Gospel Story Finder

One example of this process concerns the law of the fast. My parents were very supportive as I shared with them the details of my newly developing faith. My mother, however, became really concerned when I discussed with her my desire to participate in a 24-hour fast. She was shocked, not being able to accept that such a proposal was appropriate. She was adamant, saying she would not allow me to fast while in her home, fearing it would be detrimental to my health.
It was with a feeling of relief that I reported my mother’s objections to my member missionary, Pamela, informing her that unfortunately I would not be able to participate in the fast. Without hesitation, she responded, “We can easily take care of that. I’ll arrange with my parents for you to stay at our home for the weekend so you can fast with us.”
This was my introduction to the law of the fast. As I continued to observe this law each fast day, I gradually gained a testimony of the principle of fasting.

First is a story about my son, Michael, who did something wrong when he was six or seven years old. He’s my only son, and I’m hard on him. I want him to be better than his dad was, even as a boy, and so I lean on him and expect a great deal. Well, he had done something I thought was incredibly vile, and I let him know how terrible it was. I sent him to his room with the instructions, “Don’t you dare come out until I come and get you.”

And then I forgot. It was some hours later, as I was watching television, that I heard his door open and heard the tentative footsteps coming down the hall. I said, “Oh, my gosh,” and ran to my end of the hall to see him standing with swollen eyes and tears on his cheeks at the other end. He looked up at me—he wasn’t quite sure he should have come out—and said, “Dad, can’t we ever be friends again?” Well, I melted, ran to him, and hugged him. He’s my boy, and I love him.

Like Michael, we all do things that disappoint our Father, that separate us from his presence and spirit. There are times when we get sent to our rooms spiritually. There are sins that maim; there are sins that wound our spirits. Some of you know what it is like to do something that makes you feel as if you just drank raw sewage. You can wash, but you can never get clean. When that happens, sometimes we ask the Lord as we lift up our eyes, “O Father, can’t we ever be friends again?”

The answer that can be found in all the scriptures is a resounding “Yes, through the Atonement of Christ.”

Even though I was baptized when I was eight years old, I didn’t always do the right things. When I was a teenager, I started hanging out with a group of guys, and we started getting into things I knew weren’t good.
After my sister got married, she helped me come back to the Church. I learned about the importance of the Word of Wisdom and treating my body well.
But one day, I committed another serious sin. I felt that I couldn’t have the Spirit or the power of the priesthood with me. I felt very worthless and didn’t think I’d be able to complete my responsibilities at church, like blessing and passing the sacrament.
But the gospel taught me that we can always repent. It was hard to go see my bishop and confess my sin. It was hard to know people could see me walk into the bishop’s office. But I wanted the Lord’s peace, and I wanted to repent.
My bishop said a prayer with me and told me that the Lord is always merciful to those who seek to repent and that I’d be able to recover from my mistake. I’ve now started reading the scriptures and praying, and I know it helps me resist temptation.

Bishop Keo
David Keo was the bishop of my late teen-aged years. He was quite formidable. He came to our house one Saturday morning to see me. Mom let him in and he knocked on my bedroom door. He said, “Boy, this is Bishop.” I opened the door and he motioned for me to come and sit at the dining room table. When I sat down, he said, “You are going on a mission. This Sunday you will start your paperwork. I will sustain you as the 2nd Counselor in the Young Men’s Presidency and an Assistant Scout Master to Larry Nihipali. You will also be the Deacon’s Quorum advisor. Any questions?”
I said, “No.” And so, it was. And so, I served, in the Ward, and in The Santa Rosa California Mission; the best mission in the world.
Would I have served a mission if Bishop Keo hadn’t come to the house? At that stage in my educational life, maybe, maybe not.
Did I understand what I was getting into by accepting those callings? At that stage in my educational life, No, but I learned quickly that I had to be an example to those 12-year-olds and oddly enough, it kept me in line upon line, upon line, upon line, until I learned.

A family had been taking pictures on a lookout point of the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. They heard screams and ran to find that a two-year-old girl had fallen through a railing to a ledge about 35 feet (11 m) below. The little one tried to climb back up, but her movements caused her to slip even farther until she was 5 feet (1.5 m) from a dangerous 200-foot (61-m) drop.
A 19-year-old young man named Ian saw where she was and, using his emergency-response training, knew how to handle the situation. These are his words: “‘Immediately, it all came at me, and I just knew what I had to do. I set down my camera and went up the trail a little ways where it wasn’t as steep, climbed over the rail, scrambled down a bunch of rocks and through brush, and found her.’ Holding her in his arms for an hour, Ian waited until emergency teams could drop down with ropes [to rescue them]” (in Patricia Auxier, “Save Her!” New Era, Sept. 2007, 6). The phrase “holding her in his arms” caught my attention because the scriptures talk about arms—arms of love, arms of mercy, and arms of safety (see 2 Nephi 1:15; Mosiah 16:12; Alma 5:33; D&C 6:20; 29:1).

Years ago, before a temple was completed in South Africa, the Saints planning to visit a temple had to travel the long and costly route to London, England, or, later, to São Paulo, Brazil. When I visited South Africa, they, with all the strength of their hearts and souls, petitioned me to importune President Kimball to seek the heavenly inspiration to erect a temple in their country. I assured them this was a matter for the Lord and His prophet. They responded, “We have faith in you, Brother Monson. Please help us.”
Upon returning to Salt Lake City, I discovered that a proposed temple for South Africa had already been approved and was to be announced immediately. When this occurred, I received a telegram from our members in South Africa. It read, “Thank you, Elder Monson. We knew you could do it!” You know, I believe I never did convince them that though I approved of the proposal, I did not bring it about.

The presence of those who hold the Aaronic Priesthood brings to mind my own experiences as I graduated from Primary, having memorized the Articles of Faith, and then received the Aaronic Priesthood and the office and calling of a deacon. To pass the sacrament was a privilege, and to gather fast offerings a sacred trust. I was set apart as the secretary of the deacons quorum and, at that moment, felt that boyhood had passed and young manhood had begun.
Can you young men realize the shock I felt, while attending an officers’ meeting of our ward conference, when a member of the stake presidency, after calling upon the priesthood and auxiliary leaders to speak, without warning read my name and office, inviting me to give an account of my stewardship and to express my feelings regarding my calling as secretary of the deacons quorum and thus a ward officer. I don’t recall what I said, but a sense of responsibility engulfed me, never to depart thereafter.

The only thing Jenny wanted in the whole wide world was a horse of her very own. Mr. Bonner, whose backyard connected with her own, had a pair of Morgan horses, the very breed Jenny wanted. Jenny visited Mr. Bonner every chance she had, helping him feed and groom the two horses. Their bodies were smooth and glossy after they had been brushed and curried.
Jenny sat on the porch steps, her elbows on her knees, chin cupped in the palm of her hands as she gazed across the yard and fence at the Morgans lazily munching the grass.
The screen door snapped shut behind her, and her mother sat down beside her, still wiping her hands on a dish towel.
“Pretty, aren’t they?”
“Mom, can’t I have a horse? I promise I’ll take care of it.”
“Jenny, we’ve been over this a hundred times. You know why you can’t.”
Yes, Jenny knew the reasons. For one thing, they didn’t have a large yard, not to mention a barn or lean-to to shelter a horse against the harsh North Dakota winters. Nor did they have the extra money it would take to feed a horse and care for it.
“I wish you could have a horse, Jenny,” Mother said later, as she returned to the kitchen.
Knowing that it was close to feeding time, Jenny got up, brushed a hand across the seat of her jeans, climbed over the fence, and sauntered over to the Bonner barn.
Mr. Bonner was already at work, scooping grain out of the wooden bin into two separate pails. “I wondered if I was going to see my favorite girl today.”
Jenny grinned. Mr. Bonner always called her his favorite girl. She grabbed a pitchfork and started cleaning a stall.
“So what’s my girl been doing on this gorgeous summer day?”
Jenny shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing much.”
“Anxious for school to start? How many more days left?”
Jenny laughed out loud. It was a game he played with her every year. He knew exactly how many more days were left—he was the school’s principal.
“Fifteen.”
“Is that all?” Mr. Bonner said, appearing shocked. “I guess I’ll have to get busy, or we won’t be able to open the school on time.”
Jenny knew better. She had seen workers at the school painting and cleaning whenever she accompanied her mother to town. School would start on time, as always.
In a more serious voice he said, “Jenny, I have a favor to ask. I’ve already talked to your mother about it, and she said that it was up to you.”
Jenny’s heart thudded wildly in her chest. For Mr. Bonner to get her mother’s permission, it must be something big.
“I have to go away for ten days on school business. I leave tomorrow. Would you take care of the Morgans while I’m gone?”
“Really? Honest? All by myself? With no one helping me? Wow! Oh yes! When do I start?”
Mr. Bonner laughed. “Tomorrow—if you’re sure you can handle the job.”
“Oh, I know I can. I’ve helped you feed them, brush them, clean the barn, put them out to pasture for … for … well, for years!”
Mr. Bonner nodded. “I know. That’s why I’m asking you now. I think that you love these two old horses as much as I do.”
“Oh, I do!”
“OK then. It’s a deal,” he said, sticking out his hand.
Early the next morning Jenny stood in Mr. Bonner’s driveway and waved as Mr. Bonner drove away. Then she turned toward the barn to start her first day of chores all by herself.
She had fun the first few days, spending much of her time tending the horses. By the fifth day, however, the charm had worn off. Taking care of these horses is hard work, Jenny decided. The hay was heavy to move and scratched her legs when she wore shorts. Cleaning the stalls was dirty, smelly work, especially on those two days when the temperature rose to ninety-five degrees.
The sixth day Jenny had to turn down an invitation to see a movie with her friend Rebecca because the outing interfered with her stable chores.
On the seventh day she overslept. One of the horses, unhappy with his late breakfast, stepped on her foot. Jenny was sure that he did it on purpose. Limping home, she wondered why she had agreed to do the work.
It rained on the eighth and ninth days, turning the barnyard into a thick, slimy sea of mud. As she was dumping the wheelbarrow after her chores were done, Jenny slipped and fell into the muck.
The tenth day finally arrived, the day Mr. Bonner was to return home. It was midday, and Jenny was sitting on the steps once again. The Morgans were in the pasture.
All they do is eat, Jenny thought, watching them. If I’m not feeding them, I’m cleaning up after them. And by the time I’m finished, I’m either too tired or too hungry to stop and play with them.
“They’re always pretty to look at, aren’t they?” Mom said, returning from the garden with a basketful of vegetables. “You’ve taken excellent care of them. Their coats look shiny and soft.”
“Yeah,” Jenny mumbled. Her arms ached all over again as she thought about their tall backs and even taller necks and about how difficult it was for her to brush their heads.
“They look well fed, too,” her mother added.
“They should,” Jenny said. “All they do is eat.”
Her mother laughed. “Animals have a way of doing that. So,” she said, a more serious look on her face. “I bet taking care of those two made you want a horse of your own even more.”
“Oh, I do. But not right now,” Jenny said, surprising both her mother and herself.
“Oh?”
“I love horses, and I want to own one someday, but not right now. They take up so much time that I haven’t been able to enjoy them all week. What’s the use in having something if you can’t enjoy it?”
Jenny received a squeeze from her mother and a kiss on the forehead. “You know, I’m really proud of you. It takes courage and honesty to understand things like that.”
Jenny smiled back at her mother. She was proud of herself too. Someday she would have her very own Morgans—but not right now.

Many years ago I was visiting London with my family. We stayed at a hotel in Sloane Square. There is a statue of Sir Hans Sloane in the center of the square. As a young man in the mid 1600s, Hans Sloane became a physician and then developed a strong interest in botany. The 17th century physician used herbal remedies. Prescriptions were primarily herbal and not based on chemistry as they are today.

In 1687 Sloane accompanied the Duke of Albemarle to Jamaica as his personal physician. He catalogued the flora and fauna of Jamaica and identified about 800 new species of plants. He collected specimens of animals as well and pickled them or embalmed them. During their stay, Lord Albemarle died; it necessitated Sloane returning to London. Sloane pickled the body of Lord Albemarle so Lord Albemarle could be buried in England. Upon Sloane’s return, he wrote an extensive two volume natural history of Jamaica.[20]

In Jamaica Sloane had noticed that the people drank cocoa which he found “nauseous.” Sloane experimented with making medicines acceptable to children by mixing them with milk and honey. He mixed the cocoa with milk and sugar and found that it was delicious. Sloane became very wealthy when he sold his recipe to Cadbury Brothers who manufactured chocolate using Sloane’s recipe.[21]

What is perhaps most interesting to me is that Sloane used most of that money to collect botanical and other specimens that he had become so intrigued with as a young physician. He bought people’s collected specimens from all over the world and he put together an enormous collection. When he died, he donated it to the British nation. That was the beginning of the British Museum.

The foundation collection of the natural history part of the entire British Museum came because of the great desire for knowledge of that incredible man, Hans Sloane.

When I returned home I felt much different inside. I was beginning to feel hope and was learning to pray for guidance and forgiveness. True repentance didn’t take place overnight; it took many months before I felt I had been forgiven. I made a decision to start attending church again, the most difficult part of which was finding the courage to actually walk to the doors and go in.
I become overwhelmed as I think of the meaning of the Savior’s Atonement: “Oh, it is wonderful that he should care for me enough to die for me!” (“I Stand All Amazed,” Hymns, number 193). It is also wonderful that two sister missionaries came into my life when they did and shared with me their love and example. I was filled with joy to have one of them be my escort when I finally attended the temple to receive my endowment.
Following years of wandering, I had come home at last.

One son bought a small home in a distant state. He showed me bricks on a corner of the foundation that were eroding away. He asked what should he do.
I did not know, but I asked, “Is there an older couple that lives close to you?”
“Yes,” he said, “across the street and down a few houses is a retired couple.”
“Why don’t you ask him to come over and look at that. He knows your climate.”
That was done, and he got the advice of an older man who had seen problems like that and many others. That is what adopted grandpas can do.

Marisol Pedraza Espinosa, now Sister Pedraza, was 26 years old when she received a life-altering diagnosis of ovarian cancer. A young woman from Tizayuca, Hidalgo, Mexico, she dreamt of completing a master’s degree in tourism business management and starting her own travel agency. However, her aspirations were put on hold when she experienced severe pain in her right ovary, leading to a medical consultation that revealed a 15-centimeter tumor requiring immediate removal.
After undergoing various tests and surgery to remove the tumor, she thought the worst was over. Unfortunately, that was not the case. “Twenty days after the surgery, when I received the pathology results, the doctor informed me that the tumor was malignant—a high-grade cancer with only one year left to live,” she says with tears in her eyes.
The bleak prognosis sent Sister Pedraza searching for a second opinion at several hospitals, only to receive even worse news. “They told me that during the tumor removal, there was a problem, and the cancer had metastasized. They had to perform another surgery to remove my right ovary and uterus, so I underwent many additional tests before the new surgery.”
Confused, devastated, and terrified by this new reality, Sister Pedraza was on the verge of losing hope. She thought, “Why me? No one in my family has ever had cancer. I’m too young to die, and I won’t be able to have children anymore!’”
During this difficult time, her family’s unwavering support became her refuge. “My mother accompanied me to all my medical appointments, and my brothers and father kept an eye on me.”
In the midst of her struggle, Sister Pedraza’s life took an unexpected turn when she met Keyth Suderio, a former missionary. Keyth taught her that through the priesthood in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, she could receive a blessing of health. Although she wasn’t entirely clear about what they were offering, she was willing to try anything to regain her health.
“Sidney Suderio, Keyth’s dad, gave me the blessing; his wife, Rosangela Ribeiro, and daughter, Keyth Suderio were there. I sat in the middle of the room, he placed his hands on my head, and I felt so much peace. As I listened to every word that came out of his mouth… I felt hopeful that everything was going to be okay,” she says.
A few days later, as she prepared for her upcoming surgery, the gynecological oncologist delivered astonishing news: her medical tests had shown no signs of cancer in her body. Overwhelmed by the good news, Sister Pedraza cried with gratitude when she saw the miracle that was happening in her life.
It’s been two years since Sister Pedraza has been cancer-free. Seeing God’s hand in her life made her interested in learning about the Church and she joined a year and six months ago. “I wanted to thank God for a new life and decided to get closer to Him and to serve Him,” she says with great emotion.
“It wasn’t in my plans to become a missionary; however, I felt a strong impression to leave everything behind and go out and invite people to come unto Christ. To let them know that Heavenly Father loves all of us and to share my testimony that miracles do not cease. I want to help people strengthen their faith and remind them that we have a loving Heavenly Father who wants the best for us.”
That’s how she came to serve in the Dominican Republic Santo Domingo West Mission.
“I know that Jesus Christ lives, I know that He healed me, and I know, without any doubt, that through the blessing of health that I received by priesthood power, the cancer disappeared. I know that my Heavenly Father loves me and gave me a new chance to live,” she concludes, with a twinkle in her eyes and strength in her words.

Last year, standing in the wings behind the curtain moments before a magnificently inspiring young artists’ music festival, I witnessed a performance that touched my heart—maybe even more than the performance on stage, certainly as much. A prayer had been offered in behalf of each of the young performers that their hard weeks—yes, even years of conscientious preparation—might be drawn from at this moment to ensure a masterful performance. Eyes were moist; hearts were touched as the strength and unity of family members lent confidence and encouragement to each performer. At that moment, a father, appearing proud and grateful, quickly leaned forward, gave his beautiful young daughter a tender kiss on the cheek, and whispered, “You’re ready, my dear.” And her next step was on stage, alone—a solo flight.
Oh, that our preparation at each step in our lives might be such that, as we approach that hour of challenge (and there are many), we might have that quiet whispering of the Spirit in our ears: “You’re ready, my dear.”

As a young boy of about eleven years old my father came home from his job one day and reported that the company he had been working for over the past 13 years was about to close down. He would have to find new employment. There were some concerns and challenges which tested our family’s belief and faith. Because of his early induction into the army and World War II my father neither had not completed high school nor had he worked for any other company leaving his resume wanting. I remember my father calling our family together to discuss our situation and then leading us in fasting and prayer. It can be said that my brothers and sisters and I did not exercise faith at that time, but we acted in agreement and acceptance of what my parents were telling us and what they were doing. Within a day of our family fast and prayer a new and better position was offered to my father and my belief increased to a faith in the principles of fasting and prayer.

When I was little, I lived in Zwickau, Germany. My grandmother had a friend with white, flowing hair. Her name was Sister Ewig, and she invited my grandmother to church. When our family went there, we saw many children. All of us were very impressed by the families, the children, and the music, especially the singing. I felt at home right away. My whole family—except me, because I was only six years old—were baptized members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When I was eight, I was baptized in a public swimming pool by my father.

My husband, John, was a big man. He stood six feet four inches (1.9 m) tall and weighed more than 200 pounds (90.9 kg). For him, air travel in economy class was uncomfortable at best, painful at worst.
In August 2006 we were called to serve a Church educational service mission at Brigham Young University–Hawaii. When it came time to return home, we were dreading what he would have to endure in the flight back to the mainland. During check-in we were delighted to find that there was one seat available in first class, so we upgraded his ticket. He would be able to sit in a comfortable seat with plenty of room for his long legs.
About midway through the flight, I decided to go see how he was doing. As I approached the first-class area, a flight attendant stood in the doorway to stop me.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Yes, I would like to see my husband for a moment,” I replied.
“I’m sorry,” she said pleasantly but firmly, “you can’t come up here.”
“But he’s my husband, and I just want to see him for a minute.”
Still barring the door, she again stated, “I’m sorry, but you are not allowed up here. I can give your husband a message, and if he would like to, he can come visit you. But the policy is that only first-class passengers can be in this area.”
I was taken aback for a moment, but seeing her persistence, I quietly returned to my seat in economy class.
I began to think about the three degrees of glory mentioned in the scriptures and by the prophets. We read that Christ will visit those in the terrestrial kingdom (see D&C 76:77), and administering angels will visit those in the telestial kingdom (see D&C 76:88), but those who are in the lesser kingdoms can never go up to the celestial kingdom (see D&C 76:112; see also D&C 88:22–24). Reflecting upon my experience, I felt that I just had a glimpse of what it might be like for those in the lower kingdoms. How would they feel upon hearing the words “I’m sorry, you can’t come up here”?
About five months later my husband passed away from cancer. My experience on the airplane gives me extra incentive to live so that I never have to hear those words again—at least not on the other side of the veil.

After high school graduation David couldn’t wait to turn 19 and send in his mission papers. His doctor attached a note verifying he was totally independent.
But it was not to be. Instead of a calling, David’s letter informed him he could not serve a full-time proselyting mission.
“I was crushed,” says David. “I had worked so hard, and it seemed it was all taken away from me in just a matter of seconds.” But David didn’t quit. In an interview at Church headquarters, he was assured there was a mission for him.
One week later he was called to serve a welfare mission at the Deseret Industries (D.I.) in St. George, Utah, while living at home with his parents. David was not prepared for such a call. “To tell the truth, I was disappointed again,” he says. But he kept thinking of the words to a Primary song: “I will go; I will do” (“Nephi’s Courage,” Children’s Songbook, 120–21). He realized the Lord wanted him to serve at Deseret Industries, a Church-owned thrift store and job-training facility. At D.I. David would help those who were working to gain and improve their job skills.
“I look back now and think how foolish I was. I had no clue what a blessing this mission would be,” David says.
Not only has David been blessed, but his sense of humor and positive attitude touched more than 250 people he worked with through D.I.’s self-sufficiency and missionary programs. “Whenever we were having a bad day, we would just come and find Elder Eves,” says Debbie Kelly, a trainee. “When we saw how happy and positive he was, even in a wheelchair, we would ask ourselves, ‘What are we complaining about?’”

It was a big assignment, and I had received an A+. My teacher explained that this assignment had the power to change our overall grade in the class. At the time, I had no worries. After all, I had passed with flying colors.
However, when my teacher told us that six students had received zeros on the assignment for plagiarizing, my sense of ease melted away. Not only had I plagiarized, but I had also received a perfect score for it.
At first my guilt was small. But then I read Doctrine and Covenants 1:31 and 3:10, and I felt the pain sink deeper and deeper: “For I the Lord cannot look upon sin with the least degree of allowance. … But remember, God is merciful; therefore, repent of that which thou hast done which is contrary to the commandment which I gave you.”
It was then that I felt the utmost shame for my sin, but I rejoiced over the fact that I could repent. I promised myself that I would e-mail my teacher the very next day.
But I didn’t. I thought that repentance could wait in my busy life. I put off e-mailing my teacher for three days. Satan worked hard on me for those three days, telling me that my grade was more important. I almost gave in to the temptation, but I prayed to the Lord for courage.
I finally sent the e-mail. My teacher replied and emphasized that honesty is more important than my grade and that I had wonderful parents who taught me what is right. She also said she would change my grade.
As I read the e-mail, I cried. Not for my grade, but because I had earned my teacher’s trust. By being honest, I know that I will also gain the trust of my Heavenly Father.

A 19-year-old unwed mother, whom we’ll call Charlotte, recently placed her baby girl for adoption through LDS Family Services. She shared her difficult experience with the New Era. Charlotte realizes that her violation of the law of chastity has complicated her life. But she has taken the necessary steps to receive, through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, forgiveness and healing of spirit. This article focuses on her adoption decision, not on the process of her repentance.
I can still remember the day I found out I was pregnant. I was filled with dread and shock and fear. When I told my boyfriend the test was positive, we both sat in silence for a long time.
He finally hugged me, but I was too shocked to cry. I remember saying, “So what’s next? Should we get married?”
He was just as shocked as I was. He asked me if there were any other options besides marriage. I was upset by that because I assumed he was referring to abortion, which was out of the question.
A few days after I found out I was pregnant, I decided to tell my mom. It was a Sunday night, and we were lying down in the family room, tired after a long weekend of moving. Suddenly I said, “Mom, I need to tell you something.”
She asked, “What?”
I hesitated, then said, “I’m pregnant.”
She didn’t cry at first, but after we started talking, she started to cry but stayed calm enough for us to talk. I had been afraid she would be upset, but she was loving and supportive.
My mom later told my dad, and he came into my room and hugged me and offered his love and support. Just weeks before I found out I was pregnant, he had given me a birthday card in which he wrote that he was proud of me. I remember reading that card and being sad at the thought of disappointing him.
As the days passed, Charlotte started thinking of her options: to get married, to be a single parent, or to place her baby for adoption. She determined that a successful marriage was not possible for her, so she followed her doctor’s advice to go to LDS Family Services to discuss her options. Charlotte started seeing a counselor there named Kathy (name has been changed).
For a couple of weeks, Kathy and I talked about single parenting. She gave me a lot of articles and worksheets that dealt with the emotional, physical, and financial aspects of raising a child. I knew my parents would help support my baby and me, but it was scary to think, “What if I had to do it on my own?”
We discussed the pros and cons of single parenting. “Where would I live?” “Would the baby be a source of contention between me and my parents?” “Would I work full time?” “What about child care?” and so on.
We discussed how I might have to live with my parents and how girls struggle with that. Young mothers worry about their mothers taking over and being the mother of the child, and that can cause a lot of contention between the two. I also wondered if I would be able to go to college if I were a single mom. I would probably have to work full time, which wouldn’t make it easy to go to school.
Kathy asked me what appealed to me about single parenting. As I thought about it, all my reasons for choosing to be a single parent were selfish. They all boiled down to the fact that I’d have my baby with me. The problem with that is, I knew she wasn’t just mine. My baby was Heavenly Father’s child.
In my next couple of appointments with Kathy, we talked about adoption and how that process works. Finally, after weeks of meeting with Kathy, I felt that I had a good idea of what was involved with adoption and with single parenting.
Being a single parent would be hard, as would placing my baby for adoption. So I prayed about this decision continually. I put off deciding to place my baby for adoption because it was a difficult decision I didn’t want to make right away.
I came to the decision to place my baby for adoption after months of soul searching, deep thought, and lots of prayer. It took me a long time to feel like I had an answer. Even when I knew I had an answer, I sometimes wanted to not follow it. But I knew it was what I needed to do.
One night I was looking at one of my favorite pictures of the Savior. It shows Him with a little boy sitting on His knee looking up at Him. As I looked at that picture I could imagine my own child sitting up in heaven on the Lord’s knee. I realized that my baby would be coming to me straight from God’s arms. I began to realize the worth of the soul I was carrying. It was easy at that moment for me to forget my own cares and concerns and see the bigger picture. I knew I needed to place my baby for adoption, so I began to pray for the strength to be able to do it.
At my next meeting with Kathy, I told her my decision.
After deciding on adoption, Charlotte met with her bishop.
I put off talking to my bishop for a long time because I felt like I needed to know what I was doing and, as silly as this sounds, I felt like I wasn’t worthy to talk to him. It would have been better if I had talked with him months earlier, but my emotions were in turmoil. I was embarrassed about breaking the law of chastity, angry at myself and my boyfriend for the mistake we had made, and resentful about being pregnant. I was confused and just didn’t feel ready to talk with my bishop.
But then, a few months before I was due, my bishop called me in to see him. I took the opportunity to confess, and he heard me with compassion. He also helped confirm that adoption was right for me and my baby. Immediately after talking to him, I asked myself, “Why didn’t I do that earlier?!” Had I talked to him earlier, he would’ve been such a help to me throughout my decision-making and repentance process. Instead, I was punishing myself and holding myself back from receiving revelation through him.
Having decided to place her baby for adoption, Charlotte started looking at profiles of adoptive parents. Adoptive parents give LDS Family Services a collage of family pictures, a letter to the birth parents, and an information sheet about themselves.
After four or five weeks of looking at profiles, I narrowed them down to two families I was considering and praying about. One family seemed fun, an adorable family. But when I read the other family’s letter, I felt the Spirit so strongly. I felt like I knew the adoptive parents before I met them.
I had been praying to know which family to choose. It was hard to get an answer to my prayers. I felt as though the Lord wasn’t going to give me a really strong answer because He wanted me to make the decision. So I did, and I knew it was right because of that spirit I felt when I read the family’s letter.
About a month before I gave birth, I wrote the family a letter saying I had chosen them and wanted them to pray about being the parents of my baby. I got an answer from them in three days. I guess they didn’t need to pray about it as long as I did! They said they knew the decision was right the moment they read my letter.
We met each other a few weeks before I gave birth, and we bonded immediately. At LDS Family Services, my parents and I met the adoptive parents and their six-year-old daughter. We visited for about two hours, talking and getting to know each other. The day after we met each other, they wrote me a letter saying how good they felt about everything. They said it was an answer to their prayers.
After I gave birth to my baby girl, I had a couple days with her to myself. The night before the placement was hard. I was holding the baby, thinking, “How am I going to do this? Will I be able to do this?” I was praying for strength.
The next step was placement, the meeting at LDS Family Services when the birth mother gives the baby to the adoptive parents. Charlotte’s parents and sister came with her, and the adoptive couple’s parents were there too.
The first one to hold my baby was the adoptive family’s six-year-old daughter. I wanted my baby to have a sister, so I thought it was important that she hold her baby sister first. Our families then spent an hour talking, getting acquainted, and taking pictures.
At the end of our visit, I held my baby for the last time and then gave her to her adoptive mom. I felt a sense of relief and knew that I was doing the right thing. I saw love and joy on the parents’ faces. It was great for them to get their baby, but I could see pain in their eyes for me. I knew they could feel my sacrifice. I’ll never forget the look in their eyes as I gave them a hug and left. They were so grateful.
I didn’t really feel sad—until that night, when the shock had passed. That night was the hardest part of the process for me. My thoughts were racing, and I was very emotional. I was wondering if my daughter was eating regularly. In the hospital she didn’t have an appetite. I wondered if she was crying or if she was content.
The next day, Kathy came to my house with a letter and a packet of pictures from the adoptive family. The letter answered all the questions that had been racing through my mind the night before. I felt better immediately.
Six months after Charlotte placed her baby for adoption, she says:
It has been a gradual healing process for me, both spiritually and emotionally. Every week seems to get better. I feel more confidence in my relationship with the Lord, and I’m still getting letters and pictures from the adoptive family. I have gone back to college full time and back to work part time.
Placing my baby for adoption was hard, but I felt it was right. I was guided by the Spirit. It’s amazing how it worked out so well.

I have witnessed how my weakness has helped me to be strong in Christ. For example, while serving as a bishop, I had many opportunities to meet with individuals and counsel with them. Time and time again I felt the Spirit fill my heart and mind with what to say. In these moments, if I had been worried about saying things exactly the right way, with preplanned precision, the flow of the Lord’s Spirit would have been stopped. As I relied on the Lord in my weakness, he “loosed my tongue” and “opened my mouth” at the very moments I needed it.9 Fortunately, through the Lord’s tender mercies, He blessed two people in those interviews: the person seeking inspired counsel and me, that my fears would be softened.