Gospel Story Finder

My sisters and I cleaned our toy room. We found a lot of toys that we didn’t play with anymore. So our mommy helped us put them all into a big bag, and then we delivered them to a place that would give the toys to children who don’t have any other toys. I know those children were happy to get my toys, and it made me really happy to give the toys to them.
Hannah Butler, age 4Fayetteville, North Carolina

A few months ago I went to Edmonton for work. The weather conditions were bad, and I struggled to get there. I didn’t know the city and got lost. I needed to find a gas station that sold diesel.
I started to worry. I was on a time budget and needed to get home quickly. I started to call friends who were familiar with the area. I talked to a close friend who was able to direct me. I then called my mom who comforted me and helped me feel safe again. I ended my conversation so I could continue driving.
I drove for a while and started to think I had somehow missed my exit. Worry again came to my mind. I began to scan my surroundings to find any clue about where I was or if I was on the right track. As I rounded a corner, the Edmonton Alberta Temple came into view. It was beautiful and white, with a spire that soared into the air. I could see the golden statue of the angel Moroni. The Spirit flooded my heart, and all fear was swept away. The Spirit seemed to confirm to me that I was going in the right direction.
In my life, I know that sometimes I get scared or worried that I am not going the right way, that maybe I am not even on the right road. But the temple is my beacon, and it helps me to know when I am pointed in the right direction.
When we feel lost, we can look to the Lord and He will show the way. He will be there. He will come in a way that will best serve us.
May we all walk the path with eyes wide open so that we may see the hand of the Lord guiding and watching over our steps.

Ben and Ruby Ann Smith had already been consistent in reading the scriptures as a family for some time and had read all the standard works in their family. But when they made daily study their goal, they expanded their scripture reading from five to seven days a week and discovered that the children were much more eager to read. They began to take the initiative themselves, rather than relying on pressure from their parents. Their daughter Jody is now well past the 365-day mark.

The newly varnished hardwood floor resounds with the pounding of 20 feet and the intermittent squeaking of sneakers as someone does a quick pivot or makes a sudden stop. There is the normal assortment of shouts (“Over here!” “That’s the way!”) as the players put all their effort into the last crucial minutes of the closely scoring game. Suddenly the orange orb makes a satisfying swish as it falls, seemingly effortlessly, through the net at one end of the court, and as the buzzer jangles, a happy shout echoes through the gymnasium. The winning team crowds around the maker of the last-minute basket, hugging and congratulating each other.
Sound familiar? It would, if the shouts of joy weren’t decidedly high-pitched and feminine and if the hero was not a blonde, blue-eyed, and also decidedly feminine girl named Mechelle Hill.
Mechelle may be used to the fanfare of victory, but she doesn’t show any selfish pride as she rejoices with her teammates now. Her face is flushed with exertion, and she brushes her long hair off her shoulders to cool them, but her expression is not weary.
She is still not weary later as she sits in the shade outside the physical education building at the University of Utah, where she is participating in a girl’s basketball camp. This morning they had divided into teams for a tournament; this morning Mechelle had also been chosen to be on the camp’s all-star team, which included many other top high school athletes. It is the final day of the week-long activity, but Mechelle is going strong and is just a bit anxious to get back to the courts. “I like to be up and around, doing things,” she smiles.
The bright blue eyes sparkle a little as she says that, for few things could be truer. The Gunnison Valley (Utah) High School senior had just completed a first-in-state season on the basketball team, had captained a second-in-state softball team, and had been a star participant on the volleyball and track teams. If that weren’t enough, she had graced the boys’ games as well as she high-stepped to the band music at halftime as captain of the drill team. She doesn’t recite all her accomplishments at once but remembers them sporadically with an “Oh, yeah—” and a bit of surprise that anyone would be interested. “I just like to be active,” she grins in surprise at the lengthy list. And there is still more she will not remember until later, when her proud mother reminds her.
It is apparent, talking to Mechelle for the first time, that she has learned about more than slow-pitching and free throws in the course of her competition. She speaks of the excitement of winning, the sense of exhilaration when energies are spent and you’ve done your very best. But more than that, she emphasizes the personal growth that can be had from working together with a group of people for a common goal, of giving of yourself freely. Gospel principles come through as the conversation progresses and it becomes clear that multi-talented Mechelle has developed a philosophy to help her make the best of this expanding, exciting world of women’s sports. “A woman, especially, has to keep her perspective and remember who she is,” says Mechelle seriously. “You can still play basketball and be feminine.” She is living proof of that.
If Mechelle is a unique person, perhaps it is because of her unique position in her family. She is the third oldest of six children—and the only girl. Her father, Bruce, played basketball for BYU, and older brothers Jeff, 20 (now on a mission), and Greg, 18, set a precedent of athletic prowess. The year that Mechelle was a junior, Greg was a senior—and was voted the most outstanding basketball player on the boys’ team. He was also high scorer in the state tournament, in which his team placed fourth. Mechelle was high scorer in her own tournament, and the brother-sister team scored over 200 points in that small stretch of time. Younger brothers Ronnie, 15, Richard, 13, and Bryant, 11, show every indication of following suit.
Following in Mechelle’s footsteps would require a very busy agenda. As well as school sports, she likes to play tennis (“Especially on dates!”), water ski, and swim. Fall brings pheasant hunting (she outscored her brothers on a gun safety test) and dirt-bike riding in the canyons surrounding Gunnison. School itself is fun for Mechelle, who not surprisingly likes PE classes best, but she also enjoys home economics. In fact, she was elected president of the Future Homemakers of America chapter at Gunnison Valley High. Cooking and drawing “are a couple of the few things I will sit down for,” she laughs.
Competition does not take up all of Mechelle’s time and energy. “Winning is important,” she says, “only because it makes you want to do your best. Winning isn’t everything. If you play your hardest and still lose, then that is the way it was meant to be. You’ve got to learn from your experience.”
Learning, not only about the game but about people, is perhaps the best thing about playing on a team, believes Mechelle. “It helps you to get to know other people and to work with them, even though you might be shy. I was a delegate to Girls’ State last year, and I didn’t know a soul. I found my experience in team sports helped me to get involved.”
Team sports for girls are often criticized because of the feelings of rivalry between teams and the harsh attitudes that sometimes develop. Mechelle recognizes this and has learned to cope with it: “Some girls do get ‘tough’—there is a lot of strain and tension. But our basketball team, which is all LDS, tries to keep its cool. Once there was an awful lot of tension in a game, and we all felt it. Afterwards, I said, ‘Hey, you guys, let’s go talk to them.’ Now we’re really good friends with that team.”
The breeze lifts her hair away from her face, which is cooling as she catches her breath. She describes the special relationship her basketball team had, and though she is still animated, there is a serenity about her soft-featured face.
“We would say a prayer before every one of our games, and I would kneel beside my bed before I went, too. I could really feel the Spirit. At our last championship game, we said our prayer, and the Spirit was so strong that we all started crying. Things like that bring us closer together, and we are just like one person playing out on the floor.”
The girl who minutes before was bounding down the basketball court is now a little pensive as she leans her chin in her hands. “I see people in wheelchairs and I feel so blessed. I think if God gives you a talent you should use it; I’m so grateful for what I have, and I hope I can serve people in some way.”
Suddenly her features are lighted up again as she sits straight. “One way I am able to serve is in teaching Junior Sunday School. I’ve got the four-year-olds, and they’re so special! I really love little kids. I’d like to have at least four of my own, and have them grow up together the way my brothers and I did.” Suddenly the interview time is over, and as quickly as she appeared she is bouncing down the stairs back to the basketball court.
The Hill living room in Gunnison is cool and calm after the helter-skelter of the basketball camp, but Mechelle is still as vivacious. In one corner is a lace-covered table on which are propped pictures, trophies, portraits, and certificates collected by the family in the past few years; examination reveals many team photos of both sexes and of several sports. And there are snapshots of the Hill family, who seem to function as a team—without the competitors.
Out in the heat of a southern Utah midday, a box elder in the backyard flutters its leaves and casts a flickering shadow across a large cement square that has been a project of this special ‘team.’ Sister Hill promises that it will soon be a mini basketball court.
“We like to do and accomplish things together,” says Mechelle as she kneels on the grass to play with the family’s three dogs. “We have a camper up in the canyon that we use as a home base for dirt-bike riding, and we like to go skiing and golfing as a family.”
“It’s a lot of fun,” agrees Sister Hill. “Even when it’s hectic, we try to support them in all of their activities. One day we drove over 400 miles to attend both Greg and Mechelle’s tournament games! We feel we have really good relationships.”
Perhaps it was in this family setting that Mechelle first learned what teamwork means. Wherever that lesson was learned, home was the place where she began “never sitting still” as she played with her five brothers. “We always played running games, like cops and robbers, and later we’d shoot baskets and play catch,” she remembers.
As time went on, it became apparent that not only the male members of the Hill clan were endowed with athletic ability. When she entered high school and expressed an interest in basketball, her mother was wary. “It took me about a year to get used to the idea,” admits Sister Hill. “I guess I wanted her to be a dancer or something. But now (she looks at her daughter with pride), we can really see her talent and are thrilled about her success. And her brothers have gained a new respect for her.”
“They’re so funny,” giggles Mechelle. “At one of my games I had a foul called on me, and Greg jumped up and yelled at the ref, ‘That’s my sister, and she doesn’t make fouls!’”
If the brothers had any reservations about having a basketball star for a sister, they don’t now. Perhaps it is because she is still the generous, helpful sister she always has been, and sports have not made her lose that spark of lively femininity she has always had. And it has helped, not hindered, her eternal outlook. “A lot of girls would like to be professionals, and quite often I think it detracts from their desires for a family. Up until a couple of years ago, I kind of wanted to be a pro too, but I’d never do it at the expense of my family.”
It has altered one thing, though, and that is that Mechelle would like to marry an athletic man. “I’d like him to be involved in sports,” she smiles, “but not necessarily professional.” She enjoys dates with boys who play tennis and other coed sports and says that both have fun “no matter who wins!”
But marriage seems a little far away now as she enjoys another year of high school. After graduation she plans to attend college and major in—what else?—physical education.
Mechelle is excited about what the next few years will hold, both on the courts and off. She is a winner in more ways than one.

It was her first day on the job as a dietary aid for a nursing home. Dawn Dyrhaug, 15, of Arlington Heights, Illinois, could have hesitated when she heard the sound of someone choking. What if she did something wrong? She could have held back, but she didn’t.
Dawn went into action. She knew she had only about four minutes to dislodge the food that prevented Clara Lieptz from breathing. Help might not arrive in time. Besides she had been trained to help.
She clasped her hands below the elderly lady’s rib cage in the Heimlich Maneuver. Dawn had learned that in many cases it would be necessary to repeat the procedure. To her relief, however, repeated attempts were not necessary.
In the days following the incident, Clara introduced Dawn as the girl who saved her life. Dawn felt good. For four years during YW girls’ camp with her stake, she had learned lifesaving techniques and first aid.
For having the know-how and exhibiting the courage to use it, Dawn will receive the American Red Cross Certificate of Merit signed by President Reagan and Illinois Governor Thompson.
Dawn is a member of the Northwest Second Ward, Schaumburg Illinois Stake.

Tyler loved having visitors. His family had signed up to help feed the missionaries, and tonight they were coming to dinner. Mom had promised that he could sit next to them.
At the table, Tyler felt shy and didn’t know what to say. He wanted to be a missionary someday, so he listened and watched carefully. He wanted to remember how missionaries act. He looked at their shiny shoes, white shirts, and straight ties. Then he noticed something on their shirt pockets. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to Elder Snow’s pocket.
“My name tag,” Elder Snow replied, holding it up a little.
“‘Elder Snow,’” Tyler read. “‘The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.’ Do all the missionaries have name tags?”
“I think so,” the other missionary, Elder Millburn, replied. “We want everyone to know that we are missionaries for the Church.”
“I always make sure to put my name tag on,” Elder Snow added. “I want everybody to know that I believe in Jesus Christ.”
After the missionaries left, Tyler told Mom, “I’m going to make a name tag. I want to wear one so that people will know that I believe in Jesus Christ.”
Tyler cut a rectangle out of paper and carefully printed his name on it. Below his name, he wrote, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” He taped a folded paper to the back of it to insert in his pocket to hold the name tag on. He went to the mirror to see how it looked.
First thing in the morning he thought about his name tag. Hurriedly he got dressed and put it on.
When Mom went grocery shopping, Tyler went too. He walked around, hoping that everyone saw his name tag. While they were going back to the car, it started to rain. He pushed the cart quickly and helped Mom load the car before they both got very wet. “Such a good helper!” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
At home he helped carry in the groceries. When he leaned over, he noticed that his name tag was torn and sagging. And rain had smeared the words. I need a better name tag, he told himself.
That afternoon, he cut a rectangle out of a plastic lid. He wrote his and the Church’s name on it with a marker so that the words wouldn’t wash away. He taped another piece of plastic to the back and stuck it in his pocket. He had a name tag again. Showing it to Dad, he said, “Just like the missionaries, I like to wear my name tag.”
Tyler went to show his big sister. She was studying at her desk and didn’t seem very happy.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, forgetting about the name tag.
“I have too much homework,” she moaned, “and it’s my turn to do the dishes.” She started writing again.
Tyler watched for a minute. “I’ll do the dishes.”
His sister looked surprised.
“My homework is all done,” he said. “I have time to do them.”
She gave him a hug and exclaimed, “You’re a great brother!”
Tyler did the dishes, but his shirt got wet and dirty. Pulling it off, he threw it in the laundry.
Getting dressed the next morning, he remembered his name tag and ran to the laundry room. His mother had already washed the shirt. She was putting it in the dryer. “Wait!” he yelled, pulling the shirt out of the pile. The name tag fell to the floor, twisted and warped. Tyler couldn’t make it lie flat. He threw it away. I’ll have to make something better, he told himself.
In the garage, Tyler searched for a thin wood scrap. Finding one just the right size, he went in the house to paint it. With a pointed brush he printed the letters. He made two holes in the wood with a hammer and nail, and put a piece of twine through them so that he could wear the name tag around his neck. When he took his shirt off, this name tag would stay put and wouldn’t get ruined. Tyler showed it to Mom and Dad. “Clever,” they told him.
Tyler wanted to show it to his best friend, Jason. He went outside and looked to see if Jason was in his yard next door. From the other direction, a boy on a tricycle whizzed by, laughing. His dog ran along beside him, barking in fun. It was little Jimmy from down the block.
Jimmy’s mother ran after him, calling frantically, “Stop! You’ve gone too far!” But Jimmy didn’t hear her, so Tyler raced to catch up with him. Grabbing the tricycle, Tyler gently pulled it to a stop and turned it around. He led Jimmy and his dog back to his mother.
“Thank you for stopping him,” she said. “He might have ridden into the street and been hurt. You’re a good neighbor!”
Tyler waved good-bye and headed back to find Jason. He reached for his name tag and stopped suddenly. It was gone! It must have fallen off while I was running, he realized. Searching, he finally found it, but the twine was broken and the name tag lay in pieces. It had been run over by the tricycle. Tyler walked home and laid the pieces on the table. “Jimmy ran over my name tag,” he told his mother, angrily. Then, with a big sigh, he said, “But I guess he didn’t mean to.”
A few minutes later, Tyler heard his father come home and ran out to tell him about the name tag.
“You know,” his father said, “not all missionaries wear name tags. When I was a missionary, we didn’t have name tags.”
Tyler was surprised. “How did people know you believed in Jesus Christ?”
“We told them,” Dad said. “And we tried to show them by the way we acted.”
That evening Tyler and his parents went to the stake center because one of his friends was getting baptized. During the meeting, a speaker talked about Jesus Christ. “If we try to live as He did,” the man said, “then people will know that we believe in Him.”
Tyler thought about that as they went home. Remembering what Dad had said, too, he suddenly knew what he could do.
“Mom! Dad!” he said excitedly. “There is a name tag I can wear that won’t get ruined or lost—an invisible one! If I try my hardest to live like Jesus Christ did, it’s like telling people I believe in Him. It’s like wearing an invisible name tag!”
Dad smiled. “You’re right, son.”
Mom hugged Tyler. “I’ve already seen your invisible name tag.”
“You have?” Tyler asked, looking down at his shirt.
“Yes, it’s been there,” replied his mother. “Each time you’ve been helpful and kind—like when you washed the dishes for your sister, and when you helped little Jimmy—your name tag was there.”
Tyler looked down again. He didn’t see the invisible name tag, but his mother had seen it. He hoped other people would see it, too, because he wanted everyone to know that he believed in Jesus Christ.

Before going much further, I would like to introduce my topic with a personal experience. When I was about thirteen years of age, we lived on a cattle ranch in Wyoming. It was a glorious experience for a young man who loved the outdoors. In the spring we often had the experience of having a group of heifers that required constant and watchful care. For those of you who do not know what a heifer is, it is a female cow having her first calf. This situation requires that you check on the heifers about every six hours—including getting up in the middle of the night—so that if a heifer is having a difficult time, she can be assisted and the rancher does not lose the mother and/or the calf.

On one occasion, a rather wild heifer was having difficulty and needed our assistance. My mother, father, and I gathered in the field to try and herd the heifer into a smaller corral in which we could help her. At times such herding can be rather challenging, especially when the herding result is not where the heifer wants to go. We were spread out, with my mother on my left and my father on my right. I was in the middle, being the youngest and the fastest.

As we began to crowd the heifer, she bolted to our left in an attempt to pass between my mother and the fence. My mother ran toward the fence to try and turn the heifer back, but I noticed that the angle she was taking was going to allow the heifer to pass. So I took a deeper angle and ran as well.

I saw my mother slip and dive head first like she was trying to steal second base in the World Series. As you can imagine, in a field full of cattle, there are these round, fresh, brownish piles everywhere. My mother most gracefully slid through one and was covered literally from her face to her toes. Naturally, it was quite funny, and I began to laugh. My mother, being the great sport she is, also began to laugh. However, the heifer got past both of us, and that was not very pleasing to my father, who was not laughing.

My father ordered us to get around and turn that heifer back toward the corral. To his demand, my mother wisely replied, looking directly at me, “Come on, Joe. We are going to the house. He can do it himself.”

Well, I had a real dilemma. Follow my father or obey my mother? I made the correct choice. I followed my mother!

This story took place in Mexico.
Today was the first day of celebrations for Día de Muertos, or Day of the Dead. It was a special time to remember loved ones who had died. Lyan always liked hearing the stories about her family. It made her feel like they were right there with her, even if she’d never met them.
But this year was different. Lyan’s grandma wouldn’t be there to celebrate with them. She had died just a few months ago. This time, Abuela was one of the family members they would remember together.
Lyan reached out and gently touched the photo of Abuela on the ofrenda. She and her sisters, Megan and Leilani, had worked hard all week to prepare it. They decorated the table with care. They put up the photos of their family members. And they placed objects to remember their loved ones on the ofrenda too.
Megan put a bottle of soda on the table.
“Abuela loved this kind of soda,” Megan said. “It should be part of our family ofrenda.”
Lyan remembered visiting their grandmother and drinking soda with her. Abuela would ask them questions and listen to their stories. It was the perfect thing to help them remember her. When Lyan saw the soda, it made her want to be a good listener like Abuela was.
Mamá came into the room with a plate of pan de muerto. Lyan’s sisters ran over to her, begging to try a slice. It was a kind of sweet bread that people all over Mexico ate for Día de Muertos.
“We will have some later,” Mamá said. “For now this plate will stay on the ofrenda next to Abuela’s picture.” She put it on the table. “This looks so beautiful! Now we only need to wait for Papá to come home from work.” She and the girls sat down on the sofa to wait.
“I miss Abuela,” Lyan said. “I wish we could see her again right now.”
Mamá pulled Lyan into a big hug. “I know. I miss her too. It helps me to know that because of Jesus Christ, all of us will be resurrected. And since we were sealed in the temple, we will all be together as a family someday.”
Mamá’s words made Lyan feel happy inside. She thought about getting to see Abuela again and giving her a big hug.
The door opened, and Papá walked inside. Leilani cheered.
“Papá is home! It’s time for pan de muerto and hot chocolate!” Megan said.
“And to tell stories about Abuela!” Lyan said. She would always miss Abuela, but she was glad there were things she could do to remember her. She knew that because of Jesus Christ, she would see Abuela again someday.
Illustrations by Liz Brizzi

I was going to visit my uncle but when I got there, I was told that my uncle had traveled. Instead of seeing him, I was given some books and asked to read them. I met the missionaries and had some friends who met them under a mango tree in the area. The missionaries gave me a Book of Mormon, but I dumped it somewhere because I didn’t want to read it.
Later, after my sister gave me the Church manuals and magazines to read, I decided to pray about it. I was also given another Book of Mormon. I found out that everything the missionaries were talking about made sense to me. At that time, I wasn’t married but thought that if I found someone that I loved, I would want them forever. The church I was attending always said “Till death do us part”. I couldn’t understand having that be the end of the union. When the missionaries talked about the plan of salvation, I was very interested. I said “Wow”. If we can get some authority to bless our marriages here and when we die, we can find ourselves together, then I would want to be in this Church.
Secondly, I am not good at dancing. So, when I would go to the church I was attending, they would always make some music, make noise, and ask us to come and dance. And while you were dancing, you would also be paying some offering. I don’t like that. So, I said I would read about this book and pray to God to find out if it is true. And by so doing, I got baptized.
Before I was baptized, I attended church for several months and did everything but when they talked about baptism, that’s when I was hesitant. Before I started meeting with the missionaries, I had been baptized into the church I was attending. I didn’t want to be baptized again. Finally, I decided to go forward with the baptism.
The next thing I wanted to do was go on a mission. One day my father questioned me asking if the Church I was attending was restored by Joseph Smith? I said “yes”.
He said “Ahh, that church is a cult. I’ve read some things about them. You must be very careful about that church.” I told him “OK, if that is the case, I will pray over it and find out for myself”.
One day I was sleeping, and I had this dream. There were two churches, and they were built across the street from each other. There was a fire burning and people were running all around. The two churches were there, and one was big and the other small. The bigger church had lots of people running into it and a few were running to the small one. The fire was coming, and it was burning the entire city. When the flame got to the two churches, the big church was consumed by the flame and the small church was not. I beheld that the small church had an inscription on it that said, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints”.
I said, “Wow, this is wonderful”. I woke up from my dream and prayed and thanked Heavenly Father for answering my prayers because I thought I was lost, and the Church was somewhere I belonged. A place that would comfort me and where I could have a family. I told my father about it and that I had got an answer. He said, “OK, if you’ve gotten an answer, then you need to go on a mission”.
Within a year, my call came, and I went to the Nigeria Lagos Mission and served faithfully. I returned home with honors. When I was on a mission, I would always bear my testimony that I know the Church is true. This is because I have strong testimony of what I know. I wish that everyone that is investigating the Church could have the same conversion as I had. Joining the Church was not a mistake but rather, I have been saved and I’ve been blessed.
In the Church I’ve been able to educate myself. The Church has taught me a lot. At first, I couldn’t even stand in front of a few people to talk. It has given me the confidence to stand in front of a lot of people and share that the Church is true. When we are on the Lord’s errand and pray and ask Heavenly Father what He wants us to do, He will always show us the way.
I am married with three children. In my family, I am not the oldest, but they always look to me and call me if there is an issue and we discuss it. I tell them we should do things the way that the Lord wants us to. I know that the Church is true, and I am not going back, no matter what.

I made a new friend who was not a member of the Church, and he sometimes invited me to go to parties. These parties were the same day as Mutual, so I told him, “I’m sorry. I would like to go, but I have other plans.”
He asked what I was doing. I told him, “I’m going to Mutual.”
“What’s Mutual?” he asked.
I explained that we had a lot of fun activities at Mutual and that I was serving as a counselor in the presidency. After I turned down three invitations to his parties, he said, “Invite me to Mutual.”
So he came with me, the missionaries taught him, and he was eventually baptized.

About a year after my father’s baptism, he became very ill. Early one Sunday morning, he called my mother, my brothers, my sisters, and me to his bedside. There, he looked at me and said, “My son, I hope you will serve a mission.” After saying these words, he died.

My father’s dying words impressed me so deeply that I did wear the “uniform” of a full-time missionary. I served in the Philippines Quezon City Mission.

Denise Botts of Union City, California, received a trophy for being the outstanding senior on her dance team at James Logan High School. The team competed successfully throughout California.
Denise also played the lead in the school’s musical. Even though she was involved in an automobile accident a few days before she was to audition for the part, she was released from the hospital in time to compete and was awarded the part.
Denise is secretary of her Laurel class in the Union City Ward, Hayward California Stake.

Rain poured from the sky as Katie dashed from under the awning of Fitzgerald’s. She vaulted into the passenger seat of the car waiting at the curb with her brother, Mike, at the wheel.
“It would start to rain as I get off work,” Katie said dismally, flipping down the visor mirror to stare at her sodden hair.
Mike laughed at the face she was making and pulled into traffic.
“Oh! I almost forgot,” Katie said. “Fitzgerald’s is having a sale on men’s white dress shirts—in case you need a few more for your collection.”
“I think Mom bought three or four dozen. Do you think 10 ties is enough?”
“I’d better send you some for Christmas.”
“Don’t forget socks,” Mike reminded her. “And cookies.”
“They’ll be stale by the time they get to Brazil.”
“I can’t go two years without chocolate chip cookies.”
Katie said softly, “I can’t believe you’re going to be gone in a week.”
Mike pulled into their driveway. The rain kept falling. “Gotta make a run for it,” he said.
Katie reached out a hand. “No, Mike, wait. You know, this might be our last chance to talk.”
“You mean you’re never going to speak to me again?” Mike asked in mock horror.
“You know what I mean. Tomorrow Dad’s taking you fishing. Sunday is the farewell, Monday is the good-bye party, and Tuesday you drive to Utah while I work.”
Katie’s eyes blurred as she looked through the drumming rain. She and Mike were only 11 months apart and had grown up practically like twins. They had run track together, fished, camped, had the same friends, and gone to Saturday night dances together. When no one else would listen, Mike always did. But now it was hard to express what she wanted to ask him.
“What’s up, Katie?”
“It’s just … why are you going on a mission?”
“Well,” he began, “I’ve taken the missionary prep class, gone on splits with the full-time elders, saved my money …” He stopped. “I guess that doesn’t really answer the question, huh? I’m going because I’ve got a testimony of the gospel. Does that sound too spiritual?”
Katie shook her head. “You really have a testimony? No doubts, nothing?”
He looked at her questioningly. “I’ve never had doubts; neither have you. Hey, you’ve been Laurel class president.”
“Being the Laurel class president doesn’t automatically give you a testimony.”
Mike stared at her in disbelief. “We’ve been together our whole lives: church, seminary, sunrise testimony meetings; of course you have a testimony.”
Katie’s voice shook. “No, I don’t Mike.” I’ve never told this to anyone, but I really don’t know. How can people say they know?”
“I can’t believe you’re saying this,” Mike said softly.
“Don’t look so shocked, Michael. It’s not the end of the world.”
“How can you go on a mission or get married in the temple? All the big things, I just don’t get it.”
“I’m not planning on getting married next month.”
Mike shook his head. “Your testimony is the most important thing in the world.”
“But what is a testimony?” she challenged.
Meeting the rise in her voice, he quickly said, “A knowledge and belief that the Church is true.”
“How do you get it?”
“Through study, prayer, fasting.”
“The usual, typical answers. Is that how you got it?”
“Of course.”
“How did you know?”
“I just felt it. I’ve always known.”
“But what does it feel like?”
He sighed. “I don’t know how to explain.”
“No one can tell me. Not my seminary teacher, not my leaders, and not you.”
“I thought I knew you better than anyone else, and now it’s like I don’t.”
Katie bit her lip. “You’re not helping me. You’re only making me feel bad.”
“But you have to have a testimony,” he insisted.
“Right.” She opened the car door. “Out of everybody in this world, I thought you’d be the one to listen and understand. I wish I hadn’t brought it up.” Katie got out of the car and slammed the door.
The next morning, Katie stayed in bed until after Dad and Mike had left for the lake. When she came downstairs, she found her mother at the kitchen table eating breakfast.
“I’m just wondering what’s up between you and Mike?” Mom said.
Katie became wary. “Nothing.”
“Actually,” Mom confessed, “Mike told us about your conversation last night.”
Katie set down the milk. “He had no right to tell you that! I confided in him.”
“You’ve been so close. I think he was very shaken by what you told him,” Mom said soothingly.
“Now my whole family thinks I’m apostatizing.”
“I never knew you had concerns about your feelings. I wish you had come to Dad and me.”
“It seems like everybody has a testimony, except me. I thought I was weird or something.”
Mom was thoughtful. “There are probably more people in your shoes than you realize, especially teenagers. We’re not born with a testimony. It takes time, lots of prayer, and seeking for the Spirit. Growing up in the Church can make it harder because it’s always around you. From the time you’re in nursery, it’s something you hear about and learn about every day. It might be harder to recognize because it’s so much a part of you.”
“You’re probably right,” Katie admitted.
Mom leaned forward. “Of course, I don’t recommend going out in the world and ignoring your standards just to see how other people live. Your father and I did that before the missionaries came to our door 20 years ago. We had even decided not to have children.”
“I didn’t know that,” Katie said.
“It’s a sad way to live. When I felt the Holy Ghost bearing the truth to my heart that what the elders were telling me was true, it was so different from anything I’d ever felt, I didn’t have any doubts it was from God.”
“I wish I could have that,” Katie said. “But sometimes I don’t think I feel anything.”
“You might be feeling more than you realize. It just takes careful listening. Having a desire to know is the first step. It will come if you seek it. Jesus Christ himself told us that.”
Even after talking with her mother, Katie had a hard time feeling forgiveness toward Mike. She felt like he’d betrayed her deepest feelings. On Tuesday morning she stood barefoot in the damp grass and saw her family off. She hugged Mom and Dad, then stood awkwardly as Mike put his arms around her and squeezed her.
He whispered, “Please don’t be mad anymore. I need your love to make it the next two years. Write to me, okay?”
She nodded, unable to speak. The car pulled away, and Dad tooted the horn.
She was alone. Even though she had to work every day until her parents returned, the next few days would be time by herself. Time to really think, meditate, read, pray and hopefully get some answers.
She went into the house and grabbed her scriptures. A testimony of the gospel, of the Church. It sounded trite, somehow, and that had always bothered her. There were so many doctrines to have a testimony of. What did it really mean?
She turned to the Topical Guide under testimony and testify and read until she had to get ready for work. The basic foundation was a testimony of Jesus Christ, which made sense. That’s where she needed to start.
A few minutes after Katie checked in at work, she was throwing a pile of newspapers out when a headline in the metro section caught her eye: “Top 10 Reasons People Pick Their Church.” She put it in her purse.
The words ran through her mind. How could there be more than one or two reasons people decide which church to join? Wasn’t the church’s beliefs and doctrine the most important thing?
After her shift, Katie spread open the article. A journalist had conducted a local survey among members of various churches and asked them to list the reasons they had chosen the church they currently attended. The results had been listed in order of the most popular.
The church had a good day-care center close to work.
The church had a good preschool or private school.
The church was close to where they lived.
Their friends attended that church.
They liked the beauty of the church.
The church had a good choir they wanted to join.
The church had a youth program.
They had grown up attending that church.
They liked the minister.
They agreed with the doctrines or beliefs.
Katie set down the paper. Incredible. What she had assumed to be the number one reason was actually the last reason people in her community picked their church.
Had she been going to church because of social reasons and not because of a testimony? But it wasn’t because she didn’t want a testimony. She did. It just seemed like such an elusive thing. She almost felt guilty that she would be going to BYU without a testimony.
Every night that week she lay in bed thinking about the Savior, the scriptures she had read, and her pleading prayers for answers. After several days Katie finally felt the troubled, worried feelings disappearing. She knew she was beginning to feel peace. Her testimony would come, just as Mom said it would. She had to have confidence in the Lord.
Katie sat up and switched on the lamp. She picked up her scriptures and went back to section 9 of the Doctrine and Covenants. She’d read the verses about having a burning in her heart so often she had it memorized. Why couldn’t she have that burning?
Slowly she turned the pages, reading verses at random. Section 6 caught her eye. The Lord was speaking to Oliver Cowdery. “Cast your mind upon the night that you cried unto me in your heart, that you might know concerning the truth of these things. Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?” (D&C 6:22–23).
Katie sank back against the pillows. She knew she had felt peace. And now she knew it was from God. She glanced down at the page and another passage seemed to strike at her heart: “Be faithful and diligent in keeping the commandments of God, and I will encircle thee in the arms of my love. Behold, I am Jesus Christ, the Son of God” (D&C 6:20–21).
Oh, to feel the love of the Savior as if she were encircled by his arms! Tears came to her eyes as she thought about Mike. She shouldn’t have let him go without telling him she loved him. She thought he had betrayed her, but now she realized that she had deserted him also.
It was almost midnight, but she couldn’t go to sleep. She grabbed her pen and started to write.
Dear Mike, I’ve finally had some questions answered. Probably the best person answered them, too. The one that counts. Maybe I wanted to be struck by lightning or have a revelation or something. But it was even better than that. Now I can know deep inside my heart, where it will never leave.
I’m sorry for how I acted when you left for Utah. I guess I was angry with you for breaking my confidence, but now I know I hurt you also and I wish I could go back and re-do all your last days at home. Would you please forgive me? I do know that you’re going to be a great missionary, and I’m rooting for you! With all my love, Your sis, Katie.
She folded the letter, got in her pajamas, and went to find her brother’s address.

A couple of months ago I was traveling to New York. While I was there I decided to take a trip to visit my brother who lives in Palmyra, New Jersey. I don't know how many of you have ever driven in Manhattan but it can be a frightening experience if you're not from the City. I decided to rent a GPS unit so that I could find my way out of the city and to the Holland tunnel which would lead my to the New Jersey turnpike. I put in the address of where I started and the address of where I wanted to end up. I was amazed that it told me how to get out of the parking garage and then on my way to the tunnel.
As I approached the tunnel the entrance was blocked and I had to find another way. As I drove past the entrance a friendly voice came on and said recalculating recalculating. I thought to myself hurry and recalculate because the people behind me are not very patient. I found my way through the tunnel and onto the New Jersey turnpike. Finally I got to the exit that would take me to Palmyra. As I was heading down the road I missed another turn, my friend spoke again, "recalculating, recalculating." I thought this was fun so I purposely missed a couple of more turns just to see if my voice would get me back on track. Well just like the GPS that recalculated my driving instructions, the scriptures help us to do the same and get safely to our designation.

“Recently I have had a lot of personal accomplishments that have helped me feel good about my abilities,” wrote 18-year-old Brian Whitmer. “One night, though, I was reading Alma 26:12 where Ammon gives God credit for everything, and I realized I hadn’t been doing so. Then President Hinckley’s words reinforced my decision to give God credit—to thank Him for His help and blessings in my personal life. Since then I’ve noticed a change in my life as I’ve become more spiritual and more grateful.”

President Hinckley: … She has run the house all these years. When our children were growing up, I was away much of the time on Church assignments. In the early days, when I had responsibility for the work in Asia, which I had for a long time, I would be gone for as long as two months at a time. We couldn’t telephone back and forth all the time in those days. She took care of everything. She ran the home. She ran everything and took care of the children.

We had a garden in our backyard. When I came home from one of my long assignments, I found that it had all been planted to lawn. She and the children had spaded up that backyard, sown lawn seed, and there was a beautiful lawn! The garden didn’t suffer, because we could plant another garden to the south of us. But that whole backyard became a beautiful patch of lawn.

That’s typical of the way she did things. She was independent and had a great eye for beauty.

Elder Eyring: Throughout my life, the scriptures have been a way for God to reveal things to me that are personal and helpful. When I was a little boy, I was given a small Bible. If I remember correctly, it was only the New Testament. For some reason, I was drawn to 1 Corinthians 13, which is about charity. Somehow, even in my childhood, I knew that for me that chapter was about the family I would have someday. Years later, before I was married, I received a patriarchal blessing. In that blessing, the patriarch described the feeling that would be in the home I would someday have. He described exactly what I had felt years before when I read 1 Corinthians 13.
The scriptures were one of the ways God spoke to me—even when I was a child—about my needs, my situation, and my life. They still are. Since our needs change over a lifetime, God has different things to tell us at different times.

Maria Vashchenko from Kyiv, Ukraine, noticed the impact of a woman who became aware of her 13-year-old son’s music abilities. The woman invited him to play the piano for the cultural celebration before the dedication of the Kyiv Ukraine Temple. He had been strongly considering quitting music at the time, but he agreed to accept her invitation.

“This was a turning point in my son’s life,” said Maria. “The concert was great! Afterward, we told our son that he could now quit music, but he replied that he would not. He graduated from music school with excellent grades, mastered several more musical instruments, began to write music and songs, and created a music group. When he went on a mission, he organized musical activities, played hymns at sacrament meeting, conducted a missionary choir, and taught investigators to play the guitar and piano. We will always be grateful for the sister who helped our son develop his talents.” The influential sister made a difference simply by knowing the young man’s skills and inviting him to use them to bless others.

One summer, my mother and I went on a humanitarian trip to Guatemala. One day, we went to the Semac Champey, a park with pool after pool of deep blue water connected by rock terraces overflowing with water.
Our group hiked up the steep, rugged path to the cliff top overlooking the pools. The hike involved many staircases along a sheer drop-off. Several times we had to stop by a bench just to catch our breath.
After hiking for hours, my mother was winded and tired. She stopped alongside the trail, saying she would join us on our way back down.
I continued about 200 feet farther and came to the clearing with the lookout. The view was beyond words. Hurriedly, I ran back to my mother and encouraged her to come and see it.
As we rested and took in the view, I thought about how that hike is like our lives. Though the pathway of the gospel is straight and narrow, sometimes it seems like a vertical climb. We get discouraged as friends give up or turn back to paths that seem easier. And the adversary is constantly there, telling us that we’re foolish or just not spiritually cut out for the journey.
But we shouldn’t give up. Eternal life, just like that view, will be beyond words. Though we won’t achieve perfection in our mortal state, we can reach any heights through Christ, and He will always be there to help us for those last 200 feet.
Since this experience, I’ve tried to not give up on my hike to heaven. The Lord has blessed me in my efforts to fulfill His commandments and serve others. I know that He will help all of His children. Our part is to keep pressing on.

I have been blessed to have a mother who has spent her life preparing to meet God. She understands the principles of creating, learning, and serving in this life. Her motto has been “Welcome the task that makes you go beyond yourself, and you will grow.” Let me tell you a few highlights from her adventure-filled life. In her youth she lived in the wild Uinta Mountains, where her father worked. She learned to cut tall trees, fish, and camp in the outdoors. During the winter she attended school in the city, played on a basketball team, and learned to play the trumpet. She went to the university and became a nurse. After she was married, she went on a mission with her husband to Brazil, where she learned to speak Portuguese. She has traveled to many countries and has taught the gospel to thousands. She studies the scriptures daily, has written several family history books, works in the temple, keeps track of 62 grandchildren, and can cook 600 doughnuts in one morning!
My mother has stayed in the Savior’s path with unshaken faith in Him (see 2 Ne. 31:19) all the days of her life. She wakes up every day looking forward to new adventures. For her, life is so interesting, and she still has so much to learn.