Gospel Story Finder

One Sunday, seated in front of the television with my cigarettes and usual bottle of wine, I heard the doorbell. Opening the door, I saw two young men in blue suits, with name tags identifying them as missionaries. The room I invited them into was full of smoke and the smell of alcohol, but they were undeterred and began to question me about my beliefs. Did I believe in God?
That made me stop and think. Though I had been baptized as a little boy, I had never been a churchgoer—I thought religion was not worth it. Rather, I believed in my conscience and the need to be honest with my fellowmen. Yet I surprised myself and answered yes to their question. As they continued and began to teach me about Joseph Smith and the Restoration, it seemed as though I had already heard their words. An indescribable feeling began to come over me, and I loved these young men. When they offered a prayer, I began to cry, and my heart began to swell until I felt it would burst.
We made an appointment for the following Tuesday, and during the interval, my life passed before me as in a film. Until the age of twenty, I had abstained from alcohol. But then a business failure and financial difficulties sent me into a deep personal crisis, compounded by my wife’s illness and two-year convalescence in a distant hospital. I sought comfort in alcohol, and before long I began to drink quantities of strong spirits from morning until night. Add to that the 70 to 100 cigarettes I smoked daily and you can understand that my physical condition deteriorated gradually to the point where I was embarrassed about it.
At one point I entered a hospital to be detoxified, but the doctors were unable to help me and I became even more depressed. I had a good job and a wonderful family, but I needed to get out from under these vices. In desperation I abandoned myself even more completely to alcohol, at one point even attempting suicide. I tried to enter a private clinic for help, but could not afford the treatments. It was at this point that Elders Sorensen and Waterman entered my life.
When they returned for our second meeting, the two missionaries spoke to me of many new things that I did not know but felt were true. When they told me about the Word of Wisdom, I felt my heart sink, and I said “Tell me how I, of all persons, can give up alcohol, since I have tried every way I know how, and have had no success.” They asked me if I believed in God and in the things they had taught me and if I felt that I had faith in the Lord. I replied that I did.
“Good,” they said. “If you will listen to us, we’ll help you and the Lord will give you the power to overcome your problem.” “I’ll be infinitely grateful,” I answered. Their exhortations filled me with joy, with hope, and with faith, and I really desired in my heart to follow their guidance. When I prayed I felt more and more self-confidence, and from that morning, with my newborn courage, I imposed the rule that I would never drink cognac again. And I was able to maintain that rule though I suffered greatly. With the help of the elders, and with humility, I was able to gradually reduce the doses of other alcoholic beverages and of cigarettes. It was not easy, but I felt the Lord near to me, helping me. I felt that I had to do my part and that I would not be alone in this trial.
After a month and a half I was able to overcome my vices. Finally free, I felt ready to be baptized, with my wife, on December 28, 1977. I came up out of the baptismal waters renovated in body and spirit, sure that the Lord forgets our sins if we are truly repentant. I can’t explain what a joy it was to abandon the old me and see myself reborn full of trust in myself and love for my fellowman. I had an immense desire to recover all the lost time showing gratitude to the Lord with a commitment to do everything that he commanded me.
Following my baptism, my health improved day by day. At first I continued to arise in the morning full of aches and pains. Getting up was a painful trial. But after prayer, I was able to go about my work serenely until the evening, when the problems returned. But then, one great day, I arose and realized that I was finally free of the pains. From that time forward I have had no problems.
After a year of Church membership, we were able to go to the temple, where my wife and our three daughters were sealed to me. Now we are truly a united family. I have been blessed with a number of challenging callings in the Church and can bear witness that, with humility and faith in the Lord, there is nothing impossible for man. I know, too, that observance of the Word of Wisdom brings health and strength—and the desire to use that strength in the service of the Lord.

In 2015, in the state of Pernambuco, Brazil, 62 members of the J. Reuben Clark Law Society cooperated with the state Prosecutor’s Office in investigating the legal challenges of residents in four different nursing homes. For five hours one Saturday, these attorneys interviewed over 200 residents one by one, each of whom had been functionally forgotten by society.
During their interviews, they discovered several crimes that had been committed against the elderly residents, such as abandonment, mistreatment, and misappropriation of funds. A key pillar of this law society is to care for the poor and in need. Just two months later, the prosecutor successfully filed charges against the responsible parties.
Their assistance is a perfect example of King Benjamin’s teaching “that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.”

Katie rummaged through the storage box, carefully looking through the crumpled packing paper. She still couldn’t find what she was looking for.
She put everything back in the box and went to find Mom.
Katie had looked behind the piano, under the couch, even in Thomas’s crib. It was lost. She had to tell Mom.
“Mommy, the baby Jesus is lost!”
Katie led Mom to the nativity set in the living room. Joseph and Mary and the shepherds were there. The Wise Men—even a camel and a donkey—were there. All of the figures were gathered around the empty manger.
“It looks that way, doesn’t it?” Mom said.
“I can’t find Him anywhere! I looked and looked.” The nativity would be ruined without the baby Jesus.
Mom went to the bookshelf. “He isn’t lost,” she said as she reached up and took something from the top shelf.
Katie sighed in relief. “There He is!” she said. “I’ll go put Him in the manger.”
She reached for the figurine, but Mom put it back on the shelf. “This year we’re going to put the baby Jesus in the manger on Christmas morning,” Mom said. “It’s a tradition Dad learned in France.”
“But everyone looks so sad,” Katie said.
“I don’t think they’re sad,” Mom said. “To me, it looks more like they’re waiting.”
Katie looked at the figures. She could see the place in the manger where baby Jesus belonged. Some of the figurines were reaching out to the empty spot.
“I guess so,” Katie said.
“Remember before Thomas was born how excited you were for him to come?” Mom asked.
Katie smiled at her baby brother, who was playing on a blanket. “It felt like forever!” she said.
“Did you know that prophets waited for thousands of years for Jesus to come to help us return to live with Heavenly Father?” Mom asked.
Katie remembered seeing a picture in Primary of a prophet writing about the Savior’s birth. “I think so,” she said.
“Prophets like Isaiah thought about and wrote about what the Savior would do when He came,” Mom said. “They spent their whole lives waiting for Him to be born. That’s one of the reasons we set up the nativity like this, to remind us that many people waited a long time for the Savior to come.”
“I would get tired of waiting my whole life,” Katie said, looking at the shepherds who were waiting for Jesus.
“But there’s also another reason we do this,” Mom said.
“What?”
“Do you remember in family home evening when we talked about the Second Coming?”
Katie thought for a minute. “Isn’t that when Jesus comes again?
“That’s right,” Mom said.
“When will that happen?” Katie asked.
“Well, we don’t know. But we’re waiting for Jesus to come, just like the shepherds in the nativity and just like the ancient prophets. That’s the other reason we’re waiting until Christmas to put the baby Jesus in the nativity—to remind us that we’re waiting for Jesus too.”
“Will He come to a manger again?” Katie asked.
“No, He won’t be a baby again. The next time Jesus comes, He’ll be resurrected. But the empty manger in the nativity reminds us that just like you’re waiting for Christmas morning, and just like people waited for Jesus to come to earth, now we’re waiting for Him to come back. We didn’t lose the baby Jesus. This is part of the way our family plans to remember Him.”
“We just need to wait,” Katie said with a smile.
“That’s right,” Mom said.
“OK,” Katie said. “But while we’re waiting, can we make some sugar cookies?”

Recently my husband, Greg, received a diagnosis that would require an intensive surgery and months of chemotherapy. Like many of you who have faced a similar situation, we immediately began praying for heaven’s help and God’s power. The Sunday following Greg’s surgery, the sacrament was delivered to our hospital room.
On this occasion, I was the only one taking the sacrament. One piece of bread. One cup of water. At church, my mind often focuses on the delivery system of the sacrament—the preparing, the blessing, and the passing. But on that afternoon, I pondered the gift of God’s power available to me through the sacred ordinance itself and the covenant promise I was making as I took that piece of bread and that cup of water. This was a time when I needed power from heaven. In the midst of great heartache, exhaustion, and uncertainty, I wondered about this gift that would allow me to draw upon the power from Him that I so desperately needed. Partaking of the sacrament would increase my companionship with the Spirit of the Lord, allowing me to draw upon the gift of God’s power, including the ministering of angels and the Savior’s enabling strength to overcome.
I don’t think I had ever realized with this much clarity before that it’s not only who officiates in the ordinance that matters—what the ordinance and our covenant promise unlock also deserves the focus of our attention. Priesthood ordinances and covenant promises allow God to sanctify us and then work wonders in our lives. But how does this happen?
First, in order for an ordinance to manifest the power of God in our lives, it must be done with authority from the Son of God. The delivery system is important. The Father entrusted Jesus Christ with the keys and authority to oversee the delivery of His priesthood ordinances. Under His direction, within the order of His priesthood, the sons of God have been ordained to stand in place of the Son of God.
Second, we don’t just make covenant promises—we must keep them. In many gospel ordinances, we make sacred covenants with God; He promises to bless us as we keep those covenants. Do we realize it is the combination of priesthood ordinances along with the keeping of covenant promises that allows us to draw upon God’s power?
That afternoon I wondered if I, a covenant daughter of God, fully understood how to access the gift of God’s power through priesthood ordinances and if I truly recognized how God’s power works within me.
In 2019 a prophetic invitation was extended to the women of the Church, teaching us how to draw the Savior’s power into our lives. President Russell M. Nelson invited us to study Doctrine and Covenants 25, a revelation given to Emma Smith in Harmony, Pennsylvania. Accepting that invitation changed my life.
Last month I had an unexpected opportunity to visit Harmony. There, under the maple trees, the priesthood was restored to Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery. Close to those trees is the front door of Joseph and Emma’s home. Across from the fireplace in that home there is a window. I stood at that window and wondered what Emma might have thought as she looked out across the trees.
In July of 1830, Emma was 26 years old; she was so young. She was three and a half years into her marriage. She had lost a baby boy—her first. His little grave is just down the lane from her home. As I stood at that window, it was not hard for me to imagine what might have filled her thoughts. Surely she worried about their finances, about the increasing persecution that threatened their safety, about their future. And yet the work of God was everywhere around her. Did she also wonder about her place in the plan, her purpose in His kingdom, and her potential in the eyes of God?
I think she may have.
Just across the way, the gift of God’s priesthood authority and keys had been restored to the earth. This was a time when Emma actually needed power from heaven. In the midst of great heartache, exhaustion, and uncertainty, I imagine Emma wondered about this gift of God’s priesthood that could unlock the power from Him that she so desperately needed.
But Emma didn’t just stand at that window and wonder.
While the Prophet Joseph was being tutored in keys, offices, ordinances, and how to assist in the service of the priesthood, the Lord Himself, through His prophet, gave a revelation to Emma. Not Nauvoo-Relief-Society-president Emma—this revelation was given to 26-year-old Emma in Harmony. Through revelation, Emma would learn about the inward sanctification and covenant connection that would increase the ability of those priesthood ordinances to work in her life.
First, the Lord reminded Emma of her place in His plan, including who she was and whose she was—a daughter in His kingdom. She was invited to “walk in the paths of virtue,” a path that included ordinances that would unlock God’s power if Emma held on to her covenants.
Second, in her season of deep mourning, the Lord gave her purpose. Emma didn’t just have a front-row seat to the Restoration; she was an essential participant in the work taking place. She would be set apart “to expound scriptures, and to exhort the church.” Her time would “be given to writing, and to learning much.” Emma was given a sacred role to help prepare the Saints to worship; their songs unto the Lord would be received as prayers and “answered with a blessing upon their heads.”
Last, the Lord outlined a process of inward sanctification that would prepare Emma for exaltation. “Except thou do this,” the Lord explained to her, “where I am you cannot come.”
If we read section 25 carefully, we discover an important progression taking place. Emma would go from being a daughter in the kingdom to “elect lady” to queen. Aaronic and Melchizedek Priesthood ordinances, combined with the keeping of her covenant promises, would increase her companionship with the Spirit and with angels, empowering her to navigate her life with divine guidance. Through His divine power, God would heal her heart, enlarge her capacity, and transform her into the version of herself He knew she could become. And through the ordinances of the Melchizedek Priesthood, “the power of godliness [would be] manifest” in her life, and the Lord would part the veil so she could receive understanding from Him. This is what it looks like for God’s power to work within us.
President Russell M. Nelson taught:
“Everything that happened in [Harmony] has profound implications for your lives. The restoration of the priesthood, along with the Lord’s counsel to Emma, can guide and bless each of you. …
“… Accessing the power of God in your life requires the same things that the Lord instructed Emma and each of [us] to do.”
There were important things happening on both sides of that window in Harmony, including the revelation given to the elect lady whom the Lord had called—a revelation that would strengthen, encourage, and instruct Emma Smith, God’s daughter.
When our granddaughter Isabelle was given a name and a blessing, her father blessed her with an understanding of the priesthood; that she would continue to grow in and learn about the blessing it would provide in her life; and that her faith in the priesthood would grow as she continued to grow in understanding.
It is not often a little girl is blessed to understand the priesthood and to learn how those priesthood ordinances and covenant promises will help her to access God’s power. But I remembered Emma and thought to myself, Why not? This tiny daughter has the potential to become an elect lady in His kingdom and eventually a queen. Through His priesthood ordinances and the keeping of her covenant promises, God’s power will work in and through her to help her overcome whatever life brings and become the woman God knows she can become. This is something I want each girl in the kingdom to understand.
“Live up to your privileges.”
Learn how priesthood ordinances and covenant promises will allow God’s power to flow into your life with greater efficacy, working in and through you, empowering and equipping you to reach your full purpose and potential.
Carefully study and ponder the Aaronic and the Melchizedek Priesthood ordinances, the covenant promises we make with each, and the power of God we access through those ordinances.
Remember, it’s not only who officiates in the ordinance that matters; what the ordinance and your covenant promise unlock also deserves the focus of your attention.
Partaking of the bread and water is a weekly reminder of His power working in you to help you overcome. Wearing the garment of the holy priesthood is a daily reminder of the gift of His power working in you to help you become.
We all have access to the gift of God’s power.
Every time we partake of the sacrament.
Every time we cross the threshold of a temple.
This is the highlight of my Sabbath. This is why I cherish my temple recommend.
“In the ordinances thereof, the power of godliness is manifest.”
Of this gift I bear witness in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

When I turned in my missionary papers, my bishop challenged me to not listen to any music at all until my call came. After about a week, the music was gone, but the bad lyrics were still there. Needless to say, my taste in music has changed. I was also able to feel the Spirit more often without the music blaring all the time. Don’t fool yourself into thinking that you are immune to the traps of Satan.
Nicholas Uerkvitz, 19Hereford, Arizona

The translation of the Book of Mormon is a miracle in itself and gives further proof of the book’s divine origin. When Oliver Cowdery arrived in Harmony, Pennsylvania, on April 5, 1829, to serve as the Prophet’s scribe, only a few pages of the final text had been translated. That evening Joseph and Oliver sat down together and discussed the Prophet’s experiences long into the night. Two days later, on April 7, they commenced the translation of the work. Over the next three months, Joseph translated at an amazing rate—approximately 500 printed pages in about 60 working days.
Oliver wrote of this remarkable experience: “These were days never to be forgotten—to sit under the sound of a voice dictated by the inspiration of heaven, awakened the utmost gratitude of this bosom! Day after day I continued, uninterrupted, to write from his mouth, as he translated, with the Urim and Thummim … the history, or record, called ‘The book of Mormon’” (Messenger and Advocate, Oct. 1834, 14; see also Joseph Smith—History 1:71, note).

I just started reading the New Era and it helps me answer a lot of questions. I will share two. I wondered what Joseph Smith did with the plates after he was done with them. “What Did the Golden Plates Look Like?” (June 2007) said that he returned the golden plates to Moroni. My second question was about which group should I hang out with. One group got in trouble a lot, and the other group never got in trouble. After reading the New Era, I chose to go to the group that never got in trouble. It was hard for me because I had friends in both groups. I am happy with my choice.Sydney Y., North Carolina

My brethren and sisters, like many of you I was surprised after my marriage to discover the extent of my wife’s relatives. Having come from an extensive family myself, it was nothing new to me to be surrounded by a large family. Nevertheless, as I became acquainted with the connections into which I had married, I had my eyes opened.
I served as a Regional Representative in Wyoming. Her parents grew up there and it seemed that everyone was her relative. The same thing was evident when I was transferred to southern Utah. Her family connections are everywhere. I find them in Texas and in Arizona. We even found them in Egypt and in Saudi Arabia when we visited there two months ago. I have found myself in constant competition to find relatives of my own. I don’t know whether I should say this, but I’ve always laid a certain claim to fame from the fact that Sister LaVern Parmley, who was president of the Primary, was my cousin. But you know, Sister Bangerter arranged to have her released. And then she had Sister Barbara Smith, who is her cousin, sustained as president of the Relief Society.
Several years ago while I was conversing with a man from southern California who was visiting for the first time in Salt Lake City, he commented that the members of this Church seem to be a unified people. He mentioned that this was foreign to his experience. Even though he was a member of a church in Los Angeles and attended regularly, he rarely did more than greet the man who sat behind him and speak “good morning” to the one in front. He said, “I have no close friends in a congregation of 1,200 people.”
I responded that while I had been to Los Angeles only two or three times, I was sure that if I were to visit any one of the fifty or hundred congregations of our Church in that city, within twenty minutes I would find someone I knew or someone who was acquainted with friends of mine, or perhaps even a relative. If not that, certainly one of my wife’s relatives.
I have often been impressed with these extensive relationships which are common to those of us who are members of the Church.
We have other examples of the extensiveness of our families. Last summer we were driving through Switzerland and were passing near the town from which my grandfather came. Immediately in front of us on the highway was a truck, on the tailgate of which was written the name Bangerter and the name of the town. I turned to my wife and said, “At last I have you outnumbered. All these people are my relatives.”
In pursuing our genealogy, our family has extended many lines of our ancestry back in to the 1500s. One day I counted up the surnames on our pedigree. I found that I come from 226 known family lines. If each one of you whose family came from Switzerland or England would check your pedigree to the same extent, I am sure you would have some of the same names I do.
This is an indication that we all have a real kinship based on blood relationship.
On my pedigree I counted up the names of 650 individuals who have been identified as my direct progenitors. But I have calculated that if I could fill in all the spaces on my pedigree chart only going back to about the year 1500, there would be between 15,000 and 20,000 individuals who are my direct ancestors. And if I were to add to those names the names of their children, I would have a genealogy of between fifty and sixty thousand people, all closely related to me.
Because of the intensive efforts of my mother and other members of the family, several thousand names have been gathered of my close relatives who are dead. Following the doctrine of the Church, these names have been taken to the temple and ordinances have been performed for them so that when we meet them in the life after death we will recognize them, not only as members of our family, but also as brothers and sisters in the gospel.
I have also learned that even in a family where extensive work has been done in genealogy, the majority of this research is still ahead of us.
There are other relationships in our lives not founded so closely on blood connection.
I have listened to the testimonies of many people who have joined the Church. Invariably they speak of how they wandered in different philosophies and religions, but that when they joined the Church they found that they had connected with their true family. In a spiritual sense, they have come home.
I have had close association with a man in business who is a beloved friend. We have occasionally discussed religion; and although he has not shown interest in joining the Church, he has investigated many religious philosophies, including the Methodist Church, reincarnation, certain aspects of spiritualism, Pentecostal groups, and Christian fellowship associations. I told him one day that I was sure he would someday join the Church.
When he inquired with a smile how I knew that, I responded, “Anyone who is looking as earnestly as you are will never be satisfied until he finds the full answer. But when you do join the Church, you will feel like you have come home and you won’t be searching anymore.”
This is the feeling of the members of this Church. Since the days of Jesus Christ, the members of his Church have called each other brother and sister. This was not just happenstance—it was intended.
The Savior taught us to pray to our Father who is in heaven. He spoke of himself as the Son of his Father and frequently referred to the members of the Church as the children of God. If this doesn’t indicate family relationship, I fail to understand the meaning of those terms.
When I first went to South America as a young missionary, I noticed that the people looked like foreigners. They spoke a strange language; they had a darker skin; their hair was dark; their eyes were dark; and I felt lost among them. I did not understand until later that I was the foreigner. But now after spending many years with those people, when I now go among them, I can no longer distinguish between them and North Americans or Europeans. I feel so much at home with them that I don’t even notice what color their hair is or the tone of their skin or the color of their eyes. I don’t even notice what language they speak.
They’re my brothers and sisters. I extend my full love to them, and they return it to me with ties as close as those that I have experienced in my own family.
Now when I read the scriptures I understand better what the Savior meant. He was visiting in a certain home when a messenger came in and informed him that his mother and his brethren were waiting outside. He turned to the man, not to depreciate his family relationship but to teach a special lesson, and said, “Who is my mother? and … my brethren?” And then, turning to the group gathered before him, he said, stretching forth his hand toward his disciples, “Behold my mother and my brethren! For whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother, and sister, and mother.” (Matt. 12:48–50.)
What I experienced in South America was described by Paul in his letter to the saints in Ephesus: “Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God.” (Eph. 2:19.)
Does not this word household denote a family relationship?
From these examples I infer that God the Father, after having scattered his children abroad in the earth for their experience, desires to bring them home again. We, who, as Peter said, “are given … exceeding great and precious promises” (2 Pet. 1:4), have ourselves promised to engage in a lifetime of service in behalf of our brothers and sisters who are not so favored.
Those relatives who have gone on to the spirit world without the blessings of the gospel cannot forever be neglected. A small number of Church members have been diligent. A new era is upon us now. At this very moment, instructions are going out to the high priests of the Church to mobilize their forces so that every member of the Church can be helped to find his family and bring the lost members home again. This year we are all called upon to prepare our own personal history and to organize our living family. Even without a temple or a library close at hand, everyone can do this. Next year we will be given other challenges and assignments until gradually the members of the Church everywhere will become proficient in preparing the records of their families who have died without the gospel.
If this work is true, we may shortly expect the day when we do things for the dead as extensively as we now do them for the living. This may conceivably require many members to devote years of their time, expending substantial amounts of money, just as we do now in missionary service.
Putting the Lord’s family together on eternal terms constitutes the purpose for which the gospel was restored. This will even save nations and the world. We do it by uniting our homes and obtaining our blessings in the temple. We do it by inviting others to accept the restored gospel. We do it by extending our hands across the spiritual spaces to those many relatives who died without the gospel. Those who destroy homes commit a crime against eternity. If we do not put our family together, Moroni says the whole earth will be utterly wasted at Christ’s coming. (D&C 2:3.) May God bless us to be saviors in the Lord’s family, rather than destroyers, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Kathryn and Emily Phillips were both excited when their stake president called them to obtain the contents of the box to be placed in the cornerstone of the new Bountiful (Utah) Temple. For approximately seven months, the box was part of the family while they gathered, sorted, and prepared its contents.
““The box is sort of like a time capsule,” says 14-year-old Emily. “We put things in it that were representative of the time when the temple was built.”
Newspapers, histories of the area where the temple was built, pictures of the temple under construction, and books about the lives of both President Benson and President Hunter were included in the box, which was sealed in the cornerstone when the temple was dedicated in January.
After gathering all of the desired items to put into the box, Kathryn and Emily’s work still wasn’t finished. They did 30 presentations for Primary, Mutual, and adult groups, explaining what they had done.
““My favorite group was a group of Primary children,” says 18-year-old Kathryn. “They had raised some money and bought a set of scriptures to put in the cornerstone box. During the program, we all sang ‘I Love to See the Temple.’ I’ll never sing that song quite the same way again.”
Although the box is out of sight, it will always be close to the hearts of these sisters who are now eagerly awaiting the time when they can enter the temple.

How does someone with a degree in recreational therapy and 10 years of experience in the mental health field end up opening a dessert shop selling colorful brownies, blondies, and ice cream?
For Molly Kohrman, the answer is simple. In 2017 she took a 12-week Self-Reliance Services course on how to start and grow your own business. That course gave her the courage to pursue a dream.
“I did pastry school in Washington, D.C., and I went to culinary school in Utah,” she says. “When my stake said they were going to do self-reliance classes, I thought, ‘Maybe I should look into this. I’ve always wanted to have my own business. I’ve done other business classes. It wouldn’t hurt to learn more.’”
The course was different from any other business or pastry class Molly had taken. What made it unique, she says, was the presence of the Holy Ghost and the spirit of camaraderie among course members.
“The business discussions were good and helpful,” she says, “but it was the spiritual side tied into the business discussions that made the biggest difference for me.”
“I went through an inner turmoil,” Molly says. “I wondered if using all of my savings, time, and energy to start a business would really be the best use of my resources when, at the time, I was working in suicide prevention.”
During her first class, Molly and other attendees discussed the Lord’s desire that His Saints be successful and choose a livelihood that brings them joy. She asked the group, “How do you reconcile using the talents you’ve been given for weighty matters versus using your talents for something you just want to do?”
As the group discussed her question, Molly realized that she wouldn’t just be selling brownies. If her business proved successful, she would be employing people, she would have financial resources to donate to worthy causes, and, once her work hours slowed down, she could return to social work as a volunteer.
“It took me until that discussion to really understand. It didn’t sink in until I was in a room full of like-minded people,” she says. “We were all at different stages of the business process and at different stages of life, but the Spirit was there, and it definitely guided our discussion—in every class. I realized that if having my own business was really what I wanted, then Heavenly Father would support me.”
About halfway through her 12-week course, Molly began baking and sharing brownies with the 10 members of her self-reliance group.
“They weren’t mad at all about that, and some of them had really good feedback,” she says. “I started trying different flavors, frostings, and compositions. By the end of the class, I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted to do.”
Molly says it was vital to get together weekly with her group, hold each other accountable for weekly commitments, learn how and whom to ask for help, and direct each other to needed resources.
“During the whole time we were together, I felt blessed and supported by the people in my group,” she says. “The class helped me become aware of all the things I had to figure out.”
After opening her brownie shop in the fall of 2018, Molly quickly discovered that running a business takes more time than she had imagined. But a principle she remembers from her self-reliance class continues to bless her.
“I could not have started this business without Heavenly Father’s help,” she says. “And without the help and support of many other people, it just wouldn’t have been possible. This is such a great opportunity. I’ve wanted to do it for so long.”
And thanks to her self-reliance class, “I’ve been blessed with the chance to try.”

Several years ago, our newly married daughter and her husband began a series of moves from one place to another—graduate school, first job, and so on. These moves took them to various parts of the country. In each place the climate and soil conditions were different, but they determined they would follow the prophet’s advice and have a garden. Their first attempts at gardening were pathetic. The weeds grew much better than the vegetables. The gardens were “obedience gardens.” However, with continued effort, each year the gardens improved. They learned new techniques and developed skills. As children came to their family, each was taught to work and take responsibility in those “obedience gardens.” Now their gardens are attractive, worthwhile “survival” projects, as the family enjoys and shares the produce. They preserve the excess for later use. Besides the practical lessons they learned, they found peace and assurance in keeping the commandments. Surely the promise was fulfilled for them: the prophet’s advice had been for their good always.

Some years ago I listened intently as a man well beyond middle age told me of an experience in his family history. The widowed mother who had given birth to him and his brothers and sisters had gone to her eternal and well-earned reward. The family assembled at the home and surrounded the large dining room table. The small metal box in which mother had kept her earthly treasures was opened reverently. One by one each keepsake was brought forth. There was the wedding certificate from the Salt Lake Temple. “Oh, now Mother can be with Dad.” Then there was the deed to the humble home where each child had in turn entered upon the stage of life. The appraised value of the house had little resemblance to the worth Mother had attached to it.

Then there was discovered a yellowed envelope that bore the marks of time. Carefully the flap was opened and from inside was taken a homemade valentine. Its simple message, in the handwriting of a child, read, “I love you, Mother.” Though she was gone, by what she held sacred mother taught yet another lesson. A silence permeated the room, and every member of the family made a pledge not only to remember, but also to honor mother.

We had been struggling with our family scripture study. Getting our children to pay attention was difficult, so we tried this technique as a family. My husband and I took turns reading general conference talks out loud to the family, and when we got to a scripture, we called it out. When our children found it, everyone marked it and then one of them read it. As we did so, our kids were poised on the edge of their seats, scriptures and pencils in hand. When we ended, they said, “Oh, please, can’t we do just one more scripture?” We finished our scripture study by singing a hymn. As we got ready to sing the closing song, we showed our children how they could look up scriptures in the back of the hymnbook. They found one of the scriptures we had marked, and we sang a song that reinforced the gospel principle we had studied. It was truly meaningful scripture study!
Donna Macurdy Nielson, Virginia, USA

In St. Johns, New Brunswick, Joseph found a schooner captain willing to take him across to Nova Scotia for working on board en route. While crossing in a storm the young missionary saw what looked like a star and immediately told the captain, who recognized it as the Digby Lighthouse. The captain was barely able to change course in time to avoid the rocks and make it through the narrow passageway (called “Digby Gut”) and on into port at Digby (1). But now let Elder Millett again speak for himself, this 19-year-old just arrived in the field:

After wandering spiritually in her college years, Amanda Freebairn of the United States took the small step of praying, which led her to follow a prompting to visit her local temple grounds. “Feeling the Spirit there rekindled my faith,” she says. Returning to church and accepting a calling to teach Primary deepened her faith, and she kept taking steps that brought her to fully embrace the gospel. Along the way, Amanda observes, “I found answers to the questions I so desperately needed.”

If you’ve seen news clips on TV of violent conflict in Northern Ireland, chances are they were filmed at the bottom of the road where 16-year-old Sara Magee lives.
When violence breaks out, Sara and her family, “just shut the doors, pull the curtains, and keep out of the way,” says Sara. “Bottle and stone throwing carries on until the police arrive, firing a round of plastic bullets; then both sides turn around and fight them. Apart from that, it’s just like living anywhere else.”
Sara sees more strife than many because her school, where she is among the top ten students in her class, is right next to the Armagh Courthouse, where political prisoners are tried. “We have to go through plenty of fire drills, as it is a prime spot for bomb scares,” she says.
Also, her father, Portadown Ward’s bishop, as the town’s Chief Fireman, is often on callout to riot fires or burning vehicles.
But still, Sara’s family manages to maintain a normal, happy life. Since their ward has no pianist, left-handed Sara is learning to play the right-hand melody for Primary and sacrament meeting. Her true musical love is dancing, though, both at stake activities and in local talent shows, contests, and festivals.

Alison knew it was going to be a bad day. The world outside was gray and drizzly. Mommy told her she had to clean her room. And—worst of all—there was a big bowl of cold oatmeal on the table that she still had to eat.
“I wish it was tomorrow already,” she mumbled.
Mommy looked up from her work. “Oh, things aren’t that bad, are they?”
Alison nodded without saying anything more. “Well, then,” Mommy said, “why don’t we play the thank-you game? Find a reason to be grateful for everything you can. No complaining is allowed. If you can do it the whole day, I’ll give you a surprise.”
“That’s a funny game,” said Alison.
“I’ll help you begin. Why are you grateful for oatmeal?”
Alison thought a moment. “I guess it’s better than a bowl of bugs to eat.”
“Well, that’s a start,” Mommy chuckled.
Alison gobbled down her oatmeal, to get it over with. “I’m grateful I have orange juice to help wash the oatmeal down,” she said.
Then she went to her room. It was a mess! How can I be grateful for a messy room? she wondered. “I know—I’m grateful I have these toys to play with.” She hummed as she put them all away.
The drizzle outside turned into a freezing rain that tap-tap-tapped against the window. Alison pressed her nose against the frosty glass.
I’m grateful the rain comes so that the flowers don’t get thirsty, she thought.
When her room was tidy, she got out her modeling clay. She made funny shapes with it and squished it through her fingers. “I’m grateful for things that feel good in my hands,” she giggled.
Alison was having a busy day. Soon her eyelids began to grow heavy.
“I think it’s nap time,” Mommy said.
Alison was going to complain, but she remembered that it wasn’t allowed. She climbed onto her bed and reached for her stuffed rabbit. “I’m grateful I have Charlie to snuggle with,” she told Mommy.
The thank-you game got easier and easier. It wasn’t turning out to be such a bad day, after all!
That night Mommy looked pleased. “You played the game really well, Alison,” she said. “Here’s your surprise.” She gave Alison a pink ribbon for her hair, along with her usual hug and kiss.
Alison smiled. “It turned out to be a really nice day,” she said. “I’m grateful for surprises and hugs and kisses and you!”

At the end of a long overseas assignment, my wife, Lesa, and I stepped into an airport terminal in preparation for just one more flight—a red-eye—to get home. As we stood with many others moving a step at a time in long lines, we could feel the growing anxiety of fellow travelers worried about making flights, getting through passport and visa review, and successfully navigating security checks.
We finally reached a station occupied by a customs officer who seemed unaffected by the high levels of stress and anxiety in the room. She almost mechanically, with no eye contact, reached for my documents, confirmed my picture, thumbed through one page after another, and finally stamped my passport with a heavy thud.
She then reached for Lesa’s papers. Devoid of emotion, head down and focused on her work, she methodically thumbed through the pages with an expert eye, focusing on the details of the documents in front of her. We were somewhat surprised when she suddenly stopped, lifted her head, and made eye contact with Lesa in a deliberate and warm upward gaze. With a tender smile, she gently stamped Lesa’s passport and handed the documents back to her. My wife smiled in return, accepted the documents, and exchanged warm parting words.
“What just happened?” I asked incredulously.
Lesa then showed me what the agent had seen—a small card with the image of the Savior. It had accidentally slipped from Lesa’s purse into the folds of her passport. This is what the customs officer had found. This is what had changed her whole demeanor.
Grace and Truth, by Simon Dewey, courtesy of altusfineart.com, © 2025, used with permission
This small picture of the Savior connected the hearts of two otherwise disconnected strangers. It transformed the impersonal to personal, capturing the beauty, the miracle, and the reality of the Light of Jesus Christ. For the remainder of that day and often since, I have contemplated that sweet, simple moment with awe and have rejoiced in the glorious effect of the Light of Christ upon God’s children.

At school, my chemistry teacher wanted to promote honesty in her class. She told us that we would check our own tests and report our own scores. As I checked my answers, I was tempted to add one single point to my score. I only needed that extra point to pass the test. I sat there for a while, wondering what to do.
While I sat there thinking, I suddenly remembered a quote from President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) that I had placed on the back of my identification card: “What a destructive thing is a little dishonesty. … The institution may be able to stand the loss of money, but the individual cannot afford the loss of self-respect” (“I Believe,” Ensign, Aug. 1992, 5). Underneath that quote was the phrase: “If the Savior stood beside me, would I do the things I do?”
I felt peaceful and happy when I knew what I was supposed to do. I didn’t change my failing score, but I knew that I had passed a more important test—the honesty test—and I was proud of the choice I made.
Natalie A., Philippines

I heard the garage door open, and I knew what he would tell me. I lay quietly in bed. My father’s figure appeared in the doorway.
“Tracie, are you awake?” My heart was breaking as I felt my dad sit on the edge of my bed. “Lynn and I are going to get married,” he said. I was silent as he tried to explain.
“This does not mean that I love your mom any less. I know it will be hard, but I need you to be a good example to your sisters.” His sentences swirled around my mind, blurring into a mass of tears, weighing harder and harder on my heart.
“Good night, Tracie. I love you.”
As he left, my eyes overflowed with tears. My mind wouldn’t stop spinning. Why did my dad have to get married again? We were doing fine. Grandma didn’t mind helping us out. Mom wouldn’t want him to remarry. I didn’t want a stepsister my age. I have only one mom. I will be loyal!
I was eight years old when my mother died of cancer, and it changed me. I had always been shy, but my mother’s death caused me to turn completely inward. My friends distanced themselves from me. Home was my only safe place, and in it I grew up quickly as I became the part-time caretaker of my two little sisters. I must have blocked some things out because there’s not much I remember. I do know, however, that I became a hardened little girl.
It was during that stage that my dad told me he was inviting Lynn and her daughters to our house for a visit. They were family friends, so my little sisters were excited to play with Lynn’s two girls, Meghan and Paige. I hated the idea from the start. I suspected my dad’s intentions, and I decided I was opposed to the idea. I was determined that I would not forget my mother.
I felt betrayed that my dad would even consider remarriage. How could Mom’s memory live on with another woman in the house? I thought all my dad’s love would go to Lynn, and she would try to take Mom’s place.
I was wrong, and I am constantly amazed at how my views over the years have changed. It has been a long, hard process, but it has contributed a great deal to my character and has helped sculpt me into the person I am.
The first thing I needed to do was learn to love Lynn. I thought she was a nice lady, but that was where it stopped. She tried to tell me what to do, and even worse than that, she loved hugs and kisses. I did not want to kiss her and went to great efforts, at least at first, to avoid it.
Lynn and my mom are about as different as two people could be. They were actually best friends, and where one had strengths, the other had weaknesses. I have many memories of my mother waking up at five in the morning to read her scriptures and bake bread. She was friendly, but at the same time a bit shy. Lynn was the bold, outgoing one who loved talking and meeting people. This was something I had to deal with; she was just so different.
I think it was these differences, though, that made it possible for me to love her. I had respected Lynn from the beginning because she was my father’s new wife, and I wasn’t a rebellious child. But it was different when I started to love her. I saw that she was good to us. She drove us places and helped us with our problems. It was nice to have a woman in the house, especially during my early teenage years. She made my dad more happy and relaxed than he’d been in a long time, and it was nice not to have so much responsibility for my sisters. But there was still a wall between us. I loved and appreciated her as a person, but she wasn’t my mom.
Over time, Lynn’s role in my life changed. I matured, and Lynn became a great help to me. She loved it when I talked to her. Sometimes I would just plop down on her bed and talk to her for a long time. I really started to trust Lynn, to depend on her.
I now consider Lynn my second mother. The wall is gone. I used to think if I loved Lynn, my love for my mom would decrease; but just the opposite has happened. I love them both and appreciate their strengths and the many things they have taught me. I don’t compare them since they are both so loving and kind and have so many wonderful qualities. It took me a long time to admit I love Lynn and my stepsisters, but since I did, I have realized that love is sweet and powerful.
I love both my moms, and I am proud I am a little like both of them. I feel at peace, because I know the Lord’s plan for my family has been fulfilled. I have grown so much through these experiences and rejoice that I have learned to accept different people, to express myself to others, and most importantly that I now cherish a person I vowed I would never love.