Gospel Story Finder

Imagine you are a right-handed person and in a blink of an eye you were to start afresh using your left hand. How would that feel? Difficult, right? but not entirely impossible.
That is exactly how I felt when I was to switch from the physical institute class to the online institute class, especially during this period of the COVID-19 pandemic. It was funny at first, participating in the opening formalities via chats and voice notes but with time, the class seemed normal, except for being physically present. We prayed, discussed, and felt the Spirit as we all shared our thoughts and experiences.

Now I close with two experiences. As a teenage boy I watched my six-week-old sister, Carol, struggle with what seemed to me to be lethal whooping cough at a time when there were no antibiotics. I came home one night from having been a grease monkey at a Greyhound bus depot and saw the light was on. It was about four o’clock in the morning. I knew it meant trouble. As I came in, Carol was laid out on the round dining room table, and Dad was waiting for a neighbor to come to join in blessing her. I thought she was gone. It seemed to me she had quit breathing. Then I watched the power of the priesthood, and I watched her start breathing again. That experience let me know the reality of the priesthood at a very young age. Our prayers for her were answered.

Have I had some prayers that were not answered? Yes, and so have you. Sometimes the reason is that we may ask for something without enough faith, or we may in fact ask for something that isn’t expedient or that isn’t right. For us to get used to the fact that all prayers are not automatically answered is one of life’s growing experiences.

Preston Ward had a devotional with a tenor in Tabernacle Choir at Temple Square, Rick Olsen.
In the Zoom question-and-answer type devotional, he shared some of his experiences in six years of singing in the choir.
Growing up, Brother Olsen played the trombone—the only choir he participated in was the missionary training center choir and that was a spiritual experience to him which inspired his participation in the Tabernacle Choir at Temple Square.
His two daughters, who are also involved with the choir, shared their experiences as well. The three of them and Brother Olsen’s wife also played instruments and sang a few songs for the Preston members.
Brother Olsen’s wife, Sister Olsen said, “It really is a blessing to have a member of the Tabernacle Choir in our home.”
“They come home with good stories and a good feeling, a feeling that comes with performing with the choir and it spreads. Plus, we get to watch them perform in the wonderful performances the Church does.” She added.
One of Brother Olsen’s daughters, Marie, who plays the violin in the Orchestra at Temple Square, said, “The orchestra is a lot less demanding. It’s professional. We don’t attend general conferences which are always busy for the choir. We also don’t require so much practice as the choir does.”
One of the Preston members asked which of the two locations at Temple Square is nicer to sing at, The Olsens agreed the old Tabernacle building is better for its history, and acoustics are better in the Tabernacle but they all said the Conference Center is an “awe-inspiring” place to perform. “The crowd is better in the Conference Center,” “When 21,000 people sing a hymn back at you, it’s quite the experience.” Brother Olsen said.
“Choir directors say they are coming home when they are at the Tabernacle though.” Brother Olsen also added.
Another member asked how many languages the Olsens have sung. The Olsens listed Latin, Spanish, French, German, Jewish, and one said they usually have a returned missionary from the country somehow in the choir when they are learning something new, which is amazing in itself.
Brother Olsen said the most memorable experiences in his opinion are not just how close they are to the Church leadership in their performances, but the most memorable are the people, the friendships made during tours, etc., because Brother Olsen admitted, “we can’t speak too much with one another, but we can sing together.”
COVID-19 has affected the world, but from Brother Olsen’s perspective, the choir is missing one another. He told the Preston members that in the choir Facebook group, “I get the feeling there’s going to be a lot of tears when we get back together and sing again.”
He added that the last time they had sung all together normally was, “We Thank Thee O God, for a Prophet” in German. A recording was done for the April 2020 General Conference. The Olsen’s assured the Preston members that they love to serve with their musical talents and are very blessed to have music be used as a powerful sharing tool and expressed love and anticipation for when the choir can visit the United Kingdom.

Sierra Leone was a sad place during my teenage years, but it was my home. For much of my life, my small West African country was torn by a civil war. The war affected everything. My family and I were constantly on the run, trying to escape the rebel soldiers. It was terrifying every time the rebels came through a city. Someone would see their torches approaching in the night, warn the others, and we would all run for the bush, grabbing whatever we could along the way.
About seven years after the war began, the rebels came to our city. My whole family was running to escape, but my parents, who were just a few steps behind me, were shot and killed. I was so sad to lose them, but I had to keep moving.
My brother, sister, and I moved to a safer place, and for a short while we were all right, but the rebels eventually hit that town, too. This time we didn’t have time to run away. My brother was taken and later killed. My sister and I were lined up outside with all the other women. The rebel soldiers were chopping limbs off of all the women in the line. We were all so frightened. Everyone was crying and praying—even people who had never believed in God before. I was not a member of the Church at the time, but I believed in God and prayed that His will would be done and hoped that He would find a way to save me.
My dear sister, who was several places ahead of me in line, had both of her legs cut off. But as the rebels reached the woman in front of me, our army came rushing in and the rebels ran away. I know that I was not better than the people who were in front of me or behind me, but I thanked God that I had been spared and prayed that I might understand His plan for me.

One morning in April 1991, Kiril and Nevenka Kiriakov were at their home in Virginia when the telephone rang. Nevenka immediately recognized the familiar voice: “May I speak with Brother Kiriakov?” then-Elder Thomas S. Monson asked. 7
“Certainly,” she responded. Before she could hand the phone to Kiril, however, Elder Monson continued, “How would you feel if your husband were called as the first mission president in Bulgaria?” 8
Kiril and Nevenka had fled Bulgaria in 1963 with their children, Julia and Peter, and joined the Church in France before settling in the United States. Although Communist authorities had threatened Kiril with death and his family with life imprisonment if they ever returned, Kiril had been promised in a blessing that he would preach the gospel in Bulgaria. With a new government in place, they felt safe to return. Despite Kiril’s significant health concerns, he and Nevenka courageously accepted a call to serve. 9 “I was anxious to see all my relatives and friends,” Nevenka said, “and share with them the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.” 10
As Kiril and Nevenka prepared to return to their homeland, the first missionaries who would serve under their leadership were arriving at the missionary training center in Provo, Utah, USA. The language teacher who greeted them on their first day was Julia Kiriakov Caswell, Kiril and Nevenka’s daughter. 11
In July 1991, the Bulgaria Sofia Mission officially opened. Through the faith, perseverance, and efforts of the local members and the missionaries, the Church soon received official recognition. 12 By the end of 1991, more than 150 Bulgarian Saints had been baptized. 13

I remember very well sitting in a seminar on biblical studies at an eastern university many years ago. One of the things that stands out in my mind is our discussion of the canon of scripture. For at least two hours the instructor had emphasized that the word canon—referring, of course, to the biblical books that are generally included in the Judeo-Christian collection—was the “rule of faith,” the standard against which we measure what is acceptable in belief and practice. He also stated that the canon, if the word meant anything at all, was closed, fixed, set, and established. He must have stressed those words at least 10 times as he wrote them on the blackboard over and over.

I noticed in the second session on this topic that the instructor seemed a bit uneasy. I remember thinking that something must be wrong. Without warning, he stopped what he was doing, banged his fist on the table, turned to me, and said: “Mr. Millet, will you please explain to this group the Latter-day Saint concept of canon, given your people’s acceptance of the Book of Mormon and other books of scripture beyond the Bible?”

I was startled. Stunned. Certainly surprised. I paused for several seconds, looked up at the blackboard, saw the now very familiar words under the word canon,and said, somewhat shyly, “Well, I suppose you could say that the Latter-day Saints believe the canon of scripture is open, flexible, and expanding.” We then had a really fascinating discussion!

We live on a beautiful Pacific Island that does not have a temple. But members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in New Caledonia are familiar with traveling long distances to visit the house of the Lord.

My family and I saved our money during the COVID-19 pandemic and in December 2023, we were able to travel to Utah to visit our daughter and the many temples available there. After five years of not being able to do work for our ancestors, we had prepared 65 names to take to the temple during our stay.

It was a challenge to line up appointments for all the temple work we had planned for Utah. We were desperate to help our ancestors, and as our return date approached, our incredible adventure began—we secured four baptism sessions in four different temples on the same day.

We entered the baptistry at the Provo Utah Temple early in the morning, and I begged Heavenly Father to provide a miracle for the work we needed to do. I had faith that He would also want to see my ancestors baptized.

The patrons at the baptismal font were moving slower than usual that morning, but I explained our situation to a sister working in the temple, and she invited other willing patrons to help perform the work with us.

It was an incredible and emotional experience to witness all 65 ancestors baptized by proxy, one by one, after the significant effort we had made to find them! We were so grateful for this first miracle. The Spirit was strong, and we could feel the relief, gratitude and happiness from those 65 precious souls.

This sister who helped us—we call her our “Sister Miracle” now—invited us to her home, wanting to know more of our family’s story. Our two families enjoyed talking over waffles about missions, temple work, family history, and all our blessings from Heavenly Father.

As the evening ended, Sister Miracle asked for a priesthood blessing of comfort as she had just been diagnosed with aggressive cancer and was preparing for chemotherapy, surgery and radiation.

Together with her husband, I pronounced a blessing that her life would not be cut short, that she would see her children serve missions, and enjoy watching her grandchildren grow up.

Later, Sister Miracle shared with me about our visit:

“It was a tender mercy from the Lord, knowing that He was aware of me and my new trial with cancer. My faith was strengthened in Jesus Christ. I am blessed to have had this experience with my new friends from New Caledonia.”

She continued to share what she is learning:

“We all experience different trials and challenges in our lives. I am choosing to center my life on Jesus Christ and keep my covenants with Him. I have confidence that He will bless me in His perfect way. I often use the phrase ‘but if not’ in my prayers. I ask for healing and strength, but if I am not cured from cancer, I trust that He will bless me in His perfect way. I have confidence that He will provide miracles as well as little tender mercies along the way; to help me know He is aware of me.

“This message from Elder Soares explains how I feel: ‘I know that when the Lord sees even a spark of desire or a flicker of righteous effort in our willingness to center our lives on Him and on the ordinances and covenants, we make in His house, He will bless us, in His perfect way, with the miracles and tender mercies we need.’”

From the day of our first visit, we prayed for Sister Miracle. Treatments became more complicated, and her white blood cell count was often too low to continue chemotherapy at the same pace. Even with these complications, I had faith and trusted the Lord for her recovery.

Seven months later, Sister Miracle and her husband called me on my way to work. Through video chat, they explained the post-surgery results, after the cancer growth had been removed. Miraculously, the doctors found no cancer cells in that tissue. Words could not describe my joy and tears over this new miracle!

While such a miraculous response is not always the outcome in life’s challenges, Heavenly Father is aware of our needs and has provided strength through covenants with Him.

Indeed, for Sister Miracle, the sustaining help and love she felt from Heavenly Father was the real miracle in her life. As President Russell M. Nelson has said: “All those who have made a covenant with God have access to a special kind of love and mercy.”

He also said, “Every woman and every man who makes covenants with God and keeps those covenants, and who participates worthily in priesthood ordinances, has direct access to the power of God.”

I testify that, like our Sister Miracle, we can fully benefit from the infinite power and love of God through faith, covenants, service, and obedience. God is a God of miracles. He is loving and merciful. His Son is our Savior here on earth and beyond the veil. His power is infinite and available to all His children.

When our oldest daughter, Wendi, was age five, she attended kindergarten class each morning. One day I sent her to school, then readied our two younger children to go shopping. I felt rushed because I wanted to finish shopping in time to pick up Wendi from school. So with my shopping list in one hand and my two younger children in the other, I set off for the store.
About 20 minutes later a clear thought interrupted me: Darlene, go check on Wendi. I thought, How silly! Wendi is fine at school. I dismissed the thought and went about my shopping. A short time later the thought came back again. Darlene, go check on Wendi. The thought came so clearly I stopped in the middle of a grocery store aisle.
Looking at my shopping list and at my two young children, who would not be patient much longer, I reasoned to myself, This is silly! I’m sure Wendi is fine. I continued down the aisle, but the words came forcefully yet again: Darlene, go check on Wendi!
I told a clerk I would be back for my groceries and rushed from the store. As we left, I noticed a severe thunderstorm had come up. Wendi was terrified of thunderstorms, but I knew she was safe at school. Nevertheless, I began to worry that something terrible might have happened. I hurried to the school. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and even the storm was passing. I thought perhaps I wouldn’t go inside after all. But after making the effort to get there, I decided I should at least walk to the classroom and reassure myself that all was well.
I turned the corner to Wendi’s classroom and saw the door was open and Wendi was standing in the doorway. How odd! Why wasn’t she at her desk? As I approached she smiled. I didn’t know what to say, so I just hugged her.
“Mommy, I knew you’d come!” she said.
With that, her teacher came over and said, “How did you know to come?” Then she explained that the thunder and lightning had upset the class. As she tried to gather the children to sit together, she noticed Wendi at her seat praying. When Wendi finished, she told her teacher that she was all right and that she had asked Heavenly Father to send her mommy to her. She asked if she could please wait by the door.
I could not stop my tears as I realized the prayer of faith of a five-year-old had literally moved me from a grocery store several kilometers away to be at her side. I am deeply grateful to Heavenly Father for this experience, for Wendi and I both learned divine lessons about faith and trust that day.

Before Yondonjamts was baptized and confirmed, he prayed constantly that his father would join the Church too. He was very thankful when his father decided to be baptized. After his baptism and confirmation, Yondonjamts knew it was important for him to prepare to become a deacon in the Aaronic Priesthood. It was also important for his father to receive the priesthood. This young man prayed often that his father would receive the priesthood, and he did. Everyone in the family agrees that Yondonjamts is a faithful young man who knows the importance of prayer.

I was touched by the heartbreaking statement of a young missionary in Japan. He said, “I have been here for months. I can’t learn the language. I dislike the people. I am depressed by day and weep at night. I wanted to die. I wrote my mother and pleaded for an excuse to return home. I have her reply. She says: ‘We’re praying for you. There is not a day passes that all of us do not kneel together in the morning before we eat and in the evening before we retire and plead with the Lord for his blessing upon you. We have added fasting to our prayer, and when your younger brothers and sisters pray they say, “Heavenly Father, bless Johnny in Japan and help him to learn the language and do the work he was called to do.”’”
This young man then went on to say through his tears, “I will try again. I will add my prayers to theirs and my fasting to their fasting.”
Four months after hearing that he would try again, I received a letter from him in which he said, “a miracle has happened. The language has come to me as a gift from the Lord. I have learned to love the people in this beautiful land. God be thanked for the prayers of my family.”

When I was growing up, young men went on missions when they were 20 years old. Not all young men were expected to go on missions, as they are today. My father had always hoped I would go on a mission, and he had encouraged me. But as I got older, I wondered, Is that really what I want to do?
My priests quorum adviser, Dale Waite, was a great example and a wonderful teacher. One time he took us to a ward outing at a swimming resort. We had a good time swimming, playing volleyball, and just being together. That night we piled into Brother Waite’s car to go home—the car sure was full! Full of good memories of the evening’s activities, we were starting up the old highway in the dark of night, when Brother Waite asked, “Did any of you hear the First Presidency’s announcement today?”
None of us had; we were all ears. Brother Waite told us, “The First Presidency has announced that young men can be called on missions at 19 years of age.” When he said that, the Spirit of the Lord came over me, filling me from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet. I knew the message was, “You are going on a mission.” I had never had that kind of experience before, but the feeling that I was to go on a mission never left me.
When I came home from my mission, it was with the firm resolve that I would never be the same—and I never have been. And all that happened because a priests quorum adviser stayed close to the young men in his quorum, taught them the gospel, and helped them learn in a very simple way that they could go on missions and be touched by the Spirit of the Lord.

In October 2011, while serving a full-time mission in South Africa, I received a phone call from Sister Catherine Wood, our mission president’s wife. All merry and bright, she told me that President Thomas S. Monson had just announced the construction of a temple in my home town, Kinshasa. I remember shouting—with joy with tears flowing down my cheeks—in gratitude to the Most High for the blessing of having a temple in my country.
Eight years later, having married and been sealed to Rachel Tshimungu in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple in 2014, I am the father of two children. Together as a family we have witnessed the fulfillment of this great miracle—not only in our country, but also and especially in our own lives. We watched as the temple rose from ground level until, finally, the Kinshasa Democratic Republic of the Congo Temple was dedicated on Sunday, April 14, 2019 by Elder Dale G. Renlund of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.

But the experience I think about most frequently is my adoption.
When I was a baby, I lived in an orphanage in Cambodia. I got very sick with pneumonia, and the orphanage couldn’t afford my medical care.
At the same time, my future mother was visiting Cambodia from Finland for a work trip. She had a spiritual experience that guided her to visit my specific orphanage.
When we met, she felt an instant spiritual connection to me.
She took me to the hospital and paid for my medical expenses. She felt that she had been guided to Cambodia to help me get better—nothing more. But over the phone one night, her dad said to her, “Maybe this little girl is supposed to stay in your life.”
She prayed and felt her own spiritual confirmation that I was meant to be her child. So she started the adoption process. It took a long time, but eventually she returned home to Finland with me.
Whenever I’m feeling unsure if Heavenly Father is aware of me, pondering my unique origin story and the miracles involved always reminds me of this truth: He is intimately aware of and involved in my life.
My experience as a child reassures me that even among His billions of children, Heavenly Father knew me—a tiny child in an orphanage—and provided the inspiration that connected me to the gospel and to my family.

At the last general conference, I really took the time and effort to listen to the talks and try to gain something from them. While listening to President Gordon B. Hinckley, I was so touched by his spirit. I thought about the right choices he made when he was our age that helped him stay true to his beliefs. As he was giving counsel to us, I could see the love and devotion he has for us and his calling. As he was laughing and joking, I could see the joy that comes from serving the Lord.
As December and the holidays approached, I knew it was going to be difficult. My dad had passed away just four months before, leaving only my mom and me at home. At the same time, I was lucky to be at a stake conference where President Hinckley made a surprise visit. He bore his testimony and expressed his love. He said: “Do you feel gloomy? Lift your eyes. Stand on your feet. Sing songs of Christmas. Be positive.” These few words meant so much to me. I knew if I did my best at this hard time in my life, things would work out. What President Hinckley said did not take away my pain, but it helped me understand that I needed to be happy and help my mom and family be happy.
After the meeting, the congregation stood and sang “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet” (Hymns, no. 19). The strength and spirit of love in that building were incredible. After we left the church, we pulled up to a stoplight and amazingly we were right next to President Hinckley. We were so excited and waved to him. When he waved back, you could feel his love. We hadn’t touched or talked to him, but the love I felt from him was strong and unforgettable.
I would just like to tell you how important a latter-day prophet is to me. He is the voice of our Heavenly Father. We not only get answers to our prayers from the scriptures, but also from what President Hinckley teaches at general conference, devotionals, and nights like tonight. Heavenly Father loves me and wants the best for me. He has given me a prophet who helps me know what to do to return to him someday. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Let me share two personal examples that illustrate Elder Bednar’s points.

Back in 2000, when I was getting ready to graduate with my doctorate and interviewing for my first faculty position, I found what I thought was the perfect job: a good school fairly close to home, a creative joint faculty position within the school, and a very prominent company that does great work with American Indian children and families—my specialty. My meeting with the company went great. They were onboard, and I thought this appointment would lead to all kinds of research opportunities and funding. In my mind this job was made for me. I prayed, felt good about it, and was moving forward. Then, during my faculty visit to the school, things went from bad to worse. My presentation didn’t go well, the faculty members didn’t seem to like me, and there was just something that was not right. Well, I didn’t get the offer. So why is it that after praying and feeling good about this job, things didn’t work out? That was a question my wife and I were asking ourselves.

When this job didn’t work out, the other opportunity I had was to go to Washington University in St. Louis to the top social work program in the country, which obviously is a good thing. Their offer was for me to be the assistant director of the Kathryn M. Buder Center for American Indian Studies and a lecturer in the School of Social Work. Although this was a great opportunity, it was not a tenure-track position—something I definitely wanted. So we prayed again, moved forward, and took the job. What a blessing that position turned out to be! I got to spend three years working with Eddie Brown, the director of the Buder Center and former assistant secretary of the interior in charge of the Bureau of Indian Affairs—an appointment our own Larry Echo Hawk later filled. Eddie Brown is probably the most influential American Indian social worker in the country, and during those three years we were able to travel throughout the country working with Indian tribes and tribal organizations. Those three years provided me with the foundation I needed in order to be where I am today.

As a sidenote, I later found out that, shortly after 9/11, when the economy took a nosedive, the first position was canceled due to lack of funding from the company for the joint appointment. While it would have started out as a great job, it would have been short lived.

Here is the lesson I learned in recognizing and responding to the promptings of the Spirit: Sometimes what we perceive to be a positive answer followed by a negative outcome is later followed by a new, unexpected, better answer (i.e., opportunity) if we will but trust in the Lord and keep moving forward. The Lord knew what I did not. That first experience prepared me to listen more closely to the Spirit the next time, to have an increased level of gratitude for how the Lord works in our lives, and to remember “that all things work together for good [in the Lord’s time frame] to them that love God” (Romans 8:28). So, in summary, sometimes the right choices or blessings come in the Lord’s time and through promptings that are often not recognized until after they are acted upon.

I witnessed something like this on a ferry ride from Savai’i to Upolu toward the end of our mission.

It was a warm day, and the cars were packed like sardines on the bottom level of the boat. We were directed by the sailors to park within inches of the staircase, where a beautiful family was sitting. I was so close to them, that I could literally reach out and touch them with my hand. There at my arm's reach, was a little boy not more than six. He wore tattered clothes and had smudges of dirt all over his hands and face. Our eyes met, and it was an instant friendship. He was curious about me, the white lady in the fancy truck. His big brown eyes beamed at my wink, and he seemed to melt when I smiled at him.

I noticed he kept peeking back at his mother, as if to make sure it was okay for him to engage in this unspoken conversation. She seemed to approve because eventually she humbly offered me a tiny piece of dried breadfruit that she held in her hand. I was so touched that this woman, someone obviously less fortunate than myself, would offer me something to eat.

I immediately turned to the back seat and pulled out a container of breakfast that the hotel had packed for us that morning. It contained eggs, toast, koko rice, fruit, and pies. I handed it to the boy, and without hesitation, he passed it on to his mother. She took the container, placed it to her forehead, and looked up to heaven, as if to express gratitude to God. Then, I watched her do something that I will never forget. She opened it and made a sandwich out of the eggs and toast. She took one bite, just one, and then she passed it around to everyone in her family so that they would be nourished as well.

This brief encounter changed me forever. Although perfect strangers to me, I realized that this family was not strangers to Heavenly Father. His love for each of them allowed us to meet and turn something good into something even better. It taught me that lasting joy cannot be found in the world. Lasting joy is found when we make our spaces holy places. It’s found while reading scriptures, serving others, attending church, following simple commandments, and sometimes it’s even found on a crowded ferry ride eating some eggs and toast.

I grew up in a small village on the island of Anglesey in north Wales. As a teenager I faced a problem that affects most LDS young people in Britain. Almost all social life revolves around the pubs.
There is no straightforward solution to whether LDS youth should go to pubs. A pub, unlike the bars of most other countries, attracts people of all ages and all walks of life. It is a social gathering place. I remember feeling torn when close friends would invite me to parties at the local pub. I wanted them to know that I valued their friendship and appreciated them for wanting to involve me in their plans. However, the fact remained that I didn’t feel comfortable in pubs. On the few occasions that I went I always had the scriptures about shunning the appearance of evil or standing in holy places spinning around in my head. At the risk of ostracising my friends, I usually stayed at home.
This issue came to a head when my best friend, Elizabeth, turned 18 and invited me to her birthday party. It was to be held at a nearby pub. My friends were anxious that I go, although they knew that I would not join them in drinking alcohol. I decided that the only way that I could know what I should do was through prayer. It took me some time on my knees before I received a positive confirmation. I told Elizabeth that I would go for a short while and arranged with my father to take me and to pick me up half an hour later. That way I could show Elizabeth that her friendship and her birthday were important to me, but then I would not feel obliged to stay long in an environment where I felt so out of place.
Once the decision was made, the week sped by and before I knew it my father was dropping me off outside the heavy doors of “The Gazelle.” The lights glowed and reflected off the sparkling glasses along the length of the bar. A fire roared in the large grate, and scattered around the room were small round tables with their accompanying chairs. Paintings of fox hunts hung on the walls. The air was heavy with the smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol.
As I hesitated in the doorway, I heard a familiar voice. “Sian, you came!”
I turned to see my friends Nia and David. “Come on,” Nia encouraged me, “Elizabeth is over here. I know she’ll want to see you.” She led the way across the room towards a small group of people.
I was made to feel welcome. I gave my gift to Elizabeth, and I knew she realized that I was there because I cared about her. I spoke to most of the people there before finding a quiet chair in the corner where I sat with a glass of orange juice on the table in front of me. I watched those around me. It saddened me to see some of my friends already showing signs of having drunk too much. It seemed so pointless and such an artificial way to have a “good” time.
I was so consumed with my own thoughts, I was not aware of Andrew’s approach until he spoke. “Are you glad you came, Sian?” he asked as he sat beside me.
I hesitated for a second before answering.
“If by coming I have shown my friends that I value their friendship, then yes, I’m glad I came.”
“But you’re not very comfortable here, are you?”
I knew Andrew well enough to be honest with him. “No,” I said, “I guess it’s always hard to be in a situation where you are different from everyone else.”
“But it’s not so hard that you would change your stand on drinking and join us all?” There was sadness in his voice as he spoke.
I felt my heart begin to burn. “No, Andrew, deep down I know that there is a God who loves me and doesn’t want me hurt. Alcohol can hurt.”
“You’re so lucky,” Andrew sighed.
I looked at him, startled and said, “You don’t have to drink either.”
“That’s easy to say,” he replied, “but I don’t have a good excuse not to. It may be hard for you to understand.” He continued to gaze into the frothy pint of beer in his hand. “If I refuse to drink the others will give me a hard time. They’ll heckle me about being chicken or not man enough. I don’t have any excuse to give them other than the fact that I don’t feel like drinking—and that’s not good enough for them. Everyone knows that you don’t drink because you’re a Mormon. They don’t understand it, but they accept it as something you live by. Most people admire you for taking a stand. I don’t have any religious reasons not to drink, so everyone expects me to.” He shrugged his shoulders and grinned. A mask of nonchalance quickly covered the inner feelings he had briefly exposed.
“Maybe I just lack your strength of character,” he teased. Then he stood, raised his glass to me in salute and turned to walk away. Feeling hopeless, I watched him go.
I glanced at my watch and saw that my designated half hour was over. I gathered my coat, signaled my goodbye to Elizabeth who stood a few yards off. I looked for Andrew, but he was lost in the crowd, so I left quietly.
As I opened the pub door, a wave of cold, fresh air swept over me. I breathed deeply, then glanced around. Sure enough, parked not more than ten yards away was my father. I ran to the car and jumped in.
I leaned over and gave my dad a hug. He asked me how the evening had gone. I sat back in my seat and recounted my experience. A heavenly spirit filled the car as I told him what I had learned.
My conversation with Andrew had helped me to see that commandments are blessings, not obstacles. I knew that the Word of Wisdom was given for our own good, but when I went to Elizabeth’s party that night, I was struggling with the idea that it was a barrier between me and my friends. Then I talked to Andrew and discovered that there are others, perhaps many others, who wish they had such commandments to guide them.
Now I know that if I ever struggle to see the reasons for a specific commandment, I will use it as a good excuse to do what is right until my faith and understanding increase.

Sarah Henrie, a Laurel from Glenwood, Alberta, Canada, loves puppies. And she should. Breeding miniature schnauzers has proven to be a good source of income for this young entrepreneur.
“When I was ten years old, my parents got me a dog to raise as a job so that I could do reports on it for my home-study schooling. Then we had a litter of puppies, and I’ve been doing this ever since,” says Sarah.
The puppies have given her valuable experience in learning how to run a business efficiently. She also has realized the value of paying tithing on her income.
“I made a Young Women goal to learn how to clip the dogs myself,” says Sarah. “I took a course at the university, and now I can do it on my own. It saves a lot of money.”
But as Sarah’s business has taken off, she’s learned another, more important lesson about her family. Since her business has grown, Sarah has relied on the help of her younger Primary-age sisters, Kate, Leah, Jennifer, and Amy, to keep things running smoothly. She says that if it weren’t for them, she couldn’t run her business. She also says life wouldn’t be much fun without them.
“I have to be a very good example,” she says. “It’s important for me to choose the right.”

Many years ago I was called to the bedside of Robert Williams, a young man who lay dying. His wife and their two children stood nearby. We were all trying to be brave, but tears were in our eyes. Robert asked me, “Where does my spirit go when I die?” I offered a silent prayer. I noticed on his bedside table a copy of the triple combination. I reached for the book and fanned the pages.
Suddenly I discovered that I had, with no effort on my part, stopped at the 40th chapter of Alma in the Book of Mormon. I read these words to Robert: “Behold, it has been made known unto me by an angel, that the spirits of all men, as soon as they are departed from this mortal body, yea, the spirits of all men, whether they be good or evil, are taken home to that God who gave them life.
“And … the spirits of those who are righteous are received into a state of happiness, which is called paradise, a state of rest, a state of peace, where they shall rest from all their troubles and from all care, and sorrow” (Alma 40:11–12).
As I continued to read about the Resurrection, a glow came to Robert’s face, a smile graced his lips, and his tired and ill body slept. I said good-bye to his wife and children. I next saw them at Robert Williams’s funeral. In those precious corridors of memory, I think back to that night when a young man pleaded for truth and, from the Book of Mormon, heard the answer to his question.
I read the words, but God turned the pages.

In the fall when I returned to BYU I decided I wanted my dad to be there when I was baptized, so my baptismal date was arranged at a time when he would be in town to see one of our games. I’ll never forget my baptism. It was the happiest day of my life. Bob baptized me, and Coach LaVell Edwards confirmed me. And then, with tears running down his cheeks, my dad put his arm around me and said, “I’m really proud of you, son. I love you.”