Gospel Story Finder

One time while going through the St. Louis (Missouri) railroad station, I met a minister at the servicemen’s canteen. He invited me into a small conference room so that we could talk. He asked me if I belonged to a church; I replied that I did not. He said that in my career in the armed service I would, no doubt, find myself in company that would not be the best for me, that there would be girls who would desire my association and that my friends might try to convince me that it would be stupid not to take shrewd advantage of these situations. But he said that remaining clean and chaste was not stupid—it was very wise; and that although there were many who thought the life of Jesus Christ was a weak and senseless way to live, their opinion did not make it so. He said that a clean life was to be highly prized and that when I married—as I surely would some day—I should be as morally clean and virtuous as I would expect my bride to be. Living a pure life might be difficult, but it would be well worth my efforts; for one thing, I would be better able to draw strength and courage to meet the challenge of demanding situations in the military. He also said it would be best for me to make my decision about this right then, while I could still view it with a detached perspective.
That encounter was very impressive to me. I knew that what he told me was true, but I did not realize at that time that I had made a decision to follow his counsel. Afterwards I faced many dangerous moral situations, but somehow I came through unscathed, as though someone were protecting me.

At first, I didn’t know how to start; that task alone felt daunting. But over the next year, I relied on the Lord and His infinite goodness to get me through each day. I found so much strength and peace of mind in reading the messages of prophets, pondering the temple covenants I had made, setting even just 10 minutes aside each night to read the scriptures, and communing with Heavenly Father in prayer throughout the day.
As I did these things, I began to see His hand in my life. I didn’t know who I was or what path in life to choose. I didn’t know what path could ever make me feel good enough. But I soon realized that what I really needed was to know who I was to God.
I am now in my last semester at university. Among all the stresses of being a student, employee, daughter, sister, and friend, I have realized that knowing my worth and understanding how God feels about me are vital to my success in all that I do.
There are still many unknowns about my future, and that’s OK.
For me, knowing that I don’t have to be perfect right now helps get me through each day. I know that God is aware of me. I also know that even when I can’t feel His love, He still is patiently working with me.
Over the past few years of this struggle, God has helped me discover qualities and talents in myself that I would have never noticed before. Most importantly, in time, through personal revelation and daily efforts to understand God’s will for me, I’ve learned how He feels about me. I’ve been able to draw liberally on the Savior’s power and the blessings of His Atonement in my life. This has helped me to feel God’s love and know that I am His beloved daughter.
In reading the messages of the prophets, I was touched when I read these words from President Russell M. Nelson: “Feelings of worth come when a woman follows the example of the Master. Her sense of infinite worth comes from her own Christlike yearning to reach out with love, as He does.”
He also noted, “[A woman’s] self-esteem is earned by individual righteousness and a close relationship with God.”1 From this, I have come to understand that who I am is more than the combination of the things I do or say. I am an eternal being with an extraordinary calling to lead with love and compassion, just as the Savior did. And that understanding transcends anything my depression may try to tell me.
Even now, I still find myself sometimes forgetting what God’s love feels like and what lasting joys there are in the smallest and most ordinary moments of life. But the miracle of Christ’s Atonement is that it is not only for repentance; His grace also enables us to get through each day and to love ourselves. I forget that fact a lot, but it is still true.
There is no escaping that we are prone to human nature and that these moments of divine clarity and inspiration may not always feel so true. So to help us, we can write down and look back on the times when we have felt God’s love. We can keep trying to seek ways to feel that love. Our daily worship and continued efforts to deepen our personal holiness will not only strengthen our relationship with our Heavenly Father but also increase our personal happiness and self-esteem. Christ can magnify these efforts to help us become who our Father in Heaven wants us to be.
I am determined to keep trying because I have hope in Christ. I know that life will continue to get better and that I will grow as I rely on Him. Once I discovered how infinite God’s love for me was, I was able to find greater strength each day to push past heartbreaks and overcome my feelings of inadequacy and my need for perfection.
When I find myself falling back into my insecurities, I remember that God thinks that I am funny, kind, giving, and beautiful. Most of all, I remember that He sees me trying.
President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018) declared: “God’s love is there for you whether or not you feel you deserve [it]. It is simply always there.”2 I am so grateful for this truth. In our deepest struggles, we can see God’s glory in helping us move forward. He is always cheering us on.

“My mother had taken me to an elocution teacher. Our family was very fortunate because my father had a good job and could afford to give us that kind of training. Then a wonderful opportunity came. Someone in the sixth grade was to be chosen to speak in the great Tabernacle on Temple Square for the school festival. I just knew it was going to be me.”
“It wasn’t. In her disappointment, Elaine had no way of knowing that one day her voice would not only be heard in the great Tabernacle on Temple Square, but would be broadcast from that very spot to the nations of the world. But without the advantage of knowing the future, how did she handle the present?
“Well, at first I thought, ‘What good does it do to work and train and prepare? People just choose their friends.’ But I got over that. I’ve always been a true believer in the Lord, so I could go to my Heavenly Father and say, ‘How come? Didn’t I work hard enough? What did I do wrong? How did I blow it?’” She was learning at a young age to pour out her heart as she would to a loving father and expect answers to come.
“But you know, sometimes you think you have learned something, and then you have to relearn it again and again, and then finally you really learn it. As a child I thought that if you tried out and you didn’t win, you were a failure. By the time I reached college, I had really learned to seek the Lord for direction and comfort.”
Sister Cannon came to realize that being distracted by the selfish aims of position, prestige, power, and popularity may gradually ease you away from what you really want ultimately; they will lead you away from that sometimes discouraging climb towards heights never dreamed of in the beginning.
“This is what I learned: When I simply did what was at hand for me to do and did it the very best I could every day, not worrying about other things, those very experiences that were important to my preparation for other opportunities down the line came into my life naturally.”
She also learned that personal disappointment could be cured by service to others:
“I ran for president of my high school Women’s Association and lost. I felt that losing left me out of everything, and I really wanted to be in. But instead of feeling sorry for myself, I worked with one of my teachers to plan a marvelous party for the girl who beat me.
“When you lose and you’re really hurt, you can just reach out. If someone offends you or gets the honor or the award or job that you wanted, you just say to someone, ‘What can I do for you?’ And then you try to reach out to another and away from your own hurt.”

“As the plane came in for its landing I could see again all the old familiar sights that had been so far away for the last two years. As I walked down the stairs from the plane, I could see a whole montage of family faces looking out the terminal window at me. Mom, Dad, both grandmas, and good old Grandpa George. Wow, that tall blond guy must be Allen; he’s grown a foot! The arrival and reunion was teary and joyous and all that I had hoped it would be, but on the way home the two youngest were fighting in the car, and Dad called the guy in front of us a blockhead for changing lanes too quickly, and Grandpa George told that same old elk hunting story again.
“I had been gone for a long time and had experienced some deeply moving spiritual and emotional moments, and the family just didn’t seem to understand. They hadn’t changed much; I really couldn’t see much of a change in them at all except that Lindsey and Allen were bigger and louder. Somehow I wanted to tell them that I was different. I really knew the gospel was true now, and I wanted them to know how very important it was.”
This is one young missionary’s return-home story, a story not necessarily typical of all missionaries, but a story that does point out some of the problems that a young returning missionary will face as he or she tries to adjust once again to family, home, and friends.

Recently I had an engaging conversation with a young man who was contemplating a mission. As we talked, it became apparent that he was struggling with his decision, because he was questioning the strength of his testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. He wanted to know why he had not received more clear answers to his prayers and study of the scriptures.
This young man, whom I will call Jim, was raised in the mission field in a home with loving parents who were doing their best to teach gospel principles to their children.
He is an outstanding athlete and popular among his friends at school. However, he is only one of a very few LDS students in a large high school.
Having raised my family in the mission field, I quickly related to Jim’s challenges of wanting to stay true to gospel principles while being accepted by good friends, yet friends whose values and beliefs generally differed from his.
He was looking for further confirmation of his testimony of Jesus Christ and the Restoration of the gospel.
Today I speak to Jim and many others like him—young men and young women across the world who are unsure about their testimonies but very much want to develop strong, vibrant testimonies that will guide them through the shoals of life that lie ahead.
I also speak to those adults who have not yet felt deeply the spirit of the gospel in their lives. In the absence of a compelling testimony, some have let their daily thoughts and actions become so focused on the things of the world that they have minimized the influence of the light of the gospel in their everyday lives.
And then as Elder Neal A. Maxwell has so eloquently described, also included are those “‘honorable’ members who are skimming over the surface instead of deepening their discipleship and who are casually engaged rather than ‘anxiously engaged’ (D&C 76:75; D&C 58:27)” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1992, 89; or Ensign, Nov. 1992, 65).
As I attended the funeral services of Elder Neal A. Maxwell and Elder David B. Haight and listened to their well-deserved tributes, I more fully internalized the extraordinary examples of testimony and discipleship that the lives of these two great brethren demonstrated. I kept pondering how their examples could help strengthen our testimonies and deepen our resolve to come closer to Christ.
These two great disciples of Christ exemplify President Gordon B. Hinckley’s admonition to all of us when he said: “I have been quoted as saying, ‘Do the best you can.’ But I want to emphasize that it be the very best. We are too prone to be satisfied with mediocre performance. We are capable of doing so much better” (“Standing Strong and Immovable,” Worldwide Leadership Training Meeting, 10 Jan. 2004, 21).
Surely President Hinckley’s counsel and encouragement applies as much to the development and strengthening of our testimonies of Jesus Christ as to anything else.
True testimonies bring the light of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ into our lives and focus all of us toward the same goal of returning to our Father in Heaven—yet our individual testimonies come through varied experiences and at different stages in our lives.
Like Jim, as a young man I was privileged to have “goodly parents” (1 Ne. 1:1). They taught gospel principles and values to our family by precept and example. As a young boy I thought I had a testimony. I believed! Then came some personal spiritual experiences through faith, prayer, scripture study, and especially father’s blessings in our home that caused me to think more seriously about the principles I had been taught and believed—but even more deeply about what I was beginning to feel. I will be forever grateful to parents who helped coach me through those precious spiritual experiences. They have had a lasting impact on me and on the strength of my testimony.
I think Alma must have had us in mind as he was teaching the Zoramites how to gain testimonies of the truth:
“But behold, if ye will awake and arouse your faculties, even to an experiment upon my words, and exercise a particle of faith, yea, even if ye can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you, even until ye believe in a manner that ye can give place for a portion of my words” (Alma 32:27).
Alma then went on to “compare the word unto a seed.” He explained that as hearts are opened, “it will begin to swell within your breasts” (Alma 32:28). Alma then gave us the key to developing a successful testimony:
“But if ye will nourish the word, yea, nourish the tree as it beginneth to grow, by your faith with great diligence, and with patience, looking forward to the fruit thereof, it shall take root; and behold it shall be a tree springing up unto everlasting life” (Alma 32:41).
And then the promise!
“Then, my brethren, ye shall reap the rewards of your faith, and your diligence, and patience, and long-suffering, waiting for the tree to bring forth fruit unto you” (Alma 32:43).
Think with me for a moment, brothers and sisters, about what Alma is teaching us.
First, we must have a sincere desire to believe. Phrases such as “awake,” “arouse your faculties,” “experiment,” and “exercise a particle of faith” are action words that suggest sustained effort on our part.
His description of the swelling in our breast describes the feeling of the Holy Spirit. And as Moroni promises, “By the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things” (Moro. 10:5).
To keep that Spirit growing, Alma says we must nourish it by “faith with great diligence, and with patience.” He then promises that the rewards of faith, diligence, patience, and long-suffering will bring forth everlasting life (Alma 32:41; see also Alma 32:43).
Like Alma, latter-day prophets have been clear in their teachings of the things we need to do to develop and strengthen our testimonies.
We have been sent here to work out our individual salvation through the tests and challenges of daily life. We cannot do that by relying heavily upon the borrowed light of someone else’s testimony. As we receive inspiration when we hear prophets, leaders, and peers bear their testimonies, those spiritual feelings should further enhance our desire to strengthen our own convictions.
To my young friend, and to all wherever you may be, never give up on the Lord. The answer to your prayers may not be as clear or as timely as you would like, but keep praying. The Lord is listening! As you pray, ask for help in understanding the promptings of the Holy Spirit. And then do your very best to be worthy to receive those promptings. As you recognize or feel the impressions and whisperings of the Spirit, then act upon them.
Daily fervent prayers seeking forgiveness and special help and direction are essential to our lives and the nourishment of our testimonies. When we become hurried, repetitive, casual, or forgetful in our prayers, we tend to lose the closeness of the Spirit, which is so essential in the continual direction we need to successfully manage the challenges of our everyday lives. Family prayer every morning and night adds additional blessings and power to our individual prayers and to our testimonies.
Personal, sincere involvement in the scriptures produces faith, hope, and solutions to our daily challenges. Frequently reading, pondering, and applying the lessons of the scriptures, combined with prayer, become an irreplaceable part of gaining and sustaining a strong, vibrant testimony.
President Spencer W. Kimball reminded us of the importance of consistent scripture reading when he said, “I find that when I get casual in my relationships with divinity and when it seems … no divine voice is speaking, … if I immerse myself in the scriptures the distance narrows and the spirituality returns” (The Teachings of Spencer W. Kimball, ed. Edward L. Kimball [1982], 135).
The Savior taught, “Search the scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life: and they are they which testify of me” (John 5:39).
The strong, unwavering testimonies that so many of you wonderful, faithful members of the Church embrace have come from prayerfully following counsel from our prophets and the scriptures. That same priceless blessing is available to each of us who earnestly seek it.
To my young friend Jim, and all others who may have periodic concerns about the strength of their testimonies, know that you are loved and watched over daily by your Father in Heaven. He will respond as you strive to keep His commandments and reach out for His loving hand.
We all share the same promise that the Lord gave to the Prophet Joseph Smith: “Draw near unto me and I will draw near unto you; seek me diligently and ye shall find me; ask, and ye shall receive; knock, and it shall be opened unto you” (D&C 88:63).
Our prophet’s call to do our “very best” challenges each of us, individually and within our families, to carefully examine our personal lives and then commit to change those things which will more fully assure our testimonies are strong and secure.
Strong testimonies become the driving force for each of us to do “much better.” They become the impenetrable bulwark of armor that protects us from the unrelenting things of the world.
I bear my witness that we have a loving, caring Father in Heaven and that He and His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ, appeared to the boy Joseph to usher in the Restoration of the gospel in this last dispensation.
Jesus Christ heads this Church. President Gordon B. Hinckley is His chosen prophet.
May we have the courage and the conviction to follow the prophet’s counsel. As we do so, our personal testimonies will be secure. That this may be so I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

This is illustrated by a news commentary, the author of which is Michael Josephson. Mr. Josephson said:
Though I get special pleasure out of hosting Thanksgiving dinner for my large extended family, the real burden of the holiday falls on the lovely shoulders of my wife, Anne. She's the one who deals with tenting the yard and organizing the feast including three turkeys and a symphony of side dishes. And she does all this while juggling our four young children, a big dog and two new puppies. So you can understand if her enthusiasm for the holiday is more muted.
There was a time when I thought she was going to resign. It was a week after she planned and hosted a business reception at our home for nearly 100 people and she was weary. She told me how she had come to dread the pressure and work of Thanksgiving. Then, just as I was bracing myself to hear her renounce the job, she completely surprised me by changing direction. 'This year,' she said, 'I have a whole new feeling toward the holiday. I've been thinking about it a lot and I've decided to be grateful rather than resentful.' Then she told me how lucky we are to have such a large and close family and the space and resources to provide Thanksgivings that our children will always remember.
Can you see why I love her so much? She has taught me that gratitude is not always a spontaneous emotion; often, it's a matter of choice. It's a perspective of appreciation that doesn't necessarily make life easier, but it always makes it better.

Many years ago, my husband and I heard a meaningful story that we have repeated often to our children. The story is about an old rattlesnake who asked a passing young boy to carry him to the mountaintop to see one last sunset before the snake died. The boy was hesitant, but the rattlesnake promised not to bite him in exchange for the ride. After that concession, the boy kindly carried the snake to the top of the mountain where they watched the sunset together.

After carrying the snake back down to the valley floor, the boy prepared a meal for himself and a bed for the night. In the morning, the snake asked, “Please, little boy, will you take me back to my home? It is now time for me to leave this world, and I would like to return to my home.” The little boy felt he had been safe and the snake had kept his word, so he decided he would take the snake home as requested.

He carefully picked up the snake, held it close to his chest, and carried him back into the desert to his home to die. Just before he laid the rattlesnake down, the rattlesnake turned and bit him in the chest. The little boy cried out and threw the snake upon the ground. “Mr. Snake, why did you do that? Now I will surely die!” The rattlesnake looked up at him and grinned: “You knew what I was when you picked me up.”

A beauty contest for guys? Well sure, why not? It’s the custom at Springfield High School in Oregon, and last year the only three LDS contestants won first, second, and third places.
Eric Markworth of the Springfield Second Ward was crowned Mr. SHS. First runner-up was Kevin Jones, also of the Springfield Second Ward. Second runner-up was Johnny Gambee of Springfield First Ward. His sister Beth was the emcee for the event. The contestants were judged in formal wear, sportswear, and talent.
All four of the LDS students involved were early-morning seminary students, and all but Johnny, who is a junior, graduated from four years of seminary. That means the winner might have to crown himself next year. The previous winner and first runner-up will be on missions.

Another Mormon boy was sent east to an officers’ training school. A new commanding officer came into the camp, and they put on a banquet to honor him. There, by every plate, was a cocktail glass. When the proper time came, every one of those potential officers stood up with his cocktail glass to toast that incoming officer. All but one boy, and he raised a glass of milk.
Well, the officer saw it. He made a beeline for that boy after the entertainment was over, and he said, “Why did you toast me with a glass of milk?”
“Well, officer,” he said, “I’ve never touched liquor in my life. I don’t want to touch it; my parents wouldn’t want me to touch it; and I didn’t think you would want me to either. And I wanted to toast you, so I thought you would be satisfied if I toasted you with what I am accustomed to drinking.”
The officer said, “You report at headquarters in the morning,” and told him what time.
I suppose that boy spent a sleepless night, but when he went into the officer’s quarters the next morning, the officer assigned him a place on his staff with this explanation: “I want to surround myself with men who have the courage to do what they think is right regardless of what anybody else thinks about it.”

While the whole Bennion family is special, each of the children stands out with his or her own unique talents and personality. One time when Kiera was three years old, her parents took her to see her cousins perform in a band in which they played violins. That night at home, Kiera walked in with her mother’s high heel shoe tucked under her chin and a screwdriver in her hand, pretending to play the shoe like a violin. Now she takes lessons on a real violin and on a piano, but it’s easy to see that her love for music started long ago.

Some time ago, one of the students on this campus called my home to report what sounded to me like a condition of epidemic proportions. It was just before finals. Shelly, who happens to be my niece, explained that she and her roommates were stressed out and needed a place to escape for the weekend. I, of course, was delighted to provide the place. They said there had hardly been a weekend or even a day when they had not been completely overloaded. “So much to do and so little time” was their comment as they talked of schedules, commitments, expectations, pressures, and even some anxieties about dates, deadlines, decisions, finances, future obligations, and unlimited opportunities.

President Wilford Woodruff recounted the difficulties of early missionary work:
“In my early missions, when preaching in the Southern States—Arkansas, Tennessee, and Kentucky—I have waded swamps and rivers and have walked seventy miles or more without eating. In those days we counted it a blessing to go into a place where there was a Latter-day Saint. I went once 150 miles to see one; and when I got there he had apostatized, and tried to kill me. Then, after travelling seventy-two miles without food, I sat down to eat my meal with a Missouri mobocrat, and he damning and cursing me all the time. … In those days we might travel hundreds and hundreds of miles and you could not find a Latter-day Saint.”

My husband had to drive out of state on business one night. It was not a long drive, and he anticipated arriving about 7:00 P.M. He left, saying he would call when he got there. By eight o’clock I was starting to worry, and by ten I was getting increasingly upset. I would try, off and on, to get some sleep; but by 2:00 A.M. I knew that I needed the comfort of the Holy Ghost. I knelt, unable to sleep, almost sick with fear, and prayed for the Holy Ghost to comfort me and give me a sense of peace if everything was all right. Twice during the night I had this sense of calm for a few minutes, but I rationalized it away, being unaccustomed to listening to that kind of spiritual prompting. I ignored the feelings I had because I felt that logically, if everything were all right, he would find some way to get in touch with me.
The next morning I was able to locate him and found out that he was fine; my usually considerate husband had simply forgotten to call. How much less painful that night would have been if I had accepted the whisperings of the Spirit and not rejected them.

I was busy shopping one day some years ago when two young women asked if they could speak with me. “Certainly,” I replied.
“If you died today,” they asked, “would you go to heaven?”
They must have noticed my surprise, because they immediately opened their copies of the Bible and quoted a verse from the New Testament. “All you need to do to go to heaven,” they declared, “is to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ.”
What followed is still a painful memory. I was amazed at their doctrine, and I tried to remember what I had learned at Sunday School, seminary and college religion classes I had taken on the New Testament; but I could give only one scripture to indicate that there was more to entering the kingdom of heaven than simply a profession of faith.
The two women quickly quoted other scriptures similar to the first. I could share some of my beliefs as a Latter-day Saint, but I could not quote the principles from the scriptures. Unconvinced by my feeble arguments, they soon left me. I watched them walking hurriedly up to the next shopper.
“It is a common thing,” President Spencer W. Kimball said, “to have a few passages of scripture at our disposal, floating in our minds, as it were, and thus to have the illusion that we know a great deal about the gospel.”
Such an illusion was mine!
“Each of us,” he continued, “at some time in our lives, must discover the scriptures for ourselves—and not just discover them once, but rediscover them again and again.” (Tambuli, September, 1976.)
The experience discouraged me, and I determined to never again be unprepared. I set aside some regular study time, and began to discover the gospel again.

This truth came to me in a most vivid and dramatic manner some thirty-one years ago. I was serving as a bishop. The general session of our stake conference was being held in the Assembly Hall. Our stake presidency was to be reorganized. The Aaronic Priesthood, including members of bishoprics, were providing the music for the conference. As we concluded singing our first selection, President Joseph Fielding Smith, our conference visitor, stepped to the pulpit and read for sustaining approval the names of the new stake presidency. I am confident that the other members of the stake presidency had been made aware of their callings, but I had not. After reading my name, President Smith announced: “If Brother Monson is willing to respond to this call, we shall be pleased to hear from him now.”
As I stood at the pulpit and gazed out on that sea of faces, I remembered the song we had just sung. Its title was “Have Courage, My Boy, to Say No.” That day I selected as my acceptance theme, “Have Courage, My Boy, to Say Yes.”

For Sam, high school isn’t just about sports. She likes going to school and learning. She confesses she actually likes chemistry, something she won’t say out loud in the halls. And she loves starting her day in seminary. When her friends ask her what time she gets up and they hear her say, “Oh, 4:30 or 5:00,” they’re surprised. But for Sam, early-morning seminary is the best. “There are about eight different high schools in the Fenton Ward, so my Church friends are all spread out. When we get together, it’s fun. We joke and laugh and have a good time. By the time I get to school, I’m wide awake.
“I’m actually trying to bring my school friends and Church friends together,” she says. “At first they were hesitant about meeting, but now my school friends tell me that they like my friends. They like the wholesomeness about us. They just like the things we talk about.”
During one game, Sam looked up into the stands and saw her parents sitting by her Young Women leader with two of her best friends from school and one of her friends from the ward. They were laughing, and Sam remembers being amazed and pleased. “The next day at school, that’s all my friends could talk about—how nice this girl was and how she didn’t use inappropriate language and didn’t talk about vulgar things. I’m glad my Church friends can leave an impression like that. They’ll remember that.”

During a visit to the afflicted area prior to the distribution of the packets, Elder and Sister Johnston met a little boy named Cosmin. His house had been destroyed and he was living under a tarp.
When the Johnstons returned a while later with food, he and his family were nowhere to be found.
“We desperately wanted to find them,” said Elder Johnston. “We promised them we would return with help. We left the distribution to others and began scouring the faces in the crowd of refugees, hoping to find him and his father and mother.
“Near the end of the day, after most materials were distributed, we found them standing off a distance from everyone else, waiting patiently. They were a contrast to the majority who pushed and shoved their way to the front of the line. We were touched by their humility and gratitude. Little Cosmin soon brought us flowers and said, ‘Thank you.’”

A young mother of two sons was busy with a part-time job at home and a demanding Church calling. “It seemed I had no time for my small children,” she recalled. She was often so involved in her work that her sons had to go to great lengths to get her attention—and she was often impatient with them.
So she decided to organize an “activity time” she could enjoy with her sons each morning. As she spent that time with them in prayer, singing, and fun activities, she gained a greater appreciation for each and began to really enjoy the time they spent together. She was amazed at what a little love and attention brought about!
This mother had discovered one of the “secrets” to making her home a sanctuary from the world and its cares. The early Saints were told to make the temple they were building “a house of prayer … a house of learning … a house of God” (see D&C 88:119). In the same way, we should make our homes havens of love where we and other family members can grow and learn to practice self-control and to serve, understand, and forgive each other.

I hadn’t even been thinking of the new kid down the street—not until Mom remarked one evening at the supper table, “Toby Walker’s mom is surely glad that Toby has a good friend like you.”
I choked on my milk and looked across the table at Mom to see if she was kidding. “Who said I was Toby Walker’s friend?” I asked.
“Toby told his mom that you were his best friend,” Mom answered, glancing at me.
I set my glass down and licked the milk from my lips. “I have plenty of good friends without Toby,” I mumbled.
“Maybe Toby needs you for a friend,” Dad said as he reached for the rolls.
I shrugged my shoulders and tried to think about eating my peas and carrots. “Toby’s all right,” I grumbled. “It’s not that I don’t like him. It’s just … well, it’s just …”
Mom and Dad both stared at me and waited for me to explain. “I’m never mean to him,” I said, poking at my peas and carrots with my fork. “I don’t play keep-away with his hat or hide his books or tell him he can’t play baseball with us. I don’t say mean things to him.”
“Do you do nice things for him?” Mom asked.
“Or tell the other kids not to be mean to him?” Dad asked.
“Why should I do that?” I blurted out. “Toby’s not my—” I shoved a forkful of peas and carrots into my mouth, but I had a hard time chewing them, and I could fell my face turning red.
I didn’t think much about Toby until the next day at noon recess, when we were getting ready to choose up teams for baseball. Bobby Mills and I were the captains, and we were each trying to choose the best team that we could. I didn’t pay any attention to Toby until everyone else had been chosen and he was the only one left. It was Bobby’s turn to choose. He took one look at Toby and growled, “You can’t play, Walker. It will make the teams uneven.” Then he grinned. “Why don’t you see if the girls will let you play?”
Everybody laughed and headed onto the field. Toby stood looking down at the ground and digging at the grass with the toe of his shoe. Just as I was about to turn and run out to first base, Toby looked up and stared at me. He had big, sad brown eyes that looked out from under a shaggy mop of sandy hair. He didn’t say anything. He just turned and walked off and sat on the school steps to watch us play.
I tried to think about baseball. I tried to laugh and make jokes with the other guys, but I kept remembering Toby’s sad eyes. I also remembered what Mom and Dad had said the night before, and I wondered what it would be like to have no friends at school.
All afternoon I thought about Toby. When I came home from school, I was still thinking about him. As I dragged my feet up our walk, I glanced up and saw myself in the glass in our front door. Usually I liked to watch myself in the glass. My reflection was like having a good friend come out to greet me. But this afternoon I took one look in the glass, ducked my head, and went around to the back door, where there wasn’t a reflection. I knew then that I’d lost two friends that day—Toby and the guy in the glass.
The next day on my way home from school I spotted Toby a half block ahead of me. He was alone as usual. His head was down, his hands were in his pockets, and he was kicking a battered pop can down the sidewalk. For a long time I just watched him, staying back so that he wouldn’t know that I was there. Finally I hurried to catch up with him. “Hey,” I called out, “where’re you headed, Toby?”
He jumped and whirled around like he was scared; but as soon as he saw that it was me, he smiled and mumbled, “Hi, Kyle.”
I bit down on my lip. “I have a pretty nice tree house in my backyard,” I said. “Dad helped me make it. Want to come over and see it?”
Toby looked at me to see if I was kidding him. I wasn’t, so he nodded and we headed for my place.
We had a good time that afternoon. Toby was quiet at first, but it wasn’t long until he was talking and laughing and having a good time just like any other kid. I was having a good time too. We played Tarzan in the tree house, shot some marbles, played catch with my new football. And while we had cookies and milk on the back steps, we just talked. I liked Toby. He was as good a friend as a guy could have.
That afternoon I grinned at the guy I saw when I went into the house through the front door.
The next day at recess Bobby Mills said something about Toby always wearing the same pants and that they were full of fleas. Everybody laughed and started making fun of Toby, and he walked off by himself and sat under the weeping willow tree at the corner of the school grounds. I didn’t say anything bad about Toby or laugh at him. But I didn’t stick up for him either, not like a real friend would have done. That afternoon when I went home, I had to go through the back door again because I knew I couldn’t face the guy in the glass.
After supper I found Dad in the living room, reading the paper. “How can a guy be a real friend?” I asked.
Dad looked up and asked, “What do you mean, Kyle?”
I looked down at the floor. “It’s easy to be a friend to Toby here at home,” I said, “but when I go to school, I’m scared to be friends. I keep wondering if everyone else will start to laugh at me like they do at him.”
Dad dropped the paper on the floor and thought for a while. “Being a friend isn’t always easy,” he said. “Sometimes it takes more courage to be a friend than to be anything else.”
“Can a guy have that much courage?” I mumbled.
Dad reached over and squeezed my arm. “When Jesus was on the earth,” he said, “there were lots of men and women that other people didn’t like. There were poor people, lepers, publicans, and sinners. People probably made fun of them and wouldn’t be friends with them or even talk to them. But Jesus was a friend to everyone who needed Him. He knew that being a friend was very important. In fact, He said, ‘Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends’ [John 15:13]. And while we may not have to give up our lives for our friends, we should be willing to defend them when necessary, even when it’s not easy.”
That night when I knelt down by my bed, I prayed harder than I’d ever prayed before. I asked Heavenly Father to help me have the courage to be Toby’s friend.
At school the next day my stomach was churning and flopping, and I kept licking my lips and chewing my fingernails. The closer the clock’s little hand got to the twelve, the more I twisted and squirmed in my seat.
At lunch I finished my sandwich, drank my milk, and headed for the baseball diamond. When I got there, everyone else was lined up and ready for Bobby and me to choose sides.
I had hoped that Toby would be there, but he was over on the steps by himself. I told myself that since he wasn’t on the field ready to play, I didn’t have to help him out, that he didn’t want to play, that maybe he liked being by himself. I looked around, about to choose someone else. But I couldn’t. I knew I had a job to do. I thought about Jesus and the lepers and the publicans, and I knew what He would do if He had to choose a team.
“Come on, Kyle,” Bobby said. “You’re choosing first. Let’s get going!”
I looked across the field toward Toby. “Hey, Toby, you’re on my side!” Toby looked up. Even though he was a long way away and I couldn’t see his face, I could tell that he was surprised. I waved for him to come over and shouted again, “Toby, you’re on my team. Hurry!”
For a moment no one said anything. Everyone just stared at me, then at Toby, wondering if I was playing a joke. Even Toby wondered, because he came over kind of slow and had his hands deep in his pockets and was just waiting for someone to laugh or tell him to go play with the girls.
“What do you want him for?” Bobby asked.
I guess he thought I would choose Billy Taylor or Brandon Cooper or Justin Knight. I just shrugged and said, “your turn, Bobby.”
“He doesn’t even have a mitt,” Bobby growled.
“I’ll let him use mine,” I answered.
“You’re going to lose. He doesn’t even know how to play ball.”
“Your turn, Bobby,” I said.
“Who even said he could play?” Bobby demanded, scowling at Toby.
I licked my lips, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. “I said he could play,” I replied hoarsely. “I’m choosing, and I can choose anybody I want. I choose Toby.”
“But why is what I want to know?” Bobby insisted. “Why him?”
“Because he’s my friend,” I answered. The word was out before I really had a chance to think about it, but as soon as I’d said it, I felt good about it, and I knew then that it didn’t really matter who won or who lost the game.
My team didn’t win that day. We lost by two runs. But when I went home that afternoon, I didn’t sneak in the back door. I marched up the front walk and onto the porch and looked my reflection right in the eye. I knew then that I’d made two friends that day—Toby and the guy in the glass.

Finally, let’s look at maintaining gratitude in physical trials. Elder Uchtdorf said, “True gratitude . . . comes from acknowledging that we do not always understand the trials of life but trusting that one day we will.” [18] Danny Seplak is my husband’s cousin. He is an example in our family of a strong spirit. While serving as a missionary he was diagnosed with an aggressive form of bone cancer. Treatment gained him two more years, but the cancer eventually overtook him. Before he passed in June 2000, he drafted the following:

I’m not angry [and don’t] feel cheated in getting this disease. . . . I’ve realized that the important things in life [are] to enjoy my family, my friends, my time, and to find meaning and purpose in my life. . . . Some of the most pleasant and happy moments occur when we just take the time to reflect on life and be grateful. . . . I do have faith in a loving God. I have faith that He cares about our welfare and that He has a plan for us.