Gospel Story Finder

Church was great, wasn’t it?
Now what should we do?
We could write letters to Grandpa or visit Sister Gomez. Or is there someone else we could help?
On the way to church, I saw people who looked like they didn’t have homes.
Can we give something to them?
Good idea!
I’ll find a list of donations the homeless shelter suggests. Let’s see what we have at home.
Can we make some muffins to give to them too?
You bet.
A little while later …
Hi! We wanted to give you these.
They have lots of good stuff in them—even muffins!
Thank you!
God bless you.
I’m glad we helped people today.
Me too!
Thanks to Cayden and Ammon G. for sharing their story with us. And sharing their great example!

On March 5, 2011, my wife and I, our son, Damian, and his wife, Gabriela, and a friend traveled from Salt Lake City to the Manti Utah Temple. One of Damian's former missionary companions had asked me to perform his sealing. We had a map to show us how to get there. Because of carelessness we did not notice a small sign that indicated a detour on the way. After traveling for approximately an hour, we read the name of a city. Our son looked at the map and, very worried, he told us we had totally gone the wrong way.
Very discouraged, desperate, and ashamed, I told my wife to call the temple president to tell him what had happened and have him assign another sealer to perform the marriage. After my wife had given him my message, President Ed J. Pinegar said the following, "We love you. Don't worry about the delay. We sustain you, we are with you, and we are going to wait for you." We arrived at the beautiful, historic Manti Temple and, in spite of the delay we were all able to rejoice in that very special event.

Later, my wife made a very interesting comment. She said that hearing the words of President Pinegar, it was as if she had heard the voice of our Heavenly Father saying: "I love you, I sustain you, I am with you. Don't give up. Repent and persevere on the path I have shown you. That way, I promise you that we will see each other again in our heavenly home."

I felt so badly for arriving late, but I thank my Heavenly Father, who inspired President Pinegar to say the words he said to us, especially to me, which caused me to persevere in spite of the difficulties in order to finally reach our objective. Being able to do so not only benefitted our lives but also those of other people.

by Kent Howcroft
Like most priests quorums, the priests of the American Fork 25th Ward, American Fork Utah North Stake, like to have fun on a super activity each summer. This year we decided to expand the activity to include a service project as well. And it turned out that the service project was the highlight of the trip!
We covered a need for help in constructing a prefabricated building in Many Farms, Arizona, a town of 5,000 in the Four Corners area where the borders of Utah, Arizona, New Mexico, and Colorado meet. Many Farms is on the Navajo Indian Reservation.
The first night of our activity, a recently returned missionary shared some of his experiences with us in a fireside. He had seen the Spirit touch the lives of people in Argentina, and his testimony touched us. One of our priests said he felt more than ever that he wanted to prepare for a mission.
The next morning we had a rafting competition in a nearby reservoir and went swimming to cool off. Then it was off to Many Farms, where we met the full-time missionaries working in the area. Our priests got to see firsthand what life in the mission field is like. They had an opportunity to work with the missionaries and to hear the conversion story of Elder Powell, a missionary from New York.
Then we started work on the building. As leaders, we had been concerned that the desert heat might make conditions unbearable. But we were blessed with rain and cool, cloudy weather, and we were able to finish the project on time. The work went quickly, and we all enjoyed doing something to help someone else. It was a super activity we will never forget.

Let me conclude with a little parable. Have you ever heard the parable of the eagle? It’s a classic. It seems a certain man went through the forest seeking any bird of interest he might find. He caught a young eagle, brought it home and put it among his fowls and ducks and turkeys and gave it chicken’s food to eat even though it was an eagle, the king of the birds.

Five years later a naturalist came to see him and after passing through his garden said, “That bird is an eagle, not a chicken.”

“Yes,” said the owner, “But I have trained it to be a chicken. It is no longer an eagle. It is a chicken, even though it measures fifteen feet from tip to tip of its wings.”

“No,” said the naturalist. “It is an eagle still; it has the heart of an eagle and I will make it soar high up to the heavens.”

“No,” said the owner, “it is a chicken, and it will never fly.”

They agreed to test it. The naturalist picked up the eagle. “Thou dost belong to the sky and not to this earth; stretch forth thy wings and fly.” The eagle turned this way and that and, then, looking down, saw the chickens eating their food and down he jumped.

The owner said, “I told you it was a chicken.”

“No,” said the naturalist, “it is an eagle. Give it another chance tomorrow.”

So the next day he took it to the top of the house and said, “Eagle, thou art an eagle; stretch forth thy wings and fly.” But again the eagle, seeing the chickens feeding, jumped down and fed with them.

Then the owner said, “I told you it was a chicken.”

“No,” asserted the naturalist, “it is an eagle and it still has the heart of an eagle. Only give it one more chance, and I will make it fly tomorrow.”

The next morning he rose early and took the eagle outside the city, away from the houses, to the foot of a high mountain. The sun was just rising, gilding the top of the mountain with gold, and every crag was glistening in the joy of that beautiful morning.

He picked up the eagle and said to it, “Eagle, thou art an eagle. Thou dost belong to the sky and not to this earth. Stretch forth thy wings and fly.” The eagle looked around and trembled as if new life were coming to it. But it did not fly. The naturalist then made it look straight at the sun. Suddenly it stretched out its wings and, with the screech of an eagle, it flew.

I was first exposed to pornography at age 13. I found it accidentally on social media, not knowing what it was and not understanding it. I went from unintentional exposure and curiosity to intentionally seeking it out.
At that time, my leaders’ messages about pornography seemed to be saying that it was something only boys struggled with. This left me feeling a lot of shame. I thought I’d never be able to tell anyone about my struggle. I knew about Jesus Christ’s Atonement, but because I thought that I was the only girl with this struggle, I felt like my situation was out of the Savior’s reach. I felt like the exception.
During those years, in places like seminary or devotionals—wherever the Spirit was present—I often felt prompted to set up a meeting with my bishop. For so long, what kept me from doing this was the idea that I had a reputation to uphold as a good kid from an active family. I thought he would see me for who I was—and I didn’t believe that person was lovable. I thought I would be met with instant punishment.
When I finally set up that meeting, it went very differently from how I expected. Instead of handing out punishment, my bishop told me: “You are still a daughter of God. You are still just as loved, and you are still just as valued.”
My bishop told me: “You are still a daughter of God. You are still just as loved, and you are still just as valued.”
I remember feeling overwhelmed with love. That was the first time I had felt the power of the Savior’s Atonement so strongly in my life. Looking back, I understand why those words my bishop said were so important.
When you’re struggling with pornography, you go through a cycle of shame. For me, I would feel out of touch with my own identity and then use pornography to deal with those negative emotions. Then I would feel shame and isolate myself from others, and the cycle would repeat.
For so long, I tried to rely on my own willpower to “just stop.” But I couldn’t do it on my own. My bishop helped me remember my identity—that I am a beloved daughter of God. As I met with him and remembered that truth, I started to make genuine progress.
Understanding God’s nature also helped me understand Satan and his tools and how they work in direct opposition to God. One of Satan’s most powerful tools is shame, which is different from guilt or “godly sorrow” (2 Corinthians 7:10). When you feel guilt, you realize you’ve made a mistake. But shame links the negative feelings you have about yourself when you sin to your identity, like you are those feelings.
Satan wanted me to believe that I could overcome this challenge on my own. This lie was something that kept me from talking to my bishop about my struggle with pornography. I felt like I couldn’t meet with him until I could say it was something I had struggled with in the past. Satan uses your individual weaknesses to make you feel unworthy to seek the Savior’s healing power.
I learned that Satan works on us when we’re isolated, so our best defense is connection. Sometimes it’s as simple as reaching out to others and spending meaningful time with good friends. Connecting with Heavenly Father, with yourself, and with others (especially with those who see you the way Heavenly Father does) is the best way to remember your true identity: a valued child of God.

When I was 18 I was the first in my family to find the restored gospel. After my baptism I began to really understand how the gospel could help my family.
As a result of these feelings, I started to do family history and my love for my ancestors grew as I worked and exercised my faith to find them. My desire to find them was so strong that on several occasions I traveled to my ancestors’ places of origin. Each trip brought new experiences, and my heart was turned to my ancestors (see Mal. 4:5–6).
Some time later I was called to serve as a family history consultant in my ward. My heart began to expand, and I began to love the ancestors of each person in my ward. As I searched parishes, archives, and libraries, I came to better understand the purpose of redeeming the dead.
Once I had my family history computer disk in my hands, I realized that the most important part of the work was still missing. I needed to go to the temple and provide my family beyond the veil with the ordinances that would enable them to be saved and join my family’s generations for eternity.
I was able to go to the temple when I went on my mission to Cochabamba, Bolivia. I began preaching the gospel in October 2000. A few months later my companion and I visited the temple with the youth from the ward where we were serving. I took my disk and was able to provide 599 names for ordinance work.
While I served as witness, my companion baptized the young people on behalf of my ancestors. What great joy I felt. The Spirit was with me, testifying of the truthfulness of what we were doing. I could feel my ancestors’ happiness and gratitude.
But there were other ordinances that still needed to be done. Because there were so many names, I turned them over to the temple. But I kept the names of my great-grandparents and their children, and later that month my companion and I, with the help of other missionaries, performed the work for them.
I am grateful to my Heavenly Father because, although I was far from my country and perhaps thought that I would baptize only the living, I was also able to participate in the work of redeeming the dead.
I am still trying to bring more souls to Christ and encouraging others to seek out their ancestors. I love this work, and I know that it is true and that Jesus Christ lives and loves us.

I want to thank each of you—the translators and all those who help publish the Liahona. It is because of you that I have the blessing of holding the words of our prophets and the General Authorities in my hands.
I was baptized as a child but was lost to the Church for a long time. When I heard Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles (in October 2004 general conference), he helped me believe that the Savior made it possible for me to be redeemed from my sins. I have experienced that change of heart spoken of by Alma, and my joy is complete.Araceli Arroyo Romero, Mexico

This question tasted especially bitter during the tougher seasons of life. Like when I experienced medical problems and hospital visits instead of the good health I prayed for. Or when I struggled with feelings of loneliness while watching friends and siblings find companionship. Even though I had plenty to be grateful for, questions about absent blessings remained heavy in my heart. Where was the simple “ask and receive” relationship the scriptures promised? During one period of time in particular, I felt especially betrayed by God. I found myself questioning if the scriptures were true, and if it was worth it to keep going to church and remain temple worthy.

I realized that I had a decision to make.

I would be lying if I said that I just decided to be faithful and that “gospel grit” alone got me through. The truth is that I was fortunate to have supportive friends and family members who encouraged my faith, even when they weren’t aware that I was struggling. I was lucky that my employment was a faith-tolerant atmosphere instead of a toxic one. And I was blessed with callings that helped me remain involved in my ward without being overwhelming. My heart aches for people who don’t have a similar combination of positive circumstances to help them get through periods of doubt. With all this help and a desire in my heart to understand the truth about God, I decided to remain active in the Church, even though it was painful at times.

Over time, I learned an important lesson: God had created me with two hands, each capable of holding something at the same time. Spiritually speaking, just because I had “picked up” a doubt or question in one hand didn’t mean that I had to let go of all the gospel truths I held in my other hand. It often felt like I was metaphorically holding on to the iron rod and pressing forward while dragging these questions behind me. But I didn’t really see an alternative. I didn’t want to ignore the questions I had, and I also couldn’t deny the spiritual truths I already knew. So, although it was exhausting, I found ways to honor both parts of my feelings.

For example, when Sunday Church meetings seemed incredibly draining, I decided to stay only long enough to take the sacrament, committing that I would always show up at least for that ordinance. When scripture study became a source of frustration, I decided to just read Psalms or other verses that were comforting to my soul. And please don’t get me wrong—I’m not suggesting that we adopt these as longtime habits or look for reasons to excuse ourselves from what prophets and apostles have recommended. But this allowed me, during that particular season, to remain close to God while exploring my questions with an open heart. The whole time, I pleaded in prayer for increased understanding.

Time passed. I got better at gripping the iron rod more tightly while holding my doubts more loosely. Church, scripture study, and prayer became easier to participate in once more. And eventually, a couple of specific life events helped lead me to the answer I was searching for.

The first event was an intense health challenge, including long periods where I struggled to digest meals, and food seemed like an enemy I was forced to live with each day. It was an extremely frustrating situation. Little did I know that this trial would help me recognize a precious truth. The second event that helped me discover my long-awaited answer was hearing a Church leader invite us to study the scriptures topically. As I thought about which topic to study, I felt impressed to study food in the scriptures.

As I used the Topical Guide to read every verse about food that I could find, I was led to Matthew 7—one of the chapters with the “ask and receive” promise that had always seemed so confusing. But this time, I was reading these verses with food and nutrition in mind. Verses 9–11 say:
“Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone?
“Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent?
“If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?”

I thought about how those verses describe God as a giver of nourishment. And then it dawned on me. All my life, I had read the “ask and receive” promise with a modern mindset. As I read about the child asking for a fish, I pictured my friend’s daughter begging for a pet puppy. But these verses aren’t talking about childish wants. They’re talking about essential nourishment—bread and fish, sources of food. These verses aren’t telling us that God will give us whatever we want and ask Him for. They are teaching us that God will give us whatever we need and ask Him for. He will always nourish His children, strengthening them enough to face the challenges that come their way.

Now I see that Matthew 7 describes God as a giver of nourishment. He will give us not what we want and ask for but what we need and ask for.

After I made that connection, Matthew 7 finally fit in perfectly with my understanding of God and His plan of happiness. I have come to see that when the scriptures invite us to knock and promise that a door will be opened, the doorway they are talking about is not a magical portal to an easier life. Instead, it’s more like a doorway to a roadside soup kitchen, which will appear wherever we are along our mortal journey. If we enter that doorway, we will find the Bread of Life and Living Water, He who provided fish for His disciples and promises us an eventual land of milk and honey.

Years ago, Matthew 7 was a source of pain and confusion. But today, those same verses are a source of joy. Not only do they remind me of what I’ve learned about the nourishment that God and Jesus offer, but they also remind me of what I’ve learned about grappling with gospel questions.

I still have unanswered gospel questions. And you know what? I bet I will throughout the rest of my life. But as I carry those questions, I will never give up holding on to what I know is true. I trust now more than ever that God will reveal His answers when we are prepared to receive them—either collectively as a Church or individually as His children. And most of all, I hope we can be compassionate to those around us who are struggling.

If you are struggling, don’t give up hope. Answers will come. One day, we will see all promises fulfilled. I look forward to the time described in Revelation 21:4, which says, “God shall wipe away all tears from [our] eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.”

“You’re tagged,” Macsen Viehweg yells. Rebecca Ray’s feet slide out from under her, and she grabs at the nearest person for support, starting a chain reaction of bodies falling down into the irrigation ditch. They all laugh good-naturedly as best friends do. Just days before, many of these friends were only names on a family group sheet. Now the word cousin has taken on new meaning to the Ray family teens.
“We had so much fun,” recalls Melanie Soelberg from Mesa, Arizona. “I love being with my family. It was so cool to get to know all my cousins.”
Each year Melanie’s grandparents, Oakley and Janet Ray of the Mesa First Ward, Mesa North Arizona Stake, try to get the families of their 10 children together, but this year was special because only the youth from 12 to 18 were invited. “Before, the younger children would play around us, and the adults would visit, but we weren’t getting as close to our teenagers as we wanted to,” says Grandma Ray.
So they decided to hold an “Especially for Rays” reunion at their daughter’s home in Weiser, Idaho, and sent each teenager an invitation with a list of 10 activity ideas to rank in order of preference. Then grandchildren ShaRee and Chad Walker, of the Weiser First Ward, tallied the results and organized four days of fun, excitement, and spirituality for the group.
Each morning began with a devotional. “Two of our uncles are seminary teachers, so the lessons were great. One morning we talked about how we must continually work at being our best because Satan is trying so hard to turn us away from the things that are the most important,” says ShaRee. “My favorite part was discussing gospel principles with each other and being taught by people we loved and respected.”
While the devotionals focused on spiritual matters, the days’ remaining activities kept the teens at a fast pace: horseback riding, floating down the Weiser River, playing tag football in a water-soaked field, going on scavenger hunts, and enjoying each other’s company.
Fun and games weren’t the only activities, however. The Rays wanted their grandchildren to experience the joy of service, so one day the youth went to a ward member’s ranch, where they branded and vaccinated sheep. “Although it was a service project for us, they were really the ones doing the service by letting all of us come and help,” says ShaRee.
“All the older cousins made a real effort to include the younger ones during this project,” says Melanie, one of the city slickers. “We had to hold the sheep so tight that we were really sore afterward, so we sat in a big circle and gave each other back rubs! The whole four days were like that. We were always looking out for each other.”
The one recurring memory of each participant is the love and respect they developed for each other. “The great thing was learning the strengths of all our cousins,” says Amy Soelberg. “One cousin read her scriptures and prayed every night and morning without fail. Now, whenever I’m tired or want to sleep in, I think about her. I pray that by following her example I can become more like her.”
Examples are not in short supply in the Ray family. “The highlight of it all was our grandparents,” says Chad. “Their devotional made us realize how lucky we are to be members of the Church and to be part of the Ray family. They told each one of us what a special part we play in the family and in the world. My grandparents are the best role models I could have.”
And the chain of role models continues as four of the participants received mission calls. One cousin just left for Panama City, Panama, and the other three will be at the Missionary Training Center together this summer.
Plans are already being made for the next “Especially for Rays” reunion. “I can’t wait to turn 12 and be able to go,” says Jenica Soelberg.
In fact, every eligible grandchild is looking forward to the next teen reunion, where best friends will have four fun-filled days together again. “I’ve always said I wanted cousin to be my grandchildren’s favorite word,” says Grandma Ray, “and I believe the Lord inspired us to help make that happen.”
by Emily Wing

Allow me to share a personal experience that played out over a period of forty-four years.

When I was a first-grader in a Catholic school in the Philippines, they adopted a Chinese immersion class. It is similar to what many schools in Utah have. I remember my teacher well. She looked Asian and spoke Mandarin. So, in my seven-year-old mind, I concluded that she was Chinese and therefore from China. She taught us mathematics and a few Chinese songs. She taught us how to read and write Chinese characters. She also taught us how to speak. To help us learn to pronounce the Chinese characters correctly, she taught us how to use a pronunciation guide called BoPoMoFo. That is my introduction to the basics of the Mandarin language.

Fast forward forty-four years later in 2016. We were called to serve as mission president and companion in the Taiwan Taichung Mission. Please understand that neither Grace nor I speak Mandarin nor served Mandarin-speaking missions when we were young. So, imagine our surprise and anxiety. After a few weeks of being in Taiwan, I made some fascinating discoveries.

First. I grew up with some familiarity with the Fukienese language. It is one of the Chinese languages from the province of Fujian. My parents and other relatives spoke it fluently, so I picked up some of it as well. Although Mandarin is the primary language spoken in Taiwan, the older generation also spoke Taiwanese. I discovered that Taiwanese is very similar to Fukienese. So, I was able to strike up simple conversations in Fukienese with and to the delight of the elderly population.

Second. One day I heard a Chinese song playing on the radio that sounded very familiar to me. I realized that it was one of the songs that my Chinese teacher taught us. After further investigation, I discovered that all the songs she taught us were popular and well-loved folk songs of Taiwan.

Third. Remember BoPoMoFo the phonetic guide my Chinese teacher taught us? I discovered that BoPoMoFo is used almost exclusively in Taiwan and not in China. Even the local Taiwanese missionaries that served with us were astonished that I knew BoPoMoFo.

So, after forty-four years I found out that my teacher was actually from Taiwan and not from China. Imagine how these discoveries endeared me even more to the country and the wonderful Taiwanese people. It had such a profound influence in my life and my service that later on, I started referring to myself as “Yiban Taiwanren” or- half-Taiwanese.

A raindrop splattered suddenly on the page, smearing the street name and apartment house number. The remaining hurriedly written lines in the tracting book translated as “check the Yugoslavian lady in the first apartment on the right.” Well, I thought, a quick introduction at the door will do, minus the Book of Mormon explanation. She probably won’t be interested anyway. This day has really been cold and drab, like the rain seeping through my trench coat.
My new companion’s reluctance made it my turn once again to give the missionary introduction. I was too tired and cold and impatient to offer him any words of encouragement. As we approached the apartment-house entrance, I shifted the knapsack from one shoulder to the other. The two German copies of the Book of Mormon in the bottom of the knapsack, which my companion had placed there that morning against my recommendation, were weighing on my back.
My personal reluctance to speak about the Book of Mormon in our initial meetings with people and to carry German copies of the book was based on a rationalization: we didn’t have a translation of the Book of Mormon which the majority of Yugoslavian workers temporarily living in Germany could read. The native tongue for most of these Yugoslavian workers was Serbocroatian. How could they gain for themselves a testimony of something they couldn’t understand? How could they “receive these things,” as is admonished by Moroni, if the pages appeared to them as undecipherable? True, some could read German, but the majority were not comfortable with that language.
Even so, my companion and I walked up the steps to the apartment house. As we turned to knock on the door, we noticed a lady making her way up a winding cement staircase from the basement, her arms around a large tub of freshly hand-laundered clothes. The calluses on her gnarled hands contrasted sharply with the fair complexion of her face and her jet-black hair which was pulled back neatly under a brightly colored scarf.
I stepped away slowly from the apartment door and spoke to her. After acknowledging that we were missionaries, I remarked halfheartedly that we could come back later since the hour was so late. Yet, she invited us in to her apartment.
We went in, and I quickly gave a shortened version of the first discussion, talking about Joseph Smith, the First Vision, and the Book of Mormon. I followed with a testimony of the truthfulness of what I had just said and then asked if she would like to know more, expecting of course that she would say no and ask us to leave. Instead, she asked whether we had a copy of the Book of Mormon she could look at. My companion quickly took out one of the German copies from the knapsack which had been poking me in the back all day. He wryly smiled, as if to say, “I told you so!”
I extended the book toward her and asked if she read German. She said no. I began to pull the book away, explaining that we unfortunately didn’t have a copy she could read and understand. She persisted in having me give her the copy, however, and so I did. Her rough fingers gently flipped through the introductory pages containing the pictures of Joseph Smith, Moroni, and the civilizations of ancient America. She asked various questions about the pictures and then concluded by requesting that we leave the book with her for a few days. She said that she had a friend who spoke German and that she would like to show it to this friend.
My mind immediately recalled a similar incident in which the “friend” turned out to be a leader in a local sect which was very unsympathetic to our cause. I finally agreed, however, to let her keep the book. We didn’t set a specific time to come back. I said simply that we would come back in a few days.
We departed, and my companion remarked that the encounter had been very successful. He said he felt confident that we really had a golden contact. I mumbled a skeptical “sure,” still very doubtful.
A few days later it was my companion’s turn to plan the day’s activities. He suggested that we go back to the Yugoslavian lady with whom we had placed the German copy of the Book of Mormon. I agreed, but was still convinced that we would be unsuccessful. We found her home, and I proceeded to ask her how her experience had been in showing the Book of Mormon to her friend. She said that her friend had been unavailable over the past few days, but that she herself had looked through the book and studied the pictures and had even prayed about the truthfulness of the book as I had told her Moroni had admonished readers to do. She then said that she felt the book was the true word of God.
I was dumbfounded by her statement. After so many rejections I was a little uncertain about her sincerity. I inquired again about her ability to read German. She repeated that she couldn’t read German but that she had pondered upon our previous discussion and had prayed. My initial reaction was one of mistrust. How, I thought, could she have a testimony of a book she can’t even read!
In the meantime, my companion had recognized that she really did know the Book of Mormon to be true and became excited by the prospect. He encouraged me to teach her more. I began back at the beginning with the discussion of Joseph Smith and the First Vision, still somewhat suspicious of the situation. We finished that meeting and went back for others. After a few weeks of learning, the lady was baptized. In time she did receive a copy of the Book of Mormon which she could read and understand for herself.
After she had first affirmed that she knew the Book of Mormon to be true, I noticed a marked difference in her interest and ability to learn gospel principles, compared with other investigators we had taught before. She seemed almost like a little child, wide-eyed and anxious to savor everything we had to say. She was not like other investigators, intent on critiquing our every word in order to prove or disprove the truthfulness of our message. Her knowledge of the Book of Mormon and the gospel grew by leaps and bounds, unlike anyone I had worked with before. She seemed to be exactly the person Moroni had in mind when he spoke of those who “receive these things” (Moro. 10:4) and have the truth manifested unto them, and yet she had not “read these things.” (Moro. 10:3; italics added.)

“Are you girls excited to see the temple?” Mom asked as she, Natalie, and Stephanie drove to the Detroit Michigan Temple site.
“Yes!” the sisters said.
“Is it true they’re putting the marble on the walls right now?” Natalie asked.
“I think so,” Mom said.
“I can’t wait until it’s done,” Stephanie said. “It’s going to be so pretty.”
The girls were going to a special activity day. They were visiting the new temple while it was still under construction.
When they got to the temple site they met their group of girls and their leader, Sister Jones.
Walking around the construction site, Sister Jones told stories of the Kirtland and Nauvoo Temples and the early Latter-day Saints.
“They built temples and then were run out of their towns. They had to leave behind the beautiful buildings they had spent so long making,” Sister Jones said. “We are blessed to have the temples that we do today, and to now have a temple so close to us.”
Natalie looked at the temple and imagined what it would be like to have to leave it after working so hard to build it. It made her sad.
“Do any of you know what blessings the temple gives us?” Sister Jones asked.
Kelsy raised her hand. “My family was sealed in the temple.”
“That’s right! People are married and sealed together in the temple so their families can be together forever. What other blessings are there?”
“Baptisms for the dead,” Natalie said. “That’s when people are baptized for people who aren’t alive anymore so they can choose to be members of the Church if they want.”
“Very good,” Sister Jones said. “Those are just some of the blessings we can receive in the temple.”
Natalie was excited to do baptisms for the dead when she turned 12. On her own baptism day she had felt clean and peaceful, and she wanted to share that feeling with others. Natalie felt important knowing she could do something to help people who had passed away.
“I have a gift for each of you,” Sister Jones said. She opened a bag and pulled out a piece of white stone.
“This is a piece of the same marble they are using to make the temple. I got special permission to give each of you one piece.” Sister Jones handed out the pieces of marble. “I want you to keep your marble in a special place to remind you of the temple and the blessings that the temple gives us. Can you do that?”
“Yes!” the girls said.
“I also want to challenge you to make goals to be worthy to enter the temple to do baptisms when you are 12, and to be married in the temple when you are older. The temple is a special place, and I want each of you to be a part of it,” Sister Jones said.
Natalie held her piece of marble tightly. It was white and beautiful and reminded her of being clean. She knew she wanted to be worthy to go inside the temple someday.
“I promise to remember the temple. I will go inside someday,” she said to herself. As she held the marble close to her heart, it felt like she was holding a piece of the temple there as well.

As we get older, we may have to pray longer and harder before getting an answer, but we will receive one. As a young man, I always planned to go on a mission until the time to go actually came. I was dating a young woman quite seriously, I had started an excellent job and was making good money, and I had just bought a new car. Suddenly leaving for two years didn’t sound so attractive. I decided to stay home and serve a stake mission instead. I thought my dad would be angry, but he just said, “Well, that’s your choice. But it’s a pretty big decision. Would you be willing to take two separate days and go off by yourself somewhere and fast and pray about this? If you do and you still feel the same way, I will not say another word.”
I agreed immediately because I was sure that my decision was acceptable to the Lord. I took my scriptures up into the mountains one Saturday and fasted and prayed and read. I went home and told my dad, “My feelings haven’t changed.”
He smiled and said, “You promised me two days.”
The next week I had to work on Saturday, so I went up into a canyon on Sunday morning and again studied and prayed. I stayed until it was time to leave for sacrament meeting, which was held in the afternoon. I still felt the same way about a mission, and I wanted to hurry down and tell my dad. But as I backed the car around, I got stuck in a snowbank. By the time I pulled the car out and got home, my parents had left, so I picked up my girlfriend and went to sacrament meeting.
During the meeting I idly picked up the hymnbook. It fell open to the hymn that in those days was called “It May Not Be on the Mountain Height” (see “I’ll Go Where You Want Me to Go,” Hymns, no. 270). Part of me said, “Don’t read it!” But I read all three verses, including the words “I’ll go where you want me to go, dear Lord.” In that instant my heart and mind changed. When I finished reading, I closed the book and looked up. Tears were streaming down my girlfriend’s face. She said, “You’re going, aren’t you?” I said, “Yes, I am.”
I can’t imagine where my life would have gone if I had chosen to stay home. My mission led me to great happiness, and prayer led me to my mission. This experience taught me the importance of going to the Lord with my decisions.

When the bishop asked me to share my testimony in the sacrament meeting after my baptism, I felt scared and inadequate. I had never spoken in front of a congregation.
“Is this really necessary?” I asked the bishop.
“Yes!” he said.
In sacrament meeting, I testified about how Heavenly Father loves me and how He answered my prayers by helping me find the restored gospel. When I stood at the podium, I felt the Holy Spirit so strongly. I felt blessed to be a member of Christ’s true Church. My heart was full of happiness and peace. Heavenly Father turned my fear of speaking into a beautiful experience.
The next month I had the opportunity to give a talk in sacrament meeting. I felt scared again—who was I to teach those who knew more about the gospel? But I prayed for the Holy Spirit to help me speak. Once again I felt the Spirit touch me, and I received the impression that Heavenly Father was pleased with my baptism and that my sins were forgiven.
I know from my experiences that I am a precious child of God and He loves me. Speaking in sacrament meeting was a valuable opportunity for me to serve God by testifying that Jesus Christ has restored His Church upon the earth.
Pamella Sari, baptized in Indonesia in 2012

Daily study of the scriptures is another important family activity. I remember when my son was seven years old. He was taking a shower one night during a storm when we lost the power in our home. My wife called to him and told him to hurry to finish his shower and to then take a candle and come slowly downstairs for our family prayer. She warned him to be careful to not drop the candle on the carpet because it could start a fire and the house could burn down. Several minutes later he came down the stairs struggling to hold the candle in one hand, and with his other arm he was carrying his scriptures. His mother asked him why he was bringing his scriptures. His answer to her was, “Mom, if the house burns down, I must save my scriptures!” We knew that our efforts to help him to love the scriptures had been planted in his heart forever.

We grew to love New England falls, cheering on the Red Sox, serving in the Boston Stake, and being in a community where we could represent the Church. President Gilbert loved his job, and he loved teaching and being in a visible professional environment where he frequently played an ambassadorial role for our faith. Here is a picture of President Gilbert with one of his cohorts of MBA students. They are all dressed in white shirts with khaki pants in caricature of our family photos that hung in his office at work. President Gilbert loved teaching, and he loved working with and mentoring students in personal ways.

President GilbertAnd yet, we would soon learn that sometimes a call in one stage of life is preparation for another. Think of Lehi and his family who were called out of Jerusalem. They showed great faith in leaving their possessions to enter the wilderness. I have to believe that by the time they reached the land of Bountiful, they were quite comfortable and were not anxious to go anywhere else.

And it came to pass that after I, Nephi, had been in the land of Bountiful for the space of many days, the voice of the Lord came unto me, saying: Arise, and get thee into the mountain. And it came to pass that I arose and went up into the mountain, and cried unto the Lord.
And it came to pass that the Lord spake unto me, saying: Thou shalt construct a ship, after the manner which I shall show thee, that I may carry thy people across these waters.[5] After nearly 10 years in Boston, it became clear that the Lord had another call for our family. We would be asked to leave the familiar and comfortable surroundings of Boston to gather with so many others who had done the same thing in coming to Rexburg to become part of this amazing institution at BYU-Idaho. This time it was not overcoming fear of failure or questions about personal preparation.

This time we had to leave behind something very different. The success of an early career led to the very risky temptation that our accomplishments had come from our own efforts and not from the Lord. Rising to the call meant recognizing that the Lord had placed experiences in our lives, not for our own glorification but in preparation for future service in the kingdom. We would be asked to give up a career studying innovation and the trappings of a visible professional life to once again leave the familiar in order to be blessed with something better. The ensuing three years on this campus changed our lives in ways we never could have imaged. We learned then, and we continue to realize, that when we rise to the calls the Lord presents to us, He blesses us in ways that are powerful and permanent.

Anya lives in Russia. When she was only 14 years old, she was being taught the gospel by the missionaries. One day in her school class, the teacher was saying false things about the Church and about the Book of Mormon. There were no Latter-day Saints in the school to defend it; but little Anya, who was not even a member, only an investigator of the Church, knew that what the teacher was saying was wrong. She stood up in front of the whole class and defended the Book of Mormon and the Church. What courage! She told them that what they were saying was not true and that she knew the Book of Mormon was true, and if anyone wanted to know the truth for themselves, she invited them to read it like she had done. Then Anya went home and told the missionaries she was ready to be baptized. I love Anya’s courage as she stood as a witness at an important time.

There was great growth and maturation in my family from the time my father was called to be branch president until he was released. Great blessings came to our family. My father was out of work and planning to move when they called him to the presidency, and he decided to stay. We lived on our food supply for six months. Now he has a job that keeps him at home where his family and church need him.
When a father is called by our Heavenly Father, the whole family is a part of that calling. It’s a rare and choice experience to see your father grow as I have. I wouldn’t trade those three years for anything.

In 1962, 11 of my high school classmates from Preston, Idaho, and I joined the National Guard. Basic training was like a vacation until we got to Fort Ord, in California.
We needed one another in order to survive our new military surroundings and the onslaught of the other recruits, many of whom used reprehensible language and seemed to have no morals. I sought every opportunity to be with my Latter-day Saint buddies for support from the harassment of our fellow recruits.
After basic training, a couple of my school classmates and I stayed on at Fort Ord to continue training in field communications. Soon, two of the tough, stout recruits in our training class began having a contest to see which one could say the most detestable and vulgar things. Each morning when they arose, they would shout vulgarities so everyone in the barracks could hear their filthy language.
One morning I found myself in front of them and, longing for relief, demanded that they stop. Embarrassed, they turned their ugliness on me, calling me several names. Then they warned me that they had better not catch me alone.
Later that morning, as I was picking up trash, I found myself alone between barracks. Suddenly I saw someone coming my way. It was one of the recruits who had threatened me.
I prepared for the worst as he approached me. But he began telling me how much he respected me and wished that he had the courage to live as I lived. He admitted that his parents would be disappointed if they knew how he was living. He said he would never again use vulgar language in my presence. Then he turned and left.
As I passed the next barracks, I saw the second fellow coming my way. He approached me and apologized for the way he had been acting. He also told me how much he respected me, saying he hoped that someday he could live as he had been taught.
One weekend when my Latter-day Saint buddies were on leave, these two young men invited me to go to a movie with them and their group. As we walked together, someone swore. The two stout recruits told the group that there would be no swearing while I was with them.
After the movie, when the group decided to go to a club for some drinking, my friends excused themselves, explaining that they were going to spend the evening with me. Once we were alone, they asked me about my family and the kind of church I belonged to that would help young men develop the standards by which our Latter-day Saint group lived. I answered their questions and told them about the Church.
I learned that heaven sustains courage and blesses those who stand up for what is right.

One day I went to the beach with my brother and my mom. When our mom sat down to rest for a minute, she told us to wait for her, but my brother and I kept walking. Suddenly, we realized we were lost. We went back to where Mom had been, but we could not find her. I started to cry, and some people tried to help us. Finally our aunt found us.
While we were lost, I said a prayer. Our dad taught us that if we do not know what to do, we can say a prayer. I said one, very quietly, and then we were found. I learned that we should always obey our parents. And I know Heavenly Father hears us when we pray.