Gospel Story Finder

At first glance, Dusti Bills appears to be an average, confident 19-year-old who loves animals and Chinese food. You’d never suspect that she wasn’t expected to walk. Or that she didn’t cry until she was one. Or that she didn’t talk until she was three. Or that she has a disability that leaves her in almost constant pain.
Dusti was born with cerebral palsy, but she doesn’t let that stop her from doing the things she enjoys. And one thing Dusti loves is serving others.
Service is something Dusti, a member of the Riverton Utah First Ward, strongly believes in. When her brother was on his mission in Peru, he mentioned in one of his letters that some of the newly baptized members lacked appropriate clothing to wear to church. Dusti decided to help.
For one of her Value Projects, Dusti asked her friends to donate dresses that the Peruvian Saints could wear to church. When others found out what she was doing, clothing of all kinds began pouring in to the Bills’s home. After collecting and sorting, Dusti filled several suitcases to take with her family when they traveled to Peru to pick up her brother. The bags were crammed with everything from white baptismal clothes to suits for potential missionaries.
Dusti’s help didn’t stop there. Her new wheelchair had arrived a few days before she left Utah, so Dusti was more than willing to leave her old chair at the mission home in Lima. It would go to a woman who recently had a stroke and was no longer able to walk.
“I was just glad someone who needed it got to use it,” Dusti says.
Along with finding grateful Saints who were thrilled with their new clothes, Dusti found a little bit of herself, too.
“You could tell that the members were humble and they really believed in the Church and Jesus Christ. That made me think, I do know that the Church is the right one,” says Dusti. “I believe that Jesus Christ has a plan for everybody.”
Apparently Dusti thinks a big part of her plan includes service, as it is often the basis of what she does. For another Value Project, Dusti made arrangements for her ward’s Young Women group to volunteer at an elementary school for severely disabled children. Dusti had already spent countless hours there as a volunteer, and she wanted her friends to have the experience as well. Dusti feels a special connection with the children she works with, and is sensitive and understanding of their needs.
“I know the children are smart, and they’re thinking of stuff. They just can’t tell people,” Dusti explains.
Dusti’s first thought is to serve, but when she’s not organizing clothing drives or working with disabled preschoolers, she likes playing with her dog, Puck, and her bird, Kiwi. She also has two horses, two cats, a hamster, and a goat. She enjoys acting and playing bass clarinet, and she places high priority on getting things done.
Yet in the background, the surgeries, operations, and medication are a very real part of Dusti’s life. She tries hard to maintain a positive attitude.
Dusti remembers a time when she was 13 and came to terms with her condition. “I thought, Why am I in so much pain? Why does this have to happen to me? I just thought that it was part of the plan for me, and that I am going to know why some day.”
Dusti may not know now why she has to attend therapy sessions every week, or why she can’t go to the mall without her wheelchair. But she does know God has a plan for her life, and she knows that serving others is what brings her true happiness. She lives a life full of faith, determination, and service. And that’s anything but average.

Once there was a small kingdom that was known far and wide as the Curious Kingdom. It was curious because all the people who lived there did nothing but call each other silly names.
“Camel’s Cabob!” yelled the baker to the woodcutter.
“Nimble Nit!” returned the woodcutter to the baker.
Because it took all day to think up new names that had never been used before, there was no time for the baker to bake bread or the seamstress to sew clothes or the woodcutter to cut wood. Children had no time to play, mothers didn’t churn butter, and fathers failed to plow the fields.
Instead, everyone sat around with pencil and paper, switching words here and fitting letters there. They could be heard calling names in the stores, in the streets, on the rooftops, and in the meadows. The names became more curious and the shouting more unbearable every day.
King Mossoloss tried to think of some way to stop the name-calling. First he sent out a royal edict forbidding any new names to be called, but the people were too busy yelling “Pickled Prune!” and “Gibbledy Gibber!” and “Purple Periwink!” to hear the edict.
Then the king tried locking people in the dungeon if they dared to call each other names, but it soon became so crowded there that the dungeon walls bulged on every side. After all, there was not enough room for an entire kingdom in one dungeon!
Try as he might, poor King Mossoloss could not stop his people from calling each other names, and before long the shouting became so loud that he was forced to plug his ears with cotton.
“If the baker will not bake bread,” the king said, “we will soon have nothing to eat. If the seamstress will not sew, we will soon have no clothes to wear. If the woodcutter will not cut wood, we will soon have no fires to keep us warm. This is indeed awful!”
One day a weary traveler stopped to get a cool drink of water from the well outside the Curious Kingdom. He was startled to hear all the noise from within.
“Why are the people in such an uproar?” he asked the king, who was pacing back and forth in front of the gate.
The king still had his ears plugged so he asked the stranger to speak louder.
“Why are the people in such an uproar?” the traveler asked again.
“They have been calling each other names for so long that they can’t even remember why they started. They are so busy thinking up new names that the baker does not bake bread, the seamstress does not sew clothes, and the woodcutter does not cut wood. If they do not stop, we shall all perish!”
“Even though I am just a poor weaver and a stranger, I think I know a way to make your people stop calling each other names,” the traveler said.
“If you can help me,” said the king, “I will give you all the silk thread and gold yarn in the Curious Kingdom and the finest loom on which to weave.”
“I need only a small wooden loom,” replied the weaver. “With that I can weave you the most beautiful robes your eyes have ever beheld!”
The weaver then pulled from his satchel a bottle of fine white powder. “This powder was given to me by an old woman with whom I shared my last meal,” he said. “Whoever smells the powder will sneeze and sneeze until someone says, ‘Illy, quilly, lampampilly.’ Now fetch me a sheep and we shall see what we shall see.”
A sheep was brought immediately, and the weaver sprinkled the strange powder onto its wool. Then the king and the weaver pinched their noses shut, and off they went through the streets leading the sheep behind them.
At once the people began to sneeze.
“Achoo!” said the baker, who was right in the middle of calling, “Lumpy Loon!”
“Achoo!” said the seamstress, who really meant to say “Globber Gob!”
“Achoo!” said the woodcutter, who was about to say, “Growling Grunch!”
Soon the only sound to be heard in the Curious Kingdom was “Achoo!” King Mossoloss thought it was such a pleasant change from the terrible name-calling that he sat down on the steps of his castle and smiled as he listened.
The people of the Curious Kingdom had a difficult time catching their breath between sneezes. At last they could stand it no longer, and all of them gathered together before the king.
“Good King Moss—Achoo!—oloss—Achoo!—you must know the way—Achoo!—to stop—Achoo!—this horrible curse—Achoo!”
King Mossoloss answered, “If you will all promise that there will be no more name-calling and that you will return to your work, I will help you.”
“We prom—Achoo!—ise! We give—Achoo!—our word!” they sneezed.
All eyes were on the king as he rose slowly from his royal throne. He looked at the anxious faces of his people and then said nobly in a deep voice, “Illy, quilly, lampampilly!”
Suddenly it was so quiet that everyone could hear the patter of mice feet on the court floor.
The people of the Curious Kingdom were so happy that they began to dance and sing, “Three cheers for King Mossoloss! Three cheers for our king!”
Soon the baker began to bake bread again, the seamstress commenced to sew clothes, and the woodcutter’s ax could be heard chopping away in the forest. Children played together once more, mothers churned butter, and fathers plowed the fields. It was a peaceful kingdom at last!
King Mossoloss gave the weaver the largest room in the palace and stacked it to the ceiling with silk thread and gold yarn. And the weaver happily wove for the king the most beautiful royal robes that anyone had ever beheld.

In August of 1962 President McKay visited our mission again to organize the first stake in Scotland—the Glasgow Stake. He was accompanied by other General Authorities, and it was a Pentecostal experience for all of us in attendance. I don’t remember many of the specifics that he taught, but I do remember with electricity that persists to this day one statement he made. He was reviewing the challenges and difficulties of his first mission in Scotland some 65 years before. He told of the few but faithful Saints, of the sacrifices and struggles they all experienced, and of his great affection and respect for the missionaries with whom he had served. At that time he was in his late eighties, and he mused that all of his brethren save himself were on the other side of the veil. However, he felt the presence in our meeting of three whose names he mentioned. One name he expressed was that of my grandfather. To make sure I had heard correctly, I later looked for the text of his speech, which was published shortly thereafter in the Church News. Sure enough, there was the name of Brother Mitchell.

I had only lived in Tokyo, Japan, a little while. It takes an hour for me to get home from school on the bus. One day a friend said that if we got off at the first bus stop, he knew the way to my house and would guide me home. I believed him. So I got off the bus at the first stop, thinking that he would get off, too. But he tricked me. He didn’t get off, and I was alone.
I tried to remember the way to my house. I started to walk, but I came to a fork in the road, and I didn’t know which way to go. I felt very bad and scared. I said a prayer. I told Heavenly Father that I had made a mistake, and I asked Him to help me get home. I felt better, and He helped me choose the right way to go. I got home safely and was grateful that He helped me. I learned that He really listens to our prayers and helps us solve problems.
Ian Robert Evans, age 7Tokyo, Japan

If any of us thought we were the only “cultured” thing to hit Israel, we had another think coming. In an exchange with the Kibbutz Chamber Orchestra, we heard two pieces by Mozart, played as expertly as any orchestra we have come in contact with. These musicians are unusual in that they play not for money but for the sake of playing.

We also had an exchange with the Kibbutz Choir—40 vibrant singers whose sharp, crisp consonants danced in rhythm with their fervent enthusiasm. Their swaying shoulders and fiery eyes made them just as inspiring to watch as they were to hear. Though mostly farmers and small industry workers, both the members of the choir and the orchestra are exceptional artists.

The exchange was so successful and friendships became so strong that our conductor, Dr. Ralph Woodward, was invited to return next summer to conduct workshops with the music educators and musicians throughout Israel.

But even though Janick is often a whirlpool of activity, there are times when he quietly thinks about the gospel. One day his father was giving Natalie a father’s blessing because she had a difficult test coming up at school. Janick also asked for a blessing. He was very serious about it. In the blessing he was told that he should always remember to pray. And he does. “We should pray because it is a commandment. We should ask for Heavenly Father’s protection and thank Him,” Janick explained.

I used to work at a customer service call center where it was impossible for co-workers to socialize much with each other. Our supervisor decided to organize a lunch one Saturday with the entire group to give us a chance to get acquainted. She instructed each of us to bring some object that was valuable to us and explain why it was significant.
As I thought about her request, I realized that this would be an opportunity to teach my co-workers about the gospel. Because religion is a sensitive topic, I knew I had to be careful regarding the object I took and how I explained its value to me.
When the lunch day arrived, we all enjoyed getting to know each other better. After lunch our supervisor began our activity by presenting her valued object—a family photo album. She told us of the difficulties she had gone through while separating from her husband, becoming a single mother, and starting a new life.
Following several other presentations, it was my turn. I told my co-workers that my object was something I brought with me every day: my CTR ring. I told them that the letters stood for “Choose the Right” and that the ring reminded me to always obey the commandments of God. Several people asked questions about the Church and Latter-day Saint beliefs, which gave me an opportunity to tell them about the importance of families in our Heavenly Father’s plan for His children, that families can be eternal, and that we have a Savior who gave His life for us. I also shared some experiences from my mission. As I spoke, I felt the Spirit, as did my co-workers.
After that day some asked other questions about the gospel, and I invited several of them to church. I later changed jobs and never found out if any of them became interested in knowing more, but I felt good knowing that I had told them that the true Church of Jesus Christ is upon the earth and that Heavenly Father has a plan of happiness for His children.

Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf said the following: “In family relationships love is really spelled t-i-m-e, time.”10
I tried to teach that principle in the talk I gave at the last October conference. Recently I received an email from Hailey, a member of the Church in Salem, Oregon, and mother of six, who learned this lesson on her own. Here is what she said:

After coming home last night from a couple of long days of helping at our elementary school, a flat tire, doctor’s visit, radiology appointment, and emergency room visit for one of my sick children, I was greeted with a kitchen full of dishes and life mess all over my house. I was exhausted, . . . and honestly, I just wanted to shower and climb into bed. . . .

While I was trying to tidy the kitchen, my seven-year-old approached me and asked if I would walk down to our basement to help him find a particular toy. My first thought . . . was, “I just want to get the kitchen cleaned and kids to bed without interruption.” He again asked if I would help him. . . .

I then remembered the following from your talk in conference: “When prompted, we can leave dishes in the sink or an in-box full of challenges demanding attention in order to read to a child, visit with a friend, babysit a neighbor’s children, or serve in the temple [my insert: or help your child find a toy]. . . . [We can] see people not as interruptions but as the purpose of [our] life.”

I looked at my son, who was looking up at me, and I looked at my sink full of dishes and countertops littered with clutter, and I said out loud, “Dishes, you have to wait.”
As he and I proceeded to walk down our stairs to the basement, my son, Andrew, said, “Mom, you love me more than dishes, huh?”
To which I responded an unequivocal “Yes!” . . .

Then, this morning, while helping him finish his homework for school, I said, “Andrew, I love you.”
He responded with, “Yup, you love me more than dishes.”

That became our new parenting mantra: “I love you more than dishes” (or insert any of the other thousand to-dos on our list).11

Hailey is my example in this. She knows that each day is a gift from a loving Father in Heaven.

A few years ago, when Arturo Toscanini was musical director of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra in New York City, he had a Saturday afternoon radio broadcast. And one day he received in his mail a crumpled little note on some brownish paper which read:
“Dear Mr. Toscanini, I am a lonely sheepherder in the mountains of Wyoming. I have two prized possessions: an old violin and a battery radio. And the batteries are getting weak and beginning to run down on my radio, and my violin is so out of tune I can’t play it anymore. Would you please sound an A next Saturday on your program?”
The next week on the program, Arturo Toscanini announced: “To a newfound friend in the mountains of Wyoming, the New York Philharmonic Orchestra is now, all together and in unison, going to sound a perfect A.” And they sounded the perfect A. Then that lonely little man was able to tune the A string and then the E string and the D and the G from that perfect A.
Isn’t it interesting to reflect in our own lives and in the lives of the many people who may hear me at this time—those whose violin or lives may be a little out of tune—that we are able to come to a general conference of the Church and hear the marvelous messages that are spoken? Those of us who have the opportunity to speak here pray mightily that we would have the energy and the strength and the vitality even as I do, as I enter the twilight of my life, to stand and bear witness of the truthfulness of this work—because I am a witness of it.

Temple worship is as ancient as the hills. Whenever the Lord has had a covenant people upon the earth, He has always commanded them to erect temples or holy sanctuaries akin to the tabernacle (see Exodus 25), where He can come and dwell and instruct His children in the ways of righteousness. All sincere seekers of truth who enter these sacred edifices with a broken heart and a contrite spirit have the opportunity to make and keep sacred covenants that are both salvific and binding in nature.

In Doctrine and Covenants 109:8, we read about the special purpose of temples. Each temple serves as “a house of prayer, a house of fasting, a house of faith, a house of learning, a house of glory, a house of order, a house of God,” making temples the pinnacle of our worship.

My wife and I had the privilege of visiting the Accra Ghana Temple, thanks to the Temple Patron Assistance Fund. The whole process was an exercise in patience and faith. We learned to pray earnestly and wait on the Lord for the righteous desires of our hearts. Our prayers were answered when we got word from the Africa Central Area that our application had been approved. Our flight to and from the temple was safe and uneventful.

My wife and I got sealed for time and all eternity on 29 May 2024. It was an unforgettable experience—one that I will cherish for the rest of my life. After spending the day in the temple, I wrote that evening in my journal: “I felt a great outpouring of the Spirit today during Annet and my sealing ceremony. The blessings pronounced upon us are too great to fathom, yet we are grateful that the good Lord has deemed us worthy to receive the choicest blessings that heaven and earth has to offer. Eternal life is within reach.
“I am so lucky to have my wife as my eternal companion. Couldn’t ask for a better partner. She is my fellow traveler on the path that leads back home to our Father’s presence. I have a tangible witness of God’s love and mercy, and I’m excited to see what the future holds.”

What added to our joy as the opportunity we had to perform proxy work for my paternal grandfather and my maternal grandmother. There was a special presence in the air as my wife and I were baptized and endowed on their behalf. I know they are smiling down on us. I also had the singular privilege of performing the initiatory ordinances for ancestors of two members of my ward.

Some of the progenitors of our ward members lived in the 1700s. I feel a special connection to these individuals even though I do not know them. This must be the what the spirit of Elijah feels like with hearts turning to fathers and mothers—to our ancestors. I have a firm hope that the deceased individuals we did the proxy work for have been safely gathered into the fold on the other side of the veil. The gathering is truly the greatest work we can engage in right now, and it’s happening on both sides of the veil.

I started attending a new school when I was 14. I was overwhelmed at the idea of having to start over. I wasn’t good at making friends, and I wasn’t good with change. Every day after school at my new school, I would cry on my dad’s shoulder. I was so sad and missed my old friends. All I wanted was to go back to my old school.
That was also when I began taking seminary. Seminary got me through each day. I began to realize it was because I felt the Spirit there. I started praying more often, listening in Church meetings more intently, and having a meaningful fast each month. Over the next few months, I became truly happy again.
I love the gospel of Jesus Christ. Thanks to the gospel, I found true happiness during the hardest trial of my life, and I learned about the pure love of God.

Being still is tricky for me. I always have a never-ending to-do list. While I do get a lot done, I am often stressed and overwhelmed by everything I’ve committed myself to. When I was looking for ways to become more receptive to personal revelation, I realized that I was living my life like Martha instead of Mary.1 I wasn’t giving myself time to just be still. After reading conference talks that counsel us to create a place and time to regularly listen to the Spirit, I knew I needed to do that.2 I now do my morning scripture study at a desk (instead of in bed), and I use my paper scriptures so I won’t be distracted by my phone.

Thank you, President Tanner.
President Kimball, Brethren of the General Authorities who are here with us, thank you for this privilege and for your presence. And to you sisters across the waves of sound, our greetings and our love. To all of you radiant mothers and daughters gathered here in the Tabernacle (including my own daughters and my mother who have come from their scattered homes to be in the presence of the prophet on this historic occasion), you are a wonderful delight to look upon.
I join with you all in the joy of being a woman and in the privilege of being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the fulness of times. For those of you who haven’t joined the Church yet, we welcome you when it’s right for you to come. Some of us have just come from a very special reception the Young Women hosted in our building across the way. We honored lovely Sister Camilla Kimball and Sister Tanner and other wives of the General Authorities and their daughters. We paid particular tribute to Sister Funk and her counselors who have just been released as the general presidency of the Young Women. We deeply respect and affectionately appreciate all of these sisters. We commend them to you as models for your own lives. They live close to the Lord. They follow the Prophet implicitly. They contribute to society meaningfully, and in turn they have endured difficult circumstances, which bring beauty into life. We include other women seated here before you—Sister Louise Lake, Sister Belle Spafford—among this distinguished group of women whom we all would do well to emulate.
Now tonight, clear across the world for the first time, the Church women over 12 are meeting. We are tied together by technology but sense each other’s spirit through that tender influence of the Lord Jesus Christ. We mark this moment as the beginning—at last—of a unique unification of all the Sisters of the Church, and we are focusing on proper priorities instead of personal preferences or even programs. We see it as a significant developing of all of us under the mantle of the mouthpiece of the Lord, President Spencer W. Kimball. Now, as he speaks to us tonight, it is as if the Lord Jesus Christ himself were addressing us sisters. Christ made this very clear when he said to others of his children a time ago, “Blessed are ye if ye shall give heed unto the words of these … whom I have chosen from among you to minister unto you” (3 Ne. 12:1).
“And whatsoever they shall speak … shall be the word of the Lord, shall be the voice of the Lord, and the power of God unto salvation.
“Behold, this is the promise of the Lord.” (D&C 68:4–5.)
So, President Kimball, with all of our hearts we sisters of the Church sustain you, and we shall try to heed your words.
I’m going to share an experience I had with President Kimball to help you understand what a choice human being he is, besides a powerful prophet, and perhaps base the rest of my remarks on this incident. I stood alone in the basement of the Church Office Building about two years ago, waiting for an elevator. It was very early on a Monday morning, well before the influx of office workers. As the elevator lowered into place, suddenly two Church security officers appeared from out of somewhere and held back the opening doors. Now, nobody does that for me, so I looked around just in time to see President Kimball and his personal secretary, Brother Haycock, entering the area. They moved quickly into the secured area, and I quickly moved out of the way. Well, as President Kimball turned and faced the front of the elevator, he saw me standing out there waiting for the next one. And he said to me very graciously, “Good morning.” And I said, “Good morning, President Kimball.” And he said, “Aren’t you going to get on?” And I said, “Well,” and hesitated for a few moments, “I didn’t think I was supposed to under the circumstances.” And then he said, “Aren’t you going up?” And I said, “Yes.” And he said, “Well, tell me, how do you intend to get there?” And then he said, “Come along.” So I got on! At the prophet’s invitation I was happy to ride up with him.
Tonight President Kimball extends an invitation to all of us, with some specifics, I am sure, for us as women to follow him as he follows the Savior. If we want to “go up,” we must “get on.” It is that simple. He is our leader; in all the world of would-be leaders, who can guide us back to the presence of God.
Sisters, this church is the saving remnant of the world. And what is our part as women in all of this? This girl is the future mother of the man. The woman is companion to the priesthood. She is the molder of the next generation. As women ours is the gift to love, to influence for good, to marry, and to mother—but according to the timetable of the Lord for us. (So hang in there, sisters. If it hasn’t happened yet, it may a little later than sooner. And when the time comes, if you have lived for it, have no regrets that you prayed so fervently for a good man who now is always off to a meeting or filling some celestial assignment, depending upon the timing.) You see, the details of your life and the timing really aren’t all that important. They just point up differences to us—married or single, living alone, barren or bulging with blessings. These are just details. What does matter is our personal relationship with the Lord and our own unshakable testimony that he cares enough about each one of us to be there when we really need him.
Though we are women with different cultural backgrounds clear across the span of my voice, some with differences in personal situations (we may even clash at times on opinions regarding temporal trends or how to bake a loaf of bread properly), my firm feeling is that we must pursue a course of a covenant people. We must secure those traditions which are sacred to good people everywhere. In each country as you hear this program by direct line, your course should become clear, your priorities ought to be known to you as a daughter of God. Personal opinions may vary. Eternal principles never do. When the Prophet speaks, sisters, the debate is over. So I urge us all to provide powerful unity as women for those things we can agree upon—family, chastity, accountability to the Lord, responsibility in the community, sharing the gospel.
To help us, it seems there are at least two critical areas to concentrate on—for all of us of all ages, whether we are whole or lame, at peace or troubled, privileged or seemingly deprived. The first is to strengthen self. The second is to serve the Lord by serving others. This is the way it works: We gain a personal testimony. We share it with others. We learn the principles of the gospel. We apply them as we associate with others. We keep a personal record, and we do our genealogy. And, sisters, we emphatically and happily declare, “I will be obedient! I will help strengthen others that they may be so too!”
In Christ’s day on one occasion, people were pressing heavily about him. A woman in trouble reached out to touch him in faith. His disciples scoffed that Christ should question who had touched him when so many were crowding about, and yet, he knew her touch was different. She had connected. He responded by healing her.
Sisters, our touch must be different. Rather than merely moving about Christ, wanly waiting for his blessings, we must reach out and connect—in faith. The prophet is here today to show us how. As he quietly taught me that early morning, if we want to go up, we have to get on.
If by any chance there are doubts in any hearts within the sound of my voice, or if your own testimony is at all shaky at the moment, hang on to ours while yours grows. I know that God lives, and I know that Jesus is the Christ and a necessary Redeemer, that he loves us and that his principles suffice. On this very special occasion of my maiden voyage, as it were, I am thankful to be able to personally testify that as President Kimball placed his hands upon my head with the other Brethren, President Tanner and President Romney, to set me apart as the general president of the Young Women of the Church,
I felt, through the power of the Holy Ghost, that sweet and undeniable witness of the validity of his calling as prophet. This church is true, sisters. The system—priesthood, womanhood—is a blessing to us.
As each challenge comes to us in life, and as our timetable varies a little from what we thought it was going to be, may we be wise enough to find ourselves on the Lord’s side, getting on and going up with the prophet, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

The girls decided to use this experience as a Personal Progress project. Each girl sewed her own bonnet as part of the authentic pioneer costume for the festival. They practiced for hours to memorize the story they had chosen—the story of Fanny Fry, who traveled with the George Rowley handcart company in 1859.
Fanny was separated from her family and endured hardships while crossing the plains. One day she fainted and was run over by her handcart. Thinking she was dead, the sisters began preparing her for burial. The Iowa Beehives love to tell how surprised those good sisters were when Fanny opened her eyes. Despite her injuries, Fanny pressed on and was later reunited with her sister.

I was a ballet dancer from the time I was a little girl. I took it very seriously and devoted a great amount of time and effort to it. When I reached middle school, I decided I wanted to be a professional dancer, no matter what it took to get there.
One day, my ballet teacher talked to our class about preparing for our future careers. He mentioned that only a small percentage of people who train in dance become professional dancers and that of those professionally trained dancers, only a very small number end up pursuing ballet as a career. He went on to say that whether or not dancing became our career, we should plan on being the best professionals we could be—the best doctors, teachers, bakers, or what–ever else we were to become.
At this time, my ballet classes were held on the top floor of a building that overlooked the Salt Lake Valley. While my teacher was giving this speech, my attention was drawn to the window—and then to the Salt Lake Temple.
Up to that point, my focus had been on becoming a professional dancer because I was certain that ballet would make me happy. But as I gazed at the temple, I realized that no matter what path my life or career took, being worthy to enter the temple and live in the presence of my Heavenly Father were the only things that were going to fill me with lasting joy.
This realization lifted an immense burden off my shoulders. Ballet no longer had to be my ultimate goal. It was being worthy to enter God’s presence. And unlike professional ballet, there is no limit on how many of us can make it back to live with Heavenly Father forever. Because of the Atonement, we all have that chance.

Whitney Rich says, “I have to admit that when I was growing up, I was afraid of marriage because I saw so many unhappy and failed ones. I wondered what I could do to make sure that my marriage to Justin would succeed.” Whitney and Justin spent a lot of time discussing this. They prayed, studied scriptures, and read Church-oriented books on the subject. They finally concluded that staying close to the Spirit was the best possible way of staying close to each other. Justin says, “The best marriage is not just a two-way partnership between a husband and wife. It’s a three-way partnership between a husband, a wife, and the Lord.”

Sydell sniffed the air as she skipped down the cobblestone street of Kingstown, a port town on the little West Indian island of St. Vincent. Although it was a beautiful Saturday morning, she held her nose. “Whew! It smells like rotten eggs! La Soufriere, the volcano, must be stirring up sulfur gases,” she muttered.
Sydell hurried around the corner and looked down at the blue water of the fishing bay, where sailboats rocked back and forth on the tide. It must be past lunchtime, she thought, and she wondered if her father and two brothers had returned with a catch of tuna or shark on their own small fishing boat. As she quickly turned her steps toward home, she clutched the new hair ribbon she had bought to wear to church the next day.
Mother, Father, and her two brothers, Japeth and Seraft, all went to church together in rooms above a mortuary. Father was a counselor to the branch president. Mother was the Relief Society president. Their whole family was responsible for seeing that the rooms were clean and for opening the louvered windows to let the fresh sea breeze flow into the room before meetings started. Although he was only twelve, Seraft led the singing. Japeth prepared and blessed the sacrament with the missionaries.
Sydell left the town below and climbed up the trail to her small wooden home perched on the side of the mountain. Halfway up she paused to greet the big black cow tied to a banana tree. “Good evening, Blessing,” she said, patting the cow’s silky neck. Blessing only blinked her big brown eyes and went back to munching grasses. Mother called her Blessing because there was no dairy on the island, so the family was blessed to have fresh milk and butter and cream.
Sydell sniffed the air. The aroma of roasting breadfruit filled her nose. “I know what we’re having for lunch,” she called to her mother as she ran up the steep path to the porch.
Mother was sitting on the steps, enjoying the sun while she busily chopped onions and fresh thyme to season the food she was cooking. She smiled at Sydell, who leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“Oh, Mother, I am so hungry! Is the breadfruit ready?”
“Get a stick and see,” answered Mother.
Sydell put her new hair ribbon away, then found a sturdy stick and poked it into the blackened ball baking in the coals. Carefully she carried it to her mother and set it on the ground beside the step. “It’s ready!” she exclaimed, very cautiously picking out a bit of the hot meat of the fruit that tasted like bread, then stuffing it into her mouth.
Mother stood and wiped her hands on her apron. “Here comes Papa and the boys with a fine catch of fish for supper!”
Papa always stood tall and walked fast. Sydell thought that he was the handsomest and strongest man she had ever seen. But today his shoulders drooped, and he had a worried look in his eyes. Japeth and Seraft looked very serious too. “What is it, Papa? Is something wrong?”
“No, my little one, something is very right. But we have an important matter to consider that concerns all of us, and we must ask our Heavenly Father to help us.”
Father put his bag of fish down and washed his hands at the basin on the porch. Then the family all knelt together in the little home on the cliff, and Papa talked to Heavenly Father.
“Our Father in Heaven, we are thankful for the missionaries who taught us the true gospel of Jesus Christ. My son, Japeth, now is nineteen and desires to go on a mission, but we have very little money with which to help him. We ask Thee to help us find a way for him to serve. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
It was very quiet after the prayer as each family member thought about where such a great amount of money could come from. Fishing brought only enough to keep the family fed and clothed, and there was no other way to earn it.
Sydell and Mother put their arms around Japeth and told him that they were very happy that he wanted to be a missionary. “You will be a great example to the rest of the people here on St. Vincent,” his mother said.
“I will miss you very much,” whispered Sydell as she hugged her brother.
“And I will have to milk the cow every night,” Seraft remembered. “I hear her calling now.”
“The cow! That’s the answer!” shouted Papa. “We will sell the cow. Fresh milk is such a luxury on this island that she will bring a large price.”
“Oh, must we, Papa?” cried Sydell. She thought of Blessing’s big, soft brown eyes.
“Sometimes we must give up something we love to get something better. I know that Heavenly Father will give us many blessings if we are willing to sacrifice for Him,” said Mother.
“Come,” said Father, as he gathered his family in prayer once again. “Sydell, will you say the prayer this time and ask if we should sell the cow?”
Sydell could hardly keep from crying as she told Heavenly Father that they were willing to sell Blessing, if that was what was necessary, to send Japeth on a mission. As she looked around the circle after finishing the prayer and saw the smiles of her family through her tears, a warm and wonderful feeling came into her heart, and she knew that selling Blessing would be the beginning of an even greater blessing in their lives.

One winter was particularly bad for the Young family, and in early March they found themselves without food. John sent his two older boys, Phineas and Joseph, to find work anywhere to exchange for food, corn, or whatever, and he kept Brigham and Lorenzo in the cabin with him.
John Young had tapped the maple trees on his farm and boiled down the sap and made maple sugar. As they finally came to the end of their food supply, he told Brigham he was going to exchange the sugar for food. He said, “Now you stay here, Briggy, and tomorrow morning get out and work all day clearing the brush and chopping what you can. And Lorenzo, you stack the brush. It’ll take me all night and tomorrow to get there and back, but I’ll be back the next day.”
So early that next morning, strapping on his snowshoes and leaving about 300 grams of sugar for the two small boys to eat as best they could, he put on his pack and left.
Brigham and Lorenzo worked all that day, as they had promised they would, and at about four o’clock they started for home. As they were walking along they heard a robin sing. They stopped and finally located the robin on a bush some forty or fifty meters away. Brigham said to Lorenzo, “Now you watch. I’ll run around and get the gun ad we’ll have some supper.” So he circled around to the cabin and got the gun and ran back.
The gun must have weighed nearly seven kilograms, but Brigham managed to aim it. He pulled the trigger and shot it. They ran over and got the bird, skinned it and cleaned it, went to the cabin, and put the bird in a kettle on the fireplace with a little water and began to cook it. They tipped the flour barrel and beat on the bottom, catching what they could in the pan, and managed to get half a cup of flour. They thickened the stew with that and had bird stew and sugar for supper. The next night, John returned home bringing some corn meal and pork, and they were able to survive.

Years later, during the summer of 1968, missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints visited the home of a family member. She declined the elders’ invitation to learn about the Church but sent them to my home.
At our first meeting the missionaries taught me that “a falling away” had occurred from the Church that Jesus Christ had established (see 2 Thessalonians 2:3). What they taught coincided with my personal study, so when they asked if they could visit me again, I agreed.
During their next visit, I had a list of questions. Did Latter-day Saints baptize by immersion? Did they believe in priesthood authority? Did they believe in the healing of the sick? Their answers supported what I had studied in the New Testament. At the end of the visit, they left me with a book they said testified of Jesus Christ.
I set the book on top of the TV and went to bed. But in the middle of the night, I was awakened by a strong feeling I later recognized as the Holy Ghost. I felt prompted to start reading, so I read for an hour and a half before returning to bed. A short time later, I reawakened with the same feeling, so I read some more.
This pattern continued for the next two nights. I loved what I was reading and recognized that the Book of Mormon testified of Jesus Christ.
I decided to ask God for direction. For the first time since I was a little girl, I knelt to pray. I asked Heavenly Father to help me know what to do with the fire I felt inside of me. When I finished my prayer, I felt prompted to revisit the account of the Lamanites’ conversion in 3 Nephi 9. I read that they “were baptized with fire and with the Holy Ghost, and they knew it not” (verse 20).
The phrase “they knew it not” spoke to me. The thought came to me: “The Church of Jesus Christ really is on the earth!” I was eager to talk to the missionaries about what I had read and what I now knew. But when they responded to my questions with an invitation to be baptized, I told them I couldn’t. My husband wouldn’t understand.
As I continued to think about that verse, however, I realized that it contained clear direction for me to offer the sacrifice of “a broken heart and a contrite spirit.” I prayed and asked my Father in Heaven to help me, which He did. After my husband took the missionary discussions, he gave his consent for me to be baptized.
How grateful I am to a loving Heavenly Father for that precious and powerful experience I had as a young mother in reading the Book of Mormon. It led me to the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. As a result, the influence of the Holy Ghost I felt those nights in 1968 is now a constant gift—something that has guided me during my more than 40 years as a member of the Church.

It takes forever to clean the slate when you get behind in your nut cracking. Once our family was planning a vacation. Dad decided that we weren’t going until everyone had his nuts cracked. Those who didn’t have nuts to crack were encouraged to help the others. We started out being grumpy, but by the end, we were all working together and actually enjoying it! Spending that time together, just talking while we were at our nut cracking, made us closer.