Gospel Story Finder

Early on a Saturday morning, 19 December 1987, my family piled into our van to make the four-hour trek from Shelley, Idaho, to Salt Lake City, Utah, to finish our Christmas shopping and to see the lights on Temple Square. The trip felt routine. We had made it several times before, and I quickly fell asleep in the backseat.
After less than an hour I awoke in terror as the van jerked to the left, then to the right. Suddenly I was thrown from the vehicle and landed on my backside on the cold, snow-covered roadside. Only moments before, my mother had fastened my one-year-old sister into her car seat after feeding her but failed to buckle her own seatbelt. I sat rubbing my hip, listening to our van tumble in the background and trying to recall the circumstances in which I had fallen asleep.
When the van came to a rest, everything was silent for a moment. Then, as I caught sight of our mangled van, I began to realize what had happened, though still not understanding the magnitude of the tragic event.
Bruised slightly and quite confused, I walked to the wreckage and my family. Everyone appeared to be in pain. I stepped close to my mother, who sat leaning against the van’s tire, and asked how she was. The indecisive phrase “I don’t know” satisfied my frightened mind.
Within minutes an emergency helicopter arrived to rush my mother and five-year-old brother, Josh, to a nearby hospital. I climbed into one of two ambulances that carried the rest of my battered family to the emergency room. Suffering from a mere scrape on my back, I was the least injured.
My family dispersed into various examination rooms for individual treatment before we were reunited an hour or so later in a small hospital room at the request of my father. I looked around the room at family members whose medical treatments were temporarily postponed and began to worry about the effects of this unthinkable tragedy. Two of our family were missing: Josh, who I later learned was in a coma in critical condition, and Mom.
The words my father then spoke will never fade from memory.
“Mom is dead,” he mumbled beneath his tears.
My heart sank, and my eyes also filled with tears. The room was silent for a few moments as these words sank in.
“Who’s going to cook for us?” nine-year-old Sarah asked.
Dad replied with the best words of comfort he could think of under the circumstances. “I don’t know. We’ll work something out.”
Christmas was different that year, falling only six days after the accident. We postponed celebrating the holiday until Josh had recuperated enough to join the family. Then, on our special Christmas morning, my seven brothers and sisters and I gathered in a circle around the tree with my dad to open presents. As was tradition in our family, the youngest, my one-year-old sister, picked the first present to open. She chose a gift my mother had prepared for the family before her death.
Dad removed the wrapping paper from a framed cross-stitch that read, “The circle of our love is Forever.” The implication of that simple phrase brought peace to my family in that time of trial, and the meaning behind the words has bound us together ever since with the knowledge that we will see our mother again.

In December 2016, my husband developed pneumonia. We were living in Moscow, Russia, where Bruce was serving in the Europe East Area Presidency. The doctors said he would need to stay in the hospital for a few days to receive antibiotics. That night his health took a dramatic turn for the worse, and they placed him in an induced coma.

For the next 10 days, I got up each morning, pleading for the Lord’s help as I drove to the metro station, rode for 45 minutes on the subway, and then walked the remaining blocks to the hospital. I sat all day by Bruce’s side in the intensive care unit as he lay perfectly still, unable to talk or move, surrounded by monitors of all kinds. Each evening I reversed my trip, arriving home to gather our belongings in preparation for our return to Utah.

Even now, I remember that in those cold, dark days, I never felt afraid as I traveled on the subway. I remember the peace and calm I felt as I sat by Bruce’s bed in the hospital. At home each night, I was alone but not lonely.

However, shortly after we returned to Utah, Bruce passed away.

Recently, as I recalled those long days, the Lord spoke clearly to my mind, “I did this for you.” In that moment, the Lord let me know that the peace I had felt, the safety I had experienced, and the sense that I was not alone had come from a loving Heavenly Father and His Son. They had extended mercy to me in my weakness.4

When I was baptized I wanted to have a strong testimony like other members of the Church. I fasted and prayed until I gained a small testimony, but I still felt a little sad. Then I read “A Growing Testimony” by President James E. Faust, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, in the January 2001 Liahona (Spanish). President Faust said that our testimonies will continue to grow, and I know this is true. My testimony is getting stronger every day. I’m grateful and happy to be a Latter-day Saint and to have a growing testimony.
Gilberto Cordero Castro,Coronado Branch, San José Costa Rica Toyopán Stake

It was a summer day. My mother died in the early afternoon. My father, my brother, and I had gone from the hospital to our family home, just the three of us. We fixed ourselves a snack; then we talked with visitors. It grew late, dusk fell, and I remember we still had not turned on the lights.
Dad answered the doorbell. It was Aunt Catherine and Uncle Bill. I could see that Uncle Bill was holding a bottle of cherries. I can still see the deep red, almost purple, cherries and the shiny gold cap on the jar. He said, “You might enjoy these. You probably haven’t had dessert.”
We hadn’t. The three of us sat around the kitchen table, put some cherries in bowls, and ate them as Uncle Bill and Aunt Catherine cleared some dishes.
As nearly as I can tell, the giving and receiving of a great gift always has three parts. Here they are, illustrated by that gift of cherries.
First, I knew that Uncle Bill and Aunt Catherine had felt what I was feeling. They must have felt we’d be too tired to fix much food. They must have felt that a bowl of home-canned cherries would make us feel, for a moment, like a family again. I can’t remember the taste of the cherries, but I remember that someone knew my heart and cared.
Second, I felt that the gift was free. I knew that Uncle Bill and Aunt Catherine had chosen freely to bring a gift. The gift seemed to provide them joy in the giving.
And third, there was sacrifice. I knew that Aunt Catherine had canned those cherries for her family. They must have liked cherries. But she took that possible pleasure from them and gave it to me. That’s sacrifice. But I have realized since then this marvelous fact: it must have seemed to Uncle Bill and Aunt Catherine that they would have more pleasure if I had the cherries than if they did.
Great gift giving involves three things: you feel what the other feels, you give freely, and you count the sacrifice a bargain.

Ever since he was a child, Joseph knew he could rely on his oldest brother. Alvin was twenty-five years old now and could have acquired his own farm if he wanted. But he had chosen to stay on the family farm to help his parents get settled and secure on their land as they got older. He was serious and hardworking, and Joseph loved and admired him immensely.24

Maybe Moroni felt that Joseph needed his brother’s wisdom and strength to become the kind of person the Lord could trust with the plates.

Returning home that evening, Joseph was tired. But his family crowded around him as soon as he came through the door, eager to know what he had found at the hill. Joseph started to tell them about the plates, but Alvin interrupted when he noticed how weary Joseph looked.

“Let us go to bed,” he said, “and we will get up early in the morning and go to work.” They would have plenty of time tomorrow to hear the rest of Joseph’s story. “If Mother will get our suppers early,” he said, “we will then have a fine long evening and all sit down and hear you talk.”25

The next evening, Joseph shared what had happened at the hill, and Alvin believed him. As the oldest son in the family, Alvin had always felt responsible for his aging parents’ physical welfare. He and his brothers had even started building a larger house for the family so they could be more comfortable.

Now it seemed Joseph was looking after their spiritual welfare. Night after night he captivated the family with talk of the gold plates and the people who wrote them. The family grew closer together, and their home was peaceful and happy. Everyone felt that something wonderful was about to happen.26

Then one autumn morning, less than two months after Moroni’s visit, Alvin came home with an intense pain in his stomach. Bent over in agony, he begged his father to call for help. When a doctor finally arrived, he gave Alvin a large dose of a chalky medicine, but it only made things worse.

Alvin lay in bed for days, writhing in pain. Knowing he would probably die, he called for Joseph. “Do everything that lies in your power to obtain the records,” Alvin said. “Be faithful in receiving instruction and keeping every commandment that is given you.”27

He died a short time later, and sorrow settled over the house. At the funeral, a preacher all but said Alvin had gone to hell, using his death to warn others of what would happen unless God intervened to save them. Joseph Sr. was furious. His son had been a good young man, and he could not believe that God would damn him.28

With Alvin gone, talk of the plates ended. He had been such a staunch supporter of Joseph’s divine call that any mention of them brought his death to mind. The family could not bear it.

Joseph missed Alvin terribly and took his death especially hard. He had hoped to rely on his oldest brother to help him get the record. Now he felt forsaken.29

Heather told us about a time she had been invited to a party with the “popular” people of the school. As she walked in the door, the music that was blasting through the house hit her spirit. She felt sick inside. Then friends started disappearing into darkened rooms. Heather said: “At the party I soon realized I had to make a choice: either these people or my standards. I couldn’t have both. I knew I did not want the words I was hearing or the movie scenes to contaminate my thoughts, no matter how popular these people were. I knew I did not belong there. As I was waiting for my mother to come and get me, I looked out the window in the darkened night, and there shining on the hill like a beacon was the temple. It was like the Lord was reassuring me that I was doing the right thing” (used by permission; name has been changed).

After Oséias Portinari of Brazil was laid off at work, he spent more than two months searching for a new job. Unable to find a position, he volunteered at his local employment resource center in São Paulo. Helping others in their job searches offered Oséias an opportunity to improve his own interviewing and job search skills. He took the career workshop several times and eventually became an instructor. To his surprise, as he diligently served others, Oséias soon began to receive calls from prospective employers, which led to gainful employment.

Oséias is grateful for Church resources that give unemployed members a better vision of life. He says, “I know that as we put in effort, the Lord opens doors.”

I visited the hospital room of an old friend who had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. I took with me my two young daughters. I did not expect that she would even be able to recognize them. Her own family were gathered, standing around her bed as we entered.
She looked up and smiled. I will always remember her look as she saw that we had brought our daughters with us. She motioned them to come close to her on the bed. She sat up, held them, and introduced them to her family. She spoke of the greatness of those two little girls. It was as if she were presenting princesses to a royal court.
I expected our visit to end quickly. Surely, I thought, she is tired. But as I watched, it was as if the years melted away. She was radiant and obviously filled with love for all of us.
She seemed to savor the moment as if time had stopped. She had spent most of her life succoring children for the Lord. She knew from the account in the Book of Mormon that the resurrected Savior had taken little children one by one, blessed them, and then wept for joy.4 She had experienced that joy long enough herself to be able to endure in His loving service to the end.

In a typical Samoan family, a young man does the family cooking in a umu (fire pit oven). His little brothers are usually right there to watch and help him. One of the first things this young cook does is to slash off a few palm fronds with his big bush knife. Then he slits them in half down the thick middle of the stem, fastening the rib into a loop and quickly weaving the leaf fringes into sturdy workbaskets.
Later, the older brother gets into his pao pao (dugout canoe) and goes to the plantation for taro (an edible root). By the time he returns with his baskets full of taro, his little brothers have a pile of wood ready for the fire.
When the fire is hot, the special rocks layered on top begin to glow red. The young cook slashes the leaf fringes off a small coconut tree branch, trims the green rib, and bends it in the middle to make fire tongs to arrange the hot stones in the cleared-out fire pit. Over them he spreads layers of banana leaves, taro, breadfruit, green bananas, a leaf-wrapped fish or chicken, more leaves, more hot rocks, and then leaves and earth. In a few hours the family’s food is cooked for the weekend.

I was standing in line with my mom to pay for our groceries. The line was crowded, so my mom had to bend over this little boy in front of us to buy our things. The little boy started to kick her. The second time he kicked her, she backed away and said, “Will you please stop kicking?”
The boy’s mom turned around and told my mom it was her fault she got kicked. She said all sorts of insulting things to us. I started to glare at her as she turned back around and was rude to the cashier too! I acted calm, but inside I was angry. It bugged me. I knew that what happened wasn’t my mom’s fault or mine, but I still felt hurt.
When we got home, I went to my room and pulled out my scriptures. After reading for a minute, I felt a need to pray. I hardly felt in the mood, but I knelt down and started to pray. Eventually, I found myself praying for this woman who had treated us so awfully. The calmest feeling I’ve ever felt settled all over me. I couldn’t find room in my heart to be angry at her anymore. I felt love.
Teresa G., Idaho, USA

Once again on December 24, my family and I will find ourselves in our little New England home. The snow will cascade outside like sifted powdered sugar. Our woodstove will glow brilliant orange with the light of burning firewood. Mom will stir dark peppermint fudge in the kitchen. Dad will study his tattered copy of the New Testament in the dining room. And my siblings will lock themselves in their bedrooms, wrapping newly purchased gifts for the family. The house will smell like fresh pine and sugar cookies, and Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” will play softly in the living room.
This is the Christmas I cherish today. Unfortunately, however, I did not always appreciate this annual tradition. It was not until the year I turned 16—the year my parents postponed Christmas—that I understood what this holiday was really about.
I remember sitting at the dining room table in the heat of summer, eating a Spanish casserole dinner with my family. My mom cleared her throat during a lull in the conversation and called my name.
“Your grandmother,” she said, “is taking a tour of the Holy Land, and she invited us to come with her. Your father and I have saved up enough money to go.”
“For heaven’s sake, you guys,” I replied hastily. “You don’t need my permission to go on vacation. When is it?”
I remember my parents looking at each other for a second. While my mom bit her lip, my dad coughed and said in a quiet tone, “December.”
After a long pause, my mom said, “It’s a … Christmastime tour. We’ll be gone until December 28. Do you think you kids would … mind … if we postponed our family Christmas until then?”
I tried to maintain my composure, but inside I felt sick. “Well, sure,” I said. “I mean, I’m not going to stop you from going to the Holy Land. We’ll be fine.”
My mom smiled, my dad started eating his mashed potatoes, and our conversation went back to normal. However, as I tried to concentrate on my carrots, thoughts about Christmas kept racing through my mind. What would Christmas be like without my parents? I thought. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop them from leaving, but I began to wish I could.
As the holidays loomed nearer, I found myself dwelling on Christmases past. To my great astonishment, I had much difficulty remembering any of my former gifts. I remembered family home evening Christmas carols. I remembered trying to untangle endless strands of Christmas lights with my mom. I remembered helping my dad tie our Christmas tree to the car roof with one too many Boy Scout knots. As I looked back, the realization that my parents would not be here to repeat these traditions depressed me greatly.
I spent December 23rd in New York City with my three sisters, and when my brother came on the 24th, we tried to hold a few Christmas traditions without my parents. However, it was obvious that something about the whole experience felt wrong. Dad was not there to read the Christmas story or to teach our family home evening lesson. Mom was not there to play the piano or lead our Christmas carols. Our December 25th was quiet without their laughter and love filling the home. I felt as though my whole Christmas vacation had been ruined. Without my parents, Christmas simply did not feel like Christmas.
On December 28th, however, a small miracle occurred. When Mom and Dad walked in the door at 9:00 a.m., their presence instantly lifted our spirits and brought back the much-needed feeling of Christmas to our home. We rushed to greet them at the door.
“We missed you all,” my dad said as he entered the kitchen, hauling luggage. “Everywhere we went, we said to each other, ‘We wish the kids were here to see this.’ Christmas just wasn’t the same without you.”
Hugs and kisses were exchanged. Stories and pictures were shared. The presence of my parents in that home brought our family inexplicable joy. I don’t remember what gifts I received that year. I don’t remember what we ate for breakfast that day or where we shopped at after-Christmas sales. I only remember spending time with my family and hoping that Christmas would never end.

As a young man beginning my missionary service, I boarded an airplane headed to Australia. Feeling very alone, anxious, and inadequate but having committed to serve, I desperately needed reassurance that what I believed in was true. I prayed and read my scriptures earnestly, but as the flight progressed, my self-doubt intensified and my physical condition deteriorated. After I had been struggling for several hours, a flight attendant walked down the aisle and stopped next to my seat. He took the Book of Mormon I was reading from my hands. He looked at the cover and said, “That’s a great book!” then handed the book back to me and kept walking. I never saw him again.

While his words echoed in my ears, I distinctly heard and felt in my heart, “I am here, and I know where you are. Just do your best, for I will take care of the rest.” On that airplane above the Pacific Ocean, I received a personal witness through my study of the Book of Mormon and the promptings of the Holy Spirit that my Savior knew who I was and that the gospel was true.

Our family had just experienced a devastating house fire, and all eight of us were living in a temporary three-bedroom mobile home in our front yard. Our family faced challenges and discord.
My husband was not active in the Church at the time. Our two teenage sons were making choices that would lead only to sorrow. Simultaneously, I was serving as Young Women president in our ward, and several of the young women were struggling with serious temptations. Some of their parents also faced struggles and therefore were not assisting their daughters at this critical time.
I knew these young women needed me to help them through their spiritual land mines. I knew my six sons needed me. I knew my good husband depended on my strength. Yet there seemed to be nothing but darkness around me, and I felt empty, weak, and incapable of leading these loved ones to safety.
Late one night as I rocked our infant son in the stillness of our temporary home, my thoughts turned to those who needed me to be strong. I felt the pervasive darkness that surrounded them. In my anguish I prayed with all my heart that Heavenly Father would show me the way to help them despite my inadequacies. He answered immediately and showed me the way.
I seemed to see myself in our ward’s large cultural hall, which had no windows. It was late at night, and there was not even a glimmer of light. Then I lit a tiny birthday candle. It seemed so insignificant, yet the power of that miniscule light was enough to displace the blackness.
That was my answer! The quantity of darkness surrounding us in the world simply does not matter. Light is eternal and is vastly more powerful than darkness (see 2 Corinthians 4:6; Mosiah 16:9; D&C 14:9). If we remain worthy of the constant companionship of the Holy Spirit, our souls can reflect sufficient light to displace any amount of darkness, and others will be drawn to that light within us.
This was all I needed to know. This simple insight has carried me through the past 25 years with the knowledge that with the Lord’s help and guidance, we can do—and be—all that He needs us to do and be in this world of darkness.

Illustrated by Sal Velluto and Eugenio Mattozzi
When Wilford was 17 years old, his father arranged for him to continue going to school.
Wilford: But Father, I can’t afford to attend school in West Hartford!
Father: If you do chores for my friend, he will pay your room and board.
Wilford went to school but became terribly homesick.
Wilford: I miss my family, and I want to return home!
In order to avoid feeling homesick, Wilford decided that he needed to stay busy by focusing more on his studies. He grew to love history and started reading every history book he could get his hands on.
One day Wilford picked up the Bible and started to read it. Although he began reading it to learn about Christian history, he gained a testimony that the Bible was the word of God.
Wilford: I resolve to diligently seek the Lord, follow the Holy Spirit, and do the will of God as far as I can learn it!
Wilford talked to different priests and ministers, asking them questions and comparing what they said to what was said in the Bible. Although most of the church leaders were nice, he did not feel that any of the churches were correct.
Wilford: Reverend, why are some people baptized as infants? Jesus and His disciples were baptized after believing in the gospel.
When he was 24 years old, he prayed one night and felt prompted to read the Bible. He opened it randomly to Isaiah 56:1.
Wilford: “For my salvation is near to come, and my righteousness to be revealed.” I wonder if that means I will soon learn of the true gospel.
Within two years of this inspiration, Wilford had moved to New York, learned about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and been baptized. The Lord had answered his prayers!

Often our opportunities to show our love come unexpectedly. An example of such an opportunity appeared in a newspaper article in October 1981. So impressed was I with the love and compassion related therein that I have kept the clipping in my files for over 30 years.
The article indicates that an Alaska Airlines nonstop flight from Anchorage, Alaska, to Seattle, Washington—a flight carrying 150 passengers—was diverted to a remote Alaskan town in order to transport a gravely injured child. The two-year-old boy had severed an artery in his arm when he fell on a piece of glass while playing near his home. The town was 450 miles (725 km) south of Anchorage and was certainly not on the flight path. However, medics at the scene had sent out a frantic request for help, and so the flight was diverted to pick up the child and take him to Seattle so that he could be treated in a hospital.
When the flight touched down near the remote town, medics informed the pilot that the boy was bleeding so badly he could not survive the flight to Seattle. A decision was made to fly another 200 miles (320 km) out of the way to Juneau, Alaska, the nearest city with a hospital.
After transporting the boy to Juneau, the flight headed for Seattle, now hours behind schedule. Not one passenger complained, even though most of them would miss appointments and connecting flights. In fact, as the minutes and hours ticked by, they took up a collection, raising a considerable sum for the boy and his family.
As the flight was about to land in Seattle, the passengers broke into a cheer when the pilot announced that he had received word by radio that the boy was going to be all right.7

After my call to the Relief Society general presidency, I felt a desire to know more about the women who had served before me. I was impressed by the teachings of Sister Zina D. Young, first counselor in the second Relief Society general presidency. She said, “Sisters, it is for us to be wide awake to our duties.”1 I pondered on the words awake and duty and did some additional searching in the scriptures.
In the New Testament, Paul taught the Saints of his day:
“It is high time to awake out of sleep: for now is our salvation nearer. …
“The night is far spent, the day is at hand: … let us put on the armour of light.”2
In the Book of Mormon, Alma taught his people the sacred duties of those who enter into a covenant with God:
“And now, as ye are desirous to come into the fold of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light;
“Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places. …
“Now I say unto you, if this be the desire of your hearts, what have ye against being baptized in the name of the Lord, as a witness before him that ye have entered into a covenant with him, that ye will serve him and keep his commandments, that he may pour out his Spirit more abundantly upon you?
“And now when the people had heard these words, they clapped their hands for joy, and exclaimed: This is the desire of our hearts.”3
Sister Young’s statement and these scriptures caused me to consider the “duties” we must awaken to in our day.
When we are baptized, we enter into a covenant. Elder Robert D. Hales taught, “When we make and keep covenants, we are coming out of the world and into the kingdom of God.”4
We are changed. We look different, and we act different. The things we listen to and read and say are different, and what we wear is different because we become daughters of God bound to Him by covenant.
When we are confirmed, we receive the gift of the Holy Ghost, the right to have the constant influence of a member of the Godhead to guide us, to comfort us, and to protect us. He warns us when we are tempted to walk away from our covenants and back into the world. President Boyd K. Packer teaches that none of us “will ever make a serious mistake without first being warned by the promptings of the Holy Ghost.”5
To receive this gift and always have the Spirit with us, we must be worthy and vigilant about checking the condition of our hearts. Is our heart soft? Do we have a humble heart, a teachable heart, a gentle heart? Or have our hearts become gradually hardened as we have allowed too much of the noise of the world to distract us from the gentle promptings that have surely come from the Spirit?
When we were baptized, our hearts were changed and awakened to God. While on our mortal journey, we need to regularly ask ourselves, “If [I] have experienced a change of heart, … can [I] feel so now?”6 And if not, then why not?
Many of the early Saints “experienced this mighty change in [their] hearts.”7 It awakened them to receive temple blessings that strengthened them in their duties. Early Saints in Nauvoo went “to the temple all day and long into the night”8 to receive ordinances and make covenants before they began their journey westward.
Sarah Rich, a Relief Society sister in Nauvoo, said this: “Many were the blessings we had received in the house of the Lord, which has caused us joy and comfort in the midst of all our sorrows and enabled us to have faith in God, knowing He would guide us and sustain us in the unknown journey that lay before us.”9
With hearts changed through faith in the Savior, they relied on the power of His Atonement. They were awakened to act. They knew deep in their hearts that there was one—the Savior—who understood their personal adversity because He suffered it for them in the Garden of Gethsemane and on the cross. He felt their fear, their doubt, their pain, and their loneliness. He suffered their sorrows, their persecution, their hunger, their fatigue, and their loss. And because He suffered all these things, He could say to them, “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”10
And they came. They trusted in and followed the prophet. They knew the journey would be long, their duty difficult. They knew that sacrifice would be required, but sustained by their faith and cleaving to their covenants, they were spiritually prepared.
Before leaving Nauvoo, a group of Saints wrote a message in the assembly hall in the temple they were forced to abandon. It read, “The Lord has beheld our sacrifice: come after us.”11
Recently I participated in a pioneer trek with young men and young women in our ward. Each morning I asked myself, “What is my sacrifice? How do I come after them?”
On the second day of the trek we had pulled our handcarts eight miles (13 km) when we came to a place on the trail called “the women’s pull.” Men and women were separated, and the men were sent ahead up a hill. As we started to pull our handcarts, I looked up to see our priesthood brethren, young and old, lining both sides of the trail, hats off in respect for the women.
The path was easy at first, but soon we were in deep sand, and the hill grew steep. I had my head down and was pushing with all my might when I felt a tug on the cart and looked up to see Lexi, one of our young women and my neighbor. She had pulled her handcart to the top and, seeing our need for help, ran back. When we reached the top, I wanted so much to run back to help those following me, but I was breathing heavily and my heart was pounding so hard, the words heart attack entered my mind more than once! I watched with gratitude as other young women dropped their handcarts and ran to help.
When everyone reached the top, we took some time to record feelings in our journals. I wrote: “I didn’t prepare well enough physically so didn’t have the strength to help those following me. I may never need to pull a handcart again, but I never want to let my sisters down spiritually, never!”
It was a sacred experience that awakened me spiritually to my duties to my family and others. Throughout our journey I reflected on what I had learned.
First I thought about my sisters, those who had pulled and those who continue today to pull their handcarts alone. Nearly 20 percent of the women in those early handcart companies were alone for at least part of the way. These were women who had not married, were divorced, or were widowed. Many were single mothers.12 They all pulled together—covenant daughters, young and old, in different life circumstances, on the same path, with the same goal.
Those who ran to help their sisters in need reminded me of rescuers, both seen and unseen, who are quick to observe, see a need, and act.
I thought of the Lord’s words: “I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up.”13
Lining both sides of the trail were faithful, obedient, covenant-keeping men. Their priesthood power—the power God uses to bless all His children—lifted, strengthened, and supported us. They were a reminder that we are never alone. We can have this power with us always as we keep our covenants.
I thought of the men who were separated on the journey from families, leaving them to pull the handcart alone. Many men died on the journey. Some sons stayed behind to serve missions in their native lands. Others had emigrated earlier to prepare for their families’ arrival in the Salt Lake Valley. Some men were absent by choice, having chosen not to keep their covenants.
Like those who went before, many today live in circumstances that are not ideal. We continue to teach and strive for the ideal because we know that continually striving will keep us progressing along the path and prepare us for opportunities to receive all promised blessings as we “wait upon the Lord.”14
Each of us has had and will continue to have adversity in our lives. This mortal life is a time of testing, and we will continue to have opportunities to use our agency to choose what we will learn from the adversity that will surely come.
As daughters of God, we continue on the path in faith because we recognize, as President Thomas S. Monson taught, “The saving ordinances received in the temple that permit us to someday return to our Heavenly Father in an eternal family relationship and to be endowed with blessings and power from on high are worth every sacrifice and every effort.”15
It isn’t enough to just be on the journey; we must be awake to our duty and continue with faith as we draw upon the comforting, strengthening, enabling, and healing power of the Atonement.
Sisters, I love you. I don’t know many of you personally, but I do know who you are! We are covenant-keeping daughters in His kingdom, and endowed with power through our covenants, we are prepared to do our duty.
Relief Society prepares women for the blessings of eternal life by awakening us spiritually to increase in faith and personal righteousness. Let us begin with ourselves. Let us begin where we are. Let us begin today. When we are spiritually awake, we will be better able to strengthen families and homes and help others.
This is a work of salvation, and the strengthening and enabling power of the Atonement makes it possible. Awaken to who we are. Awaken to our duty. We are daughters of our Heavenly Father, who loves us. Of this I testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

When missionaries entered the Ghana Missionary Training Center on February 27, 2020, little did they know they would be the last group of missionaries to complete their training in those well-known halls for some time. The COVID-19 pandemic stopped many parts of life, but the Lord’s work continued, and His missionaries needed to be trained. The next group of missionaries called were originally to arrive for training at the MTC in Accra on March 19, 2020. Instead, they were the first group in the history of the Ghana MTC to experience their missionary training online, and they began on March 26.
Online training was brand new for missionaries and the trainers. Content taught at the MTC is the same as is taught online, but many adjustments had to be made. Trainers had to learn the Zoom platform, and many had never used it. The transition to online took only a week in the regular missionary training schedule.
Some missionaries struggled with the changes. Elder Ejodamen, from Nigeria, was called to serve in the Sierra Leone Freetown Mission. “I was supposed to report to the MTC May 24, 2020, and that was the period that COVID-19 really hit very hard. So, we were told we would attend the online MTC. It was literally like my dream has been shattered. I have heard wonderful experiences about the MTC. So, I was not going to the MTC. It was a very hard time.”
Local church units also had to adjust. Many newly called missionaries did not have access to stable internet with the amount of data that is required to stream video meetings. The Church Facilities Management group ensured that the required internet and equipment was at stake centers so missionaries could be trained. However, it is not always easy for Church Members to get to church buildings. Several MTC trainees had to move away from home and into apartments with full-time missionaries who were closer to the stake meeting houses.
“I used to stay in the mountain, so my bishop told me I should come and stay with the missionary sisters in the missionary apartment. They used to give me transport to pay bike to come to chapel to take my MTC class,” explained Sister Combay of the Sierra Leone Freetown Mission.
Brother Larios Avana, trainer and MTC second counselor, originally from the Republic of Benin, told of helping a sister who did not know how to use a computer. “She doesn’t know how to press the mouse. Then I move the webcam from the top of the monitor to my desk for her to see my mouse, and I show her, ‘This is where you have to touch. Press here so you can do what you must do.’”
Missionaries already serving in the field were a great help. Sister Combay said, “I did not know how to use computer, but they (sister missionaries) taught me, and I started using the computer. When we had class, I was the one putting on the computer. . . . So, before our instructor came to start class, I already knew how to put computer on and to go onto the system.”
Trainer Emmanuel Dogbey of Ghana explained, “In the MTC, the lessons we teach fall into different categories. We have doctrinal lessons we teach. We have improving finding and teaching skills. We have language and others.”
Teaching adjustments were made. MTC trainer Lorenzo Osei-Tutu from Ghana explained, “We have cards that we show to missionaries, especially language missionaries, and so during the early stages, you want to bring the card to the camera to get them to see what is there. Then maybe someone had a break though that, ‘Hey, you can use this app to design this and then share your screen.’ So, we were still learning the context in where to teach.”
Sister Kainessie, serving in the Sierra Leone Freetown Mission, talked about the early start to online MTC classes. “I have to ride my bike, and also I have to get up around 6:00 because they said we should be at the chapel around 6:30 for us to prepare to get our breakfast.”
Elder Melo, from Mozambique and called to the Ghana Accra West Mission said, “I confess that my first time I was sleeping because they were just speaking English. No one was there to translate, and English was very hard. . . . During that time, they would teach me small, small, little bit, little bit, and I was just understanding some words in English.”
Learning a language is hard work. When students were sitting in a classroom with them, trainers could easily spot someone having difficulty. Avana explained that in language studies, the trainers help the new missionaries to set a specific goal related to learning a language. Perhaps the goal is a number of scriptures to memorize or a number of words to learn in a new language. Then they help the missionaries set a study plan for how they are going to achieve the goal. That same practice applies to online MTC. The trainers, “assign them to mentors, return missionaries in their stake who speak their mission language. They are able to practice with those people outside of class,” explained Avana.
Because the MTC trainers do not have the ability to see the missionaries during breaks, on the sports court, or in the cafeteria like they might in the physical MTC, they make extra efforts to create connections with missionaries attending the virtual MTC. Avana said, “We reach out to them through phone calls even before their training begins. We call them and ask them, ‘Do you have a cell phone? Do you have WhatsApp? Is there anyone nearby that we can call to reach out to you?’ All those options are set before their training begins.” Connections with new missionaries are also accomplished through holding personal interviews.
Sister Combay stated that after she went into the field full-time, “I was missing the MTC because our instructors were so lovely. They were nice to us, and they also teach us the things we should know. Even sometimes they call us for interview, one by one. We talk to them, share our problem with them.”
Just like in the physical MTC, the missionaries in the virtual MTC are organized into districts, a group of missionary companionships that attend all the training together. Within these virtual groups, the connections that are made become close, just like those in the physical MTC.
Ejodamen said, “The online experience with MTC, one thing that stands out for me is the experience I had to meet different people. It was something really very wonderful because we put our minds together, we studied together, we discussed together. But though it was not in physical contact, it was really wonderful. They were really nice people that I saw on the screen. We talked. We laughed, and they were cool MTC instructors that really helped us. My attending online MTC and someone attending real MTC is the same thing.”
Dogbey explained the MTC pattern of teaching a lesson and having a practice activity. “At the end of the lesson, we ask the missionary to set a goal and then make a plan. Identify what time of the day is he going to accomplish that goal.”
Osei-Tutu added that trainers have worked to adapt the lessons to the missionary’s life circumstances. “We ask them to set goals to live by the things they are learning. That experience is playing a huge role to help the missionaries live the doctrine, to understand it more, to change their lives.”
Ghana MTC president, Paul W. Craig, explained that he and his wife have the “responsibility for the ecclesiastical, spiritual, motivational, worthiness, physical and emotional welfare of our missionaries.” From the beginning of online MTC, the Missionary and MTC departments set up that questions, concerns, health, or spiritual issues are to be addressed through stake presidents. The mission president and his wife continue to encourage the spiritual growth of missionaries through weekly devotionals over Zoom.
“Gratefully, the local leaders and stake presidents, they really responded to the Missionary Department’s call to be part of this work,” said Osei Tutu. “Having them at the right hand and seeing them really minister to the missionaries helped in this transition.”
Sister Kpullum, serving in Sierra Leone Freetown Mission, talked about the change in her perspective of online MTC. When she began, she was thinking, “Why us? So, we do have that doubt, but, actually, the online MTC was really good. They do not lack anything. I think our instructors did very well for us. Yeah. They always make sure we have the best learning, that even if we go out there, we will not see things strange. They really taught us to become a good missionary.”
Kainessie said, “The MTC grew me in a way that I learned how to teach and also how to approach my interested members. Even when I went into the field, I did not find it difficult.”
The online MTC has had some unexpected benefits. “For missionaries who come from backgrounds that their parents are not members, they now do not get to just see their children (or siblings) leave and come after two years or 18 months completely changed, but they get to see a portion of that change happen. And I think it is a blessing for missionaries coming from such backgrounds,” said Osei-Tutu.
Dogbey added, “When they leave the MTC online training and get to the field, they are able to also teach interested people and members through online means, through Zoom, WhatsApp, and Messenger. They can easily schedule an appointment with an interested person and teach that person seated in the comfort of their apartment.”
“I feel that is what President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) prophesied about in 1974 that in our time there will be a better trained missionary force.1 We have seen this,” concluded Dogbey.

You may know that I am the mother of seven sons. I know boys! It has been an exciting life at our house! I’ve learned a lot from them and from their friends, both boys and girls, and I could tell you a few of their secrets. Maybe I could just share one and hope that I won’t get in trouble. This is it: boys hate to be embarrassed. I remember the time a young man I know had a date for the prom. He brought her to our house before the dance so we could take pictures. When they got there he came into the kitchen, where I was looking for the camera, and said: “Wait until you see my date’s dress. She looks so beautiful!” This boy had never said anything like that before so I could hardly wait to see what he meant.

When I saw her I understood; she was lovely. The dress she was wearing was beautiful; I learned that she and her mother had searched everywhere for it. When they finally found this dress, they knew it would be perfect with some added fabric and finishing touches to meet their high standards.

All their efforts were rewarded because she was absolutely radiant this night, but it was more than the dress that made her shine. It was her quiet confidence. As I looked at her, I was reminded of the scripture, “Let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly; then shall thy confidence wax strong.” Where did this confidence that she had come from? I noticed that this young woman could focus on others because she was not worried about how she looked. She had taken care of that detail weeks before. The young man she was with felt comfortable and safe and happy when he was with her because her dress was not revealing. It was modest in every way, and this made her confident and happy. And that’s appealing. He wasn’t embarrassed by her; he was proud of her.

The kind of young woman who can be a terrific torchbearer has high standards all the time, not just in her prom dress, but every, ordinary day. There are so many of you who are like that, and I salute you tonight. You have made modesty your way of life. It is more than how you dress. It includes at least six things that I can think of: (1) your behavior is decent and modest, and yet you are very fun to be with; (2) your language is never crude but happy and interesting; (3) you are well groomed, and that is appealing; (4) you are focused on developing your talents and achieving your goals, not piercing and tattooing and flaunting your body; (5) you play sports with gusto but never lose control; (6) you don’t seem to care about what the latest pop star wears or does because you have a certain style of your own. In summary, you do not imitate the world’s standards because you know a higher standard. You know who you are, and that puts you at a real advantage. You know that you really are a daughter of Heavenly Father. You know that He knows you and that He loves you; you want to please Him and honor His love for you. You know that even if you make foolish mistakes, He will help you if you turn to Him.

You act like you have memorized For the Strength of Youth! Isn’t that a great little guide? Sometimes I like to call it “helps for happiness” because living these standards can be your secret weapon for attracting good people to you and keeping you on the right track. When you live the high standards of the Church every day, you hold high the torch.

A girl I will call Liz is an example of what I am talking about. She was a student in a math class with a girl I will call Lindsay, who noticed that there was just something about Liz that “glowed,” as she put it. Lindsay admitted that she really didn’t think Liz knew her, but she still made her feel good. She really stood up for what she believed, and she always made others feel good and included. For several weeks Lindsay observed Liz. Then one day, Liz didn’t show up at school. Then another and then another passed. Lindsay finally learned that Liz was very ill with life-threatening meningitis.
She came home from school and just sat at the table crying. It wasn’t like she and Liz were close friends, but she said to her mom that they just had to do something to help her. Lindsay suggested that perhaps their whole family could fast and pray for Liz. What a shock it was for the mother to hear that coming from one of her own children, because fasting and prayer had not been mentioned in their home for years. When Lindsay and her mom talked with the rest of the family about it that night at supper, there was some resistance, but Lindsay pleaded with them and finally they all agreed to fast and pray for Liz, a stranger. The most wonderful thing happened. It wasn’t long before Liz returned to school appearing healthy and happy as ever. But even more important than this, the experience brought the most remarkable spirit of hope into Lindsay’s home. Because of it, some serious changes have taken place in their family. They are now having family prayer together, something that had not happened for years.

Liz’s goodness glowed, and it was catching. Liz, if you are here tonight, I would just like to say, “Thank you! By your goodness you have blessed at least one whole family whom you probably do not even know. And who knows how many others have been guided as you held high your torch.”

Being good makes you feel good, and it also makes others feel good! Can I just tell you this—it is so much easier to do what is right than it is to do what is wrong. Life is so much less complicated when you are good.

The greatest advantage of being good is that it will lead you to the temple, the most beautiful and sacred of all the places on this earth. The temple is the place the Savior could visit because it is His holy house here on earth.

President Lorenzo Snow’s granddaughter was in the temple with him on one occasion when President Snow said to her, “‘Allie[,] I want to tell you something. … It was right here that the Lord Jesus Christ appeared to me.’ [Grandfather] put his right hand on [my] head and said, ‘Now granddaughter, I want you to remember that this is the testimony of your grandfather, that he told you with his own lips that he actually saw the Savior, here in the temple, and talked with him face to face.’”

Can you imagine the reverence you would feel to walk the same halls the Savior walked? Do you picture yourself there, pure and clean, a daughter of God, prepared to receive His finest blessings?

Personal Progress will help you in your preparation for the temple. It is inspired of heaven. What a beautiful little treasure it is. It will help you draw closer to the Savior, and it will help you magnify the divine gifts of womanhood of which we have spoken. It is designed just for you at this very important period of preparation, for the patterns you set and the choices you make now will affect the rest of your life. It is our prayer that as you complete your Personal Progress, your light will shine so brightly that it will be an influence for good on generations to come. For these reasons and more, the First Presidency has said: “We desire all young women to strive to earn the Young Womanhood Recognition. As youth work on these goals, they will develop skills and attributes that will lead them to the temple and prepare them for a lifetime of service to their families and the Lord.” The beautiful new Young Womanhood medallion depicts temple spires reminding you that you are preparing to receive the ordinances of the temple, for it is through the temple that we come to Christ.

We are especially thinking of Christ on this Easter eve. More than 2,000 years ago on this eve, as His body was in the tomb, some believed that the light had gone out. But we know that on the morning of the third day, which we call Easter, He arose to be our salvation, our Savior, our eternal light that will never fail us. I testify that Christ is the light and the life of the world.

Dear young women, let your light shine so brightly before all of your family and friends that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in heaven. It is a privilege to carry the torch. It is our prayer that His light will shine on your path every step along your way and that your goodness will qualify you to one day receive the ordinances of the temple, for it is in that holy place that you will find the greatest light of all, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

“Set a goal; then eliminate anything that stands in the way of achieving it.” I read the words on the poster and cringed. It was impossible to make it through class without looking at the clock—which meant looking at the poster right next to it, too. And I didn’t want to see that dumb poster.
I turned away from it to focus my thoughts on Dennis. We had been dating for a while, and I couldn’t imagine loving anyone else. The problem was that he wasn’t a member of the Church, and I had set a goal a long time ago to be married in the temple. According to the poster, I needed to eliminate Dennis! I pushed the thought of breaking up with him out of my head. Maybe I could convert him.
At lunch I decided to give it a try. I steered our conversation in a more serious direction, then gathered my courage and began sharing my beliefs, including temple marriage for eternity. Dennis liked the idea. I could feel the Spirit, so I bore my testimony.
Dennis was thoughtful. Finally he replied, “I know that if you know your church is true, then I will know it is true, too, someday.”
I was ecstatic! If Dennis joined the Church that would solve all my problems. I began by inviting him to church the next Sunday. He really wanted to come, but his family already had plans. He had equally good excuses for not coming the next two Sundays as well, and I understood.
As I lay in bed one night thinking about my situation, the words from that poster at school came into my head. “Set a goal; then eliminate anything that stands in the way of achieving it.” Converting Dennis was going to be a bigger challenge than I had thought. What if he never joined the Church? Or what if he joined but was not really converted? My only other choice was to break up with him. The thought turned my stomach cold. I didn’t have that kind of courage. It would be like breaking my leg.
My heart ached, knowing that keeping Dennis meant I would have to change my goal. I thought of my possible future—attending church alone; raising children with someone who didn’t live the Word of Wisdom; calling my home teachers, not my husband, when a priesthood blessing was needed. And what about eternity? Celestial marriage was a requirement to achieve exaltation with Heavenly Father; this was what I knew I had the potential to achieve. And I was going to give it all up for Dennis, because I didn’t have the courage to spend my earthly life without him?
I had to break up with Dennis.
I was shocked at myself for considering it. But then suddenly the sweetest, most reassuring peace filled me from head to toe. Heavenly Father was speaking to me through the Holy Ghost. Tears came to my eyes. I had to break up with Dennis, and I could do it. Heavenly Father would give me the courage.
The next day during lunch my heart began to pound. I’ll do it tomorrow, I told myself. I could feel my cheeks getting hot.
“What’s wrong?” Dennis asked.
I took a deep breath then blurted, “I have to break up with you!”
Dennis froze. He looked shocked.
“I can’t marry you. I have to break up—now.”
Tears came quickly to his eyes. “But I want you to teach me about your church,” he said.
I swallowed my own tears. “I want to teach you too, but I want to teach you when I know you will join because you know it is true and not because of me.”
I said a silent prayer that he would understand. After a moment of agonizing silence, he asked, “Will you date me again if I join your church someday?”
“Of course!” I nearly sprang out of my chair with joy.
“Promise you won’t forget to teach me,” he said.
I promised.
For weeks my heart throbbed in pain. Every time I saw Dennis I prayed for the strength not to change my mind. We both survived, and our lives took different directions. I never dated a nonmember again, for fear of having to repeat such a painful experience.
Several years later, on summer break from college, I saw Dennis and remembered my promise. Even though I didn’t feel the same way about him anymore and had no intention of ever marrying him, a promise was a promise. I called him up that night and invited him to church. I wasn’t really surprised to hear that he still wasn’t interested.
As I hung up the phone, how grateful I was to my Heavenly Father for giving me the help and the strength I needed to get myself back on the path where I belonged. And how thankful I was for that poster in my class that pointed me in the right direction. Maybe that poster wasn’t so dumb after all.

“I was in a new culture full of new vocabulary and traditions. I felt like an outsider in most conversations and questioned my worth.”

Amy Faragher, shown with her husband, Nathan, and their children

Amy Faragher knew the Church was true the moment she stepped through the church door. “I could not deny the witness I had received from the Holy Ghost,” she says, “so I chose to be baptized.”

About a year after joining the Church as a 19-year-old, she received a calling to serve in Relief Society. A year later she was called to serve as Relief Society president of her young single adult ward. “Those experiences really enriched my life,” she says. “I was all in.”

Serving in this calling as a relatively new member of the Church had its challenges. “I was in a new culture full of new vocabulary and traditions,” she says. “I felt like an outsider in most conversations and questioned my worth as a member.”

Despite the difficulties, Church members received her with warmth and open arms, like one sister who asked to be her friend. “Such associations softened the challenge of learning a new life,” Sister Faragher says. “I felt part of a community. Ward members didn’t judge me for not understanding Church culture or doctrine.”

Five years after joining the Church, she got married. She and her husband lived in various wards over the years. One in particular was accepting of her convert experience, even inviting her to share her story as a member of a panel at a ward activity.

In other wards she attended, Amy was eager to participate but didn’t feel included. She began to doubt her place in the Church. “At times, the loneliness was unbearable,” she remembers. “I continued to attend sacrament meeting and fill my calling in the nursery but suffered from a high level of anxiety.”

When her efforts to seek support from her ward during a challenging time didn’t bear fruit, she sought counsel from her stake president. As she spoke with him on one occasion, she divulged the ache of her heart. He responded quickly and asked to hear more. They talked at length and committed to meet regularly. “The stake president was genuinely interested and listened to all I had to say,” she recalls. “He was the first to ask the hard question about what was going on.”

Her counseling with the stake president and receiving other professional counseling helped her feel Heavenly Father’s love, an important step in her healing. “Everything changed for me. I’m finding my place,” she says. “I’ve learned I don’t need to be ashamed of being a convert.”

“It’s important for leaders to acknowledge and care for new members,” she suggests. “Ask the hard questions and learn how they are really doing. A calling or responsibility suited to the new member’s capacity is also important to the confidence of a new member. It’s not a burden to serve, as some leaders believe.”

Amy recently earned a master’s degree in clinical mental health counseling, and she conducts stake workshops on mental health and assists with the Church’s addiction recovery program.