Gospel Story Finder

Something else also keeps Camila and Abel busy: Being prepared. Eight-year-old Camila was recently baptized and confirmed, and 11-year-old Abel is looking forward to receiving the Aaronic Priesthood soon. Both say it is important to prepare carefully for these steps in life.
“I wanted to be baptized,” says Camila, “because I wanted to feel closer to Heavenly Father and be strong in the Church.”
Talking with the bishop has helped too. “When I met with the bishop,” says Camila, “he said I should ask Heavenly Father if I should be baptized. So I prayed and asked God, and He told me yes. I felt the answer in my soul.”
Camila and Abel feel that all of the preparation has been worth it. “When my father baptized me,” says Camila, “I felt joy. When he gave me the gift of the Holy Ghost, I felt as if I were in a temple. The Holy Ghost helps me feel at peace and come closer to God. He helps me know right from wrong.”

The second day of hiking began with another vertical climb. Alana, a small, first-year Beehive, bounded up the steep wall like a mountain goat. A half mile farther down the trail three whistle blasts pierced the air. An emergency! Rochelle was sitting, white-faced, by the side of the path. She had suffered a bad bronchitis attack.
“Let’s split up her pack.”
“What can I carry?”
Concerned girls swarmed about the pack until all the gear was gone. When the last groups reached the scene, Rochelle was shivering in her sleeping bag. Brother Woolley later recalled, “When I first saw Rochelle, I didn’t see how she could travel any farther. But she was given a blessing and immediately stood up, put on her pack, and was fine the rest of the day.”

I served in the United States Navy near the end of World War II. Navy boot camp was not an easy experience for me or for anyone who endured it.
When Sunday rolled around after the first week, we received welcome news from the chief petty officer. Standing at attention on the drill ground in a brisk California breeze, we heard his command: “Today everybody goes to church—everybody, that is, except for me. I am going to relax!” Then he shouted, “All of you Catholics, you meet in Camp Decatur—and don’t come back until three o’clock. Forward, march!” A rather large group moved out. Then he barked out his next command: “Those of you who are Jewish, you meet in Camp Henry—and don’t come back until three o’clock. Forward, march!” A smaller group marched out. Then he said, “The rest of you Protestants, you meet in the theaters at Camp Farragut—and don’t come back until three o’clock. Forward, march!”
Instantly there flashed through my mind the thought, “Monson, you are not a Catholic; you are not a Jew; you are not a Protestant. You are a Mormon, so you just stand here!” I felt completely alone.
Then the chief petty officer looked in my direction and asked, “And just what do you guys call yourselves?” I had not realized that anyone was standing beside me or behind me. Almost in unison, each of us replied, “Mormons!” Joy filled my heart as I turned around and saw a handful of other sailors.
The chief petty officer thought for a moment and finally said, “Well, you guys go find somewhere to meet. And don’t come back until three o’clock. Forward, march!”
As we marched away, I thought of the words of a rhyme I had learned in Primary years before:
Dare to be a Mormon;
Dare to stand alone.
Dare to have a purpose firm;
Dare to make it known.
How grateful I am that I made the decision long ago to remain strong and true, always prepared and ready to defend my religion.

Let me tell you a personal story about brokenness.
When our children were young, they decided they wanted to take piano lessons. My husband, Rudy, and I wanted to provide our children this opportunity, but we had no piano. We could not afford a new piano, so Rudy started looking for a used one.
That year for Christmas, he surprised us all with a piano, and through the years, our children learned to play.
When our sons grew up and left the house, the old piano just collected dust, so we sold it. A few years went by, and we had saved some money. One day Rudy said, “I think it’s time we get a new piano.”
I asked, “Why would we get a new piano, when neither of us plays?”
He said, “Oh, but we can get a piano that plays itself! By using an iPad, you can program the piano to play over 4,000 songs, including hymns, Tabernacle Choir songs, all the Primary songs, and so many more.”
Rudy is a great salesperson, to say the least.
We purchased a beautiful new player piano, and a few days later, two big, strong men delivered it to our house.
I showed them where I wanted it and moved out of the way.
It was a heavy baby grand, and to fit it through the door, they removed the legs and managed to put the piano sideways on top of a moving dolly that they had brought with them.
Our house sat on a little bit of a slope, and unfortunately earlier that day it had snowed, leaving things wet and slushy. Can you see where this is going?
While the men were moving the piano up the little slope, it slipped, and I heard a big, loud crash. The piano had fallen off the moving dolly and hit the ground so hard that it left a big dent in our lawn.
I said, “Oh, my goodness. Are you OK?”
Thankfully both men were OK.
Their eyes were wide as they looked at each other, then looked at me and said, “We are so sorry. We’ll take it back to the store and have our manager call you.”
Soon the manager was talking with Rudy to arrange delivery of a new piano. Rudy is kind and forgiving and told the manager it was OK if they just repaired the damage and brought back the same piano, but the manager insisted on getting us a new one.
Rudy responded, saying, “It couldn’t be that bad. Just fix it up and bring it over.”
The manager said, “The wood is broken, and once the wood is broken, it can never sound the same. You will get a new piano.”
Sisters and brothers, aren’t we all like this piano, a little broken, cracked, and damaged, feeling like we will never be the same again? However, as we come unto Jesus Christ by exercising faith in Him, repenting, and making and keeping covenants, our brokenness—whatever its cause—can be healed. This process, which invites the Savior’s healing power into our lives, does not just restore us to what we were before but makes us better than we ever were. I know that through our Savior, Jesus Christ, we can all be mended, made whole, and fulfill our purpose, just like a beautiful-sounding, brand-new piano.
President Russell M. Nelson taught: “When sore trials come upon us, it’s time to deepen our faith in God, to work hard, and to serve others. Then He will heal our broken hearts. He will bestow upon us personal peace and comfort. Those great gifts will not be destroyed, even by death.”
Jesus said:
“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
“Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
“For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28–30).
To heal brokenness by coming unto Him, we need to have faith in Jesus Christ. “Having faith in Jesus Christ means relying completely on Him—trusting in His infinite power … and love. It includes believing His teachings. It means believing that even though we do not understand all things, He does. Because He has experienced all our pains, afflictions, and infirmities, He knows how to help us rise above our daily difficulties.”
As we come unto Him, “we can be filled with joy, peace, and consolation. All that is [hard and challenging] about life can be made right through the Atonement of Jesus Christ.” He has counseled us, “Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not” (Doctrine and Covenants 6:36).
In the Book of Mormon when Alma and his people were nearly crushed by the burdens placed upon them, the people pleaded for relief. The Lord didn’t take away their burdens; instead He promised them:
“And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions.
“And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord” (Mosiah 24:14–15).
Of the Savior’s ability to heal and lighten burdens, Elder Tad R. Callister has taught:
“One of the blessings of the Atonement is that we can receive of the Savior’s succoring powers. Isaiah spoke repeatedly of the Lord’s healing, calming influence. He testified that the Savior was ‘a strength to the needy in his distress, a refuge from the storm, a shadow from the heat’ (Isaiah 25:4). As to those who sorrow, Isaiah declared that the Savior possessed the power to ‘comfort all that mourn’ (Isaiah 61:2), and ‘wipe away tears from off all faces’ (Isaiah 25:8; see also Revelation 7:17); ‘revive the spirit of the humble’ (Isaiah 57:15); and ‘bind up the brokenhearted’ (Isaiah 61:1; see also Luke 4:18; Psalm 147:3). So expansive was his succoring power that he could exchange ‘beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness’ (Isaiah 61:3).
“Oh, what hope soars in those promises! … His spirit heals; it refines; it comforts; it breathes new life into hopeless hearts. It has the power to transform all that is ugly and vicious and worthless in life to something of supreme and glorious splendor. He has the power to convert the ashes of mortality to the beauties of eternity.”
I testify that Jesus Christ is our loving Savior, our Redeemer, the Master Healer, and our faithful friend. If we turn to Him, He will heal us and make us whole again. I testify this is His Church and He is preparing to return once again to reign with power and glory on this earth. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

It was a Thursday like any other. My husband, Jean-Pierre, had gone to work, the older children were at school, and the younger children and I were at home in Val d’Or, Quebec. It was a routine day, and I began my usual tasks of gathering laundry, cleaning rooms, and preparing meals.
By 2:30 that afternoon, I needed a break. Sitting down to rest for a few minutes, I picked up my scriptures. I had been reading the Book of Mormon, but for some reason, I opened the Pearl of Great Price instead and began reading the account of the Creation from the book of Moses.
As I read, something inexplicable happened. I couldn’t stop reading. I felt that I was understanding at a deeper level than I ever had before—understanding not just through the words, but through spiritual impressions. I couldn’t put the book down and completely forgot about the time. By the time my family returned home, I had neither finished the housework nor made dinner.
I didn’t know why I had had this marvelous experience until several days later when I saw Noël and Huguette Demers at church. They had just returned from a three-week vacation, during which they had gone to the Washington Temple, more than 1,600 kilometers from our home. Some weeks before they left, I had asked Brother and Sister Demers to do the temple work for some of my ancestors whose names I had sent to the temple. I hadn’t been endowed yet, so I couldn’t do the temple work myself. Noël and Huguette hadn’t known when they would be going to the temple, but they had promised they would do the temple work for my ancestors if possible. In the meantime, I had forgotten about my request.
That Sunday when I spoke with Noël and Huguette and learned that they had completed the temple work for my ancestors, I immediately wanted to know the exact day they had been in the temple. They had done the work the week before, they said, on a Thursday. Then I understood. That ordinary Thursday, when I was having the most extraordinary spiritual experience of my life, turned out to be the very day they were doing the temple work for my ancestors.
Ten years later, when I went to the temple for my own endowment, I understood and appreciated even more the gift my Heavenly Father gave me by allowing me to share in the spirit of the temple on that ordinary Thursday afternoon.

Your mom says you may invite two friends over after school tomorrow. First you call Julie, who lives a few kilometers away. She is in your Primary class and in your class at school. Her parents say yes! She will walk home with you; her parents will pick her up before supper.

Next you call Tasha, a nonmember who lives just a few houses away. She can come, too. Before she hangs up the phone, though, she asks if anyone else is coming. When you tell her Julie is also coming, Tasha says, “If she is coming, I don’t want to come.”

If you say, “Julie is my friend too. Why don’t you come and get to know her better?” go to A. If you say, “OK, I’ll tell Julie that something came up and I can’t have anybody over,” go to F.

A. Tasha says, “Well, I guess I’ll still come, but don’t expect me to make friends with Julie.”
After school, Tasha and Julie walk home with you. When Julie stoops to tie her shoelace, Tasha makes an ugly face at her behind her back.
If you say, “Julie, Tasha’s making faces at you. She didn’t want you to come,” go to J. If you say nothing but give Tasha a look of disappointment, go to E.

E. When you get to your house, punch and cookies are on the table. They turn out to be Tasha’s and Julie’s favorite treats. As the afternoon goes on, you see that Tasha is actually being friendly to Julie. Tasha says, “Julie, I didn’t know you were such fun! You never say anything in school.”
If you suddenly feel jealous and try to discourage their growing friendship, go to B. If you try to help them become better friends, go to I.

I. You suggest that you all play on the swing. Tasha has the first turn. As Julie climbs on for her turn, a car full of teenagers drives by. One of them flips a cigarette on the curb. Tasha runs to pick it up. “It’s still lit!” She turns to you and says, “I dare you to try it!”
If you say, “No, I don’t do that kind of stuff, and I hope you don’t either, because it’s bad for you,” go to D. If you say, “Well, maybe just one puff—but you’d better not tell anyone!” go to H.

D. Tasha hides the cigarette as her mother drives past, then starts to put it in her mouth. You yell, “Stop! It really is bad for you.”
She says, “Once won’t hurt. I want to know what it tastes like.” She takes a puff and starts to cough.
When she throws the cigarette down, you stomp on it and say, “I wish you hadn’t done that. Heavenly Father doesn’t want us to hurt our bodies.”
Tasha asks, “Is Heavenly Father the same as God? How do you know that he doesn’t want us to smoke?”
If you say, “I just do, that’s all. Come on—it’s Julie’s turn on the swing,” go to C. If you say, “Because he told us so in a scripture we call the Word of Wisdom,” go to G.

G. “What’s the Word of Wisdom?” Tasha asks.
“It’s a scripture that teaches us not to smoke and not to drink coffee, tea, beer, or wine—stuff like that. And not to do drugs.”
Julie adds, “It teaches us to eat fruits and vegetables and grains—you know, healthy food.”
“So do you two go to the same church?” Tasha asks. When you both nod, she looks down. “I don’t go to church, except when I visit my grandma. What do you do at your church?”
“Well,” you answer, “we have Primary every Sunday. We have a lesson and learn about Jesus Christ. We sing songs and have a lot of fun. Oh, and we have special activity days sometimes.”
Julie says, “It’s really neat! Do you want to come with us this Sunday?”
“Do I have to wear a dress?” Tasha asks.
“We always do,” you tell her. “I’m always glad I do—it feels right, somehow.”
Tasha shrugs. “I guess it won’t hurt me to dress up. Sure—I’ll ask Mom if I can go.”
Congratulations! You made important choices—and you made the right ones!

Elder Christensen served a mission in Uruguay from 1959 to 1961, and it was there that he developed a strong testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith. “Prior to that I could relate the story of the First Vision. But when I arrived in the mission field and prayerfully and sincerely taught it to others, I came to have a certain testimony of the Prophet Joseph and the restored gospel,” he says. “That testimony came in a vivid and sure way, and I knew what I was teaching was true.”

Molly tried not to cry as she said goodbye to her sister, Macy. “I love you!” Molly said. She gave Macy a big hug.
“I’ll see you in a few months,” Macy said. Macy was leaving home to go to college now. One of Molly’s brothers was already away at college. Her other brother was on a mission. Molly would miss them all so much!
Mom squeezed Molly’s hand. They watched Macy drive away. “We’ll miss her,” Mom said. She had tears in her eyes.
Molly walked back into the house. She went to Macy’s empty bedroom and closed the door. Then she sat on Macy’s bed and started crying.
Someone knocked on the door. Mom and Dad came in. They hugged Molly. They all sat on Macy’s bed together until Molly’s tears dried up.
“I know you’re sad Macy’s gone,” Dad said. “Why don’t we have a family prayer? We can ask Heavenly Father to help us feel better. Would you please pray, Molly?”
“OK.” Molly bowed her head. “Heavenly Father, we thank Thee for everyone in our family—for Will, Parker, Macy, me, and Mom and Dad. We thank Thee that we can be a family forever. Please help us feel comfort. And help me to not feel so lonely.”
Molly missed talking to Macy at bedtime. But she knew Heavenly Father heard her prayers. She knew He would help her feel better.
The next morning, Molly’s house was so quiet! She missed laughing with Macy as they got ready for school. She missed eating breakfast together and talking. Sometimes Macy told her about what she was learning in seminary. Molly always felt peaceful when they talked about the gospel.
That was it! Molly had an idea.
Molly got ready for school. Then she found Mom.
“Hi, sweetie.” Mom hugged her. “Are you ready for school?”
“Can we read a conference talk together before I leave?” Molly asked. “I think it will help me feel better.”
Mom smiled. “That’s a great idea.”
They took turns reading a general conference talk about comfort. Molly liked spending time with Mom. It felt good to read the talk with her.
When they finished, Molly smiled. “Let’s do this again!”
She still missed Macy, Will, and Parker. But she felt a little less lonely. Her prayer was answered! She could spend time with her mom and dad. And the words of the prophets could help her find peace.

Growing up in the Church, I’d always just assumed that God existed and loved me. It wasn’t until high school that I felt the need to discover for myself if everything I’d been taught was true.
I went to a Church-sponsored youth camp one summer where faithful peers spoke of receiving answers to their prayers by feeling the Holy Ghost. I thought the Holy Ghost had never communicated with me because I’d never felt “my heart burn within my chest” as many of the other youth had described. At the camp, one of the counselors said that “if you ask God if He loves you, then He will answer.” Excited at the prospect of definite revelation, I knelt that night and asked God if He loves me. I felt nothing. I was angry. I begged for an answer. I’d never felt so very alone. I knew that God loves me—why wouldn’t He let me feel it?
I spent the next year coming to terms with this experience. Over time, I realized that the Holy Ghost had spoken to me, just not in the way I’d expected. It was not through intense feelings but through a calm and pure knowledge of truth in my heart and mind. By the time I went back to camp the following summer, I’d realized I didn’t need an intense confirming feeling to know that God loves me, because the Spirit spoke to me a different way.
And then the strangest thing happened: I got that feeling. One night while writing in my journal, I heard a voice in my head say, “I love you.” It was a soft whisper, and I knew it was of divine origin. I knelt and tearfully thanked God and felt surrounded by His love. It often seems too bold to say, but I felt like I was wrapped in the arms of God that night.
Though I felt a lot of emotions during this experience, I also learned that the Holy Ghost speaks to people in different ways. To this day, the Spirit gives me a pure knowledge of the truth. I know that God lives and loves us more than we can comprehend. He may not give us everything we want, but when we’re ready, worthy, and faithful, He will answer our earnest and fervent prayers in the way and time He knows is best.

“How high are we going, Dad?” Keith asked, skipping merrily along to keep up with his father’s long, quick strides.
“To the fourth floor,” said Dad with a smile when they approached the four-story bank building. Keith had been in the bank before but had never ridden its elevator.
“Elevators are magic,” Keith said.
“What do you mean?” asked Dad.
“Well, people go into them, and the doors close. Then when they come out, they are somewhere else.”
Father laughed. “I guess you’re right, son. An elevator is magic!”
Keith gripped his dad’s hand as they pushed through the big swinging double glass doors of the bank building. “How many elevators are there?” he asked.
“Only one,” Dad answered.
Keith was about to ask how people came back down if the elevator stopped working. But when he passed a door with the word STAIRS on it he decided he already knew the answer.
Dad stopped at some large shiny doors and pushed a little button that lighted up. The doors opened and some people stepped out. Keith wondered where they all came from.
Keith and his dad stepped quickly into the elevator. Dad pushed another little button stamped with a 4.
“What would happen if we didn’t stop at 4?” Keith asked, watching a row of numbers light up one at a time. Dad said that the fourth floor was as high as the elevator went. But Keith wondered if anyone had ever gone past there and had stopped on the roof or maybe even high above the clouds somewhere.
However, when the elevator slowed to a stop on the fourth floor, the door opened onto a long, narrow hallway. Then another thought came to Keith. “Dad, how far down does an elevator go?”
“It stops in the basement below the level of the ground,” Dad answered.
Keith wondered what would happen if the elevator didn’t stop when it got to the basement, but he didn’t say anything.
When his dad had finished with his business they returned to the elevator. Keith was still thinking about the basement when Dad pushed the button. Soon the elevator doors silently slid open. No one came out, so Keith stepped in.
Just then someone called to Dad and he stopped and turned to see who it was. Suddenly, the heavy doors closed, leaving Keith in the elevator all by himself. Keith yelled, “Dad!” and tried to open the doors, but they wouldn’t budge and he didn’t know about the special button that could be pushed to reopen them. Even if he had known, he was too short to reach it.
The elevator started moving, slowly at first, but then it picked up speed as down, down, down it went. Keith watched fearfully as the row of numbers lighted up again, one at a time—3, 2, 1. When the elevator didn’t slow down at 1, he was really afraid. But when the letter B lit up, the elevator finally came to a gentle stop.
Keith wondered what would happen next. He was so frightened that a big tear started to roll down his cheek. Slowly and quietly the doors slid open. Standing before him was a man in striped overalls, carrying a mop and a well-used bucket.
“Well, hello, there!” said the man, with a surprised look on his face.
“Hi,” Keith managed to say, stepping out of the elevator. “Who—who are you?”
The man’s surprised look slowly turned into a broad smile. “I’m Joe, the building custodian. Are you lost?”
“I guess I am, sort of. My dad’s up on the fourth floor and I’m down here. I want to get back to him.”
“Do you remember how your dad made the elevator take him to the fourth floor? I bet you could do the same thing,” Joe encouraged.
“But I can’t reach the buttons.”
“I see,” said Joe. “That is a problem.”
Then Joe held up the head of the mop. “Let me introduce you to this beauty. Her name is Liz, and she’s the queen of the basement.”
He put his head close to the head of his mop. “What did you say, Liz? That you want to visit the fourth floor, and that you’d like us to escort you?”
Joe bent down and whispered to Keith. “She means she wants us to go with her and help her punch elevator buttons. What do you think? Should we help her out?”
“You bet!” said Keith, grinning from ear to ear.
“OK, Your Highness. This way,” said Joe with a flourish and a bow to the mop. Joe picked up the bucket and, with Keith’s help, escorted Liz into the elevator. And up they went.
Dad was glad to see Keith. And after both of them thanked Joe for his help, Dad was introduced to Liz. He said he’d be honored to shake the queen’s hand, but since that didn’t seem possible, he’d just say, “Thanks.”
On the way down in the elevator, Dad asked, “Well, son, did you learn anything about elevators today?”
“Yep,” said Keith as he watched the numbers light up one at a time. “What goes up—comes down.”

President Gordon B. Hinckley mentioned in a talk that he sometimes wished “every girl had access to a sewing machine and training in how to use it. She could then make her own attractive clothing” (“Stay on the High Road,” Ensign, May 2004, 114).
The Young Women of the Hayden Lake Idaho Stake decided to take the prophet’s words to heart and started sewing. Every ward organized the resources, expertise, and time to help each young woman complete a sewing project. Most of the girls made skirts, but some chose to sew capris, aprons, quilts, sweats, even pajamas.
Before this year’s Young Women meeting, the stake held a fashion show where the girls showed off their projects and talked about the experience. Bethany Wise, a Mia Maid in the Hayden Lake First Ward, said her favorite thing about the project was learning she could do something she’d never done before. “Having my grandma and mom help me was really fun,” she said.

It was a chilly Wednesday afternoon when I opened a white envelope with a blue Mount McKinley stamp. As a missionary in southern Brazil, I always looked forward to Wednesdays because it was preparation day, and that meant reading my mother’s encouraging letters.
This particular day my mother’s letter did not appear different from any other letter she had sent me before. The envelope was covered with the usual colorful Primary stickers, and I opened it quickly. My mother wrote that Brett had just received his mission call to Tokyo, Japan. As I read, I could not control my smile, and I tried to hide my moist eyes from my companion. My mind went back to the day I met Brett.
One Sunday at church a family friend introduced me to his son, who had recently moved back home. “Hey, Tyler, this is my son, Brett.”
Brett was chatting with his family in the bench behind mine. I politely smiled and leaned back over the bench to meet him. I figured this was what his dad hoped I would do. He had informed me previously that Brett was less active in the Church. Brett appeared nice enough, with his brown, gel-slicked hair and red pullover sweater. I remember thinking, “This guy seems cool. We’ll have to hang out sometime.” As the day wore on, I forgot all about Brett and my good intentions to become his friend.
Hours later, after a delicious Sunday dinner, a thought came to my mind, “You should call Brett now.”
As an enthusiastic priest and soon-to-be missionary, I longed to feel the Lord’s influence more powerfully in my life. My heart thrilled at the thought that the Lord might use me to help Brett come closer to Him.
But as I sat considering the impression, doubts began to creep in. “I barely know this kid,” I thought. “What will I say?”
Recognizing the source of these doubts, I made a conscious decision to follow the prompting to call Brett. I said a short prayer: “Please help me know what to say to Brett. I really want to help.” After the prayer, I felt an odd mixture of apprehension tempered with faith. Not wanting to allow any time for my fears to return, I quickly grabbed the telephone and dialed his number.
As the phone rang, I tried to decide what I would say to Brett.
“Hello?” I heard. It was Brett’s voice.
“Hello, Brett. This is Tyler, the guy who sat in front of you at church. What’s up?” I tried to sound cool.
“Oh, not much. How are you?”
“Umm, good.” There was an awkward pause. “Hey, I was wondering if you would like to go to ummm … institute maybe this Thursday night. It’s a long drive, and I would like someone to go with me.”
“Sure, Tyler, that sounds cool,” was his response.
“Awesome. I’ll pick you up at 6:30.” After a little more small talk, I hung up the phone. I eased into my chair and smiled.
We went to institute and church together that week and a couple weeks thereafter. Brett and I became good friends, and I realized later that the call I had been inspired to make came at just the right time in Brett’s life. He longed to feel closer to the Lord. Just like me, he was in desperate need of a friend who could give him support and encouragement.
Sitting in my apartment in southern Brazil, thousands of miles away from home and more than a year since I had met Brett, I became fully aware that the Lord had inspired me to be one of the friends Brett needed. Gratitude overwhelmed me as I realized that, despite my weaknesses and insecurities, the Lord can magnify my efforts and make up for my shortcomings. If I desire to serve Him, His hands will mold me into the servant He wants me to become.

Within the city of Sete Lagoas, Brazil, is a shelter for women with disabilities whose lives have been affected by drug abuse. Each day they struggled to survive. They had a small oven they used to produce about 30 loaves of bread a day. Though the women had received some aid from a local humanitarian association, they scarcely had enough to feed themselves. When Church leaders from the Sete Lagoas Brazil Stake learned of the needs of these women, they wanted to help.
They spoke with the women about their needs. The women said that if they could produce more bread, they could not only better feed themselves but perhaps could sell a few loaves and earn some desperately needed income.
Church leaders and members worked with the local military police and a local school to improve conditions for these women. With the help of a Church humanitarian grant and volunteers from the Church and the community, they were able to create a new bakery—one that allowed the women to produce 300 loaves of bread daily.
With the proceeds they have received, the women at the bakery have been able to hire their first employee—one of the women at the shelter.

My family was about to leave the party, but I still wanted to go Rollerblading. My father embraced me and asked if I wanted to stay so he could take me Rollerblading.
“No!” I said angrily.
“You can trust me,” he said.
Others wanted to leave, so we got in the car. Ten minutes later we were in a car accident. Miraculously, I survived, but my father was killed. That “no!” was the last thing I said to him, and he was the last person I would embrace for many years.
For the next 11 years, my life was on a downward spiral. I lost confidence in myself and began to distrust everyone. My life was so unhappy that one day when I was 18, I found myself struggling beneath torrential hopelessness, imploring God to show me the way to a happy life.
A week later two missionaries approached me. They showed me a book and told me I should pray for a witness of its truthfulness. What they asked seemed small, but the wounds left by the death of my father were deep, and I considered my meeting the missionaries a mere coincidence and not an answer from a God who loved me.
Still, I did read the Book of Mormon and prayed to receive an answer—though not with real intent. After all, that would mean I would have to trust God, to embrace Him and His answer. It was easier to accept the readily available criticisms of the Church. And I had also discovered that so many of the great historical figures I had been introduced to in school were flawed. What if Joseph Smith was just like them?
In the end, however, I was baptized and confirmed. I knew I needed some direction in my life, and I liked the Church and the members. But I now realize that I joined without a true testimony, one that burns in the heart. The belief I did have resulted from my realization that the arguments made by detractors of the Church were superficial. But still distrusting, I reached the point where maintaining that belief felt overwhelming. My introduction to the Church had begun because of my lack of trust and my unhappiness, and I was being reduced to the same state again.
So I made a crucial decision: I will pray, but this time I’ll do it just as Moroni exhorted, with “faith in Christ,” “real intent,” and a “sincere heart” (Moroni 10:4). On the day I had chosen, I fasted and prayed for direction. I spent the day pondering everything that had happened.
That night I knelt at my bed. Bowing my head, I asked Heavenly Father about the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. My mind began to remember all my doubts. I closed my eyes, clutched my hands tighter, and asked again—with sincerity, with intent, with faith in our Savior.
The world seemed to stop. I felt warm and enveloped in light. For 11 long years I had yearned for this, and finally I was embraced again by a father—a Heavenly Father. Finally I had found someone to trust. “Yes,” I said, with tears on my face, “I trust Thee.”

One family, the Leotas, arrived in Hawaii on New Year’s Day 1923. Seven-year-old Vailine Leota remembered, “Our first [view] of the temple … was the most beautiful sight.”3 Just two weeks later, Vailine’s parents, Aivao and Matala, received their endowments and were sealed as a couple, and their children were sealed to them. The Leotas served faithfully in the house of the Lord for 50 years and were buried “near the temple they loved so much.”4 Today, hundreds of their faithful descendants live throughout Hawaii.

It’s 10:00 a.m., and your teacher is about to hand out a test. You don’t know the person sitting next to you very well, but you notice she’s frantically digging through her backpack. What do you do?
Ignore her. You’re stressed as well and need to cram for the test.
Wish her good luck.
Ask her if she’s looking for something. When you hear she needs a pencil, you give her one of yours. “Keep it,” you tell her with a smile.

When I was baptized, I was already too old for Primary. Even so, I attended it for two years. I did hold the priesthood, but the branch was small and the Primary teachers were so good that I went there. I loved it and was grateful that the teachers didn’t tell me that I couldn’t attend because I was too old. I remember three outstanding teachers. Olga Ramos, Lida del Bosque, and Irma Torres were their names. All three cared a great deal about us children. They diligently taught us and had activities for us. They were young adults then. Now they are married women with grandchildren. I am very grateful to them because it was through their teaching that I learned the gospel.

I grew up as a cowboy working on my family’s cattle ranch. One of my jobs was to gather hay from the fields with a dump rake, which is a giant rake pulled by a team of two horses. Driving the team, I raked up hay and dumped it into large piles. One day when I was 11, I thought I heard something broken in the rake. I pulled on the reins to stop the horses. When they stopped, I let go of the reins and jumped off to see what the problem was.
As soon as I got off, the horses turned around and looked at me. When they saw that I had let go of the reins, they bolted away, racing for the barn with the big rake bouncing along behind them. I was left far behind, alone and afraid.
When the horses got to the barn they ran through the door, but the dump rake was too big and it crashed into the barn. The doors were badly damaged and so was the rake. I knew I was in trouble.
This experience taught me to never let go of the reins, not even for a moment. Lehi’s dream in the Book of Mormon also teaches about never letting go of something—the iron rod, which is the word of God. We should never let go of the iron rod, not even for a moment. If we hold onto the gospel principles tightly, we will get where we want to go, which is back to live with Heavenly Father. If we let go of the gospel principles, bad things can happen very quickly. We must always try to choose the right and never let go of the iron rod.

Elder Zivic was born on December 19, 1948, to Latter-day Saint parents Sergio Jorge Zivic and Eleonora Zalewski Zivic in Buenos Aires, Argentina. As a 15-year-old runner, he ranked second nationally in his age group in the 800 meters. His greatest desire was to compete in the Olympics, and his coach, a former Olympic decathlete, believed he could do it—if he would only give up his reluctance to compete on Sundays.
“I had to choose,” says Elder Zivic. “In the end I felt competing wasn’t what the Lord wanted for me.”

When I reflect on the race of life, I remember another type of race, even from childhood days. When I was about ten, my boyfriends and I would take pocketknives in hand and, from the soft wood of a willow tree, fashion small toy boats. With a triangular-shaped cotton sail in place, each boy would launch his crude craft in the race down the relatively turbulent waters of the Provo River. We would run along the river’s bank and watch the tiny vessels sometimes bobbing violently in the swift current and at other times sailing serenely as the water deepened.

During one such race we noted that one boat led all the rest toward the appointed finish line. Suddenly the current carried it too close to a large whirlpool, and the boat heaved to its side and capsized. Around and around it was carried, unable to make its way back into the main current. At last it came to an uneasy rest at the end of the pool, amid the flotsam and jetsam that surrounded it.

The toy boats of childhood had no keel for stability, no rudder to provide direction, and no source of power. Inevitably their destination was downstream—the path of least resistance.