Gospel Story Finder

Tara listened as her mother talked excitedly on the phone.
“That’s wonderful, Kevin,” Mom said. Kevin was Tara’s older brother. “We’re so happy for you!” Mom continued. She was crying and laughing at the same time.

Mom hung up the phone and turned to Tara. “Kevin and Chrissy got a call from their social worker. He said that Family Services has a baby girl for them.”

Kevin and his wife, Chrissy, had not been able to have children. LDS Family Services was helping them to adopt a child.

“Will Kevin and Chrissy take the baby to the temple?” Tara asked.

Her mother nodded. “After the adoption is final, Kevin and Chrissy will have her sealed to them, just like you were sealed to us.”

Tara thought of something. “I’m going to be an aunt!”

“That’s right,” her mother said. “Aunt Tara.”

Tara grinned. “I like the sound of that.”

A testimony takes a lot of different things to help it grow—things like prayer, scripture study, and church attendance. Another vital ingredient is time out to think about the things you really believe. The Rochester First Ward, Rochester New York Stake Young Women had a special Sunday outing to the Sacred Grove.
The grove, which is not far from their homes, was a good place to reflect on their feelings about Joseph Smith. All the girls said it was a nice way to spend a Sunday afternoon, reverently thinking about their feelings toward the gospel.
“We went and spent time together, just thinking about Joseph Smith and sharing our testimonies,” says Laurel Sarah McKeever.
At the grove, the girls read about the Prophet’s first vision. Then they spent time in the grove and on the Joseph Smith farm, quietly contemplating what had taken place there.
“It’s a good feeling to think that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ were there,” says Mia Maid Kathy Domm. “It was really spiritual, and I think it also brought us closer together as young women.”

A true story from France.
Adeline finished drawing the last check box on her paper. Next to it, she wrote, Say prayers morning and night.
“What’s this?” Maman asked.
“I’m making a checklist for tomorrow,” Adeline said. “I’m going to have a perfect day!”
Maman raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
Adeline nodded. “In Primary we learned about being perfected in Christ. I’m going to be extra good so I can have perfect days.”
“I’m happy you want to make good choices,” Maman said. “But you know, there was only one person on the earth who was perfect—Jesus Christ.”
Adeline sighed. “I know. But I really want to try! I think I can do it.”
When morning came, Adeline was ready. She made her bed and said her morning prayer.
At breakfast, she helped feed her little sister, Sylvia. When Sylvia spilled her peaches all over her chair, Adeline took a deep breath. She counted to four and helped clean up.
At school, Adeline looked for people who needed help. Lucas had a sprained ankle, so she carried his lunch tray for him.
While leaving school, Adeline smiled her biggest grin at the lady who held the school gate open. The lady usually looked grumpy. But today she smiled back!
After school, Adeline gave Sylvia her favorite stuffed animal to play with. And before going to bed, she said a prayer. She checked off the items on her list and snuggled into her blankets. She felt very proud and very tired. She was ready for another perfect day tomorrow!
When Adeline woke up the next day, all her dolls were scattered around the floor. Sylvia was holding one and sucking on it. She must have pulled them all out!
“Sylvia!” Adeline yelled. “I told you not to touch my dolls!” She grabbed the doll Sylvia was holding. Sylvia cried and ran away.
Adeline glanced at her checklist on the door. Her heart sank.
Maman came in just as Adeline felt a tear on her cheek.
“What’s happened?” Maman asked.
“I forgot to say my prayer. I didn’t make my bed.” Adeline’s voice wobbled. “And I was mean to Sylvia. My perfect day is officially over!”
Maman gave Adeline a hug. “It’s very hard to be perfect all the time. Actually, it’s impossible.”
Adeline frowned. “But then how can I be perfect in Christ?”
“That’s just it! We can’t be perfected without Jesus Christ,” Maman said. “He gave His life for us because Heavenly Father knew we would make mistakes and would need help. Jesus takes our imperfect attempts and makes them better.”
Adeline thought about it. “So I can’t have perfect days every day?” she asked.
Maman shook her head. “No. You’ll have hard days. But you’ll have good days too.” Maman tucked Adeline’s hair behind her ear. “You trying your best is what matters. Even if a day starts out with a wrong choice, we can always say a prayer to repent and try again. With Jesus Christ’s help, you are enough.”
Adeline felt warm inside.
“Now, for your list.” Maman pointed to the list. “How about we just focus on one thing?”
Adeline looked at her list. She tore off part of the paper and taped what was left back on the door. The one item still there said, Say prayers morning and night.
Adeline smiled. “My day may not have started perfect, but I can still say a prayer now. And with Jesus Christ’s help, it will be enough!”

For some, there will come the temptation to dishonor a personal standard of honesty. In a business law class at the university I attended, I remember that one particular classmate never prepared for the class discussions. I thought to myself, “How is he going to pass the final examination?”
I discovered the answer when he came to the classroom for the final exam on a winter’s day wearing on his bare feet only a pair of sandals. I was surprised and watched him as the class began. All of our books had been placed upon the floor, as per the instruction. He slipped the sandals from his feet; and then, with toes that he had trained and had prepared with glycerin, he skillfully turned the pages of one of the books which he had placed on the floor, thereby viewing the answers to the examination questions.
He received one of the highest grades in that course on business law. But the day of reckoning came. Later, as he prepared to take his comprehensive exam, for the first time the dean of his particular discipline said, “This year I will depart from tradition and will conduct an oral, rather than a written, test.” Our favorite trained-toe expert found that he had his foot in his mouth on that occasion and failed the exam.

Patrick’s six-year-old arms were full, with a bag of books, crayons, and paper in one hand; his stuffed dog, Muffin, in the other hand; and his pillow squashed between his arms, blocking most of his view.
“Hey, watch out!” his eight-year-old sister, Madeline, said as he bumped through the hall.
“Sorry.” Patrick’s voice was muffled by the pillow, which somehow got into his mouth when he tried to talk. He reached his chin up high, then pushed the pillow down a little so he could see the front door better. When he reached the car, Dad unloaded the things from Patrick’s arms.
“It looks like you’ll be plenty comfortable all the way to Florida with this big pillow and Muffin to keep you company,” Dad said.
“I can’t wait to get to Grandma and Grandpa’s house! I hope that it doesn’t rain, so we can play outside every day.”
Dad laughed. “I hope it doesn’t rain on the way down, either, because it’s no fun to drive in the rain!”
“OK, Dad, I’ll say a prayer for no rain all the time we’re gone to Florida!”
Dad patted Patrick’s shoulder. “Patrick, I’m happy that you understand that you can pray for the things that are important to you.”
“I learned in Primary that sometimes Heavenly Father doesn’t give us everything we want but that we can still get a good feeling that He is watching out for us and doing what will help us. That’s what Sister Lawrence said.”
“She’s right,” Dad said. “I’m very glad that you go to Primary. We’ve learned a lot of new things since joining the Church, haven’t we?”
“Yes, but I want to really join! I can’t wait until I am baptized, like you and Mom and Madeline!”
Dad rumpled Patrick’s hair. “Your eighth birthday will be here sooner than you think,” he said. “And when you are baptized, I think you will know more than anyone else in our family did when they got baptized! You’ll have had almost two years with wonderful Primary teachers like Sister Lawrence, and almost two years of family home evenings to help make you very wise.”
Patrick helped Dad put the bag of books and papers under his seat in the car, and Muffin on the seat beside the window. “Dad, do you think Grandma and Grandpa will come to my baptism?”
Dad’s face looked serious, and he pulled Patrick onto his lap. “Grandpa and Grandma feel sad that we don’t go to the church they go to anymore. They don’t understand about how the Holy Ghost gave us the warm feeling inside and let us know that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the true church.”
“If Grandpa and Grandma could have the missionaries come to their house, then they could have the Holy Ghost give them a warm feeling inside too. Then maybe they would want to join the Church.”
“Maybe so, and that would be wonderful. Right now they have asked us not to talk about the Church to them. But it is really important that we show them that we still love them very much, even if we don’t go to their church anymore. Can you help us do that, Patrick?”
“Sure. It’s easy to show Grandpa and Grandma that I love them. They’re nice!”
Everyone had brought everything they wanted to take to the car, and Dad found places to pack it all in. “All aboard!” he called into the house. Everyone piled into the car. Dad said a prayer for safety as they traveled, and they were off.
It seemed to take forever to drive to Grandma and Grandpa’s. Sometimes Patrick played with Muffin and showed him all the things out of the window. Sometimes he read his books or worked on puzzles. And sometimes the whole family listened to music and sang along.
Mom had brought tapes of Primary songs, and Patrick and Madeline sang along with the ones they knew.
Patrick loved to sing what he called the “rainbow song”* especially. Whenever mother played it, he sang the first verse so loudly that no one could hear anything else.
He hadn’t learned all of the second verse yet, but Patrick knew that it talked about being baptized and about how clean he would feel after he was baptized. When the song was done, he couldn’t keep his feelings in. “I can’t wait to get baptized!” he yelled.
After a whole day of driving, a night at a motel, and another day of driving, Patrick’s family at last arrived at Grandma and Grandpa’s house.
In the next few days, Patrick had a great time visiting with cousins and his grandparents and playing in the field and stream behind his grandparents’ house. His cousins helped him build a dam in the stream, and Grandpa helped him capture some insects from the field and keep them in a jar until dinnertime. Then they let them all go.
Before Dad and Mom tucked him and Madeline in at night, they read the Book of Mormon together and had a family prayer.
Each night the person saying the prayer asked that Grandma and Grandpa would feel better about the Church and not be angry anymore. But the day before the family was to leave, it looked as though Grandma and Grandpa would just keep feeling bad about it.
That afternoon, Patrick sat at the kitchen table. He drew a big rainbow on a piece of paper. As he colored it, he sang, “I like to look for rainbows whenever there is rain! I like to look for rainbows whenever there is rain!”
“That’s a great picture, Patrick,” Grandma said. “And you even made up a song about it!”
“Nope. It’s a song I learned at church.”
“Oh.” Grandma stopped smiling, and she turned to put the dishes away.
“Do you want to hear the rest of the song?”
“No thanks.” Grandma didn’t even look at Patrick or his picture anymore.
Patrick went over to her. “Grandma, even though you don’t like the Church, can I sing the song? I like it a lot. It’s my favorite song, and I always feel happy when I sing it.”
“OK.”
Patrick sat down again by his picture and sang the whole first verse. “‘I like to look for rainbows whenever there is rain And ponder on the beauty of an earth made clean again. I want my life to be as clean as earth right after rain. I want to be the best I can and live with God again.’”
Grandma came over and sat in the chair beside him. “Patrick, why did you say that I don’t like your church?”
“Because Mom and Dad said you don’t want us to talk about it.”
“Is that what they teach you at your church, that you want to do your best so that you can live with God?”
“Yep. And we should choose the right, especially after we’re baptized. Then we can go to live with Heavenly Father.”
Grandma picked Patrick up in her lap and gave him a hug. “Patrick, I like my church. I couldn’t understand why your family would want to leave it for another church. But if your church teaches you to choose the right and to want to live with Heavenly Father, and if it teaches you beautiful songs that help you feel happy, then I think I should let you talk about it if you want to.”
“That would be great, Grandma! Then we could tell you how the Holy Ghost gave us a warm feeling inside and helped us want to be baptized!”
“Well, maybe so, but right now maybe you could just teach me that beautiful rainbow song!”
“Sure!” He gave Grandma the biggest hug he could.

What am I going to do? I can’t bear my testimony. I don’t have a testimony! I thought.
It was family home evening, and Mom had taught the lesson. “I think it’d be very nice if we all took some time to share our testimonies with each other,” she said excitedly. “I’ll go first.”
At least she started on the other side of the room. It felt like Mom was looking right at me as she began. Who is Jesus, anyway? I wondered. I had heard all the stories, gone to Primary, but I still didn’t know Him. What if it is really just a story? Mom seemed to really feel what she was saying, like she really believed it was true.
Mom ended her testimony, and then it was Tiffany’s turn. She began, “I want to bear my testimony. I know the Church is true, I know there is a true prophet. …”
How does she know that? She’s only 10! I thought as I listened to her go on like it was so simple. It wasn’t simple, though—not for me. I didn’t know if I believed it, any of it. I had so many questions.
Tiffany finished, and it was Danny’s turn. He sped through bearing his testimony, and then everyone was looking at me.
I thought about just saying I had a testimony. But I decided I would just tell the truth. They are going to be so mad.
“Jennie, it’s your turn. Would you bear your testimony, please?”
“No. I don’t want to. I don’t have a testimony. I don’t know if it’s true. I’m sorry.” Dreading what they would say and how they would react, I ran to my room and threw myself onto my bed.
Mom followed quickly and sat down on the bed next to me. She reached forward and gently patted me on the back.
“Jennie …”
“Mom, I just don’t know if I believe it like you do. I’m sorry, but I just don’t know.”
“Well, it’s about time!” she said.
“What?” Surprised, I sat up.
“You’re 13 years old. It’s about time you started questioning and searching for yourself. You can’t live off of your father’s testimony or mine. You have to figure it out for yourself now.”
“You’re not mad at me?”
“No. It’s OK that you don’t have a testimony now, but you have to decide what you’re going to do about it. You must find out for yourself,” Mom said.
“What should I do?”
“Read the Book of Mormon. Then pray about it. Ask God.”
“How will I know?” I asked.
“You’ll feel it. He’ll tell your heart.” She smiled, got up from the bed, and left my room.
Moved by my mother’s advice, I determined to read the Book of Mormon and find out if what my parents had taught me was true.
A few months later I came to the last chapter in the Book of Mormon. I remember thinking about Moroni’s promise as I knelt down beside my bed. I wondered if it really could be that simple.
As I began to pray, a feeling of peace and assurance came over me—so much so that I felt guilty for having even doubted. In that sweet moment, the Lord planted a seed in my heart that has since become a growing testimony of the truth.

About this time I was sitting in a Relief Society class when the teacher told a story of a close relative. While waiting at a stoplight, the relative had felt a distinct impression to stay where she was as the light turned green. She heeded the prompting, and almost immediately a large truck came barreling through the intersection, running a red light. Had she not heard and obeyed that voice, she and her children might have been hurt or even killed.

“But I didn’t join right off,” Jack said. “I kind of sat back and doubted for a while, but I wish I hadn’t.” His Las Vegas excursion helped him appreciate the truths they were teaching him. “I looked around at the people there and thought ‘Lots of these people have money, but they’re still looking for something to make them happy,’” Jack said. Maybe he really could find what he was looking for in the Church.

He’d previously been attending Sunday School with a lackadaisical attitude, but now he decided to take the gospel seriously and learn some more. He began the missionary lessons and discovered that it would take the gospel to make him happy—happier than banking billions from bubble gum ever could. “Once the missionaries started teaching me, it only took about a month and a half before I was baptized,” he said.

The account of Heber C. Kimball and Brigham Young leaving their homes for England certainly shows the sacrifice they were willing to make for the callings they had received. The account reads:
“September 14th, [1839], President Brigham Young left his home at Montrose to start on the mission to England. He was so sick that he was unable to go to the Mississippi [River], a distance of thirty rods, without assistance. After he had crossed the river he rode behind Israel Barlow on his horse to my house, where he continued sick until the 18th. He left his wife sick with a babe only three weeks old, and all his other children were sick and unable to wait upon each other. Not one soul of them was able to go to the well for a pail of water, and they were without a second suit to their backs, for the mob in Missouri had taken nearly all he had. On the 17th, Sister Mary Ann Young got a boy to carry her up in his wagon to my house, that she might nurse and comfort Brother Brigham” (quoted in Life of Heber C. Kimball, 265).
Heber C. Kimball’s family were also ill. Charles Hubbard sent his boy with a team and wagon to help them on their way. Elder Kimball records: “It appeared to me as though my very inmost parts would melt within me at leaving my family in such a condition, as it were almost in the arms of death. I felt as though I could not endure it. I asked the teamster to stop, and said to Brother Brigham, ‘This is pretty tough, isn’t it; let’s rise up and give them a cheer.’ We arose, and swinging our hats three times over our heads, shouted: ‘Hurrah, hurrah for Israel.’” Sister Young and Sister Kimball came to the door and waved a farewell which gave Brother Brigham and Brother Heber much comfort as they continued “without purse or scrip” toward England. (See Life of Heber C. Kimball, 265–66.)

Shelly loved to skip. She skipped to the park. She skipped to school and home from school. She skipped next door to visit Sister Jones. She skipped so much that her friends and family called her “Skipper.”
One day, though, Shelly walked home from school very slowly. She didn’t feel like skipping. Her legs felt heavy as she climbed the porch steps and opened the front door. She found Mother sitting at the kitchen table, writing letters.
“Hi, Shelly! How was school today?” Mother asked, pausing to lick an envelope.
Shelly didn’t say anything. She felt tears pressing her eyes. Oh, no, she thought, I’m going to cry again.
Mother licked some stamps and pressed them onto the envelopes. Then she turned to Shelly. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
As Mother hugged her, Shelly felt tears roll down her cheeks. “Oh, Mom! Some of the kids at school say I’m stupid! Am I?”
Mother hugged her tighter. “No, Shelly! You’re not stupid.”
Shelly leaned back and looked at Mother. Mother had a way of looking into Shelly’s eyes that made her feel understood. She knew that Mother loved her. “Then why is everything so hard for me? I’m always the last one finished with math or spelling, and I still get more wrong than everybody else.” Mother handed her a tissue. Shelly sniffed. “I really try, Mom! I really try! And you help me study every night. So why is it so hard for me?”
Mother pulled Shelly close again and answered her with a question. “Shelly, what is the greatest talent anyone can have?”
Shelly thought. She remembered how well her teenage brothers played their violins. They played with the high school orchestra. “Is it to play the violin?” she asked.
“No,” said Mother. “Playing the violin is not the greatest talent. Think again.”
Shelly thought about how well Dad did woodworking. Shelly liked to watch him as he built beautiful furniture. “Is it to build things?” she asked.
Mother shook her head. “No, woodworking is not the greatest talent. Think again.”
Then Shelly remembered how she loved to have Mother sing Primary songs to her at bedtime. Sometimes, if Shelly wasn’t too tired after studying, they sang together. Mother led the singing in Primary. Shelly liked learning the new songs with her mother. “Is singing the greatest talent anyone can have?” Shelly asked.
“No, Shelly, Talent in music is a wonderful talent, but it isn’t the greatest talent.”
Shelly thought about her friend Aubree. Aubree usually finished her math and spelling before anyone else in the class. Aubree didn’t have to study after school, so she took dancing lessons several afternoons a week. She could do ballet and tap dance. On Saturdays, Shelly liked to visit Aubree. Aubree would let Shelly wear one of her beautiful costumes and would teach her some dancing steps.
“Is the greatest talent dancing?” Shelly asked.
“No, Shelly, it isn’t dancing. Think very hard.”
Shelly thought. Then she remembered how hard it was for her to read. Sometimes the letters seemed to flip over or even disappear. “Oh, Mom, it isn’t reading, is it?”
Mother gave her a squeeze. “No, it isn’t reading. Dancing, singing, reading, woodworking, and playing instruments are all great talents, but they aren’t anything compared to the best talent. And, Shelly, you have the best talent.”
Shelly was surprised. “No, Mom. I don’t do anything really well.”
“Oh, yes, you do. You try to make people happy. You stop to visit Sister Jones on your way home from school. She’s lonely living alone, and you cheer her up. She has often told me how much she looks forward to your visits.”
Shelly smiled. She liked Sister Jones. Sometimes she played her harp for Shelly. Sister Jones even said that she’d teach Shelly to play one when Shelly’s arms grew a little longer.
Mother gave Shelly another squeeze. “And when our doorbell rings, you’re the first one there. You greet everyone with a smile. Even when my friends come, you want them to have a cookie, and you always tell them to come again. That makes them very happy.”
Mother is right, Shelly thought. I do like to make people happy.
“Shelly,” Mother said, “your talent is the best talent of all. Can you guess what it is now?”
Shelly still shook her head.
“Shelly, your talent is love. You know how to love others, and that is the best talent. That’s what Jesus taught. All those other talents—singing, dancing, woodworking, playing instruments, even reading—don’t mean very much if you don’t know how to love.”
Shelly thought some more and nodded her head. She gave her mother a kiss and a big hug. Then she skipped down the hallway to change into her play clothes.
The next day just before the bell rang at the end of school, a boy in Shelly’s class started teasing her again. But Shelly only smiled at him. I might not be as smart as you, she thought, but I can love you anyway; and Jesus said that loving is the best thing of all.
Then she put her math and spelling books in her book bag and skipped all the way home.

“This is the last time,” Jacob thought. “Then I’ll go to sleep.” He pulled the blankets over his body—from the top of his head to the very tips of his toes. Jacob held his breath and counted—“one, two, three”—then poked his head out like a turtle. He had been practicing for a whole week, getting ready for his big day.
“Jacob, are you still awake?” Mom whispered.
Jacob grinned. “Yes, I was just practicing again.”
Mom bent over his bed and tucked the blankets around him. “Good night,” she said with a smile.
The next morning at breakfast Jacob rested his chin in his hands.
“What’s wrong?” Dad asked.
“Well, I’m just not sure if I’m ready to be baptized,” Jacob said. “What if I make a mistake?”
“Jacob, everyone makes mistakes. What’s important is that we keep trying to do our best. Do you have a testimony of the Savior?”
“Yes, but I’m afraid I’ll forget everything. I want everything to be perfect for my special day.”
“I’m happy that you’re taking this seriously, Jacob. Getting baptized is an important step.”
Jacob sighed. “I want to be good, but how can I be good all the time? How can I be like Jesus? He was perfect.”
“Remember the still, small voice of the Holy Ghost?” Dad asked. “It can speak to our hearts and help us in a very direct way.”
Jacob nodded. “It gives you a warm feeling inside, like when Mom covers me with my blankets.”
Dad smiled. “That’s right. Did you know that when you are baptized you can have the influence of the Holy Ghost with you all the time?”
Jacob sat up straight. “Really?”
“Yes,” Dad said. “But remember, it’s important that you try and do what is right, and the Holy Ghost can help you.”
“I can do that!” Jacob said. He jumped up from the table and wrapped his arms around Dad’s neck. “Thanks, Dad.”
That day at school Jacob tried to do his best. He helped his teacher erase the chalkboard, but he accidentally knocked a whole box of chalk onto the floor. He ate lunch with a boy who always sat alone, but Jacob accidentally tripped and slopped his spaghetti onto the boy’s lap. He even said hi to Max, a boy who wasn’t very nice to him. There was no doubt about it—doing his best was hard work!
After school Jacob dragged himself into the house and dropped his backpack on the floor. “Hi, Mom,” he said with a groan.
“Hi! How was school today?”
Jacob hung his head. “Well, I tried my best, but I guess my best isn’t good enough,” he said sadly. He explained about the dropped chalk and the spaghetti spill. “I want to be the best I can before I’m baptized, but it’s hard sometimes!”
Mom wrapped her arms around Jacob and gave him a squeeze. “Jacob, accidentally spilling or dropping something isn’t a sin. You do need to be careful, but what’s important is that you’re trying to do what’s right. Heavenly Father loves you and is happy when His children try their best to live righteously.”
Before going to bed that night, Jacob knelt down to pray. “Heavenly Father, I’m worried,” he said. “I want to get baptized, but I’m afraid I’m not good enough. Please help me to know when the time is right.”
Jacob felt his body tingle. He felt warm inside. Suddenly, he wasn’t so worried anymore. He felt calm and peaceful.
The next day at school Jacob heard a voice bellow, “Hey, Jacob!”
Jacob knew that voice. He tried to hide, but it was no use; he had already been spotted. Suddenly he was standing face to face with Max.
Max stared at Jacob and crossed his arms. “What do you want from me? No one ever says hi to me. Did someone dare you?”
Jacob shrugged. “I was just trying to be nice. I’m getting baptized.”
“Baptized?” Max asked.
Jacob shuffled his feet nervously. He wasn’t sure how to explain baptism. He said a silent prayer in his mind. “Baptism is when we make special promises to Heavenly Father. We promise to try and keep the commandments. Heavenly Father loves us and wants us to be good.”
“How do you know?” Max asked.
“I know because He sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to die for our sins.”
Max shot out a bunch of questions. “Can anyone be baptized? Where is Jesus now? When—”
Jacob laughed. “Slow down. I can’t answer all your questions, but I know some missionaries who can.” Jacob took a deep breath. A thought whispered in his heart and he asked, “Max, would you like to come to my baptism?”
Two weeks later the day of Jacob’s baptism arrived. He changed into white clothing at the church and neatly combed his hair. Dad dressed in white too. Jacob’s family, friends, and Max sat waiting. Jacob stepped down into the warm water. He looked at his new friend Max and smiled. He held Dad’s hand, closed his eyes, and listened to the baptismal prayer. Once again he held his breath, but this time it was for real. The water rushed over his body, and then he rose up from the water. He took his first breath and smiled. He knew that Heavenly Father was happy with him for trying his best.

My wife, Ruby, and I did not grow up in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. But in her youth, Ruby was exposed to many different churches and teachings. Through consistent and diligent prayer, she identified teachings she felt to be true, forming a set of beliefs from the teachings of various Christian churches. I was raised in a single church and knew little of any others.
After our marriage, we attended church together, but I began to question the faith I had been raised in and asked my wife questions regarding doctrine. She wisely and simply responded, “Have you ever read the Bible?”
I had not, so we read the entire Bible together. As we read, I wrote down questions that remained unanswered. We began searching for a church that taught everything we had discovered. During the next two years, we visited many churches, requested literature, read about philosophy and religion, and prayed. I became convinced that the Lord’s Church was not on the earth.
We lacked wisdom and needed heavenly help (see Joseph Smith History 1:11–13). So, we sincerely prayed together, asking God to show us the way. Shortly after we prayed, missionaries from the Church appeared on our doorstep. Ruby immediately felt the truth of what they taught. Their teachings resonated with her and matched the answers she had received many years earlier when she had prayed as a youth. The missionaries answered all of my questions too, but I wanted to be sure. I read the Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, and other Church books.
We also attended church every week and lived gospel teachings. At length, I recognized the fruits of the Spirit of God in my life (see Galatians 5:22) and received a strong testimony. We were baptized, received the gift of the Holy Ghost, and were later sealed in the temple.
We have never regretted joining the Church. It has kept our marriage strong during hard times, and the legacy of being close to the Spirit of God is living on in our six children.

Anne and Kara were both new in their ward when Anne was assigned to minister to Kara and her young family. A friendship quickly developed between the two of them. Anne, a newlywed, enjoyed helping Kara with her four young daughters, who ranged in age from newborn to seven years old. One day, Kara’s baby sustained a skull fracture that required surgery.
Anne jumped in and watched the other children until their grandmother could arrive to take care of them. Once their grandmother arrived, Anne checked with her to see what help she might need, then brought dinner to the family that night. She also arranged for neighbors to bring meals for a few days.
The next day when she checked in on Kara’s family, Anne noticed that one of Kara’s daughters was worried about her baby sister, so Anne invited her to come make cookies to give her some personal attention. Anne also texted the ward council to let them know what had happened and told them she would keep them updated about the situation. During the next week, while the baby received treatment, Anne kept the ward council up to date and saw to the family’s needs. Anne’s help allowed Kara time and peace of mind as a parent in a difficult, scary situation.

Recently, after a priesthood leadership meeting at a stake conference where I spoke about a father’s role with his family, a man came up and introduced himself. He said he was going to write to me and a few days later I received this letter. I quote only part:
“Dear Bishop Featherstone:
“You possibly don’t recall the brief conversation we had on the stand at the stake conference last Saturday night. I told you I had a seventeen-year-old son to whom I hadn’t spoken a kind word in nine years and I was going home and tell him how much I loved him.
“He has caused his mother and me many hours of heartbreak, especially in the last two years. He and I haven’t had a father-son relationship in over half his life. Isn’t that a frightening thought? However, the little unhappiness he has caused us is nothing compared to the lonely hours he must have spent because of me all those years. The many nights he went to bed feeling so unloved and unwanted by me, his father!”
Ezekiel said that the fathers have eaten sour grapes and it hath set the children’s teeth on edge. (See Ezek. 18:2.) Paraphrasing President Lee’s statement, “The greatest teaching we will ever do is within the walls of our own home.” We have a sacred trust to teach our children the principles of truth; but equally important is to love and care in following the way of the Master.

I first heard about the BYU-Pathway Worldwide program when I was in India. Most Church members were enrolled in this program. I was surprised that the Church offered the program in other countries but not my home country of DR Congo. But I could not join BYU-Pathway at that time due to my intense graduate studies, but my prayer was that the program could one day be offered in my home country and that I could join and learn more about it.
In 2019, the program was approved, and I was among the first generation of students in Kinshasa to be enrolled. The beginning was difficult for me, because I had a full-time job and lived in a different area from the meeting location. But I had the support of my family and my friend Patrick Kalambayi. We both walked a long distance to attend the meetings and returned home late. Sometimes we didn’t have electricity. We were looking for places with electricity to charge our computer.
At one point, the government authorities shut down internet due to some political issues. My friend and I went to the local UN agency for help, telling them we had to send our school assignments and we needed connection to the internet to do our homework. I have a testimony that Heavenly Father puts people in our path to support and help us in times of adversity, such as electricity and internet access shortages.
After completing PathwayConnect, I decided to enroll in the public health program at Brigham Young University-Idaho. I completed a certification in public health planning and implementation, health method evaluation and epidemiology. I have learned to support the world in disease prevention and developed a pandemic health program. I was very happy to support my country during the COVID-19 breakout in Kinshasa. People were amazing. I learned more skills about how to control this disease in my community.
The BYU-Pathway Worldwide program helped me to understand that we must be faithful and improve our skills to establish the kingdom of our Savior on the earth. This program increased my knowledge of the Savior and motivated me to gain more skills and to become more faithful.
Instead of dwelling on difficulties and struggle, I have learned to trust the Lord and to pursue my education at famous universities across the world. Today I am proud to say that I earned three university degrees: one from my country, one from India, and one from the United States. As a result, I have increased my income, my faith in Jesus Christ, and my skills in the field of public health.
The skills that I learned during my journey have helped me to build a health nongovernmental organization and work in mental health awareness in the DRC. My recent experience, when I was applying for a new job as a public health specialist at the Center for Disease Control in DRC, the human resources team was surprised that I have an American degree and I live in Congo, and it was easy for them to verify this from my diploma.
The hiring process was interesting and each step I went through, I learned to be ready due to the PathwayConnect program, preparing my CV and cover letter, enjoying the interview, and showing people my unique qualifications. I am grateful to my Heavenly Father for the opportunity He gave me to join the team of the Center for Disease Control in DRC to prevent, detect and control disease in my country.
As an African, we are blessed to have an American degree, serve our community, and strengthen the Church in our local area. BYU-Pathway Worldwide blesses my life, my family, and my country in this specific time. The program helped me to understand the principle of working hard quietly and to let your success be your noise.
Whatever level you are in life and whether you have a degree or not, please join the program and work hard, the Lord knows your effort and will assist you to gain a new degree and develop more skills and the world will pay you based on your education and skills.

I met the angel who would become my wife at an institute party the second night I was home from my mission. Although Shelley and I grew up in Canada several hundred miles apart and had never met before, we got to know each other well over the following months. When I had proposed three times and been turned down because she was committed to serving a mission, she finally accepted my proposal after I promised her that we would serve missions together after raising a family. She accepted an engagement ring on December 22, 1976.

I learned an important fourth principle of achieving goals in the home at a recent prospective elders’ function. There we listened to the testimony of a man who two or three years ago would have been a tough contender in the “Least Likely to Become Interested in the Church” category. As he stood up, I recalled the afternoons I had spent listening to his wife, Nancy, tell of his lack of consideration for her and of his bitterness and cynicism toward the Church.

This warm, likable young man standing in front of us bore no resemblance to the person Nancy had once described. He told us how, several years earlier, their relationship had come to a stage that he described as “barely tolerable.”

“It was really bad,” he said, “I don’t suppose we would have divorced—we both knew that would be a horrible thing to do to the kids—but I know we weren’t doing them a lot of good together, either. Nancy used to bug me about joining the Church, setting an example for the children, and, oh, a lot of things; eventually she just got distant and sort of acted like I wasn’t there. Although she did complain sometimes, I think she was just as relieved as I was when I’d find reasons to work late or take the kids somewhere, just to get out of the house.

“For some reason, Nancy changed one day. All of a sudden, she started acting as if she really cared about me, like doing little things for me the way she’d done when we were going together. At first, I was suspicious—she’d had these spurts before, after she’d read an article or a book or something, but they didn’t last. This time, she seemed pretty serious about it, and the really astonishing thing was that she didn’t want any favors in return!”

We were impressed by his account of how things went from good to better and how his attitude has changed as a result of Nancy’s behavior. He said something about its being a miracle, and I said a silent amen.

Nancy had told me about the change in her. She said she realized one day how serious the situation had become, and she had done what she had learned to do when things appeared hopeless. In spite of the spiritual low she had reached in her personal attitude, she decided to share her problem with the Lord.

“I had read somewhere,” she said, “that a vocal prayer was often more effective, and I needed all the advantages I could get. I prayed aloud, that afternoon locked in my room, more fervently and humbly than I had ever prayed before. I confessed that I knew the Lord was not pleased with our home and made known my desire to improve it. I pleaded with my Heavenly Father to help Stan to be more considerate and to help him understand about the gospel.

“Well, I’m not claiming to have heard a voice, or seen a vision, or anything, just a thought popping into my troubled mind. I believed at first my mind had wandered, and I was ashamed of my lack of concentration. But the thought, I’m sure now, wasn’t mine. It had to be my answer, although goodness knows it was not at all the one I wanted! The idea was clear and powerful: “When you’re perfect, then we can start worrying about him!”

“As hard as it was to do, I felt compelled to make an all-out effort to be a better wife. I at least, had to try! Then a second manifestation came one evening several months later as I sat in sacrament meeting. Something was said that focused my attention on a couple in the ward I had often admired, even envied, for their close and spiritual relationship. I was suddenly engulfed with a peaceful, nearly ecstatic feeling, and I knew I had the power within myself to make our home a holy and heavenly place.

“A sensation much, I suppose, like the burning that comes when someone is converted to the gospel told me that the Lord was watching, helping, working with Stan, and that he was pleased with Stan’s efforts at work and in the community toward helping his fellowman. I understood, really understood that day, that my Heavenly Father had a tremendous love for my husband, and I felt so ashamed for the hostility I had felt.”

“I was walking several steps ahead of grandpa [President Lorenzo Snow] when he stopped me, saying … ‘It was right here that the Lord Jesus Christ appeared to me at the time of the death of President Woodruff. … He stood right here, about three feet above the floor. It looked as thought He stood on a plate of solid gold.’
“Grandpa told me what a glorious personage the Savior is and described His hands, feet, countenance and beautiful White Robes, all of which were of such a glory of whiteness and brightness that he could hardly gaze upon Him.
“Then grandpa said … I want you to remember that this is the testimony of your grandfather, that he told you with his own lips that he actually saw the Savior here in the Temple and talked with Him face to face” (Allie Young Pond, personal journal).

All of us may be tempted to let our personal desires overcome the guidance of the Holy Ghost. The Prophet Joseph Smith pleaded with Heavenly Father for permission to lend the first 116 pages of the Book of Mormon to Martin Harris. Joseph thought it was a good idea. At first the Holy Ghost did not give him confirming feelings. Eventually, the Lord allowed Joseph to lend the pages anyway. Martin Harris lost them. For a season, the Lord withdrew the Prophet’s gift to translate, and Joseph learned a painful but valuable lesson that shaped the remainder of his service.

They went to the family room, and Mother pulled her book of remembrance from a shelf and turned to a picture of a man with white hair and a white beard. She told Eric, “Welcome Chapman was my grandmother’s grandfather. While still a young man, Welcome heard rumors of a Joseph Smith, who was living in western New York, and who claimed to have a golden book that was given to him by an angel, and to have had visions and revelations. He also claimed that he had seen Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father. He said that They had instructed him to organize a new church.
“After thinking a lot about it, Welcome decided to find out for himself whether what he’d heard was true. Against the wishes of his parents, he saddled his horse and rode two hundred miles to New York.
“When he found the Prophet Joseph Smith,” Mother continued, “he discovered that they were about the same age. Welcome heard a complete account of all that had happened to Joseph, including how he obtained and translated the records on the golden plates, and was very much impressed with the Prophet and his wonderful experiences.
“He stayed two weeks at the home of the Prophet, learning all he could of the gospel. Convinced that this was the true religion, Welcome was baptized. Because of his activities in the Church and the esteem Joseph Smith had for him, he was made one of the Prophet’s bodyguards.”