Gospel Story Finder

During the next few months, I spent a lot of time at home and had plenty of time to think. I grieved for the loss of the person I thought I would be in my later years. I grieved for the future that my wife and I had previously envisioned. I endured days of discouragement. I prayed a lot as my symptoms grew worse. My need to find positive ways of coping increased.
Then the Lord provided an unexpected source of support. My wife and I were called to be our ward’s welfare and self-reliance specialists. As part of our calling, we facilitated a group meeting on emotional resilience. I had not thought about needing the class personally. However, by the end of the first meeting, I thought, “Wow! This is for me!” We talked about avoiding negative thought patterns, being positive, controlling our feelings. It gave me some practical tools that, over time, helped me—and my wife as well—to develop a healthy attitude toward my disease.

One day last year, my friend invited me to his house to have a tea party with him and his sisters. I thought they would have pretend tea at their party. Instead, they offered me real tea with honey. I remembered a story I had read about President David O. McKay. Once when he visited the queen of the Netherlands, the queen offered him tea. He politely refused it. I knew that if tea isn’t good for a prophet, it isn’t good for me.
I told my friends, “No, thank you. Tea isn’t good for you.” They didn’t know about the Word of Wisdom, and they told me that tea was good for me. But I said, “No, thank you,” again. So my friends gave me some water to drink, and we had a good time together.
When I made this choice, I had a good feeling inside. My mom and dad said I had set a good example for my friends who aren’t members of the Church. I know that Jesus Christ wants me to take care of my body, and I am trying to do what He wants me to do.

I have discovered a profound and noteworthy fact. When girls hit high school age, fathers often hit bottom on daughters’ priority lists. It’s not that we stop loving our fathers; it’s that we have more important male individuals on our minds. Unfortunately, dad is sometimes forgotten for a while.
I was no exception to this phenomenon. During my senior year of high school, I met, dated, and was totally devoted to Mr. Wonderful. We attended most of the dances and other major school events together. But the summer after we graduated, Mike hit me with speech number 36. You know, the one that goes something like “We should date other people more often, but we can still be friends.”
I suppose this was Mike’s way of cutting the ties that bind and branching out a bit. After all, Mr. Wonderful should not hide his light under a bushel. He simply must sacrifice and share his wonderfulness with others. I know I sound bitter, but you see, the decision to part was one-sided (his), and the breakup shattered my little world. I cried my eyes into red puffiness.
Now parents are very perceptive people. Somehow they saw right through my heroic effort to carry on. (Maybe my chin dragging on the ground gave me away.)
“Is there anything wrong, dear?”
“No,” was my typical teenage answer.
Teenagers usually say no. They could be wounded and near death, and when you ask if anything is wrong, they will say no. Persistently and patiently, my parents got to the root of the problem.
They were reassuring and loving as they expressed their regret. Looking back now, I realize they were probably very happy, but they had the good sense to act woeful. My mother said something about these things happening to almost everyone at some time in their lives. She also said I would live through it. Dad added the old favorite, “Time heals all wounds.”
Now I knew all of this. I had said the same thing to girlfriends going through this same tragedy. But none of that lessens the pain at the time.
I went to work the next day feeling tired and dejected, and I tried to convince myself that I didn’t care. And every time the telephone rang, I pounced on it, hoping it would be Mike.
Around two that afternoon, a man in a uniform came up to the desk where I was working.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Are you Carol?” he said as he thumped a bouquet of beautiful flowers on the desk.
Oh, Mike, you’ve come to your senses, I thought as I grabbed the enclosed card and ripped it open.
“Can I be your new friend? Love, Dad.”
I will never forget the effect those simple words had on me. Each time I read that card, I felt love. My heart was full with the knowledge that my father loved me. He laughed and cried, hurt and rejoiced right along with me. He was concerned and interested in my life. But I had been too wrapped up in the hustle and bustle of my high school existence to include him, and that was my loss. My father climbed to the top of my priority list that day.

One day on the way to work I saw two young men preaching the word of God in the street. They stopped me and asked if I wanted to know more about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. At the time, I didn’t know where my family was headed. We had no spiritual compass to find our way.
I had been drinking alcohol that morning, so I don’t remember much of what the missionaries told me. But they gave me a Book of Mormon and a pamphlet about the Prophet Joseph Smith, along with their phone number. Later that day, I started reading. Something touched my soul when I read the Book of Mormon, and I was amazed how a 14-year-old boy could have such a great vision.
I was searching for truth, so I started meeting with the missionaries. After taking most of the lessons, I knew I needed to get baptized. But as the day of my baptism approached, we held a lesson that was hard for me to hear. That lesson was on the Word of Wisdom.
That lesson was hard for me because I drank a lot. My work environment was tough. Everyone I worked with drank, and so I did too. I would often go out drinking after work and come home late at night.
But the missionaries did a great job. I still love them for it. They taught me that God wants us to be strong and that He gave us the Word of Wisdom to bless us. Obeying this law was really hard for me, but slowly, I started to keep it. I remember calling the missionaries every day, updating them on my progress, and telling them that I did not drink that day. They were so happy with my progress.
With their help, I got baptized and entered the fold of Jesus Christ. I felt the Spirit that beautiful day! But I was alone when I joined the Church. I wanted my family to be with me.
When I talked to my wife, Clirime, about the Church, she would not listen at first. Her grandfather belonged to a different religion, and she wondered why The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints had even come to Albania. I knew that the only way I could bring her into the gospel was through my example. Through our actions, people can see who we really are.
Clirime noticed changes in me as I gave up alcohol and started coming home early from work. Because of the changes I was making, she started to feel the Spirt of God as I told her about the Church. I cannot describe the happy feeling I had when she told me that one day she would also get baptized. Soon she began taking the missionary lessons, which I helped the missionaries teach. I was especially happy when she set a date for her baptism, six months after I was baptized.
With her baptism, and the baptism of our two children when they each turned eight, I felt that we could become an eternal family. But baptism was just the beginning. To prepare to go to the temple, we knew that we had to follow God to the end of our lives, keeping the commandments, going to church, partaking of the sacrament, serving in callings, reading the scriptures, and learning more about covenants and the plan of salvation.
The day we were sealed as a family in the Frankfurt Germany Temple was another beautiful day. In the temple, I came to understand more about the plan of happiness our God has for us, and I felt His love.
I still remember the promises Clirime and I made in the temple. Whenever something goes wrong or we are having a hard time, my mind goes back to those promises.
As a family we try to live in harmony with each other because that is what we felt in the temple. Every time I think of the temple, I feel happy and blessed. I know that God is real and that He loves us and wants us to be happy.

One Saturday in the middle of winter, my wife and I took advantage of a sunny but cold day to get to know our neighborhood better. We had recently moved thousands of miles from our home to the East Coast of the United States to pursue educational and career opportunities.
We decided to walk to a nearby university neither of us had visited. In time we found the university’s main library. We enjoy reading, and my wife, a graduate student, was curious to see what resources she might find for her studies. Because she was studying religious history, we browsed the stacks of the library’s religion section. As we glanced at some of the interesting titles, a small book with a familiar blue cover caught my eye.
“They have a Book of Mormon here!” I excitedly whispered.
I took the book from the shelf. It was an older copy, and I wondered how long it had been there. What really caught my attention was a small insert glued inside the front cover.
The insert was a brief testimony by a couple from Blackfoot, Idaho, USA. In their testimony, they explained what the Book of Mormon is and why it is important. They shared a brief but powerful testimony of the book, and they invited the reader to pray to know whether it was true.
Their words were simple, but their message went straight to my heart. Perhaps this couple meant for their testimony to be read by those not of our faith. Perhaps they had given this copy to someone they knew. Who knows how many times it had changed hands or how many miles it traveled to end up at the university library?
As I held the book in my hands, the Spirit filled my heart. For a moment, I felt my burdens wash away in the warmth of the Savior’s love.
That day in the library continues to remind me of the blessings I receive by reading the Book of Mormon and of the importance of sharing my testimony of it. Our testimonies may fall “upon stony places” or “into good ground” (see Matthew 13:3–9), but it is important that we share them. God will make sure they get delivered at the right time, in the right place, and to the right people.

Then there was a Sunday School teacher—never to be forgotten, ever to be remembered. We met for the first time on a Sunday morning. She accompanied the Sunday School president into the classroom and was presented to us as a teacher who actually requested the opportunity to teach us. We learned that she had been a missionary and loved young people. Her name was Lucy Gertsch. She was beautiful, soft-spoken, and interested in us. She asked each class member to introduce himself or herself, and then she asked questions that gave her an understanding and an insight into the background of each boy, each girl. She told us of her childhood in Midway, Utah; and as she described that beautiful valley, she made its beauty live, and we desired to visit the green fields she loved so much. She never raised her voice. Somehow rudeness and boisterousness were incompatible with the beauty of her lessons. She taught us that the present is here and that we must live in it. She made the scriptures actually come to life. We became personally acquainted with Samuel, David, Jacob, Nephi, and the Lord Jesus Christ. Our gospel scholarship grew. Our deportment improved. Our love for Lucy Gertsch knew no bounds.
We undertook a project to save nickels and dimes for what was to be a gigantic party. Sister Gertsch kept a careful record of our progress. As boys and girls with typical appetites, we converted in our minds the monetary totals to cakes, cookies, pies, and ice cream. This was to be a glorious occasion—the biggest party ever. Never before had any of our teachers even suggested a social event like this one was going to be.
The summer months faded into autumn; autumn turned to winter. Our party goal had been achieved. The class had grown. A good spirit prevailed.
None of us will forget that gray morning in January when our beloved teacher announced to us that the mother of one of our classmates had passed away. We thought of our own mothers and how much they meant to us. We felt sorrow for Billy Devenport in his great loss.
The lesson that Sunday was from the book of Acts, chapter 20, verse 35: “Remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, It is more blessed to give than to receive.” At the conclusion of the presentation of a well-prepared lesson, Lucy Gertsch commented on the economic situation of Billy’s family. These were depression times; money was scarce. With a twinkle in her eyes, she asked, “How would you like to follow this teaching of the Lord? How would you feel about taking your party fund and, as a class, giving it to the Devenports as an expression of our love?” The decision was unanimous. We counted very carefully each penny and placed the total sum in a large envelope.
Ever shall I remember the tiny band walking those three city blocks, entering Billy’s home, greeting him, his brother, sisters, and father. Noticeably absent was his mother. Always I shall treasure the tears which glistened in the eyes of each one present as the white envelope containing our precious party fund passed from the delicate hand of our teacher to the needy hand of a grief-stricken father. We fairly skipped our way back to the chapel. Our hearts were lighter than they had ever been, our joy more full, our understanding more profound. This simple act of kindness welded us together as one. We learned through our own experience that indeed it is more blessed to give than to receive.
The years have flown. The old chapel is gone, a victim of industrialization. The boys and girls who learned, who laughed, who grew under the direction of that inspired teacher of truth have never forgotten her love or her lessons.
Even today when we sing that old favorite—
Thanks for the Sabbath School. Hail to the day
When evil and error are fleeing away.
Thanks for our teachers who labor with care
That we in the light of the gospel may share.5
—we think of Lucy Gertsch, our Sunday School teacher, for we loved Lucy, and Lucy loved us.

The parents of many of these youth are not members of the Church, but they have allowed their children to be baptized. Recently, I met with one of the parents. He wanted to know more about the Church his son was attending.
“I’ve seen a lot of change in my son,” he said. “He’s a different person. He’s obedient and nice at home. I want to find out why.”
This father came to church and saw for himself that the Savior’s teachings and restored gospel were what had changed his son’s behavior. “Now I know that where my son goes is a nice place,” he said afterward. “I will allow others to come too.”

Aioo Suisala just turned 19. He works to earn money for his mission. On Saturdays and during school vacations he works with Letane and Sosaia at nearby plantations with many of the other people from the village. They get to the fields either by walking or riding horses. At the plantations they weed the taro plants, fumigate, pick bananas, and check how the pineapples are ripening.
On Sundays Aioo, who is assistant ward clerk, Sosaia, and Letane attend Church meetings and take care of their responsibilities in the ward. Their chapel is less than ten years old, and the local Saints helped to build it. Aioo and Sosaia both remember working on it.
Aioo stands in stake conference in Pesega as he is sustained to be ordained to the Melchizedek Priesthood. He has been looking forward to and preparing for this day for a long time because it means that he is almost ready to go on his mission.

A Sunbeam teacher wrapped each of her class members one by one in a blanket to teach them how the Spirit feels like the comfort and security of that covering. A visiting mother also heard the lesson.
Many months later the mother thanked the teacher. She told how she had been less active when she accompanied her young daughter to Primary. Several weeks after the lesson, the mother suffered a miscarriage. She was overcome with grief when suddenly she felt a great warmth and peace. It felt like someone had covered her with a warm blanket. She recognized the reassurance of the Spirit and knew that Heavenly Father was aware of her and that He loved her.

In 1840, when Charles was twenty-one years old, he heard two Mormon missionaries preaching the gospel. He knew that what they were teaching was true, and he asked to be baptized. Charles was the only member of his family to join the Church. Not long after his baptism, Charles also became a missionary and was the companion of the missionary who baptized him! Charles served his mission in England and North Wales until 1843.

I said I was speaking to the young. I still am. A 14-year-old boy recently said to me a little hesitantly, “Brother Holland, I can’t say yet that I know the Church is true, but I believe it is.” I hugged that boy until his eyes bulged out. I told him with all the fervor of my soul that belief is a precious word, an even more precious act, and he need never apologize for “only believing.” I told him that Christ Himself said, “Be not afraid, only believe,” a phrase which, by the way, carried young Gordon B. Hinckley into the mission field. I told this boy that belief was always the first step toward conviction and that the definitive articles of our collective faith forcefully reiterate the phrase “We believe.” And I told him how very proud I was of him for the honesty of his quest.

Melissa’s parents are divorced. On the weekends that she spends with her father, she attends church with him. But when she stays with her mother, she is not allowed to go. Melissa was given a part in the Children’s Sacrament Meeting Presentation, but the presentation was scheduled for a weekend when she would be staying with her mother. Melissa was disappointed, because she wanted to participate. She prayed every night that her mother would allow her to go to church. On the day of the presentation, Melissa found the courage to tell her mother how important going to church was to her and to ask her mother for permission to attend and participate in the presentation. Her mother said yes! When Melissa stood at the pulpit, tears ran down her face as she told of her gratitude to Heavenly Father for answering her prayers and giving her the courage to choose the right.

To become consistently charitable is a lifelong quest, but each act of love changes us and those who offer it. Let me tell you the story of a young woman I met recently. Alicia, as a teenager, had drifted far from the Church, but later she felt stirrings to return. She often visited her grandfather in a retirement home on Sundays. On one of those days she decided to attend the Latter-day Saint meetings there. She opened the door and found a Relief Society meeting, but no empty seats. As she was about to leave, a woman motioned to her and scooted over to make room for her on her chair. Alicia said: “I wondered what the woman would think of me. I was covered with body piercings, and I smelled of smoke. But she didn’t seem to mind; she simply made a place for me at her side.”
Alicia, heartened by this woman’s charity, returned to activity. She has served a mission and is now sharing that same kind of love with other women. The elderly sister who shared her chair understood that there is a place for every woman in Relief Society. Sisters, we gather for strength, but we bring with us all our weaknesses and imperfections.
Alicia told me something I will never forget. She said: “I only do one thing for myself when I go to church: I take the sacrament for me. The rest of the time I watch for others who need me, and I try to help and nurture them.”

One of my friends is very special, and I call him Cheep. My younger brother, Craig, has a special friend too. He calls him Cheepest. Both of our praying mantis friends like to play with us and crawl on our hands and arms. One day when I was holding Cheep he jumped onto my face. That really tickled! I wanted to take him off, but my Dad said, “Wait!” He wanted to take a picture of him.
It was very hard to hold still with Cheep on my face. I blinked hard and shut my eyes tight. “Hurry up, Dad!” I shouted. But Dad seemed to be enjoying watching me and wanted to get more pictures. “Hold still, Keith,” he cautioned. “Just a couple more minutes.”
By now I was starting to sweat a lot. Finally Cheep crawled over my forehead and did a Tarzan swing from one lock of my hair to another. He’s a real strange guy.
You probably wonder where all of our praying mantises come from. Well, in the fall the large ones lay lots of eggs on our trees and the walls of our house. Then in the spring when they first feel the warm rays of the sun, they begin to hatch. Every day we check to see if they’ve started hatching, so we can watch them and take pictures of them. This is really fun! First one will come out of the egg case and then another. They stretch and squirm to get out, and then they rest in the sun until they feel brave. Sometimes fifteen or twenty of them will be resting by an egg case when we find them. When they see us, they run away.
Once when Grandma and Grandpa Wakefield were visiting us from Minnesota, we watched some eggs that were hatching on the wall of our house. Right beside the egg case a spider had built a nest; and whenever a small mantis came out, the spider would dash over and bite him, spin him up in a web like a mummy, and pull him over to his nest. I wanted to squash that spider, but Grandpa said that spiders need to live too.
The little mantises that aren’t eaten by spiders run off to live in our flower beds and garden. There they sit very quietly until an even smaller insect comes by that they can catch and eat. As they get bigger, their appetites get bigger too, and they crawl out of their old skins and grow new ones. When they are full grown they are two or three inches long. Once we saw one of these big ones catch a stinkbug on some vines near our house. And another time we saw one catch a honeybee that was eating an old pear that had fallen off our pear tree. It was kind of scary.
In the fall, after they have laid their eggs, the big mantises die. That’s what my dad said he read in a book, anyway. But one time we found some that had lived over the whole winter in the vines by our house. I think that they must have hibernated.
We always try to be nice to our praying mantis friends, because they eat a lot of bad insects that hurt our garden. They are also fun to study and write stories about.

Willian M., age 15, shared: “The missionaries were the first to bring me to church. Then what kept me going was everyone’s reception. I thought that coming to this Church would be just to hear something about the gospel and then go back home, but I realized that it wasn’t just that—it was something very welcoming. When Bishop Gil Santos was called as our bishop, he invited young people to work, with the aim of bringing more young people to the Church. He knew that young people are the future of the Church. That’s why I’m here!”

One of the greatest challenges Tina faces is resisting peer pressure. In her school, many students engage in activities that go against gospel principles, such as vaping. “When I started high school, I was unsure if I should be friends with some people because they didn’t always make good choices,” Tina shares. Instead of giving in, she decided to surround herself with friends who support her standards. “I wanted to be in an environment that helps me choose the right. I didn’t want to be pressured into stuff that I know isn’t right,” she explains.

In the weeks following my diagnosis I often found myself on my knees, pleading with the Lord. I learned that Parkinson’s is a progressive disease and that I would continue to lose control of my muscles. The more I read, the more frightened I became. I spent many sleepless nights. I also felt an impression from the first words of the diagnosis that there would be no miracles to remove this trial from me and that I needed to learn something from this experience. I felt so alone and wondered if the Lord was displeased with me, if He still loved me.
Then one night, as Ron was getting ready to go to Mutual, there was a knock at our door. We opened the door and found a delicious meal left anonymously on our front porch. A loving note stated that every week on this night a dinner would arrive. As I tasted the goodness of this delicious meal, not only was my body fed, but my spirit also. I realized I am not alone and the Lord does love me. I tasted again of the sweet peace He has promised us. I was grateful for these dear secret angels who honored their baptismal covenants “to mourn with those that mourn” and “comfort those that stand in need of comfort” (Mosiah 18:9). I knew that through the ministering of these “earthly angels” I would find the strength to make it through each day.
It has now been more than three years since we found that first dinner. Every Mutual night since then we have received a wonderful meal, always left anonymously on our front porch. Ward boundaries have changed, and people have moved in and out of our ward. But the meals continue to come. Often I have struggled with a particularly difficult day, forgetting it is our “Secret Angels Day.” And then the doorbell rings, and I find another delicious gift of love.

There is yet another gift some of you may want to give that takes starting early. I saw it started once when I was a bishop. A young man sat across my desk from me. He talked about mistakes he had made. And he talked about how much he wanted the children he might have someday to have a dad who could use his priesthood and to whom they could be sealed forever. He said he knew that the price and pain of repentance might be great. And then he said something I will not forget: “Bishop, I am coming back. I will do whatever it takes. I am coming back.” He felt sorrow. And he had faith in Christ. And still it took months of painful effort.

And so somewhere there is a family with a righteous priesthood bearer at its head. They have eternal hopes and peace on earth. He’ll probably give his family all sorts of gifts wrapped brightly, but nothing will matter quite so much as the one he started a long time ago in my office and has never stopped giving. He felt then the needs of children he had only dreamed of, and he gave early and freely. He sacrificed his pride and sloth and numbed feelings. I am sure it doesn’t seem like sacrifice now.

Most recently, my husband taught our children about the story of Moses. I said, “I think the faith of Moses’s mother is amazing! She sent him down the river and prayed that Heavenly Father would keep him safe. Can you imagine the great faith it took for her to trust Heavenly Father with her baby?”
Lucy asked, “Mom, do you have that much faith?”
It was a profound question. I thought about it for a moment and then shared a few experiences that I have had when I successfully relied on the Lord with faith. The discussion that followed was edifying for the entire family. Her question comes to my mind all the time. It is strengthening to know that I can have faith like Moses’s mother.

Today we have temples throughout the world to bless the Saints. Although you may not be old enough to participate in all the ordinances of the temple, you can participate in the blessings of the temple by doing baptisms for the dead when you become 12 years of age. And whether we live next door to a temple or thousands of miles away, we can live worthy each day of enjoying the blessings of temple attendance. The Lord tells us in the Doctrine and Covenants, “My disciples shall stand in holy places, and shall not be moved” (45:32). This means that we must live lives of worthiness in order to enter and enjoy the blessings of the temple. May I recommend a few ways that we can “stand in holy places” now wherever we are:
1 Always live the standards in the For the Strength of Youth pamphlet, and avoid “unholy places.” To enter the temple, we must be worthy. It helps when we stand in holy places now. That means avoiding places and times when we would be tempted to make wrong choices. I recall a story by President J. Reuben Clark Jr. (1871–1961), a counselor in the First Presidency, about his teenage daughter. She was leaving for a dance, and he said, “Have fun, my dear. Be back by midnight.” She replied, “Daddy, this is the night of the prom. We go to the dance and are not back until early morning.” President Clark responded, “Yes, I know that is what many will be doing. But you must be back before midnight.” She, then, in desperation said, “Daddy, you just don’t trust me!” To which he replied, “My dear, in the wrong place, at the wrong time, I don’t even trust myself. Be back by midnight.”
You make similar decisions everywhere you go. Wherever you are, ask yourself, “Is this a place where the Spirit can dwell?” If not, have the courage to leave. If your room (including the pictures on the wall) is not someplace the Spirit can dwell, change it so it is. Learn early to stand in holy places, to associate with good friends, so that you will be supported in your quest to always be worthy to enter the Lord’s house.
2 Stay close to and help strengthen your family. The message of the temple is a message about families—eternal families. Our homes can be places of holiness and strength. The For the Strength of Youth pamphlet teaches:
“Being part of a family is a great blessing. Your family can provide you with companionship and happiness, help you learn correct principles in a loving atmosphere, and help you prepare for eternal life. Not all families are the same, but each is important in Heavenly Father’s plan.
“Do your part to build a happy home. Be cheerful, helpful, and considerate of others. … Seek to be a peacemaker rather than to tease, fight, and quarrel. Remember that the family is the most sacred unit of the Church.”
3 Make scripture study a part of your life—not only by reading regularly but also by relying on the scriptures to help you make important decisions.
When I was a mission president in northern Germany, I had a very difficult problem. I had searched in vain for an answer for many weeks. One morning I was reading in the Book of Mormon where Nephi was commanded to build a ship: “And I, Nephi, did go into the mount oft, and I did pray oft unto the Lord; wherefore the Lord showed unto me great things” (1 Nephi 18:3). As I read that small passage, the impression came to me, “That is what I need to do.” I pondered and prayed, and finally the answer came, and I knew what I needed to do. I am grateful for that little window of inspiration that came—as I was searching the scriptures. As I received my answer, I felt that I was “standing in a holy place.” I know that you too can have similar experiences as you search, ponder, and pray about the scriptures.
4 Attend seminary when you are old enough. I have found that regular attendance in seminary helps youth remember that they are indeed sons and daughters of God, that they can always ask Him for help in making choices, and that He answers their prayers. It is also a place where they are reminded that they are not alone and that there are many others around the world who are striving to stand in holy places and live worthy lives.
5 Fill your mind with positive, clean, and uplifting thoughts. My patriarchal blessing promises, “Look to the light above, and those who go with you will know that you seek for something higher.” I have found that the best way to keep my sights on the light above is to control my thoughts by memorizing scriptures, poetry, hymns, and other uplifting material. Then when we are tempted by unclean or negative thoughts, we can substitute those positive thoughts and drive out the unclean and impure ones.
6 Have a picture of a temple in your room. When our children were young, we asked each of them to select a temple that had particular meaning to them. We then purchased pictures of the selected temples for their rooms to help them remember the importance of the temple and of always being worthy to enter the temple. There is something powerful about seeing a picture of the temple day after day and using that to recommit ourselves to remain worthy to attend the temple. You might even want to put your own picture next to the temple to remind yourself that you belong in the temple!
7 Spend time developing your talents and becoming what our Heavenly Father expects you to become. We are blessed to have the Young Women Personal Progress program and the Aaronic Priesthood Duty to God program. The purpose of each is to help us become like the Savior by setting and accomplishing worthy goals, developing character and life skills, strengthening our families, and helping us develop faith in Jesus Christ.
8 When you become 12 years of age, attend the temple to do baptisms for the dead whenever you can. We live in a blessed day when 124 temples dot the earth. Many of you can attend the temple as youth groups and as families. But even if you do not have a temple near you, you can enjoy the blessings of the temple by learning more about the temple and always being worthy to hold a temple recommend. When I was a mission president, our mission did not have a temple, so our missionaries were not able to attend the temple during their missions. At first I did not think to encourage them to keep a current temple recommend. Then in late 1994 President Howard W. Hunter (1907–95) counseled adult members of the Church to have a current temple recommend—even if they did not live near a temple. During the next interviews with our missionaries, I taught this principle and conducted a temple recommend interview for each of our missionaries. What a blessing that was for our mission and our missionaries!