Gospel Story Finder

Brother William and Sister Johanna Buckley are converts to the Church and live on the island of Aruba. Years ago, when they were investigating the Church, they became friends with Sister Ana St. Cyr and her four-year-old grandson, Ralph, who attended the Oranjestad, Aruba branch. These two were the only members of the Church in their family and the only Haitian members of the branch. As the Buckleys integrated into the branch they found special joy in watching young Ralph’s testimony and spirituality develop.
In John 4:13–14, Jesus says to the Samarian woman at the well, “Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again:
“But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.”
It was apparent that Sister St. Cyr and little Ralph had allowed those everlasting waters to spring up within them.
Like the Samarian women who went off to share the good news, Ralph did the same. In 2018, Ralph Desir was called to serve in the Vanuatu Port Vila Mission where he had the opportunity to share the everlasting waters of the Savior, Jesus Christ. He was blessed with many companions from diverse cultures, lived in eight different places, and learned Bislama, the native language of Vanuatu, which helped him to effectively create relationships with the people.
Elder Desir was blessed to see the gospel of Jesus Christ strengthen the people he taught as they overcame the challenges in their lives. Upon completion of his mission, he testifies of the truthfulness of the power of everlasting waters and knows how to allow those waters to continue to bless his own life and the lives of others.
Brother Desir testifies that “serving a mission was the best decision that I have made in my life. I have learned to be like the Savior and teach the gospel by example in all things. I love the gospel with all my heart, and I wouldn’t exchange my mission experiences for anything. One of the reasons I served a mission was because I knew how much it would bless my family and how much joy it would bring to my own life.”
Since returning from his mission, Brother Desir has served as first counselor in the San Nicolas Branch presidency, Aruba, and as a delegation leader for the Aruba, Bonaire, Curacao District that attended the youth conference in the Dominican Republic in 2022. He is now serving as branch secretary. He uses his proficiency in the Dutch, Spanish, English, Papiamento, and French Creole languages to continue to bless lives in Aruba and elsewhere.
Brother and Sister Buckley have followed Brother Desir’s example and are now serving in the ABC district as church communication directors. They continue to enjoy watching him grow and share the gospel.

Shortly before coming to this conference, I received a beautiful letter from a woman who had lost her husband thirteen years ago. I will read it to you. She said: “I was left alone to raise my two sons. As I was attending the baptismal service of my eldest son, who is attending senior high school, I could not help but feel the beautiful atmosphere that surrounded me. I was so impressed by the sweet spirit of the Saints; how exuberant and humble I felt. I observed my son, dressed in white, going down into the water. The stake president’s wife, who was whispering to me, told me that his sins would be washed away. I was so overwhelmed by the beauty of this moment that I felt my tears well up and my heart cried for joy. At that moment I wanted to know about myself. What about me? What about me? Was it possible that I, too, could experience a washing away of my sins? If my sins could be washed away and made clean once more, I too wanted to be baptized.”

After four days of studying and praying with the missionaries, she too came to accept the Savior and was baptized. Shortly thereafter, her youngest son also entered into the waters of baptism. Now Sister Masako Anan and her two boys are preparing to go to the Tokyo Temple to be sealed as a family with their deceased father for time and all eternity. Oh, how glorious is the power of the gospel which can change the hearts of people from sorrow and despair to happiness and joy! Oh, how glorious it is to know that the power conferred upon Joseph Smith can change the hearts of the people!

Another experience began 48 hours after my wife’s burial. At that time, I was rushed to the hospital in an acute medical crisis. I then spent the first four weeks of a six-week stay in and out of intensive care and in and out of consciousness.
Virtually all my experience in the hospital during that first period is lost to my memory. What is not lost is my memory of a journey outside the hospital, out to what seemed the edge of eternity. I cannot speak fully of that experience here, but I can say that part of what I received was an admonition to return to my ministry with more urgency, more consecration, more focus on the Savior, more faith in His word.
I couldn’t help but feel I was receiving my own personal version of a revelation given to the Twelve nearly 200 years ago:
“Thou shalt bear record of my name … [and] send forth my word unto the ends of the earth. …
“… Morning by morning; and day after day let thy warning voice go forth; and when the night cometh let not the inhabitants of the earth slumber, because of thy speech. …
“Arise[,] … take up your cross, [and] follow me.”
My beloved sisters and brothers, since that experience, I have tried to take up my cross more earnestly, with more resolve to find where I can raise an apostolic voice of both warmth and warning in the morning, during the day, and into the night.

Natalie dipped her brush into the orange paint and put the finishing touches on her newest picture. Orange swirled together with red, yellow, pink, and lavender watercolors to form a sunset behind majestic mountains.
“There! I’m finally finished,” she announced as she placed the painting on the kitchen counter to dry.
“It’s beautiful, Natalie,” Mom said as she admired the painting. “I think you have a good chance of winning the school art contest again this year.”
Just then, Jared, Natalie’s twelve-year-old brother, zipped through the kitchen. “Bye! I’m going to practice for the big race!” he yelled as the screen door slammed shut. In the next instant, his blond hair and blue eyes were seen poking into the kitchen again. “Hey, Nat! You’re still going to paint my go-cart for me, right?”
“Sure, Jared. I’ll do it after lunch. You’ll be back by then, won’t you?”
“I’ll make sure that I am!”
In the meantime, I’ll go try out my new bike tires, Natalie thought. Jared had put new tires on her bicycle, and in return, Natalie had agreed to paint bright red flames on the sides of his go-cart for the community go-cart race on Monday afternoon.
As she started to pedal down the street, she heard her friend Nicole calling her. “Natalie, my parents are taking me to the amusement park today, and they said that I could bring a friend. Would you like to come?”
“I’d love to!” Natalie squealed. Then she remembered Jared. “Wait—I can’t go. I promised Jared I’d paint his go-cart for the race on Monday. Tomorrow’s Sunday, so I can’t do it then.”
“We can wait a couple hours for you if you want to paint it now.”
“Jared has it with him. He’s practicing for the race and won’t be back until after lunch,” Natalie said sadly.
“Well, it will go just as fast without paint as with paint,” Nicole rationalized. “Your painting it isn’t going to help him win the race.”
Natalie thought, That makes sense. It won’t matter if there aren’t any flames on the sides of his go-cart. Besides, does he expect me to wait around all day for him? “OK, I’ll go!” she told Nicole. “Mom’s gone to the store, so I’ll tell Dad and we can go right away!”
At the amusement park, smells of popcorn and cotton candy filled the air, and colorful clowns carried giant bouquets of bright red balloons. The girls went on every ride, but for some reason, Natalie wasn’t having much fun. Even when she rode the carousel, her favorite ride, she didn’t enjoy herself. As she sat on a beautiful white horse with sparkling jewels in its trappings, all she could think about was how disappointed Jared was going to be when he found out that she had broken her promise.
That evening, Natalie dreaded going home. She opened the door as quietly as she could, hoping that nobody would hear her come in. But Mom was sitting on the couch reading the newspaper. “Did you have a good time?” she asked.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Natalie answered halfheartedly. “Where’s Jared? I really need to talk to him.”
“He and Dad are out practicing for the race. They’ll be home late,” Mom said with an “I’m disappointed in you but I’m not going to say anything” tone of voice. “You’ll have to wait until morning.”
Sunday morning, Natalie didn’t say a word at breakfast, and she was barely able to choke down her waffles. Jared didn’t mention the go-cart, but Natalie could tell by the look in his eyes that he was hurt. She was glad when it was finally time to go to church.
After a prayer, her Primary teacher, Sister Parker, began to explain the lesson. “Today we are going to talk about covenants. A covenant is a promise, or an agreement, between two people.”
Natalie slumped in her seat. How did she know to teach this lesson today? she wondered.
“As long as one of them keeps the agreement,” Sister Parker continued, “the other is also bound to do what he or she has promised.”
Just like the deal I made with Jared. Natalie squirmed in her chair.
“We all make covenants when we are baptized. We promise to take upon us the name of our Savior, Jesus Christ. This means that we are willing to live as He would have us live.”
Jesus would not have wanted me to break my promise to Jared.
“We also promise to always remember Him and keep His commandments. In return, He promises to send His Spirit to always be with us. The sacrament is a time for us to remember what the Savior has done for us, and to renew our baptismal covenants.”
During the sacrament, she tried to really concentrate on what Sister Parker had talked about in Primary. She listened carefully to the sacrament prayers. She thought about Jesus and how He had suffered and died for her. Then she thought about the covenants she had made at baptism to take His name upon her, to always remember Him, and to keep His commandments. “Heavenly Father, I promise to do better,” she prayed silently.
On the way home, she apologized to Jared. “I’m really sorry that I didn’t paint your go-cart. How can I make it up to you?”
“It’s OK, Nat. I can still race. Don’t worry about it.”
But Natalie did worry about it. She wanted to make things right somehow. After praying again about it, she knew what she had to do.
Monday morning, Jared was astonished. When he went to get his go-cart, it had been painted a sleek black, and bright red flames raced along the sides. He ran into the house and up the stairs. “Hey, Nat!” he shouted.
“Shhh!” Mom said with her finger to her lips. “I’m going to let her sleep for a while longer.”
“Did you see it?” Jared asked, barely able to hold still long enough to hear the answer.
“Yes, I did. It looks great! She got up at three o’clock this morning to paint it for you.”
The time for the race finally came. Friends and families crowded along the course, waiting for the go-carts to come racing down the hill. Natalie waved to Jared as he slipped into the red and black go-cart. “Good luck, Jared!”
As he waved back, he had a huge, happy grin on his face. Natalie’s grin was just as huge and happy.

May I conclude with a personal story of trust? It was a test of my trust and faith.

When I was just a few years older than most of you here today, in my early 30's, my wife and I thought we had "arrived" in life. We had struggled through a decade of gaining degrees from three different universities, of teaching school here and there along the way, and of finally being hired by a university back home, Utah State University. We had purchased a home, had four young, wonderful children, and settled in to really "begin' life. I was called to be a university ward bishop soon after we came to Logan, and life was good.

However, the bottom dropped out of all that in a period of six months. My wife came down with a very severe illness. She was treated for pneumonia and then bronchitis, and yet kept getting worse. More doctors, more tests. It was not until Dr. Russell M. Nelson, then an esteemed surgeon and thoracic specialist (and before his call as an Apostle), finally found the problem. I remember well when he told us that my wife, the queen of my life, had lung cancer. It was something they least expected as she had never smoked. Her step-father, however, had been a chain smoker. "Second hand smoke" was not mentioned in those days. We were devastated but continued to trust in the Lord.

We tried everything, chemo, radiation, etc, and had many special blessings, including one from a great General Authority. But my wife did not get better. Finally we ceased all efforts to stop this dread disease and returned to the peace of our home in Logan. I was taught to administer pain ‘shots' and medication. A wonderful neighbor nurse came in twice a day to check on things and we enjoyed several peaceful and happy months. Things continued to deteriorate, however, and the last time my wife, Diana, was able to be up for anything was the day of our son John's 3rd birthday party. It was organized by two wonderful neighbors who put it all together. I carried my wife outside into the back yard to be part of the celebration. She was so happy to be there with her children and family.

It was her last day to open her eyes. That night she slipped into a coma and passed away six days later.

We both still trusted the Lord. We knew families can be together forever. I felt much of my life was over, the joy was gone, but I also knew life must go on. My wife had made me promise her that I would remarry. She knew it would all work out.

How I met my wonderful wife, Sister Monson, whom has just spoken to you, is another story for another time. It was a miracle in and of itself.

The Lord has blessed me all my life as I have put my trust in Him. He has always been there for me and I can never repay him for all He has given me. I have experienced great joy and happiness in this life and that continues to this very day.

Not too long ago, I was working on our farm with my nephew Nash. He is six and has a pure heart. He is my favorite nephew named Nash, and I believe I am his favorite uncle speaking in conference today.

As he helped me come up with a solution for our project, I said, “Nash, that is a great idea. How did you get so smart?” He looked at me with an expression in his eyes that said, “Uncle Ryan, how do you not know the answer to this question?”

He simply shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and confidently said, “Jesus.”

Nash reminded me that day of this simple and yet profound teaching. The answer to the simplest questions and to the most complex problems is always the same. The answer is Jesus Christ. Every solution is found in Him.

When I was 17 years old, I enlisted in the Royal Canadian Army Reserve. I was sent to a training base, and for the first time in my life, I was on my own to determine my path. I suspected that I would be tempted not to remain active in the Church and that my testimony would be challenged
When I arrived on the base, a course sergeant gave a tour of the different buildings and churches. I was prompted to ask where the LDS branch was located. The sergeant paused for a moment. Then he said that church won’t be found on base, but if I would like to attend, I could go with him and his wife. He was a recent convert to the Church and was happy to take anyone who wanted to go. I was glad to have the option of going, even though I had not decided if I was going to go that Sunday. After all, I was alone and free to choose for myself now. But something in my heart told me I needed to attend.
That Saturday night was one of the hardest in my life. I have since called it my “tree of life” experience. It started when my friends wanted me to hang out with them at the mess hall. I knew they were just going to drink, and I told them I needed sleep because I had to get up early for church. They laughed at my choice and went their way.
After they left, I sank into my bunk. From there, I could look out the window and watch my friends on the mess hall balcony, drinking and laughing. I remembered how they had teased me for not joining them. I felt like I imagine Lehi must have felt when he looked at the great and spacious building, where people were similarly laughing at him. I turned around to face my desk, only to notice my scriptures. I eagerly opened them and began to read. These were my iron rod, and just as the word of God had kept Lehi’s family safe, I knew they would likewise protect me.
I don’t recall what I read that night, but I do recall the Spirit I felt. I felt it again when I went to church the next morning. By attending church every Sunday while I lived on the base, I built a lasting testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Since my time at training camp, I was given the opportunity to share my testimony with others as a full-time missionary in the California Sacramento Mission.

When President George Albert Smith was young, his deceased grandfather George A. Smith appeared to him in a dream and asked, “I would like to know what you have done with my name.” President Smith responded, “I have never done anything with your name of which you need be ashamed.”1
Each week as we partake of the sacrament, we covenant and promise that we are willing to take upon us the name of Christ, always remember Him, and keep His commandments. If we are willing to do so, we are promised that most wonderful blessing—that His Spirit will always be with us.2
Just as President George Albert Smith had to account to his grandfather for what he had done with his name, someday each one of us will have to account to our Savior, Jesus Christ, for what we have done with His name.
The importance of having a good name is spoken of in Proverbs, where we read: “A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favour rather than silver and gold”3 and “The [name] of the just is blessed.”4
As I pondered these scriptures and the importance of having a good name, a flood of memories came into my mind about the good name and legacy my parents left my four brothers, my two sisters, and me. My parents did not have the riches of the world, nor did they have silver or gold. Nine of us lived in a two-bedroom, one-bath home with an enclosed back porch, where my sisters slept. When my parents passed away, my brothers and sisters and I gathered to divide their earthly possessions, which were few in number. My mother left a few dresses, some used furniture, and a few other personal items. My father left some carpenter tools, some old hunting rifles, and little else. The only things of any monetary value were a modest home and a small savings account.
Together we wept openly, giving thanks, knowing they had left us something much more precious than silver or gold. They had given us their love and their time. They had often borne testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel, which we can now read in their precious journals. Not so much by words but more by their example, they had taught us to work hard, to be honest, and to pay a full tithing. They also engendered a desire to further our education, to serve a mission, and most important, to find an eternal companion, be married in the temple, and endure to the end. Truly they left us the legacy of a good name, for which we shall ever be grateful.

Brother Law has lived in our community for thirty-six years. For the past thirteen years, after his wife passed away, he has lived alone. He is a kind gentleman and a good neighbor, but just as his large garden and row of wild yellow rose bushes shield his house, there has been an unseen barrier between him and his neighbors.
The hand of fellowship, and an offer to include him in Church activities, has often been extended, but he has always politely but firmly refused.
The neighborhood children have always loved him, but a few months ago a special friendship grew between him and nine-year-old Jessica, who lives across the street.
Worried about his being lonesome, she often went to pay a visit. One day she noticed a Book of Mormon on his shelf. It was one left years ago by the missionaries. Jessica picked it up and announced that she was going to read to him some of her favorite scriptures.
Amused at first, Brother Law listened only to be nice to Jessica. Then the spirit of that great book began to warm his heart. He started looking forward to her reading it to him.
In the past when missionaries had come to his door, he had politely told them that he was not interested. But one day after Jessica had begun reading to him, the missionaries came again and he listened to them!
Jessica’s friend, Kristen, invited him to go to church with her family. As Sunday approached, however, he told her that he had nothing to wear and that he didn’t feel very well.
The following Sunday, Jessica invited him to join her family at church. When he again tried the excuse of nothing to wear, Jessica told him, “You can wear one of Daddy’s shirts.”
Brother Law chuckled—Jessica’s father’s shirts were several sizes larger than his.
Not one to give up, Jessica told her mom the problem, and the next week he was presented with an early Christmas present, a new white shirt. By this time he was running out of excuses, but he tried once more by telling Jessica he had no pants. She simply replied, “Oh, you can wear most any pants—just make sure they don’t have paint on them.”
He didn’t have a tie, either, but one of Dad’s was promptly produced, and they headed for the chapel. After seventy-one years of not going to church, Brother Law was very nervous. Once he was in the chapel, though, he felt warm and comfortable.
The next hurdle came when the missionaries approached him about baptism. He had decided the Church was a family church and so it was really no place for him.
The following Sunday one of the Relief Society sisters gave a talk at ward conference on how we are all brothers and sisters in the gospel. As she talked, the Spirit touched his heart and he realized that he really could be a part of the ward “family.” Besides, he recalled, all the children in the neighborhood were already calling him Grandpa or Brother Law.
This story has a wonderful ending, or should I say beginning. Today when you look at Brother Law, he literally glows with the Spirit. On April 10, 1994, he was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

It was 11:00 at night and Megan had a research paper due the next day which she hadn’t started yet because after supper she’d gone to school to help decorate for a dance she didn’t even have a date for. On top of that she was having a biology test the next day and she hadn’t studied at all since her last test. Part of the test was going to be about the insides of a frog, which she would have known if she’d gone to lab when they dissected a frog, but she had missed that day because she was first-chair violin in orchestra and had been gone playing in a string quartet competition. She could have made up the lab after school, but she was on the high school gymnastics team and that’s when they practiced. Finally, today, the day before the exam, she had gone to Mr. Draper, the biology teacher, and begged him to let her do the frog at home.
And that’s why she now had a dead frog in a jar of formaldehyde on her desk.
Also she was supposed to give the devotional at early-morning seminary the next day.
Megan sat on her bed and looked around. Her room was a mess, and she didn’t have any clean clothes to wear because her mother had a new policy and now refused to wash anything unless it was put in the hamper. Megan never took the time to do that, so there were little piles of clothes on the floor, a pile for what she’d worn on Monday, a pile for what she’d worn on Tuesday. Her mother claimed you could tell what day of the week it was by counting piles, which her mother said was not only disgusting but unhealthy, complaining that the city Health and Sanitation Department would shut down the home if they ever saw her room.
She didn’t know what she was going to wear tomorrow. She thought about rummaging through the piles and finding something that seemed fairly clean, or else she could wash up some clothes after she finished the term paper and cut up the frog.
Half an hour earlier, at 10:30, when she had come home from decorating at school, her mother asked her if she knew what time it was. She had learned to be careful with that kind of question. One time she had said, “Of course I know what time it is,” to which her mother said, “Don’t get smart with me, young lady.” That’s when she learned that sometimes it was better to listen than to talk.
“You’re not getting enough sleep,” her mother said. “Your body needs eight hours. You should be going to bed at least by 10:00 every night.”
I’m listening, Megan thought. But you’re not understanding. How can you talk about how much sleep I need when I have so much to do?
“Did anyone call?” she asked.
“The bishop called.”
“And?”
“He wants to have a birthday interview with you. He asked about tomorrow night.”
Megan wondered if the bishop knew she had no chance of going to the dance and that’s why he suggested then. “I might have a date then.”
“Who with?”
“Someone might ask me to the dance at the last minute.” She was hoping Craig would ask her at seminary in the morning. He was always putting off things like that anyway.
“It won’t be Craig,” her mother said.
“How do you know that?”
“I was talking to his mother today. He asked a nonmember girl to the dance.”
“Who?”
“Krissie I think. I can’t remember the last name.”
“Krissie Peterson?”
“I think so.”
“He asked Krissie Peterson?” Megan raged. “How can he do that to me? I’m the one who told him to get contacts. I’m the one who told him to quit staring at the floor when he talks to people. I’m the one who taught him how to dance. So I finally get him halfway acceptable, and what does he do? He asks Krissie Peterson out. Thanks a lot, Craig. That does it! What would he think if I dated every nonmember guy who asks me out?”
“You know that wouldn’t be right.”
“Yeah, but is it right for Craig to ask a nonmember girl out?”
“I’m not Craig’s mother, but I am yours.”
She couldn’t argue with that. “I’ve got to go study now.”
“The bishop wanted me to find out if you can see him tomorrow after supper. He says he won’t keep you long if you have plans.”
“Spend Friday night talking to the bishop? I’ll go to the movies or something.”
“You can go to the movies and still see him. He’s a busy man, Megan. He says he can see you at 6:15. You’ll be done by 6:30.”
“Okay,” she said. “I surrender!”
“Good. Now can you go right to bed?” her mother asked.
“No. I’ve got to write a term paper and dissect a stupid frog.”
“For tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re just starting it now, at 10:43 at night?”
“I couldn’t do it any earlier.”
“You didn’t have to decorate for that dance.”
“I was on the decorating committee.”
“Your studies are more important than decorating for a dance.”
Why was it so hard to make her mother understand?
As Megan was about to leave, her mother said, “Oh, I did laundry today. You didn’t have anything in your hamper so I didn’t wash anything of yours.”
Megan thought about saying that was the last straw. Instead she said, “Fine. No problem. I’ll do a wash while I finish my homework.”
“Sorry, you can’t. The noise of the washer and dryer keeps your father awake. If you want to do a wash, you’ll have to do it when people are not trying to sleep. You’ll just have to wear some of your other clothes. You have plenty in your closet. What about those things Aunt Alberta gave you.”
“I wouldn’t even wear them for Halloween.”
“Then I don’t know what you’re going to wear.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m going to my room now.”
“Don’t forget to say your prayers.”
She got to her room and shut the door. She went to Monday’s pile of dirty laundry and started looking for something clean. Monday was the day the girl next to her in orchestra had challenged her for first chair. Megan had done okay and kept her first-chair position but it had been tense and sweaty, so Monday’s clothes were not candidates for what she could wear for tomorrow.
She decided that after she wrote her term paper and dissected the frog she’d wash some clothes in the bathtub. Or else maybe she could get by with using the washing machine. It would be okay if the noise didn’t wake her parents.
She pushed some clothes off the chair of her desk and sat down. She had decided to write her paper on the history of women’s gymnastics in America. She had taken the time last Saturday to go to the library and check out three books on gymnastics, but she hadn’t yet had time to read any of them.
The research paper was due at 8:00 in the morning. Maybe I can just fake it, she thought. She began to write. “Women’s gymnastics in America started small but has grown large. Many more girls are involved in gymnastics than ever before.” She counted the words. Twenty words. Only 2,980 words left to go. She tried again. “Women’s gymnastics in the United States of America started very small and tiny but now has grown much larger than it began. Many more girls from ages six years old to college age are now involved in the sport than ever before.” She counted again. Forty-two words. Now only 2,958 words left to write.
It was a long night. She ended up having to race through the books she’d checked out to get enough material, and the paper was still a little shorter than it should have been. She finished at two in the morning.
Now for the frog. She unscrewed the lid of the jar containing the frog. Just the smell of the formaldehyde was enough to make her nauseated. She was supposed to have a special knife to cut up the frog, but she’d left it at school, so she went down to the kitchen and got a plate, a fork, a bunch of paper towels, and her mother’s sharpest paring knife. She returned to her room, slid the frog out onto the plate, and sat down with the knife and fork. She touched the frog with the knife. Its skin was hard and rubbery. She looked at herself in the mirror. The way she was holding the knife and fork reminded her of suppertime for horrible creatures of the night. She knew she would throw up if she cut the frog. She slid it back into the jar.
She spent an hour reading about the insides of a frog, memorizing the words.
At 3:30, she took a load of clothes to the washing machine and started a wash, went back to her room, and set the alarm clock for 4:30 so she could get up and put her clothes in the dryer.
She slept through her alarm. The next thing she remembered was her mother telling her she’d better get going or she’d be late for seminary. She jumped out of bed and started the clothes dryer.
“Those things won’t be ready by the time you have to leave,” her mother said.
“I’ll wear them damp then.”
“You’ll catch cold if you do that.”
“No problem, I can handle it.”
“You’ll just have to wear some of Aunt Alberta’s things. I’m not having you leave here wearing damp clothes. Aren’t you supposed to give the devotional for seminary today? Don’t be late.”
While she was taking a shower, her dad knocked on the door and told her to save some hot water for the rest of the family.
Megan felt a knot, like a hot iron, growing in her stomach, but she knew she couldn’t get sick because she had a big gymnastics meet coming up in a few days.
After her shower she went to the dryer to see how her clothes were coming along. They had just ten minutes and they’d be dry. The only problem was that she should leave for seminary in five minutes. I’ll just have to be late then. She did her hair while she was waiting.
“If you say you’re going to do the devotional, then I think you should make an effort to be on time,” her mother said.
The buzzer for the dryer sounded. Megan raced to the dryer and got dressed.
Two minutes later she jumped in the car and drove to seminary. By the time she got there, they’d already begun. It was too late for her to give the devotional.
After seminary, Craig came up to her. “I was wondering if I could talk to you.”
“What about?”
“I’m taking Krissie Peterson to the dance tonight, and I need some suggestions of where to take her to eat.”
“Leave me out of this, Craig, okay?” She walked off and left him standing there.
By the time she got home after school she had a pounding headache. She lay down and slept until it was time for supper.
During supper her mother reminded her about her interview with the bishop.
“I don’t want to talk to him tonight.”
She noticed her parents looked worried, as if the reason she didn’t want to talk to the bishop was because there was some awful secret in her life they didn’t know about.
“Why not?” her father quietly asked.
“I just don’t feel like it.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“Why doesn’t everybody just get off my back!” She stood up and ran to her room and slammed the door.
She looked around her room. Everything she saw made her feel guilty about not doing something. There was her violin that she hadn’t practiced for four days and she had a lesson on Monday. There was the stupid frog she still hadn’t dissected. There was her seminary material she needed to catch up on. And there were still piles of clothes on the floor because she’d only washed enough for one day.
The phone rang. She answered it, hoping it would be one of her friends who didn’t have a date for the dance. Instead it was the bishop.
“Megan, we’ve had a hard time setting up a time for an interview, haven’t we? How is tonight for you?”
She decided she might as well get it over with. “Okay.”
She drove to the bishop’s house, talked with his wife while he got off the phone, and then went with him to his small office in the basement.
She dreaded the interview, dreaded the thought of being reminded of yet another area she wasn’t doing a good job in.
She wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. “Bishop, I haven’t done anything wrong since the last time I talked to you. That’s mainly what you want to find out, isn’t it?”
“Are you happy?” he asked.
She was surprised at the question. “Happy?”
“Yes, we’re supposed to be happy.”
“I thought we were supposed to be perfect. You can’t be perfect and happy too, can you?”
The bishop looked carefully at her. She felt as if he could see into her soul. “Megan, is something wrong?” he asked.
“Not really. It’s just that nothing I do is ever good enough. Sometimes I feel like giving up. I just can’t take it anymore.”
“You can’t take what?”
“All the pressure to do well in school and church and in gymnastics and orchestra. I try to get all A’s in school, but everything’s getting harder for me and I can’t seem to do anything right anymore. Everyone’s always mad at me for not doing better. I never have any time for myself. I have to take the ACT exam next week and I know if I don’t do well, I won’t get a scholarship, and I’ve got to have some help or I don’t see how I’ll be able to make it. Today I was supposed to give the devotional for seminary but I was late for it.”
“How have you been doing in school?”
“Not very well. I think I’m only getting a B in math. If I did more of the homework, I could do better, but there’s never enough time for everything.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a B or even a C,” the bishop said.
“No, you don’t understand, I have to get all A’s.”
“You have to? Do your mom and dad tell you that you have to get all A’s?”
“No, it’s just understood. Bishop, you know the Church says we’re supposed to be perfect, so why are you telling me it’s okay to get a C?”
“You say the Church teaches we’re supposed to be perfect. Where does it say that?”
With no hesitation, Megan answered. “Matthew 5:48.” [Matt. 5:48]
“You know that well, don’t you?”
“I only hear it about ten times a day, that’s all.”
He picked up his scriptures and turned to Matthew, chapter 5. “Who was the one speaking in Matthew 5:48?”
“Jesus.”
“What was he talking about just before he said ‘Be ye therefore perfect’?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, guess then. Was he saying how important it is to get good grades in school?”
“No.”
“Was he saying how important it is to win gymnastics meets?”
“No.”
“Was he saying how important it is to be first-chair violin in an orchestra?”
“No.”
“What was he saying then?”
“I don’t know.”
“Look here, Megan, in verse 44, [Matt 5:44] the Savior is telling us to love our enemies, and bless the ones that curse you, and be good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you. In verse 45 [Matt. 5:45] he tells us we should do this so we can be the children of our Father in Heaven, and in verse 48 [Matt 5:48] he tells us to be perfect, even as our Father in Heaven is perfect.”
She didn’t understand what he was getting at.
He turned to Luke, chapter 6, verse 36. “Here’s the way Luke reported it. ‘Be ye therefore merciful, as your Father also is merciful.’ Megan, Jesus was talking about how we should treat each other, with love and affection and kindness, the same way Heavenly Father treats us.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He didn’t say, ‘Be ye therefore a perfectionist,’ did he?”
“No, but we’re supposed to always try to do better …”
“Let me ask you a question. Do you think Father in Heaven cares whether you get an A or a B in mathematics?”
“He wants me to do my best.”
“What if your best is a B?”
“My best can’t be a B.”
“Why can’t it?”
“Because it just can’t.”
“Can you picture yourself at the Judgment and Heavenly Father is looking over your life and he says, ‘So, I see you got a B in math in high school. Why only a B?’ Can you picture your loving Father in Heaven saying that to you?”
“No.”
“Then maybe it’s not very important to him, right?”
“It’s important to do well in school.”
“I agree. It’s important to do your best.”
She wouldn’t budge. “My best is an A.”
“In every subject?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I can get an A in any subject if I work hard enough.”
“But you have other things you need to do, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe a B is the best you can do and still do all the other things you want to do. Did you watch the Olympics last year?”
“Yes.”
“Did you watch the decathlon?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know that it’s possible for a person to win a decathlon and not win in any one of the events? All you have to do is place well in each event, and if you can do that, you can win. I think that’s true for you. I’m sure there are students in your math class who do nothing but math at night. And I’m sure there are people in the violin section that do nothing but practice violin at night. You, with your gymnastics and Church activities and music activities and everything else you do, maybe you’re being too hard on yourself to try to be the best in everything. What do you think Heavenly Father is most interested in, how well you do in your next gymnastics meet or how well you live the Ten Commandments?”
“But my mom and dad expect me to always do my best.”
“Sure, they want you to do your best within the constraints on your time. Besides, most of all they want you to be happy. Are you happy the way things are going now?”
“No.”
“Then I think you ought to make some changes in your life. Either cut down on your activities, or accept the fact that you can’t excel in everything you do. Heavenly Father doesn’t require you to be perfect in gymnastics or violin or math or even seminary attendance. He wants you to be merciful and loving. He doesn’t want you to run faster than you have strength. He doesn’t care if you get a B or a C as long as you’re making a good effort and, more importantly, that you’re really trying to be more like the Savior in the way you treat other people and in being virtuous.”
Megan felt a burden being lifted off her shoulders. Tears welled up in her eyes. She was a little embarrassed to have the bishop see her cry, but he didn’t make a big deal out of it. Pretty soon she was shaking his hand and thanking him. Then she drove home.
“How did your interview go?” her mother asked.
“It was great, Mom.” She saw a look of relief come over her mother. “He gave me some good advice.”
She went to her room and sat on the bed and thought. On the surface everything was the same—her room was still a mess, the undissected frog still sat in the jar of formaldehyde, her math homework for Monday was yet to be done, her violin still lay untouched with a lesson only three days away. And yet there was a difference in the way she felt.
A few minutes later she got up and began to clean her room. This time it’s for me, she thought with a smile.

I really connected with the devotional talk by Heina Hanohano where she mentioned how our work can sometimes pull us away from the things that matter most. Before coming to BYU–Hawaii, I worked at Target as what was essentially an assistant store manager. Like many in the retail and hospitality industries, I worked long hours, weekends, holidays, especially during the busy Christmas season. From November to February, it wasn’t unusual for me to work 120+ hours a week. For most of the Christmas season, from the moment I walked in the door of my home, I only had five hours before I had to turn around and drive back to work. A lot of times that’s what the job required, but a lot of times I chose to stay at work in order to advance my career. Things at work were going well, I had received several promotions, and my career was going in the direction that I had expected.

However, my family life was suffering. My wife told me that she often felt like a single parent. One day, I was sitting in the driveway with my wife, and for the first time ever, I saw my oldest child ride her bike all around the driveway. I was amazed and said to my wife, “Wow, I can’t believe how quickly she’s learned to ride her bike. How long has she been practicing, a week?”

My wife looked at me and gently said, “Actually… she’s been riding that bike for over six months. Where have you been?”

That moment hit me hard. I realized I had been so focused on work, on climbing the ladder, that I was missing out on spending time with my family.

A few months later, my father was diagnosed with terminal cancer. My family and I decided to move from Hawaii to Utah to care for and to spend time with my father.

About eight months later, my father passed, and instead of going back to Target, I felt it was a good time to change careers.

I want to clarify that I’m not saying that working long hours is a bad thing; it’s usually part of the journey. Many of you will be going into careers that require that kind of work ethic, especially at the start of your career. That experience was important for my career at that time in my life.

However, it is critical that we make time for the things that matter most.

NARRATOR: When inspiring words unite with noble and stirring music, art is raised to worship. There is perhaps no better blending of artistic talent in LDS hymns than in those created by Eliza R. Snow and George Careless. Five times the products of their combined pens appear in our hymnbook. Of these, none excels the hymn “Though Deepening Trials.”
Written in 1838 or 39 when the Saints were being driven from their homes in Missouri, the poem offers strength, encouragement, and hope. Having experienced persecution, first in Kirtland and then Missouri, Eliza R. Snow understood the need for comfort, assurance, and hope for better times. From the depths of anguish and despair rose the lofty expression of hope and courage:
“Press on, press on, ye Saints …
The time at longest is not long …
Though tribulations rage abroad,
Christ says, ‘In me ye shall have peace.’”
Just as these noble thoughts found life in the midst of despair, so too did the music. George Careless had endured a long illness that had gradually sapped his physical as well as his spiritual strength.
In a mood of great despondency, he went first to the scriptures and then to his beloved hymnbook in an attempt to find some comfort and hope. As he read through the familiar words of the hymns he knew so well, he came at length to one of Eliza R. Snow’s that she called “Be Not Discouraged.” As he read through the words, they inspired him to write the music that has made this hymn one of our most popular. His spirits rose, his despair left, and when he was once again well, he called on his good friend, Horace K. Whitney, to suggest a title for it. Brother Whitney gave it the name, “Reliance.” (See Pyper, p. 140; Cornwall, p. 278.)
SONG: “Though Deepening Trials.” (Hymns, p. 285.)

Sister Chen is now battling a new disease and the aftereffects of a minor heart attack. Twenty years after first asking God why He had left her, she found herself asking the same question—and receiving the same answer. “Haven’t I already told you?” she felt Him say. “You still have temple work to do.”
So Sister Chen continues to spend one week per month at the temple.
“These are things we have to do for our ancestors that they cannot do for themselves,” she says. “With my situation, I don’t have the time commitments that others have with work and such. I need to work hard now while I can.”

John’s shoes needed repairing. He had worn them out running up and down on Steensbakken (Steens Hill), where he lived with his mother, Anna Widtsoe, and his two-year-old brother, Osborne. After the death of their father when Osborne was only two months old, the family had moved from Froya, the outermost island off the coast of Norway, to the mainland. They lived in a small apartment in Trondheim, the town known as the Cathedral City. The two little boys and their mother often looked out over the beautiful old capital city to the harbor and the fjord that zigzagged out toward the ocean.
When John showed Mother how his shoes had worn, she asked a neighbor to recommend someone who could repair them. He knew just the right person, he said, and soon a boy came to their door. He was a shoemaker’s son who picked up and delivered shoes for his father. A few days later the boy brought back John’s shoes neatly mended. A strange little pamphlet was tucked into the toe of each shoe.
John’s father had been a schoolmaster. Before he died he had taught his young son to read, but there were so many unfamiliar words in the pamphlet that the boy could not understand what was written.
The next day his mother wrapped another pair of shoes that needed repairing into a parcel, tucked them under her arm, and set out on the half-hour walk to the shoemaker’s shop. She seemed more quiet than usual when she returned, and during the next few days she was thoughtful and restless.
When the shoemaker’s son delivered the second pair of shoes, new pamphlets were tucked into the toe of each one. John knew that his mother spent many hours carefully studying them. The next Sunday she arranged for someone to be with the boys while she went to a meeting at the shoemaker’s sturdy log house.
It was not until some years later that she told John what the shoemaker had said when she went to his shop that first time to ask him why he had put a pamphlet into each of John’s shoes.
“You may be surprised,” he had answered, “to hear me say that I can give you something of far more value than soles for your child’s shoes.”
The pamphlets were Mormon missionary tracts. Because of them John, his mother, and his brother became members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. None of their relatives or friends approved; all became unfriendly toward Anna and the boys.

Today was Lillian’s last day in Primary. Lillian would miss the other Primary kids. There were just three of them—two younger girls and her little brother, Michael.
“How are you feeling about moving up to Young Women?” her Primary teacher asked.
“I can’t wait to go to class with the older girls!” Lillian said.
“I’m glad you’re excited,” her teacher said. “Who else will be in Young Women with you?”
Lillian thought of the older girls in the ward. Summer and Cova had just finished high school. And Melvina’s family had moved away. Wait. That left . . . just Lillian.
What would her Young Women class be like? Just the teachers and her? That sounded awkward—and lonely. Thinking about it made Lillian nervous. She frowned. She didn’t want to be the only one in Young Women.
For the rest of the day, Lillian thought about being the only young woman. At dinner, she moved the food around on her plate without eating it. She mumbled when it was her turn to read at family scripture study.
Mum set her scriptures down. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Lillian sighed. “I’m going to be all alone in Young Women!”
Mum moved to sit by Lillian. She gave her a hug. “That won’t be easy,” she said. “What can we do to help you?”
Lillian thought for a moment. “Maybe we could pray that another girl will move into the ward. And maybe Dad could give me a blessing.”
Dad smiled. “Those are great ideas.”
The family knelt to pray. “Heavenly Father,” Lillian began, “I’m glad I get to move to Young Women. I don’t want to be alone, but if that is Thy will, that’s all right. Please help me know what I can do to feel better. And if You want to inspire a family with a girl my age to move into our ward, that would be great too.”
After the prayer, Dad put his hands on her head. “I bless you to feel peaceful about moving to Young Women,” he said. “Heavenly Father will bless you as you ask for His help.”
Lillian did feel peaceful. She wasn’t sure yet what she could do to make moving to Young Women easier. But she also knew Heavenly Father would help her.
On Sunday, Lillian was still a little nervous. But she remembered the peace she felt after Dad’s blessing. She knew she would be OK.
In sacrament meeting, the bishop announced that Sister Barns would be the new Young Women president. Sister Barns stood up when her name was called. Lillian didn’t really know her, but she looked friendly.
Mum had said that when she was Lillian’s age, her Young Women leader became one of her best friends. Maybe Lillian and Sister Barns could be friends! That was an answer to her prayer.
After sacrament meeting, Lillian went to her new classroom. An older girl was standing in the hall.
“Hi,” Lillian said. “Are you visiting our ward?”
The girl shook her head. “No. Our family just moved here.”
Lillian smiled. “Welcome to our ward. This is my first day in Young Women.” She and the girl sat down in the classroom. “By the way, my name is Lillian.”
“No way!” the new girl said. “My name is Lillian too!”
Lillian laughed. Heavenly Father had answered her prayer again! Maybe being in Young Women wouldn’t be so lonely after all.
This story took place in Australia.
Illustrations by Sue Teodoro

Wolverhampton Ward, Birmingham Stake, was full of the festive spirit throughout December as ward members worked together to brighten the Christmas Day of patients at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital Birmingham.
Sister Angela Elliot worked with the Relief Society after being told by her daughter Charlie, a nurse on the men’s ward, that some patients may not receive gifts on Christmas Day.
The sisters in Relief Society collected enough gifts throughout December to fill 25 packages of presents, containing items such as socks, chocolate, and puzzle books. They were then joined by the Young Women to organise the parcels and to make Christmas cards.
Then with voices ready, sisters and brethren entertained patients and nurses with carols and Christmas classics, sharing Christmas cheer with each area of the ward.
“It was a perfect start to the Christmas week, and we just loved seeing the patients and lovely nurses joining in.” said the Quesne family.
Susie Piper remarked, “It was a wonderful opportunity for us to serve with friends and to spread Christmas cheer.”
Sharing the light of Christ, and lifting those who are alone and suffering, really brought the Wolverhampton Ward the true joy of Christmas this year.

On the evening of 4 April, TV Successo in Mozambique aired a show that they had never run before. Instead of the usual lineup of evening television programs, the station aired uplifting musical items and inspiring messages from Church leaders around the globe. For the first time ever, this local TV station aired the Sunday morning session of general conference.
It was close to midnight on the same evening when President Russell M. Nelson addressed members of the Church to end the conference. It was then that he announced that several more temples would be built.
“We want to bring the house of the Lord even closer to our members, that they may have the sacred privilege of attending the temple as often as their circumstances allow,” said the prophet.1
“And then,” says Freeman Dickie, who is currently serving as the Beira Mozambique Stake president, “They announced that we were getting a temple in Beira!”
Despite the late hour, “messages were being sent around on the WhatsApp groups. People were awake and celebrating! First, we were able to watch general conference live on TV for the first time, and then the same night came the temple announcement! You can imagine how exciting it was.”

One sentence in my patriarchal blessing thrilled me: “You will be called to preach the gospel in the world.” I had a lifelong desire to serve a mission, and so when I heard that sentence, I felt that I would have that opportunity.

When it was time for me to serve a mission, the United States was involved in a war and only a few young men were actually allowed to serve missions. The rest were expected to serve their country in the war if they were drafted.

At that time, all prospective missionaries were interviewed by General Authorities as well as by their local Church leaders. I went through the interview process and, because of that sentence in my patriarchal blessing, thought that I would be called on a mission. I was terribly disappointed when I was notified that I was required to serve my country, instead.

I often thought about that sentence in my patriarchal blessing. When and how will I be called to preach the gospel? I asked myself. Today, of course, as a General Authority, I am preaching the gospel all over the world. I can see now how that promise is being fulfilled. But when I was younger, I often wondered.

An important by-product of a strong body should be self-confidence in using it. Many personal descriptions of the Prophet blend physical strength and a determined spirit, as does Parley P. Pratt’s in calling him “tall and well built, strong and active,” possessing “a noble boldness and independence of character” (The Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt, New York, 1888, p. 48). The Prophet led the way in physical and moral courage. It is well known that the morning after being tarred and feathered, he preached to a congregation that included his enemies. Not so well known is a similar episode in returning from a Canadian mission in the fall of 1837. At the time, Mary Fielding was close to the Prophet’s family and wrote to her sister about the Prophet and Sidney Rigdon making their way back to Kirtland through the swamps at night. They had been unjustly arrested and escaped about 10 P.M. with a mob of men trying to get them by fanning out from the roads with lighted torches. Joseph took his older counselor by the hand, and they “covenanted to live and die together.” When the blazing torches came their way, they lay on wet ground behind logs, choking back hard breathing for fear of discovery. The mud-drenched men reached home about 3 A.M., sick with fatigue, but after a short sleep Joseph appeared in the temple to speak “in a very powerful manner and blessed the congregation in the name of the Lord.”

Christianity celebrates the life and ministry of Jesus Christ, the Only Begotten Son of God the Eternal Father. Christian churches with great variations of doctrine dot the land the world over. When 14-year-old Cortnee, a daughter of a mission president, entered a new high school as a freshman, she was asked by classmates if she was a Christian. They scoffed at her response that she was a Mormon, a common reference to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Upon arriving home, she asked her mother, “Mom, are we Christians?”
Cortnee asked, “Mom, are we Christians?” As a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, you are a Christian, and I am too. I am a devout Christian who is exceedingly fortunate to have greater knowledge of the true “doctrine of Christ” since my conversion to the restored Church. These truths define this Church as having the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Like other members of the Church, I now understand the true nature of the Godhead, I have access to additional scripture and revelation, and I can partake of the blessings of priesthood authority. Yes, Cortnee, we are Christians, and I testify of these truths in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.