Gospel Story Finder

In many areas, the offerings are collected each month by the boys who are deacons as they visit each member’s home generally quite early on the Sabbath day. I recall that the boys in the congregation over which I presided had assembled one morning, sleepy-eyed, a bit disheveled, and mildly complaining about arising so early to fulfill their assignment. Not a word of reproof was spoken, but during the following week, we escorted the boys to Welfare Square for a guided tour. They saw firsthand a lame person operating the telephone switchboard, an older man stocking shelves, women arranging clothing to be distributed—even a blind person placing labels on cans. Here were individuals earning their sustenance through their contributed labors. A penetrating silence came over the boys as they witnessed how their efforts each month helped to collect the sacred fast offering funds which aided the needy and provided employment for those who otherwise would be idle.

From that hallowed day forward, there was no urging required by our deacons. On fast Sunday mornings they were present at 7:00, dressed in their Sunday best, anxious to do their duty as holders of the Aaronic Priesthood. No longer were they simply distributing and collecting envelopes. They were helping to provide food for the hungry and shelter for the homeless—all after the way of the Lord. Their smiles were more frequent, their pace more eager, their very souls more subdued. Perhaps now they were marching to the beat of a different drummer; perhaps now they better understood the classic passage, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” (Matt. 25:40.)

The Platte River, Nebraska, 1863
“Whoa, there!” Mary pulled back on the reigns, and the oxen slowed. “Everyone all right?” She looked at her three youngest siblings, who rode on the oxen’s backs. They nodded.
The Platte River lay before them, wide and muddy. “What now?” her younger brother Jackson asked. He was only nine, but he was helping Mary drive the oxen. Father lay in the back of the wagon, still sick from his stroke.
“We don’t need to cross the river,” said Mary. “But we can follow it.” There was no road to Zion, but the river should guide them as they headed west. “Giddyap!”
Mary didn’t know that the Mormon pioneers always crossed the Platte River and traveled a different way. By not crossing the river, Mary’s family was entering Indian Territory. They would not see another wagon train for the rest of the long journey.
Weeks later, Mary saw a cloud of dust approaching. “Steady,” she whispered to the oxen and herself. “Steady.”
The dust cleared to show a small group of Indians riding on horses. One of the men rode up to the back of the wagon, where Father was lying.
The man’s eyes were kind. “He is sick?” he asked, pointing to Father.
“Yes,” Mary whispered. The man called out something in his own language, and the Indians all rode off as quickly as they had come.
Mary looked at the sun in the sky. “We’ll stop here,” she told Jackson. She lifted Sarah and the twins down.
“Mary, come look!” Jackson said. The man with the kind eyes was riding back toward them, something heavy in his hands.
“Wild duck,” he said. “And rabbit. For you.” Mary could only stare, speechless, as he dropped the game into her arms. With another nod, he rode off into the twilight.
“Food!” Mary exclaimed. “Meat!” The man’s gift was truly a miracle.
More miracles happened on their journey. A buffalo herd came toward them but then parted around the wagon, going on either side of it. A dust storm carried one of the twins into a river, but Mary was able to save her.
But the journey was still difficult. Every day the wagon looked more worn, and the oxen looked more tired. The ground was steep and rocky. The mountains were hard to cross. But Mary and her family kept plodding forward.
They were just coming down from a tall summit when Mary saw a man driving toward them in a wagon.
“Maybe he can tell us the way to Lehi, Utah!” she said to Jackson. They had an uncle who lived there.
“You’re in Echo Canyon, not far from the Salt Lake Valley,” the man said when she asked where they were. “But where is the rest of your party?”
The whole story came out, and the man listened in amazement. “You’ve traveled over 1,000 miles (1,609 km) all by yourselves?” He shook his head with admiration. “You are one brave girl. Let me tell you the way to Lehi. You’re nearly there.”
“Nearly there,” Mary whispered to herself as the man drew a rough map in the dirt. Nearly to Zion. “I think we might make it, after all.”
Mary and her family made it to Lehi, Utah. She later married and had a large family of her own. Her example of faith and courage has blessed many people.

Elder Soares: I had a brother two years older than me who had a hearing problem. He had a lot of difficulty communicating, and I can remember how I essentially became his companion, helping him to do things and communicate with people. I had to learn to communicate with sign language at church. For example, he once received an assignment to give a talk in church. However, he wasn’t able to speak. But I sat with him, and I, speaking to him with signs, helped him to write a talk. In sacrament meeting, he stood beside me at the pulpit as I read the talk that he prepared.

Sure I had a testimony. Or did I? I prayed, read the scriptures (most days), and went to church, but did I really have a personal testimony of Jesus Christ and the Book of Mormon? These thoughts filled my mind when a stake leader asked me to join some of the other stake youth in a special project.
Project? What kind of project?
I quickly learned that each participant would need to read the Book of Mormon for a month, and then we would all tell about our experiences. It didn’t sound too bad until I learned we would be filmed so the stake leaders could share a video of our testimonies with the youth in each ward.
Every ward in the stake would see this?
I decided being videotaped would be way better than having to talk in front of huge groups of people in each ward. So I agreed. Each day, I curled up cozily to read at least one chapter in the Book of Mormon. As the days whizzed by, I realized I loved this book. The Book of Mormon came alive with new depth and vitality. Near the end of the project, I read Moroni 10:3–5. I wanted to know the truth, and I had faith to receive it.
That night when all was quiet, I knelt to ask God to know if the Book of Mormon is true. As I prayed, I felt encircled by a peaceful warmth. I knew without a doubt that the Book of Mormon is the word of God. This book became as true and as real as the stars I see glistening in the sky. What a powerful testimony this experience became in my life!
The time arrived for the leaders and invited youth to meet together. We came fasting to help bring the Spirit into our meeting. When it was my turn, I rose to speak. My testimony of the Book of Mormon had not come in a sudden burst of light or some other dramatic display. It had arrived more simply. The same peace and warmth I had felt when I prayed about the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon came over me again. I stood and bore testimony of the sacred pages I had read; I knew the Book of Mormon is true.

The Mutual-age youth of the East Liverpool Branch in Ohio were starting to get bored last summer, but instead of taking a nap, they decided to put their heads together and plan a special project. The idea they came up with was an original silent movie, complete with a hero, heroine, two villains, and a poor little fellow named Elmer who is in love with Penelope, the heroine. The Beehives, Mia Maids, and Laurels wrote the script and talked the Aaronic Priesthood members into joining them as performers. The result was a lot of fun, and a movie to show at a dance last fall.

Many years ago in this Tabernacle, I heard Elder Sterling Sill recognize the men who had performed the essential priesthood ordinances listed on his membership record. I suddenly realized that my father’s name did not appear on my record. He had not been active in the Church while I was growing up but had since become a faithful high priest.

Returning home from conference, I brooded about this, feeling deprived. I telephoned my father and said, “Dad, I’d like to ask you a favor. You can do something for me that no other living person can do. I would like a father’s blessing.” He hesitated and said, “Well, we’ll see, the next time you come to Rexburg.”

I persisted. To my knowledge, he had never given a father’s blessing before, and he was nervous. At the age of eighty-four, he placed his quivering hands upon my head. And this son will never forget the supreme joy of hearing a proud father pour out his heart in a blessing—a blessing which will be held sacred and cherished not because of its eloquence but because it came from my father. I hope, brethren, that you will not deny your children this choice experience.

“I started ballet at age seven because I wanted to be a princess,” says Bianca Carnovale, from Sydney, Australia. Soon after she began training, she learned that the dance world does not stop to remember the Sabbath day. She had to decide where she stood.
As a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Bianca strives to keep Sundays free from work and other activities that take her away from worship. Whether it’s sports or performing arts, the decision for Latter-day Saints to set these activities aside on the Sabbath can sometimes be emotionally challenging.
Not wanting to let anyone down, knowing that Sunday pieces would have to be choreographed without her, Bianca also struggled. Her teachers would say, “No company will want you; why would they choose you over someone who will dance on Sunday?”
But Bianca remembers, from as young as seven, talking with her mother about dancing on Sundays. When she had to miss out on exams and performances, those talks helped Bianca understand that pleasing God was more important.
She studied at Marni’s School of Performing Arts until the age of 14, then won a spot in the pre-professional program at the National College of Dance in Newcastle, which was two hours away from home. For the next three years, Bianca lived in Newcastle five days a week, an experience that prepared her to move to New York City, USA on her own.
Although she still never danced on a Sunday, at age 17, Bianca was accepted into New York’s prestigious Ballet Academy East, where she had the exciting opportunity to study the Balanchine ballet method.
It wasn’t always fun. “There were times in New York, away from all my friends and family, I felt I had no one,” Bianca remembers. “Crying one night . . . I remember praying to my Heavenly Father and asking Him for [a hug]. I will never forget the warmth that flooded my chest. Although it made me cry more, they were definitely happy tears, and I did not feel alone anymore.”
After almost two years, the COVID-19 pandemic shut down New York and sent Bianca home, where she had to find a job, but kept up her ballet training. Later, she prayerfully considered a full-time mission, but was prompted to move to Melbourne where she hoped to get into the Australian Ballet Company.
Then the lockdowns started again, and Bianca soon missed performing. She began dancing in the park, just to get outdoors, but then her mother suggested she try ballet busking when the lockdowns ended. At first, Bianca thought the idea was crazy, but when her friends from Church also encouraged it, she gave it a go.
Bianca choreographed dances in her flat, then ventured into the city streets to perform them. “At first, I only had headphones, but started dancing anyway. Then I got speakers. From there, I learned all the tips and tricks of busking: using cones and roping off a stage area . . . perfecting choreography . . . [managing] a crowd. Busking was a whole new world.”
Bianca still dreamed of getting into a ballet company. While busking, she kept training and auditioning. One company that seemed interested in her asked, “Why don’t you . . . perform on Sunday, and then go to church?” With Bianca’s insistence that Sabbath observance was more than just going to church, that opportunity fell through.
“I wanted so much to dance professionally,” Bianca reflects. In her prayers she even told Heavenly Father how inspiring it would be to all the little dancers if she got into a ballet company without working on Sundays. “Looking back, I now laugh at trying to tell Heavenly Father what was best.”
Bianca ponders a lesson taught by Elder D. Todd Christofferson: “We ought not to think of God’s plan as a cosmic vending machine where we (1) select a desired blessing, (2) insert the required sum of good works, and (3) the order is promptly delivered.”1
“I knew Heavenly Father wanted me to dance,” she says. “I knew He wanted me to strive towards getting into a ballet company, but as the years went by it became very apparent that He never promised me I would actually get into one.”
Pursuing her dream to work for a company has made Bianca an exceptionally skilled performer, but as of March 2022, she has supported herself completely on busking—a path that has had unexpected outcomes.
While she was dancing one day, she recalls, “I happened to see the glowing face of a 13-year-old girl . . . I’ve been that girl before, and I know that feeling. I can make people smile and cry; I wouldn’t change that for anything . . . I always wanted to serve others . . . now Heavenly Father has provided me with the opportunity to serve in the most unique way!”
“Getting into a company would be inspiring,” she continues, “but I think it is so much more inspiring that I would keep His commandment.”
President Russell M. Nelson once said, “Obedience brings success; exact obedience brings miracles.”2
Echoing his words, Bianca proclaims: “Heavenly Father has told me, ‘If you keep my commandments, I will show you miracles’.
“Do I trust Him? Yes!”

As I was trying to come to terms with everything, I knew the bishop was being prompted to talk to me about my mission papers. I just knew. I had never mentioned it to anyone, but I knew he was also getting the vibes. But I still needed time to adjust and come to terms with everything, so I started dodging him.
If I saw him in the corridor at Church, I’d dive into a classroom and hide until he passed. I’d watch him and stay out of his vicinity—terrible, but I thought this would gain me more time. But one Sunday I was walking up the corridor only to find the bishop walking towards me. No one else was there. I couldn’t hide or dive away. I was nabbed, pure and simple.
The bishop simply said, “Can you come with me for a minute? I’ve got to give you something”. I was hoping the something was to do with my Primary or activities committee callings, but he walked into the clerk’s office, opened the filing cabinet, and handed me my mission papers. He said, “You need to fill these in, and send them.” I said, “I knew you knew!” When I told him that I had been deliberately dodging and hiding from him, he laughed and said he wondered why he could never find me.

The task of really loving people hasn’t been tried very often in the world of international relations, and it’s rare even in the world of national affairs. But at least one very notable experience comes to mind.

Mahatma Gandhi was the man who led India to independence. Gandhi began to realize that turning the other cheek and doing good for hateful deeds would unloose great powers for his people. One Moslem man came to him, very upset. His son had been killed by the Hindus; in retaliation he had taken the life of a small Hindu boy. Heavy-hearted, he sought relief from Gandhi. And Gandhi told him he could find comfort if he would find an orphaned Hindu boy and raise him as his own—only he was to raise him as a Hindu, not as a Moslem.

There is a sacrificing in love, a sacrificing that brings immortality. Gandhi suffered a great deal, but ultimately millions of people were granted more freedom. Only the assassin’s bullet cut his life short. One wonders what he might have contributed further to the development of the new nation had he lived.

Eugène used to think all churches were pretty much the same. Then the missionaries came to his door and started teaching his family. Gradually he came to understand that the gospel has been restored, and that there’s a great role in it for young men. He was baptized and, when he came of age, ordained a deacon.

“Now, I’m the only Aaronic Priesthood holder in the entire city,” he says matter-of-factly. “There are Melchizedek Priesthood holders, and they help me. But when we have sacrament meeting, I pass the sacrament.”

After holding these home evenings for several months, my wife and I decided to experiment with an unusual activity. One evening we asked our young friends to express the meaning of family home evening in their lives. We provided crayons, paper, scissors, pencils, clay, toys, and other items, and encouraged them to choose whatever media seemed most appropriate. We then turned them loose for approximately forty-five minutes.
What followed was a very enjoyable evening, full of laughter, fond memories, and serious personal reflections. Everyone took a turn reading a poem, showing a picture, describing a drawing, or just talking to a safe audience.
There were two young adults, however, who were very different from the rest. One, a loud, boisterous, rather unpleasant young man whom nobody really liked, wrote a poem, a very sensitive poem, couched in mathematical terminology. Nobody understood it but himself. But we knew that we had provided him with a forum to freely express himself, and we encouraged him to do so. As a result, he felt safe and comfortable. We found out months later that that evening had very possibly been a turning point in preventing his suicide. He had been extremely depressed, and that experience was the first evidence he had found that life was worth living. We learned of those feelings when he called us long-distance from Turkey to say “thank you.” Somehow that made a lot of sacrifice worthwhile.

My father was like that. He was a scientist. He lectured to audiences in countries around the world. Once I read a talk he had given to a large scientific convention. In it he referred to creation and a Creator as he talked about his science. I knew that few, if any, in that audience would have shared his faith. So I said to him with wonder and admiration, “Dad, you bore your testimony.” He looked at me with surprise on his face and said, “Did I?”
He had not even known that he was being brave. He simply said what he knew was true. When he bore testimony, even those who rejected it knew it came not by design but because it was part of him. He was what he was, wherever he was.

Not long ago Elder David Haight of the Council of the Twelve had been assigned to a stake conference in Mexico. As he reached the border, he found that he did not have with him the necessary papers which would allow him to enter the country. In spite of his plea and the urgency of his mission, the officials had no authority to admit him without proper credentials. Therefore, he could not attend the conference.

So it is with our progress in the priesthood. We must be properly recommended and endorsed by those in authority before we can advance from one office to another, and we cannot receive the certification or proof of our advancement without being worthy, or meeting the requirements. It will be so when we want to enter the kingdom of heaven to join with others who have gone before, and live eternally with God, our Father.

A third example involved a visiting professor from a Korean university. He was not LDS when he came here, but he just wanted to come here to take some classes and interact with the faculty. We didn’t recruit him; we didn’t know why he came. One day the elders quorum presidency of the ward where he lived in Provo was walking around the neighborhood, and the elders quorum president felt impressed to knock on the family’s door. The wife came to the door, and they introduced themselves. She told them that they were interested in learning more about the Church. Not long thereafter they were baptized into the Church, and they have since returned to Korea. What a wonderful place to be where we can interact with so many wonderful children of God: faculty and students who may not all share our faith but who share our love for the good in life.

In 2013, my husband and I were called to be mission leaders of the Ecuador Guayaquil West Mission. When President Henry B. Eyring extended the calling to us, we told him that neither of us had served missions when we were young, so we didn’t know anything about how a mission was run.

President Eyring’s counsel stayed with both of us throughout the next three years. He said that the Lord would be with us in the details of our mission if we sought His guidance. Our lack of certainty would teach us to rely on Him.

After we had been in the mission for about nine months, my husband had a very disturbing dream. In it he saw black clouds approaching and many people running and screaming. When he woke up, he told me about the dream, and we wondered if it might have some meaning. But things were so busy that we just kept going with our day-to-day efforts to run the mission and really didn’t think much about the dream after that. However, a month later he had a similar dream, but this time the ominous black clouds were closer, more people were running and screaming, and my husband was trying to get to the mission home where our daughter and I were.

This time we paid attention and chose to believe that it wasn’t just a dream; we started making plans to prepare our mission for an emergency. There was no hard evidence that we should prepare for anything. But we chose to believe those dreams were a warning. Although the dreams were symbolic and didn’t specify what the emergency was, my husband always felt we should prepare for an earthquake.

Because of those dreams, we prepared our missionaries by having them each put together a seventy-two-hour emergency pack that was checked monthly. We directed each zone to develop emergency plans so that each missionary would know what to do and the missionaries would have two options for safe places to go within their zones in the event of an emergency. The missionaries were all required to review those plans monthly and keep their emergency packs stocked and ready, even though many of them thought they would never have to use them. We did this for two years.

But much more important, we felt very strongly the need to prepare our missionaries spiritually and to strengthen their covenant connection with the Lord. With every teaching opportunity we focused on the power of the Savior and His Atonement, the blessings of repentance, and the protecting and strengthening power of keeping covenants and obeying commandments.

Two years after my husband had those dreams and two-and-a-half months before we finished our mission, on April 16, 2016, a powerful 7.8-magnitude earthquake hit Ecuador. The hardest hit areas were in our mission, and our entire mission was affected.

The earthquake hit early on a Saturday evening. My husband and I were three hundred miles away from the epicenter, and it felt as if the building we were in was going to collapse because the shaking was so strong. The epicenter was in the northern part of our mission, and 80 percent of the city there was destroyed. A third of our missionaries were in the hardest hit areas. The electricity had gone out as the shaking started, so the missionaries experienced the earthquake in complete darkness. Buildings were collapsing around them, people were running and screaming, and there was utter chaos and devastation. Hundreds of people were killed and thousands were injured.

But miraculously, not one of our missionaries was hurt, and they all knew where to go and what to do because of their emergency preparation. And although cell phone service went down immediately and stayed down for weeks, miracles happened that enabled all of them to contact their zone leaders, which enabled us to know of the well-being of each of our 185 missionaries within the space of two hours. Within forty-eight hours, many miracles happened that enabled us to get all of them out of those devastated areas and bring them to the safety of the temple grounds in Guayaquil, where they stayed in temple housing until we could accommodate them with the other missionaries.

There were many, many miracles that day—before, during, and after the earthquake—that saved our missionaries’ lives. The missionaries felt angels protecting them, and they felt great peace and God’s love for them in the middle of the extreme shaking, chaos, and destruction. That protection, peace, and love that they felt during the shaking—when so many were feeling terror—was not because of their emergency preparation but because of their spiritual preparation through their covenant relationship with their Father in Heaven and Jesus Christ.

I would like to share with you excerpts from some of the personal testimonies of those missionaries.

Sister Cox: My companion and I had been standing directly under some power lines, and a voice inside of me told me to grab my companion and move to the middle of the street. As the earth moved under our feet, we felt as if we were surfing, and the houses and buildings behind us began to fall and the power lines we were previously under snapped and fell as well. . . . I know that we had . . . angels surrounding every one of us.

Elder Valdez: We were on a balcony next to a brick wall when the shaking started and the lights went out. Buildings were falling around us, but I felt great amazement that the building we were in didn’t fall. I felt that someone was holding up the walls. But even more amazing was that I felt my [deceased] grandmother was there.

Sister Pugh: Afterward there was no cell phone service, and we couldn’t immediately contact our leaders, but I really felt very protected. I was scared, but I felt the Spirit so strongly, and I knew everything would be allright.

Elder Solórzano: I felt a great feeling of love and peace during the earthquake.

Elder Lugo: I felt immense peace in the middle of total devastation.

Sister Phippen: I don’t know why I felt so calm, but I knew that everything was going to be okay—even when we kept receiving news that our area was destroyed, that it was burning, and that many people had died.

Sister Tirrell: Although we were in the middle of a catastrophe, I felt a strong sense of peace and comfort.

Sister Ganán: I felt Heavenly Father had sent angels to hold up the walls. I felt very strongly the protection. Upon leaving the house, we saw many houses around us that seemed to be much stronger had fallen down.

Elder Ureta: After the shaking stopped, I realized that I had felt completely calm throughout the experience.

Elder Rios: I testify that the Holy Spirit guides us and that peace is so necessary in moments of difficulty. I will remember that all my life, especially when spiritual earthquakes come.

Elder Morán: I know that we have the opportunity to call down the powers of heaven and ask for help and protection. Through this experience I felt even more strongly the love of my Heavenly Father.

Elder Siggard: I felt a profound peace throughout the entire experience.

I have seen this firsthand in our HTM students from Kiribati. They had a strong desire to help lift their country from poverty, but they saw no opportunities back home and didn’t know how or where to begin. But they did not let their lack of understanding stop them. They brainstormed simple ideas, reached out to local leaders, requested meetings with government officials when they came to Hawaii, and saved their own money to travel back home where they engaged with community members. Their willingness to serve was placed in the Savior’s hands, and he multiplied their efforts beyond anything they could have imagined.

Since then, they have presented to their national parliament, were invited to a private reception with the president of their country, spoke at the United Nations, helped establish the first national park in all of Micronesia, influenced changes in national laws and public policy, began training programs that gave their countrymen hope and a secondary source of income, and even presented to international organizations like the World Bank that agreed to help fund their projects. Several of those students and I just returned from Kiribati last Saturday where they are partnering with the World Bank, the Kiribati government, and other community leaders as part of a $700M development initiative. What began as humble, uncertain steps became a national movement that changed the direction of their entire country and gave hope to their citizens for a better future—proof that the Lord can amplify our small offerings into something far greater when we let Him.

I was raised in a family that made family home evening a priority. In order to make it home in time on Mondays, we would go straight home from school without making plans to be with friends. Personal tasks, such as homework, were completed following family home evening. There really was nothing that took precedence over this special time for our family to be together.
Family home evening made an impact on us growing up not only because of the priority we placed on it but also because we worked together to make it happen. We rotated who would give the lesson, who would prepare the refreshments, and who would say the opening and closing prayers. We didn’t just listen to lessons but also had opportunities to be instructors. As a result, I was blessed to obtain a knowledge and testimony of the gospel and to have strengthened family ties.
Because family home evening has become a habit in my life, I look forward to the blessings it will bring when I have a family of my own.
Chieko Kobe, Japan

I started my professional career in marketing and sales in the pharmaceutical industry. I felt I was doing well. I was even promoted and received performance perks. But eventually, I came to a point where I was not reaching my full potential. I could have done more, but I was comfortable where I was. After seven years, the consequences of a global crisis impacted the industry, and I was not immune to its effects. My income decreased dramatically. I talked to Carola, and we took emergency measures to reduce costs to be able to survive financially. That unexpected wake-up call pushed me to improve in my professional career, and I began preparing myself to obtain a master’s degree overseas. It was a steep road; I needed to learn a second language, study to take specific tests, and understand new subjects. I was definitely having to move outside of my comfort zone! What happened? Well, I did it! And I grew in ways I had never imagined. It was not easy at the beginning, but I expanded my capacities.

I joined the Church when I was 16. Soon after, I became seriously ill and missed a month of school.
While I was sick, I decided to catch up on school assignments and read my history textbook. I was so excited when I saw there was a whole chapter on the Latter-day Saint contribution to the westward expansion of the United States!
But as I read, my heart sank. The history of my new church was twisted and ugly according to the textbook. How was I ever going to be tested on these falsehoods?
I finally went back to school, even though I still felt weak. Towards the end of my history class, my teacher suddenly stopped and asked, “Is anyone in this class a Mormon?”
The world seemed to stop. My heart pounded. I raised my hand and proclaimed to the entire class that I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“So, Wendy, have you read the chapter about the Mormons?” the teacher asked. I told him I had. “Is it accurate?” I said it was not. “We’re not going to discuss this chapter in class,” he said. “Every Mormon student I’ve ever had has said the textbook is incorrect.” He then suggested that if anyone wanted to know the true history of the Church, they could ask me!
Although I may have been weak physically, with the support and guidance of the Holy Ghost, I was stronger than I ever imagined I could be.
Wendy Z., California, USA

When I moved to Mexico with my family, I made friends with a group of kids who played together but left some people out. One day I decided to go play with a girl named Eli, who was sitting by herself in a corner. We started sitting together at lunchtime, and we played basketball and soccer and made things together.
At first my group of friends said, “If you want to be her friend, then we can’t be your friend.” But I kept spending time with Eli. Eventually my group of friends joined us, and we all became friends.
I told Eli about the Church and what I liked about it. She decided to come to my baptism and started coming to church with us quite often. Now we live in different cities, but we still keep in touch through video chat and email. She is still in my heart.