Gospel Story Finder

Let me share one last example. Have you ever had a hard time adapting to a change in your life? Have you ever felt like the world came crashing down and it would be hard to continue breathing? Sometimes change can feel this way to me.

I remember feeling this way when I was single after painful changes in relationships. I have felt this way after graduating and not feeling like I had found my next steps forward. I felt this way after my dad died in a plane crash. I felt this way after my wife had a difficult miscarriage. In such times, it takes courage and faith to believe, You can live successfully here if you make Christ the center of your life.

After a particularly difficult change in my life, I was all ripped up inside. I decided I would go on a walk to try to sort things out and search for peace. I started by walking around the temple—this is always a good place to start. As I walked, I began praying. About a half hour into the walk, I had the idea that I needed to quit thinking and praying about the pain I was wrestling with and instead to think about Jesus Christ. To help me focus on Christ, I recited “The Living Christ,” the family proclamation, the Articles of Faith, Doctrine and Covenants 4, and some of my favorite verses from Alma 7. I recited them over and over as I walked for hours. I recited the words to several hymns and listened to many more. I listened to several chapters in the scriptures. I went through these passages trying to exercise faith to focus on Jesus Christ instead of the pain and confusion in my heart. President Nelson has taught, “It is mentally rigorous to strive to look unto [Jesus] in every thought. But when we do, our doubts and fears flee.” [23] I testify this is true!

Before dropping exhausted into bed that night, I prayed to find renewal, revelation, and a changed heart in the morning. Sometimes it takes many such walks and many such nights before that morning of hope and renewal. But I testify that if we exercise the mental rigor to make Christ the center of our lives, they come. [24]

As a teenager, I dreaded church.
I believed the gospel was true, and I knew that attending church was necessary for me to continue to grow spiritually. But I often felt inadequate.
In my mind, I thought I couldn’t live up to everyone’s expectations of what a good member of the Church should be like (or what I thought everyone’s expectations were). Everyone else seemed to be bubbly, outgoing, eloquent, and always willing to bear testimony or say a prayer. But me? I was quiet and I felt anxious in social situations. So I didn’t feel like I had a light to shine as a member of the Church.
During college I moved into a new apartment, and my roommate introduced me to her friends in the ward. I immediately felt like I belonged with them because of their love and acceptance they showed me. I felt like they genuinely wanted to get to know me. To my surprise, I felt a great deal of my social anxiety subside.
I realized this sense of belonging didn’t come from a change in scenery, but from a changed perspective. I learned that I don’t have to be outgoing to be a disciple of Jesus Christ. There is strength in quiet. There is strength in listening and pondering. By recognizing my strengths as a more introverted person and tackling my weaknesses related to social anxiety, I found a middle ground that helped me survive—and even thrive in the gospel.
One question I asked myself was why I even went to church in the first place. I went to take the sacrament, to learn more about Jesus Christ, and to be worthy of the temple. But the scriptures also tell us that “the body [of the Church] hath need of every member, that all may be edified together” (Doctrine and Covenants 84:110; see also Ephesians 4:12).
While church meetings nourish our own testimonies, I realized that church is not only about me. We individually remember the Savior as we take the sacrament, but we are edified together as we share this ordinance as a congregation.
I was too concerned about what others thought about me and not concerned enough with the principle that should guide us in all our thoughts and actions: love. The prophet Mormon wrote, “I fear not what man can do; for perfect love casteth out all fear” (Moroni 8:16).
I realized that I don’t have to be best friends with everyone or be the most popular person in the ward. What is most important is not the quantity of my social interaction but the quality of my relationships. Instead of worrying about everyone at once, I just focus on connecting with one person each week at church.
Church is still a challenge sometimes, but as I have gently pushed myself to step outside my comfort zone and overcome my social anxiety, I have felt the Savior’s love for me and for all of His children. I am beginning to find my place. I know I’ve received grace through the Atonement of Jesus Christ to work toward overcoming my weaknesses and to use my strengths to build up the kingdom of God.

In the United States Senate today, there are six members of the LDS faith. That’s a pretty good percentage given that we represent less than one percent of the country’s population. I was sworn in as a new senator in January of 2013. As you know, a term in the Senate is six years (which, by the way, is one of the founding fathers’ greatest achievements). I served 12 years, or six terms, in the House, and every other January, every member of the House of Representatives stands in unison, pledging to uphold and defend the Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic.

In the U.S. Senate, only one-third of the body is sworn in every two years, which allows for a more personal swearing in ceremony. Four senators at a time are escorted to the well of the Senate chamber, where the Vice President of the United States, who also serves as President of the Senate, reads the oath of office and “swears you in.” We were invited to bring our own family bibles to hold in our left hand as our right arm is raised as this rite is performed.

I, of course, brought a leather-bound quad, with the Standard Works listed on the cover. I wondered what someone in the chamber or somebody watching C-SPAN might think if they saw it, but it passed without notice. I returned to my seat in the Senate chamber and as the next group of four newly-elected Senators passed toward the well, one stopped and said, “Senator Flake, I forgot my bible, can I borrow yours?” “Sure.” I said, wondering how long it would take before he looked down to realize that he was holding something a bit heavier than just the King James Version of the Bible.

I breathed a sigh of relief when he returned to my desk without incident, handing the book back, thanking me. I looked across the well of the Senate and saw the majority leader, Harry Reid, a member of our faith, wearing a big smile. He walked over and asked, “Brother Flake, when are you going to inform that good senator that he just swore his oath on the Book of Mormon?” I said, “I think I’ll see how he votes for awhile.”

Like many of you, when I was growing up I tended to devote my time to things that I naturally excelled at. But I learned something valuable when I chose to devote some time to something that I'm not naturally good at. A few years ago, I decided to train for a marathon. I have never been a regular runner...in fact, I was pretty vocal about the fact that running was torture to me. In spite of these feelings, I decided to overcome my fears and train for a marathon.

While I never ran fast, and definitely didn't break any records (you know the people at the very, very end of a race? Well, I was just ahead of them). I learned that running a marathon is all about time and patience and just putting one foot in front of the other. That's the essential decision that I had to make...keep going, one step at a time.

Changing things about ourselves is basically the same. One foot in front of the other, day after day. This takes a lot of patience.

I have felt this same kind of fear many times. I felt it when I knocked on the door of a sullen and resentful woman who didn’t want visiting teachers, but whose unhappy life cried out for the healing power of the gospel. I felt it with a neighbor who had had such a bad experience in his family life that the joy of the gospel was hidden from him. I felt it when a member of my own family suffered prolonged physical pain.
I began to have the same kinds of experiences with other people. The lady to whom I was assigned to be a visiting teacher became comfortable enough to go with me to church. My neighbor who had had a bad family life enjoyed being with me and my friends so much that he began resisting the negative influences of his family.
My efforts to love others as the Savior loved have not always been successful. I am not strong enough alone to withstand the pressures and frustrations of my own and others’ imperfections. We cannot bless others if we rely solely on our own strength, or even if we ask God to help us use our own strength. We must allow the love of Christ to fill our souls. Then we become instruments of a power stronger and higher than anything we can become on our own.
“Abide in me,” the Savior taught, “and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine, no more can ye, except ye abide in me.
“I am the vine, ye are the branches: he that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit; for without me ye can do nothing.” (John 15:4–5.)
When I read this passage, I like to imagine a branch being broken off of a grapevine. The branch quickly withers and dies. It is no more able to bear fruit, for it cannot live without the life-sustaining vine. In the same way, if we do not draw our life from Christ, even though we may not see anything happen immediately, we are dying spiritually as surely as the branch died physically. We are not able to bring forth the fruit of service, “for without me ye can do nothing.” But if we do abide in Christ and allow his life-giving love and strength to fill our souls, we have a great promise. Christ continued:
“If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you.
“Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit; so shall ye be my disciples.
“As the Father hath loved me, so have I loved you: continue ye in my love.
“If ye keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love.” (John 15:7–10.)
I have found that if I come humbly and faithfully before God each morning and ask him to fill my soul with his love, I am blessed abundantly. I can care more for others, serve them with less fear of my inadequacy, and bless them in ways that would be impossible without his help. In a small way, I have learned to “abide in his love.”
The realization that the best way to help others is to love them unconditionally has brought new joy and energy to my efforts to serve. As I rely more completely upon the Savior for the love that can bless others, I feel more a part of his great work of salvation. And I rejoice in the goodness I now see more clearly in all of his children.

By all appearances, Elder Clark* was an ideal missionary. He was obedient, baptized and confirmed many people, and was loved by his companions and Church members. During the last few months of his mission he served as my assistant in the mission office. So when I saw him following his mission I was surprised when he confided that he had had a very difficult time at the beginning of his mission. He was homesick, frustrated with learning the language, and having difficulty with the missionary schedule and rules. However, he knew he had been called by the Lord to serve his mission and that the Lord would support him. So he knelt to talk to the Lord, sharing his concerns and pleading for His help in overcoming them. “As I did this,” Elder Clark told me, “I felt a real change in my being. I felt the Lord’s support and strength. Ideas and good feelings came to me, and I began to overcome my negative concerns. With God’s help, I became a successful missionary.”

Five years ago, I took two of my sons back to Tonga for a visit. While there, we decided to fly to the island of Vavau to visit my brother. On the way back to the main island, we decided to take the boat for "sight-seeing." It took us 16 long hours to get back, for we had to drop off and pick up people along the way, especially from Haapai group. As we got to Nomuka Island, two men couldn't wait for the small boat to pick them up. There was no dock or harbor, so they jumped off our boat and swam ashore. An old and wise man turned to me and said, "This is what I call tuku e vaka kae fai e kakau", a Tongan proverb that says - according to Brother Hafoka's version - "Forget the boat & swim". So I wondered, "Why would someone leave the safety of the boat to swim? The boat was perfectly fine; there was no fire onboard or anything. Though they could swim faster than the little boat, the little boat was still safer. So why would we leave the safety of the boat and swim?" Why would we try to find our own way and struggle, and suffer, and may not make it when the Savior said, "I am the way..."?

I was on the baseball team in high school, but I needed shoulder surgery my junior year and was unable to recover enough to play. When I had to quit baseball, I was very torn up. I wasn’t sure what to do with my life.
I have always been into music and had started writing songs on my guitar. For a long time I did this as a hobby and nothing more, but when I couldn’t spend my time playing baseball, I decided to transfer all of my passion into my music. I contacted a friend who had a home recording studio, and we started recording some of my songs. After four months I came out with an eight-song CD.
My parents have been encouraging me to save up for my mission since I was very young, but until this point I still didn’t have a lot of money in my mission fund. I decided that once my CD was finished I would sell it and save all of the profit for my mission fund. My goal is to make half the money I need for my mission through my music.
I know how important serving a mission is, and I’m working hard to earn the money I need. While it was disappointing to not be able to play baseball anymore, I know the Lord has a plan for me. I can’t play baseball, but I can play music. I see now how the Lord has opened up a way for me to earn some of the money I need to serve Him on a full-time mission.

We take an oath to be friendly, kind, and courteous. At a national jamboree a 12-year-old Scout got separated from his patrol. He was standing alone in a sea of Scouts and about to break into tears. An older Scout saw him and went over and introduced himself. “I have a gift for you,” the older boy said. “It is a hand-carved bolo tie. A great Scouter, Bill Burch, carved it. He numbers each one. He has carved over 40,000.”
The older Scout presented the tie to the young scared Scout. About that time the patrol found the boy. They gathered around him, and for a few moments he was the center of attention with his new bolo tie. The tears had disappeared; he felt important. The older Scout had truly been friendly.

Some time ago, I attended a young single adult ward on the campus of Boise State University. It was particularly poignant for me because, just a few weeks earlier, our daughter Michelle had left for college for the first time. I was missing her, and I couldn’t help but wonder what she would be doing that day.I was blessed to participate in a multitude of meetings and discussions with many faithful young students in that ward. Sacrament meeting felt especially sacred that day.

During the meeting, I noticed a young woman about the same age as our daughter who entered the meeting late and quietly took a seat in the back—about three rows into the cultural hall. She looked like she had a bright future at school and in every aspect of her life. As the emblems of the sacrament were passed, I noticed that she lowered her head and did not partake.

I decided right then to address my remarks to this young sister. So, without her knowing that she had inspired me, I spoke on the infinite Atonement of the Savior Jesus Christ and the incredible blessings of repentance and forgiveness. I shared the precious truths that we are all commanded to repent and that repentance is merely coming unto Christ and being changed in Him. He truly is “the way, the truth, and the life”; happiness and peace come in and through Him and in no other way.

At the conclusion of the meeting, I looked for this sister, but she had disappeared.

The next meeting was a large Sunday School class in the cultural hall. To my surprise and delight, this young sister had returned and was in class. The lesson was a discussion primarily focused on the blessings of repentance, forgiveness, and coming unto Christ. This sister was again noticeably touched.

When Sunday School ended, the stake president, who was not aware of my concern for this young woman, said to me, “Elder Nattress, last week I attended Relief Society,” adding, somewhat sheepishly, “I hope that’s OK!” I assured him it was OK. He continued, “It was fascinating!” He then asked if I would be interested in attending a Relief Society meeting. I told him that I would love to.

When we arrived, I noticed this same young sister sitting on the front row. After the opening hymn and prayer, the Relief Society president announced, “We will now turn the balance of the meeting over to Elder Nattress.”

I was both shocked and unprepared. I stood up, and my mind went completely blank. I didn’t know what to say. But I gathered my thoughts just enough to ask a question: “What is the greatest challenge facing you today?”

Immediately, on the back row, a young sister raised her hand. She emphatically declared, “It’s the young men of this Church!” She continued with a list of several concerns—each one legitimate and very important.

Then the young sister on the front row raised her hand. With tears streaming down her face, she simply said, “The greatest challenge facing me today is that I know I need to repent.” With sincere and heartfelt pleading, she said, “After falling so far, how does one come back?”

She continued: “I haven’t been active in the Church for nearly two years. This morning, when I got up, I decided I would try one last time to come to church. And now I’m here.”

After she spoke, sisters started to gather around this young woman, literally and figuratively, and helped her feel the love of the Savior. Her wise stake president stood and said, “I don’t know you, but, after the meeting, I would like to give you a priesthood blessing.” Following the meeting, her stake president, her bishop, and I placed hands on her head, and her stake president gave her a beautiful priesthood blessing. It was a sacred moment.

In the following weeks, I frequently checked in with the stake president to see how this young sister was doing. His response was always the same: “She is doing great!” Several months later, I called and asked again. He responded that she had moved home. I asked if she was OK. His response was somewhat reassuring. He said, “She is just fine, Elder Nattress.” However, I was still concerned for her.

Several weeks after that call, I attended a stake conference. At the conclusion of the conference, a young single adult sister who looked very familiar approached me and said, “Do you remember me?” She continued, “I am the girl from Boise State University.”

It was her! I asked how she was doing. She said, “I am the Relief Society president of my ward.” She then added: “I am so grateful for the gospel of Jesus Christ. I am grateful for the gift of repentance. My life is changed forever.”

Following that meeting, Sister Nattress and I continued to stay in contact with her. Eventually, we received a phone call from this wonderful young sister, who said, “Elder Nattress! I’m engaged to be married in the Rexburg Idaho Temple. Will you and Sister Nattress come?”

We arranged our schedules and were blessed to witness a perfect moment in time when she and a worthy young man knelt across an altar in the Rexburg Temple and were sealed for time and for all eternity. She had returned to the covenant path.

In the spring, Jason planted three pumpkin seeds in the corner of the garden. His sister, Ellen, planted three tomato plants, and his brother, Tom, planted a row of corn.
The warm sun shone. The rain fell. All the plants grew, but Jason’s pumpkin vines grew the most. They spread all across the garden and had large, green leaves. By July, they had beautiful orange flowers. Jason kept busy pulling the weeds from around them and watering them with the garden hose.
Ellen’s tomato plants blossomed, too, but they had only small, yellow flowers. Before long, though, little green tomatoes appeared on them. And ears of corn began to grow on Tom’s cornstalks.
“Where are my pumpkins?” Jason asked.
“Look under the leaves,” Tom told him.
Sure enough, tiny green pumpkins were growing there.
Soon the first of Ellen’s tomatoes were large and red. Mother sliced some for sandwiches. Then Tom’s ears of corn grew big and plump, and they roasted some on picnics. The tomatoes and the corn were delicious, and Jason wished that he had planted them, instead.
“Just wait,” Ellen told him. “The pumpkins will get ripe.”
The pumpkins got bigger, but they were still green and hard when Tom and Ellen started back to school. Tom’s corn had all been eaten or quick-frozen for winter meals by then.
One night there was to be a frost, so the whole family went to the garden and picked all the tomatoes—even the green ones—still on Ellen’s plants. They would be made into spaghetti sauce or preserves.
“What about my pumpkins?” Jason asked.
“They’ll be all right. Pumpkins like frost,” Father said.
The next morning Jason ran outside and across the white, frosty lawn. “My pumpkin vine is black and dead!” he cried.
“But look at your pumpkins,” Mother pointed out. “They’re turning orange.”
Soon the pumpkins were bright orange. They were huge. Father cut one from the vine, and Mother made it into delicious pumpkin pies. Then, on the Saturday before Halloween, the rest of the pumpkins were cut from the vines. A couple of them were canned for winter pies and pumpkin bread, then all but three were given to friends.
The last three were for Tom and Ellen and Jason for jack-o’-lanterns. Tom and Ellen made scary faces on theirs, but Father helped Jason cut a big grin on his. Jason was very proud—pumpkins were worth waiting for!

Katie danced into the kitchen, where her brother, Jack sat at the table. “What are you doing?” she asked as she twirled on her toes.
“I’m writing a thank-you note to Uncle Ed,” Jack told her. “He gave me his old stamp collection.”
“I want to write a thank-you note too.”
“That would be nice, but since tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, why don’t you make valentines, instead?” her brother suggested.
Katie twirled again while she thought about that. Then she started smiling. “I have another idea,” she told Jack. Then she hurried off to her bedroom.
Katie found her colored paper and markers. She got her scissors and glue. She took some white paper and cut out five wide heart-shaped ruffles. Then she glued each one on a piece of red paper. On the first one, she drew trees on one side of the ruffle and a letter carrier waving on the other side. In the middle, she printed “Thank You, from Katie.” Next, she made one with striped balls around the ruffle, and one with a piano on each side of the ruffle. The last one she made had checkerboard squares around the ruffle. All the heart centers said, “Thank You, from Katie.”
Katie put the valentine with the striped balls into her dad’s shoe. He always played catch with her.
She put the one with the pianos into her mom’s coat pocket. Mom played the piano with Katie, and they sang songs.
She slipped the checkerboard ruffle valentine inside Jack’s desk. He was teaching her how to play checkers.
She put the last ruffled heart into their mailbox. The letter carrier always waved to her as he walked by.
Early the next morning, Katie’s dad started to get ready for work. He felt sleepy and a little cranky. When he grabbed his shoes, Katie’s thank-you valentine tumbled out. Dad looked at the striped ball and smiled because he liked to play catch with Katie. He read the thank-you in the middle and smiled again. He started whistling.
In the afternoon, Mom had to go grocery shopping. She snatched her shopping list and hurried out the door. She was in such a rush that she didn’t even wave to their neighbor, Mrs. James. But when Mom put the shopping list into her pocket, she found Katie’s thank-you valentine. She looked at the pianos on the ruffle and smiled. She read the message and smiled again. Then she stopped to show Mrs. James the special thank-you valentine and asked if she needed anything from the store.
An icy wind nipped at the letter carrier’s cheeks as he walked down Katie’s street. When he put some letters into Katie’s mailbox, her thank-you valentine blew out. He caught it and looked at the pictures. He read the message and smiled. Then he waved to Katie and smiled all the way down the street.
After school, Jack sighed as he went to his room to work on his math homework. Numbers mixed him up, and he wanted to eat supper. Jack opened his desk to get a pencil, and Katie’s thank-you valentine popped out. Jack looked at the checkerboard ruffle and smiled. He read the thank-you in the center and smiled again as he began figuring out his math problems.
Later, Jack found Katie feeding her goldfish. “I like my thank-you valentine,” he told her.
“Really?”
“Of course! Everyone likes it when someone remembers to say thank you. Now, how about a game of checkers?”
“Sure!” Katie danced off to get the game.

Jamie was the smallest nine-year-old in the Regional Junior Olympics, and it was kind of scary competing against larger boys. But Jamie was pretty good at push-ups and had won first place in his Cub Scout contest. He grinned broadly at Mom, Dad, and his sister Karen, who had come to cheer for him.
At the signal, Jamie pushed up and down with all his might. Soon the perspiration was rolling down his face, and his shoulders strained until he thought they would surely snap. Up and down, up and down, with the judge counting each push-up.
“Time!” shouted the judge, and Jamie collapsed on the grass.
“Fifty-two for Jamie Roberts,” announced the scorekeeper and everyone clapped. Jamie had done more push-ups in one minute than anyone else his age.
“I’m proud of you, son,” Dad said.
Jamie beamed. He had really done it, and it was fun!
Next came the 100-yard dash. I should really do well here, thought Jamie. I’m a pretty good runner. Brother Brown had challenged him, “We’re counting on you for a blue ribbon in the race, Jamie.”
“Run really fast, Jamie!” cried five-year-old Karen.
The boys were divided into six groups, and the winners would compete in the final races. Jamie raced three times, winning each race. He was hot but not really tired.
Every boy in the race was eager to win. Their faces looked strained and some were panting as they lined up, one foot on the chalk line, the other stretched out behind in a starting position. Jamie spaced himself between two taller boys, crouched low, and waited for the starting whistle. When it came, he was off down the field. He couldn’t ever remember running so fast. His head was back and he felt the wind in his face from his own speed. Every part of Jamie strained to go faster, faster, and he felt the two boys right behind him and heard their heavy breathing. He knew he was ahead and meant to stay there.
Then it happened! One foot slipped in a low spot on the field, just enough to throw Jamie off balance. His feet tangled together and before he could put out his arms, the ground seemed to rise up and hit him squarely in the chest. The next thing he knew he was gasping for breath and spitting dry, bitter dust from his mouth. He heard the crowd cheering for the winners and knew that the race was over and that he was lying in the dust twenty feet from the finish line.
He dragged himself off the field and hid his face in his hands, wishing he were someplace else.
An official put his hand on Jamie’s shoulder and said, “Run and get your card signed, Jamie. You can still get points for finishing if you hurry.”
Jamie stumbled numbly across the finish line and handed his card to the judge. How everyone must be laughing, he thought. How dumb I was to think I could win anything. He turned to Dad. “Let’s go home. I don’t want to be in any more contests.”
Dad put his arm around Jamie as they walked off the field. “Son, we can go now if that’s what you really want. I know you’re disappointed, but the real winners aren’t always those who cross the finish line first, they’re the ones who hang in there even when it’s tough.”
“But Dad, I hurt all over. I’m going to be sick.”
“Let’s sit down and rest with Mom and Karen while you think it over. Then if you still want to, we’ll go, OK?”
“I guess so,” Jamie answered. His knees stung where he had fallen on them, his stomach felt tight, and the words, “We’re counting on you for a blue ribbon,” kept repeating in his head. But I’ve failed, he thought. I can’t throw the softball now. I just can’t. Tears and dust stung his eyes. He wished that somehow he could disappear.
“Drink some lemonade, Jamie, you’ll feel better,” Mother said as she offered him a cup.
The cool liquid felt good on his dry throat. Mother handed him some napkins to wipe the dust from his face. What will Brother Brown think if I quit now? he wondered. I know I can’t bring home a blue ribbon, but I can still finish.
“I guess I’ll stay after all, Dad,” he mumbled. Then he crossed the field to where the softball throw was already in progress.
Jamie managed the softball throw but not well enough to be a winner. Still it was better than he had expected.
Only the standing long jump remained. Jamie was hot and unhappy. What does it matter? I’ve already lost, he thought.
Karen tugged at his shirt. “Jamie,” she cried, “look how far that boy jumped.” The boy had jumped six feet and the crowd cheered. “You can jump farther than that, Jamie. I’ve seen you do it.”
Jamie looked into Karen’s warm, trusting eyes, and tears started up in his own all over again. He knelt beside her. “Karen,” he said, “I don’t care if I win this contest or not. I don’t even care if people laugh at me. But if you think I’m a good jumper, I’ll jump as far as I can just for you, OK?”
“OK, Jamie. Do it! Do it!” Karen encouraged.
“Your turn.” Dad patted him on the back. “Go out there, Jamie, and good luck!”
Jamie ran out, feeling better now, hardly tired at all. Waiting for the jump, he placed his feet slightly apart, toes on the starting line. He bent over, like Brother Brown had taught the boys to do, and swung his arms. “Here I go,” he said to himself. One—his arms came up and back. Two—up farther now, giving him momentum. Three—Jamie hurled himself forward through the air.
He landed in a cloud of sawdust, his feet stinging. Fall forward, he reminded himself, as he dropped to his knees. He heard cheering, this time for him, and watched in amazement as the judges measured his jump.
“Six feet, eight inches. Longest jump of the day,” the judge announced. Jamie could hardly believe his eyes and ears.
Karen ran right out onto the field and hugged her big brother. “I knew you’d do it, Jamie, I knew it,” she said, beaming.
Jamie was excited about winning the jump, but he was even happier because he hadn’t disappointed Karen, who believed in him.
When the judges were ready to announce the winners, Jamie listened quietly as the ten-year-olds received their prizes. He knew he wouldn’t receive one because of the race, but he was glad about the long jump anyway. Then came the nine-year-olds. First and second places went to two boys from another town.
Finally, the announcer said, “We have a tie for third place. Paul Brady had it wrapped up, but because Jamie Roberts did so well in the long jump, he earned the same total score as Paul. Congratulations to both of you.”
Jamie’s dad pushed him to his feet. “Go on, son, that’s you.”
He didn’t know how he got to the judge’s stand, but when he did the judge hung a bronze medal around Jamie’s neck and shook his hand.
“Do you suppose Brother Brown will be disappointed that I didn’t win first place?” asked Jamie.
“I’m sure he’ll understand,” Mother answered, smiling. And Dad agreed.
Karen danced up and down. For once she was speechless with excitement.
Jamie flopped on the grass and pulled Karen down beside him. “Hey, squirt, how would you like to wear my medal?” he teased.

A friend of mine told me how she had once handled a situation that embodies the same principle. Married in a civil ceremony, Anne and Bob had set a goal to be sealed in the temple. For a time they were both active in the Church, but Bob gradually lost interest. He and his sports-minded friends looked forward to watching Sunday afternoon football on television.

Anne rose early each Sunday morning, made breakfast for her family, straightened the kitchen, and got herself and their two small children ready for church meetings. She left Bob with a kiss and a smile. In sacrament meeting, she struggled alone with the children, even though her husband had offered to care for them at home.

She said, “I knew it was critical that I set a good example for him and my children. I prayed that Bob would come around if I kept my faith in him. After church, I would pause before entering the house, clear my mind of any negative feelings, and remember how much I loved him. Sometimes the living room was messy with popcorn and cans, but I wouldn’t allow those things to interfere with our relationship.”

After asking her husband’s permission, Anne started preparing to receive her own temple endowment. At first, Bob made only small concessions to living gospel principles. Later, he resumed attending church with his family and finally joined in preparing to attend the temple. Eventually, they were sealed as a family for eternity.

Anne said, “I think he saw the difference the gospel had made in my life. He also noticed that his family was progressing. One day, he just decided to catch up.”

“My mother had taken me to an elocution teacher. Our family was very fortunate because my father had a good job and could afford to give us that kind of training. Then a wonderful opportunity came. Someone in the sixth grade was to be chosen to speak in the great Tabernacle on Temple Square for the school festival. I just knew it was going to be me.”
It wasn’t. In her disappointment, Elaine had no way of knowing that one day her voice would not only be heard in the great Tabernacle on Temple Square, but would be broadcast from that very spot to the nations of the world. But without the advantage of knowing the future, how did she handle the present?
“Well, at first I thought, ‘What good does it do to work and train and prepare? People just choose their friends.’ But I got over that. I’ve always been a true believer in the Lord, so I could go to my Heavenly Father and say, Why? Didn’t I work hard enough? What did I do wrong? She was learning at a young age to pour out her heart as she would to a loving father and expect answers to come.
Through her school and college years, Sister Cannon came to realize that being distracted by the selfish aims of position, prestige, power, and popularity may gradually ease you away from what you really want ultimately; they will lead you away from that sometimes discouraging climb towards heights never dreamed of in the beginning.
“This is what I learned: When I simply did what was at hand for me to do and did it the very best I could every day, not worrying about other things, those very experiences that were important to my preparation for other opportunities came into my life naturally.”
She also learned that personal disappointment could be cured by service to others:
“I ran for president of my high school women’s student association and lost. I felt that losing left me out of everything, and I really wanted to be in. But instead of feeling sorry for myself, I worked with one of my teachers to plan a marvelous party for the girl who beat me.
“When you lose and you’re really hurt, you can just reach out. If someone offends you or gets the honor or the award or job that you wanted, you just say to someone, ‘What can I do for you?’ And then you try to reach out to another and away from your own hurt.”

In my own family there is a story of a young woman who had the courage to start to teach doctrine when she was only a new convert with little education. And the fact that the effects of her teaching haven’t ended gives me patience to wait for the fruits of my own efforts.

Mary Bommeli was my great-grandmother. I never met her. Her granddaughter heard her tell her story and wrote it down.

Mary was born in 1830. The missionaries taught her family in Switzerland when she was 24. She was still living at home, weaving and selling cloth to help support her family on their small farm. When the family heard the doctrine of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, they knew it was true. They were baptized. Mary’s brothers were called on missions, going without purse or scrip. The rest of the family sold their possessions to go to America to gather with the Saints.

There was not enough money for all to go. Mary volunteered to stay behind because she felt she could earn enough from her weaving to support herself and save for her passage. She found her way to Berlin and to the home of a woman who hired her to weave cloth for the family’s clothing. She lived in a servant’s room and set up her loom in the living area of the home.

It was against the law then to teach the doctrine of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Berlin. But Mary could not keep the good news to herself. The woman of the house and her friends would gather around the loom to hear the Swiss girl teach. She talked about the appearance of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ to Joseph Smith, of the visitation of angels, and of the Book of Mormon. When she came to the accounts of Alma, she taught the doctrine of the Resurrection.

That caused some problems with her weaving. In those days, many children died very young. The women around the loom had lost children in death, some of them several children. When Mary taught the truth that little children were heirs of the celestial kingdom and that those women might again be with them and with the Savior and our Heavenly Father, tears rolled down the faces of the women. Mary cried too. All those tears falling got the cloth wet that Mary had woven.

Mary’s teaching created a more serious problem. Even though Mary begged the women not to talk about what she told them, they did. They shared the joyous doctrine with their friends. So one night there was a knock at the door. It was the police. They took Mary off to jail. On the way, she asked the policeman for the name of the judge she was to appear before the next morning. She asked if he had a family. She asked if he was a good father and a good husband. The policeman smiled as he described the judge as a man of the world.

At the jail, Mary asked for a pencil and some paper. She wrote a letter to the judge. She wrote about the Resurrection of Jesus Christ as described in the Book of Mormon, about the spirit world, and about how long the judge would have to think and to consider his life before facing the final judgment. She wrote that she knew he had much to repent of which would break his family’s heart and bring him great sorrow. She wrote through the night. In the morning she asked the policeman to take her letter to the judge. He did.

Later, the policeman was summoned by the judge to his office. The letter Mary had written was irrefutable evidence that she was teaching the gospel and so breaking the law. Nevertheless, it wasn’t long until the policeman came back to Mary’s cell. He told her that all charges were dismissed and that she was free to go, on the conditions she had stated in her letter. Her teaching the doctrine of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ had opened eyes and hearts enough to get her cast into jail. And her declaring the doctrine of repentance to the judge got her cast out of jail (see Theresa Snow Hill, Life and Times of Henry Eyring and Mary Bommeli [1997], 15–22).

On February 16, 1832, 187 years ago, Joseph Smith and Sidney Rigdon received the remarkable vision of the three kingdoms of glory, a central part of our doctrine and of the plan of salvation. Joseph and Sidney bore testimony of Jesus Christ, “who is the Son, whom we saw and with whom we conversed in the heavenly vision.”[1]
They heard the Savior say:
“I, the Lord, am merciful and gracious unto those who fear me, and delight to honor those who serve me in righteousness and in truth unto the end.
“Great shall be their reward and eternal shall be their glory. …
“And their wisdom shall be great, and their understanding reach to heaven. …
“For by my Spirit will I enlighten them.”[2]
Not long after that glorious vision, in March 1832, a group of men prepared and perpetrated a cruel and most brutal attack on Joseph Smith and Sidney Rigdon. In the middle of the night, they attacked the Prophet and Sidney in their homes. Joseph was dragged out of the house and into a meadow, beat up, and threatened with a knife. The men tried to pour liquid tar into his mouth. When that was not successful, they ripped off his clothes and poured the tar all over his hair and his beaten body, “covered him with feathers, dumped him to the cold ground, and left the scene.”
After his attackers left, Joseph tore the tar from his lips. He found Sidney not far from him, lying on the ground, and wasn’t sure if Sidney was dead or alive.
When Joseph and Sidney managed to get back home, family and friends tended to them all night. The next morning, Joseph got dressed and preached a sermon from the doorstep of the home where he was staying. In the aftermath of this event, one of Joseph and Emma’s twins died.[3] It was the fourth child he and Emma lost, born during the first four years of their marriage.
That same month, in March 1832, Joseph received several important revelations from the Lord. Among the counsel the Lord gave to Joseph was this profound statement: “Be of good cheer, for I will lead you along.”[4]

Sometime back a mother took her son, Freddie, to the LDS hospital for an operation. The boy was operated on and all went well. That evening at 7:00 p.m., Freddie’s mother went to the head nurse and said, “I would like to leave now, and I would like you to check on Freddie every half hour.”

The nurse said, “Well, we will check on him regularly, but we don’t have time to check on him every half hour.”

The mother said, “If you will not check on him every half hour, then I will not leave. I will stay here all night.”

The nurse said, “You don’t need to do that; I personally will check on him every half hour.”

So the mother left and went home. The hospital has a central station and two long wings. Freddie was in the last room. At 7:30 p.m. the nurse made her way down the long hallway and put her head in the door and said, “Freddie, is everything all right?”

He responded, “Yes, everything is fine.”

She walked down the hall and it was almost 8:00. She turned around and went back to Freddie’s room and said, “Freddie, are you all right?”

He said, “I’m doing okay.”

She made the long trip back to her central station. She did this at 8:30, 9:00, 9:30, and 10:00. Finally she thought, “I am not getting any work done. I’ve got to change systems of checking on Freddie.”

She decided to use the intercom. She pushed the button and said, “Freddie, are you all right?” Not a sound.

“Freddie, are you okay?” Nothing. “Freddie, are you all right—speak to me!”

And a very timid voice said, “Yes, wall, what do you want?”

I think as we talk about unemployment—and Bishop Peterson discussed it last time and I this morning—we do not think we’re talking to the wall; but repetition is a good teacher.

Most of her neighbors belong to other churches, but that doesn’t stop Julianne from being their friend. She does all she can to make certain that she doesn’t have conflicts with her neighbors, like some of the early Saints did. One of her best friends is a sixty-year-old widow named Mrs. Troyer. Julianne loves to work in the garden or go for walks with her. They’ve been great friends for two or three years. “We talk about all kinds of stuff on our walks. She’s one of the nicest people I know,” said Julianne.

Week one: Youth of the Hartford First Ward, Hartford Connecticut Stake, interviewed residents of the Windsor Hall Rest Home for interesting information about their lives.
Week two: The youth worked together at the ward meetinghouse to compile a personal history for each individual they interviewed. Dates, photographs, and a personal thank-you note were included.
Week three: Those involved went back to the rest home, where histories and hugs were presented.
Weeks four, five, six, etc.: The youth made spontaneous return visits to the home to chat with the residents they had befriended. And the happiness sparked by the project extended months into the future.