Gospel Story Finder

Cambodian. Laotian. Vietnamese. I don’t speak any of these languages, thought Elizabeth Dutton of Dallas, Texas. Two weeks after becoming a Beehive, she received a rather unusual assignment for a girl of 12. She was called, along with the rest of her family, to be a stake missionary in a Dallas Asian branch.
Initially, Elizabeth had a few worries. With all the different languages, how would she communicate with people? And as a new Beehive, how could she help new converts adjust to Young Women when she had only been there a couple of weeks herself? She didn’t know the answers. But Elizabeth, determined to face the challenge, agreed to serve.
Her first Sunday in the Asian branch turned out to be, well … incredible. “When we first went, we were welcomed with open arms. Everyone was really friendly,” says Elizabeth.
As it turned out, many of the youth in the branch spoke English, and the adults who didn’t still made efforts to befriend her. Missionaries and ward members translated sacrament meetings into Laotian, Cambodian, Vietnamese, and English, so everyone could understand the speakers. At first, one of the biggest adjustments was simply figuring out when to say amen after prayers, which are not always translated.
For her younger sister, Alice, attending a branch where some members wear headphones to hear translated talks and where cultures from around the world come together is seriously fun. “It’s small and friendly and all the people are very close. It’s neat because you get to know a lot about different cultures,” says Alice.
Five years have passed since the Duttons were called as stake missionaries. Now Elizabeth, 16, and Alice, 15, know exactly when to say amen, but they still have much to discover. For example, one of Alice’s favorite cultural learning experiences is the branch’s monthly potluck dinner. The dinners give her a chance to load up on egg rolls and sticky rice and to interact with the 20 or so young people in the branch.
In a branch with many recent converts, the girls have had several opportunities to fellowship new members and to do missionary work. After Elizabeth had been a stake missionary for about a year and a half, one of her Cambodian friends from elementary school began investigating the Church. Missionaries asked Elizabeth to attend the discussions to support her friend, Phally Chhim. Elizabeth happily agreed, and a few months later Phally was baptized.
Elizabeth and Alice say they are just following the example of missionary service set by their older siblings. Their two older sisters, Catherine and Deborah, as well as their brother Daniel, are serving missions. Also, the girls feel a special desire to serve because their own parents were introduced to the gospel by missionaries many years ago. “Missionary work is important in our family, because if our parents hadn’t met the missionaries, none of us would be members,” says Alice.
Spending time together is important for the Dutton girls because they attend different high schools during the week. Alice, who wants to be a pediatrician, is a sophomore at the High School for Health Professions at Townview Center; and Elizabeth, who plans to major in agriculture at Texas A&M, is a junior at Dallas’ Skyline High School. And although they don’t see each other all that much during the week, they do have Sundays. Both sisters agree that their work in the Asian branch has blessed their family.
“I think it has brought us closer together,” says Elizabeth.
And their callings have also brought them closer to Church members they otherwise may never have met. “I just really like the people,” says Alice. “Even though you are listening to a translation from the elders, you can feel the speakers’ testimonies through the Spirit.”
“When they call us back [to our home ward], I’m hoping I don’t have to go,” Elizabeth adds with a laugh.
Whether the girls are tying white yarn around people’s wrists for good luck during the Laotian New Year or smacking their lips in appreciation for a Cambodian dinner, their five-year calling has taught them to appreciate different cultures. They have also learned that the gospel can bring people of different backgrounds together. Although the girls still occasionally struggle to find the right word or right motion to communicate with a member who speaks another language, they say it doesn’t matter. Take it from Alice, who says, “This experience has helped me because you learn that everyone is a daughter or son of our Heavenly Father.”

The loving example of Ghanaian members has a powerful effect on their friends and families.
Phillip Ohene, now serving as clerk of the Koforidua Second Branch, says his LDS employer “talked to me about the Church through his actions. He would tell me the thing, and I would see him doing it himself.” This example helped Phillip decide to investigate the gospel. In shaping people’s attitudes about the Church, he says, “What they hear is not so important. It is what they see.”

When Dale was 11, his father, a skilled carpenter and builder, was called to serve as a building missionary in Sweden for three years. The family spent time in Helsinki, Finland, and Gothenburg, Sweden. They attended a small branch of the Church, and the children attended Swedish public schools. Dale’s sister Anita M. Renlund, who is one year younger than her brother, recalls one of the difficulties in the transition: “This was initially a shock to us because, even though we spoke Swedish at home, we did not know the grammar or spelling of the language.” As a boy Dale had a testimony-strengthening experience after reading the Book of Mormon. The mission president in Sweden had invited the young men of the Aaronic Priesthood to read the Book of Mormon, so Dale’s older brother, Gary, who was 12 at the time, accepted the challenge. Eleven-year-old Dale also took the challenge. After reading the Book of Mormon, he prayed and asked if it was true. Elder Renlund recalls, “I had a distinct impression: ‘I’ve been telling you all along that it’s true.’ And that was an amazing experience.” Dale and his siblings—Gary, Anita, and Linda—remember that when the family moved back to the United States, they continued to speak and pray in Swedish. They also recall their parents’ remarkable emphasis on scripture knowledge. They said, “The best way to make a point with our parents was by using scriptures.” Anita jokes, “Knowing the scriptures in our family was a survival skill; it was not optional.” Remarkably, both Gary and Dale were called to serve in the Swedish Mission at the same time. They were never companions, but both were able to use their Swedish-speaking skills to serve the Lord as missionaries for over two years. Elder Renlund describes his mission as a lot of work but a wonderful experience: “It was life-changing in terms of commitment and deciding to do the best one can to be a disciple of Christ.”

One Christmas Eve while we lived in the Philippines, my father came home early from his work as a chaplain at Clark Air Base.
“Hey, Tam,” he said, “I need you to make cookies and practice Christmas songs on your guitar. Also, gather items for Nativity costumes. We’re going to spend the evening in the brig.”
I was still angry at my parents for moving our family across the world. The last thing I wanted to do was spend Christmas Eve in a military jail. I complained but to no avail.
When we entered the brig, we were led to a stark room with chairs and a table. Soon a door opened, and my father warmly invited a group of shackled and handcuffed men into the room.
Then we sang Christmas songs, reenacted Luke 2, and enjoyed homemade treats—the same things we would have done at home. But something was different.
My adolescent heart softened that night as I witnessed the humble gratitude of those dear men. One of them, referring to our Nativity reenactment, asked, “Can I be in it too?” Others also wanted to join. Soon, additional “angels” heralded the Savior’s special birth.
Those prisoners were not where they wanted to be, and I was in a country where I did not want to be. But I knew we were seen, known, and loved by our Savior, who had also been in a place from which He humbly sought removal (see Luke 22:42). In my 16-year-old heart, I knew I was not alone.
Those men were not the only ones who wiped away tears that Christmas Eve. The life-changing event that evening was not our Christmas celebration but rather Christ’s power to lift and heal.
It’s been almost 50 years since that Christmas Eve, but it remains a sacred memory. My most special, unexpected, and glorious Christmas gift was a new heart. Everything changed for me after that.
I embraced life in the Philippines, made new friends, found ways to serve, and chose to be happy—all because of the witness I received of Jesus Christ and His powerful love that Christmas Eve in the brig.
I know that our Savior can remove the shackles from our minds and our hearts as we come to Him. He is our greatest gift.

Brother Braden’s involvement in important family events isn’t just because he wants to be involved. During the fast and testimony meeting when our oldest daughter, Jane, was to be confirmed, she restlessly searched the congregation for him, not satisfied—even though she was surrounded by her own family—until she saw Brother Braden come in late from another meeting and take the seat nearest to the back door. She knew that he had given up other plans to be with her and that he was glad to do so. When Jane’s name was called, she walked down the aisle to Brother Braden, and the two of them came hand in hand to the circle where she would be confirmed to share one of the most important moments of her life.

But there were also times when I felt overcome by grief and worry. How could I manage without my husband’s companionship? How could I fulfill the responsibility of raising my children with their own strong testimonies? How would I manage financially?
On one occasion when these worries were depressing me, my husband asked, “Anna-Greta, would you like me to give you a blessing?” He sat up in bed, put his frail hands on my head, and in the power of the priesthood blessed me with the ability to handle all of my responsibilities capably. This blessing has been with me in a very real way during all the years since his death. Sometimes, facing a difficult problem, I have thought to myself: “You have received a blessing from your husband that you will be able to take care of these problems,” and I have again felt those frail but powerful hands upon my head. I have always been able to overcome the difficulties.
My children are now responsible fathers and mothers of a new generation of Latter-day Saints, serving their Heavenly Father with profound joy. And I share that joy. How grateful I am that the Lord did not tire of me because I failed to listen to him! How grateful I am for the link of the priesthood that will reunite me with my beloved husband, and that has kept us close throughout the years of separation.

But Aaron Moore doesn’t especially want to be here. Aaron, a sandy-haired 15-year-old from Silver Spring, Maryland, is in the cast because his family has voted by majority rule to participate as part of their summer vacation. “This is no vacation,” Aaron says as he laments over having to leave at home his brand-new pup, a combination Doberman-husky-German shepherd named Spike. “He misses Spike something awful,” says his 16-year-old sister, Kiersten.
Aaron would rather be home getting to know his new pup and doing other things that young boys like to do during summer vacations from school. But he knows the rest of the family wants to be here, so he bravely goes along.
The Sherwoods and virtually everyone else are enthusiastic about the two weeks that lie ahead. Everyone but Aaron.
Pageant director Jack Sederholm and his aides conduct auditions, and right away things change a bit for Aaron. He’s selected for one of the more critical roles in the pageant. He’s one of the band of robbers that attacks Ammon while he’s tending the herds of Lamanite King Lamoni. Aaron and the other robbers get to have sword fights with Ammon.
“As long as I’m here, I’m sure glad I got this role,” he says. “Sure, I have to lose the fight to Ammon, but it’s fun and there’s lots of activity, lots of rehearsals, and I’ll keep real busy. That way the time will go by quickly, and I’ll soon be able to get back to my dog.”
Aaron and his companion, 15-year-old Ben Reed of Fairfield, Ohio, aren’t spending as much time in study group as Kim and the other girls. When they’re not in devotionals, they’re generally on the hill, where assistant directors Lund Johnson and Walter Boyden are putting them and the other major characters through their paces. Aaron, the robber, is becoming more proficient in losing his sword fight with Ammon, and Ben is practicing his jumping moves as one of several “dancers” in the court of the pagan Lamanite King Lamoni prior to his conversion.
The swords used in the Ammon battle are heavy metal, and the combatants simply clang blades together as they spar for a few seconds before Ammon emerges victorious. Sometimes the clanging gets a little too close to the fingers, Aaron says, but he manages to escape accidental injury, a fate one of his fellow robbers falls victim to and heads for the dispensary in the trees where a volunteer nurse awaits with first-aid treatment.
After a workout on the hill, Aaron is breathing hard. It’s hot and it’s humid. The perspiration glistens on his forehead. But he’s smiling. There’s a noticeable improvement in his attitude.
“Well, I have to admit I’m enjoying it a little,” he says. “I’m making new friends. It’s kind of exciting to think about opening night. But I still miss my dog.”
The evening of dress rehearsal arrives. Everyone is in costume. Reporters are here interviewing, taking pictures, and videotaping for the nightly news. Cast members are taking photos of the costumes, some more colorful than others.
“Aaron doesn’t really like his costume,” his mother confides, “but he won’t complain about it. He likes the role but not the costume.”
“King Lamoni” loves his costume as he parades peacock-like before the clicking cameras, proudly showing off the feathery plumes of his robe and headdress. A good time is had by all and soon it is dark, they’re on the hill, and the dress rehearsal is history.
Night after night the show goes on. Aaron Moore fights his perpetual losing battle with Ammon, Kim Sherwood maintains a regal presence in the Nativity Scene, and thousands receive the message of the Book of Mormon and the restored gospel.
Finally, it’s Saturday night of the second week—time for the final performance. The same enthusiasm that has prevailed for two weeks is still there, but somehow it’s different. Everyone realizes that after this one, it’s all over. That’s it.
The show goes on. Once again the audience is impressed by the dazzling lights, the sound, the music, the story. Many are moved by the message. As the final scene fades, the “house lights” go on, and the crowd begins working its way to the parking lots. But “back stage”—back in the trees on the hill—no one is in a hurry to leave. There are hugs and handshakes, tears of joy at having had the experience, and tears of sorrow at the knowledge that it’s over. The cast assembles and sings the inevitable “God Be with You Till We Meet Again,” and the tears flow even more freely. Kim Sherwood and Holly Phippen, friends forever, say good-bye, as do countless others who have formed similar lasting bonds of friendship.
“I guess I enjoyed it more than I thought I would,” a changed Aaron Moore admits. “It’s kind of a funny feeling to have it over. I already feel a little lonely. Everybody here has the same goals. There’s such a good spirit. I’ve made so many friends and had some experiences I never could have had back home. Yeah, I guess I’d like to come back and do it again.”
“He’ll be back,” chimes in kid sister Katie, 13. “Mom’s already filled out the application form for next year.”

Feike jumped from the edge of the canal onto the deck of the boat where his family lived. His wooden shoes clunked loudly as he raced toward the white cabin at the back of the boat.
“Today is the day,” the 12-year-old boy thought excitedly. “Today Father will give the missionaries his answer.”
Latter-day Saint missionaries had begun preaching in the Netherlands a few years earlier, in the 1860s. Feike had seen them and brought them home, hoping they would teach him English. He soon learned, however, that the elders had greater things to teach him and his family.
At the door of the small cabin, Feike removed his wooden shoes, turning them upside down to keep out water. His classroom at school was larger than the small cabin that was his home, but Feike loved the tiny kitchen with its wood-burning stove. His parents and younger brothers and sisters slept on wall beds that folded up behind the cupboard doors at the back of the kitchen. Feike, the oldest, slept in the storage compartment at the front of the boat.
He slipped into the living room and sat down quietly. Elder Swensen was speaking, carefully reviewing the teachings he and Elder Lofgren had shared on so many winter nights in this very room. Feike had felt the warmth of the Spirit each time and wanted to be baptized right away. He thought his mother did, too, because she spoke often of going to the temple. But Father would not commit to something unless he knew he could do it, and so he wouldn’t be baptized until he was sure he could keep his baptismal promises. Today was the day Father would tell the missionaries his decision. Feike had been praying so sincerely for weeks that he was certain his father’s answer would be yes.
“Brother Wolthuis,” Elder Lofgren said to Father, “I feel you know the gospel is true.”
Father, looking at the floor, nodded his head.
“Are you willing to be baptized?” Elder Lofgren asked. “Can you make the necessary sacrifices?”
The room was silent. Even Feike’s younger brothers and sisters didn’t wiggle. Everyone stared at Father. Slowly he raised his weatherworn face.
“Yes, I know The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is true. I will be baptized.”
Feike beamed. Heavenly Father had heard his prayers. Mother was smiling through the tears streaming down her cheeks.
“We will be ready to sail to America within the month,” Father promised.
“Sail to America?” Feike blurted out.
“Yes, Feike,” Father said. “Church leaders have asked all the Saints to come to Salt Lake City.” He paused. “Uncle Geert has agreed to buy our boat.”
“But the boat was to become mine one day! I was to become the skipper!” Feike desperately reminded his father.
“I know. I have not forgotten my promise,” Father said. “Uncle Geert has agreed to keep you on as his hired man if you choose not to go to America. Then when you are old enough, he will sell the boat to you.”
Anger washed over Feike’s whole body, erasing all the joy he’d felt about his father’s baptism.
“I thought this Church was true,” Feike exploded, “but to choose between the Church and your country, your relatives, and your boat—it is too much to ask!”
Feike stormed to his small room in the bow of the boat. Out of habit he banged on the side of the boat with a small hammer to signal he’d made it without falling overboard. Tonight he pounded again and again.
A long time passed as Feike lay on his mattress. He thought of the mules pulling the boat through the canals of the Dutch provinces. He thought of the small grocery boats that pulled up alongside their boat so Mother could do her shopping. But mostly Feike thought of the wind filling the tall sails of their boat as they crossed the open waters of the sea. One day he would sail on open waters as the skipper … if he said good-bye to his family when they went to America.
Just then he heard a knock at his door.
“Come in,” Feike mumbled.
His father sat on the end of the bed. “I’m sorry, Feike. I thought you understood that if we were baptized we would go to America.”
“I knew others were going, but I didn’t think you would ever leave the boat. I thought you loved being a skipper.”
Father’s eyes filled with tears. “I do—more than you’ll ever know.”
“What will you do in America?”
“I don’t know. Sailing has been my life. But the Lord has called His people to Salt Lake City, and your mother and I have decided to go.”
“But to give up my dream of being skipper—to leave the boat?”
“It is a difficult decision that only you can make,” his father agreed. “A couple of nights ago as I struggled with the same questions, I found a scripture that helped me. When Jesus called James and John, they were fishermen. But the Bible says that ‘they immediately left the ship … and followed him’ (Matt. 4:22).”
The skipper and his son sat in silence for a long time. Feike looked into his father’s clear blue eyes. He sensed his father’s faith and courage, and he knew what he needed to do. Finally he spoke.
“Can we take the boat out once more before we sail to America together?”
The skipper pulled his son into a hug.
“Yes, I’d like that very much.”

Five young women and their leaders from the Bucharest Romania District, along with a nonmember friend, took part in the Church’s first Young Women camp in Romania from August 24 to 26, 2009. District Young Women president Dina Cojocaru led the camp with the help of senior missionaries Elder Don and Sister Edie Van Noy.
The girls and leaders held morning and evening devotionals, studying the scriptures together every day. Elder and Sister Van Noy taught workshops on topics such as virtue and how to give effective talks in church. In another workshop, the girls learned about modesty and dressing fashionably while still maintaining integrity.
Alina Mateescu, one of the young women, said she had wondered what it takes to be a virtuous young woman, but through the workshop on virtue she felt assured she could become the exemplary woman of integrity God wants her to become.
Romania, a country in southeast Europe, has about 2,736 members in 17 branches.

Our stake asked us to pray for missionary experiences, and I had a very special one when I was with my family on a vacation in the Florida Keys. One day I was out on the beach watching the waves when I noticed a lady sitting next to me reading a magazine. The magazine happened to be the Friend. Being shy, I was afraid to start a conversation with her. But I had a very strong feeling that I should. So I began by asking her if she was a member of the Church. She said she was an investigator. Our conversation continued for at least 30 more minutes. She had many different types of questions. For example, she asked about Church missions and what my family does for family night. I tried my very best to answer all of her questions. This experience strengthened my testimony. I also learned that I need to be ready to answer people’s questions.

The other week was my little brother Gabriel’s birthday. He would have been seven, but he had cerebral palsy and passed away two years ago. In Primary we sang “Gethsemane.” The words were clear and meaningful. It filled the room with the Spirit.
After the song, Sister Webster bore her testimony of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. It filled the room even more with the Spirit. Then she talked about how her brother had died several years ago. It made me think of Gabriel, and I almost started crying. I thought about when I held Gabe for the last time. I was sad, but I also felt peace.
Sister Webster talked about how she was so glad to know that she would see her brother again. She said she knew all of us would see our loved ones who had passed on.
After Primary I gave Sister Webster a hug. We cried together for a few minutes. The Spirit was so strong. She told me that I would see my little brother again. She said the Atonement of Jesus Christ was not only for the wicked but also for the hurt. She asked what I missed the most about Gabe, and I said that I really missed his laugh.
I told Sister Webster that I had been sad because it was Gabriel’s birthday that week and I really needed to know that I would see my brother again. She told me that the tears that we were crying were tears of joy. I could feel the Spirit, and I knew what she said was true. I am sure that I will see Gabriel again, and that makes me so happy. I love him. I know that because Jesus Christ loves me, He gave His life so that I can see Gabriel again.

Expectant silence fills the living room where 80-year-old Ronald Bowles sits surrounded by teenagers.
“I’ll never forget my first trip as an officer in the South Pacific,” Brother Bowles begins, recounting an experience he had on a ship as a U.S. Marine during World War II. “It was a moonlit night, and I was on watch. Off the bow, on the starboard side, three torpedoes were coming straight for us.”
Now at full attention, the young men and women of the Tempe Arizona Stake listen anxiously as Brother Bowles continues: “I was just about to reach for the general alarm bell … when two or three porpoises swerved right by the bow and took off.”
The teens laugh with relief that the threatening torpedoes turned out to be nothing more than porpoises.

The Southport members of the Church, on Preston New Road, set themselves a one-week lockdown challenge to ‘index’ 400 names. Said local resident and volunteer, Mona Gibson (pictured), “I became involved with indexing some years ago when we were asked to help transcribe the 1911 Census by indexing all the information it held. This makes it so much easier for those searching for ancestors in order to build up their family history. Inputting names and information alphabetically onto the computer also helps build a safe digital record. It can help with easing the frustration of searching through pages of documents and maybe endless trips to cemeteries or having to rely on older family members who may no longer be able to remember specific details.”

Mona continued, “I love Indexing as it’s a way to serve the whole family history community, and I can do it all from the comfort of my own home, on my own computer. We managed to get almost 1,000 names indexed over the week of our challenge.”

From the very start of our journey, I was moved by President Kimball and Sister Kimball’s concern for the others traveling with them. When my wife and I boarded the airplane in Salt Lake City, we took seats to the side and in back of President Kimball. A few minutes after the plane took off and the seat belt sign was turned off, President Kimball turned around and said to us, “Are you comfortable?” I was there to serve him and the others traveling with him, and yet he showed this concern for us. Throughout the entire trip this great, kind, friendly man was always interested in the welfare of the people around him. We felt so comfortable traveling with him because of his warmth and graciousness.

When I opened my mission call and learned I would serve an English-speaking mission in America, I was relieved. I struggled in vain to learn a language in high school, and I was glad I wouldn’t have to deal with that again in the MTC.
During my mission I served in a Samoan ward. Most of the members spoke English as well, so we could easily work with them.
Then my companion and I began to teach a part-member family who had been raised in Samoa and had just moved to America. When one of the girls asked me to perform her baptism, I felt impressed to learn how to say the baptism prayer in Samoan. I knew my weakness in learning other languages, but my love for her and her family overcame my fear.
That night I went to another member’s house so he could teach me how to say the prayer in Samoan. Despite 30 minutes of practicing, I left discouraged and frustrated because I had not gotten very far. That night I asked the Lord to bless me with the gift of tongues if He wanted me to say the baptism prayer in Samoan.
When I practiced the next morning, I quickly found I was not only able to say the baptism prayer, but also recite it from memory. The day of the baptism came, and I was able to say the baptism prayer in Samoan nearly perfectly. I felt the Spirit work through me. I know the Lord can work miracles for us if we have the faith and allow Him to work through us.

Elder Llewellyn Harris had just arrived at a Zuni Indian village in New Mexico. It was 1878, and he was on his way to Mexico to preach the gospel. A few of the Zunis had already been baptized members of the Church, but many others wanted to be baptized as well.
A member of the tribe, Captain Lochee, invited Elder Harris to stay with his family. Three of Captain Lochee’s children were very sick with smallpox.
During the night, Elder Harris heard one of the children crying and gasping for breath. Captain Lochee told Elder Harris that his 12-year-old daughter was dying. Elder Harris’s journal tells what happened next: “The Spirit of the Lord moved upon me very strongly to administer to her, which I did. She revived and slept well the remainder of the night.”
Then Elder Harris blessed the two other sick children, and they also recovered.
The next morning, news of the healings spread throughout the village. Elder Harris was asked to visit 25 families who had members sick with smallpox. For four days, he visited 10 to 20 families a day and administered to their sick. Nearly everyone he blessed recovered.
But the disease spread so rapidly that Elder Harris wasn’t able to visit all the sick families. Early one morning, a Zuni woman took him to a house that had a large room. There he found sick people gathered from all over the village.
Elder Harris prayed that the Lord would strengthen him. He knew he would need help to administer to this many people. “I commenced, and as fast as I administered to them they were removed, but other sick ones were continually being brought in,” he wrote.
By the time Elder Harris blessed the last person, the sun had set. The man who acted as his interpreter had also stayed there all day. He asked Elder Harris if he knew how many people he had blessed. Elder Harris said he hadn’t kept count. The interpreter told Elder Harris he had counted 406 people.
Elder Harris wrote the following morning that his arms were so sore he could hardly move them. He took no credit for himself, but gave credit to the Lord for the miraculous healings.

President Monson tells the story of a retired executive named Ed who lived the example of a quorum member. On one occasion President Monson was speaking with Ed and asked him, “‘Ed, what are you doing in the Church?’ He replied, ‘I have the best assignment in the ward. My responsibility is to help men who are unemployed find permanent employment. This year I have helped 12 of my brethren who were out of work to obtain good jobs. I have never been happier in my entire life.’” President Monson continues: “Short in stature, ‘Little Ed,’ as we affectionately called him, stood tall that evening as his eyes glistened and his voice quavered. He showed his love by helping those in need. He restored human dignity. He opened doors for those who knew not how to do so themselves.”

“Let’s not sit by the Wilsons today,” Paul said to his mom as they drove to church.
“Why not?” Mom seemed surprised.
“Because their little boy embarrasses me.”
“You mean cute little Joseph? How does he embarrass you?”
“Haven’t you heard him? He’s so loud, especially during the hymns. He thinks he’s singing, but he’s just making noise.”
Mom smiled. “Ah, yes, I have heard him. I’ll tell you what, you listen very carefully to him today and think about what you hear. And next week, if his singing still bothers you, we’ll sit somewhere else.”
Paul frowned. “That means we’ll have to sit by the Wilsons today.”
“That’s right. But after today the problem should be solved. OK?”
“OK,” Paul sighed.
When they entered the chapel, Paul looked around until he spotted the Wilsons. They were just settling onto a bench. Joseph already had his nose in a hymnbook.
“There’s a seat just in front of them,” Mom pointed out. “Let’s go.”
As Paul sat down, Joseph put down his book and grinned at him. Paul couldn’t help smiling back. Joseph did have a special sparkle in his eyes. If only he weren’t so noisy.
After the bishop’s greeting, it was time for the opening hymn. Paul was still looking for the correct page in the hymnbook when the music began. Joseph began to wail so loudly that Paul could hardly hear the organ playing.
Paul looked at Mom and silently mouthed, “See?”
Mom smiled and mouthed back, “Listen.”
Paul listened. Joseph sang very loudly, but he wasn’t singing what everyone else was singing. When the rest of the congregation paused between verses, Joseph’s voice could still be heard. It just sounded like noise to Paul. Why couldn’t Joseph sing the right words or at least sing at the right times? Paul glanced back at the Wilsons. Joseph held open the hymnbook for his parents. They didn’t seem to notice the awful racket he was making.
After the opening prayer, Mom opened her scriptures and pointed out a verse to Paul. It was in Psalms 66:1–2 and it read, “Make a joyful noise unto God, all ye lands: Sing forth the honour of his name: make his praise glorious.”
“‘Joyful noise’? Was that what Joseph was doing?” Paul wondered.
When it came time to sing the sacrament hymn, Paul was halfway through the song when he realized he couldn’t hear Joseph. Had he fallen asleep? Paul glanced back and saw Joseph sitting between his parents with his arms folded. Joseph’s father held the book for them. Paul tilted his head and listened carefully. Was Joseph making any noise at all? Yes, now he could hear him. He was humming. He wasn’t humming the same song everyone else was singing, but it was a reverent tune. Joseph somehow knew that this was the time for a quiet song. Paul tried to sing with more reverence.
Paul was glad there was another hymn during the meeting. This would give him another opportunity to hear Joseph sing. And sing he did! This was more like a “wake-up” hymn to Joseph. He held the hymnbook high again and sang with gusto. Paul suddenly realized that Joseph probably didn’t sing the words because he wasn’t old enough to read, but he didn’t let that stop him. Paul wondered if he would be so brave if he couldn’t read the words in the hymnbook. Would he be able to sing with as much enthusiasm as Joseph?
After that hymn, Paul’s mother showed him another scripture: “For my soul delighteth in the song of the heart; yea, the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads” (D&C 25:12). Paul nodded. Joseph’s singing certainly was from his heart.
Paul made one more discovery during the closing hymn. Joseph wasn’t just making noise or making up words, he was actually singing the words to a song. Paul listened carefully and heard “I Am a Child of God.” Of course, everyone else was singing something else. When the congregation began singing the last verse, Joseph launched into “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam.” Paul smiled to himself. This was Joseph’s time to sing, too. And he was singing every song he could think of, with all his might.
When the last notes on the organ faded away, Joseph’s voice could be clearly heard as he ended his song with “I’ll be a sunbeam for Him.” Many people chuckled. Paul heard Joseph’s mom whisper to Joseph, “Prayer time.” There was a rustle as Joseph shifted in his seat and folded his arms.
When the prayer was over, Paul’s mom looked at Paul and raised her eyebrows. “Well?” she asked. “Is there still a problem?”
Paul shook his head. He turned to the Wilsons. “Hey, Joseph,” Paul said, “can I walk you to Primary? I bet they love you in singing time.”
Joseph grinned and nodded as he took Paul’s hand. As they walked down the aisle, Paul started quietly humming a Primary song that had just come to his mind, “A song is a wonderful kind of thing, so lift up your voice and sing. …”

I sank into my chair in shame as the teacher introduced the lesson on chastity. “Now, I know you girls don’t have trouble with the law of chastity … ,” she started off. Little did she—or anyone else—know that it was something I had struggled with as a young woman.

Lessons in church made me feel that sexual feelings were only appropriate within marriage and that sexual feelings outside of marriage were bad. I felt ashamed, weak, and alone, which led me to resent the whole topic completely.

Growing up in the Church, I used to think that talking about sex—even in appropriate ways—or acknowledging sexual thoughts and feelings was taboo or wrong unless you were married. My thoughts were skewed to think that any curiosity or question about sexuality or even chastity should be repressed because it didn’t follow God’s plan. And because I thought my questions were too shameful to discuss with anyone, I looked for answers from sources that did not reflect sexuality the way Heavenly Father intends.

I struggled with my feelings and behaviors for years. I knew they were wrong, but I didn’t know who I could turn to for help. I carried the weight of sins and shame with me every day, but I still tried to do everything else right. I seemed to be stuck in an “in-between zone”—with half of me in the world and the other half in the gospel.

I wanted more than anything to put my whole self in the gospel. So I studied my scriptures, I prayed, I participated in Church activities, and I fulfilled my callings. The gospel seemed to be the only thing that brought me relief.

As I gradually learned more and came closer to the Savior, my desire to fully live the law of chastity grew stronger. After a lot of pondering and praying, I finally decided to talk with my bishop about my struggles.

As I left my bishop’s office, that weight I had carried on my shoulders for so many years seemed to disappear. I cried with relief. I already felt the Savior’s healing power working in my life. Meetings with my bishop helped me, through the repentance process, to understand that my feelings were normal and that I wasn’t alone in struggling with chastity. I learned there are others—like me—who have suffered in silence because of shame, fear, and misunderstanding.

In 1989, Elder Haight became critically ill and was rushed unconscious to the hospital. He later reported in the October 1989 general conference that while unconscious, he found himself “in a calm, peaceful setting … conscious of two persons on a hillside. … I was conscious of being in a holy presence and atmosphere. During the hours and days that followed, there was impressed again and again upon my mind the eternal mission and exalted position of the Son of Man. I witness to you that He is Jesus the Christ, the Son of God, Savior to all, Redeemer of all mankind, Bestower of infinite love, mercy and forgiveness, the Light and Life of the world. I knew this truth before—I had never doubted nor wondered. But now I knew, because of the impressions of the Spirit upon my heart and soul, these divine truths in a most unusual way” (Ensign, Nov. 1989, pp. 59–60).