Gospel Story Finder

The first time Aries and Lowenna saw each other was at a young single adult dance. It was just a glance; neither spoke. Six months later, Aries and a couple of his friends traveled 120 miles (190 km) to a young single adult housewarming activity at Lowenna’s student house. He says, “I guess it was the normal thing to do where the young single adults are so far spread.”

They both recognized each other from the dance, and Aries wasted no time inviting Lowenna and her sister to go wakeboarding with him. Lowenna and her sister didn’t make it because the distance to pick them up and return would have been too difficult for Aries, but they continued to see each other a couple of times a month at dances and activities. They grew to be good friends. As their feelings became stronger, they would regularly call and talk on the phone.

As Lowenna says, “Our feelings were stronger than we had ever experienced with past boyfriends or girlfriends. We both wanted to be the best that we possibly could for each other.”

Aries planned to propose and secretly bought a ring and overcame the daunting task of asking her dad’s permission. The couple planned to walk to a beautiful waterfall in a place where Aries spent a lot of his childhood. As Aries knelt to rummage in his backpack for the ring, Lowenna, thinking he wanted to take everything slower, said, “Is there anything you would like to change in our relationship?”

Aries replied, “Yes, there is actually. I would like to change quite a lot.” He pulled out a box with a ring inside.

The couple immediately started making plans. They were married 10 weeks later in the Preston England Temple, with Lowenna’s grandfather performing the temple sealing.

Lowenna says, “The Spirit was really strong through the day and served as an excellent introduction to the gospel to all our nonmember family and friends. We felt that there was nothing more important in this life than our eternal marriage. We are so grateful for the strength that we were to each other during our courtship, which enabled us to enter worthily into our Father’s house to make the sacred covenants that guide us in our married life today.”

I hate how nervous I get at piano recitals. I practiced hard, but …
Cassie’s a lot younger than I am, but she’s so much better. And I’m next after her. Yikes!
Later, at home.
I guess I did OK. But I’ll never be as good as Cassie. Maybe my lessons are just a waste of money.
Cassie does have a special gift. Someday she might be better than your teacher. But—
Not everything is a competition. I know you like making music. And we enjoy it too. When you were playing, your dad’s head was back and his eyes were closed.
Yeah, he does that in church sometimes too.
Well, he was smiling. And tapping his fingers. He was enjoying it, and so was I.
Just do your best, and you’ll enjoy your gift too.

Michelle sat outside the bishop’s office trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. Would this interview be like a test? What if she got the answers wrong? Could she still get a temple recommend in time for her first trip to do baptisms for the dead?
“Is everything all right, honey?” Mom asked.
Michelle tried to smile. “Yes. I’m just nervous. What if I don’t know all the answers? What if I forget one of the Articles of Faith or something?”
Dad reached over and patted her hand. “It isn’t a quiz, sweetie. Just be yourself and answer honestly. You have nothing to worry about.”
But she did worry! Today was her 12th birthday, and she wanted to do baptisms for the dead the very next day. She’d been planning it for months. She was even going to wait to have her birthday party until her family got home from the temple. If she messed up in the interview and missed doing baptisms, she’d be so disappointed.
She kept running through the Articles of Faith in her mind just in case.
Soon the door opened. The bishop leaned out of his office and smiled. “Hello, Michelle. Come on in!”
Michelle gulped and walked inside his office.
The bishop started by asking Michelle about her birthday plans. That wasn’t so scary to talk about. Then they talked about her Primary class for a little while.
“Are you excited to go into Young Women?” he asked.
“Oh, yes!” Michelle answered. They talked for several minutes about why she was looking forward to becoming a Beehive.
Then the bishop asked Michelle about her testimony and if she kept the commandments. Those questions were easy to answer. She knew the Church was true. She tried to live the gospel. Michelle started feeling less worried.
And then, before she knew it, the interview was over. The bishop filled out the recommend and handed it to Michelle. She blinked at the little paper she held in her hand. She had her very own temple recommend!
The bishop smiled. “Have a happy birthday and a wonderful time at the temple.”
Michelle could hardly wait!
For the rest of the day, Michelle couldn’t think about anything but the temple. All her life she’d been learning about the temple. And tomorrow she was going inside for real.
Finally the big day arrived. Later that night there’d be a party with presents and cake. Grandma and Grandpa would be there too. But none of that was on her mind as she put on her best church clothes. She was going to the temple. Her birthday wish was coming true.
“All ready, Michelle?” Mom asked.
Michelle nodded. Boy, was she ready!
And yet, as soon as Dad pulled the car out of the driveway, Michelle started feeling jittery all over again. Would she be able to stay quiet inside the temple? She knew the temple was a sacred place, and she wanted to be reverent. But sometimes she got so excited about things that she forgot to whisper. Would this be one of those times?
But as soon as they stepped inside the temple, Michelle’s nervousness completely disappeared. She felt more peaceful and calm than she ever had before. She could feel this was a special place. Michelle was inside the temple with Mom and Dad.
This really was the best way to celebrate her birthday.

Since President Thomas S. Monson announced the change in age for missionary service, youth all over the Church have eagerly responded not only to the invitation to serve but also to the invitation to prepare to serve. And one way to prepare is to learn more about what’s in store when you become a full-time missionary.
Some youth in Norway did exactly that during a day-long “Missionary Experience” hosted by the Fredrikstad Ward of the Oslo Norway Stake.
The youth gathered at the meetinghouse in a room that represented a missionary training center. “We received an assignment to learn about a country,” says Jakob R. of the Moss Ward. “It gave us a feeling for what it must be like to receive a mission call and know that you could be called to a place that’s different from what you are used to.”
“Then we went next door to meet a returned missionary who was playing the role of a mission president,” says Simon W. of the Oslo Ward. The returned missionary and other returned missionaries talked about what to expect while serving a mission. “I thought it was really neat to learn from returned missionaries what to expect during a full-time mission,” Simon says. Participants also received a name badge, were assigned a companion, and were instructed to remain with their companion at all times.
Workshops taught the youth about developing spiritually but also about managing temporal needs such as doing laundry, following a budget, and staying in good physical condition.
“I particularly enjoyed the workshop about how to start gospel conversations,” says Inger Sofie J. of the Oslo Ward. “That’s something I can start doing right now.”
“I enjoyed discussing how to use Preach My Gospel,” says Karl Frederik O. of the Fredrikstad Ward. “I had always thought that missionaries had their own list of scriptures to learn, but I found out that what I’m already doing in seminary will help me as a missionary and so will what I’m already studying in Preach My Gospel.”
Many young men said that one of the most memorable workshops included hands-on experience with ironing a white shirt. “It reminded me that there are a lot of practical skills I can work on to get ready for a full-time mission,” says Jakob.
“I learned that there is a lot I can be doing right now to join with the full-time missionaries serving here so that we are all part of the same team,” says Sarah R. of the Sandvika Ward. “Members are missionaries too.”
As a reminder that missionaries serve all over the world, refreshments featured recipes from a variety of nations. “That reminded me that I should try new foods now so that I’m used to trying things I don’t eat all the time. That will help me to adjust more quickly if I am called to a place where they eat things I’m not used to,” says Simon.
“At the end of the day, after we heard the testimonies of two of the youth and two newly returned missionaries, we sang the hymn ‘Called to Serve,’” says Liss Andrea O. of the Fredrikstad Ward. “I felt that if I keep singing this hymn all the time, I will have a constant reminder that when we are missionaries, we are serving Heavenly Father and He will bless us.”
By the end of the day, the youth in the stake understood that not only are they preparing for a full-time missionary experience but that they can have missionary experiences right now and through the rest of their lives.

My thoughts go back to many years ago when I was working with a young woman who had been hurt badly by a member of her family whom she loved and trusted. The type of hurt she received manifested itself in her with emotional instability. She struggled with interpersonal relationships and had a lot of feelings of self-doubt. As we talked about her feelings for this family member it became apparent to both of us that she had not been able to forgive this person for what they had done. This young woman was a person of great talent and ability. Almost anything she put her mind to she seemed to succeed at. However, since the bitterness and anger had settled into her heart, there were few things that she was doing up to her capability. Almost all aspects of her life were on a downward spiral. She worked very hard trying to forgive this family member for the hurt that she felt. It was not an easy or a fast process, but it was one that when she was successful with, it produced a tremendous feeling of freedom and peace. The family member that had harmed her initially was repentant and the beginnings of a new relationship occurred.

When I discussed this concept with one of my sisters who had been a student here in the 1960s, she mentioned that she had a roommate at BYU named Carolyn who had had a personal goal to make a new friend in each of her classes. At the beginning of the semester, Carolyn would survey each classroom and choose someone she could make her friend. During the remainder of the term, Carolyn would take the time to become acquainted and get together. Her classmate would eventually become part of her circle of friends. I wonder whether any of those befriended by Carolyn during those years would today confess that she was one of the few friends they had during college.

My husband, Jerry, had been in poor health for several years when he became seminary principal for the wards that met in our meetinghouse. I don’t think anyone knew how difficult it was for him to get up early every morning—especially during the dark, cold winter months—and go to our building. Sometime later, he passed away.
Several years after Jerry’s passing, I was surprised to receive a touching letter from a young woman who had moved away years earlier. She had tucked it into her wedding announcement. The letter read:
“I absolutely adored your husband and was so sad to hear he had passed away. He was the best seminary principal we ever had. Every morning he would wait in between the doors and open them as he wished everyone a good morning. After class, he would open the door again and say, ‘Have a good day at school!’
“I always made sure to say thank you and occasionally tell him how grateful we were to have him. I felt safer with him there.
“He was always so humble, and his kindness was recognized by all. I think my attendance was better because I didn’t want Brother Bergevin waiting in the cold, thinking I was on my way or I was late. He was an incredible man and he will always be remembered.”
I’m sure that Jerry had no idea anyone would still think of him so many years later. Yet this thoughtful young woman still did, and she was kind enough to send me this sweet letter, which I was grateful to receive.

Although I was baptized as an infant in one church and attended another on and off during my childhood, religion was never a huge part of my life. As I grew older, my family moved a lot, and we stopped attending worship services. I believed in God, but I did not think about Him or religion very often.
That all changed in 2006, when I was 14. My uncle Billy died; he was only in his mid-30s. His premature death made me realize how much I loved him and caused me to start asking questions internally. Where did he go when he died? Did he continue to live and have a future? What would become of his children and other family members left behind? What did his life mean? What did my life mean?
These thoughts ran through my mind for the next several months. One evening in September 2007, my mother, my three younger siblings, and I were leaving a deli in my hometown of Haverhill, Massachusetts, USA, and stopped to sit on a bench. Two young men in black suits, white shirts, and ties approached us. One of them said, “I know it may seem a little bit awkward to talk to two people you don’t know, but could we share a message with you?”
We agreed. I knew they were going to talk to us about religion, and I was impressed that they didn’t just thrust a card or pamphlet at us and walk off. Rather, these young men genuinely seemed interested in us and excited about their message. At the conclusion of their message, they asked if they could visit our family. My mother agreed and set up a time, so I have her to thank for what became a great change for good in my life.
We started learning the gospel. After a while Mom became busy with different things and didn’t continue to meet with the missionaries, but I did.
I connected easily with Elder Kelsey and Elder Hancock. Perhaps part of the reason was that they weren’t that much older than I was. I felt great love from them and for them. Soon I felt that same love from ward members and from other youth in my stake.
The missionaries taught me the plan of salvation, which answered the questions I had about my uncle and about my own purpose in life. The elders also introduced me to the Book of Mormon. I remember reading in Alma 32 about the seed of faith developing and tasting good (see verse 28). That description was exactly how the Book of Mormon seemed to me. What I was reading and what the missionaries were teaching me rang true, felt right, and tasted good.
My mom teased me about what she called my “hermit crab stage” because I would retreat to my bedroom and spend several hours reading the Book of Mormon. Although I didn’t recognize my feelings as the Holy Ghost at that time, I felt that this path was right.
When the missionaries asked me to be baptized, they encouraged me to pray about the decision. When I prayed to know if joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was what I was supposed to do, I received a very direct answer, to the point that it shocked me. The direction was clear: go forward with baptism.
I remember vividly the day I was baptized—December 15, 2007. As I stood in the cold water with Elder Kelsey and he raised his hand to the square, the Spirit just filled me up; it seemed to take over my whole frame. I could say that I was also grinning from ear to ear, but that description doesn’t even come close to describing what I felt.
After my baptism I continued to feel the Spirit. I felt sanctified. I knew that my sins had been remitted. I felt the approval of Heavenly Father that this was, indeed, the path I was supposed to take.
Occasionally, when little doubts pop up, I go back to that experience and remember how I felt that day. Remembering what I felt then helps me dispel any doubt I may encounter.
Even though we don’t reenter the waters of baptism to have those powerful feelings again, we can remember that feeling when we renew our covenants through repentance and the sacrament. Each time I repent, I can find that feeling again—one of being cleansed and of being loved.
Feeling that love helps me identify with what Joseph Smith taught: “A man filled with the love of God, is not content with blessing his family alone, but ranges through the whole world, anxious to bless the whole human race.”1 Knowing the worth of a soul helps me be excited about opportunities to go teaching with the missionaries in my area. I also look forward to the day when I can serve a full-time mission and share how happy the gospel of Jesus Christ has made me.

Almost as soon as the caravan stopped at the end of the forest road, the doors popped open and Scouts, dads, and a lot of backpacking equipment and fluorescent-orange life jackets came tumbling out of the cars and trucks. In no time at all the Scouts were lined up, drawing their allotment of food to carry, and stuffing it into their packs. Everyone seemed to know his duty and how to perform it. The few dads who were along to help were impressed with the organization. In fact, the only person not surprised by all this super efficiency performed by 12- and 13-year-old boys was their Scoutmaster, Nob Wimmer.
For Brother Wimmer this trip with the American Fork Utah 14th Ward Scouts was only one of hundreds of Scouting outings he has participated in during his 25 years of Scouting experience.
When asked how he got 12- and 13-year-old boys to perform much beyond their years, he commented on his philosophy:
“The age of the boys isn’t that critical. With cooperation you’d be surprised what even young boys can accomplish. There are three elements that do seem to make for a great trip. First, you need to plan well in advance. Second, a trip needs to require effort from everyone. Preferably the work starts a long time before the trip. If it does, the people involved get more excited about the actual event, they learn more, and they improve their teamwork. Then when we have taken care of all the variables that we can control, the third element of a great trip often comes into play. This is the element of surprise—the unexpected or the unusual happening that really makes the event stay alive in people’s minds long after the trip is over.”
To the 35 Scouts and adults who went, the trip was a success. They had been planning for months; each of them knew his duties and how to carry them out. They had also been working very hard to get ready. They learned how to handle canoes. They conditioned themselves to their backpacks, and many of the Scouts invested extra hours in learning to tie fishing flies. They worked one evening a week with Brother Wimmer learning how to do it, and then they tied quantities of flies in anticipation of the trip. In addition, every meal of the five-day camp was carefully planned in advance. Then, a few days before the trip, the food was bought and repacked so it would be easier to carry. They used off-the-shelf grocery items rather than the more expensive dehydrated backpacking foods. They even made their own oven-dried jerky to save on weight and expense.
Once the gear was out of the vehicles and strapped on backs, everyone started up the trail together. The few miles to the lake seemed more like a dozen since each person not only had to carry his own personal gear but also had to take a turn helping to carry one of the canoes.
At the lake, supplies and Scouts were ferried across the water to a lovely campsite. Scouts built simple, plastic-covered shelters under the pines, and had camp completely set up and organized in time to take in an evening’s fishing.
It was easy to get to sleep that first night. David Miller, however, woke up in the middle of the night with a creepy feeling that he wasn’t alone in his bag.
“I thought I felt something in my bag. I lay still for a while, and pretty soon whatever it was began running down my back. I grabbed it between the folds of my sleeping bag, got out of the bag, and woke my father. He helped me brush it out. It was a little squirrel, and it seemed as glad to be out of the bag as I was.”
The next morning Bishop Bean found fresh moose tracks around his sleeping bag, and there were deer tracks all through camp. After that everyone kept watch for the abundant wildlife in the area. Every morning and evening they were able to watch moose saunter down to the lake for a drink and a swim.
“The wildlife provided the unusual and the unexpected on this trip,” said Brother Wimmer. “Each day most of the boys got to see deer and moose in their natural setting. The animals didn’t even seem frightened of us. We didn’t bother them, and they seemed content to let us share their lake for a few days.”
Everyone caught some fish, and even one boy who had been cool on the trip in the first place had a terrific time. He told the leaders when they were planning the trip, “I don’t want to go up in the woods somewhere and play cowboys and Indians.”
““He sure got interested when the fish started biting,” said Bishop Bean. Like the rest of the boys, he had set goals he wanted to accomplish on this trip. Each boy became more proficient at some skill, and they were all better trained to operate as a group than ever before.”
During lunch one day one of the adults was swatting at some of the huge horseflies that seemed to be everywhere. “These horseflies are terrible,” he said.
Brother Wimmer piped up, “Don’t say that! Nothing up here is terrible!”
“Okay, I’ll just say the horseflies are mildly aggravating.”
“Fine,” said Brother Wimmer with a smile, and then let silence complete the sermon. It was a sermon that was relived time and again as the boys later shared the memories of this experience at troop meetings and a special ward banquet in their honor.

We live in a very materialistic world. The love of money and the trinkets it can buy seem to occupy the thoughts and efforts of many. Too many chase the “almighty dollar” at the expense of all the better things that money cannot buy.

Recently I interviewed a priesthood leader whose tithing in the past year was a six-figure amount. He owned many businesses, and everything he touched seemed to turn a profit. Nevertheless, he was one of the saddest men I have ever met. At the conclusion of our conversation, he wept and said, “I would give up all that I possess for a little love and harmony at home.” I returned home feeling that I was indeed a very rich man.

Q: Experience has a lot to do with that also, doesn’t it?
Freed: Yes, that’s a good point. At one point in my career I said to myself, “Well, I’ve lost plenty of matches by underhitting the ball; from now on, when the big point comes up, I’m going to lose it by overhitting. I’m really going to sock the ball.” So I started losing them by socking the ball! But I really did better in the long run by hitting hard. I lost some good points when I did that, but it loosened me up, and later I won a lot more because I was a little more cool.

Inclusion and exclusion are common themes when you speak to families with food allergies. Cynthia’s nine-year-old son, who is allergic to peanuts and tree nuts, was anticipating attending a day camp. However, on the morning of the camp, a call came from a leader asking him not to attend. They could not accommodate his allergies.

“I hung up with her and sobbed,” Cynthia recalls, “the sorrowful, bottom-of-my-heart tears for my little guy who was excluded again.”

Katie Edna Steed, disability specialist manager for the Church, notes: “The Savior would leave the 99 and seek after the one. We need to remember that example—to see the one and be aware of the one.”

There is much that members with food allergies and their ward families can do to show love and make church participation safe and inclusive.

What can families with food allergies do?
Families with allergies can explain their needs to leaders and teachers—and communicate again as leaders and teachers change. They can offer to supply safe food and help plan menus and activities. They can provide simple, life-saving training and emergency plans. They will be understanding when members express fear or reservations, but they will patiently educate members and work together to find safe and inclusive options. They should ask for reasonable accommodations that the ward can make and sustain.

What can ward members do?
Ward members can seek to understand individual situations. Ward members should defer to parental instruction about giving food to a child. If food is necessary for an activity or lesson, teachers and leaders can ask individuals and parents if the food will be safe. Ward members can invite individuals and parents to participate and problem solve as circumstances require.

Suzanne has several food allergies. She has been particularly touched by the sensitivity of the priests in her ward as they prepare the sacrament. “I am so humbled by the young men who have made it safe for me to take the sacrament,” she says.

One Sunday, the sacrament was not passed to her. The priests preparing it had noticed that her bread had been cross contaminated by the other bread on the table.

“They found me after sacrament meeting, explained what happened, and told me they had received special permission from the bishop to administer the sacrament to me in a classroom,” Suzanne says. “I cried as they blessed and passed the sacrament in that small room. I could feel the Savior’s love so strongly and His knowledge of how much I had struggled with this challenge.”

“Showing willingness to make a safe environment at church for people with severe allergies is also showing a willingness to bear one another’s burdens,” says Suzanne.

Francesca’s daughter is now in Young Women. Her Young Women president felt prompted to help this family in their burden. “I felt like we needed to do what it took to make sure she was not forced to choose between her safety and her worship,” she said. “I prayed about how we needed to face this situation and felt firmly that we needed to embrace this family and make sure they were fully included.”

Youth leaders accepted the challenge to plan an overnight youth conference that Francesca’s daughter could safely attend. Francesca helped plan the menu and shop for food. The young men power washed the griddles before cooking on them.

“It was wonderful!” says Francesca. “I cried and felt God’s love through their kind, inclusive actions. So did my daughter.”

Tanner’s family has felt many miracles, large and small, since losing their son. They hope increased awareness of food allergies is one of them.

“It’s not that these kids with allergies are irresponsible. It’s not that they aren’t paying attention. But they are kids,” says Tanner’s father, Terry. “It just takes one second of letting your guard down.”

But ministering can help them keep their guard up. “Ministering, by definition, means attending to the needs of others,” says Dr. Olson. “Everything about the Church is based on the needs of the one and making sure their spiritual and physical needs are being met.”

Sharon Eubank, First Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency, taught: “Christ tenderly told the Nephites, ‘I have commanded that none of you should go away.’ … It is an unwavering requirement of Christian disciples and Latter-day Saints to show true love to one another.”12

For Francesca, after a personal struggle to understand why her child faced the challenge of a food allergy, she came to realize, “Sometimes God heals someone with a disability to show forth His glorious works, and sometimes He allows someone to keep their disability because He wants His works to be made manifest in how others treat that person. God gives us all opportunities to learn to be kind and learn to be like Him by allowing us to be a miracle for someone in their suffering.”

Seventeen-year-old Charlee Hawkins loved life. A member of the Cullumber Ward, Gilbert Arizona Stake, she could always find something positive in the most difficult situations. Even when she faced her life’s hardest challenge of being diagnosed with cancer, Charlee kept smiling and found things to laugh about.
Charlee’s battle began at age 15, when a small bump appeared on her left index finger. She thought it was simply a result of practicing her golf swing as she prepared to play on the girls’ golf team at Gilbert High School.
When she had the bump removed, test results showed that Charlee had a very rare and very aggressive form of cancer, known as epithelioid sarcoma. The only effective treatment was surgery. Charlee’s finger was quickly removed.
Charlee handled the situation with humor instead of despair. She nicknamed herself “Nine” and never hid the fact that one finger was missing.
Five months later, during a routine test, doctors discovered spots in her lungs—the cancer had spread. They explained that chemotherapy wasn’t usually successful with this type of cancer and that it was impossible to remove the tumors. Charlee decided to give chemotherapy a try anyway.
The treatment made her lose her hair, but she refused to wear a wig and didn’t like hats. She told others that she might be the only “nine-fingered, bald-headed” girl they’d ever meet.
In January 2004 she celebrated what she called her “Handiversary.” It had been one year since her finger was amputated. She and her friends wore matching “Nine” T-shirts. She made hand-shaped sugar cookies with pink frosting and one finger missing.
Charlee attended two weeks of her senior year in the fall of 2004 but was too sick to continue. She had her heart set on graduating from high school, so she got her class assignments by e-mail and continued to work toward her diploma.
Charlee’s health progressively declined. The family set up a Christmas tree in her bedroom and celebrated Christmas around her bedside. Her Young Women class often came to visit her. Despite her trials, her friends and family never heard her complain.
By January 2005, Charlee’s strength was nearly gone. Sister Hawkins recalls a conversation she had with her daughter when Charlee was in excruciating pain. Charlee said, “I’m ready to go.” Her mother says she felt the Spirit guiding her as she explained to her daughter that Heavenly Father has a moment for each of us and that her moment was near. Then she felt the Spirit fill her daughter and ease her pain. Charlee said, “I’m ready to go home.”
“When she added the word ‘home,’ I knew that she knew that this place is only temporary,” says Sister Hawkins. “The veil must have been so thin that she felt safe because she knew that place was her home. It brought me such comfort and peace. I knew then that I had to let her go.”
The next day at school, classmates celebrated Charlee’s second “Handiversary” without her. They lined up for a photo with a sign saying, “We love you, Nine.” Charlee’s family provided the four-fingered cookies.
Four days later, on January 25, an assistant principal from Charlee’s school called to check on her. When she learned that Charlee wasn’t doing well, she asked if the administration could come and present Charlee’s diploma to her that afternoon. At 2:00 p.m., Charlee received recognition for what she had worked so hard to achieve.
Less than 45 minutes after her private graduation ceremony, Charlee died. Her life had touched so many. More than 1,500 people attended her funeral.
“She had an amazing attitude, a spirit that just radiated, and a great sense of humor,” says her mother. “That carried her, and that carried us.”
Charlee’s influence is still being felt. The family continues to hear from those who say her example encourages them to be better and to improve their lives. Some of her friends who are serving missions are using their experiences with Charlee to help teach the plan of salvation to others.
“She lived every day to the fullest,” says her mother. “I believe she did what she was supposed to do. She knew how to live, and she knew how to die.”

I came to understand more fully the relationship between the “priesthood” rocket and the “opportunity to benefit from Christ’s atoning power” payload several years ago. During a weekend, I had two assignments. One was to create the first stake in a country, and the other was to interview a young man and, if all was in order, restore his priesthood and temple blessings. This 30-year-old man had joined the Church in his late teens. He served an honorable mission. But when he returned home, he lost his way, and he lost his membership in the Church. After some years, “he came to himself,” and with the help of loving priesthood leaders and kind members, he repented and was readmitted by baptism into the Church.

Later, he applied to have his priesthood and temple blessings restored. We set an appointment for Saturday at 10:00 a.m. at the meetinghouse. When I arrived for the earlier interviews, he was already there. He was so anxious to have the priesthood once again, he just could not wait.

During our interview, I showed him the letter explaining that President Thomas S. Monson had personally reviewed his application and authorized the interview. This otherwise stoic young man wept. I then told him that the date of our interview would have no official meaning in his life. He looked puzzled. I informed him that after I restored his blessings, his membership record would show only his original baptism, confirmation, priesthood ordination, and endowment dates. He choked up again.

I asked him to read from the Doctrine and Covenants:
“Behold, he who has repented of his sins, the same is forgiven, and I, the Lord, remember them no more.
“By this ye may know if a man repenteth of his sins—behold, he will confess them and forsake them.”

Tears filled his eyes a third time. Then I placed my hands on his head, and in the name of Jesus Christ and by the authority of the Melchizedek Priesthood, and with the authorization of the President of the Church, I restored his priesthood and temple blessings.

The joy that came over us was profound. He knew he was once again authorized to hold and exercise the priesthood of God. He knew that his temple blessings were again fully operative. He had a bounce in his step and a radiant light about him. I was so proud of him, and I sensed how proud Heavenly Father was of him too.

Thereafter, the stake was organized. The meetings were well attended by enthusiastic, faithful Saints, and a wonderful stake presidency was sustained. However, for me, the historic occasion of organizing this first stake in a country was overshadowed by the joy I felt in restoring the blessings to this young man.

As I reflected upon this subject, a story that I had recently heard by an unknown author came to my mind.
Many years ago in the foggy city of London a young man supported his widowed mother and five brothers and sisters by going to the train station at night and meeting people and then guiding them to their various destinations with his lantern through the narrow, foggy streets. On one occasion the young man was approached by a stranger who asked to be taken to a particular area of the city. It was extremely foggy and the cobblestone streets were dangerously slippery. The boy agreed to the proposition, even though it meant placing his own life in jeopardy. The two of them started out, the boy, lantern in hand, leading the gentleman. After hours of walking they arrived at their destination. Once there the gentleman gave the young man the promised reward. The lad graciously accepted his earnings and walked briskly back to the station. He no sooner arrived at the station than several people came forward out of the fog, each giving the young man a like amount of money. At first the boy refused to accept the money because he felt he had not earned it. Finally one of the strangers explained: “We were all lost in this fog and had no idea where we were. Then we saw your lantern and followed your light in the distance. We only wish to repay you for guiding us to safety. Had we not followed you, we would still be lost out there in the fog.”

illustration by Thomas Girard
Junior high was not an easy experience, and I wasn’t expecting my first day of high school to be any better. All through junior high I was painfully shy. Terribly, awfully shy. I didn’t feel comfortable talking to new people, because I didn’t feel confident in who I was. In between classes I mostly kept to myself, walking quickly to and from my locker with my head down, trying to look busy. Most of my weekends were spent by myself, either reading books, doing homework, or re-watching beloved TV shows.
I wanted my experience that year to be different, but I wasn’t sure how it was going to be. As I went to my first class, I looked around at the other students and felt a surge of terror. “I don’t want to talk to any of these people,” I thought. I didn’t want to go through painful introductions and awkward silences. So instead I spent the hour staring firmly at my desk, not looking at or talking to anybody.
By the time homeroom came along, I was convinced that my freshman year was going to be just as lonely as junior high. Fighting back tears, I silently slid into my seat, once again determined not to look away from my desk.
“Hello,” said a voice beside me. “My name is Taylor. What’s yours?” I looked up and saw a nervous-but-sincere-looking girl sitting across from me.
“Oh,” I said, “hello. My name is Rachel.”
After that Taylor mentioned that she had just moved into the area a couple weeks ago. She knew even fewer people than I did, and she was hoping to make new friends. Then we talked about the normal things—school, classes, and our hopes for high school. Our conversation was a little awkward, but overall, talking to Taylor was really nice. The next day in homeroom when I ran into her again, she invited me to sit by her and we talked more. The more I saw her and the more she casually said hello to me, the more comfortable I felt responding back. In the following weeks, Taylor became the one person I felt OK stopping to talk with between classes.
A few months later, I was feeling particularly down. I didn’t feel confident in myself and found it hard to believe that anyone would want to be friends with me. This feeling lasted day after day, until one evening, after a week or so of this, my phone started to ring. I answered it.
“Hey,” said the other person on the line. “This is Taylor. How’s it going, Rachel? I just wanted to call and say hi.”
Taylor and I talked for a while, and this time our conversation was a lot smoother. I really enjoyed talking with her—she showed genuine interest in getting to know me, and that helped me feel like I was worth being friends with. Later when our conversation ended, I began to realize something important. I felt as if Heavenly Father was trying to help me realize that I could be happy about who I am and what He has given me. Taylor’s phone call and her continual invitations over time helped me realize that who I am is great and that I can make feel comfortable being my reserved self.
After that phone call, Taylor and I started spending a lot of time together as friends. She accepted me as I was, and we had many great adventures in high school.
I knew Taylor was a true friend because she was friendly in a way that was not superficial. She was genuinely interested in getting to know me and was consistent in her interest. When it comes to making friends with others, behaving as Christ would—with charity, understanding, and sincerity—makes all the difference. Taylor did that for me through her warm attitude and honest interest in me as a person.
I’m still a shy person, but now I know that even shy people like me can have great friends.

I was nervous, but I remembered a story about President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) when he received a mission call to England. He was preparing to leave in the midst of economic pressures and concerns that troubled him. Just before he left, his father handed him a card with five written words: “Be not afraid, only believe” (Mark 5:36). I also remembered the words of my bishop: “Have faith. God will provide.” These words gave me courage and strength to move forward.

Five years after I was baptized, while I was studying in the Church’s high school, Benemérito de las Américas, the construction of the first temple in Mexico was announced. At school we were invited to participate in an activity that consisted of making partitions for the temple.
At first, I thought it would just be an opportunity to have fun with my friends. After several hours of hard work and with some blisters on my hand, I realized that although it had not been so much fun, I felt joy in my heart for having done my small part in the construction.

I grew up in a city near Seattle, Washington, and was not a member of the Church. When I was 11, I joined a local ballroom dance team that several of my friends were on. The team had started as a youth activity for Latter-day Saints, but it was so popular the instructors kept it going. I didn’t know much about the Church, but the instructors and other youth were so welcoming that I didn’t care.
My friends invited me to Mutual activities and weekend Church dances. I began to notice something interesting about them: they were always smiling. They were positive, encouraging, and enthusiastic about any opportunity that arose. They had joy that I had never felt.
I wanted to know what made them so happy. During six years of careful observation I learned some interesting things. My friends jumped at the opportunity to help and serve those around them. They never judged their peers for the way they looked, talked, or acted—they accepted everyone. My friends believed in speaking cleanly, acting appropriately, and dressing modestly. They valued their parents and siblings as the most important people in their lives. And most important, my friends had firm testimonies of Jesus Christ that strengthened them in difficult times.
After high school graduation, I said good-bye to these friends and started college in New York City. It took only two weeks for me to desperately miss what I now know was the Spirit I felt at Church activities and dance classes with my friends. I looked up the closest ward on LDS.org and then walked to the meetinghouse the following Sunday. I met the missionaries and began learning from them.
When the missionaries taught me about Joseph Smith, I knew instantly through the Spirit that his experience was true. Then, when they explained Jesus Christ’s sacrifice and how He atoned for us, my heart was filled with gratitude for my Savior and His love for me. Six weeks later, I was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church.
I owe my introduction to the Church to my friends who were so kind and welcoming. They didn’t allow their standards to slip when pressure was strong or their decisions were unpopular. Their testimonies were firm and unwavering. They held true to their faith and showed me what it meant to truly live the gospel of Jesus Christ.
I know the importance of always living my standards. Both members and nonmembers need strong examples of friends who refuse to lower their standards. Even when I think no one is paying attention, I will try to never waver. You never know who is looking at your example.

Soon after our daughter’s birth, my husband’s job prevented him from attending church most Sundays. With a new baby, five young sons, and my husband no longer available to help me, I was having a difficult time getting to church.
Many Sundays we arrived late, and sometimes we didn’t get there until sacrament meeting was over and Primary and Sunday School had begun. I spent most of my time walking the halls with my fussy and tired baby.
After several weeks, I was exhausted. We were going to church more out of habit than for anything else. I began to ask myself, Why even bother? It seemed that the only results I was getting were stiff muscles and a headache.
I began to pray for guidance. I asked my Father in Heaven why I should go to church when it was so difficult. I knew attending church was right, but I needed to know why it was important for me personally. When I didn’t receive an answer right away, I continued to ask.
When Easter Sunday came, I again spent the time during church walking the halls of our meetinghouse with my baby and whispering a prayer in my heart: Why should I bother to come? Why is it important for me to continue this struggle?
During Primary class time, I walked past the classrooms and looked inside. Every Primary class was having a lesson about the Savior’s death and Resurrection. I was amazed at the reverence and awe I saw in the children’s faces. Every one of them, mine included, was caught up in the story of our Savior’s greatest gift to us.
Suddenly it was clear why I needed to continue in my struggle to bring my children to church. Maybe I wasn’t getting as much as I wanted from my attendance, but my children were benefiting from their attendance more than I had imagined.
Occasionally we still have a difficult time getting to church. But when we do, I stop and remember the expressions I saw on my children’s faces that Easter morning. I know church is where we belong, and I often thank the Lord for showing me why.