Gospel Story Finder

I liked the story in the April 1977 Friend called “A Better Way,” and I would like to tell about the missionary experience our family had.
When I was eight years old, we moved to Fountain Valley, California. Since we had some friends who were Mormons, Mom and Dad wanted to learn about the gospel. So when the missionaries knocked on our door, Mom asked them to come back that night when Dad was home. They did. The feeling was so good that evening that we asked the missionaries to return.
Later on Mom, Dad, and I were baptized, and a few weeks later my little sisters were blessed. Then my older sister was baptized. A year later my dad died of cancer. About a year after his death our family was sealed together in the temple.
I am really thankful that we have the gospel in our home.

For more than twenty years, Sister Cécile Pelous, a member of the Cergy-Pontoise Branch, Paris France Stake, has worked for the finest fashion houses in Paris—Dior, Cardin, and Ricci. She designs and makes dresses for the wealthiest women in the world.
But since 1986, this graceful, dynamic women has used her glamorous career as a means to do quite a different work. She spends three months every year serving the destitute of India. Working in the impoverished suburbs of Calcutta and in the orphanages of Bengal, she dedicates all of her savings, along with donations from French friends, to the relief of poor children—with the assistance of local people of goodwill.
Cécile discovered The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1974 when she was visiting the United States on a tour. Her group happened to stop at Temple Square and attend a performance by the Tabernacle Choir. “It was an intense emotional experience,” she says. Later, she told her fellow travelers that listening to the Choir was the part of the tour that she liked best.
Months later, missionaries knocked on her door back in France. Cécile was not interested until one of them said he was from Salt Lake City. Remembering her experience there, Cécile asked the missionary if he represented “the church with the choir.” When he said yes, she let them in and listened to their message. She was baptized a few months later—in 1975.
Eleven years later, in July 1986, Cécile took her first trip to India. “I went to Calcutta during vacation, with the idea of helping my neighbor,” she says. “I took with me my first-aid certificate, my goodwill, and my suitcases packed with medicines.” She had read about and had heard lectures describing conditions in India. “I knew there was plenty to do,” she says.
The work she found to do was mostly among the elderly, babies, and handicapped children of Calcutta. “I found opportunities to get busy and stretch myself. Dirty clothes and sheets had to be boiled and washed, meals prepared, patients fed in night shelters and almshouses, and medical care given,” she says. “The dying had to be washed, and warmth and affection had to be given them to help them leave this world. There were babies to change and feed who were so weak that you would wish you could force your own health into their bodies.” She worked first with Mother Theresa’s Sisters of Mercy and then with other groups.
“I am not a heroine,” Cécile says. “My experience in India is one of love and friendship.”
During that first trip to India, Cécile also discovered a home for one hundred elderly people, most of them bedridden. “There were only two Catholic missionaries to cater to the needs of all, and one of them had been sick for three days. When another volunteer and I arrived, we immediately rolled up our sleeves and went to work,” she says. “Sister Thérésina, one of the missionaries, kissed me and said, ‘The Lord has sent you!’ and I believed her.”

Some time ago our friends asked if their son, John, and his girlfriend could stay at our place for a weeklong visit. John is less active, and his girlfriend is not a member of the Church. We let her have our son’s room and gave John a couch in the living room.
Before they arrived, we prayed to Heavenly Father, asking how we should present ourselves to them—as teachers, parents, or simply friends? The answer came that we needed to follow the promptings of the Spirit and help them spiritually.
Every evening my husband, son, and I sit down to study the scriptures. On the first evening with our guests, we felt that we should not invite them to study with us. But the next evening before scripture study, John shyly knocked on our door and said, “Mary is afraid to ask, but she would like to know if we can join you.”
We swung open the door, invited them in, and began studying the Book of Mormon together. Mary had never read scriptures before and did not know whether she believed in God. She admitted that when she came to our home, she had been afraid we might make her take part in something religious she did not understand.
To make Mary feel comfortable, my husband told her about the plan of salvation, the Savior Jesus Christ, Joseph Smith’s First Vision, and the Book of Mormon. She talked with us until midnight.
The next day, John and Mary joined us for a discussion with the missionaries. I will never forget the spirit that filled the room. After a simple discussion, we talked about the nature of our Heavenly Father. Then Mary asked why God allows suffering if He loves us, a question I had pondered for a long time.
Several days earlier I had received a letter from a friend who had miscarried her third child, so Mary’s question touched my heart. I testified that times of happiness and joy occasionally cannot teach us as deeply and eternally as times of personal tragedy. I told Mary that grief can temper us just as fire tempers iron. If we remain true to God while passing through trials, our faith will grow.
It was an unforgettable discussion. Afterward we sat silently while the Spirit testified of our Heavenly Father’s love. When Mary looked up, her eyes were bright and full of tears.
I do not know what will happen in the coming years, but I know for certain that the understanding I saw in Mary’s eyes that day will help her throughout her life and may help lead her to her Heavenly Father.

Perhaps I could relate an experience that helped me. January 1, 2012, was Fast Sunday for the missionaries in the Missionary Training Center in Provo, and as a branch president, I fasted with them. Rather than stay up on New Year's Eve, I went to bed at 10:00 p.m. (At my age, one often looks for reasons to go to bed at 10:00 on New Year's Eve.) I awakened early on New Year's Day, hoping that in addition to enjoying the fast, I would be inspired in the preparation of this devotional address. I was determined that I would not bow down my head as a bulrush that I would approach the missionaries with good cheer. I succeeded in that, and it was a beautiful Sabbath.

During the day, I read from President Monson's book, Pathways to Perfection, in addition to many of his conference talks. I was hoping to strengthen my testimony of his divine appointment. "It is not alone sufficient for us as Latter-day Saints to follow our leaders and to accept their counsel, but we have the greater obligation to gain for ourselves the unshakable testimony of the divine appointment of these men and the witness that what they have told us is the will of our Heavenly Father."[6]

Fasting and reading from President Monson's addresses helped me to become even more convinced of the prophet's divine appointment. However, I was still unsure what I should say in this address. I was beginning to be concerned thinking about thousands of you and taking 25 minutes of your time. Individually, it would be bad enough, but collectively, I determined that it would be approximately 400 hours for every 1,000 people in attendance.

That evening, we received a call from my brother-in-law in another state regarding a woman in his ward who was concerned about her son who lived in Provo. He had a debilitating mental condition and she was very worried that he was not eating. She had his address but wanted to get in touch with the bishop. My brother-in-law asked me to get the bishop's address and I agreed. The next day was a legal holiday, but I went into my office early to work on this talk. I felt I was finally making some progress when Sister Cameron called and reminded me that I needed to find the young man's bishop. I drove to the address I had been given, but the house was empty. I had a telephone number, and I called asking if I could speak to the young man. I was told he was not home. I asked if I could leave a message and the person said something strange: "He can hear you." I said who I was and that I had a message from his mother. He gave me another address and said I could stop by.

I drove to the new location and rang the doorbell. A young man not fully dressed answered the door. While I spoke to him, he alternated between being coherent and incoherent. He would periodically hit his head violently with his hand as he spoke. I asked if he had eaten and he said no; he couldn't remember how to open a can of soup. I asked if I could leave a blessing in his home and then get him some lunch. He agreed. I left and got some soup, a sandwich, and a fruit cup and returned to his home. He seemed to have calmed down. I was able to find out the ward he lived in and the name of the bishop so that his mother could contact him.

When I went back to preparing this talk, I read Isaiah 58:7-8 with new eyes: "Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? when thou seest the naked, that thou cover him; and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh? Then shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thine health shall spring forth speedily: and thy righteousness shall go before thee; the glory of the Lord shall be thy reward."

It was then that I gained a new understanding of Isaiah and the true law of the fast. I learned there is a prerequisite to gaining inspiration and that is "to bring bread to the hungry and bring the poor that are cast out into thy house, and thou seest the naked and cover him." I had been in a fog with regard to what to say to you dear brothers and sisters, and then I felt the "light break forth as the morning."

What if I had decided not to visit this young man and had tried to justify my failure by saying. "I'm working on a talk for several thousand BYU-Idaho students and I'm just getting into it. I can't break up my day and look for someone in distress that I don't know." What if I had just called back and told my brother-in-law, "I'm sorry but the house was vacant at the address I had been given."

So what was the light that broke forth as the morning? I learned that fasting and serving others is a prerequisite to obtaining help from heaven.

When I first started reading the Book of Mormon, the story about Lehi’s vision of the tree of life spoke to my heart (see 1 Nephi 8; 11). I could relate because I also wanted my whole family and everyone I love to be able to taste the fruit of the tree and feel the love of God in their lives.
For that reason, I prepared myself to serve a full-time mission and was assigned to labor in the Guatemala City Guatemala Mission.
During my mission, I got to see so many people change for the better because of the gospel. And it filled my heart with joy every day. But every time my companion and I taught families, I was reminded of my own family, especially my mother, who was not a member of the Church. Every preparation day, I tried to encourage her through my emails to meet with the missionaries. I prayed that Heavenly Father would prepare her heart to receive the gospel.
I was still on my mission when the inspired change occurred regarding missionaries’ communication with their families.1 When I first heard the news, the Spirit let me know that this was an opportunity to invite my mother to learn more about the gospel. I felt a lot of joy about that change and that feeling. During the week, I asked the Lord to help me know what He would have me share with her.
When preparation day arrived and I saw my mother through my computer screen, I had a strong impression that we should say a prayer. I expressed that feeling to her, and she agreed. During the video call, I explained to her the main message I was trying to share as a missionary: that the gospel of Jesus Christ had been restored. I testified with all my heart that I knew it was true. I also invited her to pray and ask God about these things to know for herself. We finished our conversation with a prayer that she offered. We both felt the Spirit so strong that it pierced our hearts. After the call, I sent a referral to the missionaries in her area.
I waited anxiously for the next week to hear from her again. Just as we had done the first time, we started our video chat with a prayer, and then I listened to the Spirit to know what to share with her. We did this for weeks. Eventually, to my surprise, she started to meet with the missionaries. And I noticed a new glow in her eyes.
When I returned home, I went with my mother to her lessons with the missionaries. In one of those lessons, she, with a smile on her face, expressed her desire to make covenants with the Lord. I was shocked to hear how she had received the answer that the gospel was true! Again, the Spirit filled the room and testified to our hearts that we were witnessing truth.
And so, just a few weeks after returning home, I witnessed one of the greatest miracles of my mission: my mother entered the waters of baptism and made a covenant with Heavenly Father.
Tears ran down my face when I saw her go down into the water. When I hugged her afterward, we were both feeling a lot of emotions, but mostly we felt God’s love for us. She looked me in the eyes and said, “I felt like God hugged me and welcomed me. I know that He was waiting for me.”
Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught that sometimes missionary work can be done when you “understand that it’s not your job to convert people. That is the role of the Holy Ghost. Your role is to share what is in your heart and live consistent with your beliefs. …
“Follow this path, and God will work miracles through you to bless His precious children.”2
As I heard my mother’s words, my testimony was further strengthened, and I knew then with all my heart that Heavenly Father hears our prayers and can help us share the fruit of the tree with others—especially our own family.

Tim’s foot hurt. His cast felt hot and itchy, and he was tired of just lying on the couch.
“Mom,” Tim called and waited.
“Mom,” he called again, a little louder. She must be upstairs with the baby, he decided. He looked over the stack of movies she had borrowed from the library. He’d already watched them all—twice. He looked out the window. In the backyard, little Heidi climbed up on her plastic slide while David slid down. Sun lit their hair, and he could hear them laughing. “It’s not fair,” Tim grumbled to no one in particular. He wished his foot wouldn’t ache anymore.
He heard a rumble approaching the house, followed by a loud squeal. The school bus. Soon the front door creaked open, and he heard the thud of backpacks and instrument cases hitting the floor. Brian and Eric are home, he told himself. He listened to their footsteps heading toward the kitchen.
“Hey, Tim,” Brian’s voice said.
Tim couldn’t see him over the back of the couch. “Hi,” he answered quietly.
“Feeling any better?” Brian’s head popped into view.
Tim frowned up at him. “No. And I’m bored.”
“Do you want a snack?” Eric called from the kitchen. “There are lots of frozen treats in here.”
“No thanks.”
“I’ll have a grape one,” Brian said.
Tim heard a box snap open and wrappers crunch as Eric fished one out.
“Catch.”
Tim flinched when the frozen treat hurtled over the couch and bashed against his cast. “Ouch!” he yelled.
Brian grabbed the treat.
“Oops, sorry,” Eric called, taking his treat outside.
“So, have you worked on your castle yet?” Brian asked.
Tim shook his head.
“Why not?”
“It’s downstairs.” Tim had crutches, but he wasn’t supposed to use them yet. His bedroom—and everything else downstairs—had been pretty much off-limits since his foot surgery last week.
“Do you want me to get the stuff for you?”
Tim shrugged. The castle was to be made out of tiny plastic blocks of many shapes and colors. Even though the set was brand-new, it would take him hours to find all the pieces he’d need—especially because he wasn’t supposed to even sit up for very long.
“I can help you put it together,” Brian offered. “I don’t have that much homework to do.”
Tim smiled. “Really?”
“Sure. We can build it on this table right by the couch. I’ll hand you the pieces, and you figure out how they fit.”
“OK.”
Brian threw his empty stick into the trash and tromped down the stairs. Tim listened to hear his steps coming back up.
“Here it is.” Brian handed the box to Tim.
“Thanks.” Tim slid his finger between layers of cardboard and opened the box. Inside, the pieces glittered in plastic bags. He handed Brian some colorful pages with pictures and directions.
“Awesome,” Brian said. He moved the box to the table and began sorting blocks. “Here’s one you’ll need for the foundation,” he said, holding it out for Tim.
By the time Dad got home, the castle was almost finished.
“Tim, this looks great!” Dad exclaimed.
“Brian helped a lot,” Tim said.
“Wow, Brian, that was nice of you!” Dad looked at Tim again. “And how’s your foot?”
“Lots better,” Tim said. “I even forgot it hurt.”
Dad patted Brian on the back. “You should be a doctor, Son.”
Brian grinned down at the last few blocks. “We’ll call it the castle cure,” he said.

I can remember as if it were yesterday the first time that I attended general conference. I was just a young boy, and my wonderful parents brought me to the Tabernacle so that I could have a special, spiritual experience early in my life. We sat in the balcony here at the left of the podium, where I could look down directly at the General Authorities.
It was a great thrill for me to see President Heber J. Grant for the first time. I particularly remember how President Grant joined in the congregational singing with such fervor and how uncomfortable the hard, wooden benches seemed to me even at that young age. I remember looking at the upholstered, individual seats occupied by the Tabernacle Choir and deciding that someday I would sing in the Choir and have a comfortable, reserved seat for conference. Well, somehow the lines of communication got mixed up. This was not what I had in mind at all.
I have been so humbled by this unexpected calling, and I do not have the vocabulary to express how I felt when President Thomas S. Monson issued my call. Certainly the words of Nephi took on a significance for me that I had never before felt:
“I, Nephi, said unto my father: I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them” (1 Ne. 3:7).
I feel that scripture has great significance for everyone in the Church, no matter what his calling might be. Experience has taught me that the Lord does prepare the way if we are diligent and faithful in doing our part.
The wisdom of Elder Russell M. Nelson has also been helpful, for he taught that we are not called to positions of leadership for what we are but for what we may become. I have a lot of “becoming” to do to be able to serve the Lord as he would have me do.
I pledged to the Lord the day that I was sustained that I would serve him with all my heart, might, mind, and strength; I reaffirm this now to the First Presidency, my Brethren, and all of you. Whatever is needed in this sacred service, I will be willing to do. But I need your faith and prayers, and I hope that I may always be worthy of them.
I want to publicly express my love and heartfelt gratitude to my wonderful wife, the mother of our nine children, who has been at my side for almost forty-five years. She has been such a source of strength and has always sustained me in my Church callings, even though her load has been very heavy with her own callings and the responsibility of motherhood and the home.
I feel great appreciation for the wholehearted support which I have always had from my parents and extended family. To my own dear children, their wives and husbands, and our twenty-seven (as of 8:25 this morning) beautiful grandchildren, I express my love and appreciation for their tremendous support, for their faith and prayers in our behalf, and for all the joy and happiness that they have brought into our lives.
I am grateful for my assignment in the Brazil Area Presidency with Elder Gibbons and Elder Camargo and the opportunity to serve once again with the warm, wonderful people of Brazil. I have been especially blessed in being involved in various ways in the growth of the Church there over the last forty-eight years and have seen that growth go from fewer than 200 members in 1940 to more than 250,000 members today.
As we attend the various stake conferences, it is thrilling to meet the young leaders whom the Lord has raised up—men such as President Eraldo dos Santos. He embraced the gospel as a young boy of seventeen. When he elected to accept a mission call, he was disowned by his family and put out on the street with his meager belongings. He served faithfully, however, and later was led to a beautiful young convert girl. They were sealed in the temple and are rearing their family under the covenant. Still under thirty years of age, he is successful in his business and is a great leader in the stake. How the Lord blesses the faithful members of the Church!
Sister Sorensen and I recently had the opportunity to tour the new Fortaleza Mission. It took us back to our own missionary experiences. During his presidency, a mission president receives hundreds of weekly letters from his missionaries concerning many different subjects. Most of those I received were very spiritual, expressing the missionary’s gratitude for the opportunity to serve the Lord and his testimony of the importance and truthfulness of the work. I have saved most of them. They are precious to me. One touched my heart profoundly. Elder Costa, a native Brazilian missionary, wrote in his last letter to me before we left the mission field:
“President, perhaps with the passing of time, I will forget your appearance or how you walked or things like that, but your love for the gospel and your testimony I will never forget.”
If I am to be remembered at all by the membership of the Church, I hope it will be in this manner, for I do have a great love for the gospel and for all the members of the Church everywhere. I do not feel at ease sitting in these red, upholstered chairs, but I have a sincere, burning testimony of this work. May the Lord bless me that I may touch the lives of those he loves throughout the Church. May I be guided and directed by him always, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

One day in November 1998, I heard that my younger brother, Ryan, had been baptized in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. This news surprised me because he never wanted to come with me to the churches I attended at that time. A few weeks after his baptism, he died of lung cancer, which was a heavy blow for the family. I didn’t have the chance to ask him what was so interesting about his church, but because I had questions about why he joined, I agreed to receive the missionaries in my home. This was the turning point in my life.
I faithfully attended the missionary lessons and asked many questions. I was baptized on Feb. 14, 1999, and felt like I had come home. I accepted all the callings that my Heavenly Father wanted to give me and grew in faith, strengthening my testimony.

But let me digress a bit with an anecdote. At general conference, I had several relatives come from Sweden and Denmark to attend conference sessions. One of them was a precocious 10-year-old girl from Copenhagen named Emma Krylborn. Her Swedish is perfect; her English is perfect; and I’m told her Danish is perfect. She is only 10. She is my first cousin thrice removed.

About two months before conference, she started to pray for Lucifer that he would stop being as naughty as he was. Her father, Marcus, talked to her and suggested that that might not be an appropriate thing to do. So she stopped praying for Lucifer.

Then, in the Sunday morning session of general conference, President Dallin H. Oaks spoke about praying for our enemies. Emma elbowed Marcus in the side and said, “See! We’re supposed to pray for him!”

I reported this to President Oaks, and I said, “President Oaks, you need to give me an answer. Are we supposed to pray for Lucifer?”

He laughed through my whole recitation of the episode and then said, “Well, when you come up with an answer, let me know.”

Emma emailed me and said that she is going to continue praying for him because President Oaks said it was okay for her to do so. Anyway . . .

I chose another hero in that little branch of the Church. He was a United States Marine who came to our meetings wearing his green marine uniform. It was wartime, so that alone made him my hero. He had been sent to Princeton University by the marines to further his education. But far more than admiring his military uniform, I watched him play in Palmer Stadium as captain of the Princeton University football team. I saw him play on the university basketball team and also watched him play as the star catcher on their baseball team.
But even more, he came to my home during the week to show me how to shoot a basketball with both my left and my right hand. He told me that I would need that skill because I would someday play basketball on good teams. I did not realize it then, but for years he was, for me, a model of a true priesthood man.
The same is true for the marine who was my childhood hero. He never spoke to me of his priesthood service or of his accomplishments. He just gave service. I learned about his faithfulness from others. If he even saw the characteristics in himself that I admired, I could not tell.

I was baptized in 2012 and attended a branch in the Ipoméia Brazil District. Since 2014, I have been really engaged in family history. It started with the invitation from Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles at RootsTech to do baptisms for my own family names. I felt really committed to do family history, knowing that if I “knocked,” it would be “opened” (see Matthew 7:7).
Now I have many more generations, pictures, documents, and, most important, more family stories, which is awesome. Having this information, I wrote a book with pictures and dates from my family history. This project helped me contact my nonmember family members and gave me the opportunity to share my testimony that families can be eternal.
This work has helped me stand in holy places, stay active in the Church, and accept the calling to serve the Lord on a mission.
I have a testimony that the work of salvation done by this Church on both sides of the veil is true and inspired by our Heavenly Father. Before my mission, I had the opportunity to do baptisms for my ancestors, and now as a missionary I have the opportunity to baptize people who are alive and want to change their lives forever.
Elder Claudio Klaus Jr., Arizona Mesa Mission

As one of 15 prophets, seers, and revelators sustained yesterday by our worldwide Church, I want to share with you one of my experiences sustaining the prophet and embracing his words. It was for me much like the prophet Jacob, who recounted, “I had heard the voice of the Lord speaking unto me in very word.”

Last October my wife, Melanie, and I were in Bangkok, Thailand, as I was preparing to dedicate what would be the Church’s 185th temple. For me, the assignment was both surreal and humbling. This was the first temple on the Southeast Asia peninsula. It was masterfully designed—a six-story, nine-spired structure, “fitly framed” to be a house of the Lord. For months I had contemplated the dedication. What had settled in my soul and mind was that the country and the temple had been cradled in the arms of prophets and apostles. President Thomas S. Monson had announced the temple and President Nelson the dedication.

I had prepared the dedicatory prayer months earlier. Those sacred words had been translated into 12 languages. We were ready. Or so I thought.

The night before the dedication, I was awakened from my sleep with an unsettled, urgent feeling about the dedicatory prayer. I tried to set aside the prompting, thinking the prayer was in place. But the Spirit would not leave me alone. I sensed certain words were missing, and by divine design they came to me in revelation, and I inserted these words in the prayer near the end: “May we think celestial, letting Thy Spirit prevail in our lives, and strive to be peacemakers always.” The Lord was reminding me to heed the words of our living prophet: “Think celestial,” “let the Spirit prevail,” “strive to be peacemakers.” Words of the prophet matter to the Lord and to us.

On the bus to work one morning, I took a window seat. Before long I became aware of a little bee trying to get itself out of a fix. It was trapped between the two glass panels of the window, and no matter how hard it tried, it couldn’t find its way out. Encased in a transparent prison, it could see freedom but couldn’t find an escape route. Perhaps frightened, it beat its wings furiously and desperately threw itself against the glass.
I’ve always been a person who didn’t like to see anyone or anything hurt. So after observing the bee for some time, I began to try to get it out of its difficulty. But lacking trust and understanding of my desire to help, it didn’t take advantage of the assistance I offered. In fact, all it did was continue to throw itself against the window. Finally I began to get a bit irritated.
Before I got to my stop and after the poor little bee had suffered much, it managed to get out of its predicament. From it I learned that we also can overcome trials—suffering less if we turn to and trust in Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, to whom all adversity is transparent.

When I was younger, I had trouble falling asleep each night. It was frustrating to be so tired and still not be able to rest.
I talked to my parents about my struggle, and they suggested I switch out my pillows, move my head to the other side of the bed, and not be near any electronic devices before bedtime. But even after following their advice, I still couldn’t sleep!
Then my dad gave me one more suggestion that changed everything. He said, “When you say your nighttime prayers, just talk to Heavenly Father.”
So night after night, I began talking to Heavenly Father about my day. I would start with when I woke up and talk about everything that happened until right when I was in my bed. I told Him about people I saw, blessings I was grateful for, how pretty it was outside, and things that made me feel happy. I also told Him about things that were sad, like if I hurt my leg or made a mistake.
I wasn’t able to fall asleep right away, but I noticed that my relationship with my Heavenly Father was strengthening. He listened to me. He understood my high points and my low ones. He helped me feel calm enough to eventually fall asleep each night.
I am so grateful I could talk to Heavenly Father during those sleepless nights. I know He loves me and helps me, even with small things like helping me sleep.
Alyssa B., 19, Virginia, USA

Courage counts. This truth came to me in a most vivid and dramatic manner many years ago. I was serving as a bishop at the time. The general session of our stake conference was being held in the Assembly Hall on Temple Square in Salt Lake City. Our stake presidency was to be reorganized. The Aaronic Priesthood, including members of bishoprics, were providing the music for the conference. As we concluded singing our first selection, President Joseph Fielding Smith, our conference visitor, stepped to the pulpit and read for sustaining approval the names of the new stake presidency. He then mentioned that Percy Fetzer, who became our new stake president, and John Burt, who became the first counselor—each of whom had been counselors in the previous presidency—had been made aware of their new callings before the conference began. However, he indicated that I, who had been called to be second counselor in the new presidency, had no previous knowledge of the calling and was hearing of it for the first time as my name was read for sustaining vote. He then announced, “If Brother Monson is willing to respond to this call, we will be pleased to hear from him now.”
As I stood at the pulpit and gazed out on that sea of faces, I remembered the song we had just sung. It pertained to the Word of Wisdom and was titled “Have Courage, My Boy, to Say No.” That day I selected as my acceptance theme “Have Courage, My Boy, to Say Yes.” The call for courage comes constantly to each of us—the courage to stand firm for our convictions, the courage to fulfill our responsibilities, the courage to honor our priesthood.

From a young age, Elder Richard G. Scott had a desire to do what was right, even when faced with peer pressure. One summer during high school, he worked on an oyster boat off Long Island, New York, USA. His coworkers tried to get him to do things he knew were wrong. Because he consistently said no, he gained their respect. One night when one of them fell overboard, Richard was the only one who could save his crewmate—because he hadn’t gone partying like the others. He said, “Finally, when they understood I would not abandon my principles, we became friends. Then privately, one by one, they asked for help.”1

Kimberly Martino, 13, along with her parents, four sisters, and her brother, accepted the challenge given them and the other members of the Lewisville Texas Stake to read the Book of Mormon as a family.
“I thought it was neat when we finally finished,” Kimberly said. “We made a goal and we reached it. And at a stake fireside I was able to tell the story about how Nephi’s bow broke when he went into the wilderness to hunt.”
Kimberly’s stake president, President Gordon T. Watts, came up with the idea. “I called it the ‘100-Day Book of Mormon Program.’ It was the end of May, and I challenged everyone to read the Book of Mormon by September 1st.” Kimberly and her family, along with more than 100 members of the stake, received certificates of completion.

Ivan speaks with great conviction of an experience he had as an 11-year-old. “I had just joined the Church. We were at the chapel when all the lights went out. Someone whispered to me, ‘Why don’t you say a prayer, Ivan?’ I knelt down and said, ‘Heavenly Father, please let the lights come back on so we can continue.’ And the lights came back on.
“Children have incredible faith. Now I’m trying to have that same childlike faith. My life went dark. But I have prayed and believed, and the lights are back on.”

One thing I love to do is roller skate. I try to learn new moves so I can improve my talent. When I think of how I can be a better person, I try to do what Christ would do. I feel that responsibility a lot because I am a deacons quorum president, so I strive to always make good choices.
Recently I got to plan an activity for my quorum. It was really fun and helped me want to serve others like my leaders have served and helped me.
Miguel H., 12, Portugal

A lot of my friends and classmates who are not members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints would often ask me about the Church. After a while, I got tired of answering the same questions over and over, so I came up with a solution.
I love to make internet videos to entertain people. I do music videos, informational videos, and parodies. One day when I was thinking about what I would do for my next video, I decided to make a video that answered questions about the Church.
I grabbed my camera. Then, without writing down what I was going to say but remembering important scriptures I wanted to mention, I made the video. I had no idea what would happen. I just felt prompted to make the video. “And I was led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do” (1 Nephi 4:6).
Without worrying how my friends, classmates, and relatives—members of the Church or not—might respond, I uploaded it.
A few weeks after uploading the video, I started receiving feedback on my social media accounts. People I didn’t even know began commenting and thanking me for my video. Because of my video, one person even began taking the missionary discussions. Later, that person decided to get baptized.
Since I made the video, people I know who are not members of the Church seem to like me just the same—maybe even more. Several of them have even quit criticizing the Church. Others have stopped asking the same questions about the Church because now they have answers.