Gospel Story Finder

There are those who are ready now, but there are not enough. I know of one lovely woman who is ready. She had been injured in the accident which took her husband’s life, leaving her a widow for the second time in her young life. She had not fully recovered from the mishap and had a family of young children to raise. Yet she paid tithing on the insurance settlement for her husband’s death. The clerk said to the bishop, “Sister So-and-so needs this money much more than the Church does. Don’t you think we should return it?”

The bishop asked me. I answered his question with a question: “What does Sister So-and-so need more than the blessings that come from paying tithing?” Imagine how the Lord will open the windows of heaven for this young mother because of her faith and devotion.

I recently learned another significant lesson from my father about his love for me. A few weeks ago the state 3-A basketball championship was being played on a Saturday night in Ogden. I was on Provo High’s team, which was to play Mountain View High School for the championship. After the first quarter the team met for a huddle. As I got up off the nice soft chair I had become accustomed to, my eye caught sight of my mom and dad sitting on the front row. This might seem insignificant to you, but I was thrilled because in Provo that same night was one of the most important events of the year. It wasn’t my father’s inauguration or the annual commencement exercises. It was the BYU-University of Utah basketball game. But Dad left that game, as well as several General Authorities and other dignitaries he was hosting, to come to my game. That demonstration of love meant so much to me, not because my game was more important, but because I was more important. Is it any wonder I want to show that love in return? We do have a bond, not just as father to son—but friend to friend as well.

Natanael held Mom’s hand tightly as they walked into the Primary room. Today was Natanael’s second week in the Sunbeam class. His stomach felt fluttery, and with each step, he walked a little more slowly.
Last week, Primary had been kind of confusing. During singing time, Mia kept standing up and turning around in circles. Natanael was tired of sitting, so he stood up too. But then his teacher asked him to sit back down. During sharing time, some of the older children talked and laughed. Sometimes it was too noisy to hear what Sister Miranda, the Primary president, was saying. When his friend Cara started crying, it made Natanael feel like crying too.
As he got closer to the front row, Natanael didn’t want to let go of Mom’s hand. He was worried that Primary would be confusing this week too. Then he saw his teacher.
“Hi, Natanael,” Sister Tejada said. “I’m glad to see you.” Sister Tejada patted the seat next to her.
Natanael liked his teacher’s friendly smile. He let go of Mom’s hand and sat down by Sister Tejada.
“I’ll be back to pick you up after class,” Mom said. “Remember to be reverent.”
Natanael wasn’t sure he knew how.
After the opening prayer, Sister Miranda stood up. “Today we have a special visitor,” she said.
Suddenly, a puppet appeared from behind a table next to Sister Miranda. The puppet wiggled, waved his arms, and said, “Is it time to go yet? I need a drink!”
Some of the children giggled.
“This is Arlo’s first time in Primary,” Sister Miranda said, “and he doesn’t know how to be reverent. But before he can be reverent, he needs to learn good Primary manners.”
Natanael was surprised. At dinner Mom sometimes reminded him to put his napkin on his lap. That was good manners. And Dad always asked everyone to thank Mom for the nice meal before they started clearing off the table. That was good manners too. But what were Primary manners?
Arlo leaned backward over the front of the table. “Hey, everybody looks funny upside down!” he said.
“Good manners are rules that show we respect other people,” Sister Miranda explained. “Arlo doesn’t know the rules for good Primary manners. Do you think we could teach him?” she asked.
Sister Miranda went to the chalkboard and drew an arm. “What should Arlo do with his arms?” she asked.
“Fold them!” Mia called out.
“That’s right,” Sister Miranda said.
Arlo sat up. He folded his arms and raised them over his head. “Oh, you mean like this?” he asked.
Natanael knew that wasn’t right.
Sister Miranda asked if everyone in Primary could show Arlo how to fold his arms.
Natanael quickly folded his arms. Arlo folded his arms too.
On the chalkboard, next to the drawing of the arm, Sister Miranda wrote, “Fold our arms.”
As Sister Miranda drew more pictures, the children taught Arlo the rules for good Primary manners. Natanael was glad that he knew most of them already.
Now Arlo wasn’t wiggling or waving his arms or calling out. His legs were still, and his arms were folded. The children were listening quietly too. Primary didn’t seem noisy and confusing anymore. Natanael felt calm and happy. It wouldn’t be too hard to be reverent in Primary. He already knew how.

“I witness the complete and absolute truth of the Savior’s incomparable atoning sacrifice and of His glorious Resurrection. As we focus our lives on this thought, I promise we will feel His hope, His peace, and His love.
“When we unexpectedly lose someone we love, the sadness and grief can be overwhelming.
“Late last year, the life of radiant Brigham Young University freshman Anna Peterson ended suddenly following a tragic sledding accident. Anna was a humble, loving, and kind disciple of Jesus Christ. She sought ways to help others feel God’s love. In fact, she had just finished her application to become a full-time missionary.
“Though many lost a friend when Anna passed, her parents, John and Julie, lost a beautiful light, who they had cared for, prayed over, and loved for 18 years. The death of a daughter is enough to engulf anyone in grief. However, despite the deep sorrow they feel, John and Julie have chosen to lean on the Lord Jesus Christ.
“I asked John—who served as a missionary with me when I presided over the France Bordeaux Mission—and Julie to share with me their thoughts as they continue to practice faith in Jesus Christ in the face of this tragedy. This is what they shared with me:
“John: ‘Anna’s sudden and tragic death tore what feels like a massive wound in my chest. But there is a balm in Gilead, and as we have leaned into gratitude for both the Savior’s Atonement and the wonderful, amazing times we had in Anna’s 18 years, the tender mercies fill us to overflowing. We have strength to press on.’
“Julie: ‘Shortly after Anna’s accident, I was prompted to make the theme of our efforts ‘Turn to the Light, Our Savior.’ As we share with each other these opportunities to choose light rather than choosing darkness to cope, we strengthen each other, and the Lord carries us in our grief. I/We choose to trust the Lord.’
“I sincerely admire John and Julie’s faith in Jesus Christ. They are a wonderful example to me. During this Easter season, I testify that Jesus Christ broke the bands of death, allowing all to live beyond the grave, and, most importantly, He promises each of us that as we believe in and follow Him, we can live with Him forever—yes, forever!”

One such learning experience stands out. As an Area Seventy, I had been assigned to preside at a stake conference in New Zealand. Only a few months before, President Thomas S. Monson had delivered a powerful address to all the Seventies of the world. His address centered on rescuing those who had slipped away from the ordinances of the gospel.

As a result of President Monson’s address and the consequent challenge he gave us, I felt an urgency to visit and invite those not fully involved in the gospel to return to the covenants and ordinances of salvation. I invited stake presidents to take me with them during stake conference weekends to visit less-active members. Those visits were always wonderful.

One Saturday during a particular stake conference weekend, the stake president and I visited several families. The husband and wife of one of these families had been married for about 10 years and had been sealed in the temple but were now less active. They welcomed us warmly, and we had a spiritual visit. As the visit was ending, I felt prompted to ask the husband if he would like a blessing and then to ask him to give his wife a blessing.

This was an unusual prompting. I had been taught that as a guest in another’s home, I should take a subordinate role and that the head of the home should be the one who decides what is done. This brother, however, was grateful for the offer of a blessing, and he was visibly moved after the stake president and I had finished.

As he arose, however, he asked whether one of us would bless his wife. He told us that despite being married 10 years, he had never given her a blessing and was uncomfortable doing so.

“We will help you,” I said, encouraging him.

Illustrations by Brian Call

After we had explained how to give a blessing and helped him rehearse what to say at the beginning and at the end, he gave his wife a wonderful blessing. When he finished, we all had moist eyes, and he and his wife accepted our invitation to return to the gospel.

As a result of this tender experience, the stake president felt inspired during his address to stake members the next day to challenge priesthood holders to return home after stake conference and to give blessings to family members.

Hans let his light shine brightly, even through hard times.
When he was six years old, he fell and broke his arm. That accident became a great blessing. His mom was planning to move to the United States and leave Hans in Ecuador with her sister for a time. “But when he broke his arm,” she says, “I realized Heavenly Father was telling me not to leave my son. If I did, he wouldn’t be able to go to church.”
That’s when Hans’s mother, Antonia Yolanda Nieto, was baptized. Since that time, her testimony has continued to grow and she has received her endowment in the Guayaquil Ecuador Temple. Hans was the missionary who brought his mother to the light of the gospel.

Giovanni closed the front door softly so that he wouldn’t wake his family. Though early in the morning, it was already warm in Sicily, the large island at the “toe” of the Italy “boot.” The air felt heavy and moist like a damp blanket. The street was quiet except for the sound of the boy’s footsteps as thoughts of last night’s family home evening swirled in his head.
Mama had read from her new Book of Mormon that was already showing signs of wear, “‘Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat in my house; and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of Hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing that there shall not be room enough to receive it.’”* She’d stopped reading and stared blankly at the page.
Giovanni had looked down at his hands and said quietly, “Ever since we were baptized and started paying tithing, it seems like we’ve just gotten more problems.” His mother turned toward him, a look of surprise in her eyes, but he could not keep the words inside any longer. “Paying tithing didn’t keep Papa from losing his job, and it hasn’t given us the money we need. What good is paying tithing?”
The room was silent for a long time. Finally Papa spoke. “Giovanni, what if every time you obeyed a commandment, someone gave you a reward?”
“It would be easy to choose the right.”
“Too easy,” Papa added.
“But Heavenly Father wants us to choose the right so we can live with Him again.”
“Yes, He does,” Papa said. “But we must want to live with Him again, too—enough to choose the right even if we aren’t rewarded right away. And enough to avoid evil, even if it seems profitable. Heavenly Father won’t solve all our problems for us. But He will help us as we work to solve them.”
A dog barked from behind a wood fence, startling Giovanni as he walked, interrupting his thoughts. “I wish this problem would have been solved before I had to spend my summer looking for work,” he muttered to himself.
Jobs were scarce, especially for a boy. Everyone he asked had answered the same: “No.” Only one person would hire him—Tomaso. He had a reputation for never smiling—and for never keeping a worker more than one day.
Giovanni heard the bell tower’s deep bong. It was six o’clock, and Tomaso had been very clear that he was to arrive by six o’clock. Giovanni ran the last block to the Mercato Aperto (open air market). He found Tomaso already setting up under the dusty canvas canopy. He was a short, wiry man, though what he lacked in height, he made up for in his hands. Giovanni had never seen bigger hands. Tomaso easily hefted two full crates onto the rickety table.
“Finish these,” he said, motioning with his head.
Giovanni unloaded the crate of sanguinelle (blood oranges). They looked like any other orange on the outside, but on the inside, the fruit was a beautiful ruby red. Giovanni took a deep breath. The sweet, tangy odor mingled with the aroma of pollo allo spiedo (roast chickens) across the street and the pungent smell of olives floating in vinegar in the booth next door. Already people were milling about and vendors were shouting their wares in noisy competition for customers.
“Arancie, mille lire (oranges, a thousand lira),” Giovanni joined in.
“Due chili” (two kilos), answered a woman.
Giovanni placed a bag on the scale and began to fill it. Suddenly his eye caught the glint of something shiny among the oranges. He picked it up. It was a 500-lire coin, with silver edges around a brass center. He glanced around quickly. The woman was searching her purse for money. Tomaso was busy helping another customer. Giovanni slipped the coin into his pocket. He finished filling the bag and handed it to the woman.
The customers came one after another all morning long. Giovanni forgot about the coin until another gleam caught his eye. This time it was two 500-lire coins! That made 1,500 lire, half of what Tomaso had promised to pay him for a day’s work! Giovanni remembered what his father had said at family night, “Heavenly Father will help us as we work to solve our problems.” This must beHeavenly Father’s way of blessing us for paying tithing, he thought. But as he slipped the coins into his pocket, he felt that something was not right.
“That’s all for today,” Tomaso said shortly. “Let’s clean up.”
Giovanni tried to ignore the knot in his stomach as he boxed the remaining oranges and helped collapse the tables. He wished Tomaso would pay him so that he could get away.
“Three thousand lire,” Tomaso said gruffly, holding out three bills in his hand.
Giovanni reached for the money, then stopped. His father’s words echoed in his mind, “… avoid evil, even if it seems profitable.”
He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out the three coins. “I found these today among the oranges. I don’t know who they belong to, but they do not belong to me.”
Tomaso stared at the coins for a moment. Then a smile began to turn up the corners of his mouth. “Thank you, Giovanni,” he said, taking the coins from the boy’s small hand with his large one. “I thought I had lost them. They are part of my brother’s coin collection. They are not worth much beyond their face value, but they give my brother much pleasure. He is ill and has few pleasures, so I was distressed at losing them.”
Tomaso turned and put some oranges into a sack. He handed it to Giovanni with the lire bills. “You are not only a hard worker but honest. All the other boys I hired stole oranges from me. You not only returned my brother’s coins, but you also did not steal any fruit. I cannot afford to pay you more money, but I can give you this.”
Now it was Giovanni’s turn to smile. The terrible knot in his stomach had disappeared. He took the three bills and the sack Tomaso held out, and turned to go.
“Giovanni,” Tomaso said, “come again tomorrow—six o’clock sharp.”

A. J. Schumann, 17, spent six hours helping his dad and neighbors clear a 30-yard firebreak in an effort to save his and other houses. “It’s amazing to see how people rally together in a crisis,” he says. “Ward members, whose homes were not in danger, came to help us. After we evacuated, somehow two of our friends made their way back and hosed down our burning fences. All eight houses survived, but I’ve learned people matter more than things.”

David was taught well by his parents, but as a teenage farm boy he desired his own personal witness of the reality of God and His Work.
“One day in my youth I was hunting cattle. While climbing a steep hill, I stopped to let my horse rest, and there, once again, an intense desire came over me to receive a manifestation of the truth of the Restored Gospel. I dismounted, threw my reins over my horse’s head, and there under a serviceberry bush I prayed that God would declare to me the truth of his revelation to Joseph Smith. I am sure that I prayed fervently and sincerely and with as much faith as a young boy could muster.
“At the conclusion of the prayer, I arose from my knees, threw the reins over my faithful pony’s head, and got into the saddle. As I started along the trail again, I remember saying to myself: ‘No spiritual manifestation has come to me. If I am true to myself, I must say I am just the same “old boy” that I was before I prayed.’”
He had learned a great lesson. A young Latter-day Saint does not get conviction merely by asking the Lord, but by combining that asking with work, service, sacrifice, and obedience to God’s commandments.

Growing up, Matthew attended church in small branches. He and his wife, a convert from Ukraine, grew accustomed to multiple callings and full engagement with international LDS communities but then moved to the United States. Large wards and different cultural expectations made them feel “unneeded and adrift,” he recalls. “We seemed unable to fit in. We felt ignored, with a lack of uplift and connection on Sundays.”
Their frustration reached a breaking point when, after moving to a different city, Matthew and his wife looked forward to a visit from a local priesthood leader whose purpose in visiting ended up being to ask them to keep their lively toddler under control during sacrament meeting. Deeply hurt, Matthew contemplated never returning to the local meetinghouse. “What stopped me,” he explains, “was my testimony that this is the Lord’s Church and that the Savior wants me there. Participating in the gospel has consequences beyond any hurt or personal encounter I’ll have in this life.”
Matthew found this reliance on the divine crucial to staying active in the Church. “The only thing that’s kept me going sometimes is my testimony of Christ,” he explains. “The gospel is bigger than any of us. Christ sees what we cannot see, knows what we can become, and has room for all.”

The years 1998 and 1999 were a period of somber events in the Congo. I fled my village because of war and spent more than seven months traveling in the wilderness with a group from my village. We had no way to return home.
Every evening our group prayed and sang together, and each person took a turn suggesting a hymn. When it was my turn, I suggested “How Firm a Foundation” (Hymns, no. 85). Even though no one else knew this hymn, I felt that it answered our concerns exactly.
I sang “How Firm a Foundation” many times in those seven months. It comforted me in my moments of isolation and suffering when life was so difficult with sickness and famine in the wilderness. I sang it alone, but the words and music penetrated the ears and hearts of the others: “In ev’ry condition—in sickness, in health, / In poverty’s vale or abounding in wealth, / At home or abroad, on the land or the sea— / As thy days may demand, … so thy succor shall be.” Because of these words, others told me they wanted to learn more about the Church.
One of the men in our group was the leader of a church in our country. After we returned to our village, this brother told me he wanted to find out more about the gospel. I responded to him, following the example set by Alma in Mosiah 18 (see Mosiah 18:8–10). In the end he joined the Church.
The hymn “How Firm a Foundation” touched my soul and brought me great joy and comfort while I was in the wilderness, and it brings me joy today knowing that it helped a good brother to join the Church.
Thierry Alexis Toko, Republic of Congo

Members are eager and open in sharing their newfound faith with others. Dr. Clement Nwafor, for example, was introduced to the gospel by Reuben Onuokoa, the father of one of his patients. Dr. Nwafor is the chief medical officer for more than one million Nigerians and is a prominent and popular citizen in the Aba, Nigeria, area. When Brother Onuokoa took his daughter to Dr. Nwafor for a medical examination, he told Dr. Nwafor that, despite his titles and positions, he still lacked one thing: “serving the Lord who has brought you into this universe.”

Not long after that bold declaration, Dr. Nwafor accepted the gospel. “I felt like a new person,” he said. “I felt like somebody who was born again.” Less than six months after Dr. Nwafor’s baptism, he was set apart as a high councilor when Elder Neal A. Maxwell organized the first West Africa stake in Aba, Nigeria, on 15 May 1988.

It was a beautiful day in the hills of Tennessee, and I was on a two-hour training ride for cycling with my uncle. For the first half of the ride the wind was at our back, and we flew right along without any difficulty. When we changed direction, however, we found out why our ride had been so easy. Now the wind, which was blowing hard at about 20–30 miles an hour, was in our faces.
In cycling there is a technique, called drafting, where one person rides in the front and uses the most energy to break the wind for the person who rides right behind.
My uncle is a big guy—about 6 foot 3 inches tall and 240 pounds—so he was having a horrible time trying to keep up with a little 17-year-old on a road bike. About halfway home the wind was at its worst, so I accelerated ahead and slid in front of my uncle.
The next day at church he talked about how much of a difference it made. “You’re little, but the amount of wind you blocked made such a significant difference.” He then made a comparison that has changed my life. He said, “It’s almost like when you are having trouble in life, you let the Savior slip in front of you and you get behind Him. You still have to work to stay behind Him, but the wind He blocks makes a world of difference.”
After that ride I was worn, hurting, and beat, but after hearing my uncle, I realized that all I have to do is let the Savior lead and then do the work to stay behind Him, and He will take the wind for me.

As a young father, sealed in the temple and with my heart turned to my wife and a young family, I met President Joseph Fielding Smith for the first time. In the First Presidency council room, where I had been invited, came an absolutely sure witness to me as President Harold B. Lee asked me, indicating President Smith, who was sitting next to him, “Do you believe that this man could be the prophet of God?”
President Smith had just entered the room and had not yet spoken a word. I am eternally grateful that I was able to answer because of what came down into my heart, “I know he is,” and I knew it as surely as I knew the sun was shining that he held the priesthood sealing power for all the earth.
That experience gave his words great power for me and my wife when, in a conference session on April 6, 1972, President Joseph Fielding Smith gave the following counsel: “It is the will of the Lord to strengthen and preserve the family unit. We plead with fathers to take their rightful place as the head of the house. We ask mothers to sustain and support their husbands and to be lights to their children.”

When President Ezra Taft Benson was just twelve years old, his father was called on a mission. Ezra was the oldest child in the family, with six younger brothers and sisters. He knew that his mother would need him to help her make their home a cheerful and comfortable place. He woke up early each morning so that he could milk the cows before he went to school. His little brothers and sister laughed as he squirted milk into their mouths when they came into the barn to watch him, and he comforted them when they missed their father. He even dug vegetables from the snow so that they would have enough to eat. Ezra tried in every way to make his home a happy one.
Think about your home. Is it a place of love? Is it a place where people care for one another? Do you show respect, honor, and love for your home and those who live in it? Think about your neighborhood. Is it a good place? Do you show respect, honor, and love for your neighbors?
President Benson lived on a farm in Whitney, Idaho, when he was a child. There were chickens, milking cows, beef cattle, and horses. There were also neighbors. Ezra’s mother taught him to greet people with a polite “How do you do?” One afternoon while the family was seated at the dinner table, little Ezra noticed the bowl of boiled eggs and said courteously, “How do you do, eggs?” Everyone laughed, and it was a family joke that was retold for years.
Ezra helped his neighbors willingly when they needed extra people to do farm work. Some of the neighbors said that they never knew anyone who worked harder than he did.
When we show respect, honor, and love in our homes and neighborhoods, we are showing reverence for them, and in this way, we are letting Heavenly Father know that we are thankful for the beautiful and good world He created for us.

In our times, Sister Knell is a covenant woman who makes a difference. She is a widow in her 80s with a 47-year-old son, mentally and physically disabled from birth. A few years ago this dear sister set out to do what seemed impossible to everyone else—to teach her son Keith to read. Learning to read was his greatest desire, but doctors had said Keith was incapable of reading. With faith in her heart and a desire to bless her son’s life, this humble widow said to her son, “I know Heavenly Father will bless you so you can read the Book of Mormon.”
Sister Knell wrote the following: “It was hard work for Keith, and it wasn’t easy for me, either. At first there were some bad days, because I got upset. It has been a time-consuming, word-by-word struggle. I sit by his side each morning. I point to each word with a pencil to help him stay on track. After seven long years and one month, Keith finally finished reading the Book of Mormon.” His mother said, “Hearing him read a verse without help is a thrill I just cannot put into words.” She testifies, “I know miracles do happen when we put our trust in the Lord.”

Sustaining him in the many challenges of life, including a long series of life-threatening illnesses, was the inner strength he received in his devotion to Church callings. Even as a boy, he felt an urgency to be about his Father’s business. While tromping hay for his older brothers one hot summer afternoon, he heard the bell for Primary ringing about a mile away. Ignoring his brothers’ insistence that he miss Primary and stay with his job atop the hay, young Spencer slipped off the wagon, unseen by his brothers, and was nearly to the meetinghouse before they discovered his absence.

A true story from the USA.
Kaci smiled as she took her seat in Primary. Today had been the children’s sacrament meeting presentation. It had been scary to say her part, but she did it!
Sister Dench, the Primary president, stood up front. “Good job in sacrament meeting today!” she said. “I know you each worked hard to learn your parts.”
“Except for Kaci,” one of the older boys said. “No one could tell what she said.”
Sister Dench frowned at the boy, then turned to smile at Kaci. “You did a wonderful job.”
Kaci tried not to cry. She’d done her best to learn her part. But sometimes her words didn’t come out right.
On the way home, Kaci couldn’t stop the tears any longer.
“What’s wrong?” Mommy asked.
“One of the boys made fun of me. He said I didn’t say my part right.” She started crying harder.
“You did a good job. Daddy and I are proud of you,” Mommy said. “Do you know who else is proud of you?”
Kaci shook her head.
“Heavenly Father,” Mommy said. “He knows you did your best.”
Kaci felt a lot better. She wanted to use her words to help other people feel happy too.
At school, Kaci told her teacher that she was doing a good job teaching.
At home, Daddy was fixing a shelf. Kaci told him he was doing a good job making their house nice.
Outside, Kaci and her brother played ball together. Kaci told him that he was doing a good job throwing.
Telling people they were doing a good job made Kaci feel good inside. When she saw others smile, she knew that her simple words made a big difference!
Watch a video of this story at friend.ChurchofJesusChrist.org.
Illustrations by Greg Paprocki

High school graduation night was hectic, and I was in a hurry. The envelope lying on my bed that evening didn’t look particularly interesting, so I hurriedly opened it, figuring it was just another piece of junk mail I could throw out and get on with my night. But, to my surprise, the envelope contained a letter:
Dear Angela,
Do you get a kick out of remembering things you did when you were a kid? Good, because I’m going to ask you to turn your thoughts back to when you were ten years old. I was your Primary teacher then …
The letter went on to tell me what my teacher, Sister Bently, remembered about me and my classmates. The letter ended:
In June of the year you were in my class, I gave a lesson on the Word of Wisdom. Each of you wrote a letter to yourself that day. Today, I am mailing the note you wrote to yourself so long ago. I do not remember what you wrote. What is inside is strictly for you.
Love,
Sister Bently
I quickly opened the seal on the smaller envelope inside the letter and read the short but beautiful testimony of why it is important for me to keep the Word of Wisdom. I was glad to know that I had been true to myself and kept my standards.
In the years since I had written the note, I had observed the sometimes dire consequences of breaking the Word of Wisdom—things like cancer and car accidents. When I was ten and in Primary, I knew the Word of Wisdom. Now, I also know the wisdom in the words.

Even Maricar Mendoza, who admits she’s somewhat shy, didn’t hesitate to raise her hand when her teacher one day asked who in the class wasn’t Catholic. A discussion of religion was going on, and Maricar felt she had to speak up. “I said, ‘Ma’am, I’m a Mormon.’ I explained to her what our church is, and I was able to discuss a lot of things such as latter-day prophets, Joseph Smith, and the plan of salvation,” she says.
Maricar still considers herself shy. But she’s glad she spoke up.