Gospel Story Finder

The following year I left Barranquilla, Colombia, to go to Bogotá for a month with my mother because she needed chemotherapy. During that time I prayed constantly and felt close to the Lord. I decided to change my university major, and through inspiration, I learned that the Lord wanted me to devote my life to teaching children. When I returned to school, I began working on a degree in special education.
I knew that Heavenly Father had given me my calling in Primary to prepare me. As I served, I discovered my true vocation, and as I lived the gospel and lost myself in service, I felt that I was in the Lord’s arms.

8. Keep your car locked when not in use. Not only does this discourage theft, but it can also prevent freak accidents. Recently two missionaries were in a home presenting a discussion when they noticed through the front window of the house that their car was rolling down the driveway into the street. A young boy of the household, attempting to play a trick on the elders, had backed the car out into heavy traffic. It was demolished and the boy ended up in the hospital. Whose fault? The missionaries’—for leaving the car unlocked and the keys in the ignition.

As a new General Authority, Elder Marion G. Romney (1897–1988) felt inadequate in fulfilling his important calling, so he sought advice from his friend Elder Harold B. Lee (1899–1973) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. The counsel offered that day both surprised and motivated Elder Romney. Elder Lee said: “If you are to be successful as a General Authority, you will need to be inspired. You will need to receive revelation. I will give you one piece of advice: Go to bed early and get up early. If you do, your body and mind will become rested and then in the quiet of those early morning hours, you will receive more flashes of inspiration and insight than at any other time of the day.”
Years later, reflecting back on that experience, then-President Romney said: “From that day on, I put that counsel into practice, and I know it works. Whenever I have a serious problem, or some assignment of a creative nature with which I hope to receive the influence of the Spirit, I always receive more assistance in the early morning hours than at any other time of the day.”1
When I first read this account, I too was surprised by the advice Elder Lee gave. I would never have connected an early daily schedule with revelation. However, I now know that there is a direct correlation. I have also learned that actions traditionally associated with receiving revelation like prayer, scripture study, fasting, temple attendance, and service are greatly enhanced when I go to bed early and get up early.

I remember a critical time in my life when a still small voice gave me direction to make an important decision. My family lived in Boston, Massachusetts, at the time. I had been with a retail firm for a number of years. To expand the business, we merged with a larger firm. Within a matter of months, I found myself in a very difficult situation. The new owners wanted me to violate a trust. I felt that I just could not do it. They continued to insist, and I continued to refuse. Finally, in order to solve the disagreement, I agreed to leave the company. The timing for me was devastating. I had a wife who was seriously ill and required a lot of medical attention, a daughter away at college, and a son on a mission. I spent the next year getting just enough consulting work to pay our expenses.
After struggling for about one year, a company called me from California and invited me to come out and talk to them about working for them. I went and was delighted with the opportunity. I told them that I had to return home and discuss it with my family before I could give them an answer. I returned home and convinced my family that it was the right thing to do. As I was calling the firm to accept the offer, a voice just as strong and powerful as I have ever heard came to me and said, “Say no to the offer.” I could not ignore the voice, so I turned the offer down, but I couldn’t understand why I had been told to do such a thing. I went upstairs to my bedroom, sat on the bed, and opened the scriptures. They fell open to the Doctrine and Covenants, section 111. These words in verses 5 and 7 jumped out from the page and met my eye: “Concern not yourselves about your debts, for I will give you power to pay them. …
“Tarry in this place, and in the regions round about.”
A great peace came to my soul. Within just a few days, I was offered a fine position there in Boston. A few months later, I had the great privilege of hosting a conference in which President Harold B. Lee, then First Counselor in the First Presidency, was the featured speaker. The following July, President Joseph Fielding Smith passed away and President Lee became the prophet. Three months later I was asked to come to Salt Lake, where I received a call to become a General Authority.

When I was 22, I had an opportunity to work at a center where I served girls who had experienced abuse and neglect. I felt sorry for them. I saw how the abuse broke their hearts and destroyed their love for themselves. Some of them attempted suicide. Some of them didn’t want to trust anyone. Many of them had no hope in life and didn’t feel the Savior’s love.
I often asked myself, “Could these abuses have been prevented? What if their perpetrators had received the gospel? What if their parents had become members of the Church before these girls were born?” I realized that these girls might not have experienced these trials if their parents and perpetrators had received and lived the gospel.
Reflecting on these questions and working at the center helped me see that all people need the gospel. Just as the army of Helaman in the Book of Mormon fought to defend their faith and families, the Lord needs full-time missionaries to share His gospel and protect His kingdom.
The experiences I had with the girls at the center inspired me to walk the path where the Lord wanted me to go. I decided I needed to join the Lord’s missionary army. He saw this desire, and I was called to serve in the Philippines Cauayan Mission.

It was a cold, blustery Sunday afternoon. I was away from home serving in the South African army, and the 10 men of our section had gathered in our tent to visit and relax after having just completed some chores. Unfortunately, much of the conversation became crude, as often happens among young men in such circumstances.
I was uncomfortable and thought about leaving. My eyes turned toward the tent door, which was flapping wildly in the wind and failing to hold back the chill of winter. The sight immediately convinced me it would be foolish to leave, so I decided to remain inside and read my scriptures. Although it had not been uncommon for me to read from them in the presence of these men, on this day it would prove to be difficult. The discussion soon took a turn for the worse as my friend, something of a ringleader in the group, began telling some dirty stories.
My immediate impulse was to object out loud. However, I was checked by the thought that others might consider me self-righteous and accuse me of trying to spoil their fun. After a few troubling moments, I decided to do the only thing I thought possible under the circumstances: shut my ears and concentrate on my reading. This approach worked somewhat. Yet I could not shrug off a feeling of uneasiness.
Time has a way of clouding our memories, and within a few weeks I forgot about the experience. Then, two years later, my friend did something that brought the memory of that day back into focus. We were in the presence of a number of soldiers who were drinking beer. In the group was a man I didn’t know. He began teasing me for not joining them in drinking a little alcohol. My friend rose to my defense and added with an earnestness that surprised me, “Chris Golden is the only true Christian in our group.” Others who knew me joined my friend in defending me, which silenced my critic.
Later, as my friend and I walked back toward our foxhole on a gray, half-moonlit night, he suddenly stopped and looked at me with a seriousness I had not been accustomed to during our friendship. He recalled the event of earlier that evening and said, “I meant what I said. In fact, I have never met an individual who has been more true to his faith in God than you, Chris!”
This was unexpected. Even though I had always tried to live the gospel, I felt I had not done more than many Latter-day Saints would have done in similar circumstances, and I had always tried to do it without drawing attention to myself.
Still, he had more to say: “You have let me down only once.” My shock at his matter-of-fact accusation was matched only by the speed with which my mind raced through all of the events we had shared together. I finally remembered that blustery, cold Sunday two years earlier. My friend’s words exposed painful memories of a day I would rather have forgotten.
He continued, “Do you remember that cold Sunday afternoon when we were sitting inside our tent and telling stories, some of which I now feel quite embarrassed about?”
I nodded a little numbly in acknowledgment. Standing opposite him, I hoped that the shadows of the night hid my discomfort.
He said, “While I was talking, I had been silently praying that you would ask me to stop telling those dirty stories—but you did nothing.”
During the long silence that followed his stinging condemnation, a deep sense of disappointment welled up within me. I had let not only him down, but I had failed the Lord—and myself.
Ever since that day, I have tried not to make the same mistake. I was taught an important lesson about the true meaning of the Lord’s command to “let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven” (Matt. 5:16). Observing that “no man can serve two masters” (Matt. 6:24), the Savior counseled us, “Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness” (Matt. 6:33).

My grandmother Marta Cziesla was a wonderful example of doing “small and simple things” to bring great things to pass. We lovingly called her Oma Cziesla. Oma embraced the gospel in the small village of Selbongen in East Prussia together with my great-grandmother on May 30, 1926.
Marta Cziesla (right) on the day of her baptism.
She loved the Lord and His gospel and was determined to keep the covenants she had made. In 1930 she married my grandfather, who was not a member of the Church. At this point it became impossible for Oma to attend Church meetings because my grandfather’s farm was far away from the nearest congregation. But she focused on what she could do. Oma continued to pray, read the scriptures, and sing the songs of Zion.
Some people might have thought she was no longer active in her faith, but that was far from the truth. When my aunt and my father were born, with no priesthood in the home and no Church meetings or access to ordinances nearby, she again did what she could do and focused on teaching her children “to pray, and to walk uprightly before the Lord.” She read to them from the scriptures, sang with them the songs of Zion, and of course prayed with them—every day. A 100 percent home-centered Church experience.
In 1945 my grandfather was serving in the war far away from home. When enemies approached their farm, Oma took her two little children and left their beloved farm behind to seek refuge in a safer place. After a difficult and life-threatening journey, they finally found refuge in May of 1945 in northern Germany. They had nothing left except the clothes on their bodies. But Oma continued with what she was able to do: she prayed with her children—every day. She sang with them the songs of Zion she had memorized by heart—every day.
Life was extremely hard and for many years focused on simply making sure there was food on the table. But in 1955 my dad, then 17 years old, was going to trade school in the city of Rendsburg. He walked by a building and saw a small sign on the outside that read “Kirche Jesu Christi der Heiligen der Letzten Tage”—“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” He thought, “That is interesting; this is Mother’s church.” So when he came home, he told Oma that he had found her church.
You can imagine how she must have felt after almost 25 years of no contact with the Church. She was determined to attend the next Sunday and convinced my father to accompany her. Rendsburg was more than 20 miles (32 km) away from the little village where they lived. But this would not keep Oma from attending church. The next Sunday, she got on her bicycle together with my father and rode to church.
When the sacrament meeting started, my dad sat down in the last row, hoping it would be over soon. This was Oma’s church and not his. What he saw was not very encouraging: only a few older women in attendance and two young missionaries who effectively ran everything in the meeting. But then they started to sing, and they sang the songs of Zion that my dad had heard since he was a little boy: “Come, Come, Ye Saints,” “O My Father,” “Praise to the Man.” Hearing this little flock sing the songs of Zion he’d known since childhood pierced his heart, and he knew immediately and without a doubt that the Church was true.
The first sacrament meeting my grandmother attended after 25 years was the meeting where my father received a personal confirmation of the truthfulness of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. He was baptized three weeks later, on September 25, 1955, together with my grandfather and my aunt.
It has been more than 70 years since that tiny sacrament meeting in Rendsburg. I often think about Oma, how she must have felt in those lonely nights, doing the small and simple things she was able to do, like praying, reading, and singing. As I stand here today in general conference and talk about my Oma, her determination to keep her covenants and trust in the Lord notwithstanding her struggles fills my heart with humility and gratitude—not only for her but for so many of our wonderful Saints throughout the world who focus on the simplicity in Christ in their challenging circumstances, perhaps seeing little change now but trusting that great things will come to pass some day in the future.

I was born into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, baptized by my father at eight years old, and fully active in the Church throughout my youth. When I completed my mission, my next goal in life was to find a choice daughter of God whom I could marry in the temple.
But I began seeking unwholesome entertainment and giving in to temptations. I started dating outside of the Church. Gradually I began compromising my personal standards, and I became inactive in the Church. Eventually I married someone outside the Church, and our marriage later ended in divorce.
I continued to give in to temptation. Deep down, I still had a testimony and a longing to be married to someone in the temple, but I felt unworthy of those blessings. I gave up hope that I would ever marry in the temple or have children, so I buried my feelings of guilt and coped with my feelings of worthlessness by seeking worldly happiness.
One night during my thirties, I was racked with the guilt of all my moral transgressions. I fell to my knees and cried unto the Lord with godly sorrow for the sins I had committed. I promised to live the law of chastity and changed my behavior.
But that was not my only struggle. I continued to spend the next seven years wallowing in the depths of drug addiction.
I felt utterly alone and trapped in my chemical dependency. Feeling extremely sick in my head, heart, and body, I felt on the verge of death many times. I had given up all hope that I would ever be free from the chains of addiction and depression that weighed me down.
One day I was at a crossroads; I had to decide whether or not I was going to fall further into this life of addiction and try to survive living on the streets. But I knew that decision would surely lead to my death. I knew that if I didn’t choose that option, then I needed to turn my life around and return to Jesus Christ.
I found myself sitting in my truck, absolutely consumed with a debilitating fear. With my phone in my hand, I stared at my dad’s contact information. I was so soul-sick and heavy of heart that I lacked the energy to even vocalize words. I felt that if I made the call and asked for help then I would be choosing life and that if I didn’t make the call I would surely be choosing death and damnation.
We Can All Be Cleansed
“We are all sinners who can be cleansed by repentance.”
President Dallin H. Oaks, “Cleansed by Repentance,” Liahona, May 2019, 92.
It took me over an hour to muster up enough courage to finally call my dad and ask if I could come over. When I got there, my parents and I had a lengthy discussion after which my dad offered to give me a priesthood blessing.
I accepted the offer and sat down, feeling truly humble and sincerely penitent. I exercised my faith in the power of God and His priesthood. I truly sought my Heavenly Father’s help. During the blessing, my thoughts turned to Him, pleading that He would bless me with strength and power as I tried to overcome this addiction. “Please, I don’t want to live like this anymore,” I prayed silently. “Please help me climb out of this hole that I’m in. Please help me because I can’t do it on my own.”
My dad’s hands were trembling as he spoke with power and conviction while administering the priesthood blessing. He said that Satan was working hard on me to keep me from my great potential. I felt that my decisions were also keeping me from blessing and uplifting others who could benefit from me setting a righteous example and influence. The blessing also repeatedly reminded me that I have the opportunity to overcome my addictions.
I knew there is no sin I’ve committed that I cannot come back from. As President Boyd K. Packer (1924–2015) taught:
“I know of no sins connected with the moral standard for which we cannot be forgiven. … The formula is stated in forty words:
“‘Behold, he who has repented of his sins, the same is forgiven, and I, the Lord, remember them no more.
By this ye may know if a man repenteth of his sins—behold, he will confess them and forsake them’ Doctrine and Covenants 58:42–43].”1
In the blessing my dad gave me, I was also blessed with power and strength to overcome my afflictions. I know my dad was truly inspired and was speaking with the authority of God.
When the blessing was over, I stood and embraced my father. We held each other, hugging for a long time. My mom joined in by putting her arms around both of us as I sobbed and sobbed into my dad’s shoulder, feeling such an overwhelming abundance of love and gratitude in my heart.
All of my feelings of hopelessness melted away. I began to feel the physical cravings of addiction and the heavy cloud of depression and inadequacy that had plagued me for so long wash away. I instantly felt a newfound gusto and enthusiasm for life and for all the possibilities for joy that I might have if I choose what is right and submit to the will of my Heavenly Father. I wanted to live with the attitude that Jesus Christ exemplified in all things: “Not my will, but thine, be done” (Luke 22:42).
I moved forward on my path toward Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ with renewed determination and strength.
The Prize Is Worth the Price of Repentance
“What does it mean to repent? We begin with a dictionary’s definition that to repent is ‘to turn from sin … to feel sorrow [and] regret.’ To repent from sin is not easy. But the prize is worth the price. Repentance needs to be done one step at a time. Humble prayer will facilitate each essential step.”
President Russell M. Nelson, “Repentance and Conversion,” Liahona, May 2007, 102.
Sometime later, the adversary continued his temptations; someone close to me kept trying to convince me to come over and drink with him. He was pressuring me with the lie that drinking isn’t a big deal as long as you’re not an alcoholic. I felt the inner struggle—on one hand I wanted to have that relationship and common ground with that person, but on the other hand I wanted to show Heavenly Father my love and gratitude by keeping the Word of Wisdom. While I was struggling with these thoughts, my phone dinged and lit up across the room. I went to see what it was—a Facebook notification with a quote from President Thomas S. Monson’s talk “Principles and Promises”:
“The Word of Wisdom … gives specific direction regarding the food we eat, and it prohibits the use of substances which are harmful to our bodies.
“Those who are obedient to the Lord’s commandments and who faithfully observe the Word of Wisdom are promised particular blessings, among which are good health and added physical stamina [see Doctrine and Covenants 89:18–21].”2
It is my testimony that Heavenly Father saw fit to send me that specific message at the exact time I was struggling. While answers may not always come that directly and we should always seek to follow the commandments, I was grateful for that blessing. I knew what my decision needed to be and the course I needed to keep following in my life. I needed to confess and forsake my sins and continue to turn away from all ungodliness. I needed to become sanctified through the power of Jesus Christ and His Atonement. I understood that “this life is the time for [me] to prepare to meet God” (Alma 34:32) and to “prove [myself] herewith, to see if [I] will do all things whatsoever the Lord [my] God shall command [me]” (Abraham 3:25). I understood that this is the time to overcome my physical addictions, while I still have a mortal body. And I understood that I needed to show Heavenly Father a mighty change of heart (see Mosiah 5:2; see also Alma 5:12–14) and “have no more disposition to do evil, but to do good continually” (Mosiah 5:2).
Through repentance (including working with my priesthood leaders), followed by every righteous decision I’ve made since then, I have opened myself to the doors of heaven and allowed Heavenly Father to pour out His blessings upon me.
A few months after my change of heart, my future wife, Malaina, came into my life and our courtship began. I was grateful to now be ready for our future together. Dating Malaina was really like a fairy-tale dream come true! Both of us had been hurt by past relationships, and we found love and understanding in each other. We both wanted with all our hearts to be worthy of a temple marriage. Six months after we started dating, we were sealed in the Seattle Washington Temple.
Heavenly Father blessed me with a loving wife who understands the power of Jesus Christ’s Atonement and what it means to be cleansed through repentance. Malaina loves me for the man I am today and not for the mistakes of my past. Her personal testimony and love of the Savior continually gives me strength and a desire to fulfill the full measure of my creation. She is truly the companion I always dreamed of having, and together we’ve been blessed with two children.
I find it amazing how much my life has turned around for the better in just a few short years. I feel that to have risen out of the hole I was once in to where I am now is truly a miracle. It’s my personal testimony that through sincere repentance and faith in Jesus Christ all things are possible! I am living proof of that.
Our Savior Stands Ready to Cleanse Us
“We must not ‘procrastinate the day of [our] repentance’ until death, Amulek taught (Alma 34:33), because the same spirit that has possessed our body in this life—whether the Lord’s or the devil’s—‘will have power to possess [our] body in that eternal world’ (Alma 34:34). Our Savior has the power and stands ready to cleanse us from evil. Now is the time to seek His help to repent of our wicked or unseemly desires and thoughts to be clean and prepared to stand before God at the Final Judgment.”
President Dallin H. Oaks, “Cleansed by Repentance,” Liahona, May 2019, 94.

Let me share a sweet story with you. A family was going through a difficult time. It was hard for them not to focus on their challenges. The mother wrote: “Our world had completely crumpled, so we turned to Heavenly Father for guidance. Almost immediately we realized that we were surrounded by goodness and were being cheered on from every side. We began as a family to express our gratitude to each other as well as to the Lord daily. A close friend pointed out to me that our family’s ‘blessing basket’ was overflowing. From that conversation came a sort of game, which my children and I grew to love. Before family prayer each night we would talk about how our day had gone and then share with each other all of the many blessings that had been added to our ‘blessing basket.’ The more we expressed gratitude, the more there was to be grateful for. We felt the love of the Lord in a significant way as opportunities for growth presented themselves.”

Pepito turned and looked back at the rancho. His eyes were filled with tears. All his worldly belongings were inside the small burlap sack slung over his shoulder. How hard it was to leave the only home he had ever known and the horses he had loved and tended.
It was really his love of horses that had cost Pepito his job and home. To break a stallion’s spirit, Garcia, a cruel groom, had tied him in his stall and left him without food and water. When Pepito had smuggled food and water to the horse, he had been caught and fired without being allowed to explain what had happened.
An orphan, Pepito had no choice but to walk along the hot, dusty road toward the nearest town, a good day’s ride away. To find a stable master there who was in need of a good groom was his only hope.
Pepito trudged on, not stopping until midafternoon to take even a sip of water from his goatskin bag or to eat even one of the corn tortillas the kindly cook had given him. Wearily he sat in the shelter of a large boulder. His head began to nod.
Pepito awoke to the cool night air blowing across his face—and had he just dreamed that he’d heard slow, heavy steps? Suddenly he heard the low but unmistakable whinny of a horse! He scrambled atop the boulder and peered through the darkness. There! Something was moving through the brush not far away.
Pepito’s heart beat wildly. His one dream had always been to have a horse of his own. If he could catch this horse, he could ride it into town. And if it had no owner, he could claim it!
Pepito moved carefully through the brush. He had no rope and could only hope to take the animal by surprise. Closer he crept, and in the pale moonlight he finally saw it. Pepito gasped. She was the most beautiful mare he had ever seen! Her features were small and dainty, and she looked fleet of hoof. Her color was of the palest gold, and her mane and tail were as white as flax.
Pepito stood motionless and stared. The mare turned and regarded him with soft, liquid eyes. She showed no fear, and Pepito’s heart went out to her. Such a horse must surely belong to a princess, he thought. She must be lost in this wild country. He could see now that her coat was caked with mud and brambles. There were sunken places around her eyes. And she was heavy with foal.
Pepito knew that the mare needed food and water badly. She could not hope to give birth and survive alone in such rough country. He would have to help her! He quickly ran back and got his sack, poured water from his water bag into his sombrero, and, holding it before him, walked slowly toward the horse.
The mare sniffed the air. Her ears pricked, and without hesitation she came to Pepito and began drinking the water from his hat. When the water was gone, Pepito rolled up his few remaining tortillas and fed them to her one by one until they were gone. The mare’s eyes were filled with trust and gratitude. She nuzzled Pepito’s hand, and both of them knew that each had found a friend. Princesa, I will call you, Pepito decided. My Princesa.
Pepito knew that the mare’s time was very near. He worked quickly to clear a soft, sheltered place for her to rest. The mare seemed to understand his intent, for when he was done, she lay down at once.
Pepito kept watch nearby, afraid that some enemy would find her—a snake, or perhaps a scorpion. He drank the last of his water and ate a few nuts. Tomorrow he would have to find food and water for them both somewhere among the sagebrush and mesquite.
Pepito awakened with a start. The warm morning sun was in his face. He leapt to his feet! He had not meant to sleep. Had it all been a dream? But no, there lay Princesa; and nuzzling by her side was a tiny reddish colt! Pepito studied the foal. He was as finely built as his mother, built to run with the wind. Vientito, I will call you, he decided. Little Wind.
Pepito set off immediately to find water for the mare. If the colt was to survive, its mother must have strength to feed him. The boy scrambled down into a deep arroyo and began to dig with all his might. His face and clothing were soon caked with dirt and sweat, but finally his effort was rewarded. The sand grew moist, moister, till at last a small pool formed.
Pepito filled his sombrero again and again and carried it to the mare. Only when her thirst was slaked did he stop to rest and to drink. Then he went out once more to gather all the coarse grass he could find. It was not corn or oats, but it was the best that he could do. No matter where he looked, he could find no food for himself. He had only a handful of nuts left to sustain him until the mare and her foal were well enough to travel.
By afternoon Pepito was exhausted. He lay in the shade of the boulder, feeling weak and dizzy. The mare was stronger now, and she struggled to her feet and nickered encouragingly to her colt. The foal struggled and fell, struggled and fell, till finally his spindly legs supported him, and he wobbled to his mother and began to nurse. Pepito’s heart sang. Soon they would ride with the wind, the colt galloping after them!
Two days passed, and the bond between them grew, but the mare again weakened. Her ribs showed, and her coat was lusterless. Pepito soothed and groomed her the best that he could, but he began to despair. There was so little grass left, the water hole was beginning to dry, his nuts were gone, and vultures could be seen circling above them.
Pepito had no strength left; his skin was parched, and he could barely walk. He fell to the sand, dimly aware of a sound like distant thunder. Horses! He struggled to his feet and stumbled toward the road. He must get help! If there were horsemen, too, they would probably realize Princesa’s value and take her from him, but it was better than watching her die!
He reached the road and waved his sombrero wildly. As the riders slowed and came to a stop, Pepito collapsed in the dirt in front of them.
Pepito opened his eyes. He was lying in a bed, in a huge room with white walls! Standing at the foot of the bed was a handsome young man and the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Her hair was the color of the mare’s, her eyes as soft and brown, and her features as finely chiseled.
The girl smiled at him. “We found you; and we found my Estrellita (Little Star) and her foal. I can never thank you enough for saving her,” the girl said. “We saw how you had cared for them. They are well. Come and see!” She took his hand and helped him to the window.
Pepito gasped. Here was a rancho bigger than any he had seen. A small river ran through green pastures, and trees dotted the hills. Cattle and horses were everywhere, and a huge stable crowned the highest hill. There in a paddock near the house was Princesa, well groomed and contented; by her side was the frisky foal.
Happy-sad tears stung Pepito’s eyes. The mare was safe at home, which made him happy, but she had no further need of him, which made him sad. But what was the girl saying?
“… and she will still need great care and a good groom—one for whom she has affection.”
Pepito turned and stared at her, hope making his heart beat quickly.
“Devotion and courage such as you have shown are rare indeed,” she continued softly. “Will you stay and be my Estrellita’s groom and train her foal for me? It would please me greatly.”
Speechless, Pepito clasped her hands and nodded ecstatically. He could stay with his Princesa—no, Estrellita! He would train Vientito! And he had found a home!

On the bus to work one morning, I took a window seat. Before long I became aware of a little bee trying to get itself out of a fix. It was trapped between the two glass panels of the window, and no matter how hard it tried, it couldn’t find its way out. Encased in a transparent prison, it could see freedom but couldn’t find an escape route. Perhaps frightened, it beat its wings furiously and desperately threw itself against the glass.
I’ve always been a person who didn’t like to see anyone or anything hurt. So after observing the bee for some time, I began to try to get it out of its difficulty. But lacking trust and understanding of my desire to help, it didn’t take advantage of the assistance I offered. In fact, all it did was continue to throw itself against the window. Finally I began to get a bit irritated.
Before I got to my stop and after the poor little bee had suffered much, it managed to get out of its predicament. From it I learned that we also can overcome trials—suffering less if we turn to and trust in Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, to whom all adversity is transparent.

Preston ran down the court. He caught a pass from his teammate. Swish! He made a basket just as the recess bell rang!
I wish I could have made one more basket, Preston thought as he walked into the classroom and sat down at his desk. He could hear his classmates laughing behind him and turned around to see what was going on. They were making fun of a boy named Jacob. Again.
Preston didn’t know Jacob very well. He knew Jacob liked to draw. The boys were passing around one of Jacob’s drawings and laughing at it. Jacob was looking down at his desk.
I need to do something, Preston thought.
He walked over and grabbed the drawing. It was a picture of a police officer. “Hey, I like this picture. Do you have any others?” he asked Jacob.
Jacob smiled. He showed Preston drawings of a robot, a dog, and a dinosaur. They were good! The police officer was Preston’s favorite.
“Can I have it?” Preston asked.
“Sure,” Jacob said.
That night while Preston was doing his homework at the table, Mom saw the picture of the police officer. “What’s this?” she asked.
“A kid named Jacob in my class drew it,” Preston said. “Some of the boys were making fun of it, so I asked if I could have it. Everyone stopped making fun of him after that.”
Mom smiled and hung the picture on the refrigerator with a magnet. “That was a kind thing to do,” she said.
Seeing Jacob’s drawing on the fridge gave Preston an idea.
“Hey, Mom, you know how we’re submitting drawings to the county fair?”
“Yeah,” Mom said.
“What if we submitted Jacob’s drawing? I bet it’d win a ribbon!”
“That’s a great idea!” Mom said.
“Can we make it a surprise?” Preston asked. “I want to see Jacob’s face when he sees his picture!”
Mom nodded. “I’ll give Jacob’s mom a call to make sure it’s OK with her.”
The next day, when Preston was playing basketball at recess, he saw Jacob sitting alone. Preston walked over.
“Hey,” he said as he sat down next to Jacob.
“Hey.”
“My mom and sisters and I are going to the fair next week,” Preston said. “Want to come with us?”
“Sure!” said Jacob.
The next week, Preston and his family picked up Jacob and drove to the fair. There were lots of fun games and rides, but Preston wanted to go straight to the art booth before anything else.
Preston looked at all the drawings, but there was one he especially wanted to find.
“All right!” Preston shouted. There was Jacob’s police officer. And attached to the drawing was a blue ribbon!
Jacob’s eyes got big. Then he smiled. “That’s my drawing!”
Mom and Preston’s sisters caught up. “Mom, look what Jacob got!” Preston said, pointing to the drawing.
“That’s great!” Mom said.
“And look at yours,” Preston’s sister said. Preston’s drawing of a tiger had won a blue ribbon too!
Preston gave Jacob a high five. No matter what other people said, he was glad they could be blue-ribbon friends.

We are protected as we follow the living prophet. How have you been protected as a family by following President Hinckley’s counsel to read the Book of Mormon? I recently received a note from a sister in England. She wrote:
“My family has struggled in the last year with a father who has chosen not to attend church any longer. He has been active all his life and has been in bishoprics. My heart has cried to the Lord about what I can do to not feel resentment and bitterness. I have family home evening and prayer on my own with the children. While in the temple I felt prompted, because of the challenge to read the Book of Mormon, to not have scripture time alone with the children but take the children and the scriptures to my husband, wherever he may be in the house. So off we march, every night at 9:00, to find him. He reads with us—not at first, but now he does. He is coming to church, meeting with us in family home evening, and leading gospel discussions. My children were the Lord’s feet and carried the words of redeeming love to my husband. This has been a great blessing to my family.”

My friend of many years spent his life as a rancher, doing the hard work of raising cattle and sheep in the rugged Rocky Mountains. He once shared with me the challenges and hazards associated with raising sheep. He described that in early spring, when snow on the expansive mountain range had mostly melted, he placed the family herd of approximately 2,000 sheep in the mountains for the summer. There, he watched over the sheep until late fall, when they were moved from the summer range to a winter range in the desert. He described how tending a large flock of sheep was difficult, requiring early days and late nights—waking well before sunrise and finishing long after dark. He could not possibly do it alone.

Others helped tend the flock, including a mix of experienced ranch hands assisted by younger hands who were benefiting from the wisdom of their companions. He also relied on two old horses, two colts in training, two old sheepdogs, and two or three sheepdog pups. Over the course of the summer, my friend and his sheep faced wind and rainstorms, sickness, injuries, drought, and just about every other hardship one can imagine. Some years they had to haul water all summer just to keep the sheep alive. Then, every year in late fall, when winter weather threatened and the sheep were taken off the mountain and counted, there were usually more than 200 that were lost.

The flock of 2,000 sheep placed in the mountains in early spring was reduced to less than 1,800. Most of the missing sheep were not lost to sickness or natural death but to predators such as mountain lions or coyotes. These predators usually found the lambs that had strayed from the safety of the flock, withdrawing themselves from the protection of their shepherd. Would you consider for a moment what I have just described in a spiritual context? Who is the shepherd? Who is the flock? Who are those who assist the shepherd?

The Lord Jesus Christ Himself said, “I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep, … and I lay down my life for the sheep.”7
The prophet Nephi likewise taught that Jesus “shall feed his sheep, and in him they shall find pasture.”8 I find abiding peace in knowing that “the Lord is my shepherd”9 and that each of us is known by Him and under His care. When we confront life’s wind and rainstorms, sickness, injuries, and drought, the Lord—our Shepherd—will minister to us. He will restore our souls.

In the same way that my friend tended his sheep with the assistance of young and old ranch hands, horses, and sheepdogs, the Lord also requires assistance in the challenging labor of caring for the sheep in His flock.

As children of a loving Heavenly Father and as sheep in His flock, we enjoy the blessing of being individually ministered to by Jesus Christ. Simultaneously, we have a responsibility to provide ministering assistance to others around us as shepherds ourselves. We heed the words of the Lord to “serve me and go forth in my name, and … gather together my sheep.”10
Who is a shepherd? Every man, woman, and child in the kingdom of God is a shepherd. No calling is required. From the moment we emerge from the waters of baptism, we are commissioned to this work. We reach out in love to others because it is what our Savior commanded us to do. Alma emphasized: “For what shepherd … having many sheep doth not watch over them, that the wolves enter not and devour his flock? … Doth he not drive him out?”11 Whenever our neighbors are in distress temporally or spiritually, we run to their aid. We bear one another’s burdens that they may be light. We mourn with those who mourn. We comfort those who stand in need of comfort.12 The Lord lovingly expects this of us. And the day will come when we will be held accountable for the care we take in ministering to His flock.13

My shepherd friend shared another important element in the watchcare of sheep on the range. He described that lost sheep were particularly vulnerable to the dangers of predators. In fact, up to 15 percent of his and his team’s total time was devoted to finding lost sheep. The sooner they found lost sheep, before the sheep drifted too far from the flock, the less likely the sheep were to be harmed. Recovering lost sheep required much patience and discipline.

Some years ago, I found an article in a local newspaper so intriguing that I saved it. The front-page headline read, “Determined Dog Won’t Abandon Lost Sheep.”14 This article describes a small number of sheep belonging to an operation not far from my friend’s property that were somehow left behind in their summer range. Two or three months later, they became stranded and snowbound in the mountains. When the sheep were left behind, the sheepdog stayed with them, for it was his duty to look after and protect the sheep. He would not go off watch! There he remained—circling about the lost sheep for months in the cold and snowy weather, serving as a protection against coyotes, mountain lions, or any other predator that would harm the sheep. He stayed there until he was able to lead or herd the sheep back to the safety of the shepherd and the flock. The image captured on the front page of this article allows one to see character in the eyes and demeanor of this sheepdog.

In the New Testament, we find a parable and instruction from the Savior that provide further insight pertaining to our responsibility as shepherds, ministering sisters and brothers, of lost sheep:
“What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it?
“And when he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing.
“And when he cometh home, he calleth together his friends and neighbours, saying unto them, Rejoice with me; for I have found my sheep which was lost.”15
As we summarize the lesson taught in the parable, we find this valuable counsel:
We are to identify the lost sheep.
We search after them until they are found.
When they are found, we may have to lay them on our shoulders to bring them home.
We surround them with friends upon their return.
Brothers and sisters, our greatest challenges and our greatest rewards may come as we minister to lost sheep. The members of the Church in the Book of Mormon “watch[ed] over their people, and did nourish them with things pertaining to righteousness.”16 We can follow their examples and remember that ministering is to be “led by the Spirit, … flexible, and … customized to the needs of each member.” It is also critical that we “seek to help individuals and families prepare for their next ordinance, keep [their] covenants … , and become self-reliant.”17
Every soul is precious to our Heavenly Father. His personal invitation to minister is of greatest value and importance to Him, for it is His work and glory. It is quite literally the work of eternity. Each one of His children has immeasurable potential in His sight. He loves you with a love you cannot even begin to comprehend. Like the devoted sheepdog, the Lord will stay on the mountain to protect you through the wind, rainstorms, snow, and more.
President Russell M. Nelson taught us last conference: “Our message to the world [and, may I add, “to our ministering flock”] is simple and sincere: we invite all of God’s children on both sides of the veil to come unto their Savior, receive the blessings of the holy temple, have enduring joy, and qualify for eternal life.”18
May we raise our sights to this prophetic vision so we can shepherd souls to the temple and ultimately to our Savior, Jesus Christ. He does not expect us to perform miracles. He asks only that we bring our brothers and sisters unto Him, for He has the power to redeem souls. As we do so, we can and will secure this promise: “And when the chief Shepherd shall appear, ye shall receive a crown of glory that fadeth not away.”19 Of this I testify—and of Jesus Christ as our Savior and our Redeemer—in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Elder Ulisses Soares told the story of a boy who followed the example of Captain Moroni. The boy saw his classmates looking at bad pictures on their cell phones. He had to make a quick decision. He was filled with courage and told his friends that what they were doing was not right. Most of his classmates made fun of him, but one friend decided to stop looking at the pictures. Elder Soares said we can be strong like Captain Moroni and stand up for our testimony of truth.

Even when Miguel was only two years old, he was taking care of the sick. His grandmother had been against her daughter’s family joining the Church. When she became ill with cancer and moved in with them, he became her constant companion. He comforted and loved her. He would stay with her when she wanted someone near. He did small errands for her until she died. When she saw how the gospel had brought the family closer together and taught them to serve one another, she agreed to listen to the missionaries. Before she died, she wanted to be baptized. But she was too sick to do so. Miguel knows that even though she couldn’t be baptized in this life, she will accept the temple work done for her after her death and will be an important part of their eternal family.

Illustrations by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
Wow! Fried chicken!
And mashed potatoes and gravy! And apple pie! When do we eat?
It’s not for us. We’re making dinner for Brother Albertson.
Why is the good stuff always for somebody else?
Yeah, aren’t you forgetting about us?
Of course not. But Sister Albertson passed away yesterday, and Brother Albertson feels terribly sad and lonely.
He may not even feel like eating, but we want him to know that we care. And maybe a hot meal will comfort him just a teeny little bit. What do you think?
I want to help cook!
Me too!
Wonderful! How about whipping up your famous Matt and Mandy salad?

Eva liked nursery. She liked her teachers and singing time. Her favorite song was “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam.” But now it was time for Eva to go to Primary. Many children were in the Primary room. A teacher said, “Hello, Eva! I am Sister Moya. I am glad you are in our Sunbeam class!” Eva smiled. She liked being a sunbeam. The piano started playing. Eva knew the song! She sang, “Jesus wants me for a sunbeam.” Eva knew she would like being a Sunbeam in Primary.

Phyllis Peterson of Lindon, Utah, once mentioned to a friend that her children seemed to quarrel all day while they were with her. “Maybe the problem is me,” she said—and her words hit like lightning.
As she thought about areas she could improve in her life, Sister Peterson recalled a statement by President Marion G. Romney, who served as a counselor in the First Presidency. He said that if parents would read from the Book of Mormon prayerfully and regularly, the spirit of contention would depart from their homes. (See Ensign, May 1980, p. 67.) Although the Petersons had been reading the scriptures as a family, Sister Peterson had let her personal study slide. “I determined then to change,” she says. “And within a week, the children started getting along better. Why? I found that I was calm and could better reason with them.”

It was a rainy day, and everyone was gathered at Grandma’s house. Dad and Uncle Carl were putting new paneling in Grandma’s game room while Mom, Aunt Shirley, and Grandma were busy in the kitchen.
When Aunt Shirley went to set the dining room table, she said, “Stevie, dinner won’t be ready for a while. Why don’t you play somewhere else?”
Carly went to the table and knelt to look under the jiggling, low-hanging tablecloth at her cousin. “What are you doing?” she asked.
Stevie shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Come up to the attic with me.”
Stevie grinned. As they passed the den, Carly paused. “Becka, do you want to go up to the attic with us?” she asked.
Her cousin looked up from a book that she was reading and wrinkled her nose. “Yuck!” she replied. “Too many spiders!”
“I’m not afraid of spiders,” Stevie announced as he and Carly climbed the stairs to the second floor.
“Neither am I,” Carly said. They walked side by side along the carpeted hallway. “Have you ever been in Grandma’s attic?” she asked as they neared the closed attic door.
“Maybe a long time ago,” Stevie replied. “Becka says it’s spooky.”
Carly shrugged. “It’s not spooky, just dusty.” She opened the door at the bottom of the stairs and raced up them eagerly. When she reached the top, she looked around and motioned to Stevie. “Come on,” she called happily. “You can see everything from up here.”
She went to the dormer and looked out. Below, the yard and rolling hills were washed with a fine gray mist from the rain. When Stevie reached her, she moved to make room for him to rest his elbows on the windowsill.
“See? I’m not afraid of spiders,” he said proudly.
Carly nodded. “I didn’t think you were.”
“If the weather was nicer, there’d be something to do,” he sighed.
“There’s always stuff to do,” Carly said. She walked beneath the slanted ceiling toward Grandpa’s old rolltop desk and slid back the cover.
“That’s a funny-looking book,” Stevie said, pointing at a thick volume inside the desk.
“That’s the kind of book that Grandpa read.”
“How could he read when he was blind?” Stevie asked curiously.
Carly chuckled. “He read the words with his fingers. Here, give me your hand.” She opened the book and moved his fingers slowly across the page. “Feel the dots?” she asked. “It’s called Braille writing.”
Stevie frowned. “I wouldn’t want to read a book that way.”
“You would if you couldn’t see.” Carly put the book back inside the desk. “Grandpa made this desk, too,” she announced with a smile.
Stevie looked at her with wide eyes. “Oh, wow! Even though he couldn’t see?” He ran his hand over the finely finished wood. “It’s as smooth as glass!”
Carly nodded. “He said that he knew what the desk looked like, even though he couldn’t see it with his eyes. He saw lots of things people who are sighted never even notice.”
“How’d he do that?”
Carly smiled. “Shut your eyes and tell me what you know without looking.”
Stevie closed his eyelids tightly. “It’s dark,” he said with a giggle.
“That isn’t what I meant,” she said. “I’ll do it.” She closed her eyes and stood quietly. “You have to listen and feel and stuff,” she explained. “I hear the rain falling and trickling through the downspout. It almost sounds like quiet music. I smell a roast cooking and musty books … and dust. The air up here feels warm against my skin, and I can tell that the floor is bare. You moved behind me,” she added as Stevie tiptoed around her. “Now you’re picking something up.”
Stevie took her hand. “Here,” he said as he put something in it. “Tell me what this is.”
Carly closed her fingers loosely around the material. “It’s an old hunting coat,” she said as she followed the lines with her fingers. “It’s trimmed with leather and it’s dusty. There’s a jagged tear here. Maybe it was caught on a thorn. Now someone’s coming up the stairs.”
Stevie moved closer to her and grabbed her hand.
“I feel the floorboards moving slightly, and a draft just blew across my ankles.” Carly opened her eyes and turned toward the stairs.
“It’s only Becka,” Stevie said with relief.
“I knew that you’d be pretending that you were blind again!” Becka said with a scowl.
“Carly was showing me how Grandpa saw things!” Stevie explained excitedly.
“Grandpa didn’t see things!” Becka insisted. “He remembered them from the time that he could see; that’s all!”
Carly frowned. “He saw things, Becka!”
Becka tossed her head and turned back toward the stairs. “It’s too musty up here for me!” she replied with a shiver of disgust. “You’d better come with me, Stevie—before she has you acting weird too!”
“Did Mom want me to come down?” he asked.
His sister didn’t answer.
“I’ll stay up here with Carly, then,” he said.
Becka stomped down the stairs and slammed the door behind her. Carly sighed and laid the hunting coat on top of a dust-covered trunk.
“Tell me more about Grandpa,” Stevie pleaded.
“Too bad you didn’t live around here when he was alive, Stevie. He was really nice, like Grandma. He could tell by the way the birds sang if it was going to rain or if it was going to be a nice day. And by the smell in the air, he could tell when spring was coming or if there would be a frost. He said that he could tell what kind of mood I was in just by the way I hugged him or the way I walked.”
“How could he, Carly?”
“Grandpa said that some people look and don’t see; they touch but don’t feel; they listen but don’t hear. He said that God gives us more abilities than we ever think about until we lose one of them—like he lost his eyesight. Then we start to use the others just as he started to see by using his senses of touch, taste, smell, and hearing. Grandpa said that most of all we could learn to see with our hearts.”
Stevie nodded thoughtfully. “Could I learn to see with my heart, too?” he asked.
“Sure,” Carly replied. “All you have to do is start using it that way. The more you learn to see with your heart, the better you’ll become at it.”
“Becka doesn’t have a heart!”
Carly chuckled. “Sure she does, and some day she’ll learn to see with it more too.”
“Thanks for asking me to come up here with you,” Stevie told her. “It was boring under the table.”
Carly grinned. “I’m glad that you did.” Grandma’s tinkling bell sounded from far away in the dining room. “We’d better go down now,” Carly said.
At the top of the stairs, Stevie turned. “I don’t care what Becka says—I know that Grandpa really could see.”