Gospel Story Finder

In my country, most people are Catholic. I go to a Catholic school.
When I was in second grade, my teacher played music while we worked on our activities for the day. One afternoon, she asked if anyone wanted to pick a song to listen to. I was turning eight that year and was preparing for my baptism. The lyrics “I like to look for rainbows” came to my mind. I asked my teacher to play the song “When I Am Baptized” from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My teacher agreed and looked it up.
Soon the song played for everyone in my classroom to hear. At first some of my classmates looked at me strangely, but later I could feel the Holy Ghost in my heart. It filled me with peace.
That day when I left school, I felt very happy that I had shared the gospel with my classmates through my favorite Primary song. I think it was a good way to prepare me to invite my friends to my baptism.
Illustration by Simini Blocker

On a small island out in the harbor, the Statue of Liberty raises a torch for all the world to see. If she turned her head to the left, she would stare straight across the water at the gleaming twin towers of the World Trade Center. On a brisk Monday last January, she could have seen the Manhattan Second Ward Mutual gazing down from the 107th floor at the sprawling maze of streets sardined between skyscrapers that stretches on forever—the city of New York that these teenagers call home.
“There, that’s Lower Manhattan. That’s where I live!” exclaimed Mary Esquilin, pointing to the north. “And see that apartment over there? That’s where Deborah Woodhouse lives.” It was hard for an untrained eye to pick out individual buildings. I could find the bridge-laced East River breaking the pattern of towers that rise like so many mountain ranges. And the famous green rectangle of Central Park, that refuge of trees and grass and lanes and lakes in an otherwise concrete and asphalt cosmos, was clearly visible. But when it came to picking out one tiny building …
“Okay,” said Harry Lee. “You know where Central Park is. The chapel is just two blocks from there.”
I thought back to Saturday morning when I had seen the chapel for the first time. It was just another building in a world of buildings, Number 2 Lincoln Square, across the street from the Julliard School of Music and kitty-corner to Lincoln Center and the Metropolitan Opera, until over the door I noticed the bold yellow letters spelling out “Mormon Visitors’ Center.” I knew I had found the complex that houses the center, the New York New York City Mission offices, and the Manhattan First, Second, and Spanish wards (the chapel, cultural hall, and classrooms are on the third floor).
When I arrived upstairs, the Mutual group was reviewing last year’s activities and planning for the rest of the winter, then spring and summer. They had done plenty of reminiscing.
“We have a lot of activities in Central Park,” 17-year-old Lily Lee explained. “It’s a novelty to have such a large, beautiful park so close at hand. It’s part of our culture. The New York Philharmonic gives free concerts there in the summer, and there are free Shakespeare performances. We saw two plays there last year.”
Lily’s brother Harry, who is 15, mentioned other activities. “There is a zoo and there is public ice-skating in the park. We have picnics, play softball with the bishopric, play volleyball, or sometimes just walk around.”
There are also lots of museums in the area, including the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which is at the far end of the park. “The church is located pretty much in the center of everything, so it’s not hard to get around,” Lily said. “We try to plan things early in the day so it won’t be necessary to travel at night on the subways, and we always travel in groups.”
Deborah Woodhouse, 15, remembered other successful activities, like Christmas caroling, a night at the Nutcracker ballet, cleaning trash from streets near the chapel, and a trip to the United Nations building. Kirsten Anderson, age 12, said she enjoyed the personal feeling of birthday parties and holiday celebrations. “We had a fun Halloween party, and we had a good volleyball game with the Young Men one time. We made dinner for them afterward. The things we do aren’t usually big things, but when you do them with each other and use the time you’ve got, it’s important,” Kirsten said.
Lily said she particularly enjoys joint activities with the Spanish Ward. The seminary students from both wards often meet on Super Saturdays or at youth conferences. Despite the language barriers, they enjoy themselves.
Sister Linda Rane, the Young Women president, explained that the ward includes the Broadway theater district in its boundaries and that LDS actors sometimes help the Mutual with roadshows and skits. Ballet students, medical students, and musicians often live within the ward boundaries while studying, and “once we had a fashion designer who helped the Mutual girls make their own dresses and put on a show.”
The meeting at the chapel had adjourned with prayer. It was followed by a stroll through Central Park. We watched equestrians trotting along a horse trail, joggers pacing themselves along a road closed to traffic, and spritely drivers whose brightly colored hackneys painted a portrait of another era when hay, not gasoline, furnished horsepower.
As we rested near some park benches, the sun melted through the chilled air. I couldn’t help asking questions:
“I was born and raised in New York,” Deborah, 15, said. “But I have visited several other places as well. The people of the Church are the same everywhere. You may have different races and cultures, but you always get the same warm feeling all around.
“At school, people tend to look up to you. Kids are curious, and teachers get to know you and are interested in what you believe. I have a friend who says I must have a nice family because we’re not always fighting. I guess I talk about my brothers a lot, and she can sense the family love we feel.
“The greatest challenge that I feel is avoiding the lesser sins. It’s harder here because there are so many temptations, but it’s easier to resist the big temptations because they are so obvious.”
Mary said, “There are so many things to do and see. But there are challenges too. Most of us are converts. Sometimes we’re the only members in our families. So we rely on other Church members to talk to when we need someone who understands about the gospel.”
Mary, 18, and her sister Eileen, 12, joined the Church ten months ago. They were first interested by a friend who was a member and eventually came to meetings with her. “All I had heard about Mormons was awful,” Mary said. “But as I started going to Church, I had this wonderful feeling. I couldn’t even recognize myself. This was a new Mary. I’ve been a member for less than a year, but for me it seems like a lifetime,” she said.
Louis Perez, 13, and Frank Cerda, 14, said they feel New York is popular because it’s so busy all the time and because so many organizations are headquartered there. “There are people here from all over the world,” Frank said. “I think it’s terrific.”
Lily said, “A lot of people wonder if you can find the Spirit of the Lord here. You can. The things He manifests to everyone, He manifests here, too. New York has a lot of good people, and the pure in heart will build Zion wherever they are.”
“I talk to my friends at school,” Mary Ann Iavarone, 14, said. “I share my testimony with them. We talk about religions almost every day. Lots of kids tell me that our Church sounds great. I tell them I have fun here, too, but that the most important thing is that it’s true.”
“I think Eileen (Esquilin) showed me a good example of fellowshipping,” Daisy Cerda, 12, said. “I met her the first time I came to Church, and she was my friend. Then I met Kirsten, and so on. Everybody’s my friend now.”
“Having gone through the conversion process myself makes it easier to talk to others about the gospel,” Mary said. “I can tell them my experiences, that I used to feel the way they feel.”
Lily is student-body president at a high school where she is the only LDS student. “It’s a challenge, but it’s not as difficult as everyone says,” she said. “Living in a place like New York, there are so many backgrounds and cultures that when you say you believe in something, people accept it. At my school, for example, there are a lot of Greek Orthodox students, and it’s not unusual for someone to say they’re not going to a party because it’s on Sunday or to say they don’t smoke or drink. They understand. So it’s important to share all the facets of the gospel with them.”
Deborah, also the only LDS student in her school, said missionary work is a great challenge: “I’ve got 3,500 students to convert.” But she said that many students know about BYU because of its athletic programs and many of her Jewish friends want to discuss the Old Testament with her because she has studied it in seminary.
“I find that for a lot of my friends it’s difficult to get in front of a classroom to give an oral report,” Lily said. “I have to do it in front of the whole student body, but it hasn’t been hard. At first I didn’t know why. Then I realized what training I have had. I’ve been giving 2 1/2-minute talks all my life. Forget about the religious part of the Church programs and just look at their positive influence. Then add in the truthfulness of the gospel, too, and you have the best thing on earth.”
Terry Burdick, 14, who attends the Second Ward Mutual because he is the only Mutual-age teen in the First Ward, said that growing up in an all-member family has helped all of them feel close. “I have a growing testimony,” he said. Frances Pizzaro, 17, felt the gospel had strengthened her family as well. They were already holding family prayer when the missionaries tracted them out. “My brother and I joined the Church, and my mother will soon join,” she said. She also said she learned things in seminary that “help me every day. I study the scriptures every morning and my workbook at lunchtime at school. Other people say, ‘Oooh, what’s that?’ And then everybody starts talking about it. It’s great.”
Iris Rivera, who graduated from Mutual last year, said one of her blessings has been the fellowship she has shared with Mary as Mary joined the Church. “I’ve seen her grow a lot. And now we’re going to be visiting teachers together starting next month.”
The noise of Harry rattling the door brought me back to the top of the World Trade Center. He was trying to gain access to the rooftop observation area, but it was locked and a sign said the wind was so strong no one would be allowed outside.
“Sorry,” he said. “That’s the best we can do.”
And I remembered again. I remembered his patience as he explained to me over and over the subway system the morning the group went to the Statue of Liberty, and finally how he said, “Just follow me and don’t get lost.”
I remembered the wind whipping over the bow of the ferry and the steamy cups of hot chocolate the young women shared back on the pier. I remembered stopping to read plaques at the statue and the young members’ feelings of pride in their country and in their hometown that were genuine and unpretentious.
And then I remembered interviewing some of the group in between meetings on Sunday. The young women’s lesson had been on developing a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. The young men had discussed morality. All of them had commented afterward about the influence the lessons exerted throughout the week.
“These activities and lessons keep us together,” Mary said. “We share our testimonies and they grow. We treat each other like brothers and sisters because we are.”
Mary Ann nodded agreement. “From my friends’ testimonies, I can build my testimony. They are a great influence on me.”
“The lessons help me keep my mind off things I shouldn’t think about,” Harry said. “I have a strong testimony of the gospel, and I know it’s good to be together with my friends in church. I need the recharge I get from being with them.”
“As you can see, we have a lot of fun together. We like each other a lot. But the neatest thing is that when I leave, I feel the Spirit coming with me, helping me choose wisely and do what’s right,” Mary Ann said.
“I’m glad to have friends who help me honor my priesthood,” Frank said. “When I carry the sacrament, I feel proud.”
And that made me think of a comment one of the adults made that same Sunday. “I admire these kids tremendously,” he said. “New York is beautiful and fun, but it’s also a difficult place to live righteously. There’s a lot of pressure on these kids from their friends not to follow the teachings of the prophets. I think they’re real heroes to live the gospel as they do.”
The group walked to the south side of the tower for one last look at the Statue of Liberty. One thought lingered in my mind. I was in the company of heroes. Real heroes, with a mission—to live and share the gospel with all of New York City. Somehow, in my heart, I knew they would be equal to the task.

One day at snack time in preschool, my best friend, Roger,* said that if I ate my peanut-butter sandwich, he wouldn’t be my friend anymore. Roger doesn’t like peanut butter, but I love it. It looked so good—I had to eat it. I went home kind of sad because Roger said he wouldn’t be my friend anymore. Mom said that he would probably forget about it by the next day, and he did.
Another day, when our teacher told us to pick up our toys, Roger wouldn’t do it. He told me that if I did, he wouldn’t be my friend anymore. It was hard for me to choose the right. Our teacher told Mom that she thought that Roger was influencing me in bad ways. They decided that if it kept on happening, I wouldn’t be allowed to be with Roger anymore.
Mom told me that when Roger wants me to do something that I know is wrong, I should tell him that if he keeps making bad choices, I won’t be able to be his friend. Then I was to walk away. She thought this might encourage Roger to choose the right. We had so much fun together—I didn’t want to lose him as a friend.
That night for family home evening, Mom pretended to be Roger, my sister pretended to be another friend, and I was myself. I practiced saying, “If you keep making bad choices, then I can’t be your friend.” That week we said extra prayers that Heavenly Father would help both of us choose the right.
It was very hard to tell Roger that I couldn’t be his friend. And things didn’t turn out the way we hoped they would right away. But after I said it a few times, Roger started to choose the right! Our teacher told Mom that she was surprised at the change in him. I learned that it may not be easy to choose the right, but it’s what Heavenly Father wants us to do. And if we ask Him, He will help us.
Nicholas Colon, age 5Kokomo, Indiana

I am acquainted with a man who rebelled from the Church when he was a youth. He made some mistakes during this time and developed some habits. Eventually, however, he came to himself; he served a mission and returned home to hold many responsible positions in the Church. But he was never quite happy. He could have said as did Nephi:
“I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me.
“And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins.” (2 Ne. 4:18–19.)
Finally, in a night of spiritual turmoil, the man confessed to himself that he had never fully forsaken his sins. Although he had not committed sins worthy of Church court action, he still harbored attitudes and thoughts that robbed him of spirituality, and he went through cycles of guilt and despair that dampened his happiness. He made up his mind to change, and he kept his resolve. He broke the chain of sin and despair and, for the first time in memory, began to experience a real, true happiness. If someone had asked him, “Are we having fun, experiencing happiness, yet?” he could have answered, “Yes, more happiness, or joy, than I could have imagined.”

I can say as Nephi said, that I was “born of goodly parents” (1 Ne. 1:1). During World War II my father was captured by the Germans when they invaded our country of Belgium. He escaped from them and disappeared into the Underground (a group opposing the invaders). As a young child, I remember seeing my father only once or twice. He made very short visits, then disappeared again into the Underground, where he was a radio operator.
Even when the war was over, he didn’t come home right away but went to Germany with the Belgian Army. Then he was assigned to another city in Belgium. Fortunately my mother was a very strong and faithful person. When my father was away, she was the head and the strength of the family.
We were not Latter-day Saints, but I have always had faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. That has never been in doubt for me. I don’t know where my faith came from. I grew up in a typical European home. We did not go to church, and we never prayed in our home. Yet as a child, I knew. I had faith. It was a spiritual gift that I could never deny.
As a teenager, I lived with my family on a hill in Namur, Belgium. We often noticed missionaries pushing their bicycles slowly uphill or riding swiftly back down. One day they came to our house. Knowing they were Americans, we were curious and invited them in. It was 1951, and I was about sixteen years old.
When the missionaries started talking about religion, we four children were not too interested, but my mother listened and kept inviting them back. As they taught her, she gained a testimony of the Church. Then came the question of baptism. My mother’s parents didn’t want her to be baptized, and my father was in Germany in the occupation forces. He came back only once a month for a two- or three-day visit. My mother got his permission, however, and was baptized. But he insisted that we children wait and make our own decisions when we were older.
In the meantime, we attended church with our mother. I went mostly because I wanted to perfect my English. I participated in the youth activities. It was a very good experience because I learned how to sing, dance, and act in the theater. I became acquainted not only with the Church but with the missionaries. I was getting closer to them in age, and we became good friends. They were in our home at least two or three times a week.
When I turned twenty-one, I attended college in Liege, a city about forty miles from home. The missionaries challenged me to be baptized, and I had to make a choice. It was a matter of testimony. I had questions about the Book of Mormon. I was ninety-five percent converted, but I needed a spiritual confirmation. The missionaries helped me find it by teaching me to pray, praying with me, and helping me recognize the answers I received. I was soon baptized. Since that time in that small branch, I have continued to grow in the gospel.
My faith helped me when I experienced peer pressure. I was the only member of the Church in my high school and college and, later, in Belgium’s Air Force. To resist temptations, I had to turn somewhere. I could not just turn to a magazine or a book. I had to have the internal strength that comes from a testimony of Jesus Christ. Once you have faith and rely on it, you will be strengthened even more. Faith becomes your determining factor in making decisions and moving forward.
My father never did join the Church, but he was a fervent supporter of it because he could see its blessings in the lives of his four children. (My sister and two brothers were also baptized.) Prior to his death, he asked me to give him a priesthood blessing, and I did. We had a very special conversation, and he confided in me for the first time that he had faith. Coming from him, this was a major step.
With age, physical challenges are starting. At the end of last year I suddenly had a serious back problem. I was unable to move or to function normally. Through a priesthood blessing and my faith in the Lord, my back got better.
I think that faith is our “homework” as Latter-day Saints. When you go to school, you have a textbook, but unless you do the homework each night, you don’t progress. The scriptures are our gospel “textbook,” but we have to do our homework. Our faith needs to be practiced. Faith without works is dead.
My message to you children is to listen to your parents and follow their teachings. I had a foundation in my life from the teachings of my mother and my father, who were great examples. They were not perfect, and your parents may not be perfect, either. But if you can separate their problems from the true principles they teach, and follow by faith, you will be blessed for it. If you will turn to your parents and to the Lord, it will make a big difference.

Most of those who work in the storehouse are recipients of commodities. There are a minimum number of full-time staff members. One example of what happens when the spirit of this program permeates the activity is that of a thirty-two-year-old man who came to the storehouse. He was unable to read or write or even to speak. He was deeply disturbed. He was accepted by the other workers with love and understanding and was trained to accomplish a simple task. He learned to become a stock boy, stocking the shelves with commodities. Because he could not read, the staff placed pictures on the boxes so that he could match pictures and properly stack the cartons on the shelves. Through their patience and love, this young man has gained the ability to keep the shelves properly stocked with the proper commodities. Part of his compensation is provided in food which he takes to his parents and other members of his family to help provide for their needs. The happiness and fulfillment shown by this handicapped person as he receives the food to take home is truly an inspiration to all others.

There was one time when I found a card that proved to be particularly meaningful for me. I was having a very difficult time and had been praying for help quite a bit. It was during this time that I found a card from my dad. The card read, “We’re praying for you, Justin. Keep up the good work. Love, Dad.” It gave me a taste of home that I missed, and the encouragement from my dad helped me to keep working hard.
As I thought about how grateful I was to my dad, I realized that my Father in Heaven had also had a hand in sending me this message. It had come at the perfect time, when I needed it most. I was then reminded of the talk by Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles from the April 2005 general conference about the tender mercies of the Lord and how God leaves us little reminders throughout our lives to tell us that He loves us (see “The Tender Mercies of the Lord,” Ensign, May 2005, 99). These “business cards” from Him brighten our smiles and strengthen our faith.

For 67 years, Marjorie Pay Hinckley kept pace with her husband, President Gordon B. Hinckley, as he traveled the world. On 6 April 2004, her mortal journey ended. Surrounded by family and loved ones, Sister Hinckley quietly passed from this world to the next due to causes incident to age. Born on 23 November 1911, she was 92.
As evidence of the countless lives she touched, thousands attended a public viewing, some of them standing in line outside on a blustery spring day for more than three hours. Thousands attended the funeral held in the Tabernacle on 10 April, and tens of thousands more watched on television and by satellite broadcast.
“She conversed with kings and queens. She loved little children,” President Thomas S. Monson, First Counselor in the First Presidency, said of Sister Hinckley’s ability to relate to people from all walks of life. “There was no flaw in her character. … Like the Master, Marjorie went about doing good.”
“She had such a good life,” said President James E. Faust, Second Counselor in the First Presidency. “All of us would benefit from following her faith, commitment, and devotion.”
During the funeral services, the Hinckleys’ five children—Kathleen, Richard, Virginia, Clark, and Jane—shared quotes from Sister Hinckley and gave expressions of gratitude to their mother. Clark Hinckley read a letter written by President Hinckley to his wife after nearly 60 years of marriage. “My darling, … I have known you for a long time … and it has turned out as I had hoped it would. … Now we have grown old together. … And when in some future day the hand of death gently touches one or the other of us, there will be tears, yes, but there will also be a quiet and certain assurance of reunion and eternal companionship.”
Sheri L. Dew, former member of the Relief Society general presidency and biographer of President Hinckley, said that while 12 million members together cannot take Sister Hinckley’s place, each would be praying that President Hinckley would have the strength to carry on. She said that each member would try a little harder in order to ease the prophet’s burden.

A true story from the USA.
“I am a child of God, and He has sent me here, has given me an earthly home with parents kind and dear. …”
Cole’s eyes filled with tears, and he stopped singing. He asked his Primary teacher if he could go to the bathroom.
In the bathroom, Cole stared into the mirror. He had stood right here with his dad a year ago, right before Cole’s baptism. They had both been dressed in white.
“You’re about to make a very important covenant,” Dad had said. “Today you will promise to always follow Jesus Christ and try to be like Him.”
Cole had felt so happy and warm when he came out of the water. He knew he had made the right choice to be baptized.
But now, it was all different. Dad wasn’t with him today. He never came to church anymore.
Cole sniffed and wiped his eyes. At first, when Dad missed church, Cole thought he was sick. Or maybe that he had to go to work. Then Dad came less and less. Soon, he didn’t come with them at all.
Cole remembered the day when he finally felt brave enough to ask his mom about Dad. Mom had sighed and said, “Dad isn’t sure the Church is true anymore. He’s trying to decide what he believes.” She looked sad, and Cole knew that it was hard for her too.
Scary questions had filled Cole’s mind. How could someone lose their testimony? Would Cole ever lose his? What did all this mean for their family?
Cole had given Mom a hug. “What can we do? How can we help Dad find his testimony?”
“Only Heavenly Father can help Dad find his testimony again,” Mom had said. “But we can pray for him.”
Ever since then, Cole prayed for Dad every day. But months went on, and nothing changed. Cole felt afraid. He worried all the time. It was hard to go to church without Dad. It was hard to believe that his family could be together forever.
Cole wiped away the rest of his tears and said another silent prayer. Then he walked back to Primary. When he came in, Sister Snow was reminding everyone about general conference next weekend.
The next Sunday, Cole sat with Mom and watched conference. Dad was upstairs watching basketball. Cole listened to the prophet talk about his life as a little boy. He was surprised to learn that President Nelson’s parents didn’t go to church either when he was young.
Then President Nelson talked about how he had longed to be sealed to his parents in the temple. Cole froze, listening closely. President Nelson had to wait for many years, even after his parents were 80! But then they were finally sealed as an eternal family.
Cole felt the Holy Ghost whisper to him that things with Dad would be OK too. Cole would have to be patient. But Heavenly Father would help his family, just like He had helped President Nelson’s family.
Even though the answer was not what Cole had wanted, he knew that Heavenly Father had heard and answered his prayer. Heavenly Father loved his dad, and He loved Cole too.

The three other elders and I were excited to visit Nikko shrine, one of the best-known tourist attractions in Japan. We thrilled at the sculptured gardens, waterfalls, gently arched bridges, and carved stone monuments.
In the town near the shrine, we entered a curio shop which was set back from the road. The shop had apparently seen better days and was now overlooked by most tourists who favored the modern shops along the thoroughfare.
As we chatted with the owner, we found that the shop had been operated by his family for more than three generations. Many interesting objects attracted our attention. As we browsed, the owner brought over a guest book and asked us to sign it. He said that his grandfather had started the “sign-in” tradition almost a hundred years ago and that there were now several large volumes of signatures from foreigners who had visited the shop.
After we signed our names, he proudly showed us some of the signatures of royalty and of other famous personalities. He added that he wanted to share with us the most prized signature he possessed. Our new-found friend excitedly opened one of the older volumes and pointed to a signature: Heber J. Grant!
The signature was beautiful, with full, exact strokes. President Grant had given his address as simply “Salt Lake City, Utah,” and had written the date alongside. I don’t remember the date he wrote (our visit to the shop took place in 1974), but it was sometime during the period when President Grant presided over the Japanese Mission, probably around 1903.
From the experience, I learned of President Grant’s desire to become an accomplished penman and of the pursuit for excellence which he incorporated into every facet of his life. It was an unusual testimony to me of the importance of striving for perfection, and the lesson is one I will never forget.
Even though the shop owner (at that point) knew nothing about President Heber J. Grant or about missionaries and their mission, among the thousands of signatures included in his guest register, the most prized was the signature of a president of the Church!

Sisters, we must prepare if we wish to serve, and we must serve if we wish to prepare. When I was 16 I was called to teach the three-year-olds in what was then called Junior Sunday School. (You know there was such a thing in the olden days.) I taught some busy children. They climbed on and under the chairs and table and never seemed to stop moving. I was dreadfully inexperienced, and during the first few weeks I wondered if I had done the right thing in accepting the call.

But I persisted, and what I learned—quickly—was that I couldn’t just pray for help. I had to be prepared. That meant planning activities, stories, and lessons, and it meant having plan B ready, along with C through Z. Many years later, when I was called to lead a Junior Sunday School, I knew how to assist new teachers. I knew how to enjoy the children, and I knew the importance of being faithful in my calling.

During this past summer, over 200,000 of our young people all over the world grew in faith at one of the hundreds of weeklong sessions of For the Strength of Youth, or FSY, conferences. Coming out of pandemic isolation, for many it was an act of faith in the Lord to even attend. Many of the young participants seem to follow a similar upward arc toward deeper conversion. At the end of their week, I liked to ask them, “So, how’s it been?”
They sometimes said something like this: “Well, on Monday I was so annoyed with my mother because she made me come and do this. And I didn’t know anybody. And I didn’t think it was for me. And I wouldn’t have any friends. … But now it’s Friday, and I just want to stay here. I just want to feel the Spirit in my life. I want to live like this.”

One month ago I turned 13, and my mom wanted me to start reading the New Era, so I started looking through some old copies. In the April 1973 issue I read an article called “Becoming Saviors on Mount Zion,” which explained that we should never stop giving—not gifts of money but of service to others. All my life my sister had helped me and I had never helped her. Just then she walked into the room and said she had to get the dishes done in half an hour and that she was too tired to do them. Right then I told her I would do them, but of course, she wouldn’t let me do them alone; she had to help.
In the last month my sister and I have become very close. We have been sneaking around helping each other and doing our work together. You know, it’s a lot more fun helping someone. Before it was just me trying to keep the commandments, but now it’s both of us. My sister has told me how much she appreciates me bringing her closer to the Lord. I don’t think it was me so much as it was the New Era.
Name Withheld

Not long before Christmas Grandpa had another heart attack, and a few days later he died. I was very upset. Never again would I be able to go with him to the summer sheep camp.
Christmas morning at our house was quieter than usual because we were all thinking about Grandpa. I, for one, knew I’d never forget him. As we gathered around the tree, Dad handed me a package. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but I wasn’t in the mood for presents. I think he could tell, because he urged me to open it.
I couldn’t believe my eyes! It was the old Bible. Inside was a brief note from Grandpa. “I thought you might like this,” was all it said. So simple, and so like him.
As I stared at it, I had the feeling that Grandpa was there, watching me, waiting for my reaction. I smiled and pressed the Bible close to me. There were other presents waiting under the tree for me, but I knew none of them would be better than Grandpa’s Bible.

Brrrrring! The bell rang for the last class of the day. Now that Megan was in middle school, she went to different classes during the day. And there was a lot to learn. Megan was glad her last class was for study time. That meant she could start on her homework.
Megan sat down at an empty table. A boy named Bennett walked up to her.
“Hey, Megan, you’re Mormon, right?”
“I’m a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” Megan said.
“So, you think Joseph Smith wrote the Book of Mormon or something, right?” Bennett asked.
Megan said a quick, silent prayer to know how to an?swer. “He translated the Book of Mormon,” she said. “God called him as a prophet to help bring back Christ’s Church.”
Bennett scrunched his nose. “That’s crazy,” he said. He laughed and walked away.
Megan’s face felt warm. She stared down at her book.
“Hey, Megan.”
What now? Megan looked up. “Oh. Hi, Taj.”
“Sorry about Bennett,” Taj said. He sat down across from her. “What you were saying sounded important to you.”
“Thanks,” Megan said. “It is.”
“I think I know how you feel,” Taj said. “I’m the only Hindu at school. It’s hard when people don’t try to understand your beliefs.”
Megan sometimes felt lonely as the only member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints at their school. But she’d never thought that other kids might feel that way too.
“My parents say that when someone is mean it’s because they don’t feel happy inside,” Megan said. She twirled a pencil around her fingers. “I wonder if Bennett feels sad. Or lonely.”
Taj tilted his head. “I’ll bet you’re right. Maybe he needs a friend.”
Megan grinned. “Maybe he needs two!”
The next day at study time, Megan and Taj saw Bennett sitting alone at a table.
“Hi, Bennett,” Taj said.
Bennett looked surprised. “Hi.”
“What are you working on?” Megan asked, plopping into a chair.
“History.”
“For the quiz tomorrow?” Taj sat down too.
“Yup,” Bennett said.
“There’s a lot to remember,” Taj said. Bennett nodded.
“Maybe we could quiz each other.” Megan opened her history book. They took turns asking and answering questions until the bell rang.
“Hey, Megan, I’m sorry about yesterday,” Bennett said as they stood to go. “I heard some stuff about your church and was curious.” He shifted back and forth on his feet. “I believe different things, but I should have been nicer.”
Megan smiled. “Thanks. My church is important to me, but it’s OK if we believe different things.”
“I think we make a good study group even if we have different beliefs,” Taj said.
Bennett grinned. “Me too. And I think we’ll do great on that quiz.”
This story took place in the USA.

Christmas dawned on a day as murky as my mood. A dense fog had crept into the Italian city where my husband’s military assignment had taken us. My two daughters were not very excited about the few gifts they had received. Their thoughts, like mine, were with their father, who was in a military hospital in Germany.
“It doesn’t seem like Christmas without Daddy here,” eight-year-old Diana commented. I nodded, thinking about all the seasonal cheer we were missing—decorations, family parties, holiday feasts.
“Well, at least some of us are together,” said 17-year-old Athena quietly.
When my husband called from the hospital in Germany, I talked to him briefly and then handed the phone to Diana. To my surprise, she refused to speak to him, even though she hadn’t seen or talked to him in weeks. Confused by her reaction, I ran the events of the past month through my mind.
Some weeks earlier my husband, Ed, began complaining of pain in his left forearm. In no time it swelled and became stiff. The doctors hospitalized him and gave him antibiotics intravenously. But his hand became useless.
I arranged for our oldest son to stay with his grandmother for Christmas instead of coming home from college. Our three other children tried to help me get ready for Christmas, but the spirit of the season could not penetrate my anxiety.
One night was especially bad. I couldn’t sleep, so at 3:30 A.M. I called the hospital. The nurse said Ed was in such pain he was pacing the floor. Suddenly I knew he needed a priesthood blessing. Since the hour was so early, I hesitated to call our home teacher, Bob DeWitt. But Bob arrived on his own at about 5:00 A.M. He called another priesthood holder and hurried to the hospital. Bob felt prompted to promise Ed he would eventually regain the full use of his hand.
Moments after the blessing, a group of doctors conferred around Ed’s bed. They couldn’t explain what was causing the damage to his arm. Although in pain, Ed commented that it was too bad the X ray couldn’t show more than just the bone in his arm; it would help if they could see the tissue as well. Ed’s words startled the doctors, and they decided to use an ultrasound machine to look at his arm in a manner not commonly used. The procedure was later written up in medical journals.
Using the ultrasound in this new way, they located a large pocket of infection deep within Ed’s forearm. They operated immediately.
“It’s lucky we located the abscess when we did,” the surgeon explained to me later. “Even a few more hours could have cost Ed the use of his arm completely. As it is, I doubt he will ever be able to use his fingers again.”
The doctors transferred Ed to a large hospital in Germany, and I accompanied him while friends took care of our children. Ed’s condition became worse; the bone became infected, and antibiotics were unexplainably ineffective.
Days went by in a blur as Ed underwent multiple surgeries. Ed insisted I fly home to be with the children for Christmas.
So here it was Christmas morning. I held my youngest daughter close, still not sure why she had refused to speak with her father. Finally she hesitantly took the phone, and within seconds, her face was wreathed in a smile.
“I thought Daddy was dying,” she explained later. “He was so sick when he left.”
Holding both daughters tightly, I smiled through my tears. Faintly, through the fog, the tolling of Christmas bells reached us. I reflected on the gift we commemorate each Christmas—our Savior, who redeemed us from eternal death and made eternal families possible. I realized that through the Lord’s Atonement and the ordinances of the temple, we could be together forever.
Ed spent nine months in hospitals—and three long, difficult years passed before he recovered completely. But we never questioned that his priesthood blessing would be fulfilled or that our greatest blessings came through the Lord Jesus Christ.
As I listened to the bells that Christmas morning in Italy, I finally welcomed Christmas into my heart.

Missionaries taught my family the gospel in our home in Singapore. My father did not join the Church, but my mother did. She taught us of Jesus Christ and of His gospel. Even as a child, I proudly told my friends that I was a Latter-day Saint.
I always trusted my mother’s teachings. But when I became a young adult, a missionary asked me how many times I had read the Book of Mormon. I had been asked this question before, but this time I realized that because I had not read the Book of Mormon, I did not know whether it was true.
I could no longer dodge an undeniable fact: the truthfulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ and the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon are intertwined. If the gospel is true, then the Book of Mormon is true. Since I didn’t know whether the Book of Mormon was true, I now felt uncertain of everything I had grown to believe in. Confusion filled my mind, and the question—“Is the Book of Mormon true?”—remained in my heart.
My growing relationship with the Savior, Jesus Christ, also led me to a desire for the truth. The day I realized that I could not learn enough about Jesus Christ without seriously reading the Book of Mormon was the day I profoundly desired to know whether it was true.
I prayed for guidance. During this time, my branch president called me to teach about the Book of Mormon in the Gospel Doctrine class. I accepted the calling because I felt it might be the Lord’s answer to help me know the truth of the Book of Mormon and to draw closer to the Savior.
Teaching was hard. After the first few Sundays, I knew that I would never be effective until I believed in the Book of Mormon.
I began studying the Book of Mormon each week and soon found joy in my reading. The stories in the Book of Mormon unfolded chapter by chapter and drew me closer to Jesus Christ.
I read of Christ’s birth, which Nephi saw in a vision:
“And I beheld the city of Nazareth; and in the city of Nazareth I beheld a virgin, and she was exceedingly fair and white. …
“And [the angel] said unto me: Behold, the virgin whom thou seest is the mother of the Son of God, after the manner of the flesh” (1 Nephi 11:13, 18).
I read of the plan of happiness and learned that faith in Jesus Christ is necessary for our salvation. Amulek taught:
“I do know that Christ shall come among the children of men, to take upon him the transgressions of his people, and that he shall atone for the sins of the world; for the Lord God hath spoken it.
“… For according to the great plan of the Eternal God there must be an atonement made, or else all mankind must unavoidably perish” (Alma 34:8, 9).
I read of Jesus Christ ministering to His other sheep in ancient America, and I knew that He is the God of all nations. He told the Nephites: “Ye are they of whom I said: Other sheep I have which are not of this fold; them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice; and there shall be one fold, and one shepherd” (3 Nephi 15:21).
As I read the Book of Mormon, my faith in Jesus Christ brightened and my understanding of His plan expanded (see Alma 32:28).
I testify that the Book of Mormon is the keystone of our religion. The Holy Ghost has revealed to me that Joseph Smith is a true prophet who restored the Church of God upon the earth and who translated the Book of Mormon from the gold plates. The Book of Mormon testifies of Jesus Christ and works hand in hand with the Bible. Together they testify that Jesus Christ is truly the Son of God and that He is the God of all nations, not just one.

Going to a wedding reception alone isn’t always comfortable. But when an old friend invited me to his wedding dinner, I knew I couldn’t miss the opportunity to celebrate with him and his new bride.
The day of the wedding, I arrived just before dinner started. I spotted an empty seat and asked one of the women at the table if it were taken.
“Are you supposed to be here?” she questioned, eyeing me suspiciously.
I had no idea what prompted the question—or the manner in which she asked it. There wasn’t someone checking a guest list. The seating wasn’t prearranged. I was on time and dressed appropriately. What could be the problem?
I smiled nervously. “I’m a friend of the groom,” I assured her. She nodded, so I sat down and tried to strike up friendly conversation with the six couples at the table. Whatever discomfort I had felt before was magnified given the “welcome” I’d received. I desperately scanned the room for someone—anyone—I knew, but aside from the groom, there wasn’t a familiar face anywhere.
But then it happened. My friend, seated next to his bride at the front of the crowded hall, stood. As he did so, he saw me on the opposite side of the room. He paused, smiled, and placed his hand over his heart as if to say, “Thank you for coming. I know you sacrificed to be here. It means so much that you’re with us.”
A feeling of relief and happiness washed over me. Whatever anyone else thought, in the groom’s estimation, I belonged. I smiled as I mirrored his gesture. I hoped my friend knew how much I wanted to celebrate and share in his and his wife’s joy. Whatever social awkwardness I had felt was gone in that 10-second exchange, and I spent the rest of the evening infused with confidence.
Days later, in preparing to teach a Relief Society lesson, I studied Matthew 22 and read of a king preparing a marriage feast for his son, who represents the Savior. About these verses of scripture, the Prophet Joseph Smith taught: “Those who keep the commandments of the Lord and walk in His statutes to the end, are the only individuals permitted to sit at this glorious feast. … Those who have kept the faith will be crowned with a crown of righteousness; be clothed in white raiment; be admitted to the marriage feast; be free from every affliction, and reign with Christ on the earth.”1 That promise is powerful anytime, but it was especially so because of my experience earlier that week.
As I taught the lesson, I realized that obedience is the only requirement for accepting an invitation from Jesus Christ to rejoice with Him, to have a place at His feast. And that feast is one at which guests need never feel insecure because they do belong. Although I am as yet far from perfect in my obedience, I hope one day to qualify to meet the Bridegroom and with hand over heart—a heart submitted to His will—say, “I’m so happy to be here.”

Rebecca Scanlan, a Laurel, and her older sister, Ruth-Ann, have always enjoyed Christmases that are something close to the ideal. The only thing missing from their picture-perfect holidays might have been a light dusting of snow, since they rarely see any at their Woodstock, Georgia, home.
“I remember that at Christmas we’d listen to my dad tell the Christmas story. We’d eat dinner by candlelight and talk about our blessings. At Christmas I remember that I always felt loved,” says Rebecca.
But since Ruth-Ann and Rebecca’s dad, Fred, is on the board of advisers for a volunteer group that works with abused and battered children, they knew all too well that for many kids, Christmas holds no happy memories, no exciting anticipation. They had heard their dad tell stories of children who had never received a gift or a happy greeting at Christmas, children whose only Christmas wish was for harmony at home. It was a wish that hardly ever came true.
So the girls and their family put their heads together to think of ways to give these children the kind of Christmas they had never known. They decided a Christmas party would not only be a lot of fun but also a great Laurel project. The first time the family hosted the party, Ruth-Ann was in charge. The most important aspect of the party would be a spiritual message about the birth of the Savior. The party would also include food, games, and presents.
It was a tall order, but Ruth-Ann felt confident she could do it. Soon she had help from the missionaries, who had permission to tell the Christmas story and re-enact the Nativity with the children. Her dad dusted off his Santa outfit, ward members baked cookies and provided other goodies, and the youth in her ward dressed up as elves and reindeer to run games and other fun activities.
Presents, however, were another matter. With such a large group of children—many of whom had never had a real Christmas present—Ruth-Ann wanted to get nice gifts for everyone. So she contacted community groups, local businesses, neighbors, and friends to tell them what she had in mind.
What happened next surprised everyone. Gifts and money to buy gifts started to pour into the Scanlan home. When all was said and done, each child got exactly what he or she wanted from Santa Claus.
The community and ward had such a great time helping with Ruth-Ann’s project, she decided to do it again the next year. Now, younger sister Rebecca is a Laurel, and she spends the holiday season coordinating elves and reindeer, cookie bakers and present wrappers. It’s an overwhelming job at what is already a very busy time of year.
“I feel like I have been so blessed. I just want to give these children a little taste of what we have in our home,” says Rebecca.

I received my patriarchal blessing and was counseled to serve a mission because the Lord reserved a special blessing in my mission that would change my life forever. I didn’t know what that meant, but I knew I would understand in time if I was obedient.
I served in the Brazil Curitiba Mission from 2000 to 2002. Through my association with a particular companion, I was able to go to the United States to study. I knew this would indeed change my life forever. I knew my Heavenly Father was aware of me and had a specific plan for me. This opportunity to further my education was an answer to my prayers.
I knew that it would be challenging to learn a second language, but I also knew it was possible if I worked hard enough. I studied at the Brigham Young University English Language Center and spent up to 10 hours a day in the library. One of my teachers suggested we pray for the gift of tongues, so every night I prayed and asked Heavenly Father for this gift. He certainly helped me.
After I completed my studies at the English Language Center, I was accepted at several universities. I decided to attend Brigham Young University–Idaho and apply for the nursing program. I heard that it was very difficult to get into the program, especially for international students. So I studied my hardest. My friends teased me, saying I should move into the library because I spent so much time there. Even when it closed, I went home and kept studying.
When times were difficult, I remembered the words of President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008): “You need all the education you can get. Sacrifice a car; sacrifice anything that is needed to be sacrificed to qualify yourselves to do the work of the world.”1 I knew those were the words of a prophet of God, and I took them seriously.
When I was accepted to the nursing program, my heart filled with gratitude and happiness. I knew it would be hard and I would have to continue to make sacrifices, but I knew the Lord would be with me.
While in school, I met my husband, and we were married in 2007. My mother also joined the Church that year. She told me that she had never known why I was so happy, even with all the terrible things that had happened to us. But once she joined the Church, she understood. The gospel of Jesus Christ has blessed my family, and I’m happy to see my mother blessed after all the sacrifices she has made. I will always be grateful for her.
By the beginning of 2010, I was preparing for graduation—and was pregnant with our first child. Two months before I was to graduate from the nursing program, I had complications with my pregnancy, and our baby was born via cesarean section. My teachers told me I should take time off from school and graduate later. But I was so close—only two months away!
So my husband and I carefully organized our time so we could properly balance our priorities and I could complete my education. I scheduled my study time so I could give my husband and our son the attention they needed. Sometimes my husband’s parents stayed with our son while I was in class. Two great classmates helped me review class materials. I felt that the Lord had sent all of these people to support me through this difficult time.
After graduation I passed the state certification exam and started working as a nurse to help support our family while my husband completes his education. Even though I am not planning on working once my husband starts his career, if a tragedy or economic hardship requires me to work in the future, my education helps me feel prepared to do so.
Mom was right: education does have the capacity to change lives. It has changed mine, and it will change the lives of my children. I hope they will realize that I am successful because I followed the Lord’s plan for me. He wanted me to get an education, and He helped me every step of the way. I hope my children learn how to work like I did and that they come to value education as much as I do.