Gospel Story Finder

A radiantly happy sister I met in Onitsha, Nigeria, told me that from the time she learned the gospel and was baptized (and now I use her words), “everything is good for me. I am happy. I am in heaven.” Sharing the gospel kindles joy and hope in the souls of both giver and receiver. Truly, “how great shall be your joy” as you share the gospel! Sharing the gospel is joy upon joy, hope upon hope.

The story is about a girl named Eva. There are two important things you should know about Eva. One is that she was 11 years old in this story. And the other is that she absolutely, positively did not want to go and live with her great-aunt Rose. Not at all. No way.

But Eva’s mother was going to have surgery that required a lengthy recovery. So Eva’s parents were sending her to spend the summer with Great-Aunt Rose.

In Eva’s mind, there were a thousand reasons why this was a bad idea. For one thing, it would mean being away from her mother. It would also mean leaving her family and friends. And besides, she didn’t even know Great-Aunt Rose. She was quite comfortable, thank you very much, right where she was.

But no amount of arguing or eye-rolling could change the decision. So Eva packed up a suitcase and took the long drive with her father to Great-Aunt Rose’s house.

From the moment Eva stepped inside the house, she hated it.

Everything was so old! Every inch was packed with old books, strange-colored bottles, and plastic bins spilling over with beads, bows, and buttons.

Great-Aunt Rose lived there alone; she had never married. The only other inhabitant was a gray cat who liked to find the highest point in every room and perch there, staring like a hungry tiger at everything below.

Even the house itself seemed lonely. It was out in the countryside, where the houses are far apart. No one Eva’s age lived within half a mile. That made Eva feel lonely too.

At first she didn’t pay much attention to Great-Aunt Rose. She mostly thought about her mother. Sometimes, she would stay awake at night, praying with all her soul that her mother would be well. And though it didn’t happen right away, Eva began to feel that God was watching over her mother.

Word finally came that the operation was a success, and now all that was left for Eva to do was to endure till the end of summer. But oh, how she hated enduring!

With her mind now at ease about her mother, Eva began to notice Great-Aunt Rose a little more. She was a large woman—everything about her was large: her voice, her smile, her personality. It wasn’t easy for her to get around, but she always sang and laughed while she worked, and the sound of her laughter filled the house. Every night she sat down on her overstuffed sofa, pulled out her scriptures, and read out loud. And as she read, she sometimes made comments like “Oh, he shouldn’t have done that!” or “What wouldn’t I give to have been there!” or “Isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard!” And every evening as the two of them knelt by Eva’s bed to pray, Great-Aunt Rose would say the most beautiful prayers, thanking her Heavenly Father for the blue jays and the spruce trees, the sunsets and the stars, and the “wonder of being alive.” It sounded to Eva as though Rose knew God as a friend.

Over time, Eva made a surprising discovery: Great-Aunt Rose was quite possibly the happiest person she had ever known!

But how could that be?

What did she have to be happy about?

She had never married, she had no children, she had no one to keep her company except that creepy cat, and she had a hard time doing simple things like tying her shoes and walking up stairs.

When she went to town, she wore embarrassingly big, bright hats. But people didn’t laugh at her. Instead, they crowded around her, wanting to talk to her. Rose had been a schoolteacher, and it wasn’t uncommon for former students—now grown up with children of their own—to stop and chat. They thanked her for being a good influence in their lives. They often laughed. Sometimes they even cried.

As the summer progressed, Eva spent more and more time with Rose. They went on long walks, and Eva learned the difference between sparrows and finches. She picked wild elderberries and made marmalade from oranges. She learned about her great-great-grandmother who left her beloved homeland, sailed across an ocean, and walked across the plains to be with the Saints.

Soon Eva made another startling discovery: not only was Great-Aunt Rose one of the happiest persons she knew, but Eva herself was happier whenever she was around her.

The days of summer were passing more quickly now. Before Eva knew it, Great-Aunt Rose said it would soon be time for Eva to return home. Though Eva had been looking forward to that moment since the day she arrived, she wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it now. She realized she was actually going to miss this strange old house with the stalker cat and her beloved great-aunt Rose.

The day before her father arrived to pick her up, Eva asked the question she had been wondering about for weeks: “Aunt Rose, why are you so happy?”

Aunt Rose looked at her carefully and then guided her to a painting that hung in the front room. It had been a gift from a talented dear friend.

“What do you see there?” she asked.

Eva had noticed the painting before, but she hadn’t really looked at it closely. A girl in pioneer dress skipped along a bright blue path. The grass and trees were a vibrant green. Eva said, “It’s a painting of a girl. Looks like she’s skipping.”

“Yes, it is a pioneer girl skipping along happily,” Aunt Rose said. “I imagine there were many dark and dreary days for the pioneers. Their life was so hard—we can’t even imagine. But in this painting, everything is bright and hopeful. This girl has a spring in her step, and she is moving forward and upward.”

Eva was silent, so Great-Aunt Rose continued: “There is enough that doesn’t go right in life, so anyone can work themselves into a puddle of pessimism and a mess of melancholy. But I know people who, even when things don’t work out, focus on the wonders and miracles of life. These folks are the happiest people I know.”

“But,” Eva said, “you can’t just flip a switch and go from sad to happy.”

“No, perhaps not,” Aunt Rose smiled gently, “but God didn’t design us to be sad. He created us to have joy!3 So if we trust Him, He will help us to notice the good, bright, hopeful things of life. And sure enough, the world will become brighter. No, it doesn’t happen instantly, but honestly, how many good things do? Seems to me that the best things, like homemade bread or orange marmalade, take patience and work.”

Eva thought about it a moment and said, “Maybe it’s not so simple for people who don’t have everything perfect in their lives.”

“Dear Eva, do you really think that my life is perfect?” Aunt Rose sat with Eva on the overstuffed sofa. “There was a time when I was so discouraged I didn’t want to go on.”

“You?” Eva asked.

Aunt Rose nodded. “There were so many things I wished for in my life.” As she spoke, a sadness entered her voice that Eva had never heard before. “Most of them never happened. It was one heartbreak after another. One day I realized that it would never be the way I had hoped for. That was a depressing day. I was ready to give up and be miserable.”

“So what did you do?”

“Nothing for a time. I was just angry. I was an absolute monster to be around.” Then she laughed a little, but it was not her usual big, room-filling laugh. “‘It’s not fair’ was the song I sang over and over in my head. But eventually I discovered something that turned my whole life around.”

“What was it?”

“Faith,” Aunt Rose smiled. “I discovered faith. And faith led to hope. And faith and hope gave me confidence that one day everything would make sense, that because of the Savior, all the wrongs would be made right. After that, I saw that the path before me wasn’t as dreary and dusty as I had thought. I began to notice the bright blues, the verdant greens, and the fiery reds, and I decided I had a choice—I could hang my head and drag my feet on the dusty road of self-pity, or I could have a little faith, put on a bright dress, slip on my dancing shoes, and skip down the path of life, singing as I went.” Now her voice was skipping along like the girl in the painting.

Aunt Rose reached over to the end table and pulled her well-worn scriptures onto her lap. “I don’t think I was clinically depressed—I’m not sure you can talk yourself out of that. But I sure had talked myself into being miserable! Yes, I had some dark days, but all my brooding and worrying wasn’t going to change that—it was only making things worse. Faith in the Savior taught me that no matter what happened in the past, my story could have a happy ending.”

“How do you know that?” Eva asked.

Aunt Rose turned a page in her Bible and said, “It says it right here:

“‘God … will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God.

“‘And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.’”4

Great-Aunt Rose looked at Eva. Her smile was wide as she whispered, with a slight quiver in her voice, “Isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard?”

It really did sound beautiful, Eva thought.

Aunt Rose turned a few pages and pointed to a verse for Eva to read: “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.”5

“With such a glorious future,” Aunt Rose said, “why get swallowed up in past or present things that don’t go quite the way we planned?”

Eva furrowed her brow. “But wait a minute,” she said. “Are you saying that being happy means just looking forward to happiness in the future? Is all our happiness in eternity? Can’t some of it happen now?”

“Oh, of course it can!” Aunt Rose exclaimed. “Dear child, now is part of eternity. It doesn’t only begin after we die! Faith and hope will open your eyes to the happiness that is placed before you.

“I know a poem that says, ‘Forever—is composed of Nows.’6 I didn’t want my forever to be composed of dark and fearful ‘Nows.’ And I didn’t want to live in the gloom of a bunker, gritting my teeth, closing my eyes, and resentfully enduring to the bitter end. Faith gave me the hope I needed to live joyfully now!”

“So what did you do then?” Eva asked.

“I exercised faith in God’s promises by filling my life with meaningful things. I went to school. I got an education. That led me to a career that I loved.”

Eva thought about this for a moment and said, “But surely being busy isn’t what made you happy. There are a lot of busy people who aren’t happy.”

“How can you be so wise for someone so young?” Aunt Rose asked. “You’re absolutely right. And most of those busy, unhappy people have forgotten the one thing that matters most in all the world—the thing Jesus said is the heart of His gospel.”

“And what is that?” Eva asked.

“It is love—the pure love of Christ,” Rose said. “You see, everything else in the gospel—all the shoulds and the musts and the thou shalts—lead to love. When we love God, we want to serve Him. We want to be like Him. When we love our neighbors, we stop thinking so much about our own problems and help others to solve theirs.”7

“And that is what makes us happy?” Eva asked.

Great-Aunt Rose nodded and smiled, her eyes filling with tears. “Yes, my dear. That is what makes us happy.”

The next day Eva hugged her great-aunt Rose and thanked her for everything she had done. She returned home to her family and her friends and her house and her neighborhood.

But she was never quite the same.

As Eva grew older, she often thought of the words of her great-aunt Rose. Eva eventually married, raised children, and lived a long and wonderful life.

And one day, as she was standing in her own home, admiring a painting of a girl in pioneer dress skipping down a bright blue path, she realized that somehow she had reached the same age her great-aunt Rose was during that remarkable summer.

When she realized this, she felt a special prayer swell within her heart. And Eva felt grateful for her life, for her family, for the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, and for that summer so long ago when Great-Aunt Rose8 taught her about faith, hope, and love.9

Now, one other matter. A week ago I was in Palmyra, New York. I there dedicated two buildings. One was a restoration of the small log home in which the Joseph Smith Sr. family first lived in that area. It was in this humble home that the 14-year-old Joseph determined to go into the nearby grove to ask of God and experienced an incomparable vision of the Father and the Son.
It was in this home that Moroni, the angel, appeared to the boy Joseph, calling him by name and telling him that God had a work for him to do and that his “name should be had for good and evil among all nations, kindreds, and tongues, or that it should be both good and evil spoken of among all people” (JS—H 1:33).
While in Palmyra, I also dedicated the E. B. Grandin Building, where the first edition of the Book of Mormon was printed in 1829 and 1830. It was a bold undertaking to print what Mr. Grandin first regarded as a fraud, and to print an edition of 5,000, which was very large for the time. I am pleased to remind you that since that time we have printed more than 88 million of this remarkable volume.
I am grateful that we have this old building, purchased by a generous member of the Church and donated to the Church. Its very presence confirms the validity of the book, this remarkable testament of the Son of God.

Many of us have had the opportunity of visiting Temple Square in Salt Lake City. On the west wall of the Temple are several items of interest. One of these is a representation of the constellation Ursa Major. Its symbolism was explained by President Harold B. Lee in an address given before a mission presidents seminar on Sunday, July 2, 1961. In introducing his talk President Lee explained that during the construction of the Salt Lake Temple, the architect, Truman O. Angell, had been asked by Brigham Young to write an article for the Millennial Star in hopes that this would help the Saints abroad sense the need for contributions to the building project. In his article Brother Angell described the symbolism of some of the exterior parts of the Temple. President Lee further described Brother Angell’s article by saying:
“There are the sunstones to represent the celestial, the moonstones, and the stars. Now you have all seen those, and there are other things there; but there is one other thing that he mentioned that has particular significance that I ask you to think about here. He said that on the west end of the Temple, underneath the tower or the battlements as they are referred to, just underneath the square of the Temple, there will be depicted the constellation which the astronomers would call Ursa Major—we call it the Dipper—where the pointers will be pointing to the North Star; that was to symbolize and suggest to the mind ‘that, through the Priesthood of God, the lost may find their way.’”

What possible effect can a 14-year-old have on home teaching? I’m just a kid. Who am I to be telling an elder to do his home teaching? Not just an elder, but an elder that I have never met or even seen at church. The only thing I knew about him was his name and that he was an ex-athlete.
I had been called to be a junior home teaching companion three months earlier and still had not visited anyone. It didn’t help that my two best friends were already active home teachers. One was assigned with his father and the other to a member of the elders quorum presidency. My own father was in the bishopric and at that time was not assigned as a home teacher. What could a 14-year-old companion do?
My feelings of guilt had to be Brother Jensen’s fault, I decided. He had been my deacons quorum adviser who taught us how important home teaching was. He also explained that as a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood, it was our duty to be faithful home teachers. He had warned us that we might have to remind and encourage a senior companion to do home teaching.
Well, my options were really very simple. I could continue to wait for my senior companion to call and do my best not to feel guilty, or I could go to his house, introduce myself, and arrange to go home teaching.
On the one hand, he was the senior companion. He was supposed to take charge, not me. Wouldn’t I be assuming too much authority by contacting him? He might even get offended. Better to wait, I thought. Then Brother Jensen’s words would come back to me again.
“If your senior companion doesn’t contact you,” he said, “then you must contact him and let that brother know you are ready to go home teaching.” He explained that if the senior companion still didn’t go home teaching, the responsibility would rest on that senior companion. Until we made the effort to go, we had to share in that failure.
I finally committed to go to my companion and introduce myself.
As I went to church that Sunday, I began to feel more and more nervous. What would my companion think? Would he laugh at me? Maybe he would get mad and run me off. I didn’t feel I could do it, but I had promised to follow through and make the attempt. If he responded negatively, then I would have at least done my part.
I normally walked home from church, passing my companion’s house on the way. As I neared his house, I forced myself up the driveway and said a prayer, very simple, very direct. “Lord, please help me.” My fears left me for the moment, and I quickly climbed the steps to the front door and knocked. I knew someone would answer because I could hear what sounded like a party going on inside. The fear was coming back, but it was too late to run. I had already knocked.
The door opened, and a woman asked me what I wanted. She may have been polite, rude, sensitive, or even abrupt. I don’t know because I was trying hard to remember what it was I was there for.
“Is Brother Johnson here?” I finally asked, timidly.
“Just a minute, please.” I thought I could hear laughter but wasn’t sure. I didn’t have time to breathe before a very tall man stepped to the door. He seemed none too friendly.
“Yeah?” he asked.
My eyes must have been big enough to cover my face. I’m sure he noticed I was scared because he started to smile a little. I calmed down just enough to utter my little prayer in my mind one last, desperate time.
“My name is John,” I began in a voice that didn’t sound scared to me, “and I’m your home teaching companion. I was wondering when we could go home teaching?”
I don’t know if he was amused or surprised, but he didn’t throw me off the porch. Good start, I thought.
He just smiled and said, “Give me your phone number, and I’ll call you back.”
I went home feeling pretty good. I felt that I had made a good effort, and if he didn’t call back, I could say I had tried. When I arrived home, I told my parents what had happened. I don’t think they expected me to get a call.
Later that night, I received a call from Brother Johnson, my companion.
“Can you go home teaching Tuesday at seven?” he asked.
“Uh, sure,” I stammered.
“I’ll pick you up then. Bye.” He hung up.
Tuesday night we went home teaching. I found out later he had called the elders quorum president after I had left his house that Sunday to get the names and phone numbers of the families we were assigned. He then called the families and made appointments.
That became our routine. On the third Sunday I would stop by his house, and then he would set up appointments. We rarely, if ever, missed anyone in the two years we were companions. We also became pretty good friends. Brother Johnson even came to church a couple of times. He said he just wanted to see the quorum president faint.
I learned two very important lessons. First, an Aaronic Priesthood holder can have a positive influence on home teaching. Second, a less-active brother can be the most active home teacher.
As a home teacher, Brother Johnson taught me a lot.

“One of many little romances—the night before we left, my true lover, Henry Ridgley, came to bid me farewell, and under our trysting tree (a big tree close by) we each vowed eternal constancy—for four years at least. At the end of that time he would be of age, and then he would come to claim me for his own, even if I was at the end of the earth. Well, he did come to see me, but it was forty years after instead of four years. He had a wife and three children. I had a husband and was the mother of thirteen children. …”

I had been tidying my house, but I couldn’t even vacuum the floors and dust my furniture, because I had so much clutter laying around. God’s house is a house of order (D&C 132:8), and I needed to make mine that way too. A wonderful thing happened to me in the process of tidying my house – I found some “hidden” treasures. Most of us are familiar with the story in the New Testament about looking for a lost coin (Luke 15:8-10). Today, I was looking for my original birth certificate that I needed for applying for a free bus pass.
In the process of looking I found lots of other surprises, but unfortunately, I couldn’t find my birth certificate. I knew that I had originally put it into the top drawer of my filing cabinet in a light brown money belt; but I couldn’t find it anywhere. Then I looked through all the other file cabinet drawers, to no avail. The other drawers were filled with old bank statements, car repair bills, pay-cheques, house and car insurance documents, etc., but there was no birth certificate to be found anywhere.
Finally, after spending an hour searching, I prayed for help from Heavenly Father to find the lost document. I felt (through the Holy Ghost) that my birth certificate was indeed in the top drawer of my filing cabinet. So, I went back to the drawer and looked through all the piles of papers again. Imagine my surprise when I got down to the very bottom of the drawer and found my birth certificate in a blue pouch. That was when I remembered that I had changed where I stored my birth certificate about two years ago. I’m so glad that the Holy Ghost remembered where my birth certificate was.

With the help of my mother and sister, I painted a banner for the Relief Society sports festival held in our stake. My mother recommended me to the Relief Society president, who asked me to make their banner for them. I accepted their request and started to make rough sketches. Through the combined efforts of my family and me, we were able to create a beautiful work of art that represents the theme, “Find Nobility in Motherhood and Joy in Womanhood.”

Sometimes, it’s difficult to find the time to talk. If that’s the case, try some creative approaches. One young missionary told me, “I always wanted to talk to my mom. Oh, we talked about lots of things but never about anything serious or personal. We had a good relationship—we got along well—but we never really talked.
“There was so much that I wanted to tell her, so many questions I wanted to ask her before I went on my mission, but I just couldn’t do it.
“So I wrote her a letter, a long letter, and left it on her dresser. That really opened things up for us, and we had a couple of great talks before I left.”

A few weeks ago, I was in Santiago, Chile, participating in priesthood training meetings. In the Saturday meeting, we had a discussion about the importance of brethren receiving the priesthood after baptism. Early Sunday morning I was awakened with a moving testimony of the power of the priesthood in our lives. For a few hours before dawn, I reflected and pondered upon what the priesthood means to me, to my family, and to all the world.
Since those early-morning hours in Santiago, I have reflected and pondered much upon the priesthood and what it means to all the world. Let me share my deepest feelings in a sonnet testimony of the blessings of the priesthood.

When I was a boy I used to walk in a nearby cemetery with my Grandpa Ahlander. I learned to love those walks and to appreciate the special feelings I felt there. Yet I really did not understand why I felt as I did.
Not long ago I walked alone along the banks of the Susquehanna River in Pennsylvania, where on a beautiful spring morning in 1829 John the Baptist appeared to Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery and restored the Aaronic Priesthood. As I pondered that event, I felt once again that I was on holy ground. Over the years I have felt a similar link with eternity as I have visited battlefields and other sacred places across the world.
In each of these places, it seemed that the veil between mortality and eternity was very thin. In each was the lingering reassurance that life does not begin with the cry of a baby or end with mortal death, but it continues on.
Today I again stood on holy ground in one of God’s holy temples, and once again the feelings of eternity were very near. I had the same feeling as I entered temples recently in Finland, Switzerland, Hong Kong, and Costa Rica. Each temple is a sacred haven, a sanctuary from the storm of the world, a place of peace where we can participate in sacred ordinances for ourselves and others and personally be strengthened and prepared to stand for truth and righteousness.

Please don’t consider suicide. Two months ago, my best friend killed herself. I cannot even begin to tell you the pain this has caused her family and her friends. My life will never be the same. I loved her with all my heart. Until you find out your own true worth, you might have to live for your family. There is a reason for you to be here, and someday God will prove that to you.
Name withheld

In 2006 I was taking an anthropology class at a Catholic college. Our teacher assigned us to conduct research about a particular religion and present it to the rest of the class. I chose to make my presentation about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—after all, I had been a member for 21 years. I knew this would be a rare and marvelous opportunity to share what I believed with 40 colleagues and friends.
During the two months I had to prepare my presentation, I struggled to find a simple way to present the doctrines I hold dear in a way that my classmates would understand. I wasn’t sure what points I should make or how I should make them. When my presentation was a week away, I still didn’t know what to do. In desperation, I prayed and asked for the Lord’s help.
My answer came in the form of general conference, which was held that weekend. During the April 2006 conference, President James E. Faust (1920–2007), Second Counselor in the First Presidency, gave a talk titled “The Restoration of All Things.”1 I felt the Holy Ghost confirm that the truths President Faust shared—and the way he shared them—were a pattern I could follow in giving my presentation.
I downloaded a copy of the talk from the Internet following conference and used it as the basis for preparing a slideshow presentation, which I delivered the next week. I had been allotted 20 minutes, but because of all the questions my teacher and classmates posed, the presentation lasted 40 minutes—the entire duration of the class.
When I finished, our teacher pointed out that none of his students had ever made such a good presentation. He gave me a high grade and told me that the only reason I didn’t get a perfect score on my presentation was because I hadn’t shown impartiality to the theme.
I later shared with the teacher the Liahona web page, where he could find President Faust’s talk and others he might find helpful. I also gave him a copy of the Book of Mormon and asked him to read it, inviting him to talk with me afterward.
I was grateful to learn that the presentation had influenced some of the students as well. Throughout the rest of the year, I saw evidence of the difference it had made in their lives. One of them even received the missionaries in his home, which gave us a great opportunity to continue our conversation about the gospel of Jesus Christ.
I am grateful for the opportunity I had to share my beliefs with my classmates. But more important, I am grateful that I came to learn that the Lord answers our heartfelt prayers through the words of modern prophets and apostles.

We were filming a Book of Mormon scene about the Savior’s appearance in the land Bountiful. That same day, my brother lay in a hospital bed dying of cancer while my first grandchild struggled with a life-threatening birth defect. As the actor portraying Jesus Christ descended from heaven, I knew that the Savior was the answer to my trials.
The rest of the story

In my father’s personal history, he tells about Grandmother’s experiences growing up in Brigham City, Utah, in the late 1800s. Their family was very poor, having emigrated from Denmark with little more than the clothes on their backs. She wanted so much to have a pair of shoes she could wear on special occasions. To accomplish this worthy desire took a full summer’s work of picking berries and tending children, since money was very scarce and labor was cheap. But the joy Grandmother felt as she obtained those shoes is indescribable, for not only was she able to wear them, but her mother did also. In fact, they had it arranged so Grandmother would wear the shoes to Sunday School in the morning, and then her mother would wear them to sacrament meeting in the evening.

1 Whoa! I’ll get sent down to the minors if you keep pounding my famous fast ball.
2 Dad, Sister Simon told us that Jesus blessed people who couldn’t walk, and they stood up and walked. You gave me a blessing after my accident. How come I wasn’t healed?
I don’t know why, Sweetheart. Heavenly Father could raise up everyone out of every wheelchair, but he has chosen not to. What I do know is that he loves you and will do what’s best for you.
3 But being healed, would be best for me. What could be wrong with running and jumping and being free of this chair?
I don’t know. But tell me—haven’t you gained anything from being in that chair?
4 Well, I guess my arms are stronger.
And so is your spirit. You’ve become a very brave young lady, and I’ve watched you develop great love and kindness for other people with problems. Would you really want to give up everything you’ve learned?
5 I guess not, but I really want to walk again.
You will, Cathlyn. Because of the resurrection, you’ll have a perfect body again someday, and you’ll also get to keep everything you’ve learned from being in this chair. I know it’s a long time to wait, but Heavenly Father will help you.
6 And in the meantime, I can already hit your famous fast ball.
True, but I’ve been working on a mystery curve.
I like solving mysteries.

I am a mother with two wonderful children and a supportive husband. In this world of uncertainties, the Liahona is indeed our family’s modern compass. As we read the First Presidency Message and other inspiring articles in our family home evenings, an added measure of the Spirit of the Lord comes into our home. We feel the power of the Atonement of our Savior, Jesus Christ, and find comfort and peace.
Crisanta Estayo Padilla, Philippines

Have you ever said something to a sibling or friend that you regret? Or laughed at a joke that wasn’t kind or clean? Or maybe kept watching a movie a little longer than you knew you should have?
Later, the situation pops into your head. You feel guilty about it, so you kneel to talk to God about the mistakes you’ve made, asking for forgiveness and then feeling God’s love.

My first few months as a member of the Church were rough ones—especially for my friends. On one hand, I was excited about what I had found, especially the inner peace and the joy I felt in my close relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
On the other hand, in my excitement to share my new understanding of the restored gospel and its teachings, I started to regularly tell my non-LDS friends when they did something I thought was wrong.
Of course I was about as subtle as an elephant on a charge.
One evening in the early summer, I finally realized how judgmental and self-righteous I had become. About five months after my baptism, I went to an outdoor concert with a good friend. As we walked around the grounds trying to find a spot to eat our picnic before the concert began, I noticed many of the people around us had brought wine to drink with dinner. Not one to pass up an opportunity to show how much wisdom I had acquired by a member of the Church, I hissed to my friend “Look at all those people drinking wine—that’s disgusting!”
My kind and patient friend turned to me and said, “I’m sure that when Jewish people go into a restaurant, they don’t walk around and criticize everyone with ham on their plates.”
I finally had the good sense to be silent for a while and ponder what he said. I realized that in all the lessons I had been taught, there had been no mention of members going forth and judging their neighbors. As a matter of fact, the terms “example” and “loving our neighbors” had been used a lot.
Embarrassed, I thanked my friend for his wisdom and apologized for my lack of consideration.
I am happy to report that his message came through loud and clear. I stopped demanding changes from my friends and started demanding changes from myself. I still stand strong for the things I believe in, but I do it in a polite way—a way that, happily, has helped my friends feel comfortable in talking to me about the Church.

Ninth, charitable service helps us do as the Savior did, for was not His whole ministry one of reaching out and helping, lifting and blessing, loving and caring? Jesus declares, “I am among you as he that serveth” (Luke 22:27), and again, “For I will raise up unto myself a pure people, that will serve me in righteousness” (D&C 100:16). There are good people everywhere giving charitable service. Once, when we were visiting our missionaries and members in Nigeria, our vehicle broke down on a lonely road. Finally a car approached, and two young Nigerians got out. “The Lord told us to stop and help you,” they said. Help us they did, for they knew what the Lord would have them do. And so it should be with us.