Gospel Story Finder

Mr. and Mrs. Duck had five new ducklings. Their names were Dora, Dolly, Dinah, Daphne, and Harold.
When it was time for their first swimming lesson, Mrs. Duck took them to the pond. She showed them how to float. She showed them how to wiggle-waggle their feet.
“Now,” she said, “away you go!”
And splish-splash! Away went Dora and Dolly.
Splash-splish! Away went Dinah and Daphne.
Glub-glub-glub! went Harold. And he sank straight down to the bottom of the pond.
“No, no, no!” cried Mrs. Duck, as she fished Harold out. “That’s not right at all! You float like this. You wiggle-waggle your feet like this. And away you go!”
And away Harold went, glub-glub-glub! Straight to the bottom again.
It happened the next time he tried to swim, and the next, and the time after that. By the end of the day, poor Harold had seen more of the pond’s bottom than he’d seen of its top.
When Mrs. Duck told him the news, Mr. Duck roared, “Harold can’t swim? Nonsense! You must have been doing something wrong, my dear. Tomorrow I will teach Harold.”
And the next day he took Harold to the pond.
“You float like this,” said Mr. Duck. “You wiggle-waggle your feet like this. And away you go, Harold! Harold?”
“Glub-glub-glub!” said Harold.
By the end of that day, the fish were getting to know Harold very well.
“Hello again, Harold,” they said.
“Glub-glub-glub!” said Harold, on his way to the bottom.
Mr. and Mrs. Duck took Harold to the family doctor.
“A sinking feeling?” said Doctor Quack, as he stroked his chin. “Straight to the bottom, you say? Hmmm!” Then he said, “I can’t find anything wrong with him at all. He’ll learn to swim soon, you’ll see.”
But Harold didn’t learn to swim, not that day, nor the next, nor the one after that.
Harold didn’t seem to mind at all. He practiced floating when his mother asked him to. He practiced wiggle-waggling his feet when his father asked him to.
And sometimes, because he knew his parents were worried, he pretended to swim in the shallow water. But he always kept one foot on the bottom.
Then early one morning, Harold disappeared. Mrs. Duck couldn’t find him anywhere.
She set up a terrible fuss.
“Don’t anyone leave this duck pond!” she shouted. “Someone has stolen my Harold!”
“I saw a duckling in the middle of the pond,” said a frog. “Don’t ask me who he is. All you ducks look alike to me.”
Mr. and Mrs. Duck dived and dived under the water. They found a rubber tire, some rusty cans, and an old boot. But they didn’t find Harold.
“I shall never hear his little glub-glub-glub again!” sobbed Mrs. Duck.
“Glub-glub-glub?” asked a voice behind them.
And there was Harold.
“Harold’s floating!” gasped Mrs. Duck.
“Harold’s wiggle-waggling his feet!” cried Mr. Duck.
“Harold’s swimming!” shouted Dora, Dolly, Dinah, and Daphne.
And he was.
Mr. and Mrs. Duck watched proudly as Harold swam with his sisters.
“Sometimes things just take patience,” said Mrs. Duck.
“Sometimes things just take practice,” said Mr. Duck.
But Harold only smiled.
Little as he was, he had known all along that sometimes things just take time.

As I grew up, I heard the testimonies of many members and especially of my mother. I asked my mother how I could gain my own testimony, and she encouraged me to read the scriptures and the Tambuli (now Liahona).
From then on, I tried my best to read the scriptures and the Church magazines. Doing so has helped me to have faith and doubt no more. Also, I now desire to go on a mission when I reach the age of 21.
Carpio Dhareen,Placer Branch, Philippines Cagayan de Oro Mission

I am the only boy in my family, and I have four sisters. I’m really close with them.
I’ll never forget one night when one of my older sisters helped me gain a testimony. My dad was giving the home evening lesson about testimonies. The whole time I was frustrated with myself because I didn’t feel like I had one.
Later that night, I was reading the scriptures in my room, and my sister came in and asked what was wrong. I was afraid she would make fun of me when I told her, but she didn’t.
We decided to read the First Vision story. I had read it many times before, but not like this. As I read, I had a feeling that’s not easy to describe. It was peaceful, calm, and quiet.
We stopped and said a prayer, and I continued to feel the Spirit. Now I can say I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet and that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ restored the Church through him.
I love my sisters because they are good examples and they look after me.
Josh J., Alabama, USA

A little over a year ago, my husband and I visited Nauvoo. As we walked through the Old Pioneer Cemetery searching for the grave of an ancestor, Zina Baker Huntington, I was touched by the peaceful solitude and spirit I felt. I walked through the trees and read the names on the gravestones, many of them children and families. I wept as my heart was turned to our forefathers, many of whom had joined the Church and come to Nauvoo. In my mind I asked many questions: Why did they leave their comfortable homes and families? Why did they suffer persecution, sickness, even death? Why did they sacrifice all that they had to come to this place and build a temple? They hardly had shelter, and yet they were building a temple! Why did they do it? And when the temple was nearly completed, how could they leave it behind? As I sat silently contemplating this scene, the answer came forcefully yet softly to my mind and heart: “We did this for you.”

Illustrations by Val Bagley
Brigham’s feet were always going the wrong way. When he woke up in the mornings, his feet were on his pillow and his head was where his feet should be. Sometimes his feet ended up in the wrong shoes. Brigham walked in circles. “Brigham,” Mom said, “Your left shoe is on your right foot and your right shoe is on your left foot.” When Dad took Brigham to the library, Brigham’s feet made a clopping sound on the hard floor. “Shh,” Dad said to Brigham. “Shh,” Brigham said to his feet. On Sunday morning, Brigham dressed himself for church. He put on his pants and his shirt. He put his right foot in his right shoe and his left foot in his left shoe. Brigham walked between Mom and Dad on the way to church. He looked up and saw the church. He looked down and saw his feet. “My feet are going the right way,” Brigham said. “They are going to church.”

Your personal experiences will also greatly influence and even completely change your perception of beauty. As a college student I remember a time when I was introduced to a young lady that at first impression I thought was rather funny looking. Her face was very round, and she had white, not blond but white hair. Her eyebrows, and eyelashes were white. Her complexion was very light also, and she really didn’t wear much makeup. In fact, the only features that really showed up much were her dark eyes. My very first impression of her was that she looked like a snowman! Now, this is kind of mean, but I tell you about it not because of my first impression, but because of what happened over the next few months. As I became more acquainted with this young lady, I began to see her qualities of kindness, of gentleness, and graciousness. She was in every sense a lovely person. But what was the most surprising to me was that she became very beautiful to look at also. I could no longer see the little snowman anymore, even when I looked for it. Something had changed. And it wasn’t her hair color, or her makeup, or the shape of her face.

It was the hardest algebra homework I’d ever faced. I struggled most of the afternoon with variables buzzing in my head. When my mom asked me to babysit for a couple wanting to attend the temple that night, I agreed reluctantly. I reasoned with myself that I wouldn’t understand this homework anyway, so why not watch five kids for a few hours? Knowing the children had an early bedtime, I brought my math book with me.

As my mom drove me to the house, she told me I shouldn’t take their money that night. Startled, I asked her why.

She answered, “They’re going to the temple. It wouldn’t be right if they had to pay to go and perform sacred ordinances there.”

I thought it over and agreed. Seeing my hesitation, my mom added, “I know you’re frustrated with your homework and everything, but you’ll have Heavenly Father’s help if you do this service.” I was thankful for Mom’s encouraging words, but I was still doubtful.

That evening went unusually well. The children didn’t quarrel, and they helped me clean the playroom. I even got them to bed fairly early. Then I started doing my math homework. After taking several deep breaths, I tackled a few problems and found that I could solve them. Right before I finished the assignment, the couple got home.

When the wife handed me some money, I took my mother’s advice and told her to keep it. “You guys deserve to go to the temple for free,” I said. She thanked me and told me that it was hard to find babysitters on school nights.

I finished the rest of my algebra homework easily when I arrived home. But more than that, I felt truly content. The reality of miracles struck me that day. My mom’s words had come true. I did have the Lord’s help when I served. I know now that when we do what is right and do it with love, miracles can happen.

When I returned home to Chile after my mission, I felt confident. In fact, my next decisions seemed clear because I felt so connected to Heavenly Father. However, as I started attending college, meeting friends, and even dating someone, I found that listening to the Spirit and feeling the joy of the gospel grew increasingly difficult.
I prayed every night to the Father to feel again what I had felt on my mission. But I didn’t get an immediate response.
The answer came later when I read Alma’s words to his son Helaman: "I say unto you, that by small and simple things are great things brought to pass” (Alma 37:6).
I thought to myself, “What are the small and simple things that I’m not doing?”
I realized there were a lot of spiritual habits I hadn’t been prioritizing since my mission, and I needed to make a change.
Here are three small and simple practices that have helped me reconnect to the Spirit:
Studying, reading, and pondering this book had always improved my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. However, when I returned home, I slowly stopped the habit of scripture study I’d cultivated for two years. Sometimes, we incorrectly believe that attending church and saying half-hearted prayers will bring us the Spirit as quickly as we can get a meal on our doorstep from a food delivery app. But it’s not that simple!
Inviting and feeling the Spirit requires effort.
The Lord has said, “The Book of Mormon and the holy scriptures are given of me for your instruction” (Doctrine and Covenants 33:16). Daily study of the Book of Mormon reminds us of who we are and gives direction on how to live our lives to become truly happy. Sometimes other things get in the way of reading, but I have a strong testimony that when we choose to put God first by reading His word, even for a few minutes each day, He blesses us in all things.
Every young adult is different: some study, others work, and many do both, among other things. But regardless of your status or living situation, make time to study Come, Follow Me. Spending time discussing the gospel with friends or family (whether in person or virtually) creates a protective barrier in your home and enables an atmosphere of revelation. Satan knows this and will use distraction and other tools to prevent this.
However, I’ve witnessed how studying Come, Follow Me with my family and sharing our thoughts from Sunday School reduces contention in our home and invites the Spirit and the Savior’s light.
“Attend institute!” was the prophet’s invitation to all young adults who wish to draw near to the Savior and His grace. With my busy school schedule, adding even more classes didn’t seem sensible. But institute was just one hour a week to give to the Lord, and it became a spiritual refuge for me and my friends, especially on days when the world felt heavy.
I know that standing in holy places with holy people will help you connect to the Spirit.
Being a busy young adult in this world is hard. It requires diligence, patience, and action to stay focused on what matters most.
President Russell M. Nelson testified, “It will not be possible to survive spiritually without the guiding, directing, comforting, and constant influence of the Holy Ghost.”
It’s true! I felt so disconnected from the Spirit when I wasn’t taking time to connect with Him. Now I know that drawing closer to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ doesn’t have to be strenuous. It just takes simple actions—like daily prayer—to intentionally reach out to Them.
If you’re feeling distant from the Spirit, ask yourself, “What are those small and simple things that I am not doing?” He will help you know how you can keep your connection to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ strong and steady.

One of the students in my class described how she had taken the challenge to invite others to come unto Christ in a phone call to one of her non-LDS friends back home. When she asked how her friend was doing, her friend began to cry and said she was contemplating dropping out of college and going back home. She said she had a drinking problem, that she was drunk most of the time, and that she just felt like giving up. My student did not know, prior to calling her friend, that she was having so many problems.

My student shared Alma 26:27 with her friend. She explained that Ammon and his brothers had also become depressed about their situation and had considered giving up and returning home too, but then the Lord strengthened them. The Lord did not remove all of their obstacles, but He made them strong so they could overcome any difficulty they might face. My student invited her friend to pray about her situation and ask for strength so she could go on.

Her friend stopped crying and then said these important words: "I think God sent you to me today. You've made me want to keep going. I want to stop drinking. And I want to stay in school."

My student was teaching her friend a key doctrine of the gospel: that by listening to the promptings of the Holy Ghost, the strengthening power of Christ's Atonement can help us face problems that at first seem insurmountable. She invited her friend to action--to pray, to keep going, to never give up. And she explained the blessings that would come--God's strengthening influence--all in one very powerful telephone conversation.

“One of the most significant moments of my life came at my daughter-in-law’s funeral. I learned a lesson in faith from our son. He stood with his aching, empty arms reaching out to the coffin of his young wife and said, “This isn’t the way I thought it was going to be. But it’s all right because God’s principles suffice.”
The path upward from the valleys of such sorrows is not easy, but it is clear.
“He took the principles of the gospel and applied them. They work! They always do! That is the key to getting over whatever challenge or disappointment we meet in this life. If you do things the Lord’s way, whatever way it comes out is all right.
“The secret of getting through life is coming to know our Father in Heaven and his Son. If you don’t know the Lord and feel his power and influence, if you don’t feel the promptings of the Spirit, if you don’t know the Lord is your friend, then everything else is like building your house on sand. You don’t have a sure foundation.”
And how do you arrive at this sacred knowledge?
“You pray all of the time. I have profound respect for the Savior and our Heavenly Father and want to be close to them, but I have tried to train myself not to think they are on my level or put myself on theirs. When I get in a tight situation, there is a mental bending and bowing of my head as I seek God’s will, because I know how important it is to have his Spirit with me. I can honestly say that the worst mistakes I make are when I go charging off on my own, or lean on the arm of flesh, or get to feeling confident in my own experience or wisdom. Fortunately, the Lord is very patient with us while we learn, isn’t he?
“With the knowledge we have, we may mourn, but we need never despair. We have a little granddaughter in Seattle, Washington. There the daily rain keeps the sun and stars alike hidden much of the time, so she hasn’t really seen stars. We think there are lessons to learn from them; they are brighter in winter’s night, you know. I explained this to this little girl when we stood on a clear night looking into heaven. I smiled at her wonderment at first seeing stars crowd the nighttime.
“‘Are they there every time it gets dark, even if I don’t see them?’ she asked. I assured her they were, even behind the clouds.
“‘Then darkness isn’t so bad, is it? If you know the stars are there.’
“It has application to life, doesn’t it?”

Let me conclude with an intimate “Are you there?” experience. Sister Ashton and I live in downtown Salt Lake City. From our sixth floor condominium window, we have a full view of the Salt Lake Temple. We enjoy frequent views of the majestic structure, particularly when the sun is setting or at night when the lights are on.
A few years ago, Sister Ashton developed a sudden need to receive hospital attention. After taking her to be admitted, we prayed. Then I returned home and prayed privately. Worried about the suddenness of the medical problem, and thinking of the deep affection I have for her, I was not able to sleep.
After a restless hour or so, I got out of bed, walked to the living room, and looked at the temple. The lights on the outside of the temple are on all night. I remember well walking around the living room countless times looking at the temple and saying to myself with a bowed head and with unwavering faith, “I know He is there.” It was a kind of silent crying out for that reassurance and strength we have been discussing.
I have total confidence and faith in the wisdom and omniscience of a loving, merciful Heavenly Father. Please know He is there. I testify He is. He is a living, loving Father, and as the Prophet Joseph discovered, we can ask Him our innermost desires and He will not upbraid! Pray constantly for help, endurance, and understanding. God does answer our prayers.

Mom and Dad were thrilled when I was born. I was their only child and they had waited for seven years. When excited well-wishers came to the house to see the new baby, Mom held me up to the window inside the house and the onlookers viewed me from the front yard outside the house. No one was allowed into our home to welcome me and to hold me.

As I grew, we visited my grandmother often. She lived close by. I loved playing with cousins there. They could take their shoes and socks off and play in the grass and dirt. I could play, but only if my shoes remained on. My Mother insisted that my bare feet could not touch the ground. Alarmed with the flies at Grandma's house, Mom would shout at me "Don't let those flies touch you!" She was frightened by what their tiny feet might carry. She didn't like me touching door knobs or anything else others had touched. When it was time to leave, Mom would scrub my fingernails with a scrubbing brush until they would bleed. Mom initiated strict rules and I obeyed or I was beaten. I noticed as young as three years old that Mother acted differently than others. I didn't know why, but in my adulthood, her condition finally had a name and some of my questions were answered.

Mother developed OCD before I was born. She had an intense fear of germs and performed cleaning rituals to eliminate the fear. She viewed herself as germ-free. Everything and everyone else was contaminated. Mother's family knew something was wrong, but didn't know how to help her. In those days, OCD did not have a name or any kind of treatment. Thank goodness, today there are medications and behavior therapies to assist.

My dad was a fulltime National Guardsman. When he received a promotion, we moved from Driggs, Idaho to Idaho Falls and bought a new house. Dad focused his spare time on finishing our downstairs. I hoped the new home would help my mom change from her old ways. It didn't and life only got worse. Dad was tired of her compulsive behavior. He soon divorced Mom and moved out.

I thought my life had ended. I was seven years old and Mom had full custody. It was just Mom and me. She began working full time. Dad remarried and resided within our city. Mom's anxiety increased and so did her OCD. She scrubbed things at work, but most cleaning routines were performed within our home and yard.

Mom moved me to the downstairs bedroom, while my toys and most of my clothes remained with her. I was never allowed again onto the main floor of the house. I lived in the basement for the next nine years. Restrained by Mom's fears, I had no say or control. I was frightened and heartbroken in that dimly-lit basement.

Our house was connected to a one-car garage. I could enter my house only once a day by following a well-established pattern. I disrobed in the garage and Mom carried me down stairs to newspaper that I stood on while she scrubbed the stairs and stairway. When I was too big to carry, Mom allowed me to walk downstairs. After the stairs were cleaned, I could walk from the newspaper to the bathroom, bathe and dress following a certain routine. In my bedroom, I could touch only my light switch and two drawers of my dresser. In my double-sized bed, I could only touch the left-hand side. I didn't understand these rules, but I obeyed.

After Mom finished her rituals downstairs, she would climb to the top of the stairs and shout to me, "Turn off your light." I hated turning off my light! It was very dark. I worried about monsters finding me and I'd hide my head under the covers. I knew if I needed help, Mom would not respond. There was no interaction allowed until morning when Mom would choose my clothes and bring them downstairs with breakfast.

I questioned myself ... if I tried harder, if I were cleaner, if I were nicer, would Mom allow me to live on the main floor with her? I desperately wanted her to change. We never talked about it. Only occasionally did I dare ask her "to please change." She would quickly answer, "I will change tomorrow." The next day she'd be the same or worse. I was helpless, hopeless, and all alone.

The Lord provided me with good people along my path. A kind neighbor friend introduced me to Primary. I began attending with her. It was a happy setting and I looked forward to it every week! My Primary teacher taught me about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and that they loved me. That was survival information! It felt good, it sounded right and it provided much needed comfort. I'm grateful for that Primary teacher who week after week bore testimony of gospel truths. She didn't know I felt unloved and disvalued. She didn't know that Mom could not hug me because of my germs. She didn't know the vital impact of her words, but the Lord knew. He was there. He reminds us "[I] knoweth all things, for all things are present before mine eyes;" He knows our hardships. He knows our pain.

Also, in Primary I learned of prayer. "Pray always, and I will pour out my Spirit upon you, and great shall be your blessing." I began talking with Heavenly Father and sharing my fears. I asked him to save me from the basement monsters and later with maturity, I pleaded that I could escape Mom's compulsive behavior and demands. I felt the Lord near and I held on tightly to His hand. I had hope! I kept praying and waiting, praying and waiting.

I was fearful of Mom and knew I could tell no one about my home life. I knew I'd be punished if I told the "secret."

When school was out, Mom arranged for others to watch me at their homes while she worked. If no one was available, I would be left at my home, locked out of the house, as Mom left for work. I never had a key to open the door and the house was always locked. During the summer, Mom would bring me a sandwich on her lunch hour and I could drink from the garden hose. My bathroom was an empty tin can in the garage or a fast bike ride to the gas station. Reading Nancy Drew books, listening to my transistor radio, weeding the marigolds, watering the lawn occupied some of my time. The best times were spent riding my speedy, blue bike with friends. I have many fun memories!

My mother dated frequently and I'd stay the night with friends. A few families were active in the Church and one in particular demonstrated righteous patterns that I grew to love. For instance, every morning before breakfast was served, they knelt around their kitchen table for prayer. I cherished those moments and the spirit of family unity. Each time I bowed my head in that setting, I noticed the round braided rug we knelt on under their round wooden table. I remember that clearly and the feeling of hope I had for a future time with an eternal family that could kneel in prayer together. Was it possible? I know now that survivors of dysfunction can reverse the trend and start new patterns that follow the Savior. We are not stuck where we started.

In the garage with doors closed, I liked singing Primary songs. The lyrics would echo off the walls. It seemed extra voices sang with me. "I need my Heavenly Father to help me every day. He wants me to be happy and choose the righteous way. He wants me to be happy and choose the righteous way." Those songs helped me then and in the years ahead. Often a musical phrase would circle in my head and remind me of who I was and what I could become.

I remember a Beehive class that left a lasting impression. The topic was temple marriage. The teacher taught enthusiastically and was full of the Spirit. I left that class knowing there was only one way to marry and that's what I wanted. I held on to the Lord's hand.

My freshman year in high school, my family and I moved to Vancouver, Washington. I was trying to adjust to a new school, and I ached for my friends in Saratoga Springs, New York. I missed the nice big house we’d lived in there and its peaceful country setting. We were now living in a cramped apartment on a noisy street while my parents house-hunted. I wanted so badly to live in a house again. I wanted my own room, not one that I had to share with my little sister. I wanted the feeling of permanence that comes with living in your own house.

Just when Mom and Dad were narrowing down their choices and I was daydreaming about the wallpaper and frilly curtains I’d put in my new room, Dad was laid off. The small company he was working for was not doing well, and Dad was one of several employees to be let go. Buying a house was now out of the question. Finding a job became Dad’s urgent priority.

Christmas was quickly approaching, and I had never felt so depressed. It was at this time that the Young Women in my ward organized a service project. We would visit the battered-women’s shelter for 12 consecutive nights before Christmas.

On the first night, we drove to the shelter with Sister Harris, our Young Women president. I think we were all a little nervous. As the van pulled up in front of the old two-story house in a dilapidated neighborhood, I suddenly felt sorrow that women and children would be forced to flee to such a dismal place.

Once inside the bleak, chilly house, I didn’t feel any better. The faces we saw looked sad and dejected. All except the face of little Aisha. This beautiful baby girl never stopped smiling as she looked at each of us. We took turns cradling her in our arms, and her mother confided that the small scar on Aisha’s face was due to an injury inflicted by her father.

Another woman asked who we were. Sister Harris told her we were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and then bore her testimony of the Lord’s love and concern for each of his children.

We left a Christmas tree and decorations that night and took with us the good feelings that come when we show others we care.

On the nights that followed, we brought gifts donated by members of our ward—baskets with combs and brushes and toiletries for the women, toys and blankets for the children.

The drab living room looked a little less drab each night. We hung homemade stockings on the bare wall above an old television set and taped Christmas cards above the fireplace. The tiny lights on the tree reflected in the silver ornaments. It was actually beginning to look and feel like Christmas in that humble shelter.

On the 12th night we arrived with a turkey dinner and all the trimmings. My heart was touched when a ten-year-old boy cried out, “This is the best Christmas I ever had!”

Something else happened to me during those 12 nights of Christmas. I returned home to our apartment each night feeling so blessed. As I walked into our living room, I saw for the first time how warm and pretty it was. I felt the love that was there and the strong sense of security even during this difficult time. I was grateful that my home was a place of safety and refuge instead of one of violence and fear. I felt a new appreciation for my mom and dad. I no longer resented having to share a room with my little sister.

And I had to agree with the little boy at the shelter—it was the best Christmas I ever had.

I was afraid a lot.
I was afraid my dad would kill himself while driving drunk. I was afraid he’d kill someone else when he was driving drunk.
Late at night I would lie in my bed with all the lights out. I would wait and wait to hear his car pull in. I’d pray over and over, “Please help him get home safely. Please don’t let him hit anyone.”
In the morning I’d look at how the car was parked in the driveway. Sometimes it would be barely an inch from the house. Sometimes it would be over into the neighbor’s flowers.
I was afraid he’d embarrass me. He did. He’d wake up from sleeping off a drunk and not really be sober. He’d stumble out of the bedroom. He’d stink of beer. He’d say dumb things. I hated it.
My real friends still liked me. Still, it was embarrassing.
I was afraid my parents would get a divorce. Many times they would have fights when my dad drank. He had a black leather suitcase in his closet. He’d get it out and start packing his clothes. If it were daytime I’d run out of the house. One day I took my dad’s white pocketknife with me. I wanted to have something of his if he left.
Sometimes I was afraid my parents would not get a divorce. I was afraid they would keep living together and I would never have a home that was nice. I thought my mother and I could go live with my grandparents. It sounded so safe.
Fear
Your friend may worry that her dad will get into an accident while driving drunk.
She may be afraid her parents will divorce. Or she may be equally afraid this painful way of living will go on forever.
She fears that her dad may embarrass her with inappropriate behavior.
She’s afraid no one will like her because of her father’s actions.
Of these fears only the last one is within your control. Make very sure your friend knows that you love and respect her. Your friendship can help reduce the corrosive effects of all the other fears.
Fear
Your life is full of fears—fear of a drunken accident, fear of divorce, fear of humiliation—the list seems endless.
I wish I could give you an easy formula for banishing fear, but I can’t. For one thing, many of your fears are well grounded.
I can only give you two bits of advice. First, when you are afraid, pray. Our Father in Heaven knows your fears and can help you master them.
Second, let some trusted adult counselor help you distinguish between real dangers and imaginary ones. With so many real things to fear, there is no room for phantoms.

Almost all of us have seen a battlefield portrayed in a film or read the description in a story. Over the din of explosions and the shouts of soldiers, there comes a cry, “Man down!”

When that cry sounds, faithful fellow soldiers will move toward the sound. Another soldier or a medic will ignore danger and move to the injured comrade. And the man down will know that help will come. Whatever the risk, someone will run low or crawl to get there in time to protect and give aid. That is true in every band of men joined in a difficult and dangerous mission which they are determined to fulfill at any sacrifice. The histories of such groups are full of stories of those loyal men who were determined that no man would be left behind.
Here is one instance from an official account. During fighting in Somalia in October of 1993, two United States Army Rangers in a helicopter during the firefight learned that two other helicopters near them had fallen to the earth. The two rangers, in their relative safety aloft, learned by radio that no ground forces were available to rescue one of the downed aircrews. Growing numbers of the enemy were closing in on the crash site.
The two men watching from above volunteered to go down to the ground (the words they used on the radio were to “be inserted”) to protect their critically wounded comrades. Their request was denied because the situation was so dangerous. They asked a second time. Permission was again denied. Only after their third request were they put down on the ground.
Armed only with their personal weapons, they fought their way to the crashed helicopter and the injured fliers. They moved through intense small arms fire as enemies converged on the crash site. They pulled the wounded from the wreckage. They put themselves in a perimeter around the wounded, placing themselves in the most dangerous positions. They protected their comrades until their ammunition was depleted and they were fatally wounded. Their bravery and their sacrifice saved the life of a pilot who would have been lost.
They were each awarded posthumously the Medal of Honor, their nation’s highest recognition for bravery in the face of an armed enemy. The citation reads that what they did was “above and beyond the call of duty.”
But I wonder if they saw it that way as they moved to the downed airmen. Out of loyalty they felt a duty to stand by their fellow soldiers, whatever the cost. The courage to act and their selfless service came from feeling that they were responsible for the lives, the happiness, and the safety of comrades.
Such a feeling of responsibility for others is at the heart of faithful priesthood service. Our comrades are being wounded in the spiritual conflict around us. So are the people we are called to serve and protect from harm. Spiritual wounds are not easily visible, except with inspired eyes. But bishops, branch presidents, and mission presidents sitting before fellow disciples of the Savior can see the wounded and the wounds.
It has happened for years and across the earth. I remember as a bishop looking out at the face and the posture of a young man of the priesthood and having the thought come to my mind so clearly that it seemed audible: “I need to see him—and soon. Something is happening. He needs help.”
I would never put off such an impression because I had learned that the wounds of sin are often not felt at first by the one being hurt. Satan seems sometimes to inject something to deaden the spiritual pain while inflicting the wound. Unless something happens soon to begin repentance, the wound can worsen and widen.
Consequently, as a priesthood holder responsible for the spiritual survival of some of Heavenly Father’s children, you will then move to help without waiting for a cry, “Man down!” Even a best friend or other leaders or parents may not see what you have seen.
You may have been the only one to sense by inspiration the warning cry. The others may feel, as you will be tempted to think, “Maybe the trouble I thought I saw is just my imagination. What right do I have to judge another? It’s not my responsibility. I’ll leave it alone until he asks for help.”
Only an authorized judge in Israel is given the power and the responsibility to verify that there is a serious wound, to explore it, and then, under inspiration from God, to prescribe the necessary treatment for healing to begin. Yet you are under covenant to go to a spiritually wounded child of God. You are responsible to be brave enough and bold enough not to turn away.
I need to explain, as best I can, at least two things. First, why do you have a responsibility to move to help your wounded friend? And, second, how do you meet that responsibility?
First, you are under covenant, as has been made clear to you, that when you accepted the trust from God to receive the priesthood, you accepted a responsibility for whatever you might do or fail to do for the salvation of others, however difficult and dangerous that might appear to be for you.
There are countless examples of priesthood holders who shouldered that grave responsibility as you and I must. This is how Jacob in the Book of Mormon described his sacred trust when he moved in difficult circumstances to give aid: “Now, my beloved brethren, I, Jacob, according to the responsibility which I am under to God, to magnify mine office with soberness, and that I might rid my garments of your sins, I come up into the temple this day that I might declare unto you the word of God.”
Now, you might object that Jacob was a prophet and you are not. But your office, whatever it is in the priesthood, brings with it an obligation to “lift up the hands which hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees” of those around you. You are the Lord’s servant covenanted to do for others, as best you can, what He would do.
Your great opportunity and your responsibility are described in Ecclesiastes:
“Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour.
“For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up.”
From that, you will understand the true and sobering words from Joseph Smith: “None but fools will trifle with the souls of men.” As Jacob believed, the woe of any fallen man or woman he could have helped and did not would become his own sorrow. Your happiness and that of those you are called to serve as a priesthood holder are bound together.
Now we come to the question of how best to help those you are called to serve and rescue. That will depend on your capacities and on the nature of your priesthood relationship to the person who is in spiritual peril. Let me give three cases which may be your opportunity at times in your priesthood service.
Let’s start when you are an inexperienced junior companion, a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood assigned with a seasoned companion to visit a young family. Before preparing for the visit, you will pray for strength and inspiration to see their needs and know what help you could give. If you can, you will have that prayer with your companion, naming those you will visit. As you pray, your heart will be drawn out to them personally and to God. You and your companion will agree on what you hope to accomplish. You will work out a plan for what you will do.
Whatever the plan, you will watch and listen with great intensity and humility during the visit. You are young and inexperienced. But the Lord knows their spiritual state and their needs perfectly. He loves them. And because you know He sends you to act for Him, you can have faith that you can sense their needs and what you can do to meet your charge to help. It will come as you visit face-to-face in their home. That is why you have this priesthood charge in the Doctrine and Covenants: “Visit the house of each member, and exhort them to pray vocally and in secret and attend to all family duties.”
And then you have an added charge which takes even greater discernment:
“The teacher’s duty is to watch over the church always, and be with and strengthen them;
“And see that there is no iniquity in the church, neither hardness with each other, neither lying, backbiting, nor evil speaking;
“And see that the church meet together often, and also see that all the members do their duty.”
You and your companion will rarely receive inspiration to know the details of the degree to which they are meeting that standard. But I can promise you from experience that you will be given the gift to know what is well with them. And from that you will be able to encourage them. There is another promise I can make: you and your companion will be inspired to know what changes they could make to begin the spiritual healing they need. The words of what you are charged to have happen in their lives will almost certainly contain some of the most important changes the Lord would have them make.
If your companion feels an impression to urge change, watch what he does. You will likely be surprised at the way the Spirit guides him to speak. There will be the sound of love in his voice. He will find a way to tie the needed change with a blessing that will follow. If it is the father or mother who needs to make a change, he may show how it would lead to happiness for the children. He will describe the change as a move away from unhappiness to a better and safer place.
Your contribution during the visit may seem to you small, but it can be more powerful than you may think possible. You will show by your face and manner that you care for the people. They will see that your love for them and the Lord makes you unafraid. And you will be bold enough to bear your testimony to truth. Your humble, simple, and perhaps brief testimony may touch the heart of a person more easily than that of your more experienced companion. I have seen it happen.
Whatever part you play in that priesthood visit, your desire to go to the people for the Lord to help them will bring at least two blessings. First, you will feel the love of God for the people you visit. And, second, you will feel the Savior’s gratitude for your desire to give the help the Savior knew they needed.
He sent you to them because He trusted that you would go feeling responsible to urge them toward Him and toward happiness.
As you grow a little older, there is another opportunity which will come to you in priesthood service. You will come to know your fellow quorum members well. You may have played basketball or football or shared some youth activities and service projects. With some you will have become close friends.
You will have come to recognize when they are happy and when they are sad. Neither of you may be in a position of authority in the quorum. But you will feel responsible for your fellow member in the priesthood. He may confide in you that he is beginning to break a commandment which you know will do him spiritual harm. He may ask for advice because he trusts you.
I can tell you from experience that if you succeed in influencing him away from a dangerous path, you will never forget the joy which came from being his true friend. If you do not succeed, I promise that when his grief and sadness come, as they will, you will feel his pain as if it were your own. Yet if you tried to help, you will still be his friend. And, in fact, for years he may talk with you about what good things there might have been and how grateful he is that you cared enough to try. You will comfort him then and invite him again, as you did in your youth, to come back to the happiness which the Atonement still makes possible for him.
Now, later in your life you will be a father—a priesthood father. What you have learned in your priesthood service as you helped others away from sadness and toward happiness will give you the power you will need and want. Years of being responsible for the souls of men will prepare you for helping and protecting your family, whom you will love more than you can imagine in your youth. You will know how to lead them with priesthood power to safety.
My prayer is that you will have joy in your priesthood service throughout your life and forever. I pray that you will develop the bravery and love for Heavenly Father’s children that led the sons of Mosiah to plead for the chance to face death and danger to take the gospel to a hardened people. Their desire and their bravery came from feeling responsible for the eternal happiness of strangers in danger of eternal misery.
May we have a part of the desire which Jehovah had, in the world before this one, when He asked to come down from the realms of glory to serve us and give His life for us. He asked His Father, “Send me.”
I testify that you were called of God and you are sent to serve His children. He wants that no one be left behind. President Monson holds the keys of the priesthood in all the earth. God will give you inspiration and strength to meet your charge to help His children find their way to the happiness made possible by the Atonement of Jesus Christ. I so testify to you in the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

When David and I served a mission in São Paulo, Brazil, my Portuguese was limited at best. My testimony sounded something like, “You nice, me happy, gospel true.”

We gave many stake conference talks, and I always had my same trusty, dog-eared Portuguese talk ready to read. Then one Sunday morning, while sitting on the stand at a stake conference and preparing to step to the podium and read that talk, I was suddenly aware of a strong spiritual prompting. It went something like this: “Leave your talk on your seat and speak from the heart.” Oh dear!

I became all trembly and twittery! My focus on the Lord sharpened considerably! I turned my hope, thoughts, and feelings over to Heavenly Father, pointedly pleading for help in the name of His Son. I wobbled to the podium, stared out at the audience, and opened my mouth. My verb endings were surely mangled, and no doubt my pronunciation hurt every ear. As I directly focused and concentrated on the Savior’s love and mercy, I was able to share it. The Spirit used those broken Portuguese sentences to convey truth. Many hugs and tears came from members after the meeting.

The Lord will take our earnest, though ­meager, offering—be it two small fish and a few small barley loaves13 or weak Portuguese or a sincere though awkward attempt to mend a ­relationship—and turn it into a nourishing meal if we come with faith and focus to Him for help.

Another incident that has touched my life recently happened when a young man with a terminal illness passed away. He knew that his illness would first take away his manual dexterity and his ability to walk, then its progression would take his ability to speak, and finally his respiratory system would cease to function. But he also had faith that families are forever. With this knowledge, he spoke to each of his children through video recordings for use when he was gone. He produced recordings to be given to his sons and daughters at important, sacred occasions in their lives, such as baptisms, priesthood ordinations, and weddings. He spoke to them with the tender love of a father who knew that while his family was forever, for a time he would not physically be able to be with them, but spiritually he would never leave their side.

God expresses his love for us by providing the guidance we need to progress and reach our potential. Perhaps a simple story will illustrate this point. Recently, a young man purchased a used computer but could not get it to work properly. Soon he became discouraged. His temper grew short and he threatened the inanimate object with painful destruction unless its performance improved. A wise father intervened and took his son to a local vendor, where they obtained an instruction manual. After all, who would know more about a complex computer than the person or company that created it? Who would know most about its capacity and potential? Who would better know the safeguards required to avoid damaging or ruining this fine instrument? Soon the boy enjoyed the full potential of his computer by working within the guidelines given in the instruction book provided by its creator.

I would like to say thank you from the bottom of my heart for a magazine that brought two of the best friends together. Twelve years ago I wrote to Feedback about a certain story in the New Era. Consequently I received a letter from a girl in Salt Lake City, and we have been writing ever since. The best news is that in May of 1992, Lori Wall and I met for the first time. I was a bit anxious about meeting her, but when we met it was as if we had known each other all our lives. We have been through a lot together and have grown spiritually stronger. She has seen me through the birth of my child, and I have seen her through her mission and marriage. Even though we were thousands of miles apart, our love stretched. And I have the New Era to thank for a special friend and an eternal sister.
Petra MillsOrange, New South Wales, Australia

Years ago I read a Time magazine article that reported the discovery of a letter, supposedly written by Martin Harris, that conflicted with Joseph Smith’s account of finding the Book of Mormon plates.14
A few members left the Church because of the document.15
Sadly, they left too quickly. Months later experts discovered (and the forger confessed) that the letter was a complete deception.16 You may understandably question what you hear on the news, but you need never doubt the testimony of God’s prophets.