Gospel Story Finder

One of my sons had a difficult time when he was young. He was regularly teased and seemed to feel defeated much of the time. As parents, we also often corrected him. His emotions were regularly close to the surface, and we weren’t able to talk through things with him. As my wife and I made an effort to understand him, we felt like he needed to feel the Spirit more in his life and he needed to know his parents really did care.
I asked him if we could spend time together each night reading from the Book of Mormon. We didn’t focus on how long we read or how much; instead, we simply found something meaningful we could talk about. The goal was not to read the Book of Mormon but rather to help my son feel the love of his heavenly and earthly parents. While not a cure-all, the effort to give him what he needed helped us both. We both felt much brighter and closer to each other and to God. My son started asking questions as we read, and I began to understand him even better.

Not since I left France in 1965 had I personally known another missionary called to serve there, until Sister Marian Ream departed from our ward for Paris in the winter of 1978. I wrote her letters of encouragement, and she responded with postcards telling me of the progress of the mission.
The following summer I was startled to find enclosed with her letter a picture of me and a junior companion taken in Versailles in 1964. Where had she found this picture?
“Dear Gladys,” her letter read, “A strange thing happened last week. We were at the Desmurs home to talk with them and get some copies of the Book of Mormon they had for us. When they found out I had always been a member of the Church, Sister Desmurs stood on a chair in her front room and got this picture down. She pointed to the missionary on the right and asked me if I knew her. I looked for a minute and said, ‘I’m not sure, but I think it’s Sister Farmer who lives in my ward in Provo, Utah.’ The whole family was very excited to think I might have identified this missionary. Sister Desmurs had tears in her eyes. She said it was because of the testimony of this sister that she had joined the Church. She had asked countless missionaries since if they could identify and help locate her.”
Sister Ream went on to describe the family to me. The father, now second counselor in the ward bishopric, had joined the Church several months after his wife’s baptism. The entire family of seven was active and very helpful to the missionaries.

You see, I am a Mormon. When I was 13, I had lived with a foster family in Salt Lake City and, after receiving permission, had been baptized into the Church. Upon returning home I found my family very much against my new religion. They forbade me to attend or participate in Church activities, and I obeyed. During the last half of my senior year in high school, however, I was contacted by two missionaries, Elder Michael Morris and Elder Gene L. Peterson, and was retaught the gospel. They encouraged me to seek further education and even go on a mission if it was my desire. It was ironic that now these two options were being offered to me—but in a different way than I had expected.
I thought of every reason why I should accept the offer. My future would be secure, my dreams of a master’s degree in art would be realized, and I could devote my time to studying without having to worry about working. Was there really a difference in serving a mission for the Methodist church instead of the Mormon church? Weren’t they both Christian churches? My friends and teachers were encouraging me to take the offer. Their concern for my future was genuine, and I appreciated their love—I didn’t want to disappoint them. My personal desire to say yes to the Methodist church was strengthened by my fear of facing my friends if I did not.
“How could I turn down this offer?” I asked myself. But a still small voice, much quieter than the voices around me, whispered, “How can you accept it? How can you live a lie?” I realized then that if I accepted I would have to keep secret the fact that it was not the Methodist church I desired to serve. I could not use their support to achieve my goals. They were such wonderful people, so generous in their nature. The voice was right. How could I? I could not. My decision was made, and I had to find the strength to face it no matter how unrealistic it seemed to my friends. I wrote the council and explained that I was a Mormon, and though their offer was something I would never forget, I could not accept it. They answered my letter, expressing appreciation for my honesty with them, and wished me luck in my future endeavors.
Since then, through a lot of hard work and help from many people, I have graduated from Brigham Young University with the art degree I so much wanted. I was privileged to enjoy several teaching assistantships there plus the companionship of some of the greatest people I’ve ever known. When faced with similar decisions since then, I’ve reflected back on this experience of standing against the advice of friends and loved ones and listening instead to the whispering of one small voice that only I could hear. I have learned that no matter how great the problems and pressures or how difficult the decisions, Heavenly Father is always there to guide us.

The last quarter of a mile to Steve Davis’s house was a real killer. It was a private lane that left the road about a mile beyond the Baptist church and ran through a swamp. And when it rained, which was often, the road became part of the swamp. If you wanted to get to the end of that lane you parked your car and walked, as Steve and his dad always did. You could try it on wheels, but your vehicle could also become a permanent part of the local ecology. It was a pretty enough place, with shafts of sunlight filtering through the tall pine trees, but no prettier than a lot of places you could visit more easily. It was a quarter mile you covered only if you had a good reason.
Steve and his father were inactive. They lived 30 miles from the chapel where they were supposed to attend, in a different county. Thirty miles and a quarter mile of bad road.
Steve Davis and his father were members of the Brooksville Ward, Tampa Bay Florida Stake. And although 17-year-old Steve hadn’t been coming to church for a while, he still had some good friends in the priests quorum. He had enjoyed a lot of wonderful times with them. They hunted rabbits in the woods and cast nets for mullets in Crystal Bay. Once they had netted a small shark. They also played softball and basketball together.
When it was starting to look like Steve might just stay inactive, a call came from the stake leadership. Each Aaronic Priesthood quorum in the stake was to choose someone to reactivate. Steve’s quorum, which consisted of Joe Beggs, Billy Mantooth, and Dennis Hunter, had no trouble choosing. They wanted their good friend back with them on Sundays. They had also been missing him on their basketball and softball teams.
The stake suggested that quorums visit the person they had chosen at least once a week. Fine, but there were the 30 miles—and the quarter mile of bad road. That didn’t seem like much of a problem to these young men. So every week they traveled the 30 miles to his lane and then the quarter of a mile of muck to his house. Usually they walked down the lane. Occasionally they revved up the engine and took a chance.
For his part, Steve had been wanting to come back for some time, but after being away for a while it isn’t always easy. Still, each time his friends showed up it started seeming more and more possible.
It wasn’t always easy for the visitors either. Billy Mantooth would remember afterward, “It really seemed like the devil was working against us. Things would always come up so we’d feel we couldn’t go to his house, but we’d end up going anyway. Sometimes we wouldn’t get there until ten o’clock at night, but we’d go.”
Once there they expressed love but didn’t push. “They told me everyone missed me, but they didn’t pressure me to come,” Steve remembers.
It was obvious that these young men really cared. Just how much they cared became evident one night when they decided the four-wheel-drive vehicle they were in could handle the lane just fine. They were half right. They got in okay, but on the way out they slid off the road into the deep stuff. Steve and his dad came to help them. Finally, about 3 A.M., they got out. By then they all looked like lumpy mud statues. The reactivation squad was so dirty, in fact, that they had to take off their muddy clothes before they climbed back in the Blazer. But if their faces were covered with mud, it just made their smiles stand out more. The four young men who rode home in their underwear that night were very tired but very happy. They could tell they were making a difference with Steve. And the next week they were back again. They were not young men to be conquered by a mere quarter of a mile.
Steve was happy too. One Sunday not long after that memorable night, he showed up at church, and his father was with him. Their attendance was a little sporadic at first, but the friends kept visiting them until old habits of attendance were reestablished.
Steve says, “I love them all. I’ll always be grateful to them. If it weren’t for them, I’d probably still be inactive. My whole life will be different because of what they did.”
A quarter-mile lane is not very long, especially compared to a 30-mile drive. But often it’s the quarter mile thrown in at the end that keeps us from going the 30 miles. It’s just the sort of thing that makes most of us decide to do the job tomorrow, or next week, or sometime when it doesn’t look like rain. But Steve and his dad will always be grateful for friends who realized that the extra mile can sometimes be a quarter of a mile long.

Recently, I was planning to move from Mtwivilla Street into a new apartment in Ikonongo, few blocks away in my home country of Tanzania. A few days after I paid for the first month’s rent, I started hearing stories about thieves. The lady next door told me about how her cell phone had been stolen few days ago. The stories made me feel uncomfortable and I thought maybe it was not a good idea for me to move. Thoughts of fear kept on ringing in my mind, to the extent that they interrupted and ruined my daily scripture study.
After battling with this for some days, I chose to keep up with my schedule and continue with my study of the Doctrine and Covenants. While reading section three, my mind was caught up to verses 7 and 8 where the Lord admonished Joseph Smith after he gave the 116 manuscript pages to Martin Harris, and the pages were subsequently lost. We know that Joseph Smith greatly relied upon the assistance of his friend Martin Harris, and he was thus eager to meet his friend’s request. However, the Lord told Joseph Smith: “For behold, you should not have feared man more than God . . .

“You should have been faithful; and he would have extended his arm and supported you against all the fiery darts of the adversary; and he would have been with you in every time of trouble.”2
That assurance melted all my fears and I realized that I had wasted much of my precious time trying to think about what thieves can do to me in the new place instead of trusting in what the Lord can do for me. The clear thought came to me that all I needed was to do my part in locking the windows and the door at night, and then keep the Lord’s commandments and He would provide peace and protection in my new place.
I am glad I chose to read my scriptures. The solution to my concern was there waiting for me: to just act on the prophet’s invitation to read the scriptures every day. I am very grateful for the companionship of the Holy Ghost that enlightened my mind to understand that precious truth from the Doctrine and Covenants.
I finally moved, and all has been well as I have continued to do my part and let the Lord do His. The peace, calm and comfort that I receive from my daily scripture study keep me going and increase my faith in Heavenly Father and in His Son Jesus Christ.

Forty-four years ago I heard William J. Critchlow Jr., then president of the South Ogden Stake, speak to the brethren in the general priesthood session of conference, and retell a story concerning trust, honor, and duty. May I share the story with you. Its simple lesson applies to us today, as it did then.
“Rupert stood by the side of the road watching an unusual number of people hurry past. At length he recognized a friend. ‘Where are all of you going in such a hurry?’ he asked.
“The friend paused. ‘Haven’t you heard?’ he said.
“‘I’ve heard nothing,’ Rupert answered.
“‘Well,’ continued [the] friend, ‘the King has lost his royal emerald. Yesterday he attended a wedding of the nobility and wore the emerald on the slender golden chain around his neck. In some way the emerald became loosened from the chain. Everyone is searching, for the King has offered a reward … to the one who finds it. Come, we must hurry.’
“‘But I cannot go without asking Grandmother,’ faltered Rupert.
“‘Then I cannot wait. I want to find the emerald,’ replied his friend.
“Rupert hurried back to the cabin at the edge of the woods to seek his grandmother’s permission. ‘If I could find it we could leave this hut with its dampness and buy a piece of land up on the hillside,’ he pleaded with Grandmother.
“But his grandmother shook her head. ‘What would the sheep do?’ she asked. ‘Already they are restless in the pen, waiting to be taken to the pasture—and please do not forget to take them to water when the sun shines high in the heavens.’
“Sorrowfully, Rupert took the sheep to the pasture, and at noon he led them to the brook in the woods. There he sat on a large stone by the stream. ‘If I could only have had a chance to look for the King’s emerald,’ he thought. Turning his head to gaze down at the sandy bottom of the brook, suddenly he stared into the water. What was it? It could not be! He leaped into the water, and his gripping fingers held something that was green, with a slender bit of gold chain. ‘The King’s emerald!’ he shouted. ‘It must have been flung from the chain when the King [astride his horse, galloped across the bridge spanning the stream, and the current carried] it here.’
“With shining eyes Rupert ran to his grandmother’s hut to tell her of his great find. ‘Bless you, my boy,’ she said, ‘but you never would have found it if you had not been doing your duty, herding the sheep.’ And Rupert knew that this was the truth.”
The lesson to be learned from this story is found in the familiar couplet: “Do your duty; that is best. Leave unto the Lord the rest.”

I was first exposed to pornography at age 13. I found it accidentally on social media, not knowing what it was and not understanding it. I went from unintentional exposure and curiosity to intentionally seeking it out.
At that time, my leaders’ messages about pornography seemed to be saying that it was something only boys struggled with. This left me feeling a lot of shame. I thought I’d never be able to tell anyone about my struggle. I knew about Jesus Christ’s Atonement, but because I thought that I was the only girl with this struggle, I felt like my situation was out of the Savior’s reach. I felt like the exception.
During those years, in places like seminary or devotionals—wherever the Spirit was present—I often felt prompted to set up a meeting with my bishop. For so long, what kept me from doing this was the idea that I had a reputation to uphold as a good kid from an active family. I thought he would see me for who I was—and I didn’t believe that person was lovable. I thought I would be met with instant punishment.
When I finally set up that meeting, it went very differently from how I expected. Instead of handing out punishment, my bishop told me: “You are still a daughter of God. You are still just as loved, and you are still just as valued.”
My bishop told me: “You are still a daughter of God. You are still just as loved, and you are still just as valued.”
I remember feeling overwhelmed with love. That was the first time I had felt the power of the Savior’s Atonement so strongly in my life. Looking back, I understand why those words my bishop said were so important.
When you’re struggling with pornography, you go through a cycle of shame. For me, I would feel out of touch with my own identity and then use pornography to deal with those negative emotions. Then I would feel shame and isolate myself from others, and the cycle would repeat.
For so long, I tried to rely on my own willpower to “just stop.” But I couldn’t do it on my own. My bishop helped me remember my identity—that I am a beloved daughter of God. As I met with him and remembered that truth, I started to make genuine progress.
Photographs courtesy of Madelyn and her family
Madelyn knows pornography won’t be her only mountain to climb. With the help of the Savior and the right tools, she keeps finding strength to overcome life’s challenges. This photo was taken right before she climbed a glacier in Alaska, USA!
At first, I was afraid to pray. I saw Heavenly Father as a God of justice and anger. But going through the process of continual repentance has helped me understand the nature of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. Knowing that repenting one time doesn’t make me immune to this struggle has allowed me to me keep relying on Their divine help. Heavenly Father already knew about and understood my trials; I just needed to reach out to Him.
I learned that both Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are merciful and understanding. As you turn to Them, They will walk alongside you and hold your hand every step of the way.
Understanding God’s nature also helped me understand Satan and his tools and how they work in direct opposition to God. One of Satan’s most powerful tools is shame, which is different from guilt or “godly sorrow” (2 Corinthians 7:10). When you feel guilt, you realize you’ve made a mistake. But shame links the negative feelings you have about yourself when you sin to your identity, like you are those feelings.
Satan wanted me to believe that I could overcome this challenge on my own. This lie was something that kept me from talking to my bishop about my struggle with pornography. I felt like I couldn’t meet with him until I could say it was something I had struggled with in the past. Satan uses your individual weaknesses to make you feel unworthy to seek the Savior’s healing power.
I learned that Satan works on us when we’re isolated, so our best defense is connection. Sometimes it’s as simple as reaching out to others and spending meaningful time with good friends. Connecting with Heavenly Father, with yourself, and with others (especially with those who see you the way Heavenly Father does) is the best way to remember your true identity: a valued child of God.
Eventually I started getting promptings to help other young women who are struggling with pornography. I felt a higher purpose. I decided to care more about what Heavenly Father thinks than what others around me might think, so I started speaking openly about my experiences.
Once you feel the undeniable joy of continual repentance, you want to share it with others! Now I continue to share this joy as I serve as a full-time missionary.
Madi was assigned to labor as a full-time missionary in the Singapore Mission, speaking Malay.
You are never alone, and there is hope.
This struggle is something you can overcome with the help of the Savior, trusted loved ones and leaders, and the right tools. Get yourself out of isolation and reach out to someone who sees you through God’s eyes. Ask them what they see in you!
No matter what your fight is, you are never beyond the reach of the Savior and His Atonement. You are redeemable. Heavenly Father loves you completely, and it’s worth it to keep repenting.
You are never alone, and there is hope.
“Jesus Christ has the power to help you resist pornography and repent. Turn toward Him; turn away from darkness. Your bishop can help you receive strength and forgiveness through the Savior.”
For the Strength of Youth: A Guide for Making Choices (2022), 20.

“Well, Cory, based on what we’ve talked about, I would be pleased to recommend you for full-time service as a missionary,” my bishop said, nearing the end of the interview.
“So, I guess I’m pretty well on my way to the mission field after this,” I said. I was already picturing myself in an exotic land, saving lost souls. But the bishop interrupted my daydreams.
“Actually, there’s one more very important thing I wanted to talk about before we end this evening,” he said. “Far too often potential missionaries are so involved in checking off items on their ‘to do’ list that they don’t keep their temple ordinances in the right perspective.” I felt like the bishop was describing me as he went on, “For some missionaries, receiving their endowment is sandwiched between checking the dimensions of their luggage and hitting next weekend’s two-pant suit sale.” My bishop’s words made me realize that I needed to consider the temple with the importance it deserved.
During the rest of the interview he explained the sacred nature of the endowment. By going through the temple, he told me, I would be making sacred covenants with my Heavenly Father that go far beyond the mission and are essential to my exaltation. “Not only that,” he continued, “your temple experience will fill you with the desire to serve. You will want those you teach to receive the same blessings of the temple that you have received. The strength you’ll receive from your temple covenants will benefit you as a missionary, but they also have eternal significance.”
The bishop’s words weighed on me as I walked slowly home. I began to feel nervous. I had looked forward my whole life to the time when I would enter the temple, but now I was especially eager to be ready.
A few weeks later I received my mission call. With excitement I read the words “Brazil Porto Alegre North Mission.” I could hardly wait to be among the Brazilian people, sharing the message of the restored gospel. I shared the news of my call with my extended family, ward members, and friends. I also noticed how many people were just as eager to know when I would go through the temple. Many had words of advice to offer me on how I should prepare myself mentally and spiritually before entering the house of the Lord.
During the next few months I made sure to attend temple preparation classes. I read my scriptures and prayed for a continuing reassurance of my decision to receive my endowment. The Spirit comforted me again and again. I also read the pamphlet Preparing to Enter the Holy Temple, written to assist those preparing to attend the temple for the first time. I was so grateful for the statements about the reverence and peace that prevail in the temple. During this time of preparation I gained a much stronger testimony of the sacred nature of the Lord’s house and the work that is performed inside.
I will always remember the sight of the temple the day I arrived to receive my endowment. I was filled with deep respect and reverence. I was humbled by the thought that I would go inside and make sacred covenants with my Father in Heaven.
I had arrived dressed in my Sunday best, knowing that my outward appearance reflected my inward respect for the house of the Lord.
“Welcome to the temple,” I was greeted as I showed my recommend and walked inside. Everything about the temple was beautiful. It felt like a piece of heaven on earth, and the friendly temple workers seemed like angels.
I remained in awe at the Spirit I felt. While I didn’t immediately understand everything that was taking place, I did realize the importance of the covenants I was making. It was clear to me why my bishop had spoken of the temple the way he had. The endowment I was receiving would extend not only far beyond the two years of my mission but even into the eternities. More meaningful to me than any of the advice I had received from various people was a scripture I had read as part of my preparation, “And that all people who shall enter upon the threshold of the Lord’s house may feel thy power, and feel constrained to acknowledge that thou hast sanctified it, and that it is thy house, a place of thy holiness” (D&C 109:13). I knew that the temple was the Lord’s house, sanctified and holy. I went expecting to feel God’s love, and I did.
Throughout my mission I frequently reflected on my first temple experience. I was also thankful for having attended the temple each week at the MTC. The blessings of the temple fortified me and gave me strength through difficult times. I was filled with the desire to serve and bring others to a knowledge of God’s plan. I wanted everyone I taught to have the same opportunity to make covenants with Heavenly Father and receive a greater understanding of His infinite love.
I am grateful for having realized that the temple will be a part of me forever and not something to simply check off before leaving on my mission. Since returning home from my mission, I have made temple attendance a priority in my life. The temple is a place of clarity and renewal for me. It is a place of holiness where I can feel God’s love for me and for all His children.

“I don’t know if I can do this new calling,” Lily whispered to Mom. They were waiting outside the bishop’s office after church.
Lily had just been called as president for her Young Women class. She was excited. But also really scared. She had just turned 11 in December and was the youngest girl in her class. How could she be the president?
Lily looked down at her lap and noticed she had torn up the paper she was holding. She always did that when she was nervous. Little pieces of paper were all over her dress.
“I’ve only been in Young Women for a few months!” Lily said, biting her lip. “I don’t know how to be a leader.”
“It’s OK to be nervous,” Mom said. “But you’ll do great!” She grabbed Lily’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Remember when you took cookies to Amanda?”
Lily nodded. A few months ago, Lily’s friend Amanda was sick with the flu. Lily baked cookies for Amanda and made a big word search for her to do so she wouldn’t be bored.
“Yes,” Lily said. “But what does that have to do with being a good class president?”
Mom helped Lily clean up the torn pieces of paper.
“Because,” she said, “you had a good idea, and you followed through. You care about people. That’s a big part of being a good leader!”
“Really?” Lily asked.
“Really,” Mom said, smiling. “Jesus was the perfect leader because He cared about people and helped them. You can try to do that too.”
Lily grinned. She hadn’t thought of that. She took a deep breath. “Thanks, Mom.”
Bishop Roston stepped out of his office. “Are you ready, Lily?”
She nodded. Together, she and Mom went into the bishop’s office.
Lily sat in a chair while Bishop Roston and his counselor put their hands on her head. They set her apart for her new calling and gave her a blessing. Lily listened carefully to the words.
During the blessing, Bishop Roston told her to always listen to the Spirit and to her heart. He also told her that if she was faithful and prayed to Heavenly Father, He would help her know what to do.
Lily felt peaceful as she heard those words. She knew that feeling was from the Holy Ghost.
After the blessing, Lily shook hands with the bishop and his counselor.
“Lily, you are kind, and you’re capable. You will be able to bless the girls in your class,” Bishop Roston said, smiling.
“Thank you,” Lily said. “I’ll do my best!”
As she turned to leave, Lily noticed a picture of Jesus on Bishop Roston’s desk. I can help people too! she thought.
On the way home, Lily thought of ways she could help the girls in her class. She thought about Suzanne, who had broken her arm on her trampoline last week.
I bet Suzanne could use some love right now, she thought.
“Can I visit Suzanne tonight?” Lily asked Mom. “I have an idea about something I can do for her!”
After all, Lily thought with a smile, that’s what Jesus would do. President Lily was ready to serve!

Another question often asked is, When death from war occurs, what of the promised blessings of the patriarch upon that person’s head? Why are his blessings not permitted to be realized? I think now of a distraught father and mother who had just received that ominous and tersely worded telegram from the government, informing them of the death of their son. They came seeking an interview to see if some light and understanding could be given to ease their aching hearts and to bolster their faith. Just home from a mission for the Church, he’d been inducted into military service. Before leaving, he had received a patriarchal blessing in which he was promised that he would have a posterity of sons and daughters. Had the patriarch’s words been inspired? Why did this promise fail? asked the parents, since to their knowledge their son had lived worthy of every blessing promised to the faithful.
Akin to this is another incident of a sister who had filled a mission and had contracted tuberculosis. Shortly after she returned home, she passed away. I was asked to speak at her funeral service. She had received a patriarchal blessing in which she had been promised that she would be a mother in Israel. The family said that certainly no one had lived a more saintly life than had she. I spoke of this, as it troubled me. The patriarch of the stake spoke at the funeral also. He said, “When a patriarch pronounces an inspired blessing, such a blessing encompasses the whole of life, not just this phase we call mortality.”
“If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable,” said the apostle Paul. If we fail to understand this great truth, we will be miserable in time of need, and then sometimes our faith may be challenged. But if we have a faith that looks beyond the grave and trusts in divine providence to bring all things in their proper perspective in due time, then we have hope, and our fears are calmed.
“… faith is not to have a perfect knowledge of things,” declared the prophet Alma; “therefore if ye have faith ye hope for things which are not seen, which are true.” (Alma 32:21.) Life does not end with mortal death. Through temple ordinances which bind on earth and in heaven, every promised blessing predicated upon faithfulness will be realized.

Nikki and Breck Fullmer quarreled constantly. Most of their fights were about Nikki borrowing Breck’s T-shirts, and Nikki enduring Breck’s music. Nikki and Breck were both looking for a way out of their conflicts when they decided to participate in their stake’s “Time Alone” experiment.
In “Time Alone” you invite a family member to spend an hour doing something they like with only you. It’s a laser focus of attention on a single sibling or parent. “Time Alone” is a simple formula for friendship that might make a change in your family. Some family members experience results in just a few meetings.
Nikki knew her brother gulped gallons of soda pop every week, so she invited him to go get a drink with her. He thought it was a fine arrangement, since she was buying. After the soda they talked and drove around for an hour. After just one rendezvous Nikki said, “He’s at a stage where he’ll do just about anything to be cool. And now he thinks it’s cool to be with me.”
Other young people who participated in the experiment didn’t fight with their brothers and sisters but felt their relationships weren’t as strong as they could be. Curtis Morley missed the close relationship he and his younger brother had as young boys. He decided to get up early with his brother and join him in his bike ride to volleyball practice during the summer.
“At first we just talked of common things, but as the days progressed he spoke more from the heart. I anticipated a noticeable change in him. It didn’t happen. Instead the change came over me. I had regained a friend, someone who would always be there when I needed him—and an awesome volleyball partner.”

Puao and Ataliga Ah Hoy met while they were both single teachers at Sauniatu. After they were married, they decided to go to BYU—Hawaii Campus and get additional schooling. Ataliga said she learned about being a good mother and teaching a family from watching the young people work on the various projects.
“I also learned that you need to check after a project is done. If it isn’t right, do it over,” she said.
Her husband, Puao, said that he learned leadership skills, and once he caught the vision of doing the impossible, he felt he could go away for additional schooling so he could become a better teacher. “I learned that sometimes when the work is very hard, if you make a joke and smile, it seems easier.”
Puao and Ataliga struggled at BYU—Hawaii because they didn’t have much money. “We had learned to sacrifice while at Sauniatu, and the Lord blessed us for it. When we needed money to do our washing, we would visit a pool near the temple. Every time we needed a quarter for the washing machine, it was waiting for us in the pool. Sometimes more was there, but we only took enough to do our washing. When we didn’t need money, we never saw money in the pool. This is one way the Lord helped us,” Puao said.

Brooke P. of California, USA, could feel her resolve wavering—it would be so much easier to blend in with her teammates. The other girls were pressuring her to dress like them for practices and games.
Brooke had already decided that she wanted to be modest, but she didn’t know what that meant for playing her sport. Would it be OK to dress like her teammates just during sporting events?
“I decided to do some research,” Brooke says. “I looked through For the Strength of Youth, the scriptures, Church talks—everything I could get my hands on. Nothing seemed to describe my exact situation and give me specific enough advice. But I knew that Heavenly Father knew me and that He knew what would be modest.”
So Brooke took action again. “I decided to get down on my knees and pray,” she says. As she prayed, she expressed her desire to obey the commandments and then asked whether it would be OK for her to dress like her teammates for their practices and games.
Now let’s return to Brooke. After her prayer, she felt impressed not to alter her clothing choices. Although her decision was unpopular, she found confidence and peace knowing that her choice was pleasing to Heavenly Father.

The third is to be different. Let me tell you a story that happened this July on Panama City Beach in Florida.5 Late in the afternoon, Roberta Ursrey saw her two young sons screaming for help from 100 yards (90 m) out into the ocean. They had become caught in a strong current and were being carried out to sea. A nearby couple tried to rescue the boys, but they also got caught in the current. So members of the Ursrey family dove in to rescue the struggling swimmers, and quickly nine people were caught in the rip current.
There were no ropes. There was no lifeguard. The police sent for a rescue boat, but the people had been out in the ocean struggling for 20 minutes, and they were exhausted and their heads were slipping under the water. Among the onlookers on the beach was Jessica Mae Simmons. Her husband had the idea to form a human chain. They shouted at people on the beach to help them, and dozens of people linked arms and marched into the ocean. Jessica wrote, “To see people from different races and genders come into action to help TOTAL strangers [was] absolutely amazing to see!!”6 An 80-person chain stretched toward the swimmers. Look at this picture of that incredible moment.
Everyone on the beach could think only of traditional solutions, and they were paralyzed. But one couple, in a split second, thought of a different solution. Innovation and creation are spiritual gifts. When we keep our covenants, it may make us different from others in our culture and society, but it gives us access to inspiration so we can think of different solutions, different approaches, different applications. We aren’t always going to fit in with the world, but being different in positive ways can be a lifeline to others who are struggling.
The fourth is to be distinct. Distinct means to be recognizably well defined. Let me go back to the story about Jessica Mae Simmons on the beach. Once that human chain was stretching toward the swimmers, she knew she could help. Jessica Mae said, “I can hold my breath … and go around an Olympic pool with ease! [I knew how to get out of a rip current.] I knew I could get [each swimmer] to the human chain.”7 She and her husband grabbed boogie boards and swam down the chain until they and another rescuer reached the swimmers, and then they ferried them one by one back to the chain, who passed them to the safety of the beach. Jessica had a distinct skill: she knew how to swim against a rip current.

In all of the years Brigham Young was a boy, he owned just one pair of shoes. They were his Sunday pair, and he wore them only at church.
Brigham had ten brothers and sisters, and their father saw that each child learned to work hard. His mother was extremely ill, and she died when Brigham was still a young boy. Because the family was very poor, the Young children often did not have enough to eat.
Lorenzo: Brigham, I’m so hungry my stomach aches.
Brigham: I know, Lorenzo. But we have to finish this stack of wood, or we’ll be cold as well as hungry.
Brigham also learned to be brave. Years later, after his conversion and baptism, his bravery kept the Church strong.
Man: Joseph is a fallen [now false] prophet. David Whitmer should take his place.
Brigham: Joseph is a true prophet, and I know it. You cannot destroy the authority of a prophet of God.
After an angry mob killed Joseph, Brigham Young bravely led the Church in Nauvoo.
President Young: Faithful Saints, we must finish the temple. We need to receive of its blessings before we depart for the West.
Later, as the Saints struggled through cold, mud, and hunger on the way to the Salt Lake Valley, President Brigham Young raised their spirits.
President Young: Let us hear the brass band and the fiddle. We’ll have a dance!
Boyhood trials had taught President Young to endure.
Man: Great idea, Brother Brigham!
If you’d like to learn more about President Brigham Young, do the “President Brigham Young Crossword” on page 23.

One of my fondest childhood memories is the clicking of my mother’s high heels on the hardwood kitchen floor as she prepared our family for church. She was heavily involved in our ward and served for years as Relief Society president. I never dreamed anything would change.
When I was around 12 and she and I lived alone, she left the Church for reasons I didn’t understand. Although my mom—my role model—had decided to take a different path, I knew the gospel was true, and I continued to attend church. Even though she disagreed with my decision, Mom did drive me to and from church every week.
It was often emotionally difficult to attend church, especially sacrament meeting where, sitting alone near the back, I had a clear view of all the mothers, fathers, and children sitting together. Many times I sat with a friend’s family. I’ll always be grateful for my “Mormon family” and others in my ward who took extra care to include me during this difficult time.
My home teachers, for example, were faithful even though it was only me they came to teach and I lived farther away than most ward members. I looked forward to the opportunity to discuss the gospel and to feel the strength of the priesthood and the Spirit in my home.
Many ward members were people I had known all my life. With their familiar faces, welcoming smiles, and friendly conversation, they became my ward mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters. Feeling a sense of belonging and love eased the heartache of attending church without my family.
How grateful I am for those who became my safety net, instilling in me a desire to do the same for others.

A few years ago, I was in line to make a purchase at my local grocery store. Ahead of me stood a young woman, about 15 years old. She appeared confident and happy. I noticed her T-shirt and couldn’t resist talking to her. I began, “You’re from out of state, aren’t you?”
She was surprised by my question and replied, “Yes, I am. I’m from Colorado. How did you know?”
I explained, “Because of your T-shirt.” I made my accurate supposition after reading the words on her shirt, “I’m a Mormon. Are you?”
I continued, “I must tell you that I’m impressed by your confidence to stand out and wear such a bold declaration. I see a difference in you, and I wish every young woman and every member of the Church could have your same conviction and confidence.” Our purchases completed, we said good-bye and parted.
Yet for days and weeks after this random everyday moment, I found myself seriously reflecting upon this encounter. I wondered how this young girl from Colorado came to possess such confidence in her identity as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I couldn’t help but wonder what meaningful phrase I would figuratively choose to have printed on my T-shirt reflecting my belief and testimony. In my mind, I considered many possible sayings. Eventually, I came upon an ideal statement I would proudly wear: “I’m a Mormon. I know it. I live it. I love it.”
Today I’d like to focus my remarks around this bold, hopeful statement.

In the fall of my third year of teaching junior English in the adult high school program at Seminole Community College, I met William. He was small, dark eyed, with tight blonde curls, rather unattractive, unwashed, and, as I soon came to discover, almost totally illiterate. It was the early ’70s when long hair, drugs, and flower children were the order of the day. I thought, “Here’s another victim of the drug culture,” and my heart sank.
After making my introductory remarks, I asked the class, as I always do on the first day, to write about themselves. Looking from student to student, I noticed that William worked very hard on his paragraph, grasping the pencil in a strangle hold, licking the point every few minutes. William’s face was close to the paper, his brows knit close together.
The rest of the class completed the assignment rather quickly and grew restless. I let them leave. It took William 40 minutes to print a few lines, and when he at last handed it to me, I found it was nothing I could read. He stood at my desk staring at me while I looked at the paper.
“You want I should read it for you?” he said.
“Yes.”
“My name is William and I live off social security in my car in an empty garage in Lake Mary. I’m 19 years old and since I was 11 I been a drinker. Now I’ve decided to be a learner.”
I had never taught a student who could hardly read and write before. I didn’t have a clue how to handle the problem.
“You’ve misspelled every word,” I said.
William looked dismayed. “I can learn,” he said.
“All right. I’ll print them correctly, and when you come to class tomorrow, plan to write them for me.”
“A spell test,” he said, as though it were some magical word.
I looked away from him. “Look, William …” I meant to tell him that the class would be impossible, that his skills were so poor that he would fall behind immediately, and that there was no hope for him to catch up. I meant to tell him that he could not possibly succeed. But instead I said, “Your basic skills are somewhat limited. How hard are you willing to work?”
He stared at me.
“We’ll be studying difficult writers—like Shakespeare and Twain.”
“Who?”
“William Shakespeare. Mark Twain.”
“Oh,” he said, and after a pause he added, “I can learn.”
“It won’t be easy for you,” I said, “but if you work hard …”
I didn’t expect to ever see him again, but the following day William was the first one in the room. He took a front-row seat, and as I taught, his eyes followed me intently, his brows knit into the same shaggy line, his mouth slightly open as he listened. After class ended, he stood by my desk staring at me for the longest time.
“What is it?” I asked, irritated.
“I’m ready to spell,” he said.
And he was. He had memorized all the words, and as I called them out to him he wrote them quickly.
He stood watching as I marked his paper, putting a check by each correct word and then an A+ and a large I AM SO PROUD OF YOU at the top of the page. For the first time, I saw William smile. He took the test, folded it carefully, and put it into his shirt pocket.
“Now,” he said, “I’d like to pick up some on my reading. You got anything I can borrow?”
“I don’t think I have anything appropriate,” I said. Opening the desk drawer I began to look through the papers and books.
“What about that?” he said, pointing to a copy of Huckleberry Finn.
My hand hesitated, and then I shook my head. “It would be too hard for you.”
“I’ve done hard things all my life,” he said.
I pulled Ellie the Elephant Learns to Fly, one of my daughter’s books, from my desk drawer.
“That’s for little kids,” he said.
“It’s for new readers,” I said, handing it to him.
“I want that other one.”
Ignoring his comment, I opened the child’s book and began to read aloud, resting a finger under each word while he stood beside me watching and listening.
“Let me do it now.” He read hesitantly and with great difficulty. “See, if somebody shows me, I can learn. If I had that other book, I could work at it. I’m not stupid.”
I gave him Huckleberry Finn.
Each day I sent William home to the garage with a list of words clutched in one hand and one of my daughter’s books tucked under his arm. Every morning he came back with the material mastered. A few weeks later he returned the Twain text. “I read it,” he said, and the look of pride on his face brought tears to my eyes.
That week I gave him a bag containing a bar of soap, a washcloth, a towel, and deodorant. “This is an important part of education, too,” I said.
He looked in the bag and then at me, stunned. But the next day William was reading and writing and clean. He had progressed to the point that he insisted on taking his turn at reading poems from our American literature text aloud. And every day he stayed after class for an hour and we talked. Actually, he asked question after question, and I tried to answer them. His enthusiasm for learning was contagious, and soon three other students began to stay too.
There was Suzy, who later trained as a registered nurse; Jody, who went on to earn a doctorate in biology; and George, who planned to become a physician but died in a motorcycle accident that spring.
George’s death upset the class deeply, and we spent that day talking about the transient quality of life, trying to answer the eternal questions of man—where did I come from, what am I doing here, and what happens to me when I die? I taught the class that knowledge is power, that the glory of God is intelligence, and that all we take with us from this world to the next is our relationships with others and the knowledge that we gain in this life.
“There are two ways that most people learn,” I told them. “One is to experience—and life doesn’t last long enough for us to get all our knowledge that way. The other is to read.” I encouraged them to spread their wings and learn while they were young and filled with energy and enthusiasm of youth.
One day William came into class with a list of quotations he’d copied from the library, and he shared them with us. He particularly loved “Knowledge is the wings wherewith we fly.”
“Watch me fly, teacher.” He spread his arms and flapped them, bringing laughter from the students and me.
William (this genius—the only true genius I ever taught) was my student for junior and senior English. When he graduated, I sat in the audience and watched with pride, tears brimming my eyes. He enrolled in the community college program and continued his education. On occasion he stopped by my office during the week, sharing with me the excitement of his new world. Each Friday afternoon he borrowed one of my books, which he quickly read and returned. On one occasion, he asked to read my Book of Mormon. I gave him a copy and learned a week later he’d called the missionary number left with my testimony on a front page. At his baptism, I gave him the Pearl of Great Price.
Last spring I received a card from William. He was teaching Spanish and American literature at a large university. “We’re reading Huckleberry Finn,” he wrote, “and I’ve never been happier. I seem to have a gift for languages,” he continued. “Remember years back when you had to teach me English? For all you did for me, I thank you, teacher. Thank you for lending me your wings while I was growing my own.”

When the Church began the new Children and Youth program, I heard our children and grandchildren discuss their plans for goals and lessons. I’m almost 80, but I wanted to be part of this great testimony-building opportunity.
My children and grandchildren live all over the country, so we can’t all meet in person. Instead, we decided to hold a monthly online meeting. One of the grandchildren would give a lesson and lead a gospel discussion. Afterward, everyone would share their goals and their progress in achieving them. Of course, some goals were personal, and we respected each person’s privacy.
As I talked with my grandchildren about their goals, I began to think about my own goals. What did I want to accomplish?
What a blessing the Children and Youth program has been for me and my family during the pandemic. Even though I’m home alone day after day, I have my goals. The grandkids continue to develop their talents and grow in the gospel, and I am able to support them. We look forward to our online family meetings and times of sharing.
And thanks to the inspiration that came while helping my grandchildren work on their goals, my focus is now more clearly set on my goals, both short-term and eternal. I work and pray every day to “let God prevail” in my life and the lives of my family members.2

A sister in Mexico City was 16 years old when the missionaries came to her door. She says that as they taught with the Spirit, “it seemed like they had taken the bandages off my eyes and that the Lord was clearing my understanding. … The word of God and my prayers strengthened [me] to overcome my next trial, to face my father. When I met rejection from my family because of my baptism, the Spirit of the Lord strengthened me by whispering: ‘Keep on. Go on. Some of your relatives will become members of the Church.’”