Gospel Story Finder

I know how you feel. In my school, the children think that I am strange and that I am “too” good because I never swear or do inappropriate things. I felt very much alone, but I made friends with some girls who have good hearts, although they are not members of the Church. Today, whenever students need help with something, they come to me because they know that I am a member of the Church, that I would never lie, and that they can trust me.Ester K., 11, Brazil

When I moved to a new house in a new state, I found out that my brother and I were the only members of the Church in the whole school. Our meetinghouse was about twenty minutes away. I really liked my Primary class, but the other girls lived so far away from me that it was hard to get together.
One day a girl at school invited me to her birthday party. I was excited to tell my mom that the party was on Friday and that I would get the invitation on Thursday. On Thursday, I came home and quietly got some cookies out of the cookie jar and gathered several of my favorite stickers, wrapped them, and put them into my backpack. When Mom asked if I had brought home the invitation, I said, “Mom, I guess her party is on Sunday, so I am just going to give her a present at school.”
I am glad that Jesus Christ helps me to know what is right.

“I’m going to take out my hearing aids and walk down the hall until I can’t hear you anymore. Let’s see how far I make it!” the Primary president exclaims, signaling me to start. I hit the opening chords of “The Church of Jesus Christ” (Children’s Songbook, 77) on the piano, and a chorus of young voices begins to sing.
When we’re not measuring how loud the Primary kids can sing, we’re singing songs at various speeds and incorporating actions. It’s my first time back in Primary since the day I turned 12, and I can’t believe how full of joy this place is.
A few years ago, I wouldn’t have guessed that playing Primary songs each week would be the main way I used my musical abilities. I’ve trained competitively on the piano and violin for most of my life and believed for a long time that I would always stay heavily involved in music.
But by my later college years, the reality of finishing a degree and holding down a full-time job set in. Rehearsing with orchestras for several hours a week and practicing diligently on my own fell to the bottom of my priority list. I still loved music and tried to sit down at a music stand often enough to retain most of my abilities, but I mostly stopped performing.
Recently, though, I’ve become OK with it. Using my talent for Primary is different from the competitions and stressful performances I used to work so hard for, but in some ways this is better for me. It’s one of the only times I’ve really felt like I’ve been able to use my talents for the good of others.
In the parable of the talents, the master expects his servants to do great things with the talents he gives them. While he doles out different amounts according to their abilities, each servant is ultimately expected to use the talents in a way that increases what they had before (see Matthew 25:15, 21).
I really took this parable to heart when I was young. Although the talents in the parable were sums of money, they can be likened to our personal skills and abilities, and I wanted to work hard to improve myself and multiply the talents that I had. So when life and responsibilities caught up with me as a college student, I often felt bad that I wasn’t doing more with all my music training. I wondered if I was like the fearful man who “hid [his] talent in the earth,” burying it for fear that he’d lose it (Matthew 25:25).
But as I started my new calling, I didn’t get that feeling at all. Although I wasn’t pushing myself the way I used to, I felt joy every time I sat down behind the piano in the corner of the Primary room because I knew I was serving the children.
When Jesus Christ described how the man with the five talents increased his talents, He said that the man “went and traded” (Matthew 25:16). In other words, the man had to share what he had with others in order to improve and increase.
I began to realize that spending my time playing the piano for many restless children every Sunday didn’t mean I wasn’t making the most of my abilities. Playing in Primary was a trade; I provided accompaniment, and I got to witness the wonderful testimonies of the children in my ward. The more time I spend in the corner of the Primary room, the more I truly feel that this opportunity is providing me with an “increase.”
I believe the calling was inspired. It came at a time in my life when I was wrestling with my faith and often felt overwhelmed with life. This calling was a reminder to strengthen my foundation in the gospel and to focus on the simplicity and beauty of eternal truths. I got to strengthen my testimony alongside the children I was serving, which is one of the real purposes of callings.
Callings can be hard; sometimes we’re called to do things that we don’t feel qualified for and that take up a lot of our time. Other times it’s the opposite—we might feel like our calling isn’t fully using our abilities and our efforts would be better directed somewhere else. But the Lord knows how to use our talents in a way that blesses not only the people we’re serving but also ourselves.
As I have learned from my own experience, any effort we make to serve the Lord brings an increase to our own lives. If we consecrate our time and talents to the Lord, He will always use them for our good.
Alison Wood is an editorial intern for the Church magazines. When she’s not reading or writing, she’s often practicing the violin or playing pickleball with her husband. She loves attending the temple and serving as the ward Primary pianist.

My father and I were soon assigned as home teaching companions. One of our first assignments was to visit the mission president and his wife. They were very gracious. My father brought a lot of traditions from our previous faith. But they were kind, not critical, in explaining why things were done in different ways in the true Church. We were the home teachers, but we learned a lot from the example of our mission president.

One day my best friend and I were walking around at recess. We saw a girl from our ward sitting up against the fence with a frown on her face. My friend said we should go talk to her. So we walked over and asked why she was so sad. She said her friends told her that she couldn’t play with them. We asked if she wanted to play with us, and she said that she did. A smile was on her face.
We had a lot of fun that recess and played with her every day. Before we played with her, we hadn’t known that she was so fun. I felt good inside to play with someone who had looked sad.
A few days later, my mom and I rode our bikes to the park. We saw my new friend there too. She and I played on the playground while our moms talked.
After we left, my mom told me what her mom had said. The girl’s friends had been mean to her over the last few days. She and her mom had been praying that she would find some friends, and my friend and I were the answer to her prayers. I felt warm inside and was happy that I had played with her.

Two young women who are serving as missionaries with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Fiji made a surprising discovery recently.
Lolene Tuiqali and Josephine St. John were recently assigned to be companions, where they would live and work together.
Not long after they began their missionary service as companions, Sister Tuiqali made a video call to her father. While talking together he recognized his daughter’s companion as the daughter of a man he had served with when he was a missionary in Fiji in 1987.
Lolene Tuiqali and Josephine St. John have been teaching people the restored gospel of Jesus Christ and giving community service as missionary companions in Fiji since February this year.
The young volunteers are currently serving in the Nadi area, not too far away from where their fathers were companions.
“We emailed our mission president that day and said, ‘Fun fact: our dads were companions in Fiji,’” said Sister Tuiqali.
“I was really happy, but my dad was even happier when he found out I would be serving with Sister Tuiqali,” said Sister St. John. “He gave me lots of advice about serving in that area of Fiji.”
“Sister Tuiqali and Sister St. John have been a blessing to the Fiji Suva Mission,” said Brad Markus, president of the Fiji Suva Mission.
“The fact that they are companions is a testament that Heavenly Father is mindful in every detail of our lives. It’s gratifying to know our Father in Heaven provided an opportunity for the fathers to be companions and then 34 years later blessed them again by allowing their daughters to serve as missionary companions.”
The two sister missionaries have been able to meet many of the same people that their fathers served on their mission, and many people have shared stories with them about their fathers.
“I wanted to experience the same things that my dad always told me about his mission,” said Sister St. John. “When I found out I was going to be serving in Fiji, it really boosted my eagerness in serving.”
They also explained that before they were companions, their fathers kept in touch a little bit, but since they’ve been companions, the fathers talk every week.
“It’s been fun seeing the miracles,” said Sister Tuiqali. “They are not the exact same miracles that our fathers experienced, but miracles of our own. It has been very good for both of us, especially as companions.”
Due to COVID-19 restrictions in Fiji, missionaries have needed to be creative in finding ways to reach those around them. Many have been able to find and teach people online. Sister St. John explained that her understanding of technology has increased as she has learned to use it during her mission.
Sister Tuiqali has been serving as a missionary for over six months, and her most recent assignment has been training Sister St. John, who began her service in February.

In the Owego New York Stake, members evacuated their homes, and some lived temporarily in a meetinghouse. One couple in Binghamton was rescued by a helicopter, and some in Owego were rescued by boat. Many stayed at shelters until the water receded.
Richard Miller, president of the Owego New York Stake, said that as the floods abated members were able to go in, clean up, and help the people affected.

In a recent Sunday Relief Society meeting, I listened to a young mother share part of her journey of conversion. She had grown up in the Church, with parents who taught her the gospel. She attended Primary, Young Women, and seminary. She loved to learn and discover truths. Her constant quest was to know why. Elder Russell M. Nelson has said, “The Lord can only teach an inquiring mind.”4 And this young woman was teachable.

After high school she attended a university, was sealed in the temple to a returned missionary, and was blessed with beautiful children.

With the spirit of inquiry, this mother continued to ask questions. But as the questions grew harder, so did the answers. And sometimes there were no answers—or no answers that brought peace. Eventually, as she sought to find answers, more and more questions arose, and she began to question some of the very foundations of her faith.

During this confusing time, some of those around her said, “Just lean on my faith.” But she thought, “I can’t. You don’t understand; you’re not grappling with these issues.” She explained, “I was willing to extend courtesy to those without doubts if they would extend courtesy to me.” And many did.

She said, “My parents knew my heart and allowed me space. They chose to love me while I was trying to figure it out for myself.” Likewise, this young mother’s bishop often met with her and spoke of his confidence in her.

Ward members also did not hesitate to give love, and she felt included. Her ward was not a place to put on a perfect face; it was a place of nurture.

“It was interesting,” she remembers. “During this time I felt a real connection to my grandparents who had died. They were pulling for me and urging me to keep trying. I felt they were saying, ‘Focus on what you know.’”

In spite of her substantial support system, she became less active. She said, “I did not separate myself from the Church because of bad behavior, spiritual apathy, looking for an excuse not to live the commandments, or searching for an easy out. I felt I needed the answer to the question ‘What do I really believe?’”

About this time she read a book of the writings of Mother Teresa, who had shared similar feelings. In a 1953 letter, Mother Teresa wrote: “Please pray specially for me that I may not spoil His work and that Our Lord may show Himself—for there is such terrible darkness within me, as if everything was dead. It has been like this more or less from the time I started ‘the work.’ Ask Our Lord to give me courage.”

Archbishop Périer responded: “God guides you, dear Mother; you are not so much in the dark as you think. The path to be followed may not always be clear at once. Pray for light; do not decide too quickly, listen to what others have to say, consider their reasons. You will always find something to help you. … Guided by faith, by prayer, and by reason with a right intention, you have enough.”5

My friend thought if Mother Teresa could live her religion without all the answers and without a feeling of clarity in all things, maybe she could too. She could take one simple step forward in faith—and then another. She could focus on the truths she did believe and let those truths fill her mind and heart.

As she reflected back, she said, “My testimony had become like a pile of ashes. It had all burned down. All that remained was Jesus Christ.” She continued, “But He does not leave you when you have questions. When anyone tries to keep the commandments, the door is wide open. Prayer and scripture study became incredibly important.”

Her first step to rebuild her faith was to start with basic gospel truths. She bought a Primary songbook and began reading the words of the songs. They were treasures to her. She prayed for faith to lift the heaviness she felt.

She learned that when she came up against a statement that caused her to doubt, she “could stop, look at the whole picture, and make the gospel personal.” She said, “I would ask, ‘Is this the right path for me and my family?’ Sometimes I would ask myself, ‘What do I want for my children?’ I realized I want them to have temple marriages. That’s when belief came back to my heart.”

Though she had questions about how the Book of Mormon came to be, she could not deny the truths she knew in the Book of Mormon. She had focused on studying the New Testament to better understand the Savior. “But eventually,” she said, “I found myself back in the Book of Mormon because I loved what I felt when reading about Jesus Christ and His Atonement.”

She concluded, “You have to have your own spiritual experiences with the truths in that book,” and she was having them. She explained, “I read in Mosiah and felt completely directed: ‘Believe in God; believe that he is, and that he created all things … ; believe that he has all wisdom, and all power, both in heaven and in earth; believe that man doth not comprehend all the things which the Lord can comprehend.’7”

About this time a call came to serve as Primary pianist. “It was safe,” she said. “I wanted to have my children in Primary, and now I could be with them. And I wasn’t ready to teach yet.” As she served, she continued to feel from those around her the invitation “Come; we want you, whatever stage you are at, and we will meet you there. Give us whatever you have to offer.”

Playing the Primary songs, she often thought to herself, “Here are truths I love. I can still bear testimony. I will just say those things that I know and trust. It may not be a perfect offering of knowledge, but it will be my offering. What I focus on expands inside of me. It is beautiful to get back to the essence of the gospel and feel clarity.”

On that Sunday morning, as I listened to this young sister share the story of her journey, I was reminded that “it is upon the rock of our Redeemer” that we all must build our foundation.8 I was also reminded of the counsel of Elder Jeffrey R. Holland: “Hold fast to what you already know and stand strong until additional knowledge comes.”9

In 1989, Robert M. and Lola Walker, a missionary couple in Ghana, were transferred to Ivory Coast. They could speak no French, so they were instructed to hire a translator and seek help from American families living there.
The Walkers accepted their assignment with some trepidation but with faith that the Lord would help them meet their new responsibility. At Church meetings in Abidjan, the Walkers initially understood only what the Spirit helped them understand. During one meeting, a young man approached them and asked in fluent English if he could help. That young man, Adolphe Mande Gueu, was the first of four translators the Walkers hired, taught, and baptized during their 14 months in Ivory Coast.
Before his baptism, Adolphe quickly became acquainted with the gospel through his translation of lessons and talks. His translation work for the Walkers prepared him to understand and gain a testimony of the Book of Mormon, which he read in three days. He says the Holy Ghost bore such a strong witness to him of the book’s truthfulness that he read it almost nonstop.
“This book testifies to me that your message comes from God,” Brother Gueu told the Walkers, “and my family and I must be a part of the gospel.”
Brother and Sister Gueu, along with their four children, have been stalwarts in the Church ever since their baptism in 1988. He was a branch president and later became the first teacher for the Church Educational System in Ivory Coast. Today he is the regional director for CES. Sister Gueu also has served in many callings, including president of the district Young Women organization.

I would like to tell you a story of an excellent athlete—a young man with superb character. He never went to the Olympics, but he stands as tall as any Olympian because he was honest with himself and with his God.
The account is told by a coach in a junior high school. He states:
“Today was test day in climbing the rope. We climb from a standing start to a point 15 feet high. [My job is] to train and teach the boys to negotiate this distance in as few seconds as possible.
“The school record for the event is 2.1 seconds. It has stood for three years. Today this record was broken. …
“For three years Bobby Polacio, a 14 1/2-year-old ninth-grade … boy, [trained and worked, consumed by his dream] of breaking this record.
“In his first of three attempts, Bobby climbed the rope in 2.1 seconds, tying the record. On the second try the watch stopped at 2.0 seconds flat, a record! But as he descended the rope and the entire class gathered around to check the watch, I knew I must ask Bobby a question. There was a slight doubt in my mind whether or not the board at the 15-foot height had been touched. If he missed, it was so very, very close—not more than a fraction of an inch—and only Bobby knew this answer.
“As he walked toward me, expressionless, I said, ‘Bobby, did you touch?’ If he had said, ‘Yes,’ the record he had dreamed of since he was a skinny seventh-grader and had worked for almost daily would be his, and he knew I would trust his word.
“With the class already cheering him for his performance, the slim, brown-skinned boy shook his head negatively. And in this simple gesture, I witnessed a moment of greatness. …
“… And it was with effort through a tight throat that I told the class: ‘This boy has not set a record in the rope climb. No, he has set a much finer record for you and everyone to strive for. He has told the … truth.’
“I turned to Bobby and said, ‘Bobby, I’m proud of you. You’ve just set a record many athletes never attain. Now, in your last try I want you to jump a few inches higher on the takeoff.’ …
“After the other boys had finished their next turns, and Bobby came up … for his try, a strange stillness came over the gymnasium. Fifty boys and one coach [watched] breathlessly [as] Bobby Polacio … climbed the rope in 1.9 seconds! A school record, a city record, and perhaps close to a national record for a junior high school boy.
“When the bell rang and I walked away, … I was thinking: ‘Bobby, … at 14 you are a better man than I. Thank you for climbing so very, very high today.’”

Then an older, graying couple came in. They had paid a full tithe and had given generously to the fast offering and missionary funds. As we visited, the husband said, “We would also like to contribute another check to the ward missionary fund. We’ll leave it up to you to credit this money to whichever missionary needs it most.” (At that time, fifteen missionaries were serving from our ward.)
When he handed me the check, I was astonished at how much additional money they were contributing. “But you gave that same amount a couple of weeks ago, with the same instructions,” I said. “Are you sure you can give that much again—and so soon?”
He and his wife assured me they could. And they reminded me that their gifts were to remain anonymous.
Then a young couple with several young children came into my office. Earlier that day in sacrament meeting, we had read a letter from the First Presidency, announcing that an additional category of voluntary contributions was now available to Church members—a “humanitarian fund.” Money donated to this category would be sent to Church headquarters and used for projects benefiting people worldwide, regardless of religious affiliation. This couple had lived in a developing nation and had witnessed the great needs there. Now they were donating a substantial sum to that fund, trusting that it would be put to the best possible use. I looked at their little children and then back at the parents. And I thought, “How can you do without this money at Christmastime?” But I had an idea that perhaps their Christmas would be even more fulfilling as a result.
Then there were the people who had contributed freely to the ward missionary fund, even though they had no missionary sons or daughters. There were those who had given to the general missionary fund and to the general Book of Mormon fund. And there were those who had contributed toward the yet-to-be-built Bountiful Utah Temple—even though they knew that the Church now pays for building projects through tithing, rather than through a separate building fund.
Later, another couple came in. They, too, had contributed liberally throughout the year. As we were about to conclude our visit, the husband said, “Bishop, is there anyone in the ward who has special needs this Christmas? We don’t have a lot of extra money, but we would like to give what we do have to someone who needs it.”
Immediately I thought of a single mother in our ward. She was doing her best to be self-reliant and certainly wasn’t looking for a handout. But money was tight. She was going back to school, and there were medical bills to pay. Surely she would be a worthy recipient of this couple’s generosity.
I accepted their offer in her behalf. They told me they weren’t interested in knowing the name of the receiver. And they, too, wanted to remain anonymous.
The husband pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and stacked several twenty-dollar bills on my desk. As he was doing so, his wife said, somewhat apologetically, “It’s not much. But now that our children are grown, we don’t feel that we’re doing as much in the ward as we used to. This is the least we can do.”
I protested at her apology, knowing they were doing much in their Church callings and in their quiet service to neighbors and to an elderly parent. And I thanked them for being so generous.
The next day, while taking the money to the recipient, I became a little uneasy. How would she receive this gift? Would she be offended? Would she hesitate to accept it?
When I handed the money to her, I described the spirit in which the gift had been given and encouraged her to receive it in that same spirit.
She accepted the money gratefully.
“I can accept this,” she said, “because when times were better for me, I often gave anonymously, just like this.” Then she told me about the secret projects her family had done over the years. She told me about times when she had purchased a frozen turkey and left it, with all the trimmings, on someone’s doorstep. She told me about anonymously mailing money to people who needed it, and about purchasing a coat and boots for the child of a needy friend. Now, in her time of need, she was a gracious receiver.
As I reviewed the monetary contributions so many ward members had made during the year, I couldn’t help remembering, too, their year’s worth of donated labor: The people who, week after week, had provided lessons and leadership—wherever they had been called to serve. The young men and young women who had cleaned the yards of elderly members, both in spring and in autumn. The sisters who had helped a member with wall-papering and painting. The elders and high priests who had done heavy yard work and repairs for those who were unable to do it alone. The young women and Relief Society sisters who had visited a homeless shelter several times—taking food, supplies, and encouragement. The young men who, without needing to be reminded, had gone out in teams and shoveled elderly members’ walks and driveways each time it snowed. The Scouts who had collected toys and books for the Primary Children’s Medical Center. The sisters who had taken meals and reassurance to the sick, the grieving, and the homebound. The priesthood brethren who had given countless blessings of health and comfort. The members who had donated time at the Church cannery to fill the shelves at the bishops’ storehouse. The many people who had quietly listened—and cared—and lifted. And the ones who had served in many ways without anyone else knowing anything about it.
And I thought of the many thank-yous from gracious receivers.
One was from a nine-year-old boy. Following is the letter he sent our Relief Society president and me after his family had received a load of food from the bishops’ storehouse (I have changed his brother’s name in order to preserve anonymity):
“Dear Bishop Gardner and Sister Thomas,
“I just got home from school. Ricky walked in first and said, ‘What in the … ?!’ Then I saw what he just saw. Food … Food! Food all over the place! Boxes, bags, cans, and even cartons of milk and eggs! Ricky said, ‘Look! There must be a million oranges!’
“We wanted to thank you, Sister Thomas, and the whole Church (especially our ward) for all the help you’re giving us right now, especially all this nice food donated from the bishops’ storehouse. It’s such a wonderful feeling to feel so loved, so cared for, and thought about.
“Gratefully.” (And he signed his full name.)
Then it was Christmas Eve. My own family of young children and teenagers were just finishing our annual Christmas pageant—complete with scriptures, carols, costumes, a real-live baby playing the part of the Christ child, a three-year-old Mary, a six-year-old Joseph, an angel, a shepherd, and a Wise Man. (I always somehow end up with the role of the donkey.)
There was a knock at the door. It was Santa Claus! In living color! He ho-ho-hoed himself into the living room, made a big fuss over each child, reached into his enormous sack, and pulled out a gift for each member of the family. As he did so, I noticed a vague resemblance between Santa and a member of our ward.
Then he wished us all a Merry Christmas and was off. Two of the youngest children were determined to see the reindeer for themselves, and they raced out to the front porch. But Santa must have parked his sleigh down the street somewhere. We watched and listened to his sleigh bells jingle as he trotted merrily through the neighborhood and disappeared into the snowy darkness.
What a Christmas it was—my first Christmastime as bishop! How could I ever express my gratitude for the many ward members who had made it a joyful time of giving and receiving—and for all who carry that spirit with them throughout the year?
And how could I ever express my gratitude and love for the Savior, Jesus Christ, who had set the pattern and had given the greatest gift of all?
Certainly, my nine-year-old friend is right: “It’s such a wonderful feeling to feel so loved, so cared for, and thought about.”

One young man strayed from the Church for years before finally returning. At a testimony meeting he said: “I got involved in a lot of things I shouldn’t have in an effort to fit in with the popular group, but I always knew something was missing. When I finally repented and returned to full activity in the Church, I didn’t feel that void anymore. I came back, and through the forgiveness of Jesus Christ and His perfect love, I know this is where I belong.”

The best part about the pageant is the spirit that surrounds it. Eighteen-year-old Janna Halcomb’s brother encouraged her to try out for the pageant with him just before he left on his mission to Hungary. “That year we were able to be angels together,” she says. “It was such an incredible experience. The Spirit on the temple grounds is so strong, and as we bore witness of the Savior and His life my testimony was strengthened.”

While serving with her husband, George C. Pingree, as he presided over the Nigeria Port Harcourt Mission, Sister Pingree focused some of her efforts on promoting literacy, especially among auxiliary leaders. “I’ll never forget how joyful the sisters were when they learned to read. When they stood up in training meetings and read simple sentences about their leadership responsibility, the other women there would clap for them, they were so happy,” says Sister Pingree. “It opened up a whole new world.”

When I met my wife, Pamela, she was the only member of the Church in her family. When we decided to get married, something seemed an obstacle. I had no money to get all the items listed by her father as requirements for her bride price.
I was a graduate with no job. The little I made from odd jobs here and there was barely enough. I lived in my Father’s house at the time. Faced with these challenges, Pamela and I fasted and prayed to Heavenly Father for help. I knew the Lord through His prophets and apostles have counseled that “young people should follow the Lord’s pattern of marriage in the temple without waiting for the payment of a bride price” (Dallin H. Oaks, “The Gospel Culture, Ensign, March 2012, 45). But Pamela’s father was not a member of the Church and saw this practice as proper traditional rites for marriage. After counseling with the Bishop, I decided to make a move. I love Pamela and wanted to obey the Lord’s commandment to marry in the temple. But I did not want to do that without the consent of her parents.
After a difficult and trying period, with the help of other, I began to get offers to paint buildings. After three painting jobs, I gathered the little I had, called on my family and travelled to Pamela’s village. Still, things seemed difficult and the marriage seemed impossible. Despair, melancholy and anger almost took over my faith, but the encouraging words of the leaders and the scriptures kept me focused and continue to trust in the Lord.
We were married traditionally on 13 February, 2016, wedded on 2 April and Sealed in Aba Nigeria Temple on 5 April in the same year. It felt like a dream to us. The Lord raised people who offered to help us with one thing or the other. The Lord literally made it happen. That experience is etched in our memories as one the many of the Lord’s miracles in our lives, a manifestation of His tender mercies towards us.
We have been joyfully married for almost three years now in the mercies of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Her father chuckled. “He’d have to, to convince a constable sent to arrest him, and a hardhead like you. I’d like to hear him speak. My family and I will join you next Sunday.”
At noon on Sunday the Weston family began the long walk to the Benbow farm. Charity didn’t mind walking. She’d waited all week for this. Maybe something exciting would happen!
The meeting hall was almost filled when they arrived. She sat high on her father’s knee so that she could see over the heads of the people.
Suddenly a wave of whispering rolled through the people. Charity turned and saw two men dressed in dark suits sit down behind them.
Charity heard Father whisper to Mother, “Those are the rector’s clerks. He must have sent them to find out what is so all-fired appealing about this new preacher. I hope that they won’t cause any trouble. I have my heart set on hearing a good old-fashioned sermon.”
The audience quieted as Mr. Woodruff stood to speak. In a short time another wave flowed over the audience. This time it was the power of the Holy Ghost. Everyone sitting there could feel the truth of Mr. Woodruff’s words. They knew that he’d been sent to teach them about the Savior.
Tears rolled unchecked down her mother’s cheeks, and her father’s arm tightened around Charity as he grew more absorbed in the sermon.
When Mr. Woodruff finished speaking, he invited everyone to join the true church. Her father and mother stood up, ready to join those seeking to be baptized. Before they could move, the two clerks shouldered their way toward the pulpit.
The crowd parted as the two black-garbed men made their way to the front. Their faces were solemn, and Charity began to shiver. What would they do?
Mr. Woodruff greeted them pleasantly and waited for them to speak. With heads high, they humbly asked to join Christ’s church.
Another wave of noise filled the hall. Everyone wanted to talk about the clerks, the constable, Elder Woodruff—and their own baptisms! This was unheard of! It was an exciting time.
Father’s chuckle soothed her like the sound of water flowing over smooth rocks. “That does it for the rector,” he said and chuckled again. “He’s lost a constable and two clerks. I don’t think he’ll dare send anyone else to hear this preacher. Any good man will recognize the truth of his words. Any good person would feel the Spirit. I believe him. I’m going to be baptized into Christ’s church by someone with the authority to do so.”
Charity held onto his hand as he cleared a path to the front for his family. She felt a feeling of peace and security, and she knew that her father and mother would guide her along the right path until she, too, was old enough to be baptized.

When I turned 21, I started feeling promptings to serve a mission. I had never planned on a mission, so these thoughts were unexpected. My priesthood leader encouraged me to pray about it, and I did so.
My answer came very clearly: I knew that God wanted me to serve a mission. I initially felt excited about serving, but leaving on a mission was more challenging than I had anticipated.
My boss did not understand why I would leave for 18 months, and he didn’t want to give me time off to prepare for leaving. He gave me an ultimatum: “Work or don’t work. It’s your choice.” As scary as it was to not work in the final weeks before my mission, I chose to leave that job.
Completing the medical requirements was also complicated. My doctor in my native country, Russia, had never seen the Church’s missionary medical documents before and refused to sign them.
Obstacles like these made me wonder whether I had really made the right choice. Several times I came close to changing my mind. But in those times of doubt, I remembered the answer I had received to my prayer and was able to stick to my decision to serve. Eventually, I found solutions to these and other challenges I encountered.
I was called to serve in the Russia St. Petersburg Mission. The first few months in the mission field were not easy. But because of what I learned in dealing with the obstacles I faced in preparing to serve, I was able to confront the challenges of my mission. My mission—and the difficulties I faced in preparing for it—taught me that I can do difficult things with the Lord’s help.

Noah, aged 11, has gone to extraordinary lengths to help his little sister Ellerie. Five-year-old Ellerie suffers from trichotillomania, a disorder characterised by recurrent hair pulling. Ellerie has benefited from help from The Little Princess Trust, who provide human hair wigs to children that experience hair loss due to cancer and other conditions, with the aim to help promote their self-esteem and sense of well-being. The charity welcomes hair donations of ponytails 12 inches or longer.
Noah says, “I have learned, as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, to always look for ways that I can help others. The charity helped my little sister feel so happy. I wanted to help them in their work, so they can continue putting a smile on other children’s faces too.”
Noah started to grow his hair over two years ago, with the idea of donating it as soon as he could. Along with having his hair cut, he has managed to raise over £300 for the trust.
Ellerie is delighted with her big brother’s sacrifice and excitedly says, “I loved Noah’s long hair, but I love that he gave it to be made into a wig, for a little girl or boy, who doesn’t have any hair of their own anymore.”

“If you aren’t happy, you are doing something wrong.” I’m sure when my Sunday School teacher told us this, he never imagined how I would misinterpret it. I wrote it down and posted it on my mirror, knowing I wasn’t very happy. I cried in my room many nights—out of fear, disappointment, and self-pity. So I began to feel that I must be doing something terribly wrong. Even though I couldn’t exactly pinpoint it, I knew I must have some fatal flaw.
Of course, I wasn’t perfect as a teenager. But now I know that my feelings of unworthiness were not justified. Most of my sorrow came from the choices of others. And their choices were almost completely beyond my control. I was a child in my family. And as a child, I was not responsible for the overall success or failure of my family. Nor was I responsible for my parents’ choices.
The same is true for you. You may have an alcoholic parent or parents who fight or parents who violate the commandments. True, you need to do your best to not be part of the problem, but try not to complicate your situation with false feelings of guilt.
Sometimes making it through a divorce or another kind of family difficulty is a matter of simply hanging on. Hang on to the reality that your Heavenly Father loves you and your family deeply and eternally.
Often, my prayers for my family seemed to go unanswered. Sometimes, the more I prayed, the worse things seemed to get. I didn’t know then that, though the Lord shares our sorrow, he will not force change. But over time, his love can often find a way to bring even greater blessings than we had prayed for. So many of those fervent prayers of long ago have now been answered. And I now know that he has never ceased trying to bless my loved ones.
Hang on to the scriptures that fill you with faith. For example, “Let your hearts be comforted; for all things shall work together for good to them that walk uprightly” (D&C 100:15).
Find music that feeds your spirit. How many nights I found peace by singing to myself, “When you walk through a storm, hold your head up high, and don’t be afraid of the dark. At the end of the storm is a golden sky and the sweet, silver song of the lark. Walk on through the wind. Walk on through the rain, though your dreams be tossed and blown. Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart, and you’ll never walk alone. You’ll never walk alone” (Rodgers and Hammerstein, “You’ll Never Walk Alone,” Carousel).
If your family’s unhappiness includes abuse—physical, sexual, or emotional—you may need to ask for help. Find an adult—a parent, Church leader, social worker, school counselor, or physician—whom you trust and who will take you seriously. This may be embarrassing and very difficult. But sometimes intervention from outside the family is needed to protect you and other family members.
Hang on to leaders and friends who encourage you and help you keep your faith and standards. Brother Cherrington, a stake patriarch in our ward, always made me feel that I was someone special and that I would make it.
Hang on to your patriarchal blessing and the vision of yourself it gives you. Its promises, however distant they may seem, are real and eternal. The Lord knew all about your present difficulties when he gave those promises, and they will be fulfilled.
Hang on to the reality that you are not alone in your situation. As a teenager, I felt that my family and our problems were unique. When my best friend spent the night at my house, I worried that she would notice what I wanted to hide. Not until we were adults did we discover that her family had very similar problems to mine.
Don’t be fooled by appearances. The most confident, witty, and popular of your friends may face problems even greater than yours. Even the most faithful families may have deep challenges. Knowing this can help you break out of the prison of being totally absorbed with your own problems. Let it also prompt you to reach out in love to your friends, even when your own problems seem great.
In times of difficulty, how can we possibly keep a positive attitude? In August 1831, the Prophet Joseph Smith and ten elders were returning to Kirtland, Ohio, from a missionary journey to Jackson County, Missouri. On the third day of their trip, they had a perilous canoe ride down the Missouri River. They must have been tired and shaken, possibly homesick as well. Then the Lord reassured them with these gentle words: “Be of good cheer, little children; for I am in your midst, and I have not forsaken you” (D&C 61:36).
We, too, can be assured that the Lord will never leave us alone. During my teenage years, I did not always recognize his presence. Now I know that when my way was the most perilous, he was always with me.
We need to also know that our Heavenly Father’s plan of salvation is infinitely more just and merciful than we can possibly comprehend. He will leave nothing undone for the blessing of his children. Truly, there are no eternal orphans in his loving plan.
Although we must live in the present, we can also live for the future. We can live for the day when we can go to the temple to receive greater understanding and blessings than we now enjoy. We can live for the day when we can make a home of our own—a home where we can strive to bring love, peace, and the Spirit. We can also live for the day when we can nurture others as we may not have been nurtured ourselves.
For me, this day has come at last. I know that it can come for you.

I am a cheerleader for a junior football team. During the halftime show we do a dance. My mom heard the music and realized that there were bad words in the song. She found the instrumental version of the song and gave it to my coach so that we could use that version instead. The first game came, and the coach told my mom that the cheerleaders did not have enough time to practice the dance with the instrumental version, and we would have to perform with the bad words in the song. I told my coach I would not be able to dance to the song if the words were still in it. My coach decided to use the instrumental version. We did not do as well because the song was different, but I know that I stood up for what I know is right.