Gospel Story Finder

In high school I began running cross-country and track, but I didn’t really know much about distance running. I had a friend, though, who had run long distance in another state, and he helped me capture a vision of how to succeed. That influence and the inward determination to follow through helped me learn discipline and to be a successful runner in high school and at Brigham Young University.
Running wasn’t something that came easily for me. It took a lot of work—hard work. I studied and applied different training techniques. I read about distance runners who were setting world records and how they trained. A highlight for me was when a friend and I rode a bus all night to watch a world-class indoor track meet in a distant city. Success came as I caught the vision, studied, applied what I learned, and disciplined myself to achieve my goals.
The lessons I learned from running helped prepare me for my mission.

Several years ago I met one of our sons in the mission field in a distant part of the world. He had been there for a year. His first question was this: “Dad, what can I do to grow spiritually? I have tried so hard to grow spiritually, and I just haven’t made any progress.”
That was his perception: to me it was otherwise. I could hardly believe the maturity, the spiritual growth that he had gained in just one year. He “knew it not,” for it had come as growth, not as a startling spiritual experience.

Then, several years later, after I had moved from home, I faced a serious crisis that left me with deep emotional and spiritual pain. Without the necessary faith in Christ to guide me, I felt lost and alone. I had stopped praying sometime earlier and had just recently decided that I would no longer go to church.
Just at that point in my life, my home teachers, Dan and Terry, came by. I was a little embarrassed because I hadn’t been to church that day and had no good excuse for my absence. The Spirit told them that something was seriously wrong, so they persisted in presenting a lesson that seemed to be especially for me. They visited with me for a while, and when it was time for them to go, they offered a powerful prayer. The Spirit lingered after them for a short time, and I felt more hopeful than I had in a long time.
I wanted that Spirit to remain. I gathered up the remnants of my faith and offered a prayer. Because I hadn’t been praying for a while, I had no real hope or expectation of an answer. But as I knelt and prayed, a black cloud lifted, and I felt an overpowering warmth come into my heart. Complete love and understanding filled the room. I was surprised at the depth and strength of the Savior’s love—how well he knew me!
There was no room for misunderstanding or doubt as he lovingly empathized with my challenges. All of a sudden, words came into my mind, telling me where I could improve. And the Savior promised me all the help I would need. I learned that there is indeed a loving Heavenly Father and a Savior, Jesus Christ, and that they know each of us as individuals. I also learned that they will give us the help we need as we extend our faith in them. And I knew that, no matter what, we must always pray.
Although I still had problems to overcome, I knew the Savior was there, ready to help. I have never felt completely alone with my problems since. I can now say, along with the hymn, “I know that my Redeemer lives.” And I am grateful.

I would like to give you my own experience. While serving as president of the Calgary Stake in Alberta, Canada, I was attending the general conference in Salt Lake City in October, 1960. On Friday evening I received a call at the Hotel Utah, where I was staying, advising me that President McKay wanted to see me Saturday morning—the next morning. Naturally, not knowing what he wanted, I slept very little that night. I met him in his office at the appointed hour. As I sat in a chair facing him, he looked me in the eye, put his hand on my knee, and said, “President Tanner, the Lord would like you to accept a call as a General Authority, as an Assistant to the Twelve.” Then he asked how I felt about it.
I do not know exactly what I said. I tried to assure him that I felt highly honored and very inadequate, but ready and willing to accept a call and to give my whole time and effort in the service of the Lord.
That morning my name was read, along with the names of Elders Franklin D. Richards and Theodore M. Burton, to be sustained as Assistants to the Twelve, with the other general officers of the Church. We were approved by the conference. Officers throughout the Church are selected in much the same way at their particular level.
At this point I might answer the question of how we deal with a dissenting vote. We had one at the October 1977 conference. Some of you heard the proceedings and will remember that the dissenter wanted his vote recorded. This is the way we deal with a dissenting vote: all the people other than this one voted to sustain those who were presented, so I asked him to see a member of the Twelve. The purpose of asking him to see somebody is so that he can report why he was not prepared to support the slate of officers. That gives him an opportunity, if he knows some good reason why a person should not be or is not qualified to be sustained, to tell the person assigned to see him; this person can then advise the First Presidency.
I should like to tell you of an experience I had when I was called to go to New Zealand to reorganize a stake. I had never met anybody living in New Zealand, other than the president of the stake at that time. I asked for a list of the bishops and high council in that New Zealand stake, and as I read over the list I saw one name that just seemed to stand out. The name was Campbell. Each time I read the list I noticed it. Bishop Vandenberg was with me, and we interviewed all these people, after having prayed that we might be guided.
After all the interviews I said to Brother Vandenberg, “Let us call upon the Lord for direction.” We did, and as we stood up I asked, “If you had the responsibility, whom would you choose as president of this stake?”
He said, “Bill Campbell.” I had never mentioned his name to Bishop Vandenberg. This was another evidence that the Lord does direct these appointments.

Many times, teachers and friends told Spencer that he would not get very far drawing, but he knew that his talent was a gift from God and that he should not hide it. He continued drawing with the support of his family. Spencer said, “When I draw, I really like listening to music. I am a rock fan and a donut fan too. My favorite superhero is Spiderman, and when I saw him on television, I wanted to draw him. That’s how I began to develop my talent.”

One day I remembered something my mission president had taught years earlier. I had been called to a foreign-language mission. Learning the Russian language was a challenge of varying degrees for each missionary, and our mission president counseled us to read the Book of Mormon in Russian every day. He promised us that the power of the Book of Mormon would aid us in our ability to communicate in Russian. He was right. Over time I became better at both speaking and understanding the language, and my testimony grew.

My great-grandma’s candy dish doesn’t hold a lot of candy these days. Instead, it sparkles under the display lights in my grandpa’s cabinet, and the lights reflect off the grooves of the crystal in the dish. Most people save things to remind them of happy memories, but my grandpa has saved this candy dish to remind him of an important lesson.
When my grandpa was 10, his family had a rule against playing ball in the house. But he loved basketball, so one day when it was raining outside, you can guess what he decided to do. Instead of following the rules, he went into the living room to play basketball, and it quickly got him into trouble.
He threw a pass, and the basketball hit the bracket of an antique mirror, causing the mirror to fall onto a grand piano where his mom displayed her crystal collection. The mirror shattered onto the piano and broke all the crystal dishes except one single candy dish.
When his mom came to see what had happened, she sent him to his room. He felt awful; he knew she loved those dishes. His dad came to his room and they discussed a punishment. Then, his mom entered the room with a wrapped box. Inside was the surviving candy dish. His mom said, “I’m giving you this dish to remind you that I love you more than any of the dishes you broke.”
One day that candy dish will be passed down to my mom and then to me, but we could never sell it. In our family, the candy dish represents how much love a mother has for her children. Even though Great-Grandma lost nearly her entire crystal collection, she gained something even more important—a stronger relationship with her son.
Material possessions can be replaced, but families are worth a lot more than crystal. Family members are the most important people. My family, including my mom, dad, and brothers, mean more to me than anything else. I’d give up a million crystal dishes to be with my family forever.

For one year, I taught English as a second language at the Universidad de Piura, in Piura, Peru. Piura was the headquarters city for the Peru Piura Mission.
The mission president, Chad Rowley, and his wife, Lisa, lived in my ward. They asked me to give English lessons to the missionaries serving in Piura. I accepted.
Using the Church’s English-language training program, I would meet with different groups of missionaries at the mission office to teach them English. It was a great spiritual experience for me to work with and get to know missionaries from South America and the United States. Weekday afternoons worked best because the city tended to be pretty quiet for missionary work until early evening.
Toward the end of my time in Piura, I was feeling homesick and worn out emotionally and professionally. One Friday afternoon, I was feeling particularly lethargic and depressed. I hoped the classes would be canceled because of missionary work, which took precedence over English lessons. That afternoon, however, that was not the case.
I left my apartment late and trudged to the mission office. As I walked through a park on the way, I prayed. I told Heavenly Father that I couldn’t endure one more minute, much less one more week. I was exhausted mentally and physically, and I needed His help.
I arrived at the mission office and went upstairs to wait for the missionaries. When they arrived for their lesson, I had no idea what to teach them. But to start, I asked one of the elders to say an opening prayer in English.
As the missionary began to pray, he said, “Please bless Sister Johnson.” Then he paused. When he continued, he added, “Please bless her to continue with the same strength as in the beginning.”
That missionary did not know I had prayed on my way to the mission office, and he certainly didn’t know what I had prayed about. But Heavenly Father did, and He answered that prayer by strengthening me.
There I was—a US citizen in Peru who was prayed for by name by a missionary from Bolivia. What a healing balm that afternoon at the mission office was. And what a powerful lesson I learned that day. No matter who or where we are—Heavenly Father hears and answers our spoken and unspoken prayers.

A couple years ago, I was very frustrated. I was trying to make new friends, and my family was having problems. After the terrorist attacks on 11 September 2001, I was worried about the possibility of war and was scared that something else bad would happen to the United States. Focusing on all the negative things going on around me made my own battle with Satan more difficult. I needed to be comforted.
My brother, Jordan, had just left on his mission. He was the peacemaker in the home, and I could always talk to him when I was troubled. In a letter, his advice to me was to read the scriptures. I opened the scriptures and read D&C 75:10: “Calling on the name of the Lord for the Comforter, which shall teach them all things that are expedient for them.”
I got a feeling to pray for comfort and answers. When I did, the Spirit came to me, and my heart felt warm. I felt that the scriptures are true and that if I lived righteously, I didn’t have to worry. My prayer calmed me, and I didn’t worry anymore.

Several years ago, the Salt Lake City newspapers published an obituary notice of a close friend—a mother and wife taken by death in the prime of her life. I visited the mortuary and joined a host of persons gathered to express condolence to the distraught husband and motherless children. Suddenly the smallest child, Kelly, recognized me and took my hand in hers. “Come with me,” she said, and she led me to the casket in which rested the body of her beloved mother. “I’m not crying,” she said, “and neither must you. Many times my mommy told me about death and life with Heavenly Father. I belong to my mommy and my daddy. We’ll all be together again.” To my mind came the words of the Psalmist: “Out of the mouth of babes … hast thou ordained strength.” (Ps. 8:2.)
Through tear-moistened eyes, I saw my young friend’s beautiful and faith-filled smile. For her, whose tiny hand yet clasped mine, there would never be a hopeless dawn. Sustained by her unfailing testimony, knowing that life continues beyond the grave, she, her father, her brothers, her sisters, and indeed all who share this knowledge of divine truth can declare to the world: “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” (Ps. 30:5.)

My family joined the Church in 1977, when I was 11 years old. At that time a violent civil war was beginning in our native land of El Salvador. The political situation was serious, and there were constant armed confrontations between the army and the rebels, forcing the government to order a curfew of 6:00 p.m. for all citizens. There was no freedom of assembly or freedom of speech, and we felt threatened by both the army and the rebels.
These events caused many people to look for ways to emigrate to wherever they could. My family was no exception. My father accepted an offer of employment in Venezuela, hoping he could get us out of danger. For a time my mother was left as the head of our household.
The war made it a difficult time for the Church. The same flight that took my father to Venezuela took the last 15 missionaries out of El Salvador. This meant the end of any chance to receive the messengers of the gospel of Jesus Christ for a long time.
At the end of 1979 we and other members of the Church, especially the youth, began doing missionary work of our own. We organized small choirs and sang in the streets to give people hope. By doing this we found many people wanting to learn about the gospel.
Meanwhile we learned to live in danger. Whenever the confrontations or shelling occurred, we threw ourselves on the floor and hoped it would all be over soon. Mama would cover us with our mattresses for protection. What brought peace to us in these difficult moments were the hymns. Lying on the floor, we would hold our hymnbooks, and Mama would encourage us to sing “Come, Come, Ye Saints” (Hymns, no. 30), “How Firm a Foundation” (no. 85), “Joseph Smith’s First Prayer” (no. 26), “High on the Mountain Top” (no. 5), “O My Father” (no. 292), “I Stand All Amazed” (no. 193), and many other hymns that comforted us in our adversity. We often cried from the stress, but singing the hymns gave us the courage to face such a terrible situation.
Some time later Papa succeeded in bringing us to Venezuela, where we began a new life. We thanked our Heavenly Father for keeping us together and alive. Through this experience, I learned that the hymns invite a spirit of peace during difficult times.
Ana Gloria Hernández de Abzuela, Venezuela

Kim listened as her grandmother told the family about her mission call. “I’m going to work in the Denver Temple. I’ll be an ordinance worker there.”
Denver! It was over fifteen hundred miles away. Kim had learned that in her fourth grade geography class. “Why do you have to go there?” she asked.
Grandma turned to her. “I don’t have to go there, Kimmy. I want to. That’s where the Lord needs me.”
“But we need you here.”
Grandma smiled. “I’m glad that you want me to stay. But it’s time I started getting on with my life again. Ever since your grandpa died, …” She didn’t finish, and Kim watched as tears rolled down Grandma’s cheeks.
Kim’s grandfather had died the year before. Since then, her grandmother didn’t smile as much as she used to. And when she did smile, the smile didn’t reach her eyes. It stayed right on her lips as if it was too tired to stretch any farther. Kim remembered when her grandmother was always smiling. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, sending little lines to turn up at the edges.
“Laugh lines,” Grandpa had called them. He had liked to tease Grandma, and he’d laughed when her cheeks turned rosy with embarrassment. Grandma pretended she was mad at him, but Kim knew she wasn’t.
When Grandpa died, things changed. Grandma came to live with Kim’s family, but she didn’t bustle around as she had before. Mostly she sat by the window, staring out. Once when Kim asked her what she was looking at, Grandma smiled one of her half-smiles and said, “I’m remembering, child,” and Kim understood that Grandma was remembering Grandpa.
But now Grandma was going away. “Why does it have to be the Denver Temple? Can’t you serve right here in the Washington Temple?”
“The Lord has called me to Denver,” Grandma said simply.
Grandma spent the next two weeks saying good-bye to old friends. The Saturday she was due to leave, Kim stayed in her bedroom, refusing to go to the airport with the rest of her family. “I can’t,” she told Mother. “I don’t want to see Grandma leave. I’ll miss her.”
“I’ll miss her, too,” her mother said, “but I’m glad that she’s going to serve a mission. Do you remember how happy Grandma was when she cooked Christmas dinner for us?”
Kim nodded, puzzled. What did Christmas dinner have to do with Grandma serving a mission?
“Grandma was happy then because she was serving others. Do you remember how much she enjoyed baby-sitting your cousin Elizabeth when Aunt Carol had to go to the hospital?”
Again Kim nodded. She was beginning to understand. Grandma was happy when she was serving others. “When Grandpa died, did Grandma stop being happy because she couldn’t take care of him anymore?”
“That’s part of it,” Mother said. “She loved Grandpa very much. When he died, I think she felt empty inside. Grandma is happier now because she has a chance to serve someone else. Someone very special.”
Kim knew who that someone was. “Jesus Christ.”
“That’s right. Can’t you be happy for her too?”
Kim thought about that. Of course she wanted Grandma to be happy. Hadn’t Kim been the one to spend hours with Grandma right after Grandpa died so that she wouldn’t be lonely? But Kim also remembered all the times Grandma had sat in her rocking chair, just rocking back and forth, her eyes sad. “Wait, Mom. I have to change my clothes. I want to go to the airport too.”
People scurried through the airport to catch their planes. Kim kept a tight hold on Grandma’s hand. At the gate where Grandma’s plane waited, Kim squeezed her hand even more tightly. “I’m going to miss you, Grandma,” she said, trying hard not to cry.
Grandma bent down to kiss Kim’s cheek. “I’m going to miss you too.”
“I’ll write every week,” Kim promised.
“Me too,” Grandma said, brushing away a tear.
Kim reached up to hug Grandma. “I’m happy you’re going to serve a mission.”
“Thank you, my little Kimmy.”
Kim’s mother, then her father and little brother hugged Grandma.
Kim watched as her grandmother boarded the plane. That night, Kim started a letter:
“Dear Grandma,
“I’m going to tell all my friends that you’re serving a mission in the Denver Temple. I’m very proud of you. …”

Shyness and nervousness have always made my life difficult. High school and college were trying because I was too afraid to answer questions verbally. Job interviews were equally hard, and it was difficult for me to secure employment.
After I joined the Church, sometimes I did not go to Church meetings for fear of being asked to offer a prayer. I felt bad having a testimony and not sharing it with my brothers and sisters, but I was too nervous to speak up. One Sunday I was asked to offer a spiritual thought the next week. As I walked home after church that Sunday, I thought seriously of never returning.
But that afternoon, I decided to have a nap. Before I dozed off, my six-year-old son, David, walked into the bedroom holding a copy of the Pearl of Great Price. He had opened the book to Moses, chapter 6, and he asked me to read it to him. I reluctantly told him I was tired and quickly closed the book. He pleaded, “Please, Mommy, just read here!” He again opened to Moses, chapter 6, his little fingers pointing to verse 31. I started to read:
“And when Enoch had heard these words, he bowed himself to the earth, before the Lord, and spake before the Lord, saying: Why is it that I have found favor in thy sight, and am but a lad, and all the people hate me; for I am slow of speech; wherefore am I thy servant?
“And the Lord said unto Enoch: Go forth and do as I have commanded thee, and no man shall pierce thee. Open thy mouth, and it shall be filled, and I will give thee utterance, for all flesh is in my hands, and I will do as seemeth me good” (Moses 6:31–32).
Even before David asked me to explain these scriptures, I had a new feeling within me. In the best and simplest way I could, I spoke to him in Kiswahili, our native tongue, and explained that the Lord promised to help Enoch; the Lord said He would make Enoch’s weakness his strength (see Ether 12:27). David smiled at me and told me to continue resting.
I did not go to sleep but spent the time pondering the realization that I am a special child of God. He had a purpose in sending me to earth.
The next Sunday I was nervous, but I gave the spiritual thought. I was later called as a Relief Society teacher, and with the help of the other sisters and my loving Heavenly Father, I was able to teach the lessons. Currently I am the first counselor in the Relief Society presidency of the Parklands Branch, Nairobi Kenya District.
It is amazing how the scriptures can bring light into our lives, both spiritually and temporally. I have continued to find joy and peace through reading the scriptures.

When Todd Budge was a young boy, his parents taught him how to seek the Lord’s will. Throughout his life, he has tried to apply that practice in every decision.
Years later, after he and his wife had settled into a home with five children, he felt spiritual impressions to leave his career in banking and finance. The change would require significant sacrifice for him to become established in a new career.
After much effort and preparation to change careers, Elder Budge met someone uniquely qualified to give him advice. This individual suggested that Elder Budge stay with his banking career, reminding him that he would have many opportunities to counsel and help people. “We need people with integrity in business,” the person told him.
Elder Budge considered that encounter to be a tender mercy from the Lord. “I think He wanted to know where my heart was,” he says. “Once the Lord knew my heart, He did not require the sacrifice, and I trusted that He could use me for His purposes without a career change.”
His career did allow him to be an influence for good in the business world, even to open doors to share the gospel in Japan.

“If you don’t like the missionaries, just tell them,” Maryann Naga begged her husband, Inosi. “They are human beings, too. Don’t keep making appointments you won’t keep.”
It had been nearly a year since Inosi had first met Latter-day Saints missionaries. And for almost that long, Maryann had made excuses to the elders while her husband avoided their appointments. But Maryann’s pleading didn’t change Inosi; he didn’t want to hear the missionaries’ message. He just didn’t know how to send them away tactfully.
Inosi Naga, private secretary to Fiji’s minister of agriculture, had seen the missionaries one day as he walked through the streets of Nausori, Fiji, on his lunch hour. He didn’t want to accept the book they offered him, but they were so persistent that he finally agreed. “This is a golden book,” they said. When the missionaries tried to set up a meeting with him, he told them that his home was far away—he really lived nearby—and that he was too busy to see them at his office. Then he introduced the elders to his brother-in-law, who happened to walk by, and quickly slipped away.
Two weeks later, Inosi was shocked to find those same two elders at his door; his brother-in-law had given them his address. Inosi invited the missionaries to stay for dinner, “but inside I was saying, Go away, go away,” he remembers.
After that, the missionaries returned regularly. On nights when Inosi knew they were coming, he didn’t come home until he was sure they had left.
Looking back, Inosi says his attitude began to change in April 1974, when Maryann gave birth to a baby boy who lived for only a day. Losing his son made Inosi think seriously about God and religion. So when two new missionaries came to the Naga home during the second week of June, Inosi was ready to listen. After one of the elders learned that the family had been meeting with the missionaries for more than a year, he challenged them to be baptized.
Inosi agreed.
Maryann couldn’t believe what she had heard. “I was afraid that this was another one of his ‘appointments,’” she says. “But when I asked him directly, I could see from his face that he was telling the truth.”
Maryann was elated. “I knew this would be the biggest change for our family,” she remembers.
The missionaries taught the Nagas every day that week, and the couple were baptized on 14 June 1974.

I am a missionary, and I didn’t gain my own testimony until I was four months into my mission. I know what you are going through, and it isn’t easy. I wish, however, that I, like you, had had enough courage to ask someone. I would have been better prepared for my mission.
It’s not wrong to feel the way you do. Asking the question shows that you are willing to do what it takes to gain a testimony.
I like to liken a testimony to a seed. Most of us who were raised in the Church begin by relying on the testimonies of our parents, which is really not bad. We figure that since they know what they are talking about, then it must be true. So here the seed is planted.
How do you help a seed to grow? By nourishing it with the proper food. So it is with a testimony. If you want a testimony of the Church, then go to the keystone of our religion, the Book of Mormon. Read it. I don’t mean for you to sit down and in one big swoop read the whole thing. Try this method instead. It worked for me and many of my investigators.
Pick a topic—say faith, for example.
Read each verse in the scriptures that refers to faith. Read the chapter in which that verse is located. This will give you an idea of what was happening at the time.
Once you finish this, go back and just read the verse, but this time apply it to you.
4. Now do what Moroni said to do in Moroni 10:3–5 [Moro. 10:3–5]. Pray about it. I promise you that Heavenly Father will answer you through the Spirit.
I wish I had done this before my mission. All I did was read straight through, and I didn’t gain much from it. Then when I came on my mission I relied on my companions’ testimonies, which didn’t do me any good, so I decided I’d better get my own.
I nourished the seed that was planted inside my heart, and I continue to nourish it by reading, studying, pondering, and praying about it so that I might have a better understanding of what is being said. Just like a seed, if a testimony is not nourished it will die. As you nourish the seed it will swell within you. Let it happen. Then you can honestly say you are bearing your own testimony. I hope this works for you.
Elder John Hodge, 21England London South Mission

It was 1935, and in the middle of the Great Depression. Many men were out of work, so we were lucky that Dad had a job that summer as a miner in the Oro Del Rey Mine. All of us children got to live in a tent in Goshute Canyon. We played in the creek, and we even had a pet horned owl.
But one afternoon, I noticed that my parents looked worried.
“What are we going to do?” Mama asked Dad.
Dad’s shoulders hunched. His face was dusty with dirt from the mine. “I don’t know,” he said. “They’ll pay me eventually. Just not now.”
“Well, we need money,” Mama said. “The children need to eat.”
They were silent. What would we do if Dad didn’t get paid? My sister Carol came over by me. She looked scared, so I squeezed her hand.
Finally, Dad said, “I think we need a family prayer.”
Our whole family knelt in the dirt. Dad said the prayer. He asked Heavenly Father to help us know what we could do.
Afterward, I started walking toward the old wood stove where Mama had put the doughnuts she’d been frying. She made the best doughnuts, all golden brown with flecks of sugar. I was just reaching for one when—
“Stop!” Mama yelled.
I stared at her.
“We can sell them!” she said. “Don’t you think my doughnuts are good enough that people would buy them?”
I nodded. “Of course they are!”
“You kids can take them door to door when you go into town before Primary on Wednesday afternoon,” Mama said.
So that’s what we did. We sold a dozen doughnuts for a dime. We did it week after week.
Then one awful day Mama said, “We’re out of yeast, and I don’t have a penny to buy more.” She sat down and put her head in her hands.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“Shh,” she whispered. “I’m praying.”
I folded my arms and closed my eyes too.
A few minutes later, Dad pulled up in our old car. He’d been down in the valley getting the mail. He handed a fat envelope to Mama. “What do you think is in that?”
Mama opened it and gave a little gasp. With shining eyes she pulled out a sample packet of yeast!
“But, Mama,” I asked, “when the baking company sent out that sample, you hadn’t even prayed yet.”
“True,” Mama said. “But in Isaiah the Lord says, ‘Before they call, I will answer.’”

When Elder LeGrand Richards was getting along in years, he generally gave extemporaneous conference talks. As you know, we have some time restraints. There was concern as to how to notify him when his time was up. A little flashing light was put on the podium, and during one of his talks he said, “There’s a light here that keeps flashing.” The next conference they made the light red, but he just put his hand over it. So I might resort to some of that today. As we age, we get to the point where the teleprompter doesn’t work for us anymore; then the printers seem to be doing a poor job in printing the text; and then the ink doesn’t seem to be as good as it used to be either! But I am honored and grateful to be here with you.

At a Young Women in Excellence event in her ward, Lily was recognized for completing her Individual Worth value project. For this project, Lily participated in Special Olympics. She competed in three track-and-field events and three swimming events. She worked very hard to prepare for her competitions and learn the proper techniques.
When Lily first started learning how to throw a rubber javelin for a track-and-field event, it was a bit tricky. But Lily practiced hard, and when the day of the event came, Lily was not nervous at all because she knew just what to do. When the results came in, Lily earned the gold medal!
Lily’s participation in Special Olympics helped her learn that she can do hard things, that she can develop her talents, and that she has great worth.

I was about nine years old when two foreign missionaries first visited my family in the Philippines. I was impressed with their grooming and friendliness, but I couldn’t understand a word they said. They taught in English, and only Mama and Papa understood them, because both were schoolteachers.
I still recall the day Mama threw down the Book of Mormon and refused to read any more. She had heard some lies about the Church and was upset that Papa was allowing the missionaries to teach us.
Papa just picked up the book and calmly said, “Open your heart and listen to the teachings. This book is true. Read this, and you’ll know it is true.”
I don’t know exactly what happened, but six months later I was surprised when Mama announced we were going to be baptized. I knew little of the Church, and I didn’t want another baptism. But I couldn’t resist my parents’ will, so I was baptized.
Joseph Smith, however, remained a big concern. I couldn’t believe he was a prophet of God, and every time someone taught about him I wanted to shout, “That’s not true!” But I couldn’t utter it. When I was asked to share my testimony, I repeated words I had heard others speak.
Though I did not believe Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, I did believe some of the Church’s teachings and enjoyed attending church—except for the first Sunday of the month. Over and over I would hear the members bearing testimony that Joseph Smith was a prophet. It irritated me. I eventually became so angry that I didn’t want to attend church. I made up excuses not to attend, but Papa wouldn’t allow any of his children to be left at home on Sundays.
I was about 14 years old when Papa enrolled me in seminary. That really bothered me. I wasn’t interested, and I felt forced to attend. The first meeting, I purposely arrived late. But to my surprise, no one was at the chapel except Brother Cedillo, the custodian. He turned out to be my seminary teacher.
When the other students arrived, Brother Cedillo asked if any of us had read the Book of Mormon. Nobody answered. He opened the book and asked us to read with him, beginning at 1 Nephi 1:1. I do not remember what else my teacher said that day, but I do remember the powerful testimony he bore of the Book of Mormon. I was touched in my heart, and as I walked home I felt happy. I couldn’t understand why.
That night I resolved to read the Book of Mormon. I started reading after dinner, with a prayer that I could understand. I kept reading till midnight. As I read, I imagined the characters in the Book of Mormon acting out the scenes as if I were watching television. I didn’t understand some of the words, but as I read of the sufferings the prophets in the Book of Mormon endured for testifying of the truth, tears rolled down my cheeks. I had been angry at members of the Church for doing the same thing the prophets had done! I pictured myself as one of those who had persecuted the prophets—and realized how ungrateful I had been.
I continued reading the next day and into the night. I couldn’t sleep until I finished reading the Book of Mormon. When I finally closed the book, I knelt and asked God for forgiveness. In my prayer, I testified that I knew the Book of Mormon was true. And I knew that if the Book of Mormon was true, then Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, because he translated the book. As I said “amen,” my face was wet with tears. I felt at peace and filled with joy.
The experience helped me later when I served a full-time mission in the Philippines Cebu Mission. It helped me understand better my investigators’ concerns about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. Today my heart still fills with gratitude for the great blessings God has given me and my family.