Gospel Story Finder

“Nearly 40 years ago as I contemplated the challenge of a mission, I felt very inadequate and unprepared. I remember praying, ‘Heavenly Father, how can I serve a mission when I know so little?’ I believed in the Church, but I felt my spiritual knowledge was very limited. As I prayed, the feeling came: ‘You don’t know everything, but you know enough!’ That reassurance gave me the courage to take the next step into the mission field.”
Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, Oct. 2008 general conference (Ensign or Liahona, Nov. 2008, 13).

Jimmie Nicholson wears a skirt to work, and nobody seems to mind. In fact he’s following in the steps, dance steps that is, of many of his ancestors who were Highland dancers.
Jimmie, from the Scottish seaport of Dundee, learned to Highland dance when he was four years old and began learning to play the bagpipe when he was about eight. He has been dancing for the past 16 years and now performs semiprofessionally with his younger brother Gary. Their variety show includes singing, Gary playing the bagpipe and Jimmie on the drums, and both brothers dancing.
Jimmie says his interest in Highland bands and dancing was there right from the start. “My mother was a drummer in a pipe band, and I thought she was wonderful. She won many awards, including being named the Winnipeg Band championship drummer.”
Sharing their talents and rich Scottish heritage has brought warm responses, not only in their homeland but also in Canada, where Jimmie and Gary have toured twice.
When he was eight or nine, Jimmie started playing the chanter, a reed pipe with finger holes. “When you are learning,” he says, “you can’t go straight onto the bagpipe. You have to learn to play the chanter first, so you can get all your fingering correct.”
Other skills must also be mastered before finally beginning to play the pipes themselves. The Scottish bagpipe consists of a leather bag that is filled by blowing air through a mouthpiece or tube. The air is pressed from this bag into several tubes. The melody is played on the chanter, which has a double reed as an oboe does. There are three pipes that extend upward, called drones. Each has a single reed like that of a clarinet and produces a single note. When learning to play the pipes, the three drones are added one at a time until you work up to playing with a full set.
Jimmie got his first set of bagpipes when he was 16, and he joined two bands, one in Dundee and another in Armancourt.
“The bagpipe’s an instrument that demands a lot of practice because it’s so difficult and temperamental,” Jimmie says. “Starting right in the beginning, an hour a day is adequate. But if you want to be really good, you’ve got to put in more practice.”
Jimmie has participated in many pipe band competitions and Highland games, which are held not only in Scotland but all over the world. Most Highland games take place in the summer and consist of many different competitions ranging from pipe band contests, Highland dancing, and Gaelic singing to a tug-of-war contest, caber tossing (tossing a young tree trunk), high jumping, and hurdle races.
“During the winter season, the pipe bands practice their competition sets for the summer,” Jimmie says. “Highland dancing competition carries on throughout the year. During the summer months it’s held at the Highland games and during the winter months in halls, theaters—everywhere. Every place big enough to hold a competition, you’ll find dancing.”
Jimmie has stuck with Highland dancing even though it took a back seat to soccer for a while. Now he’s working on qualifying as a dance instructor. He could have qualified four years ago, but changing teachers twice slowed him down. Of course, he has learned a wide variety of styles by having three different teachers.
Entering dance competitions takes a lot of stamina. “It’s a game that’s very demanding,” Jimmie admits. “In the competitions there are so many dances. You usually compete in them all. You’re talking about possibly ten dances. You’ve got to have strength in the legs and be quite fit. You achieve that by dancing.” The standard dances are the reel, fling, and sword dances.
Jimmie still competes with his band, which has won most of the competitions around, but he has given up dance competitions for a while. “My main aim is to become a qualified dancing teacher,” he says.
Four years ago Jimmie discovered a new heritage. Through entertaining, he met a member of the Church. They became friends, and she invited him to go to church with her. He enjoyed the meetings and soon he began talking with the missionaries.
“I found out all about the Church. I was more active than some members,” he says. Finally after two years Jimmie decided he was going to get baptized.
“I had the object one week to pray about it. I did pray, and sincerely. I think that was the big difference. I prayed sincerely because I did want to know if the Church was true. An answer came. I mean it was really strong—very, very strong.
“Before, I was expecting an answer straight away when I was praying. This time I waited. I didn’t have to wait very long. Once I had the feeling, I knew there was no way I could deny it. Just no way at all.
“My parents weren’t too keen on my decision at first. I had been brought up in the Church of Scotland. My mother was slightly hurt, but my father was just concerned I was doing the right thing. I asked them to come to my baptism, and they were there on the front row seats.
“My brother disowned me. He just didn’t want to know me at all. But now he’s great about it. If he hears anyone saying anything bad about the Church or my being a Mormon, he’ll jump to my defense. It’s heartwarming. It’s good to see him stand by me as my parents do.”
Jimmie shares with his family the things that happen at church each weekend. “If I have a calling they seem quite pleased. They know the Church is quite a big part of my life.”
He was attracted to the Church because he had many of the same values it teaches. “I’m a firm believer in doing unto others as you would have them do unto you.”
When he started studying with the missionaries, he was already living the Word of Wisdom. “As a teenager I drank, but only because all my friends were drinking. I realized that to be one of the boys you didn’t have to drink. They respected me eventually because of it.”
Jimmie is proud of his new-found heritage as a Latter-day Saint and strives to share it with others by his example. He blends his new beliefs with the Highland traditions of his homeland to show others what it means to be a Scottish Latter-day Saint.

Illustration by Brad Teare
“Oh no! Here comes Pedro!”
Everyone at school knew that Pedro was a bully. He was big, and he was mean! He called other kids names, took their lunches, and chased them around the school yard. No one wanted to be around him.
Pedro walked by Lucas and his friend Arthur. He called them “losers” and pushed Arthur.
Lucas was tired of Pedro being so mean. Without even thinking, he shouted, “Stop it, Pedro!”
Lucas couldn’t believe it. He’d just stood up to the biggest bully in school!
Pedro stormed up to Lucas and grabbed his shirt. “What did you say?” Lucas’s heart beat so fast it felt like it would jump out of his chest! “I’ll give you one warning,” Pedro said. “But you’d better watch out!” He shoved Lucas and walked away.
After that, Lucas did his best to avoid Pedro, but Pedro always found him. He kept Lucas off the swings, pushed him during dodgeball, tripped him in the cafeteria, and always said mean things.
One day Lucas and Arthur were playing with Arthur’s soccer ball. Pedro jumped out from behind a tree and grabbed it.
“Please give it back,” said Arthur.
“Who’s going to make me?” Pedro pushed Lucas and laughed.
Lucas could feel his stomach twist in knots. He was so angry! “You know what, Pedro?” Lucas said. “You’re the meanest kid I know! Nobody likes you. Everyone wishes you’d go away!”
Pedro stopped laughing. Lucas felt great about what he said … until he saw the look on Pedro’s face. Was he about to cry? Pedro quickly looked down and walked away.
Lucas instantly felt terrible. For the rest of the day, no matter how hard he tried, Lucas couldn’t get rid of the terrible feeling. That night, he tossed and turned in bed. He kept thinking about how sad Pedro had looked.
How could Pedro feel bad? Lucas thought. He doesn’t care if he’s mean to other kids. I had to say something, right? The more Lucas thought about it, the more he realized he was right to stand up for himself and his friend. But he was wrong to say those mean things.
Lucas knelt by his bed and asked Heavenly Father to forgive him. He told Heavenly Father that he never wanted to hurt anyone like that ever again. He wanted to be kind. When Lucas said “amen,” he knew what he had to do.
After lunch the next day, Lucas found Pedro standing against a wall by himself. Lucas was nervous. What would Pedro do? Lucas took a deep breath and walked over.
“Um, I’m sorry about yesterday.”
Pedro looked surprised. “You’re sorry?”
“Yes. I said some really mean things to you, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
Pedro stared down at his shoes. “It’s OK.”
The bell rang. Lucas started walking back to class. He felt so much better. But there was one more thing he wanted to say. He turned back around. “We could play soccer at recess tomorrow if you want.”
A small smile crossed Pedro’s face. “That sounds good.”
After that, things got better with Pedro. He was still a bully sometimes, but he wasn’t as mean. He even played with Lucas a few times at recess. And it was actually fun! At the end of the school year, Pedro told Lucas that he was moving away. Then he said something that really surprised Lucas.
“Thanks for being my friend,” Pedro said. “Even when I wasn’t nice.”
The warm feeling in Lucas’s heart let him know that being kind is always the right choice.

When my parents told our family of the many people hurt and killed by the tsunami in Asia in December 2004, I felt sad for the children who didn’t have parents to help them anymore. Our family wanted to help the people hurt by the tsunami. We decided not to buy any groceries for one week and give our grocery money to the Church so it could be used to help. I wanted to give all the money that I had to the survivors. I opened my wallet and dumped all my money out. It was hard because I had been working and saving my money for a long time. My mom helped me count it, fill out the donation form, and put it in a tithing envelope. I felt good afterward because I knew that I had helped other people who had lost everything, and I knew that is what Jesus would do.

For another example, take Willard Richards—an educated man who, when Joseph and Hyrum Smith surrendered themselves to the governor of Illinois and were placed in Carthage Jail, was among a handful of men who went with them. By the afternoon of 27 June 1844, most had been sent to take care of certain matters of business, leaving only John Taylor and Willard Richards with the Prophet and his brother Hyrum. That afternoon following dinner, the jailer, knowing of the mob outside, suggested that they would be safer in the cell of the jail. Turning to Willard Richards, Joseph asked, “If we go into the cell will you go with us?” To this Elder Richards responded:
“Brother Joseph, you did not ask me to cross the river with you … you did not ask me to come to Carthage … you did not aske me to come to jail with you—and do you think I would forsake you now? But I will tell you what I will do; if you are condemned to be hung for ‘treason,’ I will be hung in your stead, and you shall go free.” (B. H. Roberts, A Comprehensive History of the Church, 2:283.)
Strong and intelligent men do not demonstrate that kind of love for an imposter or a fraud. That kind of love comes of God and the recognition of integrity in men. It is an expression of the spirit and reflects the example of the Savior, who gave his life for all men and who declared, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:13.)

“No one ever believes it will happen to them, and neither did we,” says Kim Dohm, 17. Hurricane warnings come so often here they seem routine. “We evacuated, but we didn’t think much about what we took with us, because we expected to be back in a few days. We thought it was just another false alarm.” It wasn’t. The storm smashed through Kim’s hometown of Slidell, Louisiana. Winds tore roofs from buildings and snapped trees like toothpicks. Rapidly rising water flooded major portions of the city.

“The damage seemed so random,” Kim says. “In the same neighborhood some houses were torn apart, while others were mostly undamaged. The main thing I learned was to prepare for the worst and hope for the best. If you have to evacuate, leave early and plan to be gone for a while.” Her family had to stay away not just for days, but for weeks.

When Patrick was 19, he lost his father and brother-in-law in a tragic car accident in Saudi Arabia. “My world turned upside down with their loss,” he says. His father’s guiding hand, loving encouragement, and joyful view of the world were gone. Lost in grief and emptiness for a time, Patrick went home to England with his mother but eventually returned to work in Saudi Arabia.
“I had all sorts of valuable opportunities to learn and grow and see how businesses worked,” he says. He was especially grateful for “a wonderful boss who coached and guided me and became a dear friend. He was one of several father-type figures I’ve been blessed with since my father’s death.”

Joseph Smith was a valiant servant of the Lord Jesus Christ. He was brave and courageous in standing for right. One time, the Prophet Joseph and several other brethren had been taken from their families and put into jail. They were chained together and had to sleep on the cold prison floor.

During one of the long, cold nights of their imprisonment, Joseph and his friends were unable to sleep. For hours the guards had been boasting about the horrible things they had done to Latter-day Saints. They bragged about robbing, shooting, and killing. They used loud voices to tell about the horrible things they had done to men, women, and even little children.

Suddenly Joseph, unarmed and in chains, stood up and spoke in a voice like thunder: “SILENCE, ye fiends [devils] of the infernal pit [hell]. In the name of Jesus Christ I rebuke you, and command you to be still; I will not live another minute and bear such language. Cease [stop] such talk, or you or I die THIS INSTANT!” (Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt, page 180.)

The guards shook, and some dropped their weapons. Some of the guards begged Joseph’s pardon. All of them remained quiet until a change of guards.

Strong evidence for the existence of the devil is often given by individuals who know they have come in contact with him. Beth, a young California housewife, has been involved in astrology and fortune-telling since high school. She had attended many séances (meetings in which spirits are invited to come to a group to possess the body of an individual and to speak through that person). At one séance, after she dared to invite the spirits to take control of her body and as she felt them actually doing so, she panicked and changed her mind, fighting them off.

Following this close call, there were aftereffects. “I felt like I was in a pit,” she says, “and all these spirits were standing over me. I heard them laughing at me and saying, ‘We’ve got you now.’” Also, Beth found herself developing a split personality.
Both psychiatry and psychology recognize the crippling effects of spiritistic activity upon the mind. In his book, The Haunting of Bishop Pike, Merrill Unger states, “Sustained practice of occultism produces symptoms of split personalities. Psychiatry characterizes the resulting disorder as ‘mediumistic psychosis.’”

In Answers to Gospel Questions, President Joseph Fielding Smith gave some very sound advice concerning the problem of receiving guidance from mediums, magicians, or astrologers. He said:
“The Lord has pointed out very clearly the course that we should take in obtaining inspiration for our guidance. When a person is baptized and receives the Holy Ghost, he is promised that he will receive the necessary guidance for his spiritual and temporal good, provided he is true to his covenants. The Lord will not dwell in unclean tabernacles. Therefore, in order that we may keep ourselves in harmony with the Spirit of the Lord, we must be mentally, spiritually, and bodily clean from every contaminating influence.”
Remember, nothing Satan does is good, although he does a lot of things that look good.
Coming back to Isaiah’s reaction to the astrologers and soothsayers, we see a genuine prophet about his Father’s business. His answer, unsophisticated and deceptively simple, is nevertheless an illuminating ray of spiritual insight for today.
He merely asked: “Will it save you?”

Latter-day Saint Alma Richards made the 1912 Olympic team.
A high jumper, Alma Richards was part of the 1912 track and field Olympic team that competed in Stockholm, Sweden. During the competition, others were eliminated one by one until only Alma and one other remained.
“As Alma prepared to jump, his mind raced. There he was, representing his country at the greatest athletic competition in the world. Yet he felt weak, as if the whole world were resting on his shoulders. He thought of Utah, his family, and his hometown. He thought of BYU and the Saints. Bowing his head, he silently asked God to give him strength. ‘If it is right that I should win,’ he prayed, ‘I will do my best to set a good example all the days of my life.’”
Drawing upon strength from the Lord, Alma jumped and cleared the high bar. When his remaining competitor failed, Alma won the gold medal.
Later, a friend “teased him about praying before his winning jump. ‘I wish you wouldn’t laugh,’ Alma quietly responded. ‘I prayed to the Lord to give me strength to go over that bar, and I went over.’”

One Saturday night, I was on my way to pick up my friend Jon so we could watch a movie at a friend’s house. On my way there, I passed a house with a moving van parked outside. The house wasn’t in my neighborhood, but the thought came to me that I should stop and help the family move in. I shrugged the thought away because it was nearly 10:00 p.m. They were probably almost finished.
When Jon and I arrived at our friend’s house, the movie was halfway over. We were bored trying to figure out what was going on, so after only a few minutes, we decided to leave.
“Let’s go get some shakes,” Jon suggested.
On the way into town, I saw the house with the moving truck still parked outside.
“Should we help those people?” I asked.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Jon said.
I pulled over and we hopped out, trying not to think about how strange this would seem.
“Could you use a hand?” I called.
The family—a mother, a father, and two children—stared at us. “No. We can handle it by ourselves,” the father said. “But thanks.”
“Are you sure?” Jon asked.
The mother looked at us suspiciously. “Don’t you boys have anything better to do on a Saturday night?”
Jon and I looked at each other and shrugged. “Not really,” we said.
It took a few minutes to convince them that we really wanted to help, and they finally let us. Mostly heavy furniture was left, and I wondered how the four of them had planned to lift it all themselves.
When Jon and I left, the mother thanked us for such a nice welcome into their new neighborhood.
A few weeks later, she introduced herself to Jon’s mom in stake conference. She said, “Please thank your son and his friend again for helping us. They strengthened my faith.”
She explained that they had loaded the truck that morning and had driven all day. By the time they had arrived, they were exhausted. But they had wanted to finish moving so they could return the truck that night and avoid paying an extra day’s fee. The 12-year-old son had been so weary that he wanted to collapse. Shutting himself in the bathroom, he had prayed for a small miracle—the ability to help move all the remaining heavy furniture. Moments later, help had arrived.
I know that the Lord hears our prayers, no matter how small the request. Nothing feels better than to know that Jon and I were guided to answer a prayer that night.

Mother was still ill, Father was dead, and I was now in charge of getting our family to Salt Lake. There was no time to sit down and cry or wait for help. None of us had any choice but to keep moving toward Zion and safety. I used our family’s flour to make a kind of biscuit. I kept pieces from my share of the bread in my pockets. When I couldn’t get the boys or Margaret to keep going, I’d offer them a crumb of bread. Even though they were cold and exhausted, they were so hungry that it worked.
At the end of October, Brother Joseph A. Young and Brother Stephen Taylor arrived in our camp from Salt Lake City. They had wagons of food and clothing! We greeted them as angels of mercy. For the first time in many days, there was joy in our camp. They told us more food, clothing, and bedding were waiting for us at Devil’s Gate.
We kept traveling through the snow to Devil’s Gate and ran into the other wagons with provisions for us. How I wished for a pair of shoes, as my feet froze in the icy slush. But even shoes were less important than food. We left Devil’s Gate with a single handcart for our family. Many of the handcarts were left behind. Those that had brought the provisions from Salt Lake City traveled with us.
At the Sweetwater River, I pulled our handcart through the slushy ice water, then went back for my brothers and sister. I carried them across one at a time. The river wasn’t too deep, but it was many yards wide. It was so cold that my skirts froze around my legs. I wondered if I’d ever be warm again.
The snowstorms continued, and it was bitter cold at night. Sometimes we’d wake up in the morning with our hair frozen to the ground. One night, we thought my little brother Peter was dead, because he was frozen to his quilt. But he finally woke up and, after thawing out his hair, continued the journey.
Although we were much better off now, there still wasn’t enough food or clothing to go around. It was still cold, it was still stormy, and I still had no shoes. Our company found a ravine that we later named Martin’s Ravine, and we set up camp there. For three days there was a terrible blizzard. It was so cold! Even after the storm ended, we had to wait several days before we could travel over the fresh snow. Although there were now wagons and horses, I walked every step of the way. Only those who had frozen feet got to ride.
We camped at Fort Bridger for a few days of rest. More help came at that time. We kept right on traveling. We reached Salt Lake City on November 30, 1856, eleven months after we had left our home in England. Of the 576 people who had started with our company, about 150 of them had died and were buried along the trail, including my father.
We found a place to stay in Ogden with a family named Ferrin. Mother got better and cooked for this household of grown men in return for our board and room. I fell in love with one of the Ferrin brothers, Jacob Samuel. We were married in the Endowment House, and we moved to Provo with my brother Heber.
Later my husband and I moved to Arizona, where we were once again pioneers in an unknown territory.
Do I regret any moment of following the call of the prophet? No! Despite all the hard times, we made it to Zion. We had the gospel, and we were with the Saints. Jacob and I were married for eternity. It was what we had left England for, to obtain the blessings of the gospel. No matter what it cost, it was worth it! All my life I bore testimony of my thankfulness that I made that journey, no matter how hard it was.

Sitting in the courtyard of her high school, Aimee J. noticed that something was missing. Unlike other high schools, hers didn’t have a statue of the school’s mascot. She thought this was something she could probably change, having sculpted since she was young. All she needed was funding for materials and casting, as well as the permission and support of her school.
So Aimee drew up a proposal and presented it to the school principal. It was eventually approved, and Aimee started work on a model of the school’s mascot, a thunderbird. Her model was later cast in bronze to become a six-foot monument to her high school, dedicated to her senior class.
How did you feel while working on the sculpture? Sculpting the thunderbird was one of my Personal Progress value projects. I did the sculpting in May of my senior year, so I missed out on a lot of barbecues and parties. It was a service for all of my fellow seniors, and it took a lot of long hours being all alone in that sculpting room, but it was worth it.

Tyler turned away from his friends, hoping the recess bell would ring soon. His friends continued to tease Adam, the new boy in their fourth-grade class. Ron and Mike didn’t like Adam because he had pierced ears. Tyler looked for the aide but couldn’t see her anywhere on the playground. He felt heartsick. He knew he should do something to help Adam, but if he did, his friends would turn on him.
After recess, Ron pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. He whispered to Tyler, “I stole Adam’s math assignment. Come with me to the bathroom, and we’ll rip it up.” This wasn’t the first time.
Tyler shook his head. “I have some problems of my own to finish.”
Ron left for the bathroom and came back a few minutes later, smiling.
Tyler closed his eyes while the teacher, Miss Johnson, called for assignments. When she called Adam’s name, he answered, “Unprepared.”
Miss Johnson paused. “Adam, that’s the second missing assignment today. Please go to the principal’s office.”
Tyler slipped lower in his chair as Adam left the room. Tyler had to do something, but what? If he told on Ron and his other friends, they’d tease him and steal his assignments. Miss Johnson would never believe that his homework had been stolen. Neither would his parents.
What bothered Tyler even more was that his friends were members of the Church and were in his Webelos den. They were being terrible examples. Something had to be done.
After school, he didn’t wait for Ron or Mike. He ran straight home. His mother sat at the kitchen table, busy paying bills.
He dropped his backpack down by her chair. “Mom, my friends are bullying a new boy in our class. They’ve told everyone not to play with Adam or sit with him.”
His mother looked up. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Tyler fidgeted with the straps of his backpack. “If I tell on them or try to do anything to help Adam, they won’t be my friends anymore.”
His mother hugged him. “It sounds like you have a serious problem. That’s why Heavenly Father gave you the gift of the Holy Ghost. Why don’t you ask Heavenly Father what you should do? I’ll support you in whatever you decide.”
Tyler nodded. He went to his room and knelt by his bed. Even though he knew that Heavenly Father knew the whole story, Tyler told Him everything. He explained how bad he felt about what was happening and how scared he was. Then he asked what he should do. He waited for an answer, and an idea came to his mind. Pulling a piece of paper from his desk, he folded it in half, then wrote:
Dear Adam,I’m glad you moved to our neighborhood. I’m sorry some of the kids in our class are mean to you, but I want you to know I like you and I’m glad you’re in my class. Signed, Your Secret Friend
Tyler looked at the note. What a strange idea. How could this be the answer to his problem? His stomach tingled with excitement. Tomorrow he’d find out. He would put the letter in Adam’s desk when no one was looking.
The next morning at school, Tyler lagged behind after the recess bell rang. When everyone else had left, he slipped the note into Adam’s desk.
Mike waited for Tyler in the hall. “Let’s hurry. Ron wants us to help him catch Adam.”
A warm feeling inside made Tyler tug on Mike’s arm. “Wait. Do you remember last week in our den meeting when we memorized the Scout Oath?”
“Sure I do.”
“Well, do you remember the part about doing our best to help other people at all times?” Tyler asked.
Mike’s shoulders drooped. “Maybe we should just play basketball instead.”
Tyler smiled as he raced Mike out to the basketball court. When Ron saw them playing basketball, he quit chasing Adam and joined the game.
After recess, Tyler watched as Adam found the note in his desk and read it. Adam sat up taller in his chair and looked around the room. Tyler looked away before Adam saw him watching. Now the letter idea made perfect sense—since Adam didn’t know who gave it to him, he would believe that every member of the class might be his secret friend.
At lunch, Tyler noticed Adam sitting at the end of the bench, alone. The warm feeling inside him made it easy to scoot next to Adam and ask, “Do you have anything you want to trade?”
Adam showed Tyler his lunch: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, an orange drink, a roll of fruit leather, and a package of sunflower seeds. “Do you want anything?”
Ron walked up and stood across from Tyler with a scowl on his face. “Why are you sitting next to him?”
“We’re trading,” Tyler answered.
Mike came over and sat down. “I love sunflower seeds. I’ll trade you for my cookies.”
Adam smiled and handed Mike the package of seeds.
When Ron finally sat down by Adam, Tyler gave a silent prayer of thanks to Heavenly Father. He couldn’t wait to tell his mother how the Holy Ghost had helped him. With the Holy Ghost guiding him, he hadn’t been afraid to do what was right.

I was baptized and became a member of Pacdal Ward, Baguio Philippines Stake, on 12 July 1992, one month before my seventeenth birthday. My baptism was the greatest birthday gift I have ever received.
Although I had a testimony when I was baptized, my heart desired a deeper understanding of the gospel and a stronger testimony of the Church. But this was a difficult time in my life. It seemed my testimony was under assault from many directions.
My grandmother often tried to discourage me from observing the Sabbath day. She disliked the fact that my sister Mila and I had to spend so much money to get to church. Our house was far from the meetinghouse, and transportation was expensive. But for me, the value of the word of God I received at church was worth millions of times more than the money we spent getting there!
I also had a difficult time in my peer group. Among my friends were four young men who were members of another religious group. They often shared with us teachings from the Bible. When they learned that I was a Mormon, they gave me a pamphlet that argued that ours is not a Christian religion. In giving me the pamphlet, they sincerely believed they were helping me.
I was interested, so I began reading the pamphlet. It included a lot of discouraging, negative comments about our church. As I read, confusion and doubt about the Church filled my heart. I still wanted to believe the Church was true—I had had some wonderful experiences while learning the gospel and attending church. But now my feelings were so confused that I began to doubt. I felt as though my soul were wandering. I stopped going to church and quit reading the Book of Mormon. I was frightened.
Finally I decided that I could not clear up this confusion on my own. I went to Joey, one of my friends who had given me the pamphlet, and shared my feelings with him. Being a Christian, he suggested that we pray. In his prayer, he asked God to help me know the truth and to give me peace of mind.
After he finished, I felt inspired to pray for help myself. Joey had taught me a valuable lesson: During my confusion, I had not bothered to pray. How ashamed I felt! Why hadn’t I prayed? I was a Latter-day Saint—but a very emotional one, one who had been easily overcome by this adversity. I went home that day with my heart filled with a prayer that God would tell me the truth.
He answered me. I can’t tell you exactly how, for what I felt came from the deepest part of my soul. But I knew, and boldly declare to the world, that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints contains the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ. It is true!
To the youth of the Church around the world who may be confused, I say, Don’t forget to pray! God will answer you.

Fast forward 12 years from my graduation day. I was having a moment of discouragement. Life seemed too full. Motherhood had been more challenging than I had anticipated. I sat at my easel crying, wondering if I would ever really be able to become the great artist I had dreamed of being. I felt impressed to pull my old journal off the shelf, and I turned to my entry on April 30, 2006, the day after my graduation. I had totally forgotten my remarkable experience with President Nelson! Somehow the whirlwind of life had almost eroded it from my memory. There before me were words from the current prophet, “Absolutely!” The tears turned to ones of gratitude as I looked back at all I had been able to accomplish since that time, and I also looked forward with hope.

After 15 months I was reassigned to the American Embassy in Pretoria, South Africa. I was selected as the first Black Marine security guard ever to serve in South Africa. In each place I was assigned, I was handpicked because of my standards. Interestingly, U.S. president Bill Clinton phoned to ask me to accept the South Africa assignment. Those were some of the reasons I received many recognitions and awards.
In South Africa I met the Cleverlys, who were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The mother of the family invited me to their home at various times. She always told me about young adult activities, but I could never attend due to my job schedule. Then she invited me to attend church, and I accepted. But before Sunday came, I had three nights of duty. I went downstairs to the embassy library where there was a computer with a huge search capacity. I just typed in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. All kinds of information came up, and I read for eight hours the first night, eight hours the second night, and eight hours the third night. What I looked at most of all was what Latter-day Saints believed and how they applied it in their lives. Did they live according to what they had established as laws or standards of the Church?
The week preceding my visit to church, I had a dream. I was sitting at a table, and there were two young men with white short-sleeved shirts and black name tags. They were sitting at the sides of a table, and I was seated at the head. When I woke up, I didn’t think much about the dream.
The first time I walked into a Latter-day Saint meeting, I knew there was something different about this church. It happened to be the first Sunday of the month, which meant the members had an opportunity to stand and bear testimony. Now this is the true order of church, I thought.
I was introduced to two missionaries. One of the young men was one of those in my dream, the exact person. Sister Cleverly invited the missionaries and me to her home for dinner. She placed us at the table exactly as my dream had predicted. The missionaries began teaching me.
Later, when I learned the principle of baptism for the dead, I thought it amazing that one could go to a sacred place and do these things for people who had passed away. I thought about my two grandfathers and my grandmother who had passed away. That’s when I started to feel the Holy Ghost. The teachings sounded right to me.
We got to the next principle, which was about families, and I realized I had always known that was true. When I heard about eternal families, I told the missionaries, “I knew this existed.”
Then the missionaries taught me about the Word of Wisdom, and it was then I made a discovery. It felt as if my soul unfolded, and I shed a sort of shell and a new person came out. I felt like I was floating off the ground. I had always lived the Word of Wisdom, and I had wanted to know why I was the way I was. No one had ever had the answer for me. But the Lord did, and I learned that answer through the missionaries and the discussions. I knew everything they had taught me previously was true and everything they would teach me would be true. I had never felt the Spirit so strongly reading the scriptures as when I read Doctrine and Covenants 89:18–21. I knew it was true. I always knew my body was important, and I knew it was never to be defiled.
From this point forward, I began to experience mixed emotions about becoming a member of the Church. I was concerned about my father’s opinion and his reaction to my decision.
During the sixth discussion, I received the message that I had an incoming call from my father. The phone rang. I picked it up, and it was indeed my dad.
He said, “Your mother informed me you’ve made a decision to join the Latter-day Saints.”
I said yes.
He said, “I’m here to prevent that from happening.”
And I said, “You know what, Dad? I love you and you’ll always be my dad. You’ve done a great job with me. But I’m 22. I’m a man now, and these decisions are for my family and my future. I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me and will continue to do for me, but this is my decision. I’m going to do it, and I know the Lord wants me to do this.”
My dad wasn’t very happy when he hung up the phone. Immediately I got on my knees and asked the Lord to help me see and understand that what I was going to do was correct. I was thousands of kilometers from home. I was all alone, and nothing was going right. Only when I was with the missionaries did I feel good. At that moment the Spirit testified to me that it was the Lord’s will and that the Lord wanted me to be baptized. A very clear voice said, “You are to do the Lord’s will. You are to follow His example.” Then I knew. I never looked back after that. I was baptized on 12 October 1995.
It was a year to the day of my baptism, 12 October 1996, that I entered the Washington D.C. Temple to be endowed in preparation for serving full time in the Spain Madrid Mission.
During the first year of my mission, my parents were not supportive of my missionary service. The Lord revealed to me while I was on my mission that my family was fine and they would be taken care of. Then things changed all of a sudden. The last six to eight months of my mission, my family was very supportive. They said they were receiving blessings, and they knew it was because of my mission.
After I returned from my mission, I stayed with my family for three weeks before leaving to enter Brigham Young University. Before school started my father visited me, meeting my friends and seeing Salt Lake City. When I took him to the airport, he embraced me and said, “Out of all 46 years of my life, never ever have I felt more love or the Spirit of God in my home than when you were home the last few weeks. I know we owe it to the service you gave in Spain for two years.”

When I was 17, I’d taken out a small insurance policy that I thought would be useful, when it matured, to go towards a deposit for a house. I cashed it in early. (I lost nothing; every penny I had paid was returned to me; there was no financial penalty for early exit.) I was sent a cheque that paid for my whole mission. Isn’t it funny how things work out? Another small unplanned blessing. I then posted my papers.

Many years ago when I was practicing law, I was consulted by a woman who wanted a divorce from her husband on grounds that, in my opinion, seemed justified. After the divorce was concluded, I did not see her again for many years. In a chance meeting with her on the street, I noticed that the years of loneliness and discouragement were evident in her once-beautiful face.
After we passed a few pleasantries, she was quick to say that life had not been rich and rewarding for her and that she was tired of facing the struggle alone. Then she startled me by disclosing, “Bad as it was, if I had to do it over again and had known then what I do now, I would not have sought the divorce. This is worse.”

House Build D:
Nancy, a recent college graduate, was living in a rented home about the size of a small bedroom. For years she had two great desires: to teach elementary school and to own her own home. The dream of teaching was close to coming true, and now (after she had volunteered 500 hours helping build houses for others, by the way), Nancy’s dream of a home came true. Tears of joy flowed steadily down Nancy’s face as she expressed her deep thanks.