Gospel Story Finder

“Life’s a disaster,” Travis mumbled, slouching into the bench at the back of the chapel. It was Sister Stott’s last Sunday in the ward, and he hadn’t felt this bad since he fell off his skateboard into a muddy ravine.
He scanned the chapel, looking for Sister Stott, his Valiant teacher. She had just finished teaching his Primary class and now was sitting in her favorite spot, the center of the second row. Her shiny brown hair hung over the back of the bench as she hugged her one-year-old daughter, Tiffany.
I don’t care if I ever go to Primary again, Travis decided, looking away.
Now she was leaving. Travis’s stomach knotted up as the bishop read her name to be released. Staring at the podium, he raised his hand in a vote of thanks.
As Bishop Olson read names to be sustained to new callings, Travis gripped the bench in front of him. Who will be my new teacher? He wondered. It could be Brother Coty, probably the strongest man in the ward. Or maybe Sister Campbell. Every year she won a blue ribbon for her homemade pie at the state fair.
Travis sighed. It didn’t matter who his new teacher was—class would never be the same.
Bishop Olson shuffled through his papers at the podium. “We have called Brother Rolf Meyer as Valiant teacher in the Primary.”
Travis stared at the bishop. Brother Meyer! Travis was sure Bishop Olson had made a mistake. Brother Meyer had to be a hundred years old, and he walked with a cane. Because of his German accent, he was also a little hard to understand. Even so, Travis raised his hand to sustain his new teacher.
After sacrament meeting, Travis stopped to look out the large glass door in the foyer.
“Hello, Travis.”
Travis jerked around.
Smiling, Sister Stott moved Tiffany from one hip to the other. “I just wanted to tell you how much I’ve enjoyed being your teacher.”
Travis dug his shoe into the carpet as he looked away.
“Travis,” she said softly, “you’re going to learn a lot from Brother Meyer. You know that, don’t you?”
Shrugging, Travis slowly lifted his eyes to meet Sister Stott’s.
She placed her hand on Travis’s slumped shoulder. “Can I teach you one more thing before I leave?”
“Sure,” Travis muttered, wishing she hadn’t reminded him of her move.
Sister Stott bent slightly to be at eye level with Travis. “There are lots of ways to teach. If you give Brother Meyer a chance, just like you gave me, you’ll learn more than you’ve ever imagined.” Smiling, she stood up.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it,” Sister Stott said, nodding. “Remember it.”
“I will.” He pushed open the heavy door and ran across the parking lot to his family’s station wagon.
As he scanned the parking lot, the only other person outside was Jennifer Mizway, practically on her knees, staring at the rear tire of her mother’s car. Travis knew she had just gotten her driver’s license. Normally, he’d ask if he could help, but this afternoon he wasn’t in the mood.
The rear door of the meetinghouse opened, and out stepped Brother Meyer. He slowly made his way across the parking lot and called something to Jennifer. Reaching her car, he set his cane against it, then bent down to examine the tire.
Travis watched as Brother Meyer and Jennifer struggled to pull a spare tire out of the trunk of the car. The tire slipped from their hands, bouncing twice before falling with a thud in front of them.
“Brother Meyer, Jennifer,” Travis hollered, going over to the car, “let me help.”
“You know how to change tire?” Brother Meyer’s German accent brought life to his words.
“No,” Travis replied as he came up to them, “but you can tell me what to do.”
“Das ist gut (This is good)!” Brother Meyer nodded at Travis and signaled him to pull out the jack from the trunk.
Pumping the jack, Travis listened as Jennifer told them how grateful she was for their help. Her father had taken her mother home early with the flu, and they would worry that she’d had an accident if she was late getting home.
Travis stopped pumping to rub away the burning sensation in his upper arm.
“Here.” Brother Meyer handed his cane to Travis. “I show you a trick to help.” Bending on one knee, he pulled out the jack’s lever and inserted his cane into the opening where the lever had been. “My cane is longer. It will be easier to pump now.”
Travis began to pump again. A smile spread across his face as his arm moved faster with less effort. “It is easier!”
As Travis set the hubcap on the tire, he felt a thumping on his leg. Turning, he saw Brother Meyer smiling.
“Is good to help, ja (yes)?” Brother Meyer asked.
Travis smiled. “Yeah, it is. Well, I’d better get going.”
He and his father arrived at the station wagon at the same time.
“Is everything all right?” Father asked.
“Yep.”
“Your mother and I were worried. We know how you feel about Sister Stott. She was a special teacher, wasn’t she?”
“Yeah, she was.” Travis waved to Brother Meyer as he got into the car.
Rolling down his window, Travis thought about Jennifer dejectedly examining the tire. He thought about Brother Meyer tapping him with his cane, saying “Is good to help, ja?”
Valiant class was going to be different, Travis decided, but he had a feeling that one thing wouldn’t change—he was going to learn a lot this year.

Some time ago my wife and I were talking about a lesson she had to give. We spoke about the fact that although the lesson had one subject and several different aims, the only way you could get at it was to teach the Atonement. Then we realized that if you are teaching anything that matters, you are teaching about the Atonement.

John, our then-18-year-old son, was sitting there. I was waxing eloquent by saying that really great teachers would always know they were teaching basically about the Atonement. John then taught me something about proving. He told us about a seminary teacher. He said: “You know, Dad, he knew something. He knew that you could bear testimony to young people. You could teach that the Atonement is something they need. You could teach them that they need to have faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, to repent, and to be baptized. They need to feel the Holy Ghost. You can do all that, and they will hear you. But they may not believe you. They need to experience it before they will believe they need it.”

Then John described a teacher who had persuaded some students to prove something. The teacher’s challenge was to not go to inappropriate movies and to see whether the students could feel the effect in their lives. According to John’s report, they did. They could feel the companionship of the Holy Ghost returning.

John felt that all the sermons in the world trying to prove there was a Fall would not be nearly so effective as the person trying to do the right thing and then feeling the power of the Holy Ghost in his or her life. There is a difference we can feel between our fallen natures and our being lifted above them by the power of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and the effects of the Atonement.

In the Allentown Branch, Reading Pennsylvania Stake (USA), Tracy Norton, the Young Women president, and the young women in her ward used True to the Faith while studying the Articles of Faith, a project they hoped would give them confidence to share the gospel by helping them better understand the Church’s basic points of beliefs.
“I try to use True to the Faith for my lessons as much as possible and encourage the young women to use it with their questions,” Sister Norton said. “True to the Faith covers many topics relating to the struggles the youth face and offers the Church’s stance on those and other important topics. I believe it’s important to introduce a source they can go to for answers.”
Sister Norton believes that because they were able to focus on individual topics, the young women she teaches were better able to understand each principle.
“Using True to the Faith helped increase my understanding of the gospel and helped me have a stronger testimony,” said 14-year-old Genesis Felix, a member of the Allentown Branch. “I keep the book with my scriptures now and often use it to look up topics I don’t completely understand.”

There are times when the feeling of love and closeness is so real that you hardly dare breathe—a feeling of warmth and caring so vivid that it seems like a loving embrace drawing everyone together.
There are times when the first few notes of a special song that you’ve rehearsed early on Saturday mornings now send electric tickles down your spine and fill your eyes with tears as the words speak your innermost thoughts.
There are times when you become so much a part of the group that you feel like you’re seeing only the best, the finest, the most beautiful in each person. It is exhilarating when you meet each other’s glances and exchange knowing smiles because you’re all sharing the same sensation.
Such rare and precious times are the Young Women in Excellence programs to be held on a stake or ward level churchwide to present the seven values as they are incorporated in the lives of Young Women. The seven values—Faith, Divine Nature, Individual Worth, Integrity, Good Works, Knowledge, and Choice and Accountability—are the basis for programs that can include displays, performances, dramatic presentations, and workshops. The programs, whether held in the evening or on a Saturday morning, are a time for joy in each young woman’s accomplishment. It is a time for recognition of achieving goals. It is a chance for each young woman to examine where she is going and what her life means.
Lisa Ward of Long Beach, California, instinctively understands what the Young Women values mean in her life. “The Young Women program is not just a meeting you go to on Wednesday night or something you do on Sunday. It’s about your whole life, everything you do.”
Jill Ensley, also from Long Beach, agreed. “The values help us to teach ourselves.”
“The values help us learn how to set our goals,” said Edie Hess, Long Beach California East Stake, “to show us that there are things you can do on your own initiative.”
Several stakes have already planned and presented their Young Women in Excellence programs. The results were especially gratifying as parents and leaders saw their young women stretch and grow. Each girl had a chance to give some deep and searching thought as to what the values meant and how they affected her life. As Melodie Lamm, a Young Women leader in the Meridian Idaho East Stake, said, “These girls had experience in the values. It went deeper than just making something with your hands. It went much deeper than that.”
The Young Women in Excellence programs were organized in a variety of ways in individual stakes. The colors, representing the seven values, were used in flags, in banners, in ribbons on displays, in streamers on a maypole, and in decorations at luncheon tables. Some stakes held workshops that addressed the dilemmas facing the young women in their area. Some had a combination of displays and talent performances that illustrated values in the lives of each young woman. Others had each ward present one of the values in any way their creativity dictated.
In the Bountiful Utah Central Stake, a symposium introduced the morning’s activities and workshops. Wendy Wiscomb and her mother were assigned to organize the symposium. “My mother and I passed out sheets of paper to the girls in the stake asking them to honestly identify their concerns. Then we took the main problems and wrote them into the script. Some of the dialogue was in the exact words of the girls. For instance, one girl said, ‘I don’t even know what I’m going to wear to school tomorrow let alone what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.’ We talked about these problems. A number of girls told me afterward that it was really wonderful to hear relevant issues presented and later discussed in the workshops.”
Displays were another way that girls were able to illustrate a value. Amberlee Stephenson, a Beehive in the Nephi Utah Stake, used her waterski to represent her efforts at gaining a feeling of individual worth. On a tag attached to her ski, she wrote, “Waterskiing helps me learn that sometimes it takes more than one try to be successful. We can learn from our attempts and failures, and when we succeed it is that much better.”
Tara Cowan, in the Nephi Utah Stake, illustrated her special singing talent with a collection of her favorite music and the story of how she started singing to her mother’s clients as they sat under the dryer or were getting their hair washed in the beauty parlor. Then she performed as part of the talent segment of her stake’s program.
Lihann Jones, of Long Beach California East Stake, used muffins she had baked to talk about integrity. One set of muffins were light and appealing because all the ingredients were used. The others were dismal failures. She wrote, “These muffins reflect a lack of integrity because certain ingredients were left out, making them incomplete, unfinished, and awful.”
Families were certainly involved as young women began planning and preparing for their parts in the programs. Often, working with the values led fathers and daughters or mothers and daughters to have meaningful, enriching conversations. Margaret Miller, stake Young Women president in the Long Beach California East Stake, said that one father told her his daughter and wife sat up late just laughing and enjoying being together as a result of working on the girl’s display.
Jonne Wheadon, stake Young Women president of the Meridian Idaho East Stake, said a woman reported that her husband and daughter had a special experience talking about and researching more information about her great-grandmother.
And families sometimes gave a little sigh of relief when the event was over. One father from the Nephi Utah Stake, obviously pleased by his daughter’s efforts, was overheard at the conclusion of the program saying, “That was great, and now we can have the kitchen table back.”
Participation was excellent, often more than expected. As girls thought about their projects and began work on them, the excitement seemed to spread and the more reluctant ones were drawn in. Vicki Jackson, stake Young Women president of the Nephi Utah Stake, said that one young girl tagged along with friends who were practicing with the chorus to sing “I Walk by Faith.” The girl asked if she could sing with the group. Then as she became more involved, she volunteered to participate in the talent presentations.” The stories of girls who were not participating fully in their wards yet became involved with the projects or displays were the ones that helped leaders see the great value of the program.
But most importantly, the Young Women in Excellence program was a catalyst for growth and introspection. Girls took each value, at first holding it cautiously, a little unsure of just what to do; then with increasing confidence turned it over in their minds as they probed for ways it worked in their lives. It seemed that each girl who participated could say, without hesitation, “I struggled, but I grew.”
And then there was that feeling, that sense of oneness, the all-encompassing embrace that validates the effort and the work.
Sister Wheadon put her arms around some girls after their program as they together treasured the feeling. She told them, “If things start to slide and life seems to get too tough, you call me and we’ll talk about this day and remember how we felt.”
“For my project on Divine Nature, I prepared a special book that included memories of my father. He was killed in an accident when I was three. I talked to people who knew him and came to understand more about him. My family was sealed in the temple, and I am thankful that I know about the eternal plan and that I’ll see my father again.”
Jamie TaylorNephi Utah Stake
“I chose Good Works. Service means you do things for people. We went to the hospital and put on a puppet show for the children. They really liked it, and we felt good because we were helping someone to be happy. They smiled a lot.”
Deborah Del BelloLong Beach California East Stake
“I’m the only LDS person on the swim team. When this program came along, it seemed natural to set a goal in swimming. I frequently set goals in competitive swimming. I decided I wanted to work hard and swim the 100-meter freestyle in 1:06. I had been doing a 1:09. I worked and worked. When we had invitationals, I was in a relay and I did a 1:06:91. This helped my feeling of individual worth.”
Shawna UlmerLong Beach California East Stake
“About a year ago I started bringing my best friend, Tami, out to church, especially Mutual activities. I’ve brought other friends to church, and they were interested in the activities, but Tami was more interested in the gospel. I knew that she would believe. It added to my faith as she gained hers. Pretty soon she started asking me questions, and I couldn’t answer them all. So the missionaries taught her the lessons, and she set a date and was baptized.”
Cami CriddleLong Beach California East Stake
“Cami asked me if I wanted to go to church. At first I thought, no, I didn’t really want to. Then I decided that since I hadn’t been baptized into any church, I ought to start looking around and seeing what I believe in. I went with Cami, and the things I was taught I believed, so I started going to church more often. When I had the missionary lessons, I felt I was ready to be baptized.”
Tami HowellLong Beach California East Stake
“For the value, Choice and Accountability, I made a game called, ‘The Choice Is Right, or Is It?’ I used my sticker collection to add pictures to the board. When you are consciously thinking of right or wrong, it’s much easier to make a right choice. Although it took lots of time to make my game, it was worth it. My whole family got involved in discussing decisions that teenagers have to make every day. And my mother and sister have noticed that I think more carefully about the consequences before I make decisions now.”
Cheri EverettMeridian Idaho East Stake
“I love to write about the things I love. One night I wrote about my horse, Missy. I had been having a hard time keeping her in the pen. The dogs were barking, so I went out to check on Missy, and she was out. It was a beautiful night with lots of stars. I could see her clearly, and she stood quietly while I put the halter on. I started to cry, I was so disappointed. It was like I was seeing how my parents feel when I disobey. I just hurt inside because I don’t like to tie her up. I explained that to her, and I felt she understood me and was sad that she had disobeyed. I forgave her and told her how much I love her. I know that my Father in Heaven loves and cares about me and how I feel. I am grateful to have Missy to help me learn the things I need to learn in life. I am grateful Heavenly Father has given me the family that he has and am grateful for each one of them and all they have done for me.”
Camille KenisonNephi Utah Stake
“Since I am the oldest with all sisters, we have lots of dolls without too many doll clothes. I started designing and making doll clothes for my sisters. Then for this project, I decided to try to make a dress from a pattern. I made a pink dress for my littlest sister, Molly Sue, with a fluffy skirt that she can twirl. It turned out really well and made me feel good about trying. I wanted to know that I could do it to increase my feelings of individual worth.”
Stephanie HowardNephi Utah Stake
“I encouraged my brothers and sisters to participate in a bike-a-thon for cancer research. We also did it to remember our friend Stan Miller. He died last year of leukemia. We rode around Rossmoor Park, and our sponsors donated money for every mile we rode. Among us we earned $250 for the hospital. When we got done, I felt good. I want to do it every year.”
Kacie SeamonsLong Beach California East Stake
“Each week for several weeks I gave a lady with five children in our ward a few hours to herself. Babysitting five kids is not easy. At times I could have pulled my hair out, but I survived and without losing my temper. I helped the children each transfer one of their drawings onto a quilt block, and we made a special quilt for their mother. Doing good works for someone else gave me a warm feeling inside.”
Heather BellMeridian Idaho East Stake
“For my project on Knowledge, I tape-recorded my grandparents telling their stories one evening. I was interested to know things about their lives; what trials and struggles they had and what joys. I learned things I hadn’t known before. It was a neat evening.”
Susan FanninLong Beach California East Stake
“To represent Faith, I drew this picture of my Savior. I looked into his eyes and his kind, compassionate face and gained a better understanding of the tremendous sacrifice he made for us.”
Holly PetersonMeridian Idaho East Stake
“I wanted to put something together out of wood so I could work with my dad. We cut a piece of walnut from a tree at my grandfather’s home. His land was formerly the old Wells Fargo station. My grandfather, as well as my own father, is a great example of the meaning of the word integrity. This plaque will always be a reminder of integrity to me because of where the wood has come from and the talents my father has shared with me.”
Tammy FarmerMeridian Idaho East Stake

Several months later, with my mother’s story crowded into the recesses of my mind by school and work, I received an assignment in one of my classes at Brigham Young University to find 8 to 10 primary documents containing the name of one of my ancestors.
My genealogical training to that point consisted of singing the Primary song “Family History—I Am Doing It,” but grades weren’t negotiable in my mind, so I began at the only place I could think to start—Orla’s family. I looked her up on a pedigree chart and traced her line back until I found her grandfather, Joseph Argyle Jr.
One afternoon, I made the trek across the BYU campus to the library and into the family history library. I explained to a worker who Joseph Argyle was and the little information I knew about him.
For the next two hours, that worker guided me through a treasure hunt, which took us all over the library. We searched records of Mormon passengers on emigrant vessels, discovering that Joseph and his family crossed the Atlantic on a ship. Later that year, he traveled to Salt Lake Valley with the Ellsworth handcart company, which we found in a record book of handcart companies. We looked through the Endowment House records (found where he received his temple ordinances), the Utah death index (he lived to 84), and old Church membership records (there he was).
In an online database of Utah newspaper archives, I found a front-page obituary for my great-great-great grandfather. Published in the Davis County Clipper in February 1927, every sentence contained an interesting fact, such as Joseph’s contribution to the building of the Salt Lake Temple.
“He has the credit of having hauled the largest stone put in that building which weighed 13,000 pounds,” the article read.
I began to get a glimpse of the impact we can have on future generations when I discovered he had 88 descendants at the time of his death, a number which increased exponentially in the past 79 years.
Every time I found another document with my ancestors’ names on it, I felt a little tingle of excitement run through my body. It was like a mystery novel, putting all the pieces together, little by little beginning to understand who this man was. I became so immersed in learning about my ancestor, I didn’t leave until late in the afternoon, almost missing work!
I completed the assignment and received an A, but even more importantly, I created a tangible connection with one of my relatives. Joseph Argyle left his home, sailed across the ocean, traveled to Utah and helped build the temple, all because he believed in the gospel of Jesus Christ, a legacy which I inherited and which gives me the strength to fight my own battles in the 21st century.

“My father was the greatest influence on me. He was such an example of one who quietly serves! He would sit back and listen to everybody’s opinion and then make a wise judgment. One day I decided I didn’t want go to sacrament meeting. My father wasn’t alarmed. He only said, ‘Just remember that when you don’t go once, it’s easier not to go the next time. That’s how we can fall into bad habits. I would suggest that you go every time, and then you won’t have to keep remaking that choice.’ That’s all it took. I didn’t argue with him, and I didn’t feel unhappy about going to church that day—or any other day. And l’ve always remembered that advice when I’ve been tempted.

Another friend of mine, whom I will call Frank, reached out to me in my role with the Alzheimer’s Association a few years ago while he was serving as a bishop. He was concerned about several members of his ward who had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease and suspected that others had some form of undiagnosed dementia. Frank was anxious to meet the needs of these ward members and support other members serving as caregivers. Unaware of any resources, he turned to me out of desperation with a plea for help.
We arranged for a presentation to his ward’s empty-nester home evening group. Normally about 25 people attended this monthly activity. After it was announced that the presentation would be about Alzheimer’s disease, more than 100 people attended. Many were concerned about getting Alzheimer’s disease but weren’t sure what it is or how they might be able to reduce their risk.
During this meeting, I shared a wide variety of tools available through the Alzheimer’s Association and from other community sources.
As I shared these resources with Frank’s ward council, other members, and caregivers, he observed increased support for and engagement with those members affected by Alzheimer’s and other dementias in his ward and stronger support for caregivers. Increased knowledge can make all the difference!

Tourists who come to Alice Springs, Australia, are usually on their way to the outback, the rough-and-tumble red rock wonderland that embodies the spirit of the continent down under.
But for Latter-day Saint teens who live here, Alice is more than a jumping-off point. It’s home, a small, laid-back town where everybody seems to know everybody, where LDS youth are well known because of the things they’ve done. For example:
Many of the LDS kids in Alice attend St. Philip’s, a private school run by another church. Like most Australian schools, St. Philip’s has a strict dress code. Everyone must wear uniforms, and there are even rules about jewelry—only one pair of earrings, no bracelets, no rings.
That was the rub for the Mormon kids—no rings. Like many Latter-day Saints worldwide, they like to wear CTR rings. But they were told to remove them, even though exceptions had been made before for jewelry with “religious significance.”
“I’d explain why it was important to me,” says Lavinia Archibald, 16. “But one of my teachers kept saying to take it off or she’d confiscate it.”
The LDS students and their parents (including branch president Mark Webster) talked to the principal, who knew the LDS youth as some of his best students. He talked to the faculty, explained that CTR stands for “choose the right,” and gave his approval for Latter-day Saints to wear the rings.
“Now the teacher is fine about it,” Lavinia says. “She’ll have you reach your hand out, then say, ‘Ah, you’re allowed.’”
But that isn’t the only thing that’s getting LDS students noticed. In their religion classes (which are required in Australian schools), the Mormons keep volunteering to give the prayers, and they always know the subject matter.
“The principal and my father are friends,” Yasmin Webster, 12, explains. “He would come up to my dad and say, ‘What am I going to do about my religion classes? Your Mormon kids know as much as the teachers!’”
“We were studying New Testament in early-morning seminary, then the same thing in religion class at school,” says Steven Yeckley, 15. “We knew all the stories. We knew the answers. One teacher even invited me to teach the class the story of Saul.”

The rest of the day, I was a little subdued. We came home, and I found out that a friend had been badly hurt while riding his bike. He had been riding with another group and had gone off the edge of an embankment. He had tried to ride it out. I guess he hadn’t had time to make a decision. He ended up with multiple fractures in both arms. The doctor told him he would never be able to do much manual labor the rest of his life. He would be limited in what he could do.
That really drove home to me how grateful I was for having made my decision ahead of time. I had already visualized what I would do in the safety of my garage. So when the moment of danger came, I reacted just as I had imagined. I let the bike go and saved myself from injury.
I realized that in other areas, if I decided early in life what I was going to do, when I was faced with the dilemma there would be less problem choosing the right because the decision would already have been made.

We help ourselves as we help each other. A family I know lived near a busy road. Travelers often stopped to ask for help. Early one morning the family heard loud pounding on their door. Tired and worried who it would be at 2:00 a.m., they wondered if, just this once, someone else could help. As the insistent knocking continued, they heard, “Fire—there’s a fire in the back of your house!” Good Samaritans help each other.

Once again the neighboring communities came to resent the Saints because of their strength, prosperity, and political influence. The Nauvoo Expositor, a local newspaper, added to the Saints’ trouble by printing lies about the Church leaders.

On June 10, 1844, a group of men under orders from the city council destroyed the newspaper’s press. Joseph and some of the other brethren were charged with inciting a riot, but were later found not guilty.

Governor Ford wanted Joseph to be tried again at Carthage, Illinois.

Joseph felt that if he went there, he would probably be killed, so on June 23, 1855, he rowed across the Mississippi River to avoid arrest. In a letter, Emma pleaded with him to return and surrender. Joseph also learned that some of the Saints were calling him a coward for leaving. “If my life is of no value to my friends,” he said, “it is of none to myself.” He returned to Nauvoo, and on Monday, June 24, he and the others charged in the case went to Carthage to surrender.

When they got to Carthage, they were released on bail until a circuit court judge could hear the case. Joseph and Hyrum went to talk to Governor Ford. While there, they were re-arrested on charges of treason.

Joseph and Hyrum were again jailed; John Taylor and Willard Richards went with them.

On June 27, 1844, shortly after 5:00 P.M., a mob rushed up the jail stairs to the room where the prisoners were being held. The culprits tried to break through the door, but were unable to. Shooting through the door, they hit Hyrum, who fell, saying, “I am a dead man.”

Joseph went to the window where he was shot twice from inside the building and twice more from outside. He fell out of the window to the ground and died. John Taylor was shot four times and lay under a bed, severely wounded. Willard Richards was not injured during the shooting.

After the martyrdom, John Taylor wrote, “Joseph Smith, the Prophet and Seer of the Lord, has done more, save Jesus only, for the salvation of men in this world, than any other man that ever lived in it. … He lived great, and he died great in the eyes of God and his people; and like most of the Lord’s anointed in ancient times, has sealed his mission and his works with his own blood. …” (D&C 135:3).

When I moved away from home and started my life as an adult, I needed to find a lot of answers. I particularly struggled to know how to understand my relationship with the priesthood as a woman. I heard contradictory statements from friends, ward members, and online sources. I felt confused and unsatisfied by the answers that others gave me to explain the role of women in the Church.

The question kept coming back to me: I know that God loves me equally, but how can I feel equal to men when I have a different role? I couldn’t help but feel like having a different role meant having a lesser role. Dwelling on these questions felt like starting up the mountain at 1:00 a.m. I couldn’t see the answer yet, and searching felt dark, cold, and discouraging.

In the October 2019 general conference, President Russell M. Nelson issued an invitation, specifically directed to the women of the Church: “I entreat you to study prayerfully all the truths you can find about priesthood power.” He encouraged us to understand how we could have the same access to priesthood power as a man could. Here was a prophetic invitation to ask my questions and then devote time to studying them. President Nelson promised that as we did so prayerfully, our ability to draw upon priesthood power in our lives would increase.

Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has said: “Asking questions isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s a precursor of growth. God commands us to seek answers to our questions and asks only that we seek ‘with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ’ [Moroni 10:4].”

Understanding that I could have faith and have questions was key for me as I began to search for an answer. It helped me remember what I did know: God loves me; He speaks through His prophets; He wants me to feel joy. By starting my search based on this foundation, I was able to turn to good sources that I had already gained a testimony of. Specifically, there were talks by President Nelson, President Dallin H. Oaks, and other General Authorities that all taught the same truths and helped me understand how God feels about me.

The sections in the Doctrine and Covenants mentioned by President Nelson (sections 84 and 107) gave me another starting point. I could lean on the testimony I had already gained of the scriptures to support my fledgling understanding of truths about the role and value of women in God’s plan. I felt grateful for trusted family members, friends, and ward leaders who offered their thoughts and let me bounce ideas off them. It helped me the most when they would point me to other helpful resources that I could read for myself instead of giving me their opinions.

I spent many hours reading and praying. Prayer helped me keep my eyes on Heavenly Father; I felt His love for me through the process of asking Him questions. Through my studies, here are just a few of the truths I learned:
I have direct access to the power of God as I keep my covenants.
I am given authority from God to act in my calling when I am set apart by someone with the proper priesthood authority.
I received a gift of God’s priesthood power when I was endowed in the temple and a knowledge of how to draw upon that power.
I can experience exaltation and return to live with God someday if I keep His commandments (see Doctrine and Covenants 25:15).

I received peace and clarity as I searched for answers to my question. While I can communicate some of the truths I learned and my process for coming to an answer, the full answer was impressed upon my soul in a way that is difficult to explain. I refer to the experience of learning these truths as a sacred struggle. As I dedicated time to pray about my questions and wrestle with them, I created space for God to teach me.

What started as an area of confusion and darkness led to specific, quiet experiences with God as the Spirit distilled knowledge or increased my patience. I have faith as I approach other questions that I can work with my Heavenly Father to feel more peace and confidence in His plan. Now I try to support those around me in their sacred struggles so that they can come to know eternal truths by the spirit of revelation.

What makes a job tough often comes down to your preferences. For Mindy F., a couple of tasks at a pizza parlor made her job one of the hardest she’d ever had.
“I absolutely hated talking to people on the phone!” she says. “I always wanted to be in the back making pizzas and let the other people answer the phone.”
However, this was a small pizza parlor. Mindy often worked alone while the one other employee on duty was out on delivery, which meant Mindy had to answer phones. “It’s such a silly thing, but I hated doing it,” she says.
Something else she hated was knocking on doors for deliveries. Even though customers had called for pizza, she still didn’t like approaching their homes. “It was so awkward just knocking on a random stranger’s door,” she says.
Mindy had only taken the job to fill the six weeks between coming home from college and her mission. And yet, it’s amazing how a few weeks of practice can help you improve at something. By the end of her six weeks, Mindy felt much more comfortable on the phone and with door approaches.
At the MTC, Mindy was answering phones in the referral center with confidence. Door approaches were also a big part of her mission. And the pizza job had helped with those skills.
“This job gave me practice with some of the things I’d be doing on my mission,” she says. Talk about an unexpected blessing!

When Stéphane Rasorotsoa lost his grandfather, who was his last known family member, he was inspired to move to Toamasina to find work. He met the missionaries there, who invited him to attend an English class. He was not very interested in learning English, but something made him accept the invitation. Then, an unexpected phone call from someone he did not know invited him to move to Tolagnaro, and an unexplained desire to find his family prompted him to respond to that invitation. In Tolagnaro, he discovered the same Church as the one where he learned English in Toamasina, was taught by the missionaries, joined the Church, later found his mother in Antananarivo, and was prompted to serve a mission. He is now serving in the Madagascar Antananarivo Mission and is clearly blessed with the gift of tongues.5

ARE YOU WEAK AND PUNY?
DO BULLIES PUSH YOU AROUND? BE THE STRONGEST BOY IN TOWN!
ORDER MR. HERCULES’ BODYBUILDING COURSE TODAY!!
SEND NO MONEY! ABSOLUTELY NO OBLIGATION!
Tracy sat in her bedroom, tugging at the end of a pigtail as she studied the advertisement in the comic book. In the ad were two photographs. The photo labeled “Before” showed a skinny boy with arms and legs like sticks. The other, labeled “After,” showed the same boy with enormous muscles popping out all over his body.
“Wow!” Tracy said. “I bet no one pushes him around anymore!” She thought of Buster Bailey, who liked to bully her as she walked home from school.
“I wish I could take Mr. Hercules’ free bodybuilding course. Then I’d really get Buster Bailey. But it’s only for boys.”
Tracy sprang up. “I know!” She tore out the ad and printed her name as only “T. Allison.” She addressed and stamped on envelope and put the ad inside it.
“Where are you going?” her mother called from the kitchen as Tracy opened the front door.
“For a walk,” Tracy said. She felt funny about not telling her mother what she was doing, but she didn’t want her to know about Buster Bailey. Her mother had enough to worry about. Tracy’s father had had an operation and was recovering very slowly. He had to stay in bed most of the time.
Tracy walked to the mailbox at the corner. I’m eleven years old, she thought. I can handle my own problems.
The next afternoon Buster was waiting for her as usual with his bike at the opposite end of the bridge. Tracy took a firm grip on her books and walked as fast as she could, pretending not to see him. But when she reached the center of the bridge, he got on his bike and headed straight for her, pedaling as fast as he could. She stopped and gritted her teeth. Within inches of running into her, Buster skidded sideways.
“I’m king of the bridge!” he shouted. “On your knees, peasant, and beg for safe passage, or I’ll throw your books into the river.”
Even though Buster was bigger than anyone else in their class, Tracy stood her ground and tried not to show that she was scared. She thought of the bodybuilding course. “You just wait, Buster Bailey,” she said. “One of these days I’m going to get you!”
“Bookworm,” he jeered. “Teacher’s pet.” After a few minutes of popping wheelies, he let her pass.
Every afternoon when Tracy got home, she stayed close to the front door and watched for the letter carrier. Luckily for her, the mail was delivered late in the day. A week after she sent in the ad, a bulky brown envelope addressed to Mr. T. Allison arrived. Tracy ran up the stairs to her room, shut the door, and opened the envelope.
Inside she found a letter, also a series of booklets titled Mr. Hercules’ Bodybuilding Course, filled with instructions and pictures of Mr. Hercules doing exercises, each more advanced than in the preceding booklet. Tracy didn’t understand all the words in the letter, but she understood the last line: “Please remit $45.00 within thirty days.”
Forty-five dollars! How could she possibly get forty-five dollars? She emptied her piggy bank on the bed and counted the money. Six dollars and thirty-eight cents. She couldn’t ask her parents for the money because they had lots of doctor’s bills. When she didn’t pay, would the police arrest her? Maybe Mr. Hercules himself would come looking for her!
That night she prayed for a miracle, and the next morning she woke up with an idea. She asked the neighbors if she could work for them. She weeded their gardens, swept their sidewalks, and washed their screens. She did errands and baby-sat. She saved every penny.
I’m working so hard, Tracy thought, I have a right to use the exercises. So every morning before breakfast and every night before bedtime, she took a booklet from the closet shelf where she kept them hidden and did the exercises. At first her muscles ached and she got tired after just a few minutes. She couldn’t do even one push-up. But she kept at it, and each day she could exercise a little longer. Soon she felt herself growing stronger.
The trouble is, Tracy thought as she walked home from school one afternoon, the exercises haven’t solved my problem with Buster Bailey. He’s always riding his bike, so I can’t get near enough to use my new muscles on him. She stepped onto the bridge and saw him waiting at the other end. When she reached the middle, he started toward her, coming faster and faster. This time he really would run into her! She jumped to one side. Buster twisted his wheel to stay in front of her, but the bike spun out of control and he was flung onto the pavement.
“Serves you right!” Tracy shouted.
Buster tried to get up and fell back, moaning. “My leg, my leg!”
Was he pretending? Maybe it was some sort of trick. But when she saw that he was crying, Tracy knew that he really was hurt. Buster would never cry, especially in front of a girl, if he could help it. “I’ll go get help,” she said.
“No! Don’t leave me, please!”
Tracy stared. “Why not?”
Gulping back his sobs, Buster blurted, “There’s this guy in sixth grade who’s out to get me. If he catches me off my bike …”
Tracy bit her tongue. Forgive your enemies, she reminded herself. She put down her books and helped Buster to his feet. “Lean on my shoulder, and try hopping on your good foot,” she told him. “My house is just down the street.”
They progressed very slowly toward Tracy’s house. She kept hoping that a car would stop and help them, but the street was deserted. “You’re heavy,” she said.
“And you’re strong,” he said, “for a girl.”
When they finally reached Tracy’s house, her mother took one look at Buster and phoned his home. While they were waiting for his father to arrive, Tracy’s mother asked what had happened. One thing led to another, and soon Tracy was pouring out the whole story about Buster, the body-building course, and the work she’d been doing to earn money.
“Wow!” Buster said. He was lying on the couch, his injured leg resting on pillows.
When Tracy showed her mother the book-lets, the letter, and the bill from Mr. Hercules, her mother frowned worriedly. “This is a big bill, Tracy. How much have you saved?”
Tracy tugged at a pigtail. “I only have twenty-seven dollars and thirty cents so far.”
“That was a very unwise thing to do, Tracy. Let’s write to Mr. Hercules and send him what you have,” her mother said. “When he learns the whole story”—she looked at Buster—“he might let you pay the rest when you can.”
To Tracy’s great relief, that’s exactly what Mr. Hercules agreed to.
Finally Tracy was able to pay her bill, but she learned a good lesson. Mr. Bailey asked Tracy to help Buster with summer school so that he could be promoted into fourth grade with the rest of their class, and Buster genuinely appreciated her help. Tracy was glad to help him—but this certainly wasn’t the way that she had planned to get Buster Bailey!

Last year during a trip to Europe, I visited my old place of employment, Lufthansa German Airlines at the Frankfurt Airport.
To train their pilots, they operate several sophisticated full-motion flight simulators that can re-create almost any normal and emergency flight condition. During my many years as an airline captain, I had to pass a check flight in the flight simulator every six months to keep my pilot license current. I remember well those intense moments of stress and anxiety but also the feeling of accomplishment after passing the test. I was young then and loved the challenge.
During my visit, one of the Lufthansa executives asked if I would like to give it a try again and fly the 747 simulator one more time.
Before I had time to fully process the question, I heard a voice—sounding astonishingly like my own—saying, “Yes, I would like that very much.”
As soon as I said the words, a tsunami of thoughts flooded my mind. It had been a long time since I flew a 747. Back then I was young and a confident captain. Now I had a reputation to live up to as a former chief pilot. Would I embarrass myself in front of these professionals?
But it was too late to back down, so I settled into the captain’s seat, placed my hands on the familiar and beloved controls, and felt, once again, the exhilaration of flight as the big jet roared down the runway and took off into the wild blue yonder.
I’m happy to say that the flight was successful, the aircraft remained intact, and so did my self-image.
Even so, the experience was humbling for me. When I was in my prime, flying had become almost second nature. Now it took all my concentration to do the basic things.
My experience in the flight simulator was an important reminder that getting good at anything—whether it be flying, rowing, sowing, or knowing—takes consistent self-discipline and practice.

One day last year, my friend invited me to his house to have a tea party with him and his sisters. I thought they would have pretend tea at their party. Instead, they offered me real tea with honey. I remembered a story I had read about President David O. McKay. Once when he visited the queen of the Netherlands, the queen offered him tea. He politely refused it. I knew that if tea isn’t good for a prophet, it isn’t good for me.

I remember as a young man receiving in my home two young men. (Strangely enough, they had the same first name: Elder!) They showed our family the Book of Mormon, a divine evidence of the Lord’s care and love for his children. They declared to our family the message of the restoration of the gospel, the divine sonship of Christ, the divine mission of Joseph Smith, and the divinity of this church. Their message and their willingness to follow the prophet’s call changed our lives.

I live in New South Wales, Australia, where we are blessed with some of the most beautiful beaches in the world. Golden sand and crystal blue waters grace our coastlines. A favorite pastime for me and my friends is walking along a nearby beach. While walking we talk and enjoy each other’s company.
One afternoon, when we had enjoyed the day, a friend of mine noticed that a locket I usually wear was missing from around my neck. I was particularly fond of the locket since my grandmother had given it to me as a special birthday present.
I frantically searched up and down the beach looking for my prized possession but to no avail. Soon my friends realized my distress and joined in the search. After searching for a while, one of my friends suggested we have a prayer.
By now it was nearly dusk and the incoming tide was growing higher. Kneeling in the sand, we asked Heavenly Father to guide us to my locket. As we rose one of my friends headed for a part of the beach we had already combed. “It can’t be there,” I said. “We’ve already searched every grain of sand.” Still my friend continued on his way up the beach while the rest of us maintained the search.
The next thing I knew, my friend was running down the beach with a grin from ear to ear. He had found my locket and rescued it from the tide just in time.
It was a simple thing, maybe even a little bit trivial, but Heavenly Father knew it was important to me. Just after we found the locket, I realized something. If Heavenly Father answered a prayer about something as small as a piece of jewelry, surely He would answer prayers about more important things, like times when I need guidance to make good decisions or strengthen my testimony.
Now I know that when I pray, the answers will come. I just have to listen.

My MTC experience testified to me the power of prayer. The night before I left for MTC I prayed, asking God to guide good people who would prepare me to serve as a good missionary. I received that blessing at the MTC in the Caribbean area office. Wise words were given to me from leaders, people in the offices, and in the temple where I learned more about our Savior, Jesus Christ. Answers to my prayer came through others that gave me confidence and knowledge to be a good missionary. This is my testimony that I enjoy sharing with people.