Gospel Story Finder

Last summer a group of young women from Alpine, Utah, decided that they would become “more fit for the kingdom.” They determined to focus on the temple by walking from the Draper Utah Temple to the Salt Lake Temple, a total distance of 22 miles (35 km), just as one of the pioneers, John Rowe Moyle, had done. Brother Moyle was a stonemason who was called by the prophet, Brigham Young, to work on the Salt Lake Temple. Each week he walked the distance of 22 miles from his home to the temple. One of his jobs was to carve the words “Holiness to the Lord” on the east side of the Salt Lake Temple. It was not easy and he had many obstacles to overcome. At one point, he was kicked in the leg by one of his cows. Because it would not heal, he had to have this leg amputated. But that did not stop him from his commitment to the prophet and to work on the temple. He carved a wooden leg, and after many weeks he again walked the 22-mile distance to the temple to do the work he had committed to do.6
The young women in the Cedar Hills Sixth Ward decided to walk that same distance for an ancestor and also for someone who was their inspiration to remain worthy to enter the temple. They trained each week at Mutual, and as they walked, they shared what they were learning and feeling about temples.
They began their walk to the temple early in the morning with a prayer. As they started out, I was impressed with their confidence. They had prepared well, and they knew they were prepared. Their eyes were set on their goal. Each step they took was symbolic of each of you as you too are preparing now to enter the temple. Your personal training has begun with your daily personal prayers, your daily reading of the Book of Mormon, and your working on Personal Progress.
As these young women continued to walk, there were distractions along the course, but they stayed focused on their goal. Some began to feel blisters forming, and others felt knees starting to protest, but they kept going. For each of you, there are many distractions, hurts, and obstacles along your path to the temple, but you too are determined and keep going. The route these young women took was mapped out by their leaders, who had walked and driven the course and determined the safest and most direct way to go. Again, your course is marked, and you can be assured that the Savior has not only walked the course but will again walk it with you—every step of the way.
Along this journey to the temple there were fathers, mothers, family members, and priesthood leaders acting as guardians. Their job was to ensure that everyone was safe and protected from danger. They made sure each young woman stayed well hydrated and had enough nourishment to maintain her stamina. There were aid stations provided by their priesthood leaders, with places to rest and to drink water. Young women, your fathers, your mothers, your bishops, and so many others will be your guardians as you walk your path to the temple. They will call out cautions and direct your course, and should you become injured or hurt or get off course, they will help you.
I was impressed that in the final miles of their walk, brothers, other young men, and friends came to support these determined young women and to cheer them on. One brother lifted his sister, who had large blisters on her feet, and carried her on his back the final distance to the temple. As these incredible young women reached their goal, tears were shed as they touched the temple and made a silent commitment to always be worthy to enter there.

Matthew said goodnight to his mom and dad and started up the stairs. But before he closed the door to his room, he heard his father say, “I’m sure tired. It’s been a long day.”
Why does Dad always think it’s been such a long day? wondered Matthew. There just weren’t enough daylight hours to do all that he wanted. Darkness, quickly followed by bedtime, always came too soon.
The next morning his father greeted him at the breakfast table. “Son, how would you like to go with me on a business trip? You could ask your friend Jimmy to take your paper route for a week.”
A week, Matthew thought. He’d occasionally gone with his father before, but usually only for a day or two at the most. A whole week!
His father continued, “I have a convention in Helsinki, Finland. You could stay with your Uncle Jussi and Aunt Helvi.”
“You mean I’d get to see Matti?” asked Matthew excitedly. He and his Finnish cousin were both named after their great-uncle Matias. Both boys were almost twelve now, and had been writing to each other for several years.
After hours of anticipation, the flight to Helsinki seemed short to Matthew. Then, picking up their suitcases, the two of them were whisked to their hotel in a taxi.
Later Matthew was looking out the hotel window and watching the trolley cars below when his dad said, “You’d better get to bed, son. You have to leave early in the morning.”
Tomorrow Matthew would go by plane to Oulu, flying northward half the length of Finland. He would stay with his cousin Matti, while his father remained in Helsinki for meetings.
The hotel room was flooded with light when Matthew awoke the next morning. He shook his father. “Hey, Dad. Wake up. It’s late!”
His father rolled over and looked at his watch. “It’s only three-thirty, Matt. The plane doesn’t leave until eight. Go back to sleep,” he suggested and shut his eyes again.
But Matthew was awake now and too excited to sleep. He quietly walked over to the window and looked down at the sleeping city. The sun was shining brightly on the street below.
It’s strange to have the sun shining when it’s only a few hours after midnight, he thought.
Later that morning the fifty-five-minute plane ride took Matthew over the industrial section north of Helsinki. Dairy farms and grainfields broke up the blue and green pattern of the lakes and forests below. He’d never seen so many small lakes. He remembered something he had read about this pleasantly strange land: “Silvery lakes—55,000 of them—embroidering a carpeted forest and strung together with short … rivers make Finland a labyrinthine land.”
Uncle Jussi and Aunt Helvi greeted him warmly. He and Matti shook hands shyly but were soon laughing and talking together excitedly.
“I think you speak English better than I do,” said Matthew.
“We start learning it when we are seven and first enter school,” replied Matti. “Our school radio broadcasts lessons into our classrooms,” he added.
Matti showed his American cousin around their home. They stepped into a storage shed next to the house where several pairs of ice skates hung from the wall and skis were stored above the rafters.
“The countryside looks flat. Where do you ski?” asked Matthew. “I haven’t seen any mountains.”
“We don’t need mountains or steep slopes. We ski cross-country,” replied Matti. “Nearly everyone has a pair of skis. Those small ones belong to my sisters Tuula and Liisa.”
Back in the kitchen, Matti said, “Aiti (Mother), I’m going to take Matthew down to the harbor to see the fishing boats.”
“You’d better eat something first,” she suggested. “I’m sure Matthew must be hungry.” She placed a plate of sliced rye bread on the table along with some cheese and milk.
Matthew had never seen such dark bread before. “This is really good,” he said as he finished one slice and then reached for another.
The boys left for the harbor, but Matthew returned for a sweater. He wasn’t used to such cool summer weather. “I keep forgetting we’re so far north,” he told his cousin as he pulled on the sweater. “Say, I haven’t seen any reindeer yet.”
Matti replied, “Oh, most of them are farther north in Lapland. Many people think Finland is nothing but Laplanders and reindeer. But I’ll show you lots of other things about our country. Come on. Let’s go.”
Matthew was tired by suppertime—too tired to eat all of the potatoes, meatballs, and raspberry pudding placed before him. He yawned. “Doesn’t it ever get dark here?” he asked. “The sun seems as bright as ever.”
“The days are the longest of the year now,” said Matti. “The sun shines for over twenty hours. It won’t get dark until about midnight.”
At nine-thirty, with several hours of daylight left, Matthew excused himself and headed for bed. “It’s been a long day,” he said, yawning, “and I’ve some catching up to do!”

Missionary work is great! One of the reasons I decided to serve a mission is because of a missionary assigned to my branch at home. One time I asked him, “Elder, why did you serve a mission and leave your work and family?”
He answered, “Brother, there are two reasons I went on a mission. First, I love God. Second, I love the people who have not yet heard about the gospel of Jesus Christ.” (See Mosiah 28:3.)
Because of that missionary, I am now serving a mission.

Sure I had a testimony. Or did I? I prayed, read the scriptures (most days), and went to church, but did I really have a personal testimony of Jesus Christ and the Book of Mormon? These thoughts filled my mind when a stake leader asked me to join some of the other stake youth in a special project.
Project? What kind of project?
I quickly learned that each participant would need to read the Book of Mormon for a month, and then we would all tell about our experiences. It didn’t sound too bad until I learned we would be filmed so the stake leaders could share a video of our testimonies with the youth in each ward.
Every ward in the stake would see this?
I decided being videotaped would be way better than having to talk in front of huge groups of people in each ward. So I agreed. Each day, I curled up cozily to read at least one chapter in the Book of Mormon. As the days whizzed by, I realized I loved this book. The Book of Mormon came alive with new depth and vitality. Near the end of the project, I read Moroni 10:3–5. I wanted to know the truth, and I had faith to receive it.
That night when all was quiet, I knelt to ask God to know if the Book of Mormon is true. As I prayed, I felt encircled by a peaceful warmth. I knew without a doubt that the Book of Mormon is the word of God. This book became as true and as real as the stars I see glistening in the sky. What a powerful testimony this experience became in my life!
The time arrived for the leaders and invited youth to meet together. We came fasting to help bring the Spirit into our meeting. When it was my turn, I rose to speak. My testimony of the Book of Mormon had not come in a sudden burst of light or some other dramatic display. It had arrived more simply. The same peace and warmth I had felt when I prayed about the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon came over me again. I stood and bore testimony of the sacred pages I had read; I knew the Book of Mormon is true.

Tina and Troy are twins. Today they are watching general conference with Grandma. “I have a surprise for you,” Grandma says. She gives them crayons and notebooks. “When you hear a special word, draw it in your notebooks,” she says. So Tina and Troy listen. Troy draws a temple white and tall. Tina draws a heart full of love. They hear the prophet talk about Jesus, so they draw Jesus too! “You filled your notebooks with so many good words,” Grandma said. “I’m happy we could listen to general conference.”

The light of the temple has come into many lives. “Before I became a member of the Church I did not know what my life would be after death,” explains Marguerite Teriinohopua. Her family learned of the Church because another family prayed to find them. Ernest Montrose, now first counselor in the Faaa Tahiti Stake presidency, was at that time bishop of the Heiri Ward. When missionaries encouraged members to pray to find investigators, “I figured our family should go first.” Inspiration came. Bishop Montrose invited a coworker, Danielson Teriinohopua, to bring his family to a home evening with the missionaries.

“We were at the same time praying to be guided to the truth,” recalls Danielson, who is now a member of the high council. “At the end of the evening, we told them we wanted to know more—immediately.” Bishop Montrose scheduled another meeting the next night, then the next and the next. Within weeks the Teriinohopuas were baptized and confirmed, and a year later they were sealed in the temple. “Today I have a response to my questions,” Marguerite says. “In the temple I feel great peace and joy.”

Chanterel Hauata of the Heiri Ward also knows the joy of attending the temple. Although a benign brain tumor caused him to go blind six years ago, in the temple he sees clearly. “It is a place of clarity,” he explains. “In the temple we learn of eternity. It lifts us beyond this mortal life.”

The Pepe Mariteragi family has also felt the blessings of the temple. When they gathered at the family home in Paea in October 2003, they spoke about Tepahu, Pepe’s wife—their mother and grandmother. “She passed away seven months ago,” explained Lucien, one of her sons, “but our hearts are still turned toward her.”

“It is thanks to the gospel that we are able to deal with such things,” said Jean-Marie, another son. “The blessings of the temple give us the understanding that we can be an eternal family.”

Many years ago, the Church established a very special type of employment opportunity that is still in operation today. I remember as a boy coming to Salt Lake City on occasion from our home in Phoenix, Arizona, to visit my grandparents. My grandfather, who was well into his eighties, was proud to invite us down to his place of employment. It was the old Deseret Industries in Sugarhouse. I was thrilled as I visited him and saw this patriarch of the Peterson family remain useful, productive, and happy until the time of his death because of one of the employment programs of the Church. It was from this good man that my father learned the nobility of work, which became one of his greatest gifts to his own posterity.

Unlike some student wards, the University Ward in Las Vegas has a mix of single and married people. A few couples even have children, so the younger women in the ward have to step out of their comfort zone to help the others.
Emily and her partner (who is also 19) go visiting teaching to the married, has-a-master’s-degree, has-a-baby Relief Society president (gulp). But, as with most other things, Emily takes it in stride and has even learned to enjoy it.
“Getting the call to be her visiting teacher was a little intimidating, I have to admit,” she says. “Since I didn’t know what it was like to be married or have a baby, I just had to ask her. Since I was forced to ask a lot of questions, I’ve come to know more about her. I really admire her, and I have learned so much from being her visiting teacher. And I hope maybe she’s learned a little something from me.”

One day I took home a spelling test with zero wrong. When my mom looked at it, she noticed that one of the words was spelled wrong. I was very sad that I had gotten one word wrong and did not want to tell my teacher. But the next morning I told my teacher about the mistake. She said she did not have her glasses on when she corrected the papers. She told the class that I told the truth. Then she asked me to choose something from the prize jar. I am glad that I told the truth.

One Sunday afternoon a few years ago, Benjamin’s dad gave him a piece of paper and suggested that he make something for family home evening. Now every Sunday Benjamin gets out his craft box and makes a project. He has made models of scripture stories like Jonah and the whale and Noah’s ark. It’s always a surprise to see what he will come up with.
Benjamin likes sharing his projects in family home evening. And when it’s time to sing the opening song, Benjamin volunteers to conduct it.

President Smith showed an example of such kindness in a meeting where an accident involving a Church-owned automobile was discussed. An elderly man driving a vegetable truck with no insurance had caused the mishap. After some discussion, it was recommended that the Church pursue the matter in a court of law. However, President Smith spoke up: “Yes, we could do that. And if we press with all vigor, we might even succeed in taking the truck away from the poor man; then how would he make a living?” The committee reversed its recommendation and let the matter rest.15

Elder Bruce Porter of the Seventy recounts an experience: “As a missionary in Germany nearly 25 years ago, I arrived in the city of Wuppertal as a new zone leader shortly after the missionaries who preceded me had had phenomenal success in baptizing several families and individuals. Their baptisms represented a substantial addition to that branch, which had nearly 100 members. We decided as missionaries to concentrate a great deal of effort on integrating and fellowshipping these new members so that they would remain active members of the branch for the rest of their lives. We taught them all of the new member lessons, as well as additional lessons of our own making; we enrolled them in a yearlong Gospel Essentials class taught by the missionaries; we worked with the branch leadership to ensure that they received callings and were integrated into the branch through socials and fellowshipping by members; we arranged for them to meet one another and help teach other investigators so that they would form bonds among themselves that would help them as a group remain active in the future. In short, we spent more than six months after their baptism doing what we could to ensure that their testimonies were strong and that they were integrated into the Church.
“Today, 25 years later, almost all of those families and individuals are still active and faithful. Many of their children have served missions and have been married in the temple. We now have a second and even a third generation of activity in the Church. The one couple who did go inactive had a daughter who remained active and has since been married in the temple. Although this is only one case, my experience then persuaded me that time spent by missionaries working with members to integrate new members into the Church will pay off richly in the long term” (letter to Elder Richard G. Scott).

One day I attended a conference with our one-year-old daughter. In the conference, an Area Seventy talked about the responsibility of parents to teach the gospel to their children. He then made a promise that left a huge impression on me. He said: “If, after everything you can do to teach the gospel, one of your children leaves the Church, they will still be blessed because of the memory of the things they experienced at home.”

The words of that Area Seventy filled me with hope because I had nieces and nephews who had left the Church. Years later my daughter, the same one-year-old I held in my arms during that conference, left the Church when she turned 17. She had met someone who was not rooted in the gospel, and they got married. She never went to church after that.

This was painful for me. I asked myself over and over what we did wrong. Her father and I always tried to keep the commandments and serve in the Church. We love our children and want the best for them. After many tears and questions, we finally concluded that children grow, exercise their agency, and don’t always believe the things they’re taught at home.

Unfortunately, my daughter’s marriage fell apart, and she still doesn’t want to come back to the Church. All I can do is remember the promise that she will remember and be blessed because of the things she was taught at home.

I continue to pray for my daughter. I love her with all my heart, and it hurts me to see her distanced from the Church. But I know that, despite my imperfections, the things I taught her are right and true. I know that Heavenly Father is just and loving and that He listens to our prayers. Without any doubt in my heart, I know that if I do my part, He will answer them in the moment He sees right.

A vital part of that loving is listening. I know what listening really is, because I have had the blessed experience.
I used to farm with my dad. I didn’t always enjoy it, but when lunchtime came we’d sit in the shade of the tall poplar trees, eat our lunch, and talk. My dad didn’t use this as a golden teaching moment to lay down the law and straighten out his daughter. We just talked—about anything and everything.
This was the time I could ask questions. I felt so safe I could even ask questions that might provoke him. I remember asking him, “Why did you embarrass me in front of my friends last week when I had stayed out too late and you came and got me?”
His answer leads to another aspect of love. He wasn’t being arbitrary. There were certain standards of behavior I was expected to live. He said, “Having you out late worried me. Above all, I want you safe.” I realized his love for me was stronger than his desire for sleep or the inconvenience of getting dressed and driving down the road looking for me.
Whether it is a hayfield or other casual places, those times together can fill the reservoir for other times that may not be as idyllic and serene. Relationships stay intact with this kind of investment—in spite of hard doctrine and correction—or maybe because of it.
Love is listening when they are ready to talk—midnight, 6 A.M. on their way to seminary, or when you’re busy with your urgencies. Have you seen the Church spot on television showing a darkened bedroom? The door opens, and in walks a little girl with a book under her arm. She goes over to where her dad is sound asleep and asks, “Daddy, will you read me a story?” The dad doesn’t open his eyes; he just mumbles in his sleep, “Oh, honey, Daddy is so tired. Ask Mommy.” The little girl patters over to where her mother is sleeping and asks, “Mommy, can Daddy read me a story?” You see the dad’s eyes pop open, and the next picture shows all three of them together, and Dad is reading a story.
Loving may come naturally, but leading is a polished skill that maybe we don’t take seriously enough. We lead by example more strongly than any other way. That is a heavy burden for parents and leaders of youth.
Can our young people tell by the way we live and talk and pray that we love the Lord? Do they know that their Father in Heaven is a God of love by the way they feel when they are with us? Can they feel secure that we will not be moved by every wind of doctrine or the craftiness of social pressure and worldly acceptance? (see Eph. 4:14).
If we are going to lead in righteousness, there can’t be any question where we stand. Small uncertainties on our part can produce large uncertainties in our youth.
I wonder sometimes if we as mothers are the ones who make our children feel the pressure to be popular and accepted. Educating our desires so our standards are the Lord’s standards sends a clear message that in the Lord’s kingdom there are no double standards.
Following President Hinckley’s talk to the youth last November, a young woman reported to her mother that her Young Women leader had removed her second set of earrings. These scrutinizing young people notice. They notice how short your shorts are or if you had to tuck and pin to wear that blouse; they notice what you wear (or don’t wear) when you are working in your yard; they notice which line you are standing in at the movie theater.
We have made covenants with the Lord, and leading often tests the level of our commitment to those covenants.
A young mother said, “It takes an enormous amount of time and energy to be a good parent. It is easier to let my children fall asleep in front of the television while I pick up the house and then put them to bed than it is to read the scriptures to them, have prayers and stories, and tuck them in. But they look forward to this evening ritual, and I know this investment, even when I’m too tired to move, will pay eternal dividends.” Consistent leading helps youth make wise choices, and our trust in them increases.
I remember when I was about 16 years old overhearing Mom talking to Dad. She was concerned about some choices I was making. I was not guilty of any sin more serious than the immaturity of youth, but Mom was worried. What Dad said seared into my heart. “Don’t worry,” he said to Mom. “I trust Sharon, and I know she’ll do the right thing.” Those hours in the hayfield paid off then and there. From that moment on I was bound to those loving, trusting parents.
One of the greatest tests for parents and leaders is to love the one who seems to be unlovable. This is tough duty. It stretches the heartstrings and wrenches the soul. When heartbroken parents pray for help, the help often comes in the form of angel aunts or uncles, grandmas or grandpas, good friends, and leaders surrounding our loved one. They can reinforce our very message that may put our child on the track we’ve been praying for.
Loving wisely and leading purposefully will help stem the tide of wickedness as we prepare the next generation for the exhilarating delights of parenthood. We never forget the joys of our 12-year-old when he first passes the sacrament or hearing the sacramental prayer given in the voice of our son. How do you explain the feeling of hearing your daughter bear her testimony of the Savior or watching her receive her Young Womanhood medallion?
We catch a glimpse of heaven when we are in the temple with our child who is kneeling across the altar with a worthy companion. They are prepared to start a life together of promise and accomplishments that we have helped to nurture. This is harvest time.
I close with my testimony that we are not alone in this sacred trust of parenting, loving, and leading. There is no greater joy. It is worth every sacrifice, every inconvenient minute, every ounce of patience, personal discipline, and endurance. “If God be for us, who can be against us?” (Rom. 8:31). In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

A few years ago a faithful family exemplified for members of our ward that same trust in the Lord. Arn and Venita Gatrell were living a happy life when Arn was diagnosed with an aggressive cancer. The prognosis was devastating—he had just a few weeks to live. The family wanted to be together one last time. So all the children gathered, some from distant locations. They had only 48 precious hours to spend together. The Gatrells carefully chose what mattered most to them—a family picture, a family dinner, and a session in the Salt Lake Temple. Venita said, “When we walked out of the temple doors, it was the last time we would ever be together in this life.”
But they left with the assurance that there is so much more for them than just this life. Because of sacred temple covenants, they have hope in God’s promises. They can be together forever.
The next two months were filled with blessings too numerous to recount. Arn and Venita’s faith and trust in the Lord were growing, as evidenced in Venita’s words: “I was carried. I learned that you can feel peace in the midst of turmoil. I knew the Lord was watching over us. If you trust in the Lord, truly you can overcome any of life’s challenges.”
One of their daughters added: “We watched our parents and saw their example. We saw their faith and how they handled it. I would never have asked for this trial, but I would never give it away. We were surrounded with God’s love.”
Of course, Arn’s passing was not the outcome the Gatrells had hoped for. But their crisis was not a crisis of faith. The gospel of Jesus Christ is not a checklist of things to do; rather, it lives in our hearts. The gospel “is not weight; it is wings.” It carries us. It carried the Gatrells. They felt peace in the midst of the storm. They held fast to each other and to temple covenants they had made and kept. They grew in their ability to trust in the Lord and were strengthened by their faith in Jesus Christ and in His atoning power.

Mackenzie felt miserable. Her best friend, Bekah, had moved all the way to Texas with her family. Mackenzie tried to have fun without Bekah, but it just wasn’t the same. Playing by herself just wasn’t fun. Mackenzie missed having someone to giggle with and play superheroes and princesses together. She missed Bekah.
Without Bekah, Mackenzie had no one to show her drawings to or sit with in Primary. She liked the other kids in her class, but none of them were her best friend.
One night Mackenzie lay in her bed, hugging her favorite stuffed animal, Bunny. She counted all the days Bekah had been gone. “I’m lonely,” she told Bunny. “What am I going to do?” Tears filled her eyes.
Bunny didn’t have any answers for her. But Mackenzie knew someone who did.
She knelt down beside her bed. Then she folded her arms and bowed her head. “Heavenly Father,” she prayed, “please help me find a new best friend so I won’t be lonely. Please help me be brave enough to talk to people.”
A few weeks later, Mackenzie’s parents invited someone over for dinner. His name was Brother Bryce. He was new in the ward. During dinner, Brother Bryce turned to Mackenzie and said, “My family is still in Colorado while I look for a house here, but I have a daughter about your age. Would you like to talk to her on the phone?”
Mackenzie’s heart started pounding. What am I going to say? What if she thinks I’m boring? Then Mackenzie remembered her prayer. Heavenly Father can help me be brave.
“Sure,” Mackenzie said in a small voice.
Brother Bryce pulled out his phone and called his family. Then he handed the phone to Mackenzie. She bit her lip nervously.
“You can sit on the couch while you talk,” Dad suggested with a smile.
Mackenzie nodded and headed to the living room. She sat on the couch and hugged a pillow tightly. She took a deep breath and raised the phone to her ear.
“Hello?” Mackenzie asked.
A quiet voice answered, “Hi.”
Mackenzie took another deep breath. “My name’s Mackenzie. What’s yours?”
“Hannah,” the girl said after a short pause. “Do you like books?”
Mackenzie smiled. “I love books. Do you like superheroes?”
“Superheroes are my favorite!” Hannah’s voice sounded excited. “What about princesses?”
“Definitely!” Mackenzie said with a grin.
Before they knew it, Mackenzie and Hannah were talking about all kinds of things. They could have talked forever, but Brother Bryce had to leave. And his phone battery was about to die!
“I can’t wait for you to get here!” Mackenzie said.
“Me too!” Hannah said. “You’re really cool!”
That night, Mackenzie knelt beside her bed with a huge smile. “Thank you, Heavenly Father,” she prayed, “for helping me find a brand-new friend.”
Mackenzie and Hannah have been best friends for 15 years. They grew up and went to college together. They’re still best friends today!

In January 1988 I was called as the Relief Society education counselor in my ward in Takapuna, New Zealand. I soon learned that I had much to offer my Relief Society sisters—and even more to gain.
It was so stimulating to teach adults and to feel the spirit of these women, who were struggling in their various circumstances. I realized that the Relief Society lessons were pertinent to every member. Even lessons on marriage and family were based on essential gospel principles that I needed in my life as a single sister. Relief Society was becoming more relevant to me than I had imagined.
However, this calling was only a stepping-stone to what was to come. Eighteen months later, I was listening to the blessing setting me apart as a Relief Society president. I knew there was much work to do to help uplift and strengthen the sisters, many of whom came from cultural and economic backgrounds different from my own. I especially wanted to encourage those sisters who didn’t attend church regularly to come back into full activity and enjoy the fulness of the gospel.
Almost overnight after my setting apart, I felt a confidence I had never possessed before. My compassion increased noticeably. The Lord was truly magnifying my abilities, and I felt that with his help I could accomplish anything he required of me. As I started visiting sisters in their homes, my love for them grew.
I learned patience as I sat beside the elderly and infirm, listening to them talk of their challenges. With tears streaming down her face, one dear sister in her 80s told me how she no longer felt like knitting or crocheting. Every part of her body hurt, and the days and nights were long and sad.
A year later I sat by her hospital bed, holding her withered hand and stroking her thin arm. As she labored for every breath, I pleaded with Heavenly Father to release her from her terrible suffering if that was his will. Many sisters in the ward had helped her feel loved as cancer ravaged her body; we all longed for her to be at peace.
Forty-eight hours later, she breathed her last breath, and we all wept together. We could envision her joy as she entered into a new life of freedom from earthly cares.
As I sat with her that last night, I knew that even in her terrible physical condition, there was still purpose in her life—not only for her personally but also for us. How could we learn to give of our time and love if there were no needy souls?
There were dear sisters in our ward who could no longer see and who relied on others to read to them and keep them informed. There were sisters with hearing loss who couldn’t benefit fully from the lessons and talks given during Sunday meetings. Yet many of them continued to attend, eager for the fellowship and love found within the walls of the meetinghouse.
I learned to give of my time and to feel it was not a sacrifice. Many Saturdays I woke up feeling burdened. How I wanted to take the day off, to stay home and wallow in my own worries and cares! Sometimes the heaviness of heart almost overwhelmed me. But in every case, when I drove up to a hospital or home to visit someone in need, my own worries subsided and the feeling of peace returned. Once again, I was reminded that the Lord greatly blesses us when we sacrifice to reach out to another soul.
I loved the unity I felt among the sisters in my ward. Amid our differences in backgrounds, interests, and cultures, we felt close and united in our love for one another.
I am grateful for the inspiration I received as I sought to meet the needs of others. Ideas flowed, and as I attempted to implement those ideas and prayed for guidance, more light and knowledge came to me. It was a most humbling experience. I felt myself being spiritually stretched and filled.
The greatest experience I had as a Relief Society president was receiving an increase of love beyond anything I had previously experienced. I know that the Lord increased my capacity to love and care, and this feeling has not left me. Never before have I worked so hard and found so much joy in any calling. Relief Society changed my life.

Such a fracture developed between two heroes of the Restoration of the Church of Jesus Christ in these latter days. Parley and Orson Pratt were brothers, early converts, and ordained Apostles. Each faced a trial of faith but came through with an unshakable testimony. Both sacrificed and contributed greatly for the cause of truth.
During the Nauvoo era, their relationship became strained, culminating in a heated, public confrontation in 1846. A deep and prolonged rift developed. Parley initially wrote to Orson to resolve the rift, but Orson did not reply. Parley gave up, feeling that correspondence was over forever, unless initiated by Orson.
Several years later, in March 1853, Orson learned about a project to publish a book on the descendants of William Pratt, the brothers’ earliest American ancestor. Orson began to weep “like a little child” as he glimpsed this treasure trove of family history. His heart melted, and he determined to repair the breach with his brother.
Orson wrote to Parley, “Now my dear brother, there are none among all the descendants of our Ancestor, Lieut[enant] William Pratt, who have so deep an interest in searching out his descendants as ourselves.” Orson was one of the first to understand that Latter-day Saints have an obligation to research and compile family histories so that we can perform vicarious ordinances for our ancestors. His letter continued: “We know that the God of our fathers has had a hand in all this. … I will beg pardon for having been so backward in writing to you. … I hope you will forgive me.” Despite their unshakable testimonies, their love for their ancestors was the catalyst to heal a rift, mend a hurt, and seek and extend forgiveness.
When God directs us to do one thing, He often has many purposes in mind. Family history and temple work is not only for the dead but blesses the living as well. For Orson and Parley, it turned their hearts to each other. Family history and temple work provided the power to heal that which needed healing.

The baby was crying, our three other young children needed to be put to bed, and I was exhausted.
As I tried to wrap my mind around the impossible task before me, all I could hear in my mind were the last words of my husband (who was currently serving as our bishop) as he walked out the door that evening: “I’ll be at the pool with the priests. Tim is teaching the boys how to scuba dive.”
“Really?” I thought to myself. “I’m here juggling four children, and you’re off learning to scuba dive? How is this fair?”
Later that evening when Bruce walked in the door, he met one tired wife.
“How did your evening go?” he asked.
In tears, I told him how hard it had been to put four children, including a fussy baby, to bed knowing that he was off learning how to scuba dive. I could understand him leaving if someone in the ward was facing a crisis, yes. But scuba diving? Not so much.
Bruce sat down beside me. “I’m sorry it was hard for you. I didn’t go for the scuba diving. I didn’t even know if I would get into the pool. I went for two young men.”
He told me he had felt strongly he should attend this event because two priests who hadn’t attended church or activities for a long time were going to be there. He shared that he had been able to talk to them that evening, strengthening his relationship with them and helping them integrate with the others.
My heart softened, and I was reminded that him being called to serve as a bishop while also being a husband and father required a sacrifice from both of us.

My family wanted to focus on the Christmas spirit during the Christmas season, so we decided to do a secret “12 Days of Christmas.” We chose a family in our stake who were good friends of ours and had been going through a rough time. On each night of the 12 days leading up to Christmas, my four younger siblings and I prepared a gift with that day’s theme. For example, on the second day we used turtle chocolates for “two turtle doves,” and on the seventh day for “seven swans-a-swimming,” we used goldfish crackers and bubbles. We dropped off the nightly treats on the family’s doorstep, rang the doorbell, and ran and hid so they couldn’t find us.
On Christmas Eve, the 12th day of Christmas with “12 drummers drumming,” we brought the family a box of Drumstick ice-cream-cone treats and let them know who we were. They were so happy and thanked us for helping them feel love during the Christmas season.
Because that family felt loved they decided that they also wanted to show love to other families. My family also had such a positive experience spreading the Christmas spirit that we still continue this tradition. I’m grateful my family could focus on the true spirit of Christmas and help others feel it as well. Those nightly treat drop-offs have become some of my favorite Christmas memories.
Sydney J., Alabama, USA