Gospel Story Finder

One year at youth conference, my ward spent a day doing service. I volunteered to help at the town’s high school (even though I didn’t have the best memories there), because a janitor needed help moving lockers. As my friend and I helped move the lockers, I thought about the school where we were serving. I remembered a sporting event there where I felt the referees had not called a fair game. For my team, that game was still a sore spot, and I realized that I had let anger and bitterness stay in my heart.
I began to feel sorrow as I thought about the grudge I held, and I prayed for forgiveness. As I prayed and kept serving, I felt the anger and bitterness melting away and began to see the high school as it was: a great school facing some tough times. I began to feel gratitude for God guiding me to where I needed to serve and work through my problems. Through my service, the Lord was able to open my eyes to the grudge I’d harbored and help me let it go. I learned that service will scrape away the blackness of anger and bitterness, help us gain a love for those we once disliked, and help us draw closer to our Heavenly Father.
Robert S., Idaho, USA

A true story from the USA.
Emma gripped her pencil tightly as her teacher handed out the papers.
“It’s time for our Cheetah Chase,” said Ms. Malcolm. “You have five minutes to do 93 math problems. Everyone who finishes on time can add a cheetah sticker to their chart.”
Emma really wanted a cheetah sticker. If you got five stickers, you won a prize! But the Cheetah Chase math problems were so hard.
“Everyone ready?” Ms. Malcolm said. “Go!”
Emma flipped over her paper and started answering the questions. She had to think carefully about each one. It was hard!
BZZZZZZZ! The timer went off, making Emma jump.
“Pencils down!” Ms. Malcolm called.
Emma hid her paper with her hand and kept writing answers. It wasn’t a big deal if she kept going, right? She’d done it before, and nobody noticed.
“Pass your paper to the person next to you for grading,” Ms. Malcolm said.
Emma finished the last answer before passing her paper.
When Emma got her paper back, she saw the red 100% at the top. But she didn’t feel very good inside.
“Everyone come show me your papers to get your stickers,” Ms. Malcolm said.
Emma walked to Ms. Malcolm’s desk with her paper.
“Emma, can you stay up here for a minute, please?” Ms. Malcolm asked.
While everyone else was talking, Ms. Malcolm turned to Emma. “Did you keep answering questions even after the timer went off?”
Emma’s face got really hot. She nodded and looked down. “Yes.”
“Have you done that before?”
Emma shook her head. “No.” But she felt her face get even hotter. She had cheated before. And now she had lied.
“I can’t give you a cheetah sticker unless you follow the rules. Do you understand?”
Emma nodded. Then she walked to her seat with her eyes down.
For the rest of the school day, Emma felt an awful knot twisting and turning in her stomach. She felt bad for cheating. She felt bad for lying. She didn’t like this feeling!
After school, Emma talked to Mom. “I don’t feel very good,” she said.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked.
Emma suddenly got nervous. Should she tell Mom what she had done?
She took a deep breath. “I cheated today at school.” It was the first time she said it out loud. It felt like the knot in her stomach was untwisting. “And I’ve done it before. I feel bad.”
Mom gave Emma a hug. “Thanks for telling me. You know cheating is wrong. Why did you do it?”
“Because I really wanted a cheetah sticker, but I didn’t finish the math problems in time.”
Mom nodded. “What do you think you should do now?”
Emma thought about it. “I should say a prayer to Heavenly Father to say sorry for not being honest. Then tell my teacher.”
“That sounds great.” Mom smiled. “And I can help you practice math more so you’re ready for the next Cheetah Chase.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Emma said. Then she and Mom knelt down to say a prayer. Emma felt warm. She was glad she had decided to repent.
After she prayed, Emma wrote an email to her teacher. She told the truth and said sorry for cheating. She promised she wouldn’t do it again.
After clicking send, Emma felt so much better. She knew Ms. Malcolm would probably cross her cheetah stickers off her chart. But that was OK. From now on she would earn them the honest way.
“Because of Jesus Christ, we can repent and be forgiven of our sins.”
President Russell M. Nelson, “The Answer Is Always Jesus Christ,” Liahona, May 2023, 127.
Illustrations by Anny Chen

During the past year I’ve become friends with a young woman who belongs to another faith. As we became better friends, I felt like I needed to share the gospel with her. It wasn’t an easy thing to do, because I’d had a bad experience with another friend I had tried to share the gospel with. But I repeatedly felt the promptings of the Spirit and decided I needed to follow through.
I began inviting my friend over to my house to spend time with my family and to feel the Spirit. I know that it was the strength of my family and the spirit in our home that made her want to know more about the Church, because she soon wanted to know why we were so happy. After a few weeks, I gave her a Book of Mormon with my testimony written in the front. She has since begun attending church in her area and was even asked to give a talk recently!
This young woman has been such an example of strength to me. It has been incredible to talk to her and hear her say that she has a sure faith in our Heavenly Father. She knows that if she does what is right, her family will be blessed and may feel the Spirit as she does.
Having seen someone take the first steps on the path to conversion, I now see just how blessed we are to have the priesthood, the temple, and all of the other blessings that come with the gospel. It excites me to share those blessings with others, and I can’t wait to do so as a missionary of the Lord.

This incident was shared by Lucile F. Johnson of Orem, Utah: “There was an attractive lady whose company everyone sought and enjoyed. She was a delight to be around because she seemed to love life and people to the fullest. One day I said to her, ‘You are such a joy to all of us. What is your secret? Can you tell me?’
“‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘One word changed my life.’
“‘And what was that word?’ I queried.
“‘Malignant!’ Startled, I heard this explanation: ‘The doctor said that word to me and told me I had a limited time to live. I had a choice. I could make everyone miserable or I could try to make others happy. On my knees I realized that I had one day at a time just as everyone else has. I was able to see things I had never seen. My husband, my children, each person took on a beauty you can’t believe. I know that life is a gift whether it be a day or a year and I intend to enjoy my gift to the maximum.’”

Understanding the Atonement. Sister Bayelita Carmen Ituza Casa of Perú, attending the Perú MTC: “In our class, we had an assignment to sketch an outline explaining the Atonement. But I had never clearly understood the Atonement, so I couldn’t do it—and I wasn’t the only one. When our outlines were due, our teachers helped us. I could tell we were more important than the assignment. We studied D&C 19:16–19, and I was able to understand the great love Jesus Christ has for us.”

A professor here at BYU shared the following when I asked him whether or not he had experienced anyone cheating on exams or assignments. He said:

I tried letting the students take the exam online—closed notes and closed book. I discovered that a couple of students had the clever idea of all being in the same room at the same time while one student took the exam. That enabled them to all help him to do well, and it allowed all of them to see the questions and answers before they took the exam. I only found out about it . . . because one of the women who participated had been . . . consumed by her guilt, so she came in and confessed and told me how they had all cheated.

This professor went on to share his perspective on students who cheat:

One of the challenges I’ve seen with all of this is not that these are bad kids. But they do rob themselves of the opportunity that school was designed to be. . . . If you plow through school just trying to figure out how to get the best grade and the highest GPA, you limit the actual learning that takes place.

This professor told me that because the woman was honest, she did not fail the exam or the class but did incur some penalties. Others who cheated and did not come forth failed the class.

As soon as she got home, Kaela couldn’t wait to check her mom’s phone. Her friends always posted pictures of cool clothes, fun vacations, and cute animals.
Click. Scroll. Click. She clicked on heart after heart to show she liked everything her friends were doing: skating at the park, baking a chocolate cake, burying their toes in the sand. One picture made Kaela giggle when she saw it. She couldn’t help it! It was a picture of her friend Chandry. She looked like a squirrel, with her cheeks full of cereal, and milk spilling onto her shirt. Chandry was so fun and goofy. Kaela scrolled down to add a laughing emoji. But then she saw the comments.
As she read them, Kaela felt sick. “Fat,” one said. “Ugly,” said another. “Chandry needs to go on a diet.” “A new walrus for the zoo.” One comment was even full of swear words.
Poor Chandry! Kaela thought. How could anyone write these things? She had heard of people being bullied online, but she never thought it would happen to her friend.
She shut off the phone and put it on the table. Then she went to her room and knelt down.
She told Heavenly Father everything she felt and how she wished those words weren’t there. But there was no way to undo what others had said. Heavenly Father, she said. Please help me know how to help Chandry.
Soon a song filled her mind. Jesus said love everyone, treat them kindly too. Peace warmed her heart. Even though the mean words had already been written, Kaela could still be kind.
She borrowed the phone again and sent a direct message to Chandry.
Chandry, I saw the posts online today. I hope you know I don’t agree with anything they said. You are a great friend to me, and you are beautiful. God loves you. Don’t believe what those bullies say.
Love, Kaela
Later, Kaela was helping Mom with the dishes. “Can we talk?” Kaela asked.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Some people are being mean to Chandry online,” Kaela said. She dried her hands and pulled up the picture on the phone.
Mom frowned. “That’s so sad! Do Chandry’s parents know?”
“I don’t know.” Kaela pulled up her message to Chandry. “I sent her this, though.”
Mom read the message and hugged Kaela tightly. “She’s lucky to have a friend like you. Thanks for telling me about this. I’m going to call Chandry’s parents. It’s hard to deal with bullying by yourself.”
Kaela smiled, feeling very grateful for prayer and the song she had remembered. She knew Jesus wants everyone to be kind. That means online too.
What else could Kaela do to help her friend? Send your ideas to us at friend@ldschurch.org.

I have seen many Christmas trees. Usually they have been topped with a lighted star or a lovely angel. But the most beautiful tree I have ever seen had a big red bow on top.
I wasn’t sure how to celebrate Christmas that year. My mother had been a widow for several years, and since I was single, we had continued many of our family traditions and had celebrated most of the holidays together. When my mother died just before Christmas, however, the old traditions suddenly seemed too painful without her.
The bishopric came to visit. They expressed concern about my being alone for Christmas. Looking around, the bishop asked why there was no Christmas tree or other decorations. I explained that I didn’t want to decorate a tree alone and so had decided not to have one. Christmas was so much of a family celebration that ignoring it seemed like the best way to make it through the holidays.
After they left, I went about my work. The bishop did not let the matter alone, though: He phoned the ward Primary president. I had just been called to be the Merrie Miss B teacher but would not start serving until the first of the year.
One afternoon, Michelle, one of the girls who would be in my class, called and asked if she could drop by the next evening about 7:30. I was surprised but looked forward to her company.
The doorbell rang at exactly 7:30, but it was not just Michelle who stood on my porch. It was all of the girls in my new Primary class—with a Christmas tree, lights, and decorations!
They pushed the large tree through the door and started setting it up in my living room. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and I was soon moving furniture to find just the right spot for the tree. I asked what I should do to help and was told to sit on the couch and just watch and enjoy. My next two hours were filled with the holiday laughter and love that only eleven-year-olds can create and share.
The girls told me their names and what part each had played in the project. Cindy showed me the hot-glue burns she had suffered while attaching ribbons to the backs of gingerbread cookies. Amanda couldn’t come that evening, so she had gone with her mother to buy the tree earlier in the day. Bethany was the tallest, so she was in charge of the lights. Lindsay joined in the decorating with a large box of candy canes. Rachel put a stocking filled with candy and a gift under the tree. Michelle told me that they had tried to find or make a star for the top of the tree but couldn’t, so they had brought a large red bow.
That bow topped one of the largest and most beautiful Christmas gifts I have ever received. Even before that tree was finished and lighted, my heart was full of the spirit of Christmas and of love for each girl in my future Primary class. That feeling was renewed each time I turned on the tree lights.
I have some new Christmas traditions now. I plan to have a tree every year, and it will always have candy canes, gingerbread men—and a big red bow on the top.

His father’s teachings and example were as powerful as his mother’s. On one occasion David O. McKay, his brothers, and his father were harvesting hay. When the time arrived to gather the tenth load, which was to be given to the Church as tithing, David McKay Sr. told the boys to move to a better spot than where they had gathered the previous nine loads. When young David O. questioned this instruction, his father said, “That is the tenth load, and the best is none too good for God.” Years later David O. McKay referred to this experience as the “most effective sermon on tithing I have ever heard in my life.”5

Let me share one final story about a lady in Mesa, Arizona. While serving as President of the Texas Corpus Christi, now Texas McAllen Mission, I was summoned to an Area Council meeting in Mesa, Arizona. Elder Gene R. Cook of the Seventy was serving in the Area Presidency and conducting the Saturday morning training session. He advised us that the meeting would be postponed until the mission presidents and stake presidents who were in attendance were paired off in companionships and went out as missionaries to call on church members who had been absent from the church for a number of years. My stake president companion was fairly young and fairly new on the job. Before we left the chapel we had a brief word of prayer and I picked up a hymn book to take along with my scriptures. We knew we had to do something to invite the spirit to be with us during our visit. The person we were assigned to call on was a middle aged lady who had had nothing to do with the church for more than 10 years. She was a widow. Her name was Sister Lockhart. We knocked on her door about 9:00 a.m. that Saturday morning. She opened the door only a few inches. I introduced ourselves and asked if we could come in and share a gospel message and that we were representing local church officials. Reluctantly she permitted us to step inside the doorway. I asked if we could go into her living room. She didn’t say anything but stepped aside which we interpreted as a partial positive response. After sitting I asked her if she would kneel with us and have a prayer before we shared our message. She refused to kneel. We felt uncomfortable and a good spirit was not present. Following a brief prayer I asked my stake president companion to read some verses in the 8th chapter of 1st Nephi relating to Lehi’s dream and the delicious fruit on the tree of life and how he was desirous that his family partake of the fruit which was the word of God. Neither the prayer nor the scripture caused any change in Sister Lockhart’s countenance and attitude. We always taught our missionaries different ways to invite the spirit. It is only the spirit that can teach and touch one’s heart. Everything else had failed. I opened the hymn book and asked if she would join with us in singing “I am a child of God.” She refused to sing with us. My companion and I sang a duet. Even though I love the songs of Zion and sing them regularly while on the tractor at the ranch, my wife can attest to the fact that singing is not my long suit. Fortunately, my companion had a beautiful voice. There was no change in Sister Lockhart’s countenance or facial expressions as we sang the first two verses. However, as we were singing the words of the chorus following the third verse; “Lead me, guide me, walk beside me, help me find the way. Teach me all that I must do to live with Him some day,” her eyes became moist and tears began to roll down her cheeks. It was obvious that the spirit had touched her heart. She then confessed that she had been away from the Church too long. She committed to get her life in order and return to the fold. The stake president followed through with the bishop and relief society president to assure she had home and visiting teachers. The last I heard, Sister Lockhart had returned to full activity in the church and was enjoying all the blessings of the restored gospel.

“Billy! Time to get up, or you’ll be late for school,” called Mother.
Billy Burke snuggled farther down under the warm quilt and wished that he didn’t have to get up. It was raining, and rainy days are nice times to burrow down in bed and sleep.
“Billy, do you hear me? I don’t want to have to come up there and get you. Hurry now, or you’ll be late for school.”
“Yes, Mother, I’m coming.”
Billy knew his mother didn’t want him to be late for school, but his horse, Brownie, could be depended on to get him there before the bell rang.
Living seven miles out in the country was fun most of the time. However, it meant that he had to get up earlier in the morning than the other kids and that he didn’t have as much time to play after school. He had his own horse to ride, though, and Billy thought he was about the luckiest ten-year-old boy in the county.
While Mrs. Burke piled hotcakes onto Billy’s plate, she said, “I want you to start early this morning because of the rain.”
Billy couldn’t understand why his mother never liked the rain when there was so little of it in this dry land. Nevertheless, he ate his breakfast quickly and went outside to the barn. Brownie stood in his stall, hunched against the chilly dampness. When Billy tried to put the saddle on Brownie, the horse shied away. “Stand still, Brownie. Do you want us to be late for school?”
Brownie usually liked the walk to school and the attention he got from the other children. Sometimes someone would bring him an apple or some carrots. But Brownie was behaving in a most peculiar way this morning.
“I know what’s the matter with you—you’re afraid the rain’ll make you rust, aren’t you? Well, it won’t,” Billy said as he tightened the cinch. As Billy rode out of the yard, he gave a quick wave to his mother.
The road followed the river up a narrow, steep canyon for the first two of the seven miles to town. There was no place to go in case of trouble except up the canyon walls—and that was where Brownie was going now!
“Brownie! Have you gone loco? Stay on the road.”
The usually obedient horse had a mind of his own this morning. Laying back his ears, he kept trying to climb the steep canyon wall, slipping and sliding on the loose stones. Billy did something that he had seldom done before—he smacked the little horse on the rump with the ends of the reins.
Ignoring Billy’s irritation, Brownie continued to scramble up the steep slope. The rain had seeped into the ground enough so that it was very difficult for the horse to keep his footing. Gooey mud tugged at his hooves, and the rocks were bruising his legs, but he kept struggling upward.
“Brownie! Please! I have to get to school. You know Mrs. Thompson gets cross if anyone is late. Now, come on. Please!”
Brownie slipped and went to his knees, then regained his footing and climbed frantically toward the top of the canyon walls.
Billy was getting scared. Brownie had never acted this way before. Realizing that he could not make the horse go back down to the road, Billy let the horse have his way. Once on the brow of the hill, Brownie headed straight home.
“Why aren’t you in school?” Mother asked.
“Brownie had other ideas, Mother. I couldn’t make him stay on the road.”
“Something must be wrong. Brownie never behaved that way before, and he’s trembling,” Mother said as she stroked Brownie’s neck. “Billy, why don’t you go inside, put some dry clothes on, and have a cup of cocoa. I’ll take care of Brownie.”
Suddenly, with a roar that shook the earth, a torrent of water surged down the river and through the canyon. It moved boulders as if they were pebbles, and great fingers of water reached out and grabbed trees and brush, devouring them in huge, gluttonous bites.
Billy turned and shouted above the roar, “Mother, what’s happening?”
“The river is flooding. There must have been a cloudburst in the mountains, and it’s just now reaching here. The farther it goes, the faster and more furiously it rages. You’d never have made it to school if Brownie had stayed in the canyon!” Mother declared.
Later, after Billy and his mother had thanked Heavenly Father for their safety, Billy helped her peel apples in the warm, cheerful kitchen.
“Well, now, apple pie sounds good on a cold, wet day like this, doesn’t it?” Mother asked.
“It sure does,” Billy answered as he went out the kitchen door with a bowlful of apple peelings. “And this ‘apple pie’ is for the smartest and bravest horse that ever set foot on this earth!”

Walking slowly along the wet sand—hands in pockets and bare feet kicking the water that lapped at his toes—Guillermo (Gee-yer-mo) wished he had a present to welcome his friend Philip. Soon it would be time for Philip to arrive in Baja, California, after the trip with his family along the Oregon seacoast. Two years ago the two boys had been neighbors in Arizona. Will Philip be the same? he wondered. He was concerned that perhaps they wouldn’t still like the same things.
Guillermo stooped to pick up a flat, gray, roundish seashell almost hidden in the wet sand. It was a sand dollar! He turned it over in his hand with the feeling of awe and wonder he always felt when he thought about the legend of the shell. He slipped the shell into his jeans pocket as he heard the sound of his mother’s voice floating down from the bluff.
“Guillermo, it is time.”
He climbed the winding path up the bluff to their red brick home at the top and opened the heavy wooden door to enter a cool, tile-bordered room.
“Hurry, Guillermo, and help me set the table,” urged his mother. “Philip’s parents will want their lunch so they can be on their way to Cabo San Lucas. How nice that Philip can stay with you for a whole week!”
Guillermo had just finished putting a bright cloth on the table and had changed into a clean T-shirt when he heard a car pull into the yard.
“Here they are,” said his mother. “Tell Papa.”
“Papa, they’re here!” called Guillermo. Then he hurried outside, one hand in his pocket.
A red-haired boy ran toward him with a package in his hand.
“Hola (hello), Guillermo, como está usted (how are you)?”
“I’m fine, Philip,” Guillermo replied.
“I’ve been practicing Spanish,” his friend explained. “Look what I brought you.” He shoved the package into Guillermo’s hand and said excitedly, “Open it, OK?”
Guillermo opened the package. Inside was a plastic flying saucer.
“Muchas gracias, Felipe (many thanks, Philip),” he said, grinning.
Again he wished he had a welcoming gift for Philip. Then he remembered the sand dollar he had picked up. He put his hand into his pocket and drew out the flat seashell.
“I have a present for you, too, Philip. I’m sorry it isn’t wrapped.”
“I’ve never seen a shell like this before,” said Philip. “What is it?”
“It’s a sand dollar. However, some people call it a keyhole urchin. It’s found on the Gulf coast and Atlantic coast. After dinner let’s go to my room and I’ll tell you about it.”
Later when they reached his bedroom, Guillermo opened a shoe box on his dresser and took out a dry, sun-bleached sand dollar. “The legend,” Guillermo began, “says that this shell tells the story of the birth and death of Jesus.”
“How can a sand dollar do that?” asked Philip.
Guillermo pointed to the shell in his hand.
“The markings show up better on this dry shell than on yours. See, on the back there’s an Easter lily. In the center of it is the tracing of the star that guided the wise men to the Christ child.”
Guillermo turned the shell over. “Here on the other side are the markings of the Christmas poinsettia. In the middle are five holes, representing the wounds in Jesus’ body when He was crucified.”
“Wow!” said Philip, “that’s interesting.” Then, looking closely at the holes, he thought of something else and asked, “How does the shell move?”
“When it’s alive it’s covered with brown, hair-like spines, and it moves with them. It’s an animal like the starfish.” Guillermo pointed to a small hole in the bottom of the shell. “It takes food in through here.” He handed the shell to Philip. “Here, shake it,” he suggested to his friend.
Guillermo watched as Philip gently shook the shell and sand fell out.
“What’s inside, more sand?” asked Philip.
“No. Hold out your hand. Now watch.”
Guillermo broke open the sand dollar and out dropped several tiny white wing-like objects.
“They’re like folded butterflies made of ivory or bone!” Philip exclaimed.
“The legend says they are the white doves that spread goodwill and peace,” Guillermo explained.
“That’s really neat,” said Philip. “Can we look for more sand dollars on the beach?”
“Sure, Philip. Did you know that some women wear pendants of gold cast from real sand dollars? Other people thread sand dollars on strings and use them for wind chimes.”
“I can make a chime for my mother!” said Philip excitedly. “Or maybe I could make her a necklace for Christmas. Boy, Guillermo, I’m so glad I came!”

Not many years ago I had a similar experience. I knew that I should tell the bishop of my mistake. I knew that if I were to die without confessing, I wouldn’t be able to look my Maker in the eye without guilt. But then I thought of the bishop. I felt that he respected me. I was the Laurel president. Over the years I had held many callings in Young Women. The thought of telling the bishop was painful to me. I felt that he would lose respect for me.

I decided to tell the bishop anyway to clear my conscience. I was extremely nervous when I called and asked if I could see him. The bishop was very understanding. He didn’t lecture me. He assured me that my sin was forgivable and that my Father in Heaven loved me very much and wanted me to be happy. As soon as I told him, the burden lifted and I felt clean once again. The next time I saw him he treated me as if nothing had happened. He never mentioned it again.

I have since thought about my past mistake, but the memory of it is as if it were another life. Two years after this incident I was married in the temple to a wonderful husband. We have now been married six months.

If I hadn’t taken that step I wouldn’t have been worthy to go to the temple.

It’s really worth it! No one needs to know but the bishop, the Lord, and you. Be brave and good luck.

Name withheld.

I spent my career in the department store business. Because I was part of a management team, it was important for me to interact socially with local business organizations. The meetings with most of these organizations always started with a cocktail hour. It was a time to mix and get acquainted with the men who belonged to the organization. I have always felt uncomfortable in these social hours. At first I started asking for a lemon-lime soda. I soon discovered that lemon-lime soda looks like many of the other drinks. I could not build the impression I was a nondrinker with a clear soda in my hands. I tried root beer. It had the same problem.

Finally I decided I had to have a drink that would clearly mark me as a nondrinker. I went to the bartender and requested a glass of milk. The bartender had never had such a request. He went into the kitchen and found a glass of milk for me. Now I had a drink that looked very different from the alcoholic beverages the others were drinking. Suddenly I was the center of attention. There were a lot of jokes made of my drink. My milk was a conversation piece. I met more business leaders that evening than I ever had before at a cocktail hour.

Milk became my drink of choice at the cocktail hours. It soon became common knowledge I was a Mormon. The respect I received really surprised me, as did an interesting event that started to occur. Others soon joined me in a pure milk cocktail!

Growing up, I always had a strong desire to serve a mission. I wanted to spread the gospel and bring souls unto Christ. I wanted to devote myself to full-time service for the Lord. However, it didn’t happen the way I expected.
When I turned 20, I applied to serve a mission just like many others, but was turned down for medical reasons. Then I tried to apply for a teaching mission from home, but that didn’t work out. I applied for a temple mission, but that didn’t happen either. In the end, I decided to go back into education, since I appeared to have no other options. Then, out of the blue, I heard about a new type mission launched in the UK that required service missionaries. So, despite my bad luck with the previous mission applications, I decided to give it a go.
Not long after I resubmitted my mission application, I received my long-awaited mission call. I was called to serve as a service missionary in my local area. I was the first service missionary in the England Manchester Mission. This was an extraordinary moment that I will not forget in a hurry. Not long after I received the call, I felt impressed that this was the mission that God had wanted me to serve since before I was born. That is why none of the other mission applications worked out. That is why I had to wait so long. Heavenly Father really did have a plan for me.

On a recent Saturday, I invited my friend Mandy to come with me to a Primary activity. She had never been to our church before, and she had a good time. She met new friends, and we learned about traffic safety and the eleventh article of faith.

After the activity, we went bike riding in our neighborhood. When we rode around the back of the nearby apartment complex, we saw an elderly woman lying on the ground at the foot of the stairs. Her hand was cut, and she wasn’t moving! It looked like she had fallen while going up the stairs to a second-story apartment. We raced our bikes back to my house to get my mom and dad.

“Dad! Mom! A woman fell, and she’s not moving! And there’s blood!”

My parents ran to help, and Mandy and I rode our bikes. When we all got back to her, the woman—Mrs. Sumner—could speak but was a little confused. We introduced ourselves and made sure that she hadn’t broken any bones. Then my mom and my dad helped her to stand up and climb the stairs to her apartment. She said that she would call the doctor about her hand.

Mom told us later that it was a good thing that we were out riding our bikes and saw Mrs. Sumner and went for help, or she might have lain there for a long time. Mrs. Sumner is eighty-five years old. She lives alone, and sometimes has trouble getting around.

The next day my dad and I went to see how she was doing, and later Mandy and I took her some apples that we had picked.

Now Mrs. Sumner is our friend, and she has invited us to visit whenever we want. Sometimes she gives us cookies, and once she gave us each a little ceramic angel she had made. She told Mandy and me that we are her “little angels.”

In our family home evening, we talked about the Good Samaritan and how Jesus Christ wants us to help our neighbors when they are in trouble. I am glad that Mandy and I could be Good Samaritans, especially because now we have a new friend!

For eg. with a zoom lens, forgiveness looks like something we do for the benefit of someone who has wronged us. For some victims, forgiveness can even look like a way to discount the horrible acts perpetrated against them-almost a way of winking at what they feel has ruined their lives forever.
With a zoom lens, forgiveness looks like a way to help the perpetrator's life-period!
However, with a wide-angle lens, we see that forgiveness is actually for victims!! With a view of the far-reaching effects of true forgiveness, we see that forgiveness is actually the gift that victims can give to themselves!
One woman found that by forgiving her perpetrator, she was finally freed from agonizing questions-questions that had held her mind and heart captive for years: Questions like: "Why did he? Why didn't he? Why did I? Why didn't I?"
When she really prayed for power to forgive the person whom she felt had ruined her life, she discovered that forgiveness was her "get out of jail free" card. She was now able to free herself from the prison of pain and suffering. A prison that her un-forgiveness had built.
So, when you're really ready to do something for yourself-forgive someone! A true slogan could be: Forgiveness: It's not just for perpetrators anymore!

Memorizing had never come easy for me, but when my mission president challenged all of us to memorize Alma’s testimony in Alma 5:45–46, I exercised a little faith and began to commit Alma’s words to memory. It took a couple of weeks and some effort in my morning study, but I did it.
A few days later my companion and I were teaching a group of college students, who began to ask us some pointed questions. One young man looked at me and asked, “Do you really believe all this?” Alma’s testimony flashed into my mind, and I began sharing my testimony, using many of his words: “I do know that these things whereof [we] have spoken are true. And how do [you] suppose that I know of their surety? … They are made known unto me by the Holy Spirit of God. … I have fasted and prayed many days that I might know these things of myself. And now I do know of myself that they are true; for the Lord God hath made them manifest unto me by his Holy Spirit; and this is the spirit of revelation which is in me.”
Alma’s words had become my words too. The Spirit softly confirmed them in my heart as I spoke them. The words also had an immediate effect on the people we were teaching. Their hearts softened. In that moment I experienced the blessings of memorizing a scripture passage. Alma’s words have continued to be a friend and comfort to me when I need them.

Margarette and her older brother, Wallace, were walking to school. Rain had made the ground very muddy. The children got stuck in the mud and could not move. They began to cry.
They looked up and saw the Prophet Joseph Smith coming toward them. He lifted both children out of the mud. Then he stooped and cleaned the mud from their shoes.
The Prophet Joseph Smith wiped the tears from their faces with his handkerchief. He spoke kind and cheering words to them.
Margarette and Wallace went on their way to school, rejoicing.

On September 11, 2001, I had just entered my classroom in the Taylor building when I noticed the television was on and turned to a news channel. Everyone in the room was watching intently as the morning events of 9/11 unfolded in New York City and Washington D.C. We all sat in stunned silence as we watched what would turn out to be the biggest news story of our young adult lives. Most who watched the events of that day remember exactly where they were and what they were doing at that moment. The same could be true for anyone who has experienced any life-altering event. In many cases, the life-altering events we experience are not being broadcast to the world, and very few people know about our personal challenges.
On 9/11, no one knew about the many different emotions I was experiencing as I walked across campus to class. I had recently returned from my mission, Ricks College was now BYU-Idaho, my declared major was no longer going to be offered, and I had just been dumped by my girlfriend. In that moment, I wasn’t sure how I would sort through my own challenges, which were now being compounded by the fear of the day’s events.
For weeks, I had been anxiously waiting to hear from President Bednar—now Elder Bednar—to see if he would say anything that could help me. Fortunately, devotional proceeded as planned and the devotional talk that day proved to be another life-altering moment. It was so impactful that I still remember where I was sitting in the Hart gymnasium as President Bednar taught about the Lord’s pattern for receiving revelation in our lives. Up until that moment, I had the same misunderstanding about receiving revelation that President Bednar addressed in his talk when he said:
In that moment, I felt foolish for the negative thoughts I had had on my mission when I would pray and ask the Lord why He wasn’t giving me clear direction while I was trying to do His work. I would often find myself feeling disappointed and second guessing my ability to receive revelation if it didn’t come “as a big answer quickly and all at one time.”[2] President Bednar went on to explain the Lord’s common pattern in which we receive revelation using 2 Nephi 28:30:
I had read this scripture several times during my mission, but somehow I had not understood its meaning. In that moment, I had several memories come to mind as the Spirit helped me recognize moments in my life when I had received revelation “line upon line, precept upon precept.”[4] The guilt and frustration I felt turned to gratitude and excitement as I listened to the rest of the talk and wrote down my impressions.