Gospel Story Finder

When I was called as first counselor in the bishopric, sacrament meeting attendance in our ward had dwindled. As a bishopric, we decided to fast fervently and pray to Heavenly Father to give us the wisdom to know how to strengthen the members.
The Lord inspired us to emphasize the sacrament meeting as a spiritual feast, so we came up with a way to invite the members, their friends, and their neighbors to come to sacrament meeting and experience a spiritual feast. We made invitations that said, “Come and hear, see, and feel the presence of the Lord in a spiritual feast” and gave them to each of the members, including the young men and young women.
We also prepared a small ward choir of eight voices. We prayerfully selected spiritual hymns and speakers and invited members to help with the reverence of the occasion.
Everything was ready for the spiritual feast! Attendance that Sunday included 42 investigators and less-active members. At the second spiritual feast, there were 64 investigators and less-active members. Three months later we could no longer fit in the chapel, and six months later our ward had grown so much that we were preparing for it to be divided into two wards.
We learned that treating sacrament meeting as more than just a Sunday meeting but as a sacred experience gave us a marvelous opportunity to invite our loved ones to come unto Christ through a sacred spiritual feast.
Our preparation to improve the quality of the spirit and reverence of sacrament meeting helped improve the attendance of the people who had never imagined feeling joy by coming to see, feel, and find it in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

As a young missionary in Japan, I received a knock on our apartment door just before bedtime. I was surprised to see our mission president standing in the rain at the apartment’s threshold.
He said, “Elder Gilbert, get dressed. We are going to see Elder Matsuo.”
Elder Matsuo’s father was dying of cancer. I immediately assumed what had happened, but as I got into the mission vehicle, President Matsumori turned to me and explained that the missionary’s mother had been killed in an accident.
He then said, “Pray that we will be able to empathize and understand what will comfort this missionary.”
I felt overwhelmed and inadequate. I can still remember the windshield wipers going back and forth as we drove in silence. Suddenly the Spirit brought Alma 7:12 to my heart:
And he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people.
I knew that the Atonement of Jesus Christ allows us to overcome sin. I knew that through Christ we could overcome death. But that night, on the Osaka freeway, I learned that Christ could also comfort us in our struggles—in our ­suffering—when life isn’t fair. I didn’t know what that young missionary was facing, but through the miracle of the Atonement, there was One who did.
For any of you who are struggling with challenges that don’t seem fair, don’t turn to the world for answers. Please turn to the covenants that bind you to Jesus Christ. He can comfort you in a way no one else can.

Another moving story of loyalty is that of Stephen Markham, who appeared in the Prophet’s later life at nearly every occasion of peril. When Joseph was imprisoned in Missouri, Stephen Markham brought the Smith family safely to Illinois. 15 When Joseph was illegally detained and abused by two Missouri constables, it was Stephen Markham who defied them, shamed them into humane behavior, and helped prevent the Prophet’s abduction to Missouri.16 At Carthage, it was Brother Markham who offered to trade clothes and help the Prophet escape.17 On the day of the martyrdom, Brother Markham was returning to the jail with medicine for Willard Richards when the conspiring guards challenged him, attacked him, and finally forced him away at bayonet point to keep him from returning to the Prophet. Prodded onto his horse, he was poked so many times that his boots filled with blood.18 Joseph Smith’s last journal entry records a prophecy spoken to Stephen Markham that “if I and Hyrum were ever taken again, we should be massacred.”19 The measure of Brother Markham’s love is his brave effort to prevent that prophecy’s fulfillment.

A few days ago, I visited Florida, USA, after Hurricane Irma hit. I met a group of Latter-day Saints who were helping clean up. They had left Georgia at 4:00 in the morning, driven for hours, worked into the night, and worked again the next day!
As we were leaving, a man walked up to our car and said, “I’m not a member of your church. I can’t believe what you have done for us. God bless you.” Other members of the Church from that part of Florida went hundreds of miles to another part of Florida that was hit even harder.
I have heard that some people have started calling the Latter-day Saints who are wearing the yellow Helping Hands T-shirts “the Yellow Angels.”

On a special weekend, I had the privilege of assisting Elder Jorge M. Alvarado of the Quorum of the Seventy in the wonderful reorganization of a stake in the Dominican Republic. After stake conference, we decided to counsel with the families of the newly called leaders. Elder Alvarado looked at the young couples who had just been given this enormous responsibility and asked, speaking especially to the sisters: “Sisters, what are your feelings, what are your impressions?”
One of the sisters replied, “Elder Alvarado, after all I have just heard and felt, nothing will ever be the same again. For me, there is a before and an after this conference. Nothing will be as it was before!”
Later in the afternoon, we had the honor of visiting a couple of families in their respective homes. The same question was addressed to a couple who had been married for several decades. The sister replied with a big smile: “My husband and I have been married for several years; it may sound strange for many to hear, but after what we just went through and felt at the conference, our married life has just begun.”

Alan looked at his watch. It was 5:00. “Sherry will be getting home from Primary with the kids about now,” Alan thought, wishing a little he had brought the whole family. He was missing Sherry already.
“Todd, I hope you find a wife as wonderful as your mother,” Alan thought.
Alan’s thoughts wandered back to the day before his wedding. He’d spent the day getting traveler’s checks, changing the oil in the car, confirming reservations for the honeymoon. At night he went over to see Sherry. They went outside and walked hand in hand around her parent’s backyard, admiring the flowers and neat rows of vegetables.
“What will it be like to be married to you?” Sherry asked him thoughtfully.
“What’s the matter?” he kidded. “You change your mind?”
“It’s just that I’ve never been married before.”
“Me either,” Alan said.
“And tomorrow night at this time, we’ll … we’ll be married.”
“That’s right. Are you nervous?” Alan asked.
“I guess so. You’ll be my man. What kind of man are you?”
“What kind of man do you want me to be?”
“Oh, like my dad, like the stake president, like the prophet.”
“You mean old?” he asked with a grin.
“Oh, you know,” she said, taking his hand. “I want a priesthood man.”
“What kind of man is that?”
“D&C 121:41–46.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“You’re the returned missionary; look it up. Okay?”
“Okay. Well, I’d better go.” He leaned over and they kissed. “Do you realize,” he whispered in her ear, “that this is the last time I’m ever going to kiss a single girl? It’s an auspicious occasion.”

On a personal note let me share with you an experience in which I witnessed selflessness that brought tears to my eyes and helps prove my point of finding the greatest personal serenity through a selfless service to others.

A while ago I was involved in a voluntary mental health project to take care of the hungry, the less clothed, the sick, and to address the spiritual and temporal needs of homeless people on the leeward side of this island. We were to walk the beach and bush areas in the Waianae area and seek out individuals that were homeless. In my assignment I met many troubled individuals but none more memorable than a small middle aged Hawaiian woman living in the bush and tree area next to the Waianae Boat Yard. This area is a well- known homeless site here on Oahu. I was introduced to this sweet troubled woman by another woman that I will refer to as Ruth (This is not her real name). She would not want me to draw attention to her by using her real name. Ruth, who I grew to admire and care a great deal about that week, was a woman who once was a Catholic nun but had left the nunnery to work more directly with the under privileged citizens of Oahu. Ruth was a perfect example of living a life of contentment. Everywhere we went that week everyone knew her and I can say seemed to love her. I could almost immediately understand why she was so loved. She was heavenly. She was far from financially wealthy. She seemed happy and was very interesting to talk with. We talked a lot about religion those days and nights. Ruth was saintly in my opinion. She was selfless in her service.

My experience with this small troubled Hawaiian woman that Ruth took me to would probably not have happened without Ruth’s guidance. Ruth led me one night through literal darkness and bush to reach this poor woman. This dark journey could not have been more symbolic to me. Ruth and I learned from this troubled Hawaiian woman that she had been homeless for the last two years. She did have a tent that I stood by with my flashlight in the dark of the evening, but she commented to me where not to sit down because of the stinging spiders. This spider spot was approximately eight feet from her tent lodging. She shared information with us because we were interviewing her for placement into more suitable housing and care. In our medical interview she reported that she had been raped and had become HIV infected from the rape. Because of her confirmed HIV infection she was turned away from several housing opportunities. She was most gracious and loving in a grandmother type manner to Ruth and myself. We established this woman eligible for suitable housing and I am sure for more nourishment with food and clothing. I don’t believe I will ever be more humbled and certainly more blessed than I was trying to serve this sickly woman. I don’t know how selfless I was during this experience but I do know the spirit was with me at a very high level. I could not have been more fulfilled after that evening assisting this poor woman.

Thank you for such a beautiful and inspirational October edition: “From First Date to Eternal Mate.” When I came home from school, the first thing I saw was the New Era. My mum had placed it on the table so I would not miss it. That day at school all 32 class members bombarded me with questions about my beliefs on dating and marriage. I explained why I’m not going to be dating until I turn 16, and why I don’t watch TV programs or movies or listen to music that is suggestive. On my way home I wondered what I could do on a date and how I should go about dating. In answer to my silent prayer, I opened the door and saw the New Era! I read it from cover to cover and deeply felt the Spirit, knowing that the things I had shared in class were true.Rachel Gordon, Oxford Ward, Reading England Stake

I went off to school that fall. I was on the track team, and though I was not a star that year, I ran straight and hard. When I came home that summer, I had an interview with my bishop to begin the work of serving a mission. It didn’t take place in a bishop’s office, but in a blue, two-story home in south San Francisco. I sat on the edge of a bed, and the bishop pulled close his favorite old chair. He seemed a little hesitant. His eyes were wet.
“Tom, you are a Rosa,” he began. “And you are a Latter-day Saint.”
“Yes.”
“If you honor your family, you will honor your church. If you honor your church, you will honor your family.”
“I understand that.”
After asking me the normal missionary interview questions, he concluded, “You will do good. You will be a fine missionary.”
Then he told me to go help Mom in the kitchen. I looked back at him as I left. His hair was mostly gray now, and his arms were not as thickly muscled as before. He sat in his chair and stared out the window at ten thousand sparkling lights on the hillside across the bay from our home. I wondered if he knew how proud I was to be his son and how much it meant to me to share his good name. I walked downstairs realizing that all those years I had been running, my father had been growing, and I would never lack for someone to look up to.

Eighty-eight-year-old Brother Thomas Coelho is a good example of one who saw with his heart essential things. He was a faithful member of our high council in Paysandú, Uruguay. Prior to joining the Church, he had an accident while riding his motorcycle. While he was lying on the ground unable to stand, two of our missionaries helped him stand up and return to his home. He said that he felt something special when the missionaries came to his rescue. Later he experienced strong feelings again when the missionaries taught him. The impact of those feelings was such that he read the Book of Mormon from cover to cover in just a few days. He was baptized and served tirelessly from that day forward. I remember him riding his motorcycle up and down the streets of our city, even in the cold and rainy winters, to bring others to church so they could feel, see, and know of a surety as he did.

When Joseph was about six or seven years old, he and his brothers and sisters were stricken with typhus fever. Although the others recovered readily, Joseph was left with a painful sore on his leg. The doctors, using the best medicine they had, treated him, and yet the sore persisted. In order to save Joseph’s life, they said, he would have to lose his leg. Thankfully, however, soon after that diagnosis, the doctors returned to the Smith home and reported that there was a new procedure which might save Joseph’s leg. They wanted to operate immediately and had brought some cord with which to tie little Joseph to the bed so that he wouldn’t thrash about, since they had nothing with which to dull the pain. Young Joseph, however, told them, “You won’t need to tie me.”

The doctors suggested he take some brandy or wine so that the pain might not be so severe. “No,” young Joseph replied. “If my father will sit on the bed and hold me in his arms, I will do whatever is necessary.” Joseph Smith Sr. held in his arms his small child, and the doctors removed the diseased piece of bone. Although young Joseph was lame for some time afterward, he was healed. At such a young age and countless other times throughout his life, Joseph Smith taught us courage—by example.

The first of November Christmas trees began to appear in department stores.
“Let’s decorate our tree!” cried Sandra.
“Let’s not,” said Mother. “It hasn’t even snowed yet.”
The middle of November the first flecks of snow fell.
“Let’s buy the tree,” Sandra urged. “Come on, everyone. It’s snowing. It’s time to decorate the tree.”
Daddy kneeled down so he could look his daughter right in the eyes. “Look, honey, there has to be lots of snow—real deep snow. When it snows so much that you must wear your boots, we will buy and decorate the tree.”
The first of December Mother could sweep the snow from the walk with a broom. It was just a little snow.
The middle of December it really began to snow. And it snowed and it snowed. The fence posts wore tall hats, and the red flag was almost hidden on the mailbox. Sandra’s older brother and sister got out the toboggan and searched for their mittens.
“I want to play in the snow too. Wait for me,” pleaded Sandra.
“Susan, Larry, wait for your sister,” Mother instructed. “Sandra, get your boots on.”
“Boots and snow? Boots and snow!” squealed Sandra. “Now can we buy our Christmas tree?”
“Yes,” said Mother, “we’ll talk to Daddy about it tonight.”
After supper Daddy agreed that it was time to get a tree but suggested that they wait until family night to buy it.
So on Monday night, Daddy, Mother, Sandra, Larry, and Susan all dressed in warm coats and cozy snow boots and got into the station wagon. They drove to the vacant lot near the school that was now filled with trees and chose a very big one.
“Now can we decorate it?” asked Sandra.
Daddy laughed. “Not until it’s set up. And I’m going to have to saw off some of the trunk first just to get it into our living room. Give me a little time and it’ll be ready.”
Even when the trunk was cut shorter, it was a close squeeze to stand the tree upright in the living room.
“Now?” asked Sandra.
“Yes, now,” answered Daddy. “You kids run up and get the boxes from the attic.”
There were lots of boxes. Dad opened one box and began stringing the lights.
Mother opened a box of large red glass balls and gently began hanging them.
Larry opened a box of assorted wooden toys and identified each one as he hung them—“Here’s a rocking horse. Here’s a soldier. Here’s a drum.”
“Look what I have!” shouted Susan as she held up beautiful strands of colored tinsel.
Sandra had peeked into each box and then stood very quietly, watching.
“Hey, why aren’t you helping, Sandra? Look, at last we’re decorating the tree just as you wanted,” said Daddy.
“Why the long face, Sandy, honey?” asked Mother.
“It’s not here,” said Sandra.
“What’s not here?”
“The decoration.”
“These are all decorations, dear. Here, you take this bell and hang it on the bottom branch. Maybe the kitty will play with it and not bother the rest of the decorations.”
“I don’t want the bell. I want the decoration.”
Susan said, “I think she’s looking for some special decoration. What color is it, Sandra?”
“White.”
“Here’s a white foam ball,” called her brother. “Is this it?”
“No.”
“This white star?” asked Mother.
“No.”
“Here, I’ll open the rest of the boxes and you search until you find it,” said Daddy. “You better hurry, though. We need you to help us get this big tree decorated before bedtime.”
While the others worked and worked, Sandra hunted and hunted.
Finally the tree was full of colored balls, small trinkets, streamers, lights, and topped with a glittering star. The boxes were empty. Everyone’s face was smiling except Sandra’s.
“It’s gone,” she whispered.
Mother brought in the family night treat of hot cocoa and yellow cheese on round crackers. “Here, now, let’s put on a happy face.”
Sandra shook her head.
Daddy picked her up and said, “Come with me to take these boxes back to the attic. I’ll let you ride piggyback.”
Sandra had to duck low as they left through the door. It almost made her laugh. She loved being high. Both she and Daddy had to crouch low so as not to hit the ceiling in the attic. But something did hit Sandra’s face.
“The decoration! The decoration! I found it!” Sandra shouted.
She took hold of a white paper chain hanging from the attic ceiling that she had made last year in primary. Daddy unhooked it for her, and she carried it very carefully down to the Christmas tree.
Sandra placed it around the bottom branches right above the bell.
“There,” she said, “now the tree is decorated.”

I have a three year old grandson named James. My daughter had been teaching him to be careful about strangers. She was quizzing him to see how well he had listened to her and asked him, “James would you ever get into a car with a stranger?” He answered, “No.” She continued, “What if he said he would give you candy? Then would you go with him?” James thought for a minute and finally said, “I’m not telling.” My daughter became a little alarmed and said, “James, you never go with a stranger even if he has candy. It is very dangerous!” James then said, “Don’t talk to me mommy!”

My first year in middle school I was nervous that I wouldn’t be able to find friends who would respect my standards. After a short time I became good friends with a classmate, and I told him that I was a Mormon. He asked me about it, so I gave him a For the Strength of Youth pamphlet. Starting that day, he quit swearing in front of me. If your friends are true friends, they will respect your decisions and help you maintain your standards.
Candela M., age 13, Buenos Aires, Argentina

Knowing that I have covenanted to take upon myself the name of Christ gives me a sense of duty to follow Him, but it’s not always easy. One time at a group activity I saw a kid who didn’t have anyone to talk to. I felt like I should go talk with him. At first, I didn’t want to. I am not that great at putting myself out there to make friends. But remembering what Christ would do, I found the strength to make a new friend. As I was talking to him, I could feel the Spirit prompting me to ask questions and have fun.
Evan A., 16, Utah, USA

My six-year-old sister, Emily, eats catsup sandwiches. Just bread and catsup. It looks gross. She walks around the house, talking to herself too. Sometimes she even crawls around barking and howling like a wolf. Mom says she has a vivid imagination. I think she’s just crazy.
Usually I try ignoring Emily, but that’s hard to do because we share a bedroom. My half is neat, and my clothes are put away. Emily always leaves her bottom drawer open, and her bed is lumpy. There are stuffed animals all over the place, and she talks to them. I shut the door and find a quiet place to read. That’s what I was doing when Mom made her big announcement. “I have a new job,” she said. “It’s only on Saturdays. I’m going to work at the ceramic shop.”
“Wow!” Emily exclaimed. “Can I come?”
Mom looked right at me with her serious look. I felt my whole stomach flop over.
“Margaret,” she said, “I’ll need you to keep an eye on Emily. It’ll only be until your dad gets home at noon.”
I blinked hard, then nodded reluctantly. Sometimes I hate being eleven.
That first Saturday, Emily woke me up at eight o’clock. “Mom just left,” she reported. “Want to play checkers? Want to play dress up? You can be the witch, and I’ll be the princess.”
“No,” I muttered. “Definitely not.”
“OK, you can be the princess. I’ll be the witch.”
“Forget it,” I said a little louder. “Emily, I just have to watch you. No one said I have to act out fairy tales.”
She shrugged. “I’m going to eat my breakfast.”
Dana called me at ten o’clock. She wanted to go bike riding.
“I’d have to bring Emily,” I told her, but she still wanted to go.
I had a long talk with Emily. “No making animal noises,” I said. “And absolutely no talking to pretend people when you’re with me—got it?”
Emily nodded.
We rode down to the library and picked out some new books. Emily wanted one on unicorns, but I helped her find a beginning mystery instead. I was starting to feel a little better about things. Maybe I could straighten crazy Emily out.
At lunchtime, I made us all normal peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Emily ate hers without saying a word. In fact, she hardly said anything all morning. Then Dad came home, and I left to play basketball. I walked Emily to school on my way. She had play practice.
On the next Saturday, Dana wanted me to come over to her house. She was helping her mom make cookies for a bake sale. She didn’t mind about Emily. That’s because Dana’s my very best friend.
I told Emily not to talk to the cookies or try any other funny stuff. She nodded. Then I found a clean red shirt.
“Here, put this on,” I said. She didn’t move for a minute; then she pulled off her old green one real slow. She wore it every Saturday, and I hated that shirt. Next, we smoothed out her bed and picked up the room.
Emily was pretty quiet at Dana’s. Even Dana noticed. “Are you OK?” she asked.
“I’m fine.” Emily didn’t even wiggle her eyebrows.
I smiled at her. She was shaping up, after all.
On Friday Emily burst into the house after school. Our school play was that night, and she had a small part. Not me. I’d melt if they made me get on a stage in front of a million people. “You’re going, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Of course,” I told her. “Dana and I are going together.”
The play was about Alice in Wonderland. Emily was a giant green caterpillar. Everyone laughed when she shouted out her lines. Then they clapped real hard for her.
“Your sister is soooo funny,” Dana giggled. “You must be laughing all the time at home.”
I kind of squirmed around in my chair, and I felt sort of sick.
Afterward, Emily came running up with her long tail bumping behind her. “Did you like it?” Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes were laughing.
“You did great,” I said.
“Do you really think so?” she asked.
I nodded, and she smiled bigger than ever. Then I did some thinking about Emily and me.
The next day was Saturday. Emily didn’t wake me up. She was eating cornflakes and watching cartoons when I checked on her.
“What are we doing today?” she asked. She didn’t seem too excited.
I smiled. “Guess!”
“Are we going to Dana’s?” she sighed.
“Nope,” I said, pleased with myself. “I’m going to take you to the puppet theater at the library if you want to go.”
Emily exploded. “Hip, hip, hurray!” Then she froze in her tracks. “I’ll go change,” she said.
I eyed the green shirt. “You’re fine,” I said, “but don’t forget to make your bed.”
After the puppet show, we invited Dana over to our house for lunch. Before we ate, Emily put on the whole puppet show all over again. Dana laughed until her face was as red as Mom’s pickled beets. I even laughed too.
Then we ate lunch. My catsup sandwich tasted kind of zingy, but it was really good.

Recently in Mexico I had the opportunity of meeting a wonderful, mature missionary couple, Brother and Sister John Fossum, who commented, “Our greatest need is for trained leadership. Married couples with years of experience in church work could literally work miracles. We have twenty-two scattered branches without, as yet, an organization to train the branch leaders. We are so new and growing so rapidly, and leaders with experience are not available.”
The Fossums continued, “Many blessings have come to us as a result of our mission—blessings we always receive from the Lord whenever we serve without restraint.” They added, “People shrivel up and die in beds and rocking chairs. We didn’t want that kind of retirement; the Lord knew we wanted to go on a mission, and we received the call.”
Some couples, they continued, “imagine they can’t live without their families close by, and some fear for their own physical well-being. It was reassuring when our stake president set us apart, and he promised us that the Lord would look after our family and that we would have good health to the end of our mission.” They continued, “At our age it is difficult to live up to missionary schedules, but we have found it is possible, and it has its rewards.”
And then Brother Fossum said, “Fifty years ago I served a mission in Hawaii and learned to speak Hawaiian. It was difficult then, and it was difficult at our age to go through the Missionary Training Center and learn Spanish; but we did it and it has been a great learning experience. The spiritual treasures alone are worth the effort.”
Sister Fossum said, “It’s really hard on grandmas to be away from twenty-six grandchildren, but I’m coming through with flying colors—sometimes at half-mast, but they are flying!”
This dedicated couple concluded: “A mission for those of mature years is a rich, rewarding experience. It’s for those who want to live out their retirement and not just exist.”
To show what can be accomplished with such love and dedication, let me share with you again the words of the Fossums. They said, “To visit one of our branches we get up at 4:00 a.m. on Sunday to catch an early bus. Sister Fossum started a little music class with the sisters during the priesthood hour. She taught the basics of directing music and discovered a thirteen-year-old girl with a perfect sense of time, who now leads the singing in sacrament meeting. Now that branch has a chorister.”
Brother Fossum said, “I was invited to attend their branch presidency meeting to show how we do some things. A few months ago in this same branch, home teaching and visiting teaching were just words in a book. But now nine pairs of home teachers are making their visits, and they will soon have visiting teaching underway. These are incidental rewards. The great rewards come with the service we give and the love we feel for the humble new members that result in a change in their lives for the better—then we, too, are enriched.”

In the 1960s, a professor at Stanford University began a modest experiment testing the willpower of four-year-old children. He placed before them a large marshmallow and then told them they could eat it right away or, if they waited for 15 minutes, they could have two marshmallows.
He then left the children alone and watched what happened behind a two-way mirror. Some of the children ate the marshmallow immediately; some could wait only a few minutes before giving in to temptation. Only 30 percent were able to wait.
It was a mildly interesting experiment, and the professor moved on to other areas of research, for, in his own words, “there are only so many things you can do with kids trying not to eat marshmallows.” But as time went on, he kept track of the children and began to notice an interesting correlation: the children who could not wait struggled later in life and had more behavioral problems, while those who waited tended to be more positive and better motivated, have higher grades and incomes, and have healthier relationships.
What started as a simple experiment with children and marshmallows became a landmark study suggesting that the ability to wait—to be patient—was a key character trait that might predict later success in life.

I remember a time at a youth conference when an exchange student from Germany, who wasn’t a member of our church, stood and shared how meaningful her experience had been being around us and living our standards. She didn’t know how she could go back home and live the same way. I knew I was probably the only person in that room who could empathize, having grown up in Niagara Falls, where members of our Church were very sparse. The Spirit then whispered, “You should talk to her.” But I grumpily resisted the prompting, because the boy I liked had shown interest in her—and she was honestly the last person I wanted to talk to.
After the meeting, the prompting came again: “Go talk to her.” I resisted. “No. I don’t want to.” Then, as she walked past me, I literally felt propelled out of my chair as the Spirit practically yelled, “I said, Go talk to her!” “Fine!” I grumbled back in my mind. “I’ll go talk to her!” We sat down outside, and I was able to share some of my past experiences with her. I testified that if she had the courage to find our missionaries, she would discover other members of our Church in Germany and find the love and support she was seeking. I never found out what happened to her, but I do know the Spirit testified of the truth of what I said.
I share this experience because learning to recognize and obey the voice of the Lord is a skill. As Joseph Smith taught, we can “grow into the principle of revelation” as we learn to recognize the Spirit. [9] For me it started less like a still small voice and more like an exasperated command! But over time, as I’ve learned to listen, it has become quieter, and I’ve learned to respond more quickly and willingly.

That could have happened to me. After graduating from college, I worked for a couple of years at a local nonprofit organization, where I was inspired by the skills of a new manager. I decided to pursue a master’s degree so that I could gain the kinds of skills he had.

Between the time I was accepted to the program and the time I was to attend, we learned that I was pregnant with our first child. Pregnancy is always a challenge, but due to some medical complications, pregnancies are particularly difficult for me. When I arrived to begin my master’s program, the heaviest question in my heart was whether I should be pursuing the degree at all. After all, I was now anticipating motherhood.

In my new ward, I was promptly called to be an assistant nursery leader. The counselor in the bishopric who set me apart for my new calling laid his hands upon my head and bestowed upon me all the usual authority, gifts, and admonitions attendant on a calling in nursery. Then, speaking to my most hidden fears and my deepest questions, he told me, in the name of Christ, to pursue and complete my master’s degree, that this was the will of God.

So I did.

Near the conclusion of my master’s degree, my husband received a good job offer in Washington, DC. I was preparing to be a stay-at-home mom to our then-one-year-old daughter. I felt unsettled by the move, and I wanted the confirmation of the Spirit to help soothe me. But the more I prayed, the more agitated I became. So my husband and I prayed, fasted, and attended the temple to seek guidance about whether or not to take the job.

The matter of our imminent move remained unresolved until the very last day of class in my master’s program. I felt a tremendous and unmistakable outpouring of the Spirit, and a clear, quiet, and calm voice spoke to my mind, telling me I would return for a PhD. I knew why I had been so uneasy about the move to Washington.

I didn’t tell my husband right away what my prompting had been—only that I’d had one and that I was at peace. We decided that when he had the same sense of peace, we could make a plan together based on our individual promptings.

Soon thereafter, he felt strongly that we should make a short-term move to Finland for an internship he had been offered. From Finland I applied for the doctoral program. In Finland my husband started his business.

I finished the doctoral program in about three years and soon found myself—most unexpectedly—on the full-time faculty at BYU. In addition to food, clothing, and shelter, our work has afforded us freedom, family time, fulfillment, challenges, and a great deal of happiness. We now have four children, and they are—individually and collectively—the central joy of my life. This was a future only God could see for me.

I remember telling this story to my friend Kris, who shared that her own story was very similar to mine but had resulted in almost the exact opposite educational path. Kris had always hoped to pursue a PhD. But when she inquired of the Lord, He led her in a different direction. Kris focused on raising her young children at home, finding fulfillment and joy in her decision and trusting the Lord and His guidance.