Gospel Story Finder

Emily is scared to go to Primary by herself. She asks Mom to come with her.
“I get to go to my class and learn how Jesus can help me,” Mom says.
“And you get to go to Primary and learn how Jesus can help you.”
Mom hugs Emily. “Jesus can help us, even when it’s hard.”
Mom walks with Emily to Primary and waves goodbye.
They learn a song about Jesus. Emily likes the music. She feels safe and happy.
Mom isn’t in Primary. But Jesus is helping Emily be brave!
Illustrations by Natalie Briscoe

One day I was walking by a family’s house in my ward and I remembered the parents had recently divorced. I was thinking about what I could do for them and a prompting came to me to go ask if the father was home. It scared me to death and I almost walked away. But trusting that God knows best, I approached the door, knocked, and waited. The mother opened the door slowly; as I looked at her face it was obvious she had been crying. I asked if the father was home, and she said no. I didn’t know what to say next, so I asked if I could rake her leaves or do any other task for her. She said she didn’t need any help at that time, but she would let me know when she did. I left, confident that I had done what God wanted me to do.
Over the next couple of weeks, I befriended her son and played hockey with him and talked with him. A few weeks later my mom told me that the sister had told my mom what happened because I knocked on her door. She had been thinking a lot about how her family would be impacted by her husband’s absence and how her son would no longer have a friend. She had been praying for guidance at the exact moment I knocked on the door.
I know that spiritual promptings can come to you if you are ready for them and that they can change your life and the lives of those you touch.

These youth and others from the Payson 20th Ward in the Payson Utah Mount Nebo Stake started indexing after their bishop challenged them to index 250 names each to qualify to go on a trip. He also extended the challenge to the leaders as well as the youth.
“We challenged them that we leaders could index more names than they could,” says Bishop Steven Pace. “The losers had to serve the winners dinner … and the leaders ended up serving the youth dinner.”
Four months after the challenge was issued, the youth had far surpassed the original goal of 250 names per person and had indexed more than 50,000 names altogether. The leaders realized the goal was too low and upped the challenge to 1,000 names, and they made the challenge not only between the leaders and youth, but also between the different quorums and classes.
“The priests quorum needs to pick it up,” says Kendall Little, 17, who has indexed more names than any of the other teens. “We don’t want to be one of the bottom two classes, because then we have to do dishes on the trip.”
The youth were originally motivated by the competition, but now they say they do indexing because it’s fun, and they know they are helping those who lived before.
“I like to think about the people we are doing this for and how much they must appreciate it,” says Miranda Hyer, 14. “When I first started indexing, I thought they were just old people who lived a long time ago, but they’re not that different from us.”
One of the big differences between the times of the people in the records and today is the writing style used. The youth said the only hard thing about indexing is trying to figure out how the names are spelled when the writing is hard to read.
“Some of the cursive writing is like hieroglyphics,” says Jason Trauntvein, 12. “My mom would have to come and help me.”
Being able to distinguish names that were difficult to read taught the youth that they were doing the work of the Lord and that He was helping them.
Amanda says there were times when she would think she knew what a name was while she was indexing and then just have a feeling that it was something else. “Then I’d look at it again and I’d see that it clearly said the name I was feeling,” she says. “Those were really good experiences.”
Having experiences helping those who lived in the past has also helped these youth strengthen their testimonies and live in the world today.
“Doing indexing helped show me the importance of temple work,” says Kendall. “I also know that God is willing to help us and give us the answers if we’ll just listen to Him.”
The willingness to provide this service is something that has changed them. And it’s also given them something worthwhile to do during their free time.
One time when Trevor had some extra time after taking a biology test in a class, he got on a computer and started indexing. Other students were on the computers playing games although the teacher told them not to. “The kids who were playing games got in trouble,” Trevor says, “but the teacher just told me to finish up my batch.”
The youth say being able to index names has been a satisfying endeavor, and counting the names they have indexed is way better than any score they could get on a computer or video game.
All of those names the youth indexed are real people who lived before, so there are thousands of Heavenly Father’s children being affected by their efforts with indexing, people Kendall says he hopes to meet one day.
“If you think about it, you’re kind of making lots of friends that you’re going to go meet eventually when you die,” he says. “Then they’ll all come and say, ‘Thanks for doing my name,’ because without you their work may have never been done.”
Receiving so many blessings has taught these youth and their leaders something many Church members have discovered: indexing is easy, fun, rewarding, and engrossing.

The dorm was quiet Saturday night because nearly everyone except Carol was on a date. She studied until 10:30 and went to bed.
A little past midnight the overhead light flashed on, and her roommate Natalie bounced in and gleefully announced her engagement to David. For the next 15 minutes she sat on Carol’s bed and gave a complete playback.
Finally she stopped, looked seriously at Carol, and said, “Oh, I’m sorry. How must you feel listening to me go on and on?”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s not fair that I’m a junior and engaged and you’re a senior with no prospects. You must hate me.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“How can you be? This is your last semester. If you don’t find anyone now, what’ll become of you?”
“Don’t worry,” Carol said nonchalantly.
“You’re so brave,” Natalie said, “but don’t worry. Now that I’m engaged, I’ll devote my efforts to helping you find someone. Now don’t fall asleep because while I brush my teeth I’m going to plan it all out.”
As soon as she left, Carol’s smile vanished. What would she do if nobody ever asked her to get married? She never used to think about it, but lately it kept surfacing, like some Loch Ness monster in her mind.
A minute later, smelling of toothpaste, Natalie returned. “I’ve got it all figured out. You can date David’s roommate—his name is Tom. He’s a senior too, so he must be as desperate as you.”
Natalie spent the next few days coaching Carol, teaching her stock phrases designed to boost a guy’s ego. Carol didn’t find it strange that Natalie believed they were necessary to impress a guy, but what did surprise her was that for the first time in her life, she was trying to fit someone else’s mold, because she very much wanted to find a husband.
David and Tom were invited for supper on Saturday evening. Carol hoped that Tom would not be too much like David, who never seemed completely human to her. She could imagine that he was a cleverly made robot, and that someone plugged him in at night to recharge his battery pack. Also there was his smell—the aroma of the chemistry lab always permeated his clothes.
At least Tom was not a chemistry major, Carol thought. He was a civil engineering student specializing in concrete, one who had brought fame to the school by designing and building a concrete canoe which actually floated and had won a race against other colleges.
By the time Saturday night arrived, Carol was wearing Natalie’s dress, sporting her hair style, and mouthing the guaranteed phrases.
Finally the time arrived and so did David and Tom. Carol’s first reaction to meeting Tom was to inhale sharply, trying to find out if the rancid smell coming from the pair was from David or Tom. Was it nitric acid or sulfur dioxide, she wondered, trying to remember back to her high school chemistry class.
“Well, let’s get acquainted, shall we?” David said heartily, attempting to be warm and human. “Carol, I keep forgetting—what’s your major?”
“Music education,” she said, repeating the answer to the question David asked each time he came to pick up Natalie. It was his version of conversation.
“Oh sure,” he said with a superior grin. “You came to college to learn how to sing songs and play games—right?”
“Actually,” Carol said, fighting to maintain her pleasant smile, which Natalie stressed was a necessity for the evening, “it’s a difficult discipline.”
“Oh sure. I bet you have to learn how to use the pitch pipe, don’t you?” David said, laughing at his little joke.
Tom turned to her and said, “I’m sure there must be more to it than just singing songs.”
She liked him for rescuing her from David’s superiority complex. She leaned toward him and took a whiff. He was not the one who smelled like rotten eggs. It must be David.
“Yes, there is,” she said.
“Would you like to tell me about it?” Tom asked.
“Oh, there’s not much to tell. Besides, I’m dying to hear about your concrete canoe. I heard about you winning the race against the other schools.”
“Well, it floated. That’s one of the most important things you want in a canoe.”
“And you built it yourself?” she said, gushing the way Natalie had taught her.
“It wasn’t that hard.”
“Oh, I could never do anything as complicated as that. You must be so smart.”
Natalie winked at her to tell her she was doing well with Tom, and then she left to borrow something from another apartment. David sat down and played with his $700 programmable calculator.
A few minutes later Tom again asked about her major, and she offered to show him what she was doing that semester. She went to her room and returned with a tuba mouthpiece.
“Where’d you get that?” he asked.
“Brass workshop,” she said.
His eyes widened in astonishment. “You made that in a brass workshop?”
“No,” she laughed, “a brass instrument workshop. I have to learn to play every instrument, and right now it’s the tuba.”
She showed him how to hold his lips for the mouthpiece.
“I’ve always wanted to play the tuba,” he said.
“I brought it home for the weekend. If you want, I’ll bring it out for you to try.”
In a minute she was back from her room with the tuba.
“Play me a song first,” he said.
“This will be ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’,” she said, preparing to play. With some difficulty, she made it through.
“When I hear that song on the tuba,” he said, “I picture a two-ton lamb who roams the fields scaring the socks off the local coyotes.”
He’s got a sense of humor, she thought approvingly.
Just then Natalie returned, took one look at the tuba, and said icily, “Carol, could I have a word with you in private?”
They went to their room.
“What on earth are you doing?” she asked. “Do you think a guy will fall in love with a girl tuba player?”
“He seems interested in it.”
“Oh sure, he’ll say he’s interested, and he’ll let you make a fool of yourself, but let me tell you, when it comes to taking a girl home to meet his parents, it won’t be the girl with the tuba. No sir!”
“Why not?”
“Tubas aren’t feminine! You can play the piano or the violin or the clarinet for him, but the girl who plays the tuba will never marry.”
If there had been anyone else waiting in the kitchen, she might have argued with Natalie about the tuba, but she felt a deepening interest in Tom, and in the worst way didn’t want to harm her chances.
“What should I do?” Carol asked.
“I’ll get David to put the tuba away. Here, you put on this crocheted shawl of mine and go in there and imply you made it.”
“Imply?”
“Just go in and ask him how he likes your homemade shawl. Say to him, ‘Alhm made this shawl.’”
“I don’t want to lie.”
“It’s not lying. There’s a lady down the street, her last name is Alhm, and she made it, so you can tell him that Alhm made this shawl.”
A few minutes later Natalie coached Carol in the kitchen with the shawl.
“Are you cold?” Tom asked, looking at the shawl.
Carol wasn’t sure what she should answer so she looked at Natalie who nodded her head. “Yes, a little.” Then her conscience got the best of her. “No, not really.”
“It’s pretty.”
Natalie looked sharply at Carol and waited.
Finally she did it. “Alhm made this shawl,” she whispered.
“I can’t hear you. What did you say?”
“Alhm made this shawl.”
“Really? You made it?”
She looked down at the floor and knew she was blushing, and then shook her head and said, “No, not me, a Sister Alhm made it. I don’t know anything about crocheting.”
Natalie cleared her throat and asked to see Carol again. They both returned to their room.
“Why can’t you just do what I say? Then he’d fall for you. Don’t you like him?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Then just do what I say.”
“I’ve never lied like that. It makes me nervous. And I don’t like the idea of putting up a phony image.”
“Everyone does it—it’s a part of life to hide things from others. Listen to me. I can make him fall in love with you if you’ll just cooperate. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, but who would he love?”
“He’d love you.”
“Which me—the real me or the phony one?”
“What does it matter as long as he asks you to marry him? Okay, we’ll forget the shawl, and I won’t ask you to lie. I’ll go in and ask you to drain the spaghetti, and David and I will leave to borrow some dessert goblets. You say to him, ‘Tom, this pot of spaghetti is so heavy. You’re so strong. Could I get you to lift it from the stove and help drain it?’ And after he does it, you tell him how wonderful he is.”
“I’ve drained spaghetti by myself since I was ten years old,” Carol said quietly.
“I know, but men need to feel strong and masculine, especially these days when they’ve been replaced by electricity. Besides, what’s the harm? Men are supposed to be strong, aren’t they?”
A few minutes later Tom lifted the large pot off the stove onto the counter next to the sink.
“You’re so strong,” Carol said, nearly choking at the words. She dumped several pitchers of cold water on the noodles to rinse them out, and then asked him to tip the pot so the water would run out.
“How’s that?” he asked.
“A little more.”
He tipped it too much, causing the noodles to rush into the kitchen sink, at the same time spilling water all over their shoes.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Don’t worry about it. Just think of the mess I would’ve made if I’d tried to do it myself.”
She went to her room, found another pair of shoes for herself, and decided the only thing she had that he could wear was her ancient slippers with the bunny face on each toe. They were well worn with all but one of the button eyes missing and one bunny ear gone.
“Golly, look at them,” he laughed as she brought him the slippers.
“I got ’em as a joke my first semester here. I’ve worn them for nearly four years now.”
“Poor bunny rabbit,” he said, looking at the one eye on one of the slippers. “Do you ever write imaginary talks?” he said. “Brothers and Sisters, each of us in life is given a new pair of bunny slippers. But what do we do with them? For some of us, the little ears have come off, and we haven’t got around to sewing them back on. Brothers and Sisters, what have you done with life’s bunny rabbit slippers?”
She smiled and told him he was clever. She wanted to say more but was afraid it might be the wrong thing.
They had left the water on to let the spaghetti rinse itself out, and soon heard the water overflowing onto the floor.
Tom turned the water off and scooped the noodles out and plopped them back in the pot. The entire drain pipe was crammed shut with noodles.
Just then David and Natalie returned with the dessert goblets.
“Why are you both looking down the drain?” David asked.
“It’s clogged,” Tom said.
“Let me take a look,” David said, scooting Tom and Carol out of his way. After carefully examining the situation for a while, he summed it up, “There’s noodles in your drain pipe. That’s your problem.”
Carol backed away from David. Maybe it was hydrochloric acid she was smelling.
“Somebody forgot to put the stopper in the drain,” David said ominously.
“I always put the stopper in the drain,” Natalie said self-righteously.
“Well, somebody forgot,” David said. “If the stopper had been where it belongs, the drain pipe wouldn’t now be full of noodles.”
Natalie and David looked with silent accusation toward Carol.
Tom took a large knife and stuck it down the drain pipe, trying to cut the noodles into little pieces.
“No, no, that’s not the way!” David barked. “If we’re going to do a job, then let’s do it properly. We’ve first got to remove the trap down below. Let me show you.”
With a flair for the dramatic, David opened the cupboard below the sink and pointed. “You see that bend in the drain pipe there? That’s what we call the trap. Do you see it there, Natalie?”
“Oh yes,” she said, “there it is. Oh, David, you’re so smart. How did you ever know about that? I’ve never noticed it before. So that’s the trap.”
“I’ve got a pair of pliers in my car,” Tom said.
“No, not pliers,” David said, on his knees looking at the trap. “Pliers would be the very worst thing to use. Let me give you some advice. In plumbing, if you use the wrong tool, you can harm your threads. Do you know how many people end up buying new fixtures because they’ve harmed their threads?”
Carol wanted to put her hand on Tom’s arm and tell him she didn’t care about plumbing threads, but she didn’t say anything. Natalie hadn’t coached her about what to say when the drain is clogged.
“You know,” David continued, “it’s a good thing I always carry a set of tools in my car. Natalie, will you take this key, go out to the car, open the trunk, and bring me a pipe wrench?”
“I can get it for you,” Tom offered.
“No, no. Natalie and I are a team, aren’t we, dear?”
“With you telling me what to do, we are.”
“While you’re doing that, I’ll clear away this junk down below so we can get to the trap.”
“You’re so smart,” Natalie said before leaving.
A minute later she returned with the wrench.
David, whose head was in the cupboard, pushed himself out, took one look at the wrench and scowled. “No, dear,” he said, his voice grating, “this is a crescent wrench and I asked for a pipe wrench. Can you go out again and get me a pipe wrench?”
Natalie smiled faintly and looked as if she were going to cry.
“Now what’s wrong?”
“I left the keys in the trunk.”
David sat up on the floor and stared at her. “Why would you do a dumb thing like that?”
“I had to go through the entire tool chest, and I must’ve set the keys down while I was looking.”
“You left the keys in the trunk and then closed it?”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Sorry isn’t going to open the trunk, is it? Without the keys, how am I going to get back to the lab and check my experiment? Well, we’ll just have to get the keys, that’s all.”
“I’m sorry,” Natalie pleaded.
“I have to watch you all the time, don’t I?”
That’s when Carol realized that if you play the role of being less than you are, then before long people will treat you that way. Suddenly she didn’t want to play the games Natalie had set for her, even if it meant that Tom was turned off by it, because she realized that she was important and if she didn’t treat herself with respect, nobody else would.
From now on, I’m going to be me, she thought. And if that turns the guy off, then that’s tough.
Natalie started to sniffle. “I’ve ruined the whole evening, haven’t I?”
“Maybe next time you’ll remember to make sure you have the keys with you when you close the trunk,” David continued.
“Yes, dear, I will.”
“Well, it’s water under the bridge, isn’t it? We’ll have to take out the back seat, crawl in through there, get the keys, and fix the drain. We might as well get going.”
“I don’t think I want to go out and watch,” Carol said.
“Aren’t you going to help us?” David said.
“I don’t think so. We’ll just stand around watching you do everything, and I don’t want to do that.”
She realized that Tom was looking at her with a bewildered expression on his face.
“The least you can do is come out and show some interest,” Natalie said. “It’s your fault the drain was clogged anyway. The least you can do is show appreciation to David for making things right.”
“Maybe David will need some help,” Tom said, trying to smooth things over.
“All right,” she said, walking over to the tuba.
“I hope you aren’t planning on taking that outside,” Natalie said.
“I am,” she answered.
“You’ll never get married,” Natalie whispered as she marched past her. Carol followed after her playing “Mary Had a Little Lamb.”
To watch David giving a detailed description of everything he was doing one would have thought he was the first man on the moon.
Tom and Carol sat on the hood of the car and traded off playing the tuba. Every few minutes, Natalie would look up from her reverential attention to David’s work and give them a withering glance because they were not paying sufficient homage to his efforts.
After David had retrieved the keys, fixed the drain, and cleaned out the trap, he decided to return to the lab to check on his experiment. Natalie left with him.
Carol and Tom sat in the kitchen, talked, and played the tuba.
“You know,” Tom said contentedly, “this is a picture, isn’t it? Me here in these bunny slippers, you playing songs on the tuba. I think I could do this forever.”
“That won’t be possible,” she said, finding enough courage to tease him.
“Why not?”
“Next Wednesday I have to turn in my tuba, and it’ll all come to an end.”
“And then what?” he asked, looking as if he had a little more than tubas on his mind.
She looked at him for a second, smiled, and said, “The trombone.”
“Ah, the trombone,” he repeated with a grin. “One of my favorites.”
Two weeks later, if you had been standing on the shore, you might have marveled at the sight of the handsome couple in a concrete canoe, the guy paddling slowly along the shoreline while the girl happily played a love song on the trombone.
Well, it wasn’t actually a love song. It was “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” But it was played with deep feeling.

When I was about eleven, something wonderful happened to my family. My parents decided to start going to church. A few years later, my family traveled to Salt Lake City to be sealed in the temple. It was a very cold day in January, snowy and foggy. The temple was strikingly beautiful. For some reason, I remember its engraved doorknobs. I also remember walking into the beautiful sealing room and seeing my family, aunts, uncles, and family friends. It was so wonderful to have everyone there!

Back in Salt Lake City, Janet McMurrin was tending to her dying father. In a conversation about the spirit world, she asked him when he went beyond the veil to tell Grandfather McMurrin that the family were unable to find any of his genealogy to do work for in the temple. He agreed to deliver the message, and shortly thereafter died.
A little time later, about the time that Elder McMurrin was being transferred to Ireland, Janet had a dream in which her father appeared to her. He informed her that he had delivered her message and had now come to tell her that “42 Islington” would do all the rest. With this she awoke and wondered what he could have meant by 42 Islingto”. Members in England at the time would have been able to tell her, but she had to wait for Elder McMurrin’s letter telling her of his changed assignment, one given him by the British Mission President, whose office was at 42 Islington, Liverpool.
When we do all we can, the Lord will do the rest.

When President Hinckley said to read the Book of Mormon, I told Mom that I would do it. She wasn’t sure I could, but I worked really hard, reading whenever I had time. Some nights I stayed up reading with Mom. I finished three weeks before my eighth birthday. My dad showed me a special scripture in Moroni that says to pray about the Book of Mormon and ask if it’s true. When I read the Book of Mormon I felt the Spirit, and I was so happy when I finished it. I hope you’ll be happy when you finish it too.

Recently my magnificent 92-year-old mother passed away. She left this mortal existence as she had lived—quietly. Her life was not what she had planned. Her husband, my father, passed away when he was 45, leaving her with three children—me and my two brothers. She lived 47 years as a widow. She supported our family by teaching school during the day and teaching piano lessons at night. She cared for her aging father, my grandfather, who lived next door. She made sure that each of us received a college education. In fact, she insisted on it so that we could be “contributors.” And she never complained. She kept her covenants, and because she did, she called down the powers of heaven to bless our home and to send miracles. She relied on the power of prayer, priesthood, and covenant promises. She was faithful in her service to the Lord. Her steadfast devotion steadied us, her children. She often repeated the scripture: “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise.”4 That was her motto, and she knew it was true. She understood what it meant to be a covenant keeper. She was never recognized by the world. She didn’t want that. She understood who she was and whose she was—a daughter of God. Indeed, it can be said of our mother that she acted well her part.

Until I attended a sacrament meeting in the San Miguel Ward, Lima Perú Maranga Stake, my only knowledge of the Church came from my father. He had been a member for many years but did not attend.
Unfortunately, my first impression at the meeting was not very favorable. I expected to see a lot of Americans, but there were none. The man conducting the meeting was not particularly striking or imposing—he had a slightly heavy build and not much hair.
By the end of the meeting I realized my mistake. The man gave the concluding address, and he spoke with authority on parents’ responsibility to teach their children. When he finished, I felt a burning feeling, difficult to describe, in my chest. I soon learned that this man was the bishop.
Eventually I was baptized, and the bishop and I became good friends. One day, he asked me to find out if my father would speak with him. I tried to avoid responding to his request, but he persisted until I did as he asked. I was surprised to find that my father would be happy to have the bishop visit.
The bishop soon came to our house and spoke with my father. I stayed upstairs, praying with all my heart that all would go well. After their conversation, they called me to come down, and I saw the bishop and my father affectionately saying good-bye.
The following Sunday, my father attended church for the first time in more than 20 years. Two months later, he was called to serve as the bishop’s first counselor.
My first impression could not have been more wrong. Our bishop’s service has blessed me and my family abundantly. I know that our Church leaders are called of God and are inspired in the counsel they give us.

Illustration by Dan Burr
Having been raised in a competitive and non-religious Asian country, I have always had a great desire to become a successful person, but I didn’t have any eternal principles or truths to guide me. In my country, “successful” meant being rich and powerful.
My parents always taught me that there was no such thing as God. For them, religion or God was a bunch of nonsense and only for weak people. For a long time I considered myself atheist. They taught me that I shouldn’t trust anyone but myself. So from a young age I have used my high ambitions as motivation to study and work extremely hard.
My parents had high expectations for me. They wanted me to keep my grades high at all times. It made me sad to see their disappointed faces or to hear them argue with each other when I got a bad grade. Along with my regular schoolwork, I would also have to do extra homework on the weekend so I could keep an A average.
Even after accomplishing goals I had set, I still felt that there was something more in store for my life. Deep in my heart, I knew that surely there had to be more to it.
One day I decided I was going to find out for myself if there really was a God. If He did exist, I wanted to know what He wanted for me or if religion was just a bunch of nonsense created by the imagination of human beings. I was not afraid to receive either one of these two answers. I just wanted the truth.
Around that same time, I became close friends with one of my basketball teammates named Taylor. One morning I asked him for a ride to school. He said yes, but I would have to get up an hour earlier to go to seminary with him. I reluctantly said yes, not knowing what it was. I enjoyed seminary, though more because of what I felt than what I learned.
Soon after that, Taylor asked me to go to church with him. At first I thought church was a little boring and weird, but eventually I was moved by the warm and peaceful feeling that I felt at the service.
However, I still wasn’t persuaded that the good feeling had anything to do with God. How did I know that it didn’t come from myself? How did I know that I didn’t make myself feel that way?
After many internal debates, I went to Taylor’s mom in search of answers. She told me that I could receive my answers by reading the scriptures and praying about the answers that I was looking for. I prayed without receiving any answers and struggled to obey the rules and commandments that I was learning about. I became frustrated many times. I expected a marvelous and dramatic appearance of God or some sort of miraculous event to prove that God was real. Basically, I wanted an unshakable testimony all at once. The truth is, the more I prayed, the more clarity I felt in my life. The more I followed the commandments, the happier I became. The more I read the scriptures, the more revelation I received. Gradually, my testimony increased, like the rising sun in the morning.
It took me two years to decide to be baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Though I lived many good moral standards and principles before, I can now say that I have found the eternal and ultimate truth: God lives. Jesus is the Christ, our Savior and Redeemer. The heavens are open. A prophet of God walks the earth today. The Atonement of Jesus Christ is real. God really does forgive all repentant sinners. I may not be as smart or as gifted as other people, but the knowledge I have is priceless.

I always pray for guidance from Heavenly Father when I design a building or for anything in my life. I love Heavenly Father and the Savior, and I know They know me personally. I grew up in Star Valley, Wyoming, USA, and as an architect I helped design the new Star Valley temple! My son, Micah, even helped me turn a shovel of dirt at the groundbreaking. It is a blessing to help create a building that can bless so many lives.

Micah’s very first word was “Why?” From that day on, he asked questions. He asked about clouds, rainbows, rivers, and trees. He asked about books, trains, kings, and skyscrapers.
He liked to think about new things. His mom and dad couldn’t keep up with all the answers he needed. They even bought encyclopedias so that they could look up answers they weren’t sure about. And then one day, when Micah was seven, he asked a very important question: “Mom, how do I know for sure that Heavenly Father is real?”
Mom put down the jar of baby food she’d just taken from the fridge and turned to smile at him. “I’m glad you’re thinking about that, Micah. It’s only a few months until you’ll be old enough to be baptized, and it’s important to know about the promises you’ll be making. Knowing about Heavenly Father is the first step.”
“Oh, I know about Him, Mom. I’ve had lots of Primary lessons, and we’ve read about Him in the scriptures. But how do I find out if it’s really true?”
Mom sat down at the kitchen table and looked Micah right in the eye. “If you want a testimony of your own, you’ll have to do some hard work. You’ve seen lots of people stand up on fast Sunday and bear their testimonies. They tell what they believe.”
“Oh, yeah, like how Sister Thomas always talks about how she loves the temple, and Brother Matsom always cries when he gets to the part about Jesus.”
“Right. And have you noticed how you feel when people are bearing their testimonies?”
“Sometimes I feel warm and happy inside.”
“That’s the Holy Ghost telling you that you are hearing something true. If you want to find your own testimony, you’ll have to pray and ask for help, you’ll have to remember to study your scriptures, and you’ll have to try very hard to keep the commandments so that Heavenly Father will know that you are serious about wanting an answer.”
“I can do that.”
For the next two weeks, Micah’s mom and dad were amazed at how hard Micah worked. He played happily with his brother, Sam, and didn’t get angry. He watched his baby sister while Mom talked with her visiting teachers. He even picked up his toys the first time he was asked. When Dad sat down in the evening before bed to read the Book of Mormon with him, Micah tried very hard to listen and even sounded out a lot of the words himself. But one night Micah didn’t seem happy.
“Is something bothering you, Son?”
“Dad, I’ve been trying for two weeks now. I’ve been really, really good. I’ve read. I’ve prayed. And I’ve been nice! But I still don’t know if Heavenly Father is real or not.”
Dad nodded. “I can understand why you’re frustrated. Sometimes Heavenly Father makes us wait a little while for our answers so that when they do come, they mean more to us.”
“Why would He make me wait? I want to know if He’s real. If I don’t get an answer, then He must not be real.”
Dad put his arm around Micah. “Why don’t we see if there’s an answer in the scriptures?” He opened the Book of Mormon to Ether 12:6 and read, “‘faith is things which are hoped for and not seen; wherefore, dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith.’”
“What’s a trial?” Micah asked. “Mom got a squishy little packet of shampoo in the mail last week that said ‘trial’ on it, but I don’t see how washing my hair is going to help.”
“Well,” Dad said, “That little packet is so a person like your mom can try out a new shampoo and see if she likes it before she buys a big bottle. Mom gives the shampoo a trial so that she can see if it does what she wants it to. When Heavenly Father gives us a trial, it’s kind of like that. He wants to see if we do what He wants us to, even if it’s hard.”
“So Heavenly Father is waiting to see if I’m going to give up or not?”
“A testimony is one of the most important things He can give you. If you were going to give someone a very special present, wouldn’t you want to make sure that person really wanted it and would take care of it?”
“Yes, I guess so.”
“There are all kinds of miracles, Micah. Some of them are big and flashy, like Moses parting the Red Sea, but most of them are quiet, and the quietest of all is when the Holy Ghost talks to us about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. Be patient, Son, and listen carefully.”
That night, long after everyone had gone to bed, Micah had a nightmare. It was terrible, and Micah woke up afraid to move. He was too scared to go into Mom and Dad’s room, too scared even to cry out for them to come to him. As he huddled under his blanket, he wondered what he could do to feel better. Last Sunday, his Primary teacher had told his class that when you are very afraid, you should pray for comfort.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” he whispered, “I really need help. I’ve tried very hard to find out if You’re there, and I know I’m supposed to be patient, but I can’t wait any longer. I’m scared.”
As soon as Micah finished his prayer, he heard a noise in the hall. Suddenly the bathroom light switched on, and Dad peeked around the edge of Micah’s bedroom door.
“Are you all right?” Dad said softly. “All of a sudden I woke up, and I’m sure I heard a voice say, ‘Micah needs you.’ What happened?”
“I had a really bad dream, Dad.”
“Oh? Why the big smile then?”
“When I was scared, Heavenly Father heard my prayer and woke you up. He has to be real because He helped me when I asked. You know, it doesn’t matter if it’s not a big, flashy miracle as long as it’s just what you need.”
Dad sat on the edge of Micah’s bed and hugged him tightly. “That’s right, Micah,” he said. “That’s right.”

In the early 1980s, my father, who suffered from severe heart disease, underwent a heart operation that we hoped would prolong his life.
At the time, the innovative procedure the surgeons used was new to Uruguay. Surgeons replaced the aortic valve with an artificial valve. Eventually, that procedure became commonplace and has saved countless lives.
Because the surgery involved this revolutionary surgical procedure, several cardiologists attended, observing the operation. While surgeons operated, my mother sat worried in the waiting room. The hours seemed endless.
We rejoiced when we learned that the operation was a complete success. Upon exiting the operating room, one of the surgeons separated from the other surgeons and went to the waiting room. He was a visiting surgeon who had come to Uruguay to supervise the operation.
He approached my mother, stopped, and touched her reassuringly on the shoulder. Then, looking into her eyes, he said, “Everything will be all right.”
The surgeon was correct. My father lived another 24 years, serving the Lord with all his heart—now healthy—until the last day of his life.
During the Church’s most recent general conference, my mother was reminded of that special visit so many years ago. In fact, she’s reminded every time that visiting surgeon—President Russell M. Nelson—speaks to the Saints.
All of the Lord’s prophets are special to us in some way. Some are special because they served as President of the Church while we were young. Some are special because they served as President when we got baptized. For my mother and me, President Nelson is special because he knows that every serious medical procedure touches not just the patient but that patient’s loved ones as well. He knows that family members need words of encouragement, strength, and reassurance when the health or life of a loved one is in jeopardy.
We will always be grateful for President Nelson’s words of reassurance long ago in Uruguay and for his life of service to Heavenly Father and Heavenly Father’s children.

“Set a goal; then eliminate anything that stands in the way of achieving it.” I read the words on the poster and cringed. It was impossible to make it through class without looking at the clock—which meant looking at the poster right next to it, too. And I didn’t want to see that dumb poster.
I turned away from it to focus my thoughts on Dennis. We had been dating for a while, and I couldn’t imagine loving anyone else. The problem was that he wasn’t a member of the Church, and I had set a goal a long time ago to be married in the temple. According to the poster, I needed to eliminate Dennis! I pushed the thought of breaking up with him out of my head. Maybe I could convert him.
At lunch I decided to give it a try. I steered our conversation in a more serious direction, then gathered my courage and began sharing my beliefs, including temple marriage for eternity. Dennis liked the idea. I could feel the Spirit, so I bore my testimony.
Dennis was thoughtful. Finally he replied, “I know that if you know your church is true, then I will know it is true, too, someday.”
I was ecstatic! If Dennis joined the Church that would solve all my problems. I began by inviting him to church the next Sunday. He really wanted to come, but his family already had plans. He had equally good excuses for not coming the next two Sundays as well, and I understood.
As I lay in bed one night thinking about my situation, the words from that poster at school came into my head. “Set a goal; then eliminate anything that stands in the way of achieving it.” Converting Dennis was going to be a bigger challenge than I had thought. What if he never joined the Church? Or what if he joined but was not really converted? My only other choice was to break up with him. The thought turned my stomach cold. I didn’t have that kind of courage. It would be like breaking my leg.
My heart ached, knowing that keeping Dennis meant I would have to change my goal. I thought of my possible future—attending church alone; raising children with someone who didn’t live the Word of Wisdom; calling my home teachers, not my husband, when a priesthood blessing was needed. And what about eternity? Celestial marriage was a requirement to achieve exaltation with Heavenly Father; this was what I knew I had the potential to achieve. And I was going to give it all up for Dennis, because I didn’t have the courage to spend my earthly life without him?
I had to break up with Dennis.
I was shocked at myself for considering it. But then suddenly the sweetest, most reassuring peace filled me from head to toe. Heavenly Father was speaking to me through the Holy Ghost. Tears came to my eyes. I had to break up with Dennis, and I could do it. Heavenly Father would give me the courage.
The next day during lunch my heart began to pound. I’ll do it tomorrow, I told myself. I could feel my cheeks getting hot.
“What’s wrong?” Dennis asked.
I took a deep breath then blurted, “I have to break up with you!”
Dennis froze. He looked shocked.
“I can’t marry you. I have to break up—now.”
Tears came quickly to his eyes. “But I want you to teach me about your church,” he said.
I swallowed my own tears. “I want to teach you too, but I want to teach you when I know you will join because you know it is true and not because of me.”
I said a silent prayer that he would understand. After a moment of agonizing silence, he asked, “Will you date me again if I join your church someday?”
“Of course!” I nearly sprang out of my chair with joy.
“Promise you won’t forget to teach me,” he said.
I promised.
For weeks my heart throbbed in pain. Every time I saw Dennis I prayed for the strength not to change my mind. We both survived, and our lives took different directions. I never dated a nonmember again, for fear of having to repeat such a painful experience.
Several years later, on summer break from college, I saw Dennis and remembered my promise. Even though I didn’t feel the same way about him anymore and had no intention of ever marrying him, a promise was a promise. I called him up that night and invited him to church. I wasn’t really surprised to hear that he still wasn’t interested.
As I hung up the phone, how grateful I was to my Heavenly Father for giving me the help and the strength I needed to get myself back on the path where I belonged. And how thankful I was for that poster in my class that pointed me in the right direction. Maybe that poster wasn’t so dumb after all.

Dad, can I invite Jacob to church today?
That’s a good idea, Eric. I’ll call his home for you.
My mom said I could go to church with you!
Great!
Eric and Jacob had a good time at church. They learned about prayer and sang songs during sharing time. Eric was glad he invited Jacob.
The next week, Eric called Jacob again.
Do you want to come to church with me today?
No, not today. I’m going to play at my grandma’s house.
Oh, OK.
Are we picking up Jacob today?
No, he said he didn’t want to come today.
How does that make you feel?
A little sad.
I’m sorry you’re sad. Remember that Heavenly Father lets us all choose for ourselves. Maybe you can invite Jacob another time.
Dad, can I invite him next week?
You sure can. You are a good friend.
Eric called Jacob again the next week.
Do you want to come to church with me today?
Sure.
Eric was glad Jacob went to church with him again. Eric knew that Jacob could choose for himself if he wanted to go to church or not, but he decided to always invite Jacob in order to give him the chance.

I had another experience in a very important area in the Church. Unfortunately, two Church leaders had become embroiled in a feud and neither would yield.

I had held a stake conference all day and had gone without my supper and had traveled over a range of mountains to meet these unhappy people.

Hour after hour we served, and begged, and endeavored to convince them to change their minds and get them together, all to no avail.

Eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve o’clock, one, and two o’clock and the night was going fast, and I was very, very weary. I flipped open my Doctrine and Covenants again. Automatically it turned to page 105 and I read it to them. They almost gasped for wonder, and this is what we read:

“Nevertheless, he has sinned; but verily I say unto you, I, the Lord, forgive sins unto those who confess their sins before me and ask forgiveness, who have not sinned unto death.

“My disciples, in days of old, sought occasion against one another and forgave not one another in their hearts; and for this evil they were afflicted and sorely chastened.

“Wherefore, I say unto you, that ye ought to forgive one another; for he that forgiveth not his brother his trespasses standeth condemned before the Lord; for there remaineth in him the greater sin.

“I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men.

“And ye ought to say in your hearts—let God judge between me and thee, and reward thee according to thy deeds.

“And him that repenteth not of his sins, and confesseth them not, ye shall bring before the church, and do with him as the scripture saith unto you, either by commandment or by revelation.” (D&C 64:7–12.)

I could feel the two antagonists were yielding, and I read the Lord’s Prayer, wherein He said,

“But when ye pray, use not vain repetitions, as the heathen do. …

“For your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him.

“After this manner … pray ye: Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name.

“Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.

“Give us this day our daily bread.

“And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.” (Matt. 6:7–13.)

As though he needed to refresh their minds, the Lord returned to the theme:

“For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you:

“But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.” (Matt. 6:14–15.)

Hard to do? Of course. The Lord never promised an easy road, nor a simple gospel, nor low standards, nor a low norm. The price is high, but the goods attained are worth all they cost. The Lord himself turned the other cheek; he suffered himself to be buffeted and beaten without remonstrance; he suffered every indignity and yet spoke no word of condemnation. And his question to all of us is: “Therefore, what manner of men ought ye to be?” And his answer to us is: “Even as I am.” (3 Ne. 27:27.)

In his The Prince of Peace, William Jennings Bryan wrote:

“The most difficult of all the virtues to cultivate is the forgiving spirit. Revenge seems to be natural with man; it is human to want to get even with an enemy. It has even been popular to boast of vindictiveness; it was once inscribed on a man’s monument that he had repaid both friends and enemies more than he had received. This was not the spirit of Christ.” (Independence, Zion’s Printing and Publishing Company, 1925, p. 35.)

If we have been wronged or injured, forgiveness means to blot it completely from our minds. To forgive and forget is an ageless counsel. “To be wronged or robbed,” said the Chinese philosopher Confucius, “is nothing unless you continue to remember it.”

The injuries inflicted by neighbors, by relatives, or by spouses are generally of a minor nature, at least at first. We must forgive them. Since the Lord is so merciful, must not we be? “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy” (3 Ne. 12:7) is another version of the Golden Rule. “All manner of sin and blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men,” said the Lord, “but the blasphemy against the Holy Ghost shall not be forgiven unto men.” (Matt. 12:31.) If the Lord is so gracious and kind, we must be also.

“When such people as the widow, Bishop Kempton, April Aaron and others grievously wronged can forgive; when men like Stephen and Paul can forgive vicious attacks against themselves and set the example of forgiveness; then all men should be able to forgive in their reach for perfection.

“Across the barren deserts of hate and greed and grudge is the beautiful valley of paradise. We read in the papers and hear on TV constantly that the world ‘is in an awful mess.’ Not true! The world is still most beautiful. It is man who is off center. The sun still illumines the day and gives light and life to all things; the moon still brightens the night; oceans still feed the world and provide transportation; rivers still drain the land, and provide irrigation water to nourish crops. Even the ravages of time have not sloughed off the majesty of the mountains. Flowers still bloom and birds still sing, and children still laugh and play. What is wrong with the world is man-made.

“It can be done. Man can conquer self. Man can overcome. Man can forgive all who have trespassed against him and go on to receive peace in this life and eternal life in the world to come.” (The Miracle of Forgiveness, p. 300.)

Now we come to a realization that the kingdom of God and the church of Jesus Christ constitute a world church. It is fast coming to have world dominion. We, its members, must learn to contain ourselves and love all mankind, all our brothers and sisters of every nation and clime. Certainly we shall be wholly without enmity or grudge or ill feeling. We must forgive to be forgiven. Let God be the righteous judge.

We shall love all our neighbors as ourselves and God will bless all of us. Jesus Christ, also our Lord and Savior, is the Lord of this world. God bless us that we may follow closely his dictates, in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Years ago I became acquainted with two families in the process of dissolving a jointly owned commercial enterprise. The principals, two men who were friends and members of the same Christian congregation, had formed the company years earlier. They had a generally congenial relationship as business partners, but as they grew older and the next generation began to take part in the business, conflicts emerged. Finally, all parties decided it would be best to divide up the assets and go their separate ways. One of the two original partners devised a stratagem with his lawyers to secure for himself a significant financial advantage in the dissolution at the expense of the other partner and his sons. In a meeting of the parties, one of the sons complained about this unfair treatment and appealed to the honor and Christian beliefs of the first partner. “You know this is not right,” he said. “How could you take advantage of someone this way, especially a brother in the same church?” The first partner’s lawyer retorted, “Oh, grow up! How can you be so naive?”
Integrity is not naiveté. What is naive is to suppose that we are not accountable to God. The Savior declared, “My Father sent me that I might be lifted up upon the cross; … that as I have been lifted up by men even so should men be lifted up by the Father, to stand before me, to be judged of their works, whether they be good or whether they be evil” (3 Nephi 27:14). One who lives a consecrated life does not seek to take advantage of another but, if anything, will turn the other cheek and, if required to deliver a coat, will give the cloak also (see Matthew 5:39–40). The Savior’s sternest rebukes were to hypocrites. Hypocrisy is terribly destructive, not only to the hypocrite but also to those who observe or know of his or her conduct, especially children. It is faith destroying, whereas honor is the rich soil in which the seed of faith thrives.
A consecrated life is a beautiful thing. Its strength and serenity are “as a very fruitful tree which is planted in a goodly land, by a pure stream, that yieldeth much precious fruit” (D&C 97:9). Of particular significance is the influence of a consecrated man or woman upon others, especially those closest and dearest. The consecration of many who have gone before us and others who live among us has helped lay the foundation for our happiness. In like manner, future generations will take courage from your consecrated life, acknowledging their debt to you for the possession of all that truly matters. May we consecrate ourselves as sons and daughters of God, “that when he shall appear we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is; that we may have this hope” (Moroni 7:48; see also 1 John 3:2), I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

As a young man, I was in the National Guard. I went to Fort Knox, Kentucky, to learn all about tanks and helicopters so that I could be an officer in an armored cavalry unit. While I was there, I made friends with a soldier who was not a member of our church. My friend often teased me because I did not drink or smoke, as he did. I told him about the Word of Wisdom and about other Church teachings.
One day our troop had to run a special kind of race. Every so often along the ten-mile course, we had to stop and pass a test. For example, we might have to figure out why a tank wasn’t running, adjust a machine gun, or do something else we had been learning in our training. My friend and I agreed that this race would be a good test of whose lifestyle was healthier—his or mine.
The men started the race one at a time in alphabetical order, with about a minute between each man. My friend’s last name started with A and mine with C, so he started the race a few minutes before I did. About a third of the way through the course, I saw a truck with a red cross on its side. Inside the ambulance was my friend. Because he did not take good care of his body, he was not physically fit and could not finish the race. I finished in good shape because I had always lived the Word of Wisdom.

“Why do you keep saying that you know this Church is true? What exactly does that mean, and how can you possibly know that?”
My concerned parents asked me those questions when I told them about my decision to be baptized. I thought back on all the missionary lessons I had been attending recently. I remembered asking myself the same questions just weeks before. How did I know the Church was true?
For 17 years I had been content with the little knowledge I had about anything religious. I never realized how much I longed to have a relationship with Christ and my Heavenly Father and feel the peace of the Holy Spirit.
I thought back on the missionaries’ telling the story of Joseph Smith’s First Vision: a young boy seeing God and the Savior, Joseph hearing their words and knowing that what he was seeing was real and true.
Then I remembered my first prayer. Sure, I had prayed many times throughout my life, but this prayer was the first time I had asked my Heavenly Father if what the missionaries were teaching me was real and something from Him. I knew that He wouldn’t lie to me. He wants the best for His children. With that knowledge I prayed with my whole heart.
The Holy Spirit touched me for the first time. I knew that as I said “amen.” I had been told by the missionaries and my close friends who had introduced this new gospel to me that “I would feel of the Spirit, and it would let me know.” I knew that it had.
As I related this story to my parents, who had asked the questions, I felt it again. The Spirit was with me, which meant the Lord was with me also. I once again knew that my choice to be baptized was the right decision.
Standing alone in the dressing room of the meetinghouse a few months later, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Who was this girl wearing a long white gown and staring back at me? As I stood there all by myself, I realized that this was how I had made the decision to join the Church—all by myself. But I also realized I was not truly alone. The Spirit was strong. In a few moments, I would be the newest member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
The door swung open, and in came my close friends, friends who had decided to share a message about their Church with me a few months earlier.
“Are you ready?” they asked.
We walked out toward the chapel. I thought again about my first prayer and the Spirit I had felt. I knew the Church was true, and because I knew that, I was ready.

A few days ago, I went to a local supermarket, quite late at night. I had had a long day. Working with clients and then studying, my day didn’t finish until 10 p.m. I decided to just run in and grab a few items.
The night was cold, and I was glad to finish and load my shopping in my car. As I did so, a woman approached me and asked me for some help. I imagined that she wanted a coin for a trolley or something like that. She looked a little dishevelled. She began a long explanation about not having any money, and that she and her partner had hoped to purchase £5 worth of petrol for their car, because this particular petrol station made a charge on cards 24 hours later and they didn’t have any money until the following day, only to find that the petrol station was closed. Now they would have to travel further to buy what they needed, with no funds available.
I explained that unfortunately, I didn’t have any cash or my cards with me. I only had my phone. I was aware that the night was dark and cold, and I knew I wanted to help, but felt I couldn’t. She then asked me if I would transfer some money into her bank, using my phone. I admit, I did not want to do that! Now I was having to really ask myself what kind of human being I was. I had to balance my wish to just go home, to let myself off the hook, with my desire to be helpful. I could reassure myself that my intention was to be kind, but honestly, transfer money into a stranger’s bank account? What if this was a scam? What if I was being tricked?
Then she asked me if I would call her partner, to allow him to give me his bank details (he was in the supermarket, trying to find a solution.) Everything in me wanted to say no, and yet another part of me said, “it’s cold and dark, you can’t just leave them here.” I wanted my faith to be convenient! In my version of this story, I would give her £5 that I happened to have in my purse (that I had not left at home), and then get on and feel good about myself. I wanted her to accept that I didn’t have any ready cash and go away. I didn’t want to stand about getting cold and feeling anxious and worry about whether I was doing a good thing or being taken advantage of.
Yet through it all, I kept thinking, “it’s cold and dark.” I had to let myself know about the times when I have been cold, in the dark, with no one to help. None of this was easy, or quick, or convenient.
So, I transferred the money and wished them well.