Gospel Story Finder

“I’m so hungry. What can I eat?” Ryan asked. “Have a banana or an apple,” Mom said. “I’m tired of bananas and apples,” Ryan said. “Would you like some grapes or crackers?” Mom asked. “I’m tired of grapes and crackers too,” Ryan said. Mom thought for a minute and asked, “How about Tooty Fruity Salad?” “Cool! What’s that?” Ryan asked. “A special family recipe,” Mom said. Ryan got one table knife, one banana, and one bowl. Then he cut the banana into 10 slices and put them in the bowl. He put 10 grapes in the bowl. While Mom cut up an apple, Ryan sliced four strawberries. He added them to the bowl and stirred with a spoon. He broke a long graham cracker into four pieces and put them in the bowl with the fruit. “Now you have Tooty Fruity Salad,” Mom said. “I like this fruity salad, but why is it tooty?” Ryan asked. “Because it’s too good to be turned down,” Mom said.

A few weeks before school started, I was sitting on the porch with my friends Grace and Ron when the discussion turned to how much Grace disliked her father. This wasn’t a new topic for her.
“He always embarrasses me in public just by being there. It is just so annoying when he always …” She went on to talk about her father’s failings and how he wasn’t living up to her expectations.
Ron decided he would take over the conversation by talking about his family and how he didn’t think his mom was home enough and that he didn’t like the way she dressed. He didn’t think he should have a curfew or that his dad should yell so much.
The whole time I just sat on the porch swing waiting for them to ask me what I didn’t like about my family. I couldn’t say I didn’t love my family. Moving five times in my lifetime had given my brother, sister, and me really tight bonds. We depended on each other and stuck up for one another. Our closeness was something my mother was very proud of.
Then Grace said, “What about your family, Scott?”
I didn’t say anything for a minute. I was choosing my words carefully, knowing the things I said would represent what I believe in. When I finally spoke, I felt the Spirit guiding my words. There were no interruptions from either of them as I spoke of how much my family means to me and that I hope to spend eternity with them. I encouraged them to be more patient with their families. I told them to look at the big picture.
I ran inside the house and got my copy of the proclamation on the family by the First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. I read to them the seventh paragraph, focusing mostly on what qualities we should base our family relationships on: “Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ. Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities” (Ensign, Nov. 1995).
After reading that, I said, “This is what my family believes. This is what we want to be and are striving for. I know if I can do all that, then I will be able to stand tall on the Judgment Day with my family, knowing we are going to live together forever.”
I didn’t know how well my friends took this information because of a long pause from both of them. We just sat there for a while, pondering what had been said.
Later a thousand thoughts went through my mind. I was proud I was preparing for a mission by sharing the Church’s teachings on families with my friends. But was I doing it appropriately? And what would they think if I tried to explain more about the gospel?
As I was getting ready for bed, I flipped through my scriptures and turned to section 4 of the Doctrine and Covenants. Here we are told if we serve the Lord in missionary service “with all [our] heart, might, mind and strength,” then we “may stand blameless before God at the last day” (D&C 4:2).
Of course, my friends and I still have our disagreements. But I realized no one ever loses a true friend just by talking about religion and beliefs. Although Grace and Ron didn’t join the Church, I have continued my friendship with them. It felt good to explain my beliefs to them. Just because they didn’t immediately change what they believed about families or religion didn’t matter. I know there are hundreds of stories about the value of perseverance in missionary service. Mine may end up one of them.

During summer break, I took a robotics engineering class at the high school near my home. I was one of the youngest ones in the class. On the first day our teachers put us into groups. In these groups we learned how to code robots. Coding allowed us to invent ways for robots to complete mazes. It was very hard to learn, and it took our group several days to do. Some days, people didn’t come to class, so it was just me and one other person working on our project.
On the last day, the teachers decided to do a fun game with the entire class. They gave each group 20 dried noodles and 10 marshmallows. They told us to make the tallest tower. My group only had two people that day, so a member from another group came over to help us.
Illustration by Macky Pamintuan
We worked on the tower for a long time and tried our best. The tower we made turned out a little too wide and not very tall. We felt like we could have done better. My teammates wanted to quit, but I said, “Let’s not give up.” We took all the noodle pieces from the side and placed them at the top. Little by little our tower grew!
Because we didn’t give up, we tied another group for first place. I learned that no matter how hard things get, we should never give up!

While living in a small townhouse apartment, Noelle Campbell, of Houston, Texas, USA, discovered that most of the materials she needed to plant a garden were right in her own home. On her patio, she began planting vegetables in used containers—anything from laundry soap containers to kitty litter buckets.
She was amazed at the amount of food she could produce in the small containers. She then expanded her garden, still using materials collected from her home. Old bookshelves and bins became a vertical garden. The frame of an old personal-sized trampoline is now used to support beans, peas, and other climbing plants. She even uses old grills from barbecues to keep her tomatoes from leaning.
“I love the challenge of container gardening, of seeing my patio transformed from a tiny 8-foot by 8-foot (2.5 m by 2.5 m) concrete slab into a green, living, producing garden,” Noelle says.

I was making a poster for my homework and I got frustrated that I couldn’t draw what I was trying to draw, so I threw my pencil. My Mom suggested that I could read to calm down. I was going to read my favorite book, but then I felt like I should read the Friend instead. I read Matt and Mandy. It helped me feel better because Matt was having a bad day, but he tried to remember he was a child of God. I read it eight times, and I got a warm feeling. I know that Heavenly Father knows me and all my problems. If I will listen to the still, small voice, He will comfort and help me. I know I am a child of God.

After I had served as an elders quorum president, a branch president, and a bishop over a period of five years, we moved to a new ward. My wife was soon called to be the Relief Society president. She went to her first meeting with the bishop while I chased our two youngsters up and down the halls and through the parking lot and cultural hall. I had my first experience with waiting. I waited one and a half hours. When Mary came out of the bishop’s office, I had one boy in my arm and the other by the hand. I didn’t have the courage to say anything, but I just gave her a look that said, “Do you realize you’ve kept me waiting an hour and a half?”

All she did was raise five fingers and say, “Five years.” That is how long she had been waiting for me. Then I began to realize it was going to be my job to support my wife in her calling just as she had supported me in my callings.

Let me share with you the account of a lifelong friend, now departed from mortality. His name was Leonard. He was not a member of the Church, although his wife and children were. His wife served as a Primary president; his son served an honorable mission. His daughter and his son married companions in solemn ceremonies and had families of their own.

Everyone who knew Leonard liked him, as did I. He supported his wife and children in their Church assignments. He attended many Church-sponsored events with them. He lived a good and clean life, even a life of service and kindness. His family and indeed many others wondered why Leonard had gone through mortality without the blessings the gospel brings to its members.

In Leonard’s advanced years, his health declined. Eventually he was hospitalized, and life was ebbing away. In what turned out to be my last conversation with Leonard, he said, “Tom, I’ve known you since you were a boy. I feel persuaded to explain to you why I have never joined the Church.” He then related an experience of his parents many, many years before. Reluctantly, the family had reached a point where they felt it was necessary to sell their farm, and an offer had been received. Then a neighboring farmer asked that the farm be sold to him instead—although at a lesser price—adding, “We’ve been such close friends. This way, if I own the property, I’ll be able to watch over it.” At length Leonard’s parents agreed, and the farm was sold. The buyer—even the neighbor—held a responsible position in the Church, and the trust this implied helped to persuade the family to sell to him, even though they did not realize as much money from the sale as they would have if they had sold to the first interested buyer. Not long after the sale was made, the neighbor sold both his own farm and the farm acquired from Leonard’s family in a combined parcel, which maximized the value and hence the selling price. The long-asked question of why Leonard had never joined the Church had been answered. He always felt that his family had been deceived.

He confided to me following our conversation that he felt a great burden had at last been lifted as he prepared to meet his Maker. The tragedy is that a hidden wedge had kept Leonard from soaring to greater heights.

I grew up in a city near Seattle, Washington, and was not a member of the Church. When I was 11, I joined a local ballroom dance team that several of my friends were on. The team had started as a youth activity for Latter-day Saints, but it was so popular the instructors kept it going. I didn’t know much about the Church, but the instructors and other youth were so welcoming that I didn’t care.
My friends invited me to Mutual activities and weekend Church dances. I began to notice something interesting about them: they were always smiling. They were positive, encouraging, and enthusiastic about any opportunity that arose. They had joy that I had never felt.
I wanted to know what made them so happy. During six years of careful observation I learned some interesting things. My friends jumped at the opportunity to help and serve those around them. They never judged their peers for the way they looked, talked, or acted—they accepted everyone. My friends believed in speaking cleanly, acting appropriately, and dressing modestly. They valued their parents and siblings as the most important people in their lives. And most important, my friends had firm testimonies of Jesus Christ that strengthened them in difficult times.
After high school graduation, I said good-bye to these friends and started college in New York City. It took only two weeks for me to desperately miss what I now know was the Spirit I felt at Church activities and dance classes with my friends. I looked up the closest ward on LDS.org and then walked to the meetinghouse the following Sunday. I met the missionaries and began learning from them.
When the missionaries taught me about Joseph Smith, I knew instantly through the Spirit that his experience was true. Then, when they explained Jesus Christ’s sacrifice and how He atoned for us, my heart was filled with gratitude for my Savior and His love for me. Six weeks later, I was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church.
I owe my introduction to the Church to my friends who were so kind and welcoming. They didn’t allow their standards to slip when pressure was strong or their decisions were unpopular. Their testimonies were firm and unwavering. They held true to their faith and showed me what it meant to truly live the gospel of Jesus Christ.
I know the importance of always living my standards. Both members and nonmembers need strong examples of friends who refuse to lower their standards. Even when I think no one is paying attention, I will try to never waver. You never know who is looking at your example.

Once upon a time in the long, long ago, there lived a wee woman in a wee house. The house was old and the wee woman was old, but her garden was as young and lovely as the springtime.
The little old woman had one flower in particular that she loved more than all the others. In those long-ago days it was called ladies’ cushion. All summer long it colored her garden with thousands of rosy blooms.
One day the wee woman’s wealthy grandson came to visit her in the wee house. Grandmother has many flowers, he thought, but no damask roses. I will have my gardener dig up all these homely and worthless flowers scattered about the garden and plant damask roses in their place.
The gardener followed his master’s instructions. He dug up the old woman’s flowers and loaded them onto a cart. Then he took the wilted flowers over a great gray mountain and down to the barren seacoast, where he dumped them.
“Huh!” sniffed most of the flowers. “This water is too salty for us. We shall surely die.” And many did.
But the ladies’ cushion said, “Let’s see. Here is green seaweed that has grown in the salt water. If it thrives, perhaps we can also.” They drank deeply of the salt water. And they began to grow. Soon they were healthier and lovelier than ever.
One day the rich grandson’s children came to play on the beach. There, blooming on the yellow sand, were masses of small pink flowers.
“Look!” the children shouted. “Great-Grandmother’s ladies’ cushions are growing where no flowers bloomed before. How wonderful!”
The little flowers had covered the beach and the nearby cliffs. They looked lovelier than ever on the yellow sand beside the blue and green ocean. So the flowers came to be called sea pinks.
Above the seacoast was a great gray mountain. Nothing grew on its barren sides but a few thorn bushes. The sea pinks said, “If we could find food on those old gray rocks, perhaps we could brighten such a dreary landscape.”
When autumn came and their rosy petals had fallen, the sea pinks sent forth many small parachutes, each bearing a tiny seed. The south wind blew the seeds up onto the mountainside.
All winter long the seeds lay under the snow. When spring came, they sprouted and sent their tiny rootlets down into the crevices between the gray stones. There they absorbed nourishment from the rain-washed rocks and thrived. In time the mountainside was covered with lovely blooms.
Many hearts were gladdened when they saw the mountain covered with rosy blooms. The flowers were now called mountain pinks. And because each tiny flowerlet carried in its heart a drop of honey, many beautiful butterflies, hummingbirds, moths, and bees came to live there.
On summer nights, fireflies lighted the old mountain as though thousands of stars had come to earth. The mountain seemed touched by magic so that all who came there were happy. Those who grieved came to the mountain and were comforted. Those who were greedy came to the mountain and went away satisfied with what they had. When children came to the mountain, they laughed and sang and danced for joy. They called it Happy Mountain.
And the old gray mountain was glad, for it had been lonely.
The mountain pinks spread over the sunny side of the mountain onto the shaded side. There a banker came to see them. “Mountain pinks is not a proper name for this flower,” he declared, “because it uses everything it has so carefully. See, even when all its flowers are gone, the hearts are saved in tiny parachutes to carry the seeds away. Because it is so frugal, let us call it the thrift flower.”
One autumn day some of the tiny seed-bearing parachutes landed softly in the wee woman’s garden. There they waited secretly through the time of falling leaves and the cold deep snows of winter.
In the springtime the seeds burst their withered gray shells and began to grow among the beautiful damask roses. “What are you small, useless things doing in our garden?” asked one proud rose.
“We are not as lovely as you nor do we grow as tall, but we are not useless,” said the little thrifts to the stately rose. “We have covered a sandy shore and on old gray mountain with beauty. Hungry butterflies, moths, birds, and bees gather our nectar. We have taken the salt and the bitter soil and turned it into good earth. And the hearts of many people have been gladdened at the sight of us.”
One soft spring day the wee old woman walked out into her garden. There she found the thrift flowers blooming in the shadow of the great roses. Seeing them there made her feel as young and lovely as springtime again.

An interesting experiment in social psychology investigates how much the judgments of others influence the way we see things. A psychologist built a small machine containing a bright light which could be switched on in pinpoint bursts. When one views a small burst of light in a dark room, the light appears to move, even though the machine producing the light is stable and doesn’t move at all. This is called the autokinetic (self-movement) effect, and it plays an important role in this experiment.
During the first stage of the experiment one person, let’s call him Bill, is led into a dark room and instructed to judge how far the tiny pinpoints of light move each time he sees a burst of light. His judgment is two centimeters the first time, three centimeters the second time, and four centimeters the third time. After several trials he settles on three centimeters as his average judgment.
Bill is then excused from the room, and Susan is invited to be seated several feet from the light machine. She then voices her judgments each time she sees a burst of light. She begins with three centimeters, then two centimeters, and she finally begins to repeat estimates of about one centimeter.
After her judgments have been recorded, Bill is then invited back into the room with Susan, and both of them are instructed to voice their individual estimates of another series of light bursts. After the first burst Bill says, “three centimeters,” and Susan counters with “one centimeter.” On the next trial Susan says, “one and a half,” and Bill replies, “two and a half.” After several subsequent trials, they concur that the light moves two centimeters each time.
The interesting conclusion to this experiment may appear, at first, to be trivial, but in many regards it is profound. The light never moves. It is only our perceptions of the light that change. As we associate with others whose opinions differ from our own, their judgments often influence how we view things, and we, in turn, influence their view of the world.

Like some of you, I know what it is to face disappointment and youthful humiliation. As a boy, I played team softball in elementary and junior high school. Two captains were chosen, and then they, in turn, selected the players they desired on their teams. Of course, the best players were chosen first, then second, and third. To be selected fourth or fifth was not too bad, but to be chosen last and sent to a remote position in the outfield was downright awful. I know; I was there.
How I hoped the ball would never be hit in my direction, for surely I would drop it, runners would score, and teammates would laugh.
As though it were just yesterday, I remember the very moment when all that changed in my life. The game started out as I have described: I was chosen last. I made my sorrowful way to the deep pocket of right field and watched as the other team filled the bases with runners. Two batters then went down on strikes. Suddenly, the next batter hit a mighty drive. I even heard him say, “This will be a home run.” That was humiliating, since the ball was coming in my direction. Was it beyond my reach? I raced for the spot where I thought the ball would drop, uttered a prayer while running, and stretched forth my cupped hands. I surprised myself. I caught the ball! My team won the game.
This one experience strengthened my confidence, inspired my desire to practice, and led me from that last-to-be-chosen place to become a real contributor to the team.

A few days ago, a letter came to the office addressed to President Benson. I wish to read a portion of it, and then perhaps comment on it. I will not use the writer’s name. She may be listening somewhere, and I would not wish to embarrass her in any way. I will call her Virginia. With that change, I read a part of her letter:
“Dear President Benson,
“My name is Virginia. I am fourteen years old, and a matter has been on my mind a lot lately. In the scriptures I could not seem to find anywhere whether women may enter into the celestial kingdom if they are worthy. Also, when someone such as Joseph Smith had a vision of the celestial kingdom, he only seemed to see men there. I have prayed about it, but felt that I needed your words. … In the scriptures, they talk about a woman being blessed if she is righteous, but not about celestial glory. This truly bothers me. If we are all Heavenly Father’s children, then why do the scriptures say that men are to rule over women? And why in the scriptures was Eve created from Adam? I may be foolish, but I honestly do not understand. I love the gospel, and I am learning of its truth. I have a testimony, and I know that I have a divine purpose in life. But I suppose what I am asking is—are men more important than women? And can women go to the celestial kingdom also? …
“I am still young and learning, and I need help in this matter. Thank you so much.
“Lovingly, Virginia.”
Because President Benson is unable to speak to us, I will try to respond to your letter, and in the process I speak to all who are with you in this great gathering this evening. Your letter was acknowledged by the secretary to the First Presidency. But I feel that it is so sincere in tone that it deserves a more complete answer. And perhaps the questions you ask are on the minds of many women—young women of your age, women of your mother’s age, and women of your grandmother’s age, be they single, married, or whatever their circumstances.
First, you ask whether women may enter into the celestial kingdom. Of course they may. They are as eligible to enter the celestial kingdom as are men, worthiness being the determining factor for both.
On February 16,1832, Joseph Smith and Sidney Rigdon were given a remarkable vision. The Lord spoke with words both wonderful and challenging. Listen to Him:
“For thus saith the Lord—I, the Lord, am merciful and gracious unto those who fear me, and delight to honor those who serve me in righteousness and in truth unto the end.
“Great shall be their reward and eternal shall be their glory.” (D&C 76:5–6.)
I am satisfied that He speaks here of His daughters as well as His sons. Infinite shall be the reward of each, and everlasting shall be his or her glory.
In this same revelation, Joseph Smith and Sidney Rigdon bear eloquent testimony concerning the Savior of the world, the Son of God. Listen to this:
“And now, after the many testimonies which have been given of him, this is the testimony, last of all, which we give of him: That he lives!
“For we saw him, even on the right hand of God; and we heard the voice bearing record that he is the Only Begotten of the Father—
“That by him, and through him, and of him, the worlds are and were created, and the inhabitants thereof are begotten sons and daughters unto God.” (D&C 76:22–24; italics added.)
Note that in this tremendous declaration, both sons and daughters are mentioned.
While it is true that in the verses which follow, man is spoken of, I am confident that the word is used in a generic sense to include both men and women.
The revelation then speaks of those who receive the testimony of Jesus, who were baptized after the manner of His burial, and who keep the commandments, and promises that they “shall dwell in the presence of God and his Christ forever and ever.” (D&C 76:62.)
“These are they whose bodies are celestial, whose glory is that of the sun, even the glory of God, the highest of all, whose glory the sun of the firmament is written of as being typical.” (D&C 76:70.)
Are women included in those who shall partake of such glory? Most assuredly. As a matter of fact, in attaining the highest degree of glory in the celestial kingdom, the man cannot enter without the woman, neither can the woman enter without the man. The two are inseparable as husband and wife in eligibility for that highest degree of glory. If she lives worthy of it, hers will be a glory as celestial and eternal as his. Never doubt it, Virginia. Only live to be worthy of that glory which is available to you as well as to your brothers.
Some who are not married, through no fault of their own, ask whether they will always be denied the highest degree of glory in that kingdom. I am confident that under the plan of a loving Father and a divine Redeemer, no blessing of which you are otherwise worthy will forever be denied you.
Beyond the wonderful and descriptive words found in sections 76 and 137 [D&C 76; D&C 137] we know relatively little concerning the celestial kingdom and those who will be there. At least some of the rules of eligibility for acceptance into that kingdom are clearly set forth, but other than that, we are given little understanding. However, I repeat that I am confident that the daughters of God will be as eligible as will be the sons of God.
This should be a glorious goal for every woman in the Church. It should be a constant motivation to live with honor, to live with integrity, to live with virtue, to live with love and service.
Do not be disturbed, my dear young friend, by the fact that the word man and the word men are used in scripture without also mentioning the words woman and women. I emphasize that these terms are generic, including both sexes. They are so used in the scripture and have been used in other writings through the centuries of time.
For instance, the Declaration of Independence, which led eventually to the establishment of the United States of America, includes the words, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal.”
Note that the writers used the word men. Do you suppose for one moment that they did not intend their declaration to include women also? They might have said, “All men, women, and children.” But they simply used the word men in its generic sense.
The next question you ask is why Eve was created from Adam.
I can only respond that an all-wise Creator did it that way. However, as I have noted before, there is something very interesting about this situation.
In the sequence of events as set forth in the scripture, God first created the earth, and the earth was without form, and void.” (Gen. 1:2.) He then separated the light from the darkness, and the waters from the land. Then came the creation of vegetation of all kinds, giving the beauty of trees and grass, flowers and shrubs. Then followed the creation of animal life in the sea and upon the land.
Having looked over all of this, He declared it to be good. He then created man in His own likeness and image. Then as His final creation, the crowning of His glorious work, He created woman. I like to regard Eve as His masterpiece after all that had gone before, the final work before He rested from His labors.
I do not regard her as being in second place to Adam. She was placed at his side as an helpmeet. They were together in the Garden, they were expelled together, and they labored together in the world into which they were driven.
Now, Virginia, you call attention to the statement in the scriptures that Adam should rule over Eve. (See Gen. 3:16.) You ask why this is so. I do not know. I regrettably recognize that some men have used this through centuries of time as justification for abusing and demeaning women. But I am confident also that in so doing they have demeaned themselves and offended the Father of us all, who, I am confident, loves His daughters just as He loves His sons.
You ask whether men are more important than women. I am going to turn that question back to you. Would any of us be here, either men or women, without the other? The scripture states that God created man in His own image, male and female created He them. He commanded them together to multiply and replenish the earth. Each is a creation of the Almighty, mutually dependent and equally necessary for the continuation of the race. Every new generation in the history of mankind is a testimony of the necessity for both man and woman.
You say in your letter, “I do have a testimony, and I know that I have a divine purpose in life.”
You do have a divine purpose, indeed you do. There is that same element of divinity in you and your sisters as there is in your brothers. All of us are here as part of a divine plan made by a loving Father who is concerned with our immortality and eternal life. The mortal sphere in which we live is preparatory to that which will follow when we return to dwell with God our Father, provided we live worthy of that privilege.
You state that most scripture is addressed to men. Yes, some of it is, in a specific sense, with reference to priesthood duties and obligations, and some of it in a generic sense, as I have indicated.
I remind you of a great and remarkable revelation given through the Prophet Joseph Smith to his wife Emma and applicable to every woman in the Church, for the Lord said in concluding this revelation “that this is my voice unto all.” (D&C 25:16.)
In the first verse of this revelation the Lord states that “all those who receive my gospel are sons and daughters in my kingdom.” (D&C 25:1)
Great and true are these words of divine promise. The revelation which follows these opening words is rich in counsel, in praise, in instruction, and in promise to Emma Smith, and to every other woman who heeds the word of the Lord as set forth therein.
I hope therefore, my dear young friend, that you will not worry over these matters. I hope, rather, that you will go forward, living a life of righteousness, seeking to know the will of the Lord and following it, strengthening others by reason of your service and testimony, and praying in righteousness to the Father of us all. Be assured that He loves you. Be assured that we all love you. May His choicest blessings attend you as you go forward with your life in righteousness.
Always let your Father in Heaven be your friend, to whom you may go in prayer.

Melissa whistled happily as she made her bed. Today was the day. Last night she had felt a little nervous about her decision until she said her prayers. After that, she knew that she was doing the right thing, even if she was only nine years old.
She thought of Misha, and the whistle died on her lips. Melissa had been in church when she first heard of the terrible accident. Brother and Sister Barton were in one hospital with broken bones and surgeries. Tanna and Brian were in another in traction. Misha was all by herself with a head injury in still another—and in a deep coma. Melissa didn’t understand everything about it, but she did know that it meant Misha might never wake up.
Melissa was smoothing out the bedspread when her mom called. “You’d better hurry. You don’t want to be late for school.”
Melissa smiled again. This was one morning she wouldn’t have to hurry.
“What’s taking you so long this morning?” Mom asked as Melissa came out of her room. “You should have finished breakfast by now. It’s almost time for scriptures.”
Melissa smelled the yummy aroma of orange biscuits fresh from the oven. “Oh, Mom!” she cried. “I didn’t know we were having biscuits today.”
“I know they’re your favorite,” Mom said. “I decided to surprise you.”
Melissa looked into the kitchen at the yummy biscuits and sighed. Then she walked into the living room and picked up her scriptures from the end table by the flowered couch.
“What’s going on, Melissa?” Mom asked. “You know you have to eat before we read.”
I have to tell her now, Melissa thought. I wish I could do it in secret like the scriptures teach, but I’ll have to explain to Mom. No one else, though.
“Mom,” she said, “I’m not going to eat today.”
“You certainly are!” Mom exclaimed. “You need a nutritious breakfast to do well in school.”
“I’m not just going without food,” Melissa said. “I’m fasting today for Misha. We’ve learned in family home evening and at church that we should do everything we can to help one another. Well, I’ve been praying for Misha, and I thought that that was all I could do. But then I remembered that I could fast for her, too, so I decided that today I would. Mom, I just have to do this! I know I’ll get hungry, but I know that Heavenly Father will help me. Please.”
Tears welled up in Mom’s eyes. “Oh, Melissa,” she whispered, “I’m sure that Heavenly Father will bless you and Misha both.”
By eleven thirty, Melissa began to feel really hungry. Morning recess had helped take her mind off food, but back in class, the hunger pains started to bother her again. Soon it was time for the class to line up for the cafeteria.
“Melissa, where is your lunch?” Jennifer asked. “I thought you hated the cafeteria food.”
Melissa looked at the floor. “I’m not eating today.”
“Not eating!” Jason squeaked. “Are you nuts?”
Ignoring him, Melissa hurried forward with the rest of the class. When they arrived at the cafeteria, she quickly washed her hands and moved toward their class table.
“Miss Black, are you on a diet?” the school principal teased. “Your lunch looks a little on the light side.”
“Oh, ah …” Melissa stammered, but the principal’s attention had turned to a commotion in the snack-bar line. Whew! Melissa thought. That was a close one. She walked quickly to her table and sat at the end of the bench.
“May I sit by you?” Tiffany asked.
“Sure.”
“I see you’re not eating today. Do you feel OK?”
“Oh sure, it’s just that … well, I’m just not eating.” It sure would be easier if I could just explain. I hope no one else asks me about this.
“Melissa,” said Megan, “why—”
Melissa stood up. “Excuse me.” She started toward the door.
“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?”
Melissa’s heart jumped. She turned and saw Mr. Winterton.
“Mr. Winterton,” she began. “I need to … to …” She didn’t want to lie, but she needed to be alone for a few minutes. “I need to go someplace quiet,” she finally blurted.
Mr. Winterton’s face crinkled in puzzlement. This was indeed an unusual request—one that he had never heard in three years of cafeteria duty. He studied Melissa a long moment, then surprised himself by saying, “All right, I think we can work that out. Come sit quietly outside this side door. No one should bother you there.”
Grateful, Melissa slipped through the doorway and sat down against the wall. The coolness of the cement blocks felt good against her hot back. She bowed her head and began a silent prayer. Dear Heavenly Father, please help Misha and her family get better. I know that Thou lovest me and that Thou lovest Misha. Please help her to get better and wake up. Please!
As Melissa ended the prayer in Jesus’ name, and sat quietly, a comforting warmth filled her, and she felt peaceful and happy. She knew in her heart that Heavenly Father had heard her prayer, and she was glad that she’d done everything she could to help Misha get better. She no longer felt hungry. She wasn’t worried about what to say to her friends, either. The Spirit was with her, and right now she didn’t need anything else.

It worried me when I noticed that my good friend was not coming to church anymore. Her close friend, I found, had recently passed away, and she was beginning to doubt. One day I invited her to a party with some girls from church. I made it a goal to bring up the Church once. After the others left, we talked about various Church topics that I would have never thought to talk to her about. I learned that by doing my part, the Lord will take care of the rest. All we need to do is open our mouths (see D&C 28:16).

Rebecca T., 16, Washington, USA

When I was 21, missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints were teaching English classes in my area of Russia. I initially attended for the language lessons, but I soon began to stay longer for the spiritual thoughts the elders shared after class and to ask them questions.
I had been raised in the predominant religion of my country, but I had lots of unanswered religious questions. The missionaries and the members of their Church had answers to questions that no one in the past had been able to provide to my satisfaction.
Feeling particularly bold after one English class, I asked the missionaries for a copy of their book, the Book of Mormon. But when I got home, I placed it unread on a shelf.
It didn’t stay there long, however. I’d heard members of the Church who attended the English class say that the scriptures had solutions to problems. So when I encountered personal challenges or problems, I pulled the Book of Mormon off the shelf and began to read. Invariably, I found answers—the kind of answers that told me exactly what I needed to know.
At that point I began to feel that I could not live without the Church. It was where I wanted to be. It was where I felt I belonged.
Still, I wanted to be sure by asking God. The problem was that I lived in a small one-room apartment that I shared with my landlord, an elderly woman, and there was no private place for me to pray. But one evening I slipped by myself into the kitchen—slightly separated from the rest of our home—and asked Heavenly Father if the Church was true. I received such a strong feeling in response that I knew what I needed to do.
I was baptized a short while later, and my time as a member of the Church has been the happiest of my life. Where before I had questions, now I have answers. Where before I felt empty, now I feel full.
I am grateful that Heavenly Father has not left us without answers. I know that He will speak to us, both through prayer and through the scriptures.

Illustrated by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
Everybody get the prettiest leaf you can find. We’ll make pictures with them back in the classroom.
This is the best leaf in the park! It’s huge!
You mean it’s second best. Look at the color of this one!
Hah! Your leaf’s tiny!
Yours is ugly!
Oh yeah?
Yeah!
Don’t fight. Your leaves are both best. This one’s best for making a spaceship, and this one’s best for making a dragon.
Where did you learn to be such a good peacemaker?
Watching Mom make peace between Matt and me.

One of my most memorable missionary experiences took place in a cold, damp basement apartment of a nonmember in Edmonton, Canada. My companion and I were trying to help a man who had smoked many cigarettes every day all his life to live the Word of Wisdom, and he had called us to his humble residence one night to admit defeat. He said, “I have made every effort humanly possible, and I just can’t quit smoking. I know the gospel is true and I want to be baptized, but I’ll never be able to overcome this habit.”

Our reply to this defeated man was, “Don’t give up. You can quit smoking because there is superhuman power that can give you the strength and courage you need.”

We asked him to read these comforting and reassuring words from Paul: “There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.” (1 Cor. 10:13.)

Then we knelt with him and asked the Lord to give him the courage and the determination necessary to place his life in order so that he and his family could be baptized. What a testimony-building experience it was for a nineteen-year-old boy to witness the changes in this man’s life as the Spirit of the Lord magnified his strength, helping him resist temptation and live God’s commandments!

For Kelvin Gwala, the opportunity to serve on the Durban Temple Committee was a blessing that initially came with concern.
As a resident of Umlazi, South Africa, Brother Gwala had a round trip drive of about sixty kilometers each time he traveled to Berea for committee meetings, which were held for almost a year with increasing frequency. If it wasn’t a temple committee meeting, he needed to attend on a Sunday, he traveled to practice with one of the temple dedication choirs. He made additional mid-week trips to attend stake training meetings since he also serves as the Durban Stake clerk.
About the same time, he was asked to serve on the committee, the price of petrol began to rise dramatically, and food prices increased. Each time he needed to drive to Berea for a meeting, he would sit and wonder where he was going to get money for fuel. But, he says, somehow, someway, he would end up in Berea, the small amount of fuel he had in his car lasting longer than he thought it would.
“At first,” he says, “I felt like it was putting a strain on my budget. But at the end of the month, we would be fine. To my amazement, the Lord saw us through.”
Those first worries about his tight budget, Brother Gwala now believes, were just negative thoughts that could have stopped him from serving. Instead, he made a faithful effort and experienced what he calls “my own miracle.”
As he reflected on his experiences, he came to an important conclusion: “The Lord just wants us to start,” he says. “No matter how difficult a situation might look, if you start, then the Lord does meet you halfway. For me, those were the blessings. [We] were living on a tight budget, then you pay your fast offering and your tithing, but the Lord saw us through, and the family managed well. The Lord did bless us and continues to bless us.”

“Oh no, not again,” I thought, as I saw the familiar face walking toward me in the hallway of my college dorm. “What this time?”
Angela [names have been changed] had accosted me in the hallway before, and each time I talked to her she left my stomach tied up in knots. I had been investigating The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for a month, and Angela had taken it upon herself to prove that I was making a big mistake.
Angela invited me to her dorm room for a talk, and I accepted warily, knowing from past experience that she would not leave me alone until I’d heard what she had to say.
“How are you feeling about the Mormons at this point?” she asked me, as I sat on her bed, folding my arms defensively.
“Fine. Actually I think what they believe is quite beautiful. I haven’t decided if I believe it yet …”
“Beautiful?” Angela choked on the word, her face turning red. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you go on. Not after what I’ve found out about the Mormon religion.”
She handed me a pamphlet filled with lies and twisted truths about the Church. “Read this,” she confided, “and you’ll never want to talk to those missionaries again.”
I read it and the other things well-meaning people gave me to try to show me “the truth” about the Church. I always ended up feeling confused and sick to my stomach. How could I ever know what was right? The missionaries seemed so peaceful about what they believed. Yet Angela was convinced they were wrong. How could I find my own testimony of what was true? And why did there seem to be silence from the heavens when I prayed about my questions?
I believed the missionaries instead of the clever words of those who opposed the Church. Then I acted upon that belief. I was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When I rose up out of the waters of baptism, a warm feeling of peace enveloped me. I knew the Holy Ghost was telling me that what I was doing was good. I had found the truth. Even though I faced much opposition from my parents and friends, I was able to stand strong because of the testimony I had received from obeying the commandments of God.

Two of my own great-grandparents fit the mold of many. Gibson and Cecelia Sharp Condie lived in Clackmannan, Scotland. Their families were engaged in coal mining—at peace with the world, surrounded by relatives and friends, and housed in fairly comfortable quarters in a land they loved. They listened to the message of the missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and were converted to the depths of their very souls. They heard the call to journey to Zion and knew they must answer that call.

They sold their possessions and prepared for a hazardous voyage across the mighty Atlantic Ocean. With five children, they boarded a sailing vessel, all their worldly possessions in a tiny trunk. They traveled 3,000 miles across the waters, eight long, weary weeks on a treacherous sea—night and day nothing but water—eight weeks of watching and waiting, with poor food, poor water, and no help beyond the length and breadth of that small sailing vessel.

In the midst of this soul-trying situation, their son, Nathaniel, sickened and died. My great-grandparents loved that son just as much as your parents love you; and when his eyes were closed in death, their hearts were torn asunder. To add to their grief, the law of the sea must be obeyed. Wrapped in a canvas weighed down with iron, his body was consigned to a watery grave. As they sailed away, only those parents knew the crushing blow dealt to wounded hearts. Gibson Condie and his good wife were comforted by the words “Not my will, but Thy will, O Father.”