Gospel Story Finder

With Kelly’s family members being some of her greatest friends, they also help fill in gaps when other friendships hit bumpy patches. For example, there aren’t a lot of Church members where Kelly lives. Sometimes the difference in values between Kelly and her friends has been a challenge for her.

“When I was younger, I kind of got lost in what my friends wanted me to be,” she says. “But reading the scriptures and praying helped. I also turned to my family.

“One time I asked my friends to change their bad music, but that didn’t really work. They just said, ‘If you don’t like it, go home.’ So I prayed and asked Heavenly Father what I should do. He told me to call my parents and go home.”

When Mom wasn’t feeling good, she needed us to cooperate even more. Dad always told us how much he appreciated our help, and we knew that Mom did too. She liked to rest near us when we practiced our music lessons and did our homework. “Now, here’s a little testimony for you. I have always wanted to hear you play that song so well.” “Here’s a little testimony for you. I can still remember how to do those math problems, so I can help you with your homework!”

One day Dad woke us up very early. Mom had had a bad night, and she was very, very ill. She wanted to talk to us because she knew that it was almost time for her to go back to live with Heavenly Father.
When we went into her bedroom, she reached out and touched each of us and told us how much she loved us. “Now, here’s a little testimony for you,” she said. “Even though I’ll be leaving you very soon, it’s part of Heavenly Father’s plan.”

We all wept. It didn’t seem as if there could ever be enough time to tell Mom how much we loved her.
“Sweetheart,” she said to Dad, “would you bring me the special book I have been keeping, please?”
Dad handed her a pretty journal.
“This journal is filled with lots of little things for you to remember when I’m not here to talk to you anymore. It’s full of little testimonies for you. I want you to remember how much I love the Savior. I want you to love Him that much, too, so that we can always be together.”
We opened the beautiful book. The pages were filled with memories, in Mom’s handwriting, of the joy of the days gone by. We read things like, “I saw some tiny kittens at Aunt Sis’s house. They knew their mother immediately, without even being able to see. We can learn to know the Savior like that, if we have faith.” “The garden seeds are sprouting. After the long, cold winter, it’s good to see them coming up again. It reminds me of the Resurrection, and the promise of new life.”
We closed the book before we had time to look at all the pages. Mom was closing her eyes, but she had a smile on her face. “Whenever you feel lonely for me, I want you to read this book.” She opened her eyes. “I want you to remember that the Savior loves you very much. When you pray, you will feel safe and calm and you will know that I love you still.”
It wasn’t long before Mom left us. We all felt sad and lonely. Dad gathered us together, and we had family prayer. “Now, here’s a little testimony for you,” he said. “This family has so much love that we know that it will go on forever. We will miss Mom, but we know that the Savior makes it possible for us to be together again.”
Mom has been gone for quite a while now. We still miss her, and we think of her a lot. When we feel lonely, we get out the special book and read the little testimonies she left for us. I can just “hear” her saying something about an answer to prayers, or what wonderful blessings we receive. I’m glad we have those special memories.
Dad got each of us a journal so that we can write down all our own little testimonies. I have written a lot about the times I remember with Mom, but I am writing new little testimonies too.
And you know what? Mom’s journal of little testimonies is really one great big, strong testimony about the plan of salvation, about the Savior’s love for us.

“How high are we going, Dad?” Keith asked, skipping merrily along to keep up with his father’s long, quick strides.
“To the fourth floor,” said Dad with a smile when they approached the four-story bank building. Keith had been in the bank before but had never ridden its elevator.
“Elevators are magic,” Keith said.
“What do you mean?” asked Dad.
“Well, people go into them, and the doors close. Then when they come out, they are somewhere else.”
Father laughed. “I guess you’re right, son. An elevator is magic!”
Keith gripped his dad’s hand as they pushed through the big swinging double glass doors of the bank building. “How many elevators are there?” he asked.
“Only one,” Dad answered.
Keith was about to ask how people came back down if the elevator stopped working. But when he passed a door with the word STAIRS on it he decided he already knew the answer.
Dad stopped at some large shiny doors and pushed a little button that lighted up. The doors opened and some people stepped out. Keith wondered where they all came from.
Keith and his dad stepped quickly into the elevator. Dad pushed another little button stamped with a 4.
“What would happen if we didn’t stop at 4?” Keith asked, watching a row of numbers light up one at a time. Dad said that the fourth floor was as high as the elevator went. But Keith wondered if anyone had ever gone past there and had stopped on the roof or maybe even high above the clouds somewhere.
However, when the elevator slowed to a stop on the fourth floor, the door opened onto a long, narrow hallway. Then another thought came to Keith. “Dad, how far down does an elevator go?”
“It stops in the basement below the level of the ground,” Dad answered.
Keith wondered what would happen if the elevator didn’t stop when it got to the basement, but he didn’t say anything.
When his dad had finished with his business they returned to the elevator. Keith was still thinking about the basement when Dad pushed the button. Soon the elevator doors silently slid open. No one came out, so Keith stepped in.
Just then someone called to Dad and he stopped and turned to see who it was. Suddenly, the heavy doors closed, leaving Keith in the elevator all by himself. Keith yelled, “Dad!” and tried to open the doors, but they wouldn’t budge and he didn’t know about the special button that could be pushed to reopen them. Even if he had known, he was too short to reach it.
The elevator started moving, slowly at first, but then it picked up speed as down, down, down it went. Keith watched fearfully as the row of numbers lighted up again, one at a time—3, 2, 1. When the elevator didn’t slow down at 1, he was really afraid. But when the letter B lit up, the elevator finally came to a gentle stop.
Keith wondered what would happen next. He was so frightened that a big tear started to roll down his cheek. Slowly and quietly the doors slid open. Standing before him was a man in striped overalls, carrying a mop and a well-used bucket.
“Well, hello, there!” said the man, with a surprised look on his face.
“Hi,” Keith managed to say, stepping out of the elevator. “Who—who are you?”
The man’s surprised look slowly turned into a broad smile. “I’m Joe, the building custodian. Are you lost?”
“I guess I am, sort of. My dad’s up on the fourth floor and I’m down here. I want to get back to him.”
“Do you remember how your dad made the elevator take him to the fourth floor? I bet you could do the same thing,” Joe encouraged.
“But I can’t reach the buttons.”
“I see,” said Joe. “That is a problem.”
Then Joe held up the head of the mop. “Let me introduce you to this beauty. Her name is Liz, and she’s the queen of the basement.”
He put his head close to the head of his mop. “What did you say, Liz? That you want to visit the fourth floor, and that you’d like us to escort you?”
Joe bent down and whispered to Keith. “She means she wants us to go with her and help her punch elevator buttons. What do you think? Should we help her out?”
“You bet!” said Keith, grinning from ear to ear.
“OK, Your Highness. This way,” said Joe with a flourish and a bow to the mop. Joe picked up the bucket and, with Keith’s help, escorted Liz into the elevator. And up they went.
Dad was glad to see Keith. And after both of them thanked Joe for his help, Dad was introduced to Liz. He said he’d be honored to shake the queen’s hand, but since that didn’t seem possible, he’d just say, “Thanks.”
On the way down in the elevator, Dad asked, “Well, son, did you learn anything about elevators today?”
“Yep,” said Keith as he watched the numbers light up one at a time. “What goes up—comes down.”

It isn’t fair. It just isn’t fair at all! Raymond thought as he saw his brother, Joey, coming out the back door. Why does he always have to hang around me? He walked quickly around the side of the house, hoping that Joey hadn’t seen him. But Joey followed him and said “Hi, Raymond. Want to play?”
“No,” Raymond answered. “Now go back in the house.” The last thing that Raymond needed was a four-year-old brother tagging along. He turned his back on Joey and walked away.
Joey stood and watched as his big brother walked across the front lawn to the sidewalk. He knew that Raymond was looking for his friends so that they could play baseball. Joey followed him at a distance, a little closer when Raymond crossed the street and knocked on Pete’s door. Pete was Raymond’s best friend. Pete came to the door, and the two older boys set off for the ball diamond at the park. Joey followed along. Pete and Raymond reached the park and met three other friends. As they took their positions on the field, Raymond noticed Joey standing quietly by first base. “Joey, you shouldn’t have followed us! Mom will be worried. Now go home!” he hollered in his maddest, big-brother voice.
Joey stood still. “I can’t go home,” he said quietly. “Mom won’t let me cross the street by myself.”
Raymond knew that he would have to take Joey home. He wanted to stay and play ball with his friends, but he knew how worried his mother would be when she couldn’t find Joey. Grabbing Joey’s hand and pulling him along, he muttered something under his breath.
“What?” said Joey. “I didn’t hear you.”
“I said that you are a horrible little pest. Sometimes I wish that you had never been born!”
As soon as the words were out of Raymond’s mouth, he was sorry. He saw Joey’s soft brown eyes fill with shiny tears. Then he remembered his friends playing ball without him, and he pulled harder on Joey’s arm. “Hurry up!” he scolded. “I don’t want to be stuck with you all day!”
They crossed the street to their house, Raymond pulling and Joey crying.
“There,” Raymond said. “Now, go into the house, like I told you.”
Joey wiped his eyes and went up the walk.
Raymond ran back across the street and down to the park. He took his place in the outfield. At last he was rid of the horrible little pest. But he could still hear his own angry words, “I wish that you had never been born!” His stomach felt funny just remembering them.
The ball came his way. He caught it and threw it back to Pete at home plate. “Easy out!” he yelled.
Pete laughed and tossed the ball up to hit it again. Raymond watched the ball as it made an arc to the other side of the field. In his mind, he heard the words echo, … never been born! “I didn’t really mean it,” Raymond muttered softly. He felt that funny feeling in his stomach again and wondered if Joey knew that he hadn’t meant it.
He continued practicing with his friends, but it wasn’t as much fun as he thought that it would be. He felt more and more uncomfortable. Finally he threw Pete’s mitt to him and yelled, “Gotta go.”
“But we were going to play for another hour or so,” Pete said. “How come you have to go?”
“I just have to go,” Raymond said, and he began running toward home, pausing only to check for cars before he crossed the street. Reaching his house, he hurried to the kitchen, where his mother was getting things out to fix dinner. She looked at him and said, “How was practice?”
“OK, I guess.” He wondered why mothers always looked at you as though they knew what you were thinking. Is it my guilty conscience, or does she know the mean things that I said to Joey this morning? “Where’s Joey?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“In his room, playing, I think.” She sounded as though she didn’t know what had happened, and yet Raymond couldn’t bear to look at her.
He went down the hall to Joey’s room, promising himself that he would play whatever Joey wanted to play. But when he looked into the room, Joey lay curled up on his bed, fast asleep, with his teddy bear in his arms and tearstains on his cheeks.
The things that he had shouted at Joey that morning still echoed in Raymond’s mind as he went to his own room and lay on his bed. He almost wished that he were young enough to have a teddy bear of his own to hug. He wondered what he could do to make things better.
Slipping off the bed and onto his knees, Raymond folded his arms and bowed his head and said, “Heavenly Father, today I said some mean things to Joey. I made him cry. It made me feel bad too. I really didn’t mean what I said. Please help me to know how to make him feel better. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Raymond lay back down on his bed, thinking hard. Finally he knew what he could do. He jumped up, went over to his desk, and searched quickly through the clutter for a pencil and a piece of paper. He drew a picture of a tall boy on one end of the paper. On the other end he drew a picture of a shorter boy. Under the tall boy he wrote Raymond; under the short boy he printed Joey. Each boy was wearing a baseball mitt, and a baseball was in the air between the two boys. When he was finished, he folded the picture and wrote on the outside, “Joey, I love you. Raymond.”
He crept into Joey’s room and laid the note on Joey’s pillow. Then he went back to his own room to wait for Joey to wake up and find the note. Lying there, he whispered a quiet “Thank you” to his Heavenly Father. He felt lighter and happier inside.
In a few minutes Joey walked into his room. “Raymond?” he said in a little voice.
“Hi, pal!” Raymond replied. “I’m sorry I yelled at you before. I didn’t mean what I said. Want to go out in the yard and play catch with me?”
“I thought that you were playing with Pete and the other guys.”
“Well, I was,” said Raymond, “but right now, I want to play ball with my favorite little brother.”

I hope that following graduation from BYU–Hawaii, each of you will find a career that stretches your skills and fills your days with accomplishment. That career for my wife was as a homemaker while for me it was management consulting. I worked long hours and traveled much over 15 years in this demanding profession. Nevertheless, several occasions during my career were turning points of "Choose you this day whom ye will serve" (Joshua 24:15). As a young associate I had to refuse requests from managers who wanted my time on Sundays. As a new partner I declined serving some clients whose locations would cause me even more travel. As a senior partner I turned down a well-known company's offer of significant compensation to join their senior management team because I feared the impact on my family. Each time I chose gospel over career, my family, my Church service and my career ended up being blessed. I know that spiritual and temporal blessings can come to you if you keep your covenants.

Some time ago I sinned, then said a prayer and thought I had truly repented. One day I felt a great feeling in my heart that I should have a very honest conversation with the bishop. I talked to the bishop, and he guided me where I should improve. I fasted and offered fervent prayers. This time I felt I had truly repented. I know Heavenly Father cares for us and that the Atonement of Christ gives us true forgiveness when we repent and confess our sins.
Awrellyano Gomes da S.

I too was questioned by my friends, classmates, and even my teachers in school about our standards. They said that our Church standards are so strict. Instead of arguing with them, I asked for their time to share with them all about our Church standards. I simply showed them that I am very happy and comfortable living with our standards. I also did not use our standards as an excuse to miss some school activities. Instead, I suggested some ideas for the school activities to follow our Church standards. I also shared with them the advantages of following those standards.
Ailyn L., 19, Davao, Philippines

Photograph by Leslie Nilsson
I was raised in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but I left the Church as a teenager after my family moved from Alabama. Later, I moved to California, where I worked and studied. That’s where I met Patrick. Six weeks later, we were engaged.
Once we got married and started having children, we knew it was essential that they understand the importance of faith and religion. We wanted that to be part of our family.
We became what we called “vacation churchgoers,” visiting lots of churches. We’d try this one over here and that one over there, but nothing ever felt right.
In 2012 we traveled to Alabama so I could reconnect with family members. We fell in love with the area where I lived as a child. So, we moved there in 2014, bought some land and animals, and started growing and selling produce.
One morning our seven-year-old son, Jesse, came into our bedroom with an illustrated children’s Bible.
“Mom, look at this picture of Jesus,” he said. “He’s getting baptized. Why am I not baptized?”
All the children read and loved that Bible, and they all began asking similar questions: “Why don’t we have a church? When are we getting baptized?”
About this same time we began making caramels from goat’s milk and selling them at local farmers markets. People loved them, and our caramel business took off. By that fall, we were selling our caramels in about 30 stores. By June 2015, we went to a major international market in Atlanta and added about a hundred stores. Soon, we were on television and in a couple of magazines.
We were making caramels full time leading into that fall. That’s when things took a turn in our lives.
I had what I thought I always wanted in life—a farm-based business working with my family and teaching my children about life through a farm. People had this beautiful picture of our family working together, but we were struggling big time.
We were ignoring the kids in order to make the business work. Our marriage wasn’t getting any attention. We were trying to do too much. Our priorities weren’t straight. We didn’t have a spiritual base. We didn’t have Heavenly Father guiding our lives. We were just trying to do everything by ourselves.
That fall the children all came down with strep throat. We gave them antibiotics, and soon everybody was fine except for Jesse. His cough wouldn’t go away, and his neck became swollen. Pat took him to the pediatrician for what we thought would be a second antibiotic.
Two hours later Pat called from the hospital. The pediatrician had sent Jesse there for an X-ray to check for infection in his lungs. Instead, doctors found an 11-inch tumor in his chest.
“Go home, get your family packed up, head to Birmingham, and prepare for a lengthy stay,” the doctor said.
A few days after we arrived at the children’s hospital in Birmingham, we received Jesse’s diagnosis. He had pediatric acute lymphoblastic leukemia, a rare type of aggressive leukemia.
For the next three weeks, Pat and I lived at the hospital. While I zoned in on Jesse, Pat made the 90-minute drive back and forth from our home to the hospital. He tried to keep our business going and care for our goats. My mother-in-law came from California and stayed with our other children.
Jesse’s tumor had begun to cut off his airways, but it shrank after six weeks of chemotherapy. We thought that once the cancer went into remission, it would be an easy road ahead, but then Jesse got a blood clot in his brain. After doctors dealt with that, he got fungal pneumonia. He was in and out of the hospital seven times over the next several months.
In December 2015, while Jesse was back in the hospital, I began reading the Book of Mormon. I thought, “I left the Church, and I just want to rule it out like I’ve ruled out all the other churches.” But right away, it hit me like a ton of bricks—full peace. The book just spoke to me. I didn’t even have to pray to find out it was true. I knew in my heart it was true from the very beginning. I would read for hours sitting in that hospital room.
At one point, Jesse spiked a fever, which lasted for 10 days. It wouldn’t break, and doctors decided they needed to do a bone marrow biopsy to see if the leukemia had returned. I remember lying on the floor of the hospital. I had reached bottom. That’s when I decided to call Elaine Oborn, a member of our ward while I was growing up in Alabama.
I had been best friends with Sister Oborn’s daughter. Though I hadn’t spoken to the Oborn family for 20 years, I couldn’t get Elaine’s face out of my mind. I looked her up on Facebook, and there on the hospital floor, I called her.
“Do you even remember me?” I asked.
After explaining what our family was experiencing, I told Sister Oborn: “I don’t know what I need, but I need something. I’m not active in the Church. We don’t even have a church, but I keep thinking of you. Please, can you help me?”
“We can start by getting you and Jesse a blessing,” she said. She said her husband, Lynn, would come to the hospital that evening.
After the phone call, I told Pat, “I know you’re not a member of the Church, but can we have some guys come and give Jesse a blessing?”
“Whatever it takes for him to feel better,” he said.
That evening, in came Brother Oborn with two full-time missionaries, all dressed in white medical protective clothing because Jesse was so sick.
“The angels are coming for us,” I remember thinking as I opened the door.
They gave Jesse a blessing. Then Brother Oborn lined up all the kids and gave each of them a blessing. Then he gave me a blessing. Then he gave Pat a blessing. That was one of the first experiences where we all felt the Spirit. It was powerful. The next day, Jesse’s fever broke. As soon as he was released from the hospital, we started attending church.
In February 2016, the full-time missionaries began visiting us. At first Pat thought they were coming over to help on the farm. When we accepted an invitation for them to teach us, he thought the lessons were just for the children.
As the missionaries were preparing to teach us their first lesson, Pat went out to work on the tractor. After about 20 minutes, I could see that they—two sisters and two elders—were deflated. At that moment, I felt that I should get Pat and ask him to come listen for a couple of minutes.
Later the missionaries told me that they had been praying that that’s what I would do. They knew that Pat needed to hear what they were teaching.
After the missionaries had taught us for several weeks, Jesse, Bo, and Frank wanted to be baptized. Pat thought that was great, but he felt that he was “beyond salvation.” That was before he met Von and Glenda Memory and heard Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles speak during general conference.
When we saw Brother Memory at church, I recognized him from when I was a child. He was now serving as the ward mission leader. Pat introduced himself, telling Brother Memory that he really wanted the Church for our children.
“That sounds good,” Brother Memory said with a twinkle in his eye. “We’ll do it for the children.”
A few weeks later, after a lesson from the missionaries on the plan of salvation, Brother Memory said, “Boys, we’re going to talk about your baptism.” Then he added, “And then we’re going to talk about your dad’s baptism.”
Pat said OK, but his doubts about his readiness and worthiness persisted until general conference that April.
“You may be afraid, angry, grieving, or tortured by doubt,” Elder Uchtdorf said in his talk. “But just as the Good Shepherd finds His lost sheep, if you will only lift up your heart to the Savior of the world, He will find you.”1
Pat said: “Before then, it hadn’t occurred to me that I really could be a part of this, that I was worthy of salvation. But after listening to Elder Uchtdorf, it hit me that it wasn’t too late for me. I actually have a shot to get to heaven. I had never felt anything like that. From then on I knew. This is the Savior’s Church. We found it. I got baptized and received the priesthood. A week later I baptized my boys. When our girls were old enough, I baptized them.”
A year later, we were sealed in the Birmingham Alabama Temple.
Living the gospel of Jesus Christ as members of His Church has strengthened our marriage. It has made me a better mom. It has given our kids a foundation they never would have had. We’re confident about their futures, now that they have the Church in their lives.
I’m so grateful for everything that has happened and for all the lessons I’ve learned. I think it was important for me to go through a lot of stuff, a lot of mental anguish. I needed to be humbled, feel desperate for God’s help and love and forgiveness, and forgive myself of wrongdoings earlier in my life.
Jesse completed chemotherapy and his last round of steroids in March 2019. We would be devastated if his cancer returned, but now we have an eternal perspective. Now we’re sealed as a family. I can’t imagine ever not having the Church as my go-to for everything. The gospel has changed us forever.
Whatever happens, it’s going to be OK. We’re not afraid anymore. Jesse’s illness led to the best thing that ever happened to us. It brought us to the Savior’s Church.

Tickets for the October 2000 general conference were in high demand as it marked the dedication of the newly constructed Conference Center in Salt Lake City. Living in Germany at the time, we felt blessed to reserve a few tickets through our local ward and excitedly embarked on our journey as part of a business trip. Upon picking up our tickets at the Conference Center, because of a glitch in the system, I received three tickets to the priesthood session instead of the one I had ordered. Subsequently, I had offered the two extra tickets to friends, but an hour before the start of the priesthood session they informed me that they could not attend. Meanwhile, seemingly endless lines of brethren with standby tickets began forming around Temple Square, each ticket holder hoping to receive one of the rare empty seats left vacant by those with an official ticket. I prayed diligently before leaving my hotel room for the Lord to guide me to someone who might benefit from receiving the two precious tickets. With this prayer in my heart, I stepped outside and began walking around Temple Square. I passed hundreds of brethren who were looking for tickets, but I had not felt a particular prompting to give them away to anyone.
Sometime later, I found myself just outside the Tabernacle on Temple Square. There I noticed a father and son standing dejectedly on the outside steps and felt impressed to speak with them. I learned that they had just realized that they only had standby tickets and that due to the long lines they would not be able to attend the session. Sensing that the Lord had guided me to them I quickly I asked, “How would you like to get two real tickets for the priesthood session?” After first thinking that I was joking, their reaction was priceless as they wouldn’t stop thanking me. After exchanging business cards, I walked off satisfied that the Lord had answered my prayer and thought no more of the encounter.
After returning to Germany, I received a long e-mail from that father. He explained that his youngest son was approaching missionary age, but his testimony and his resolve to serve a mission were waning. The parents were concerned about him and spent many hours in prayer and fasting. A few weeks before general conference, an announcement was made in their ward that a small number of priesthood session tickets would be available for the brethren of their ward. The son unexpectedly turned to the father and said, “Why don’t we go?” The parents were thrilled about their son’s sudden enthusiasm, and after church they picked up two tickets from their bishop. In the weeks leading up to general conference, the parents of the young man spent much time in fasting, prayer, and temple worship, pleading with the Lord that the priesthood session experience would change their son’s heart and set him on the path of missionary service.
After arriving early to Temple Square, they had tried to enter the Conference Center, but were told that all they had were standby tickets and were asked to check for seats in the Tabernacle or to join the long lines of brethren in the standby line. Finding that there were also no more seats available in the Tabernacle, the father wrote that while standing on its outside steps, he prayed silently hoping for a miracle that would validate all the fasting and praying on their son’s behalf. The Lord heard his prayer and moments later he was holding in his hands two real tickets for the priesthood session. He reported that he and his son had a marvelous, spirit-filled experience, and that his son had made the decision to serve a full-time mission.

I was born in a small community on the northern island of Hokkaido, Japan. When I was five years old, my father was killed by an attack from an American submarine. As a little boy I became bitter toward Americans. I grew up that way, not really knowing what had happened to cause the war.
When I graduated from junior high school, we were so poor. My mother could not afford to send me to senior high school, so I decided to go to work in order to fund my continued education. There was no work in our small village, but I found a job producing tofu (bean curd) nine hours away from home in Muroran, where my mother was raised.
Every day in Muroran I got up by 4:30 a.m., made tofu until noon, and then delivered it to various stores until 6:00 p.m. After work I washed, changed, ate, and ran to night school. I returned home about 10:30 p.m. and jumped into bed at 11:00 p.m. Because of my exhausting schedule, I soon lost all of my energy and became ill.
I was staying in the tofu shop owner’s home, but I quit my job and asked my uncle to take me in so I could finish my first year of high school. Despite medication, I remained sick. I didn’t know what to do, and I became desperate and felt that I might be dying. I prayed hard, saying, “If there is a God, wilt Thou bless me that I might be able to get well.” Then I prayed something somewhat presumptuous: “If I am cured, I want to repay Thee.”
While I was at my uncle’s home, two foreigners knocked at the door early one evening. They were missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. One, Elder Law—the senior companion—had been a farmer in St. Anthony, Idaho, USA; the other, Elder Porter—a new elder—was from Salt Lake City. It was cold, rainy, and nearly dark, and they were ready to go home. But for some reason they persisted in knocking on doors.
When they knocked on my door, I was alone. I answered the door and said, “No, thank you.”
These young men were humble and persistent, but I said again, “No, thank you.” Then I added, “You folks killed my father.” I was still bitter.
Undeterred, the elder from Idaho asked my age. I said, “What does my age matter? Please go.”
He replied, “I want to tell you a story about a boy your age who saw your Heavenly Father and your Savior, Jesus Christ. We want to share that story.” I almost froze at the door.
I said, “I’ll give you 10 minutes.”
Those 10 minutes touched me deeply and changed my life. The story the missionaries shared was so profound and beautiful. I found out that I am a child of God and that I came from Him.
The elders came every day because I was sick. During their discussions with me, the missionaries taught me the beautiful gospel of the Restoration. I found my Savior. The gospel gave me hope and the will to live. A few weeks after the missionaries knocked on my door, I was baptized.

My wife and I learned a valuable lesson about this several years ago when we had the opportunity to build a new home. During the months of planning and building, an interesting phenomenon occurred. Even though we were blessed to have a nicer home with more comforts than we had ever had before, rather than being content, we began looking for ways to acquire more. We had to have new furniture for the room in which we entertained guests so we could put the old furniture in a room they would not visit as often. But our old TV didn’t go well with the new furniture, so we had to have a new TV. Our “needs” began to escalate.
We finally came to our senses and realized we had succumbed to temptations we had thought would never afflict us. First, we allowed Satan to help us rationalize our desire for worldly gain so that it appeared justifiable, even noble; and second, we sacrificed our happiness and peace of mind in an attempt to acquire the things of the world. We found that when “all we’ve ever wanted” is fundamentally the temporal trappings of this world, we always want more than we have.

When Dean and Bonnie Hill were called to serve as senior missionaries in the Cochabamba Bolivia Temple, Bonnie was apprehensive. She had never studied Spanish and was uncertain about her ability to perform necessary ordinances or relate with others in an unfamiliar language. A priesthood blessing promised her that she would be able to communicate both verbally and spiritually in Spanish.
“I can’t really speak much Spanish outside the temple,” she says. “But in the house of the Lord, it seems to come easily to me.”
Even after she and her husband returned home and attended Spanish sessions in the Ogden Utah Temple, patrons remarked at her superb accent.

MICHAEL: I started with alcohol. I started just because of curiosity and a little peer pressure. I was popular and had a lot of friends at school who drank.

MICHAEL: I felt, “Hey, this isn’t bad.” My parents had put this big warning of doom over alcohol and drugs, like I was going to die or get some weird disease, and I was feeling just fine. I figured they didn’t know what they were talking about.

MICHAEL: I continued to use, and as time went on, I found that I started looking at things differently. My priorities changed. I was using more and more alcohol and running around with people I previously wouldn’t have hung out with. At age 16 I dropped out of school. I had really been into sports, but I stopped all that. I’d started smoking marijuana and had gone on to cocaine.

My parents put me into a drug treatment center. When I got out I went back to using and got heavy into cocaine, crank, and crack.

My Mormon values had gone right out the door. I kept running away, and I was stealing money. I was in trouble with the law. My relationship with my parents had gone downhill. They couldn’t trust me, and I was belligerent.

I’m lucky to be alive. I had friends who died.

Days start early in the Chung Tien household. The father, Willie Chung Tien, is the baker for the village of Mataura, located on the island of Tubuai in French Polynesia. That means most mornings he starts work at 4:00 a.m. It’s the only way bread will be ready in time for breakfast, and many people depend on Brother Chung Tien for their daily bread.
Eleven-year-old Lee Yen Chung Tien has learned a lot from her father’s example. “I don’t get up as early as he does,” she says. “But I try to work hard like he does, and to serve other people like he does.” She knows that many mornings her father takes fresh, hot bread to the missionaries serving on Tubuai. She knows that he gives many hours in service to the Church in his calling as first counselor in the Mataura Branch presidency. She also knows that many people on the island admire his friendly smile and his positive attitude. “He is a great example to our family,” Lee Yen says. “His happiness helps us all to be happy too.”

An Invitation for Greater Spirituality
A few years ago I was invited to serve on the BYU Women’s Conference Committee. You may have noticed the 15,000 women on campus last month. That really had been my only experience with Women’s Conference prior to this invitation. But I felt strongly about the divinity of women and was happy to help with the planning.
It did not take long for me to see that this was not a typical university assignment. The committee was composed of women from the campus, from the community, and from the Church general boards. I found myself resistant to being a part of this company of women. What did I have to offer? I was not like them: I did not have a wardrobe of cute, coordinated jackets, and my hair was very long and somewhat unruly—not in the accepted style!
As the semester went on, and as these ­remarkable women accepted me with open arms, I began to realize that what I really desired was to be like them. I wanted to delve into the scriptures as they did and draw upon the Spirit as they did. I had to painfully look into myself to see that I was reluctant to be repotted. But if I was to become a woman of God, I needed to allow myself to become more and to be uprooted; I needed to dig a little deeper. I softened my heart and allowed myself to grow, with great gratitude to those beautiful examples on that committee. And I believe my hairstyle is getting closer.

You can’t help but like Andrea* the second you meet her. She’s warm and friendly and fun, and she knows how to make you feel good about yourself.
But she wasn’t always like that.
For a long time, she carried around a dark and tragic secret that she could confess to no one. She cried a lot. She was usually depressed. She withdrew from people—wasn’t close to anyone, and didn’t have the self-confidence to excel in school or anything else. Andrea had been sexually abused when she was younger.
“I thought I had committed a terrible sin,” she said. “I thought it was too gross to tell anyone. I felt disgusting and totally worthless, until a very understanding bishop explained to me that it wasn’t my fault, that the Lord still loved me, and that I could get help.”
The help Andrea got, which included professional and religious counseling, enabled her to put those traumatic experiences in the past and become emotionally and spiritually healthy again.

Andrea has gone through all these stages, and despite the problems in her past, she’s able to lead a happy, fulfilling life. Others like her who have experienced sexual abuse can recover in the same way. It is important for them to realize that they have a right not to be abused, and that they need to get help if it happens. They need to know that they are not at fault, that they are not impure, nor are they any less chaste. And most of all, they need to know that Heavenly Father still loves them, has great hope for them, and has provided ways for them to recover.

Just as he was ready to enter high school, another opportunity presented itself, one Corey was more than prepared for. He was a great swimmer. He had a good singing voice, and his grades were excellent. Why not try for admission to one of the most prestigious preparatory schools in New South Wales? He also had a little luck on his side. “I applied for a scholarship at King’s School. I took a test and performed a piece of music. At first there were no scholarships available at all, but at the school they thought they would have me do the tests and offer me a scholarship for the next year. On the day that I did my tests and performed, another person was offered a scholarship and withdrew. I took his place. I was at King’s School the next four years.” As it turned out, he was also the only Latter-day Saint student attending there.

After the meeting, several students shared how they heard about the Church from Pavel Agafonov.
Pavel learned of the Church in March 1990, while studying engineering and psychology in the United States. Previously, he had visited many other churches, asking hard questions. “None of the churches I visited could answer the questions I had,” explains Pavel. “I wanted a real church, one that knows God today.”
He was baptized in April 1990, then began bringing his friends. Since then, his two roommates, Andrei Chromovskich, another engineering and psychology major, and Vladimir Shestakov, a semi-professional basketball player and athletics major, have both joined the Church. Another friend of Pavel’s named Valeri Pomazanov, who studies at the institute of teachers, has also joined the Church. These young men agree that there is no other place where they’ve found as much closeness, both emotionally and spiritually, as they’ve found in the Church.

Partway through my mission in Arizona, USA, I was hit with my first panic attack. I talked to leaders, asked for help, and prayed a lot. But the help I needed did not seem to come. I felt alone and afraid. I was even told I might have to go home.
One day my mother called. She asked, “Can you keep going?” I responded with, “I don’t know. I really don’t know.” Then my mom said, “Can you do one more month?” I said, “I don’t know.”
“What about one more week?” she asked. “I don’t know,” I said again. “What about one more day?” she asked. “I. Don’t. Know,” I said.
Then she asked, “Can you do one more minute?” Finally I said, “Well yes, of course.” She told me, “Then just do that. Go minute to minute, until you can get to an hour. Then let it progress, slowly. Don’t rush. Just let God take over. I promise you’re going to be OK.”
I trusted in her words. I have now been out for almost 21 months. I still struggle with mental health sometimes. But I also experience a lot of joy. And I have faith that as I go step by step, minute by minute, I can do this through the power of the Lord and His infinite Atonement. Struggles with mental health are real. But as we turn to Christ, we can do hard things.
Elder Rhett Turley, Arizona Mesa Mission

Scripture study was a welcome break for Angel, even if her friends didn’t understand why she’d take time away from her school classes to bother with religion. “A lot of them think it’s strange that I spend time with my church. Most of my classmates don’t have any religious beliefs,” says Angel, who was the only Church member in the Taipei First Girls’ School student body of 4,000-plus. “Some students will discuss religion with me, but most of the time they just think being LDS is strange because it takes me away from my schoolwork.”
One of those classmates is a friend Angel invited to church one Sunday. Angel says her friend had a generally positive experience at church, and even told Angel afterward that she felt religion was good, and that she might think about becoming religious herself—after she graduates from the university. “She just didn’t think she had the time for church,” Angel adds.
Even Angel’s father, Liu Chen Mei Yu, isn’t completely convinced the time his daughter spends learning the gospel is all that productive. He often questions if Angel’s time wouldn’t be better spent studying or going to the library. When Angel’s mother, Catherine, joined the Church in 1984, Angel was only seven. Although Liu Chen Mei Yu didn’t object to his wife’s baptism, he had no interest in joining the Church with her. However he did allow Angel to be baptized when she turned eight. “My father is interesting,” Angel adds. “Sometimes he will say, ‘Since you have an exam coming up, maybe you shouldn’t go to church.’ But there are other times when he’ll tell me to hurry up because he doesn’t want me to be late for church.
“My parents have high expectations of me. My father thinks I can have a great impact on our family by continuing my education and doing well,” Angel adds. Angel is also quick to point out she can have a great impact on her family by staying active in the Church too.
“In Taiwan, parents who are members of the Church set examples for their children,” says Kent Liang, a former regional representative and stake president. “They go to church and perform their callings, and the children are able to see this. But some kids whose parents aren’t members are often tempted to rest and not go to church on Sundays. And the school competition is so high that school is sometimes all they see. They think, Should I go to church or go to the library? Sometimes they don’t worry that much about church things because they don’t see that far into the future. Right now, many of the kids in Taiwan are only worried about school.”
And that’s what’s so amazing about Angel. School is important. But it’s not the only thing in her life. She graduated near the top of her high school class, yet she doubts she could have done it had she not had the gospel’s guiding influence in her life.
“The Church was especially helpful to me during my senior year of high school. I noticed a lot of my schoolmates were easily depressed because of school,” she says. “But I knew if I did my best, Heavenly Father would help me. Usually, my grades were better than I expected.”
Today, college life keeps Angel incredibly busy as she studies to become a doctor. As Angel returns home from a full day, she still takes time to read from the scriptures. When she closes her triple combination, it’s 10:30 P.M. Angel’s day is over—finally. She can close her eyes knowing she’s doing well in school, and, more importantly, she’s finding time to include the gospel in her busy life. In less than eight hours, her day will begin all over again. Angel will undoubtedly enjoy a very sound sleep.