Gospel Story Finder

I learned the significance of this early in my career. After finishing my education at Stanford Law School, I focused on working for a particular law firm. No members of the Church were associated with the firm, but its lawyers were individuals of character and ability. After a morning of interviews, the most senior partner and two other partners took me to lunch. The senior partner inquired if I would like a prelunch alcoholic drink and later if I would like wine. In both cases I declined. And the second time, I informed him that I was an active Latter-day Saint and did not drink alcoholic beverages.

I received an offer of employment from the firm, and a few months later the senior partner told me that the offer of alcoholic beverages was a test. He noted that my résumé made it clear that I had served a Latter-day Saint mission. He had determined that he would hire me only if I was true to the teachings of my own church. He considered it a significant matter of character and integrity.

When the missionaries came to the student council of the Olympus High School Seminary in Salt Lake City, Utah, and asked for some proselyting help, Lissa Naumann suggested that they use this method. She had been introduced to it in a Sunday School class and had been so impressed that ever since she had been giving away copies of the Book of Mormon to close friends, strangers she met on trips, and even customers at her part-time job. She was put in charge of the project along with Matt Carpenter, who handled publicity. Lissa got busy buying copies of the Book of Mormon, preparing instructional handouts and displays, and cutting out several hundred sheets of Book of Mormon-sized paper for testimonies. During part of each class period for three consecutive days, the spiritual representative in each class explained the program to the students, sold them copies of the Book of Mormon, provided paper, took their pictures, and gave them time to write their testimonies. It was suggested that each student prayerfully select a friend and write the testimony to him or her personally. The book could then be given in person or delivered by the missionaries. If any of the students did not feel they had any friends who would accept a book, they could address their testimony to “Dear Friend,” and the missionaries would see that an investigator received it.
Some 500 copies of the Book of Mormon were purchased under this program, and a number of people are being taught by the missionaries as a result. At the outset of the program, the council determined that if one person came to know that the Book of Mormon was true, the program would be a success. Bob’s conversion fulfilled that goal and caused some internal rejoicing in the hearts of seminary students as well as some very external whoops of joy in the seminary halls and classrooms. But Bob wasn’t really the only convert. A number of faithful young members of the Church gained a much stronger testimony of the Book of Mormon as they read through it in preparation for writing the letters to be placed in their gift copies.

“I was sitting in my room late one Sunday evening with nothing to do, so I decided to scan through my Personal Progress book. I was looking for a task that only required reading a whole bunch of scriptures and writing something in my journal so that I could have it done fast. I found such a task under Individual Worth.
“I had looked up only a few scriptures when I came to Jeremiah 1:5: ‘Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations.’
“I immediately began to cry because I knew that scripture was true. That one verse testified to me that my Heavenly Father knows each person on this earth. I am very grateful for the new Personal Progress program. It has helped me love and appreciate the gospel more.”Heather Hansen, 13Ridgefield Ward, Vancouver Washington West Stake

Kinsey watched through the car window as soggy brown hills zoomed past. Patches of snow clung to the ground. Tiny green leaves dotted the barren trees, not quite ready for spring.
“Why does the drive to Grandma’s house take so long?” Kinsey complained.
“Just a few more minutes,” Dad said.
“Why don’t you play a game?” Mom suggested.
“I already played the alphabet game and the license-plate game,” Kinsey said. “I colored pictures in my notebook and made paper animals. I’m bored!”
Kinsey pressed her nose against the car window. She glanced at her little brother, Taylor, asleep in his car seat. Even though she was bored, Kinsey was too excited to sleep. She hadn’t seen Grandma in so long. Grandma would have new books for her to read. They would gather at Aunt Michelle’s house for a family dinner with all the cousins. Most of all, Kinsey looked forward to a whole weekend of spending time with Grandma.
“Oh! It’s already started,” Mom said as she turned on the radio.
A clear, calm voice came from the speakers. Kinsey sat a little taller. She closed her eyes and tried to think. Where had she heard that voice before? Suddenly, she remembered.
“I know that voice!” she said with a smile. “It’s the prophet!”
Kinsey loved the prophet’s voice. It was strong and peaceful and kind. When the prophet spoke, it felt as if he were talking right to her. She listened closely to his words.
The prophet announced new temples being built in faraway parts of the world. Kinsey thought about all the people who would now be closer to a beautiful temple.
The prophet talked about missionaries. Kinsey remembered the letters they wrote in Primary for an older couple from their ward serving a mission in Slovenia.
The prophet talked about being kind to others. Kinsey thought about how she had been trying hard to be kind to her brother, even when he grabbed her toys or scribbled with her markers.
Finally, the prophet talked about families. Kinsey thought about how much she loved visiting her family at general conference time.
“We’re here!” Dad announced.
Kinsey looked out the window. How did they get to Grandma’s so fast?
“Let’s hurry inside so we don’t miss any more of conference,” Mom said.
Kinsey ran up the steps and rang the doorbell to Grandma’s house. The drive hadn’t been boring after all!

Stan Chidester sits in the front room looking at walls covered with his younger brother’s paintings. There are impressionistic watercolors, dramatic abstracts, and intricately executed montages. He looks at the walls, then at his brother sitting calmly in his wheelchair, and says, “Well, he’s 23 and has been into art most of his life. The past few years he’s started to get good. Maybe by the time he’s 24 …” He purposely lets the rest of the sentence trail away.
Brad, the artist, listens to his brother’s humorous critique with a half-smile on his face. Obviously, they know each other very well.
Stan goes on, “I’m his worst critic.” But later the older brother reveals that he has known for a long time how talented his brother truly is. “I have one of the paintings Brad did a long time ago. I was looking at it the other day. I think it’s still my favorite.”
Brad Chidester of Sandy, Utah, has been confined to a wheelchair most of his life with muscular dystrophy. As a child he was the Utah state muscular dystrophy poster child. His artistic abilities were apparent from an early age. Like many little boys, he loved trucks. He was always doodling and vehicles with wheels were his favorite subjects.
His love of drawing has given him a chance to cheer others and has helped him gain some interesting friends as well. When Brad was 11, he was watching a car race on television. He was stunned to see a car crash and burn in the pits. One of the men severely injured was Derrick Walker, the manager of a racing team.
“I drew a race car and sent it to him in the hospital as a get-well card. After that, he sent me a thank-you letter. We’ve been friends ever since,” says Brad. That simple correspondence has blossomed into a special relationship. Since then, Walker and Roger Penske, another racing friend, have flown Brad and a guest to major races each year. Brad’s thoughtfulness as a young boy proved that caring and concern are not limited to the physically able.
In high school, one of Brad’s art teachers introduced him to watercolors. That turned out to be Brad’s medium. “I loved it and just stayed with it,” said Brad. “Then one of the secretaries bought one of my landscapes. That got me really excited. I saw I could do something that could earn a little money.”
Brad went on to be named the Sterling Scholar for Utah (a program for outstanding scholastic achievement) in visual arts. He studied graphic arts and began to have his work accepted for showing in galleries. Although he is still a struggling artist, the demand for his work is growing.
To keep track of ideas and things that interest him, Brad and his family take a camera wherever they go. He has someone take a picture of whatever catches his artistic eye. He has also expanded his style. For a long time, he drew realistically. Over the years, he has branched out. “I always thought anybody could do abstract art,” says Brad. “When you get into it, you realize how hard it is. Now it’s one of my favorite things to do.”
Brad is cared for and supported by his three older brothers and his father. His mother died two years ago. Although he appreciates all his family does for him, when asked what one thing he would change about his life, Brad says, “I’d like to be more independent.” Not an unusual sentiment for someone Brad’s age no matter what their physical condition. Another step Brad is taking for himself is preparing to go to the temple.
Although Brad is a talented artist, he suffers his share of rejection. “I’ve had a lot of rejection letters from galleries,” says Brad. “But you can’t let that bother you. You have to keep going.” It’s obvious that Brad has discovered the secret to developing one’s God-given talents. He says, “If you’re really into something, pursue it to the fullest extent.” For a young man whose physical limitations would give him plenty of excuses not to try, he has taken his own advice. He is a true artist.
Brad remembers his high school days and the things people did for him that helped and the things that hurt. Here are a few of Brad’s suggestions if you meet someone with a handicap.
“Some kids seemed afraid they would hurt my feelings, so they would just avoid me. I liked it when someone tried to get to know me.”
“Some people feel sorry for me and try too hard to be nice. I prefer it when they treat me like a regular person. Don’t be afraid; yet don’t go overboard.”
“It bothers me when kids are asking me questions and their parents shush them. Little kids are great.”
“The best way is when people talk with me. That’s the best way to learn how to act around someone with a handicap. Ask them.”

I first encountered this principle in high school. I considered myself to be unattractive, and so it was easier for others to think of me as unattractive—a vicious circle. But I had the fortune to acquire two friends, Janice and Jim. Janice thought that I had a wonderful personality, and it was easy for me to be pleasant around her. Eventually I found it easier to get along with other people because she had instilled confidence in me.
Her faith in my desirability helped me improve my grooming. I confided to her that I had always wanted to perm my hair so that it would be curly all over, but I was afraid that the other kids would make fun of it. She was so enthusiastic about this idea that I permed my hair and loved it. Janice also never saw the 15 pounds that I needed to lose; and because she helped me think of myself as thin, I lost the weight.
Jim was also a good friend. He was not interested in me romantically, but he still thought that I was attractive. When we became friends, I stopped wondering if the dresses I was buying looked similar enough to what everyone else was wearing and began to consider if Jim would like them. Because Jim was a good enough friend to let me know when I looked good, I gained confidence in my taste and I became able to buy and do things because I liked them. Because these two friends had patience, confidence, and the ability to see the Dulcinea in me, I have become happy with myself.

Sometime back a mother took her son, Freddie, to the LDS hospital for an operation. The boy was operated on and all went well. That evening at 7:00 p.m., Freddie’s mother went to the head nurse and said, “I would like to leave now, and I would like you to check on Freddie every half hour.”

The nurse said, “Well, we will check on him regularly, but we don’t have time to check on him every half hour.”

The mother said, “If you will not check on him every half hour, then I will not leave. I will stay here all night.”

The nurse said, “You don’t need to do that; I personally will check on him every half hour.”

So the mother left and went home. The hospital has a central station and two long wings. Freddie was in the last room. At 7:30 p.m. the nurse made her way down the long hallway and put her head in the door and said, “Freddie, is everything all right?”

He responded, “Yes, everything is fine.”

She walked down the hall and it was almost 8:00. She turned around and went back to Freddie’s room and said, “Freddie, are you all right?”

He said, “I’m doing okay.”

She made the long trip back to her central station. She did this at 8:30, 9:00, 9:30, and 10:00. Finally she thought, “I am not getting any work done. I’ve got to change systems of checking on Freddie.”

She decided to use the intercom. She pushed the button and said, “Freddie, are you all right?” Not a sound.

“Freddie, are you okay?” Nothing. “Freddie, are you all right—speak to me!”

And a very timid voice said, “Yes, wall, what do you want?”

I think as we talk about unemployment—and Bishop Peterson discussed it last time and I this morning—we do not think we’re talking to the wall; but repetition is a good teacher.

Brian R.
Twelve-year-old Brian R. of Arizona, USA, was preparing to pass the sacrament for the first time. He didn’t want to make a mistake, so he asked the other Aaronic Priesthood holders in his ward to explain things to him.
“They were great,” he says. “They told me where to stand, where to go, and how to pass the trays.”
But even more important, they reminded him to be reverent. “We need to remember the Savior as we pass the sacrament,” Brian says. “If we are reverent, it helps others to remember Him too.”
Brian learned that others are happy to help him to understand his duties and to learn to do them well. “Just ask,” he says. “Moving from Primary into Young Men is easier than you think.”

About 10 years ago my wife and I spent most of one Sunday hosting a young graduate student from Harvard University. This young man had come to Salt Lake City to see if the Church was “for real.” His parents, who lived in New England, had told him they had taken the missionary lessons and were planning to be baptized. He asked them to hold off until he came to Salt Lake City. During his tour of Temple Square and other Church facilities, he said that he wanted to speak with someone who also had a scientific and technical background. My name was suggested, and I subsequently received a telephone call.
At the time, our schedule was tight, and the only day we had to visit with this young man was on Sunday. We told him that if he wanted to see what Mormon life was like, we would be happy to have him spend the day with us. We had an interesting and enjoyable time with the young man. We took him to two sacrament meetings that day, one where one of our sons and his wife were speaking and the other where we were the speakers. As we entered the building for our speaking assignment, we were met by the bishop, who quickly took us to his office for a prayer meeting. All of us, including our young friend, knelt around the bishop’s desk, and the bishop offered a humble, unrehearsed prayer.
From the bishop’s office we entered the chapel. We introduced the young man to a young couple and he sat with them during the meeting. My wife and I spoke about the Book of Mormon, which was ideal, especially for the young man, because he had been challenged to read the Book of Mormon.
After the meeting, we took him to our home, where my wife served him one of her delicious dinners. The balance of our time was spent in sharing with him our testimonies of the Book of Mormon, of Jesus Christ, and of the Restoration of His Church. The next day the young man returned to Boston.
We later had the opportunity to speak to his parents. He had reported to them that indeed the Mormon Church is “for real.” He also mentioned to them that through his study of the Book of Mormon he was able to remove the doubts he had about Jesus Christ.
It is our understanding that the young man claimed to be an agnostic, meaning that he would have thought it to be impossible to know about the nature or existence of God except through direct experience. Fortunately, his visit to Salt Lake City gave him firsthand experience and the opportunity to observe a day in the life of a family belonging to the Church. He could not, however, have come to the conclusion that Jesus is the Christ only through his observations.
As he concluded his reading of the Book of Mormon, he would have found the most important key to knowing whether or not the Book of Mormon is true, whether or not Jesus is the Christ, and, in fact, he would have discovered the ultimate key to knowing the truth of all things. Moroni in his concluding chapter stated, “By the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things” (Moro. 10:5).

Jason and Alanea Hanna faced many financial questions when Jason lost his job. Should they relocate and find another job? Should they try to find a job where they were currently living? After considering several options, they asked the most important question of all: “What would the Lord have us do?”
“We studied talks by prophets and apostles on topics like debt, budgeting, and saving to try to figure out what the Lord wanted us to do,” Alanea explains. “We knew that the Lord’s plan was the best plan and that we would be blessed if we followed it.”
After prayer and contemplation, Jason and Alanea both decided to return to college and finish their bachelor’s degrees. They took out minimal student loans to pay for their education, and both worked full-time to provide for their other expenses. They coordinated their work schedules to ensure that one of them was home with their children. They budgeted carefully, spending their money on the essentials and eliminating fast food, cable TV, and new clothes. Jason even rode his bike to school and work to limit the costs of gasoline and car insurance.
Now Jason works as an engineer. Alanea also completed her degree and is currently fulfilling her responsibilities as a full-time mother of five children. They still live within their means, budget carefully, pay tithing, and live according to the financial counsel of Church leaders. “We’re grateful for the trial and the experience,” Alanea says. “It ended up being a great blessing in our lives and taught us that the Lord will always bless us if we are obedient.”

From the time my husband and I started our family, our choices about how many children to have and when to have them have often come into public question. The decision to have our first child was not a logical one, at least not according to the standards of the world. We were still in our early 20s. Having just recently graduated from college, my husband was searching for a “real job.” We had a meager income and no insurance. Still, the impression was undeniable that spirits eagerly waited to come to our family, so we proceeded with faith.
We were blessed with a healthy pregnancy, a beautiful baby girl, and a stable job with a career track. I was grateful to be able to stay at home with my daughter and the three children who followed. All were brought into our family after strong divine impressions that the time was right, but that didn’t make it easy to explain to others why we would have so many children so close together.

I recall listening at length to a couple who sat across the desk from me. There was bitterness between them. I know that at one time their love was deep and true. But each had developed a habit of speaking of the faults of the other. Unwilling to forgive the kind of mistakes we all make, and unwilling to forget them and live above them with forbearance, they had criticized one another until the love they once knew had been smothered. It had turned to ashes with divorce. Now there is only loneliness and recrimination. I am satisfied that, had there been even a small measure of repentance and forgiveness, they would still be together, enjoying the companionship that had so richly blessed their earlier years.

A new convert to the Church recently shared this story. “I was in and out of enforced confinement most of my teen years. It wasn’t so bad being there because the food was pretty good, and we were treated all right. But it did get boring, so when anyone had any reading material, funny books, magazines, or anything, we would trade our food for a chance to borrow those items. One day I saw a fellow with a nice, thick book. I knew it would take a long time to read, so I offered him my pork chops, my potatoes, and all my main course food items for a week. He accepted my offer and loaned me the book. As I read it, I knew I was reading something very special and very true. The book for which I had sacrificed my food was titled the Book of Mormon. When I had a chance, I found the missionaries, changed my habits, and am now finding a new way of life. I love that book for which I traded my food.”
Here was an unusual but worthwhile sacrifice with rewarding results. This convert indicated that the more time he spends with this book, the greater his love becomes for the truths he is finding between its covers.

When I was dating, I was seeking an eternal companion who would be a noble father. Since I grew up without that example in my childhood, it was harder for me to know all the characteristics that a noble earthly father should have. I was disappointed that my patriarchal blessing did not give more detailed direction about the person Heavenly Father wanted me to marry. It said only that I should seek someone who could take me to the temple. But even this seemingly simple instruction was challenged. Although I had some positive dating experiences, I often worried that either such a man did not truly exist or I was meant to suffer endless trials of the heart.
Despite my experience-driven anxiety, I continued to pray for a husband who would be a righteous father for my children, who would love them and stay present in their lives. Like my faithful mother, I knew that no matter what happened, I would be able to lean on my Eternal Father for support.
To my surprise and delight, my prayers were answered on Heavenly Father’s perfect timetable. It is healing for me to observe my husband’s loving example of what a father should be. I’m grateful he follows the examples set by prophets and apostles and that he chooses to cherish and love me unselfishly. His example as a loving husband also blesses our children. My heart is full of gratitude for his faithfulness through trials, his example of hard work, his worthiness to exercise the priesthood, and the pure, unwavering love he demonstrates as a young father.

After a lifetime of practice and patience together, what will your last earthly threshold look like? Will it look and feel something like John and Therissa Clarks’? In 1921 John Haslem Clark of Manti, Utah, wrote what became his last journal entry:
“The folks have been here today, but have gone to their homes. The clatter of racing feet, the laughter and babble of tongues have ceased. We are alone, We two. We two whom destiny has made one. Long ago, it has been sixty years since we met under the June trees. I kissed you first. How shy and afraid was your girlhood. Not any woman on earth or in heaven could be to me what you are. I would rather you were here, woman, with your gray hair, than any fresh blossom of youth. Where you are is home. Where you are not is homesickness. As I look at you I realize that there is something greater than love, although love is the greatest thing in earth. It is loyalty. For were I driven away in shame you would follow. If I were burning in fever your cool hand would soothe me. With your hand in mine may I pass and take my place among the saved of Heaven. Being eight years the eldest—and as the years went by and I felt that the time of parting might be near—it was often the drift of our thought and speech: how could either of us be left alone. Alone, after living together for 56 years. I scarcely dared think of it and though a bit selfish comforted myself thinking [that] according to our age I would not be the one left alone.”
Another handwriting then appears later on the same page. It is Therissa’s voice, gently closing John’s journal:
“Almost two years and a half since the last writing, and its following events are so sad, so heartbreaking for this, his life’s companion that this pen has been laid down many times ere this record is made. Loss and loneliness [are] ever present and will be with me to the end. … Will time soften this sadness, will I be able to leave the Old Home and not feel that he is waiting for me, calling me? I am only content at home where I feel that he is watching over me, his presence always with me.
“On March 11, 1923, John Haslem Clark passed away after an illness of only one week. He seemed so like himself, talking and active. We had no thought that the end was near until he passed into unconsciousness a few hours before his death. Oh, may we all be as clean and pure, ready to go before our Maker.”10
We do not know the details of John and Therissa’s life as they crossed over the thresholds of their days. But we do know how 56 years of daily conversations finally shaped the kind of people they became, the kind of love they knew.

On my office wall is a quote from Anne Morrow Lindbergh: “My life cannot implement in action the demands of all the people to whom my heart responds” (Gift from the Sea [1955], 124). For me, it is a needed reminder. A few years ago, already weary, I foolishly went late one afternoon to two different hospitals to give blessings to three individuals who were dying of cancer. Not only was I worn out, but worse, the last person really didn’t get much from me. Things had not been “done in wisdom and order.” I was running faster than my supply of strength and energy on that occasion. Those blessings would have been better given over two or three days, and I would have had more empathy and energy.

“Read the scriptures again? I’ve already done that for two years and made it through each of the standard works four times!”
Thus wrote a returned missionary after I challenged my institute class to read and ponder the scriptures twenty minutes each day for a month.

Those reactions justified my confidence in the scriptures. The returned missionary who had resented the assignment wrote, “I have rediscovered an exciting adventure. I have once again astonished myself with the wonder of learning and understanding the gospel as it has been presented to us by the prophets. The gospel has become even more relevant in these last few weeks than ever before. I understand more clearly that faith and the strength of one’s testimony are things that vary from day to day and must be kept current.”

Adam Martin, a ward Sunday School president in Calgary, Alberta, Canada, says he appreciates suggestions from the ward council. “The Relief Society president or the elders quorum president will say, ‘We’d like teachers to focus on this,’ so we bring that up in teacher council [meeting],” he says.
When teacher council meetings first started, teachers weren’t sure what to expect, so he extended lots of personal invitations and introduced training materials available at teaching.lds.org. “Now the ball is rolling,” he says. “They know it’s a place to discuss what’s going on.”
One recent meeting focused on following the Spirit. “We talked about preparing well but not worrying about covering everything,” he says. “One sister said she had always felt she needed to talk about every item in her lesson plan. You could see the light go on for her when we talked about following inspiration as you guide a discussion.”

Ann had spent months crocheting, undoing, and crocheting again. She had wanted the yellow booties to be perfect.
More than once she had thrown them aside. Mama had always picked them up and encouraged her to start again. “A few puckers won’t matter,” Mama had said.
Ann sighed. If she had known that the baby would be a girl, she would have chosen pink. But Mama had said, “Yellow is a pretty color, nice for either a boy or a girl.”
A car pulling into the driveway interrupted Ann’s thoughts. She rushed to the door to see if it was Dad bringing Mama and the new baby home from the hospital. It was! Ann ran out to the car. She tried to hug Mama, only to be told to be careful of the new baby.
The baby’s blanket was pink. Pink for a girl, of course. Ann wished again that she hadn’t chosen yellow. The blanket loosened, and a pink sleeper showed. The baby would never wear the yellow booties!
“Here, let me take her,” Dad said, reaching for the baby. Then he helped Mama from the car.
They made a big fuss over the baby as they went up the walk. Dad worried that the blanket was too tight. Mama laughed at her cute button nose. Ann felt ignored as she tagged along behind them.
In the house, Mama sat down with the baby. “Come meet your new sister,” she said to Ann, moving the pink blanket from the baby’s face.
Ann looked at the baby.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Mama asked, fingering a tiny hand.
“She’s pretty,” Ann said in a low voice. But she really thought that the baby looked red and wrinkled like an old apple she had once found in the back of the fridge.
The doorbell rang. Grandma and Grandpa gave Ann only hurried hugs. They had presents for the baby. Grandma held up a dainty pink dress.
“And look at these,” said Grandpa. “I chose them myself.” He took the lid off a box and showed a pair of tiny pink satin slippers.
Ann wished again that she hadn’t made the yellow booties. She could have bought beautiful satin slippers for less than the yarn had cost. She thought of the booties, puckered and ugly, on her dresser.
Friends and neighbors came. Aunts and uncles and cousins dropped by. Everybody brought presents. There were little shoes and lovely dresses in an array of pink, lavender, and blue. But Ann didn’t see one yellow dress.
Maybe I should throw the yellow booties away, Ann thought. They don’t go with anything, and nobody will miss them. She went to her room. The booties weren’t on her dresser, where she was sure that she had left them. Everything in the room looked wavy through the tears in her eyes. She wiped her wet cheeks.
Grandma came in and declared, “Here you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Your mama wants to see you in her bedroom.”
Ann went to see what Mama wanted. The baby was kicking on the bed. She was wearing slightly puckered yellow booties.
“She’s wearing my booties!”
“Of course she is,” said Mama. “I thought she should wear them home from the hospital. They’re her most precious gift—handmade with love by her big sister!”
Ann really looked at her new sister for the first time. How could she have thought the baby was wrinkled like a forgotten apple in the fridge? Her skin was as pink and soft as a new apple blossom!
“Dear, would you go with Dad to the store tomorrow and choose a beautiful yellow dress to match the booties?” Mama asked. “She needs something special to be blessed in.”
Something special to be blessed in, Ann thought to herself. And yellow, to go with her yellow booties. A big smile covered her face as she watched the baby give a last sleepy kick. The yellow booties do look nice.
“Yellow is going to be her best color,” Mama said. “You could even buy a little yellow bow for her hair. Would you like that?”
“I’d love that,” Ann said.

The youth were happy to meet other Church members who shared the challenge of being only one among hundreds of people of other faiths in their schools and communities. They also found other things they had in common.
Ioana Ene, 14, of the Victoria Branch, and Amalia Epure, 15, of the Arad Branch, had never met before the conference but became friends almost instantly. Amalia investigated the Church for two years. She wanted very much to be baptized, but initially her parents would not give her permission. Now that she is a member, there are still challenges having a nonmember family. Ioana’s cheerful spirit and kindness helped Amalia to see another side to things. Ioana’s siblings are all members of the Church. The two girls spent a lot of their free time at the conference roaming the woods and talking about their families. They came to the conclusion that all families face challenges, whether they are Latter-day Saints or not.