Gospel Story Finder

In July 2021, I had the blessing of working as an extra in the new Book of Mormon videos, filmed in the mountains east of Springville, Utah, USA. We were filming scenes that occurred following the “great and terrible destruction” (see 3 Nephi 8:11–12) in the New World, which attested to the Savior’s Crucifixion in the Old World.
During filming, my brother Byron lay in a hospital bed in California, USA, while my newborn granddaughter lay in a hospital bed in Salt Lake City, Utah. Byron was dying of cancer, and my granddaughter, born with a serious birth defect, was not expected to live.
When my husband and I arrived at our motel after the second day of filming, my sister called me, worried about Byron.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” she said. “Byron isn’t answering his phone or his messages.”
Of my five siblings, I was closest to Byron. He was the second child, and I was the youngest. He often took care of me when I was small. We grew up in humble surroundings in Guatemala. We had no television, but we had each other. We were poor, but we were happy.
I missed Byron when he moved to the United States, hoping to help our family financially. He found a job as a bus driver for a tourism company. Years later, I moved to the United States, married, and joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. After my baptism, my parents also joined the Church. When my husband and I settled in southern Utah, I saw Byron whenever he brought tourists to the visitors’ centers at the St. George Utah Temple and the Salt Lake Temple.
When I spoke to Byron about the Church, he told me, “Latter-day Saints have something very special. When I talk with people at the visitors’ centers, I can see that they are good, friendly people.” He agreed to meet with the full-time missionaries, but he was always working and almost never home.
Twice, Byron successfully underwent treatment for esophageal cancer. In 2020, however, the cancer returned. In June 2021, he was barely well enough to travel to Guatemala for a month-long family reunion. Our father had died earlier that year, and our mother had passed away in 2015, four years after they were sealed in the Guatemala City Guatemala Temple. Seeing his siblings one last time was Byron’s final prayerful wish.
Two weeks after he returned to California, he was hospitalized. Now he lay in a coma.
When I arrived at the video site the day after my sister’s phone call, I was weary and sad. “Father, please help me,” I prayed. “So many difficult things are happening in my life.”
Before the actors and extras gathered to film the scene where the resurrected Savior descends from heaven (see 3 Nephi 11:8), we were told to think about Him and what He means to us. As I tried to concentrate on the Savior during the scene, my thoughts turned to my family. In my mind I saw my father, my mother, and Byron. At that very moment, I heard Byron’s voice.
“Everything is OK,” he said. “I am all right.”
I felt such hope and comfort, as if I really were in the land Bountiful when Jesus came to teach and heal the people, showing them His body. I knew that He was the answer to my trials, that He and the Father were there for me, and that things happen for a reason.
That night, I learned that God had taken Byron home. I’m grateful for the faith I have that I will see him and my parents again. I’m also grateful that God heard our prayers for Athena. After she spent 88 days recuperating in the neonatal intensive care unit, we finally brought her home.

Ivor, my third son, was still living in the village. He was destined not to be with me long. He had been born two months early and was so tiny that his mother carried him on a pillow. He grew to manhood but suffered from a heart disease. He was the poet in the family, and even though his health was poor he was always happy. I can hear him yet as he sang to the trees in the woods that bordered our home. I remember that day only a few days before his heart failed him that we walked together up into the meadow and we looked across the valley. He took my hand in his and spoke softly. “Listen Tad” (that’s Welsh for Father), and across the valley came the plaintive call of the cuckoo. “Isn’t it lovely? The cuckoo tells of the coming spring, and soon the meadow will be white with daisies, and the thrush will sing a joyful tune. Aye, my Tad, it’s a grand world that God has given us.”
He died in his sleep and was buried beside his mother in the little cemetery on the hill.
The funeral was quite an event in our village. It was the first LDS funeral ever conducted there. Many people came out of curiosity, but most came because Ivor was loved and respected. Jones, the undertaker, in his black suit and top hat drove the hearse with a pair of black horses.
It was less than a mile to the cemetery, and the mourners walked behind the hearse. Soon the villagers started to sing. At first their voices were quiet like the summer breeze on Rhysog Mountain. Then as the words came, “Feed me till I want no more,” their voices raised in a great crescendo like waves breaking on a rocky shore. Oh, my people from whom I came, your songs of mourning are still in my heart, and I know that my son and my Bess heard.

“When I was 18, as I was preparing to serve a mission, my bishop called me to teach the Sunbeams. I had never before learned to love others more than myself until I had served those children in such a simple assignment. …

“One day I invited Mike to come to church and sit in my class. Mike was my age but had stopped attending church completely by the time he was 12. … Once in a while Mike would accept my invitations to come to an activity. It always surprised me when he did, so I kept inviting him.

“At that time, Mike had long, black hair and a beard. His complexion was dark and pleasant. I don’t remember when I invited him to my Primary class, but one day he showed up.

“Class, I would like to introduce you to my friend Mike,” is how I began my lesson. “He is visiting us today.”
Read the rest of “The Visitor,” by Ken Merrell, in the May 2000 New Era.

It took my friend and me almost four hours to hike up the steep path to the waterfall. When we finally arrived, covered in sweat and dirt, we basked in the euphoric reward of the powerful spray and the roar of the cascading falls.
And then I had this automatic thought come to mind: “You should take a picture of this and post it on Instagram.”
Seriously? I was out in nature, enjoying time with a friend, and one of my first thoughts was to share this moment on social media?
I spend a lot of time capturing life moments. Most of the time, photos just end up saved in my camera roll and thoughts end up jotted down in my journal, but they are fun to share on social media sometimes too. I wish I was better at just living in the moment, but I still love documenting the happiest moments in my life. When I’m having a hard time, it’s comforting to look back through my favorite memories.
But for someone who documents a lot of my life, I tend to forget to capture the greatest things I can record: my spiritual experiences.
There was a period of my life when I was really struggling and decided to start a habit of writing down three things I was genuinely grateful for every day. Some days were harder than others, so I had to take notice of even the smallest gifts or figure out a way to add to my own sunshine, like taking the time to enjoy a few chapters of a book.
But a thought occurred to me one day.
What if I recorded my spiritual experiences like I recorded life on social media? What if I documented moments when I recognized God’s hand in my life?
The Book of Mormon uses the word “remember”—including variations like “remembrance” and “remembering”—approximately 220 times.1 Helaman tells his sons Nephi and Lehi, “O remember, remember, my sons, the words which king Benjamin spake unto his people” (Helaman 5:9). He’s not just saying to recall Benjamin’s teachings; he’s saying to act on them.
When the resurrected Jesus Christ visits the Americas, he tells the Nephites, “If ye do always remember me ye shall have my Spirit to be with you” (3 Nephi 18:7). Christ isn’t just telling them to keep His image in their minds; He’s telling them to pattern their lives after His.
We can learn from that. We can act on what we believe, not just recall something we’ve forgotten. As 3 Nephi 29:3 says, “The Lord will remember his covenant which he hath made unto his people,” meaning that the Lord will take action to fulfill the covenants He made.
Remembering changes our behavior. It involves documenting what we experience.
And regarding spiritual matters, it means acting on—and sharing—what we believe.
But because there’s always contrast in the scriptures, we also get to learn from the people who don’t remember what God has done for them. For example, no matter how many miracles they’ve seen, Laman and Lemuel always forget how good God has been to them. After Nephi miraculously builds a boat by inspiration from God, his brothers still rebel and tie him up. Nephi writes, “They did forget by what power they had been brought thither” (1 Nephi 18:9).
This is why capturing our spiritually defining moments is so important.
I spend so much time capturing my life and being afraid I’ll forget some life experience that is important to me. But what would be way worse than losing the memory of a waterfall hike or a good time with a friend would be losing the memory of how much God loves me and has blessed me throughout my life.
So along with filling out my gratitude journal to capture my spiritual moments, I started keeping a list of times I felt the Spirit. Some of these experiences include:
Reading a profound Liahona article2
Having a spiritual conversation with my aunt
Enjoying a beautiful midnight rainstorm
Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught: “Embrace your sacred memories. Believe them. Write them down. Share them with your family. Trust that they come to you from your Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son. Let them bring patience to your doubts and understanding to your difficulties. I promise you that as you willingly acknowledge and carefully treasure the spiritually defining events in your life, more and more will come to you. Heavenly Father knows you and loves you!”3
If you’re struggling to feel or to remember your spiritual experiences and want to see God’s hand in your life more clearly, consider creating a list of moments you feel the Spirit each day. Doing so will help you understand how He speaks to you. And when it’s appropriate, don’t forget to share your experiences with friends and family so they can also “have glad tidings of great joy” (Alma 13:22).
There have been plenty of times in my life when I’ve been just like Nephi’s brothers: bitter, confused, and angry when life doesn’t go the way I plan. But unlike his brothers, my heart softens when I remember the spiritual experiences I’ve had and choose to seek out more of them. Through capturing those special moments with my Heavenly Father, I remember the times I’ve felt His love for me through the actions of other people, I am reminded of the ways the Spirit has brought me quiet reassurance, and I reflect on the experiences I’ve had in the temple and in nature.
When I remember those experiences, I have the strength and faith to keep going forward on the covenant path. And when I share those experiences, (just as often as I share moments on social media), I add to others’ faith as well.

“Time to go, Jacob!” Mom called.
Four-year-old Jacob hopped off his bed and ran downstairs. “What are we going to buy? Can we get treats? Can I help you?”
It was Jacob’s turn to go shopping with Mom, and he was full of questions.
“We are going to buy groceries, and if you are a really big helper, we just might have time to make cookies for family home evening when we get home.”
Jacob smiled as Mom helped him into his seat in the car and buckled the seat belt. This was going to be great!
Mom pushed the grocery cart up and down the aisles while Jacob held the shopping list. He helped organize the groceries and got to choose if they got red apples or yellow apples, and red potatoes or white potatoes.
When they were finished getting the items on the list, Jacob helped push the heavy cart up to the checkout line. He watched as Mom put the groceries on the conveyor belt.
Suddenly, Jacob noticed that the shelves he was standing by were full of candy and gum. Mom didn’t buy those things very often. Jacob saw a package of Blueberry Blast bubble gum and knew it tasted really good. He put the package in his pocket.
As they were driving home, Mom said, “You’re very quiet, Jacob. Are you tired?”
“No.”
“OK. Will you help me unload the groceries when we get home?”
“Sure.”
When they got home, they carried the bags of groceries inside and put them on the kitchen counter. Mom looked at Jacob carefully. “Where did you get that big piece of gum?” she asked.
Jacob shrugged his shoulders and looked at the floor. Mom knelt down and asked him again.
“Where did you get that gum, Jacob?”
Jacob took the package of gum out of his pocket.
“Did you take that gum from the store?”
Jacob felt like crying. He nodded his head slowly. Mom looked sad.
“Jacob, when we do something that is wrong—like taking gum from the store without paying for it—it’s like digging a deep hole and standing in the bottom of it. We need to do important things to get out of the hole.”
“What do we do first?” Jacob asked.
“We need to know that we have done something wrong and feel sorry about it. I think you already know that taking the gum is wrong. Are you sorry?”
“Yes. I know it was wrong. I feel sad now,” Jacob said.
“Then we need to fix the problem the best we can. Since you already opened the package of gum and ate some of it, we can’t give it back to the store. What do you think we should do?”
“I have some money. I could go back to the store and pay for the gum.”
“That’s a great idea. I’ll take you.”
Jacob ran upstairs and got his money jar. Mom helped him count out enough to pay for the gum.
When they got to the store, Mom held Jacob’s hand and took him to the manager’s desk. She told the manager that Jacob had something to tell her.
Jacob felt nervous. He pulled the package of gum out of his pocket and put it on the counter.
“Did you take that gum without paying for it?” the manager asked.
Jacob nodded.
“Would you like to pay for it now?”
“Yes.”
Jacob put his money on the counter. The manager printed a receipt. She put the gum in a bag, gave the receipt to Jacob, and smiled at him. “Thank you for being honest and coming back to pay for the gum,” she said.
Jacob felt much better as he and Mom walked back to the car.
“You are doing a good job climbing out of the hole, Jacob,” Mom said. “But there’s something else you need to do.”
“What?”
“You need to tell Heavenly Father that you are sorry, and promise Him that you will try to keep the commandments from now on.”
When Mom and Jacob got home, they went into a quiet room and knelt down together. Mom helped Jacob say a prayer. He told Heavenly Father that he was sorry and wouldn’t take anything from the store without paying for it ever again.
When the prayer was finished, Jacob was surprised that he didn’t feel bad anymore. Not bad at all! In fact, he felt clean and happy again—just like he had climbed out of a hole, and had a bath too!

Laxhmi Tulaseeswari Mada speaks with reverence of the missionaries who brought her into the Church. From them, “Tulasee” learned that she was a child of God. “Before, I didn’t feel like I was worth much,” she says. “But now I have the gospel. I know I am a daughter of God.”
Prior to her conversion, Tulasee lived her life as do many Indian women—under the waning vestiges of purdah, a tradition rooted in modesty that, for centuries, has veiled and secluded women. Brought up by her stepparents, mistreated as a child and adolescent, Tulasee had little sense of self-worth and little hope for the future. “Many times I was crying inside and outside,” she says of her life before finding the gospel.
Learning that she was valuable in God’s eyes offered spiritual balm to Tulasee’s troubled life, but she was reluctant to tell her parents of her baptism. Her father, a prominent Hindu religious teacher known as a guru, noticed a change in her and wanted to know why she seemed happy. When he found out that she had rejected his beliefs, he felt dishonored and disowned her.
Tulasee says the knowledge that she has eternal potential and that she can be exalted prompted her to accept a call as a district missionary in Rajahmundry. “The knowledge I have gained is what my people need,” says Tulasee, named after a Hindu goddess. She retains her given name because “I want people to know that I am a convert. I love missionary work, but it is hard for me to be a missionary in Rajahmundry, because people know who I am.”
It is also hard because Tulasee is a woman. The sight of women missionaries sharing the gospel is not only unusual but unnerving to some Indian men. Male investigators are often surprised to learn that they cannot be exalted without their wives. In the Church, the doctrine of eternal marriage generates increased respect for women and has helped marriages, most of which are still arranged.
Today, Tulasee’s face and bright clothing radiate her newfound optimism and sense of worth. Her baptism and the gift of the Holy Ghost that followed gave her “a most precious feeling I had never felt before. Everybody needs that feeling,” she says. “Through the Holy Ghost, God gave me great answers. I love serving, and I need to share my testimony.”

I was praying to my Heavenly Father, and I know many other people were praying for me also. Through all of my trials, I prayed that I would be healed, that my joints would recover, and that I wouldn’t have to go through the rest of chemotherapy. I felt that my prayers weren’t being answered because I still had to go to Primary Children’s Medical Center in Salt Lake City every week for more chemotherapy. I still hurt. And I was still stuck in a wheelchair. At one point, I started to think that my parents were crazy for believing in a God who wouldn’t even listen to a poor little sick girl.
Years before, I had gone through a similar trial of my faith when I prayed for my mom to get better. She was on oxygen all the time and was too weak to even walk around the house. I prayed and hoped and prayed some more that she would miraculously be healed. However, she wasn’t. After she died, I learned that we can pray for what we want all that we want to, but we need to pray for the right things—praying that the Lord’s will be done—to have our prayers answered.
Remembering this lesson, I changed my prayers from “Please heal me” to “Heavenly Father, I would really like to be done with these trials, but I will accept Thy will.” As soon as I changed my prayers, I found that I was able to handle the chemotherapy more easily, and I had a better attitude. That was just the beginning of the blessings and the answers to my prayers and questions.
My dad and grandfather gave me many priesthood blessings. Whenever I had to go in for surgery, I would ask for a blessing. The blessings helped me and my family feel calm about the procedure. One time I had a high fever, and we had to go to the hospital. I received a blessing from my dad and a neighbor before we left. By the time we pulled up at the emergency room door, my fever was gone, and I didn’t have to stay the night in the hospital. I know that priesthood power is a gift from a loving Heavenly Father.
One moment that will always stand out in my mind was the day I came home from the hospital after I was diagnosed with leukemia. The young women and Relief Society sisters had moved my stuff from the basement into a room on the main floor so I would be closer to my parents and wouldn’t have to use the stairs. They had cleaned and decorated the room to make a great place for me to live while I was sick. My family was the recipient of many other service projects. In the beginning, it was hard for me to accept service. When people would do service for me, it would make me feel like I couldn’t do anything for myself. However, I soon learned that it was OK to ask for help. When I started feeling better, I began looking for opportunities to serve other people more. Now I try to serve as much as I can. I get a good feeling when I serve other people. I have come to realize that by letting other people serve me, I allow them the same good feelings.
I have learned to think more about the future and my choices because I was so close to death. At school, I heard girls complaining about how they were having a “bad hair day.” As I was sitting there in my hot pink wheelchair with a wig on my head, I would think, “Well at least you have hair!” Girls would also complain about their feet hurting from walking around in high heels. I would think to myself, “At least you can walk.” Now I try to focus more on the big picture instead of the small things I used to worry about.
Over the past few years I have learned many other things through the blessings of having leukemia and the complications from chemotherapy. I have become closer to my Heavenly Father. My testimony has grown. And I have learned what is truly important. I have learned to appreciate all of the small things that people do for me. I am now in remission, in less pain, and gradually getting back some of the use of my joints. As I continue to heal, the blessings and learning experiences keep coming.
So why me? Why now? I don’t ask those questions anymore because I grew spiritually during my trials. I have discovered who I really am because the Lord loved me enough to let me experience adversity and the blessings that can come with it.

As a young woman, I filled up pages in my journal about what I wanted my future husband to be like.
Pages. Multiple pages.
But when I got old enough to date seriously, I realized that dating can be an obstacle course. I caved and tried a dating app.
I soon discovered a common trap:
You swipe up on someone because you think they’re attractive, but you don’t know anything except that they’re possibly above average in height, looks, and salary (depending, of course, on how honest they are in their profile).
In a world where dating is often initiated through dating apps, many spend so much time window-shopping for potential partners that they tend to judge by outward characteristics only, forgetting to focus on what’s on the inside.
And if the prerequisite for marriage is a model-worthy face and body, what kind of marriage will that be?
Elder John A. Widtsoe (1872–1952) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles once said: “‘Falling in love’ is always from within, rather than from without. That is, physical attractiveness must be reinforced with mental and spiritual harmony if true love is to be born and have long life.”
It’s not bad to desire physical attraction in a future spouse. But if outward appearances are your only compass for finding an eternal companion, you will come up short; physical attractiveness is not a marker of compatibility or spirituality.
As Elder Widtsoe said, love comes from the inside, not the outside. I believe that when you find the person who portrays righteous inner qualities and traits compatible with yours, their spiritual attraction fosters and enhances all other kinds of attraction—even physical.
The scriptures teach, “The Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7).
Don’t fall into the trap of only caring what’s on the outside. Keeping covenants requires commitment, honesty, integrity, and humility. Search for a companion who embodies righteous spiritual attributes, and cultivate those attributes within yourself.
Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught, “In God’s plan of happiness, we are not so much looking for someone perfect but for a person with whom, throughout a lifetime, we can join efforts to create a loving, lasting, and more perfect relationship.”
In your journey to find a spouse, do you stop to look at your own progress to perfection or only seek and expect perfection in your partner?
When my sister was single and struggling with dating, she realized she might be making this mistake. So she drew a simple picture of her desired partner:
A stick figure with three—only three—of the most important attributes she wanted in a husband. No height requirements, no six-figure salary quota.
Within several months she started dating her future spouse. He was dedicated to the gospel, hardworking, and honest. Together they are working to create an eternal marriage.
Elder Gerrit W. Gong of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles shared: “Marriage is not a match of two individuals who feel they are perfect for each other, although you may feel that at some time. Marriage is when two individuals love the Lord and each other by covenant … and nurture a celestial relationship.”
Let these truths guide you through the important decisions you will face as you date and search for an eternal companion. Whether your search is on a dating app, among friends, at a YSA conference, or elsewhere, remember the eternal, spiritual attributes that will bring you the most happiness.
It will take more than a second glance to learn what really matters. You will not find perfection, but when the right companion comes along, together with the Savior, you can be perfect for each other.

I am grateful for my father’s good example, and we should always remember that our own example will have its effect on the lives (and vocabularies) of others. I once visited a friend who had two boys about four and five years old. They were playing at repairing machinery, and one of them was astraddle a grain auger. He had some wrenches and was playing like he was turning the bolts, and as he turned he was swearing a blue streak. He was hammering with the wrench and calling the bolts all kinds of profane names, and his little brother was doing the same. Where had they learned that? From watching their father and older brother repair the machinery, of course!

“About a year ago I was on assignment in Beirut, Lebanon. While there, I learned about a 12-year-old girl, Sarah. Her parents and two older siblings had converted to the Church in Romania but were then required to return to their homeland when Sarah was just 7 years of age. In their homeland there was no Church presence, no organized units, no Sunday School or Young Women program. After five years this family learned of a branch in Beirut and, just before I arrived, sent their 12-year-old daughter, Sarah, accompanied by older siblings, to be baptized. While there, I gave a devotional on the plan of salvation. With some frequency Sarah raised her hand and answered the questions.
“After the meeting, and knowing of her almost nonexistent Church exposure, I approached her and asked, ‘Sarah, how did you know the answers to those questions?’ She immediately replied, ‘My mother taught me.’ They did not have the Church in their community, but they did have the gospel in their home.”

The bright coloring of the surrounding mountains was inspiring. The yellow, brown, and gray of the stone in the nearby hills and the blue of the distant mountains was a scene that only nature could paint. An artist who tried would be accused of exaggeration.
I stood on the edge of a great precipice. The ground beneath my feet was white sandstone. It was strange how drab the ground at my feet appeared but how beautiful that same stone was when viewed from a distance. “Isn’t that the way life is?” I thought to myself.
I looked down. Far below, the Colorado River, like a puny gray ribbon, wound itself through the deep canyon gorge. It made me dizzy, and I backed off for fear of losing my balance. I looked up and saw the other side of the canyon 183 meters beyond. As I contemplated how remote we were from civilization, fear came into my heart. “What have we promised to do?” I asked myself.
We had signed a contract to fabricate and erect the steel for a bridge to span the Colorado River gorge. We were relying upon our engineer’s computations and designs to do something we had never done before. The last thing I would ever do under these circumstances would be to express aloud any doubt. I had to be positive. If the leader of the organization lacks courage or judgment when exploring new horizons, the operation will crumble. It was a critical point, a precipice for those of us who had worked so long and hard to build a professional reputation. We could not turn back now. I displaced my fears by thinking, “If men never ventured beyond their experience, the world would make no progress.”
How do you go about bridging such a chasm? First, we spanned the river with a cord. The cord was used to pull a light rope across, then a heavier rope, a light cable, and a heavier cable, until we had a 76 millimeter steel cable spanning the gorge supported by high towers on each side. Together with other essential parts we had a high line system that would carry fabricated steel segments into their respective positions; some pieces weighed as much as 30 tons.
The segments of the arch were supported by towers and held 600 tons of steel high above the river until the arch could be closed. After the arch was closed, its weight was transferred down to the huge concrete foundations supported by the bedrock of the canyon walls, enabling the towers to be relieved and dismantled.
Every step taken had to be right. Every piece of steel had to fit with exactness. Every move was carefully planned. A complicated scheduling process was used to coordinate engineering, purchasing, steel preparation, steel fabrication, storing, transporting, unloading, and erecting so that the right piece of steel arrived at the site at the exact time it was needed. It’s that way in life, isn’t it? We must plan things to a standard of excellence if we want to succeed. The greater the challenge, the higher the standard must be, whether we are building bridges or building lives.
Today, people never notice the precipice on which I stood on that particular day. As the motorist travels over what before was an impassable route, he now crosses from one side of the canyon to the other in approximately eight seconds, I seldom look back upon that precipice in my business life without realizing that man, with the help of the Lord, can pretty well do whatever he determines to do. What is a challenge for one might be quite commonplace for another, but what is now commonplace was once a great challenge.

Elder ElRay L. Christiansen tells an interesting story about his neighbor who bought a boat. He really couldn’t afford a boat; but he bought it anyway, because he had a credit card. In order to pay for the boat, he had to take a second job, which meant he had to work on Saturday. This, of course, left one day per week on which he could use the boat. When do you suppose that was? Yes, you are right—it was Sunday. But he loved his boat and invited Brother Christiansen over to admire it, saying, “Isn’t it beautiful? What shall we name it?” (Now, you see, it is a member of the family—it has to have a name.)
Brother Christiansen said, “Why don’t you call it The Sabbath Breaker?” (Conference Report, April 1962, p. 33.) Now, please don’t misunderstand me—I have nothing against boats. I have a friend who has a boat, and he calls his boat “Never on Sunday,” which, of course, is a better name for a boat.

Shortly after I joined the Church, a Relief Society leader was joking about funny situations. Suddenly she started joking about me in front of everybody. I felt uncomfortable and let myself be offended.
My first thought was not to return to the ward. I opened my scriptures, trying to find comfort. As I read, I came across a verse where Jesus asked those offended by His teachings, “Will ye also go away?” (John 6:67).
Immediately, I answered in mind, “No, I will not go away!”
I called the Relief Society president, who recommended that I call the sister who had joked about me. I called her and expressed my feelings. We concluded that a sense of humor is great but that we shouldn’t joke about someone we don’t know in front of a group of people. We also talked about being sensitive to new ward members.
I continued attending that ward while I lived in that city. I had many wonderful experiences following my conversion to the gospel.

Many miracles paved the way for Raymond Knight’s journey to the house of the Lord.
The first was his baptism in Alice Springs on 1 July 2017, at age 74. Elder Joel Barfuss, of the Australia Adelaide Mission recalls, “We were walking to an appointment and saw Ray walking down another road, so we decided to turn down the road just to talk to him. . . . He came to Church that Sunday and the rest was history.”
The second miracle came through family history. In the years after his baptism, senior missionary couples, Elder and Sister Clark, and later, Elder and Sister Gamble helped Ray to discover his family history.
Elder Scott Gamble helped Ray identify his father through the BillionGraves cemetery index.
“Ray is legendary with the young missionaries in Alice Springs,” says Sister Diane Gamble. “They all know and love him. He loves to share life stories about how his grandmother taught him to knit when he was nine years old, how his daughter in the Philippines asked him to bring her a kangaroo, and about how he knitted a jumper for Johnny Cash, the famous western singer.”
The third miracle involved a series of events that allowed Ray to travel 1,532.8 kilometers to attend the temple for the first time.
Cancer required the removal of Ray’s stomach, but while recovering from massive surgery, the Gambles taught him temple preparation lessons, which he continued after leaving the hospital.
Branch President Schwalger granted permission for the missionaries to resume Ray’s lessons over the phone and at his home. The Gambles used skeins of yarn and other props to review principles like the plan of salvation.
Ray eventually received his temple recommend, and with aid from the General Temple Patron Assistance Fund he prepared to receive his endowment.
Two weeks before his scheduled temple date, the Gambles received a call from Ray. Sister Gamble recalls, “He was in the hospital and told us he just wanted to die. We found him in the emergency department having a vial of potassium administered intravenously, which is apparently quite painful. Elder Gamble gave him a blessing, which helped him tolerate the procedure.”
Once Ray was cleared for travel, the long-awaited moment finally arrived. Ray and the missionary couple set out on 30 January 2024, and the group walked into the temple the following day.
At 81 years old now, Ray was able to participate in proxy baptisms and confirmations for his male ancestors. Then he used his Melchizedek Priesthood authority, for the first time, to perform proxy confirmations on Sister Gamble for his female ancestors. “I was moved to tears when Ray placed his hands on my head,” says Sister Gamble.
The fourth miracle was found in the power of prayer.
Ray wasn’t feeling well on the day Elder Gamble picked him up for his own endowment. His medication was making him dizzy and weak in the knees. They had to stop and rest several times between the hotel room and the car.
After a fervent prayer for Ray’s health and ability to proceed with his journey, Ray got out of the car and walked into the temple to receive his endowment. He had no further issues that day.
With additional support from senior missionary couples, the Felts and the Carrs, and President and Sister Kuhn from the mission presidency, Ray was able to perform proxy endowments for his ancestors. Elder Gamble described evidence of the Spirit in the celestial room later, where he saw tears rolling down Ray’s cheeks. “This is the first time I’ve felt a closeness to the Lord in such a profound way,” Ray explained. “I am in wonderment of His rich blessings.”
His ability to participate in all the planned sessions of his temple trip depended on how Ray felt, but on the days he didn’t attend, Sister Gamble says, everyone at the temple asked where Ray was. “It was like they were inquiring about a long-lost friend.”
Some days, Ray relied on the power of prayer to keep going. “On Saturday morning, [he] was feeling sick again,” Sister Gamble reports. “We said a prayer with Ray in the car and again he perked up almost immediately and was able to move forward with sealings.”
Referencing President Russell M. Nelson’s invitation to think celestial, the sealer said, “doing sealings is just about as close to thinking celestial as one can get in this life.”
Ray was sealed first to his parents, and then his mother was sealed to the grandparents who raised him. In total, 96 family ordinances were performed throughout the week. The group had many tender mercies and felt very close to the Spirit.
“I can’t even begin to tell you how idyllic it was for me to be introduced to the temple for the first time,” Ray said. “It was a joy unimaginable. I’m so looking forward to many more such visits… If only the same joy could be felt in absolutely every other location throughout the world and every single person could focus on the exquisite experience and peace of our Heavenly Father’s presence, there could not be any room for the hurt and devastating destruction that we learn about so constantly in our world.”

In another ward the bishop asked a semi-active priest to tutor a deacon having problems in school. After balking at the request, the priest found the young boy began to follow his example of attending Church. They decided to go to MIA together. When the deacon asked if he should go on a mission, the priest said yes, and his new friend replied, “When are you going?”
“Well, what could I say? I couldn’t let him down. So here I am an elder and on my way to serve the Lord for two years in Norway. I know this is what I must do and want to do with my life right now. School can wait.”

“Mary, what do you see?” Mary’s stepmother spoke softly from her sickbed.
“The fighting seems to be getting closer,” said Mary, looking out the window. The American Civil War was being fought just a few miles away. The sound of gunshots had filled the air since morning. Mary turned to her stepmother. “I’m so sorry. I don’t think we can leave the house to get the doctor.”
“Come closer.” Mary sat next to the bed and took her stepmother’s hand. “I know your father is still not well,” Mary’s stepmother said quietly, “but you need to take the family to Zion—your brother, your sister, and the twins. Don’t give your father any peace until he goes to the Rocky Mountains! Promise me!”
Mary knew how much her family wanted to go to Salt Lake City. After they heard the gospel and were baptized, they had left England to join the Saints in Zion. But would it even be possible? She glanced at her father, who sat silently in his chair. Three years ago, Father had suffered a terrible stroke that had paralyzed his left side.
Mary took a deep breath. “I promise,” she whispered.
Soon Mary’s stepmother closed her eyes for the last time.
One morning soon after, Mary decided it was time to tell her father about her promise. “I know I’m just 14,” she said, “but I must take our family to Zion.” She heard the twins waking. “I need to go get breakfast started,” she said. “But just think about it, please.”
A few days later, Father called Mary’s name. “It’s all arranged,” he said. His speech was still slurred from the stroke. “I’ve sold our land and the coal mine so we can buy a wagon, some oxen, cows, and a few supplies. A wagon company is leaving soon for the West. They’re not Latter-day Saints, but we can travel with them as far as Iowa. When we get there, we can join a party of Saints going to the Salt Lake Valley.”
Mary threw her arms around him. “Thank you, Father.” Soon they would go to Zion!
The days passed quickly as Mary helped get the family ready for their travels. “Everything is going to be all right,” she told herself. “Soon we’ll be in Zion.”
But then Father fell ill. From the way his mouth drooped on one side, Mary feared it was another stroke.
“He’s too sick to travel,” she told the leader of the wagon company. “We just need a few days for him to recover.”
“We can’t wait,” the man said briskly. Seeing Mary’s face, he softened his tone. “You can stay here until he’s ready to travel, and then you can catch up with us.” With no other choice, Mary agreed.
A week later, Mary got her family ready to travel again. “The twins and Sarah can ride on the oxen,” she told Jackson, her nine-year-old brother. “Father can ride in the wagon, and you can help me drive the oxen.”
“I’m scared,” Sarah said in a small voice. She was only six, and she looked tiny on the ox’s broad back. The four-year-old twins looked at Mary with wide eyes.
“We’ll just make good time and catch up with our group!” Mary said with forced cheerfulness.
On and on the Wanlass family traveled, for miles and then for days. Finally, even Mary had to admit the truth.
The wagon party had not waited for them. Mary and her family would have to travel to Zion alone.
“Whoa, there!” Mary pulled back on the reins, and the oxen slowed. “Everyone all right?” She looked at her three youngest siblings, who rode on the oxen’s backs. They nodded.
The Platte River lay before them, wide and muddy. “What now?” her younger brother, Jackson, asked. He was only nine, but he was helping Mary drive the oxen. Father lay in the back of the wagon, still sick from his stroke.
“We don’t need to cross the river,” said Mary. “But we can follow it.” There was no road to Zion, but the river should guide them as they headed west. “Giddyap!”
Mary didn’t know that Mormon pioneers traveled on the other side of the Platte River and went a different way. By not crossing the river, they were entering Indian Territory. They would not see another wagon train for the rest of the journey.
They traveled on. Weeks later, Mary saw a cloud of dust approaching. “Steady,” she whispered to the oxen and herself. “Steady.”
The dust cleared to show a small group of Indians riding on horses. One of the riders moved toward the back of the wagon, where Father was lying.
The rider’s eyes were kind. “He is sick?” he asked, pointing to Father.
“Yes,” Mary whispered. The man called out something in his own language, and the men rode off as quickly as they had come.
Mary looked at the sun in the sky. “We’ll stop here,” she told Jackson. She lifted Sarah and the twins down.
“Mary, come look!” Jackson said. The man with the kind eyes was riding toward them, something heavy in his hands.
“Wild duck,” he said. “And rabbit. For you.” Mary could only stare, speechless, as he dropped the game into her arms. With another nod, he rode off into the twilight.
“Food!” Mary exclaimed. “Meat!” The man’s gift was truly a miracle.
More miracles happened on their journey. A buffalo herd came near them but then parted around the wagon, going on either side of it. A dust storm carried one of the twins into a river, but Mary was able to save her.
But the journey was still difficult. Every day the wagon looked more worn, and the oxen looked more tired. The ground was steep and rocky. The mountains were hard to cross. But Mary and her family kept plodding forward.
They were just coming down from a tall summit when Mary saw a man driving toward them in a wagon.
“Maybe he can tell us the way to Lehi, Utah!” she said to Jackson. They had an uncle who lived there.
“You’re in Echo Canyon, not far from the Salt Lake Valley,” the man said when she asked where they were. “But where is the rest of your party?”
The whole story came out, and the man listened with amazement. “You’ve traveled over 1,000 miles (1,609 km) all by yourselves?” He shook his head with admiration. “You are one brave girl. Let me tell you the way to Lehi. You’re nearly there.”
“Nearly there,” Mary whispered to herself as the man drew a rough map in the dirt. Nearly to Zion. “I think we might make it, after all.”
Mary and her family made it to Lehi, Utah. She later married and had a large family of her own. Her example of faith and courage has blessed many people.

I joined the Church when I was 17, and I was both the youngest in my family and the only member of the Church. I believed the gospel of Jesus Christ was true—I had prayed about it and felt so much joy. I wanted to live the gospel, but at the same time, I felt overwhelmingly lonely. I received harsh treatment from my friends and some members of my family for joining the Church. I felt like I was having to choose between my relationship with my loved ones and my relationship with the Lord. It felt impossible for me to convince them that I was following the right path.
One day, I remembered something the missionaries had taught me when I was learning about the gospel: the law of fasting.
They had invited me to pray and fast to ask Heavenly Father to soften the hearts of my parents so they would give their consent for me to be baptized. I followed their counsel and felt so much peace and assurance despite my circumstances. My father signed the permission document, which allowed me to be baptized, although my mother still didn’t approve.
As I pondered my family’s current lack of support, I remembered that miracle of peace I’d felt before I was baptized. I recalled that all things are possible to Heavenly Father (see Matthew 19:26) and that as I turn to Him in faith through fasting and prayer, He can make seemingly impossible things possible through faith in Christ.
As we learn in Helaman 3:35, “Nevertheless they did fast and pray oft, and did wax stronger and stronger in their humility, and firmer and firmer in the faith of Christ, unto the filling their souls with joy and consolation.”
I wanted to deepen my trust in Heavenly Father, fill my heart with joy, and do what I could to soften the hearts of those who didn’t support me. So I consistently fasted and prayed for relief from the loneliness I was facing.
Nothing changed immediately. I was told that I was causing challenges in our family because of my Church membership. I felt so alone. But I trusted that Heavenly Father was listening to my prayers and that my fasting would bring blessings. Eventually, I saw a miracle—my parents’ hearts gradually softened toward the gospel.
I also felt my faith in Heavenly Father and my Savior become empowered. My stronger faith helped me know how to respond to others when they were unkind and how to deepen my relationship with loved ones and with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
After a lot of fasting and prayer, I received the answer to serve a mission. Miraculously, my parents ended up getting baptized before I left to serve, and I was also able to be sealed to them in the Manila Philippines Temple a few months before I finished my service.
Fasting continues to bring miracles into my life each fast Sunday. But I also fast when life is uncertain and I’m particularly in need of Christ’s peace.
As President Russell M. Nelson taught: “During times of deep distress … the most natural thing for us to do is to call upon our Heavenly Father and His Son—the Master Healer—to show forth Their marvelous power to bless the people of the earth.”
I can honestly testify that fasting is one amazing way to call upon Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. Fasting continues to change my life and faith. I hope you can see the miracles this sacrifice can bring to your life too.

It was my senior year at Greenwich (Connecticut) High School when I had the chance to take college recruiting trips. Deep in my heart I wanted to play for BYU, but when I made my official visit, Coach Edwards called me in and said, “Steve, we hear you’re a pretty good athlete, but we’re sorry, we don’t have a scholarship for you right now. If one opens up, we’ll let you know.”
Obviously, I was very disappointed when I went home.
But somehow a scholarship did open up. All summer I worked like a crazy man trying to get in shape for football. I ran miles and miles. My dad had an old ’65 Oldsmobile. It was a huge car—the kind that holds five people in one seat. And I used to push that around the neighborhood because I once saw Dick Butkus do it to get in shape. All it did was mess up my back, but I worked as hard as I could to be ready.
As I worked, I tried to figure out which quarterbacks would be in front of me. I thought there were about four ahead of me, and that wasn’t too bad for a freshman. But you never knew. Maybe the coach would really be impressed and make me third team. And then maybe he’d want me to get some playing experience and make me second string. And then, maybe he would think I was great and make me first team as a freshman. That was my frame of mind when I got to BYU that fall.
I remember the day I arrived at school. I went to the fieldhouse and looked at the depth chart, which everyone’s name by position and order. I saw all the names I figured I’d see in front of mine, but there were more. Not until I got to the end of the list did the name Young appear. Eighth-string quarterback—in parentheses. That’s like letting you be in the school choir but putting you off in another room to sing by yourself.
And the parentheses. What did that mean? Maybe waterboy? What?
I soon found out. In practices, I was to play the opposing team’s quarterback. Unfortunately, the defensive players never figured out that I wasn’t really the opposing team’s quarterback. They creamed me all week long.
I remember so many times when the opposing team, with me at quarterback, would run the dumbest plays. They’d have ten guys go one way so the quarterback would be left alone. Then their defense would smash me. I’d be at the bottom of the pile; my helmet would be turned sideways, and I’d be peering out through the ear hole, trying to see where I was.
After about five weeks of that, I became very discouraged. The coach didn’t even know my name. It seemed that nobody cared.
I called my dad and said, “I’ve had it with this whole thing. I’m not having fun; I’m not enjoying myself. I think I’m going to quit and come home.”
Luckily, because he truly cared for me, my dad said, “Son, you can quit, but you can’t come home. I don’t live with quitters.” So there it was. I kept on playing, no matter how discouraging it got.
One of my toughest tests came at the first home game. It was a crisp fall afternoon, the band was playing, the balloons were up, and there were people everywhere. There was excitement in the air, but not in my heart as I walked over to the stadium with that huge crowd. Eighth-string quarterbacks don’t suit up, so I was going to sit in the stands with the rest of the spectators. I was deeply disappointed and discouraged that I wasn’t playing. I wondered how in the world I would ever make it onto that field. It seemed almost impossible.
That very day, right there in the stadium, I decided I would do two things. First, I was going to be the first player on the field every day and the last one off. Second, I was going to give 100 percent to every play I ran, no matter how stupid it was. I was going to execute every play like it was the last one of my life.
Now I was asked to run a lot of dumb plays that season, and I got a lot of mud in my face. There were a lot of days when the varsity players thought I was crazy because I didn’t leave the field until after they did. It was embarrassing, but I hoped it would make a difference.
And it did make a difference. I don’t know exactly what happened. Maybe Coach Edwards glanced over during one of those dumb plays when I was working extra hard, and he said to the coach next to him, “Hey, who’s that scrub quarterback over there? Let’s check him out.” What matters is that I didn’t quit, things got better as the season went on, and I finally got the opportunities I had always hoped and worked for.
The key was learning to develop good habits and self-discipline so when the coach just happened to look, I was doing my best. When I was the eighth-string quarterback in parentheses, becoming the starting quarterback at BYU often seemed impossible. It was the little things I did every day, the habits I developed, that eventually put me on that field in front of 65,000 people. It’s the same way with the gospel and life. Our ultimate goal of returning to live with Heavenly Father may seem an unreachable goal at times, but the daily habits we develop in life are the ones that will help us get there. We need to develop habits of hard work, self-discipline, honesty, consideration, and finding ways to serve those around us. We need to develop the habits of scripture reading, meditation, and starting and ending each day with prayer—good, sincere communication between us and our Heavenly Father.

The trial of my faith came to me at various stages of progression along the journey and was a true refiner’s fire. On one occasion, feeling wronged and hurt, I found myself drawn into an exchange of unfriendly words with a member of my core family. When I realized what was happening, I decided to shut my mouth and leave the scene. As I started walking away, I felt rebuked by the Spirit, so I returned and offered a sincere apology for my part in causing the incident. What followed were mutual tears of regret for what had happened and sincere forgiveness for one another.

Nanette gazed out the rain-spattered living room window from her perch on the big wooden moving crate. She hugged her knees a little closer and gloomily watched the storm drench her new neighborhood.
“My, this rain is refreshing,” Nanette’s mother exclaimed as she scooped an armful of towels out of one of the packing boxes. Then she paused, put down the towels, and climbed over a box to reach Nanette.
“Honey, I know it isn’t easy to leave your friends and school and the only home you’ve ever known, but it could be a wonderful new beginning for you.”
“But, Mom, I don’t even know anyone here,” Nanette said, tears filling her eyes.
“Nanette, we’ve been here only two days,” her mother said kindly. “It takes time for us to feel at home. Now, would you like to help me put away the linens?”
As they put away the last stack of sheets, Todd woke up from his nap and began calling, “Nan! Nan! Nan!” Nanette lifted him out of bed and held him close for a while. Then she put him in his playpen with some toys. But he was not happy and began to cry. He had been unusually fussy ever since they had arrived at their new home.
Maybe it’s hard for babies to move, too. But not as hard as it is for a ten-year-old girl to start a new school near the end of the year without a single friend! Nanette decided.
“Nan,” her mother called from the kitchen. “Now that the storm has let up would you please run to the store for a loaf of bread?”
“Can I take Todd in the stroller?”
“Oh, he’d love it!” Mother answered. “His warm clothes are in the bottom drawer.”
The store was only a couple of blocks away, but Nanette pushed the stroller slowly so she could look around the neighborhood, hoping to see a boy or girl about her own age. The big evergreen trees lining the street had a spicy smell that made her nose tingle, and everything was green and glistening from the rain.
Nanette was taking a deep breath of the cool and fragrant air when suddenly a furry little black dog came bounding toward them. He slid on the slick grass and landed in a puddle in front of the stroller. Todd squealed with delight as Nanette gathered the dripping ball of fur into her arms and held him for her brother to see.
In another minute a girl wearing a bright-colored raincoat came running down the sidewalk toward them. She was about Nanette’s age and she stopped a few feet from Nanette to gaze at her from under her raincoat hood.
Nanette held the dog out and the girl took it, tucked it under one arm, and muttered shyly, “Thanks.”
“Sure,” answered Nanette, trying to sound casual. Both girls stood for several moments waiting for the other to speak. Finally, the girl in the raincoat turned and ran to a nearby house.
On the way back from the store, Nanette saw the girl sitting on the curb tossing leaves into the water. She slowed the stroller and the girl stood up and turned as though she were going to speak, but they only stood face to face again in awkward silence. Relieved a little when Todd began to fuss, Nanette made him comfortable, bit her lip, and began walking toward her new home.
Why didn’t she talk to me? She certainly knows I’m new in the neighborhood. I wonder why she doesn’t like me! Nanette thought as she turned into their driveway.
“I don’t like this place at all!” Nanette exclaimed as she lifted Todd out of the stroller and carried him into the house. She dropped the bread and sank into the nearest chair and complained, “I want to go back to our old neighborhood.”
“What happened?” questioned her mother.
Nanette related the whole episode, becoming even more upset as she talked about it.
“Perhaps the girl is shy,” her mother suggested. “Why don’t you be a little more friendly when you see her again?”
The next morning Father called to say he would be there that night with Nanette’s two older brothers. After Mother was through talking to Dad, Nanette suggested, “Let’s make some chocolate chip cookies for Dad and the boys.”
“That’s a great idea! You can start them while I finish the vacuuming,” Mother agreed.
It wasn’t long before the aroma of freshly baked cookies began floating through the house. After the last batch of cookies was out of the oven and carefully moved to the cooling rack, Nanette said, “I wish I had at least one friend before Dad and the boys get here tonight.”
“Perhaps you will have one,” her mother answered.
“Maybe,” said Nanette as she munched on a warm cookie. Suddenly her eyes brightened. “I have an idea, but I’ll need a few of these cookies. I’m sure Dad and the boys won’t mind!” She quickly chose some of the larger ones and put them on a covered plate.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she called as she hurried out of the door.
When Nanette stopped running to catch her breath, she was almost at the house where the girl lived who had the little dog. But her courage that had carried her this far began to disappear as she walked up the steps toward the big white door.
What if she still won’t talk to me? Nanette wondered. But she hesitated only a minute and then knocked very lightly, hoping that no one would hear and she could just leave the cookies and slip away quietly. However, the door quickly swung open and there stood the girl, staring wide-eyed in surprise.
“I—I—made something for you,” Nanette’s voice trembled.
The girl took the cookies and then stepped back and said with a warm smile, “Please come in.”
Nanette followed her into a cluttered living room and found a place to sit on the sofa between two big boxes of books.
“My name is Cindy,” the girl began, “and I’m so glad you came. After yesterday I didn’t know if I would ever see you again. You see, we just moved here last week and I don’t know anyone yet.”
“What!” exclaimed Nanette. “We just moved here too.”
Both girls began laughing.
“I brought you some friendship cookies,” Nanette explained.
“I’m glad you did,” said Cindy.
The girls smiled at each other. Then they both began asking questions and talking as fast as they could to learn all about their new-found friendship.