Gospel Story Finder

Matthew got in the van with his family and put on his seatbelt. Today they were going to the parade!
Matthew loved parades. He was excited to see the bands marching along with their big drums and their shiny hats. Every year he tried to guess which float would win as they all rolled by, and he laughed at the clowns on their tiny bikes. He couldn’t wait to see the horses and hear the fire trucks blow their horns.
Dad parked the car, and they walked to where Grandpa and Grandma were waiting.
“Hey, buddy,” Grandpa said as he ruffled Matthew’s hair. “Ready to get some candy?”
Matthew nodded. He checked his pocket to make sure he had his plastic bag. He loved waiting on the curb and getting the candy and other things people handed out. Last year he got a whole bag full of candy and toys. He knew that Grandpa liked the candy as much as he did. He always looked through his bag afterwards to find something Grandpa liked.
“I hope I get lots of candy!” Matthew’s sister Abby yelled as she jumped up and down. “Look! It’s starting!”
Matthew quickly picked a spot on the curb. He felt his heart thud as a band began to play. Suddenly the air was filled with bubbles as a float covered with tropical fish passed by. The people walking behind it were handing out lollipops. Matthew and Abby both got one.
The next group handed out tickets to the bowling alley. Then the clowns came. Some were on stilts, one rode a unicycle, and some rode the tiny bikes Matthew liked.
The next group was dancing and handing out bright green water bottles. A water bottle like that would be perfect for soccer! Matthew and Abby both grabbed one. Then Matthew saw a little boy nearby crying because he hadn’t gotten one. Matthew looked at his bag filled with candy and toys. He looked again at the boy and then took out his water bottle and walked over to him.
“Here you go,” Matthew said, holding it out to the boy. The boy grabbed it, smiled, and wiped his eyes. The boy’s mom smiled and said thank you.
As Matthew went back to sit on the curb, he saw Grandpa wink at him. He felt good that he had shared the water bottle with the little boy, even though he could have used it for soccer. Matthew thought that sharing with the boy was what Jesus would have wanted him to do.
After the parade Grandpa asked Matthew what he liked most. Matthew thought about all the fun things in the parade. Then he thought about the boy and the water bottle. He knew he had done something even better than watching a parade and getting candy.

Recently, I spoke with a Laurel from the United States. I quote from her email:
“This past year some of my friends on Facebook began posting their position on marriage. Many favored same-sex marriage, and several LDS youth indicated they ‘liked’ the postings. I made no comment.
“I decided to declare my belief in traditional marriage in a thoughtful way.
“With my profile picture, I added the caption ‘I believe in marriage between a man and a woman.’ Almost instantly I started receiving messages. ‘You are selfish.’ ‘You are judgmental.’ One compared me to a slave owner. And I received this post from a great friend who is a strong member of the Church: ‘You need to catch up with the times. Things are changing and so should you.’
“I did not fight back,” she said, “but I did not take my statement down.”
She concludes: “Sometimes, as President Monson said, ‘You have to stand alone.’ Hopefully as youth, we will stand together in being true to God and to the teachings of His living prophets.”

“I want a cookie,” Emily said as Mom took cookies from the oven.
“Wait until they cool,” said Mom.
But Emily didn’t wait. She ate a hot cookie and burned her tongue.
“I want to play with it now,” she said while Dad glued a wheel back on her toy truck.
“Wait until the glue dries,” Dad said.
But Emily didn’t wait. She raced the truck across the rug, and the wheel came off again.
“I want to open my presents,” she said as Mom put bows on brightly wrapped boxes.
“Wait until your birthday tomorrow,” Mom said.
But Emily didn’t wait. As soon as Mom left the room, she opened her presents. Then she had no boxes to open on her birthday.
“Why didn’t you wait?” Dad asked.
“I hate to wait,” Emily said. “But now I wish I had.”
The next day, Dad took her to a garden shop. He picked out onion sets and seeds for peas and beans. “You may choose some seeds, too,” he told Emily.
“I love carrots,” she said, so Dad got a package of carrot seeds.
Emily helped Dad plant the onions, peas, and beans in the garden. Then she planted a row of carrots by herself. “We can have my carrots for dinner tomorrow,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” Dad said, “But you will have to wait a long time for your seeds to grow into carrots.”
Emily didn’t wait. Every day, she dug up a few seeds to see If they had grown into carrots. “My seeds aren’t growing,” she told Dad.
“How do you know?” asked Dad.
“I looked at them,” said Emily.
“If you dig up your seeds, they won’t ever grow. You’ll have to learn to wait.”
“I hate to wait,” Emily said. “But I love carrots, so I’ll try.”
Emily tried hard all summer. She didn’t dig up any more carrot seeds, even when the green tops popped up along the row. But she did weed the garden while she waited. And she swam and ran and played. She even learned to wait for other things—for ice cubes to freeze in the freezer, for her turn to ride on the back of a camel at the zoo, and for lots of other things. She even learned to wait to talk to Mom or Dad when they were busy.
While Emily waited, the plants grew in the garden. When it was time, she helped to pick pea pods and yellow beans, and tall green onions. At last it was time for the carrots.
Dad showed her how to loosen the dirt around the carrots and then how to hold the green tops and pull out the carrots one by one. Emily filled her basket with long, fat carrots. Then she ran to the house to show Mom. “Look how big they grew!”
“Yes, they did,” Mom said, “and so did you!”
“Did I get taller?” Emily asked.
“You grew taller and wiser.”
“Wiser?” Emily asked.
“Waiting made you wiser.”
“Waiting made me want to eat carrots,” Emily said, “so I’m going to eat one right now!”
“Wait until I wash one,” Mom said.
But Emily didn’t wait. She took a big carrot and washed it herself. “Now I will eat the best carrot I have ever eaten,” she said. And she did.

When I was in high school, I had the same thoughts as you do. I did poorly and was close to failing. I dropped out in my junior year. I thought I was miserable in school, but it was worse in the working world. Employers are biased against those who don’t hold a high school diploma. Most better-paying jobs require a college degree. If you hate high school now, how will you adjust to college? It’s no fun to work low-paying jobs and not be eligible for better employment. The best thing you can do is to stick it out. It’s a small investment of your time. Pray to our Heavenly Father for the strength and patience to finish high school. If you pray with a sincere heart he will help you.
I am currently in prison. I wish I had the words to tell the hardships I have encountered by dropping out of high school. Not all dropouts end up here, of course, but I’d say at least 80 percent of the population here are dropouts.
Name withheld

We can all recall times when we have pushed on and prayed again—and blessings resulted. The experiences of Michael and Marian Holmes illustrate these principles. Michael and I served together as Area Seventies. I was always thrilled whenever he was called on to pray in our meetings because his deep spirituality was readily apparent; he knew how to speak with God. I loved to hear him pray. Early in their marriage, though, Michael and Marian were not praying or attending church. They were busy with three little children and a successful construction company. Michael did not feel that he was a religious man. One evening, their bishop came to their home and encouraged them to begin praying.

After the bishop left, Michael and Marian decided that they would try to pray. Before going to bed, they knelt at their bedside and, uncomfortably, Michael began. After a few awkward words of prayer, Michael abruptly stopped, saying, “Marian, I can’t do this.” As he stood and began walking away, Marian grabbed him by the hand, dragged him back to his knees, and said, “Mike, you can do this. Try again!” With this encouragement, Michael finished a short prayer.

The Holmeses began to pray regularly. They accepted a neighbor’s invitation to attend church. As they walked into the chapel and heard the opening hymn, the Spirit whispered to them, “This is true.” Later, unseen and unasked, Michael helped haul some trash from the meetinghouse. As he did, he felt a distinct impression, “This is My house.”

Michael and Marian accepted Church callings and served in their ward and stake. They were sealed to each other, and their 3 children were sealed to them. More children followed, bringing the total to 12. The Holmeses served as mission president and companion—twice.

The first clunky prayer was a small but faith-filled action that triggered the blessings of heaven. The Holmeses fed the flames of faith by attending church and serving. Their dedicated discipleship over the years has led to a raging inferno that inspires to this day.

It’s so isolated that some of the locals call it “Planet Barrow.” But for now, the Gaylin Fuller family calls Barrow home. According to them, this may be the end of a continent, but it is not the end of the world. It’s the top of the world.
Like many others in the 1980s, they were forced off their Idaho farm by high operating costs. Gaylin needed work. He had been a university librarian before but had to reestablish his credentials. And the best opportunities at the time happened to be in Alaska.
So here they are in a town of about 3,000 inhabitants huddled on the far northwest coast. From the air, the surrounding land looks flat and soggy, as though it had just barely crawled from the Arctic Ocean and could sink back at any moment. The Alaska of travel posters, with its rugged mountains, immense forests, and misty fjords, is many miles to the south and might as well be on another planet.
Frankly, the kids really weren’t sure what to expect. When they moved Ronald, who is now 14, says, “I didn’t know if we’d be living in an igloo or what.”
Their snug home in Barrow is certainly no igloo, though it’s probably a good thing that the five older Fuller boys are either married, away at school, or serving missions. It’s hard to imagine fitting that many more people in this house. The six Fuller children living at home—Lyle (18), Clark (16), Ron (14), Linnae (12), Stanley (10), and Owen (7)—fill the house quite nicely.
The Fullers’ first home in Alaska was located in tiny Akiachuk, a village some 400 miles west of Anchorage—a place with fewer than 500 people and accessible only by air or snowmobile.
The isolation was tough. In Idaho, the Fullers had been able to get in the car and go to town to attend church, shop, visit friends, go to a movie—whatever. But in Akiachuk, church was at home, shopping was by mail, and movies were on TV. And friends? Well …
If the geographic isolation was tough, the social isolation was even worse. As outsiders, the Fuller children had to prove themselves. In the meantime, family was more important than ever. “We really had to be each other’s friends,” Brother Fuller recalls.
Fortunately, the Fuller boys are good athletes—and relatively tall. At least the Fullers were able to fit in on the court. A major sign that the ice had been broken (pardon the pun) came when Mark Fuller (now serving a mission in Italy) was invited to travel with a village team to play basketball in another village.
They traveled on snowmobiles in the dark, 20 to 30 miles across open countryside, in temperatures of 20 to 30 degrees below zero. Then they played hot, fierce basketball until 11:00 P.M., and returned home the same way they came.
By the time their two years in Akiachuk were up, the Fullers could say they had friends there. But then the opportunity came to move 700 miles north to Barrow.
Barrow is the big city compared to Akiachuk, with a large, modern high school and jet service by two airlines. But winter temperatures can dip to 40–60 below zero. In a place like this, learning to survive in the physical environment is critical, and the Fullers have learned those lessons well.
But they’ve also learned equally important lessons of spiritual survival and the blessings of family. For example, when they lived in Akiachuk, the stake presidency authorized the Fullers to conduct meetings in their own home.
At first that may sound great. But think about holding sacrament meeting in the same living room that contains your TV and VCR and video games, in the same home where you sometimes argue and quarrel. The spirit of your meetings would all be up to you.
Besides, who would give the talks in sacrament meeting? Who would teach Sunday School, Primary, and priesthood meeting? That’s right, your family.
How did the Fullers handle it? For one thing, they made it a point to dress in their Sunday clothes for their meetings, even if it was just at home. And they accepted their responsibility to teach each other. Lyle has taught both Stanley and Linnae in Primary. “I enjoyed it, and so did they,” he reports. Clark’s experience was similar. “I thought it was kind of fun teaching Owen and Stanley. And when Mark taught me, I thought that was great.”
Now that they are in Barrow, they have a small branch of the Church that meets in the local youth center. Each Sunday they clear away the pool tables and other recreation equipment before they can set up a few chairs, a sacrament table, and a portable podium. And while there are perhaps a half dozen other members who help, it is still often Fullers teaching Fullers.
How important is example in this family? Seated at the control panel of the small radio station where he works as a part-time deejay, Lyle talks about life in a big family with lots of boys: “I grew up with five older brothers. Their example has made it easy to make the right choices. Also, it’s put pressure on me to live up to the things they’ve accomplished.”
Now Lyle is the oldest at home. It’s an unspoken duty that he feels deeply: “I was kind of scared when my brother just older than me was ready to leave home, because I knew being the oldest brother was kind of a big responsibility.”
Every night at bedtime, Clark, the next oldest at home, challenges Lyle to a rough-and-tumble wrestling match. Then it’s Dad who has to break things up. Third-in-line Ron isn’t quite ready to take on Clark yet because, “He’s still a head taller and 30 pounds heavier.” But then he glances sideways at Clark in the next room. He can’t help raising his voice, throwing out a teasing challenge: “But I could still take him. You hear that, Clark?”
The teasing and banter continue until it’s time for daily scripture reading and evening prayer. Together, the family has read all of the standard works aloud, seriously, taking time to discuss the meaning of what they are reading. There’s a peaceful spirit here in this cozy home.
Outside, it’s dark and overcast, with snow flurries. The calendar says it’s still early September, but this far north the first snowfall took place weeks ago. The days are growing noticeably shorter: from Thanksgiving through the end of January the sun won’t even appear above the horizon.
Those long weeks of darkness can cause people to become depressed and sluggish. Doctors have discovered that it can be avoided if people are exposed to the right kind of bright light for a period of time each day. As Ron Fuller puts it, “I just spend some time soaking up light every day.”
You can’t escape the analogy. Here is a family that has learned to turn to the Light, no matter where they are. Sometimes the world inappropriately uses the word godforsaken to describe places like this. But the Fullers feel anything but forsaken. And that’s what really puts them on top of the world.

Years later I received a similar call late at night in a hotel in Japan. I was then the new commissioner of education for the Church. I knew that President Gordon B. Hinckley was staying somewhere in that same hotel on his separate assignment to Japan. I answered the ringing phone just after I had lain down on the bed to sleep, exhausted by having done all I thought I had the strength to do.

President Hinckley asked in his pleasant voice, “Why are you sleeping when I am here reading a manuscript that we have been asked to review?” So I got up and went to work, even though I knew that President Hinckley could give a better review of a manuscript than I could possibly do. But somehow he made me feel that he needed my help.

Eliza was hungry. Her stomach churned and rumbled so loudly she was certain everyone at the table could hear it. But no one paid any attention. They were all too busy pushing the small portion of greens around on their plates, and waiting for their mother to sit down so they could say the blessing.
It had been a long winter, and the growing season in their small farming town had been too short, leaving little money for food and supplies. Now the Forsyth family was going hungry. For the past three weeks, all they’d had to eat was pigweed. Eliza didn’t want to complain, but pigweed was yucky and she didn’t want to eat it anymore.
“Do we have to eat this again?” she asked, poking at the stringy greens with her fork.
“Count your blessings, Eliza,” Father said in a quiet voice. “Be thankful that you have something warm to fill your stomach. It’s more than a lot of people have right now.”
Eliza hoped she hadn’t made her father feel bad. He worked so hard to take care of their family. It wasn’t his fault that they were having hard times.
“Soup’s on,” Mother said, carrying a large pot to the table. “Move your elbows and pass your bowls.”
Eliza’s stomach grumbled in anticipation. Her mother made the best soup in town, and she couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into a sweet carrot or meaty potato.
But as she watched her mother fill the bowls with hot, steaming liquid, Eliza’s heart sank. There were no carrots in sight. No potatoes. No beans. No meat of any kind. Just rocks. There were rocks in her soup!
At the sight of the stones in the bottom of her bowl, her eyes filled with tears and she groaned. “I’m hungry, Mother. Don’t we have anything else to eat?”
“Yuck,” said Eliza’s sister Agnes as she plucked a large brown chunk from her bowl. “What’s this?”
“That’s part of Uncle George’s saddle,” Mother said, looking around the table at the faces of her unbelieving family. “He doesn’t need it anymore, so I cut it up and boiled it to give the soup some flavor. Just set it aside. It’s not for eating.”
“What are the rocks for?” asked Neal, scrunching up his face as he pushed the rocks around with his spoon.
Mother smiled. “Those are just for fun. Now please fold your arms. Eliza, will you bless the food?”
Eliza didn’t want to. She wasn’t grateful for weeds and rocks and boiled saddles.
“Don’t forget to thank Heavenly Father for keeping us safe, and for giving us so many blessings,” Mother said.
Eliza looked into her bowl of rock soup, then around her at the bowed heads of her family. Despite the long, cold winter they had endured, all of them were safe and healthy. They had a house to live in, clothes to wear, and plenty of firewood to keep them warm. And in spite of their suffering, they were kind to their neighbors and each other. Mother was right. They really did have much to be thankful for.
“Thank Thee, Heavenly Father, for the food our mother has prepared,” Eliza prayed.
She thanked Him for the pigweed that grew plentifully on the farm.
She thanked Him for the rocks that covered the west pasture, because without them, they wouldn’t be having rock soup.
And she thanked Him for her family and the love they shared.
When Eliza finished her prayer, she had a warm feeling and knew that Heavenly Father loved her.
When dinner was over, the aching emptiness of her stomach was filled with the best soup Eliza had eaten in a long time.

Finally, attending the temple will tether us to the Savior like nothing else can. It became a favorite thing of mine when we lived in Utah. But it wasn’t always that way. I didn’t take advantage of the temple the first several years we lived there. I always had excuses and reasons not to go. But there came a time in my life that I really needed to escape the world and discover some truths for myself. Initially, it was a hard transition. I didn’t immediately love going, and I didn’t feel peace and comfort there. I found that I was just anxious and agitated. I loved what President Nelson said about temple attendance. “If you don’t yet love to attend the temple, go more often—not less. Let the Lord, through His Spirit, teach and inspire you there. I promise you that over time, the temple will become a place of safety, solace, and revelation.” [5] I can honestly testify this is exactly what happened to me. Over time, I came to cherish this time, and it became a strong spiritual harbor for me. You have a temple right here, and I encourage you to go often and learn to love it the way I have.

In May of 2023, John received an unexpected visit from Elder Paul Whippy of the Pacific Area Seventy of the Church. Elder Whippy was so impressed with John’s example of Christian love and service that he shared the experience with Elder Taniela B. Wakolo, his priesthood leader in the Area Presidency.
When John was informed that Elder Wakolo also wanted to meet him, he organised for caregivers to ensure he was up and carefully dressed in his church attire, ready for the visit. In both these visits, John shared his testimony with the elders and some of the lessons he has learned over many years of faithful church service.

When I went to youth conference one year, I had no idea of the impact it would have on me. We had three days packed full of fun activities, and I was excited to see old friends, meet new ones, and get involved. But my favorite part was the testimony meeting. The Spirit was strong as we bore our testimonies of the gospel, and many of us were moved to tears. For me this beautiful feeling lasted for days after the conference, and I wanted it to stay. I didn’t even watch TV or listen to non-Church music. This experience truly strengthened my testimony of the Church.
The Spirit is the only way for us to know the Church is true. We must do things to allow the Holy Ghost to be with us, like studying the scriptures, praying sincerely every day, and thinking of times when we have felt the Spirit. When we live with the Spirit, we can feel His warmth and know the Church is true. I love the gospel; it has answers and direction. I wish that everyone in the world could know what we know.
Tahnee H., age 20, South Australia

Our experience in Rome actually began back in January when as companions, Elder David A. Bednar and I, with our wives, were assigned to go to Rome for a press conference, media open house, and tours with dignitaries. This is the first day of the press conference. In the yellow chairs are Elder Massimo De Feo, our Italian General Authority; Elder Bednar; and me. Many members of the press came from not only Italy, but throughout Europe and around the world.

One of the reporters asked, “Can you tell us what this temple in Rome means to the members of your Church in Italy?” Elder Bednar and I turned to Elder De Feo, our General Authority from Italy, to answer that question. With tears flowing down his face, Elder De Feo said, “Just 25 years ago my family and I were meeting in a garage, here in Rome, for our Sunday Church meetings. So can you imagine, ladies and gentlemen, brothers and sisters, what it means for us to have this beautiful temple and visitors’ center built here?”

Thankfully, as you all know, temples are built by the faithful tithes of the members of the Church. As you are faithful tithe payers, you contribute to temples, like this one in Rome, being built all over the world.

I sometimes respond by citing a story that is told about the Church when a federal army was sent out here to harass the Saints. The Brethren had decided on a policy of irritation without violence. In keeping with that policy Porter Rockwell and Lot Smith were dispatched to a distant army camp where Lot Smith was to secretly and quietly remove the pins from the army’s wagon wheels while Porter Rockwell was to drive off all the army’s horses. In the dark of night, Lot was busily taking out wagon wheel pins, and Porter war-whooped into the camp and drove off all the horses, including Lot Smith’s. Lot later walked wearily many miles back to Church headquarters and reportedly said, “Brethren, we’ve just got to get correlated.” Today’s correlation challenges are different, but the basic need remains.

When I was about 14 or 15, I had a hard time believing the Church was true, even though I’d been a member all my life. Although my firm testimony of the Church didn’t come until later, here is how I decided that the Church was good and that I should keep going.
One day I prayed about whether or not the Church was true. I was expecting some great experience like hearing a voice or feeling a physical sensation in my body or something similar to assure me it was. Nothing came. I struggled greatly with this.
Then one Sunday, I was at church and started thinking about all of the great people I knew in the Church. I thought about how I felt when I was at church—a peaceful feeling, like I was at ease. I felt the Spirit during this meeting when I was thinking about these things.
This is when my first little bit of testimony started, and I knew that the Church was a good thing and that I should keep going. As I continued going to church, I started forming an even stronger testimony, little by little.

“Triple, tap, step. Triple, tap, step.” Tanya could hear Mrs. Nimitz’s dance students in the adjoining room clicking their tap shoes in time to her instructions.
For as long as Tanya could remember, she had wanted to take tap dancing lessons, but her parents had never been able to afford them. Now she had a chance to earn them for herself.
Today while Mrs. Nimitz was teaching her advanced class, Tanya was baby-sitting for her. If everything went well, she would have the job of tending two-year-old Cathy from three until five on Monday and Wednesday afternoons.
Mr. Nimitz came home early on Fridays, so he watched his little daughter during his wife’s class for beginners. And Tanya intended to ask Mrs. Nimitz if instead of paying her, she would allow her to be a member of that Friday afternoon class.
Nine-year-old Tanya had never baby-sat before, but she was sure that she could do the job.
Cathy was napping, so Tanya relaxed and decided to fix herself a snack. Mrs. Nimitz had said that it would be OK.
Tanya carefully lifted the lid of the cookie jar and smelled the sweet aroma of butter and cinnamon. As she reached in for a cookie, she thought how good it would taste with a cup of hot chocolate.
I bet I could make some, she decided. I’m sure Mrs. Nimitz wouldn’t mind, as long as I clean up after myself.
She measured a cup of milk into a saucepan and placed it on the stove. She had just turned the burner on, when slam!
That sounds like the bathroom medicine cabinet! Tanya thought as she dashed down the hallway. “Cathy?” she called. “Is that you?”
She found Cathy standing on the clothes hamper by the sink, peering intently into the medicine cabinet mirror.
When Cathy saw Tanya’s reflection in the mirror, she said, “I like lipstick!” Turning to face Tanya, she added, “See! I pretty!”
Tanya couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t heard a sound until the cabinet door slammed, but there stood Cathy, her face painted bright red from cheek to cheek. Her hands were streaked with lipstick, and the bathroom sink was ringed with red fingerprints.
If Mrs. Nimitz sees this, Tanya thought, I’ll never get my lessons. Oh, how can things go so wrong so quickly!
“Cathy! Look at you! You’re a mess!” Tanya scolded.
“Mess?” Cathy giggled as she held two chubby hands out to have Tanya help her down off the hamper.
Tanya smiled in spite of herself. “Come on, let’s clean you up before your mother sees you.”
She had the lipstick off Cathy’s face and was starting to scrub her hands when she heard a splashing, sizzling sound. “The milk!” Tanya cried, dropping the washcloth and racing into the kitchen.
The pungent odor of scorched milk stung her nostrils. She grabbed a pot holder and was taking the smoking pan from the burner when the kitchen door opened and Mrs. Nimitz peeked in.
“I thought I smelled something burning,” she said.
Tanya wished that she could sink out of sight. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Nimitz. I was heating some milk for hot chocolate when Cathy woke up. I went to get her and forgot about the milk. I’ll clean it up.”
“Mama!” Cathy cried out as she toddled into the kitchen. “See! I mess!” Then she held her lipstick-red hands out to her mother. Mrs. Nimitz walked past Cathy and into the bathroom.
Tanya choked back the tears. “I’m sorry, I …” But Mrs. Nimitz didn’t seem to hear Tanya.
“Never mind. I’ll have to clean it up later,” she said, greatly irritated.
As quickly as she had appeared, Mrs. Nimitz disappeared, shutting the door hard behind her.
Tears of disappointment spilled down Tanya’s cheeks. She slumped into the nearest kitchen chair and began to sob as if her heart would break.
“Don’t cry.” Tanya felt a tiny hand patting her arm.
She pulled the little girl to her and gave her an affectionate hug.
“It’s OK,” she said through her tears. “I guess I just expected everything to go perfectly.” Then, trying to be cheerful, she added, “Come on, Cathy, let’s see what we can do to straighten things up around here. I may not get any dance lessons, but at least I won’t feel like running and hiding every time I see your mother coming.”
Tanya gently scrubbed the lipstick from Cathy’s hands and arms. Then she put a heavy plastic bib on the little girl and let her help scour the bathroom sink.
In the kitchen, Tanya assigned Cathy to rinse out the cleanup cloths. Cathy was so enthusiastic that Tanya had to mop up the spills. But as the mop was returned to the closet, Cathy clapped her hands and proclaimed, “All clean!” Everything was too. Not a hint of lipstick or scorched milk could be seen.
An hour later the kitchen door opened. Tanya braced herself.
Mrs. Nimitz glanced at the kitchen range. “I’ll get my purse and pay you for today,” she said as she started down the hall.
Mrs. Nimitz paused just a moment outside the bathroom doorway before going on to her bedroom. As she came back down the hall, Tanya watched intently. But Mrs. Nimitz’s expression told her nothing.
“Tanya,” Mrs. Nimitz began in a serious tone. “I can’t believe what a responsible little girl you are. If I hadn’t peeked in earlier, I wouldn’t have ever guessed that you had had any trouble today. You did a fine job of cleaning up. And Cathy hasn’t even been at the door once crying for me.” She smiled at Tanya. “Yes, I think that you’re just the girl for this job. Would you like me to pay you each time you come or by the week?”
“Pay me? No. I mean … I’d like to … Oh, Mrs. Nimitz, could I take dance lessons instead of being paid?”
“Dance lessons? Why, yes. A lesson for one day’s work would be a good trade. But I’ll pay you for the other day. All right?”
“That’s great!” Tanya exclaimed, hardly able to keep herself from jumping up and down.
As she skipped home, she thought, I guess dreams really can come true. You just have to work at them a little.

One more example. This one really happened.
I remember sitting in my elders quorum meeting several years ago, enjoying a lesson based on “The Family: A Proclamation to the World.” At one point in the lesson a member of the quorum read part of the proclamation. The instructor was about to move forward with the lesson when another quorum member raised his hand. “I have a question,” he said. Quoting a phrase that had just been read, he asked, “How can we teach our children ‘to love and serve one another’?” The expression on his face and the sound of his voice revealed that this was more than just a question—it was a plea for help. I was grateful that he asked because he expressed a plea that was in my heart as well.
This heartfelt question changed the pace of the lesson. Our teacher put his lesson plan aside temporarily. Quorum members paused to think, and some shared ideas and experiences in response to their friend’s question. Then the teacher shared an insight of his own and continued with the lesson, focusing on other truths in the proclamation. The discussion lasted only a few minutes, but it continues to influence my family and me.
Doctrine and Covenants 18:34–36 and 88:122 came together in that quorum meeting. The process began with a teacher who was humble and wise enough to invite us to read the words of the prophets. It continued when a quorum member had the courage to ask a question—to ask for help. Then, as different men with different backgrounds spoke one at a time, “all [were] edified of all.” I testify that by the power of the Holy Ghost, I heard the Lord’s voice that day—first through His prophets and second through my neighbors and friends. And I went home knowing the word of the Lord better than I had the day before.

The story is similar with Shannon M., 16, who has earned her Young Womanhood Recognition, and Lucy W., 14. Lucy was halfway through her Personal Progress as a Beehive. She stumbled across the third value experience for Faith and hit a wall.
“I was supposed to look in the Bible Dictionary or True to the Faith,” says Lucy. “I didn’t know where to start. I didn’t know exactly what to look for or how I could use it toward my experience.”
Shannon mentored Lucy, and the two went through the reading materials and set goals. Lucy was able to complete the value experience and carry out a family home evening, completing her goal. This experience strengthened Lucy’s testimony and helped her stick with Personal Progress.
“When you finish something and you have to pray about it and write about it in your journal, it strengthens your relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.”
Shannon says that working on Personal Progress helped confirm the testimony she knew she had. “I was born into the Church, and I never really had that experience where I thought, ‘I know this Church is true’—until Personal Progress,” says Shannon. “It has backed my testimony up. That was the turning point.”

On the afternoon of 30 May 1996, I went with my family and two friends to the Araneta Coliseum in Manila to hear President Gordon B. Hinckley speak. He was visiting the Philippines, and we were excited to see him.
We arrived at the coliseum at 4:30 P.M. My friends, Princess and Paulo, my sister, Hay-Hay, and I lined up at an entrance. We soon found ourselves entering the topmost seating area of the coliseum.
We spent the next one and a half hours looking for better seats. When we were finally seated at 6:00 P.M., we waited and tried to be quiet. I did some thinking. I was preparing to hear the President of the Church, whom I had read so much about but did not know as a person. I could play “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet” (Hymns, number 19) on the piano from memory, but was I really thankful? I knew about President Gordon B. Hinckley because I had read about him. I believed he was a prophet because everybody said so. After some reflection, I realized I didn’t have a testimony of him. I realized that to have a testimony of him, I needed to know him and love him.
Suddenly the crowd stood up. Some people said President Hinckley had arrived. But after five minutes, we realized he hadn’t and sat down. I joked that it was just practice—we’d be able to stand with elegance and unity when he did arrive. The second time we stood, he still hadn’t arrived. The third time I was skeptical, but the choir began singing “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet.” Some people were waving, and some were clapping. Then I saw him; he passed right in front of us. We sat down when he motioned for us to sit, and the meeting began.
The first speaker talked about missionary work in the Philippines and how it has progressed in the short time since Elder Gordon B. Hinckley gave his first speech here in April 1961. At that time Elder Hinckley said, “What we begin here will affect the lives of thousands and thousands of people in this island republic, and its effects will go on from generation to generation for great and everlasting good” (“Dateline Philippines,” Tambuli, April 1991, 17). He was right; the Philippines now has more than 350,000 Church members.
President Hinckley counseled the young people to be “honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous,” and to do “good to all men” (A of F 1:13). He counseled all students to seek after the best education they can attain. He counseled single members to find worthy companions and marry in the temple for time and eternity. He apologized for not being able to hug and shake hands with all 35,000 people in the congregation. But he sent his love and his special blessing to each of us—blessing us that we would walk uprightly before the Lord.
While he was speaking, I felt his love—personally. At that moment, he became real to me. He has real love to offer to people, I thought. I couldn’t help but love him back. This was the first time I had ever had such an experience. His love answered many doubts in my mind. Finally I had a testimony that he is a prophet of God. I had not just knowledge, but a real testimony!
The meeting ended with the choir singing “God Be with You Till We Meet Again” (Hymns, number 152). President Hinckley and his companions walked down the aisle waving for the last time—until we meet again.
Tears were flowing from people’s eyes as they sent their love and gratitude to him.
I went home thanking my Heavenly Father for a prophet. I went home knowing that Heavenly Father has much in store for me. And because I had come to know a prophet of God, I went home knowing myself a little better.

As my parents reached middle age, my mother encountered early-onset Alzheimer’s. My father was determined to faithfully serve as her caretaker, even when her condition required full-time care. Even through these latter years, my father reached out to me through weekly, and, in some periods, daily, phone calls and letters. I had always had a close relationship with both my parents, but during the last 10 years of my father’s life, we became particularly close. I realized then too that he was equally successful in drawing near to my three siblings in the same way—even given the differences in interests and faiths we chose as we all grew older.
Photograph by Del Benson
My parents and my family lived on opposite coasts of the United States during those last years, and they made two cross-country visits, even though my mother’s Alzheimer’s had advanced to the point where assisting her on a long-distance flight was very difficult for Dad.
At this same time, one by one my children all decided to stop attending church. Two eventually had their names removed from Church records. This has certainly been the trial of both my wife’s and my life. And even though he wasn’t a Latter-day Saint, my father was pained and confused by our children’s choices as well. He was a privately religious man, and he joined us through those years in praying for them.
In 2005 my father passed away after being diagnosed with cancer, and my mother passed away three years later. My wife and I rejoiced in acting as their proxies in providing temple ordinances after their deaths.
I’ve long prayed to understand how best to relate to our children now that they’re adults, some with their own spouses and children, none of whom are LDS. We are emotionally close to all four of our children, and we are grateful that they often reach out in love to us.
I eventually received a very clear answer of how I must conduct myself, possibly for the rest of my life, regarding these adult children. I needed to do what my father had done with me. In spite of the different lives we lived and the different religious perspectives we had, my father was determined to draw closer to me as a father and a friend while I experienced the pain of seeing my children choose different lifestyles and beliefs from mine. I realized I must follow the example of my father, who taught me how to treat children of a different faith: love them completely, just as the Savior would.

Soon after I completed my schooling at Utah State, I was working as a Music Therapist in south Louisiana. I was fortunate, and blessed to become well acquainted with my landlords, MaryAnne and Lindy Hoffmann, in the town of Thibodaux, Louisiana. The Hoffmanns owned the music store in Thibodaux. They had no children of their own, and they treated me like a daughter from the very beginning. Lindy was a drummer, and MaryAnne played the piano and clarinet. They were "my people" immediately. We became fast friends, and my parents back in Utah were very grateful to know that their still quite shy daughter was being looked after. They invited me to join them playing in the community band, which I did, and loved. I taught oboe lessons in the back rooms of the music store, and was invited to an occasional dinner. We spent lovely Sunday afternoons in the upstairs great room. But the thing I enjoyed most were my chats with MaryAnne in the evenings after work on the swing in the back yard of their beautiful southern home. They could see in me the teacher and musician that I had always wanted to be. I was working as a music therapist, but they helped me achieve my true dream of being in front of a band! These wonderful people helped initiate a change in my life that eventually brought me here to BYU-Idaho. When the time was right, I moved back to Utah and began my career as a high school band director.

The Hoffmanns are much like my own parents. They are hard workers, they are committed to serving others, they love their family, they are good, and they are honest people. I love being in their company. I always want to be the best I can be when I am in their presence. Lindy and MaryAnne are not members of our church. They have always been supportive of my beliefs and way of life, and the way they live their lives they might as well be members. One of my greatest hopes is that I have been as positive of an influence in their lives as they have been in mine. I have visited my sweet friends several times over the years, but not enough. I spoke with them on Mother's Day just a few weeks ago. They are aging, and I think of them often. They are givers. Their influence on me was life changing. They have been, and are, a blessing beyond my description, and I love them so!