Gospel Story Finder

Buddy Conatser and his wife, Marteena Lanae, had been inactive for almost sixteen years, ever since their baptisms when they were eighteen. No one in the Church had been able to talk to them—certainly no missionaries at least until Vern and Wilma Richins of Draper, Utah, came. When Elder and Sister Richins knocked on their door in Jamestown, Tennessee, Buddy started his usual excuses as soon as he realized who they were. But Elder Richins gestured at the deer head on the living room wall and asked, “Brother Conatser, isn’t that a white-tail deer?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Let me look at it. Who mounted that?”
“I did.”
Buddy invited them in, and for the next two hours they never mentioned the Church. But before they left, Brother Conatser agreed to let them offer a prayer.
Sister Richins also asked, “Wouldn’t you like us to teach your three young daughters about the church you belong to?”
“They go to the church down the road here,” he replied. “They don’t need another one.”
But after a little more conversation, Buddy consented. That was Thursday. Friday was the first discussion. Sunday, the whole family was at church. A week later, the family had attended church the second time and had received four of the missionary discussions. The oldest girl asked, “Brother Richins, when are you going to baptize us?”
“When your mother and father want us to.”
“I want you to,” said Buddy. “Since the first discussion, we’ve quit our smoking and we’ve quit our drinking. And we know the Church is true. We’d been hunting for something without knowing we had it all the time.”
Elder Richins baptized the girls that weekend and ordained Buddy Conatser a priest the next Sunday. During the following months, Elder Richins ordained him an elder, and under the direction of the stake president, set him apart as the second counselor in the branch presidency, then as its president. The Richinses also witnessed the Conatsers sealing ceremony in the Washington Temple.

One night as I was watching the news, something caught my attention. I recognized the reporter as a college classmate. She had achieved her dream of being a newscaster!
“What about me?” I asked myself. “What have I achieved?” I looked at the baby asleep in my arms and thought about the events of the past three years.
I had always thought I would have a career, but when my husband, Charles, and I had our first daughter, Chevy, my priorities changed. I quit my job to care for her. We had faith in Jesus Christ that as long as we paid our tithing and obeyed the commandments, everything would be OK.
Things were going smoothly until, one day, Charles was laid off from his job. We had faith we’d be all right, but we knew we needed to act. We decided I should get a job too, so Charles and I started job hunting. After a few weeks, I was hired at a call center. I hated leaving my nine-month-old with a babysitter every day, but it was our best solution.
Just a month into my job, I found out I was expecting. Fortunately, Charles soon found a job. It didn’t pay much, but it would help. For a while we felt relieved.
My pregnancy became very difficult, and I had to quit my job. At my monthly checkup, we were shocked to discover I was having twins. Charles and I were scared, but we trusted Heavenly Father.
About three and a half months into my pregnancy, I woke up bleeding. I thought I was having a miscarriage, so I went to the hospital. The babies were OK, but the doctor put me on bed rest for the rest of the pregnancy.
Things were becoming so complicated. The hospital bills left our bank account empty, and Charles’s meager income was not enough to provide for our needs. I felt worthless. I could not help earn income or take care of Chevy. I sometimes forgot that I was carrying two special spirit children. I pleaded every day and night with my Heavenly Father for relief. I was terrified of what else could go wrong. But one thought kept returning to my mind: Heavenly Father lives and He knows our needs.
Charles was struggling too, but he stayed strong. He assisted me and cared for Chevy on top of his job. His priesthood blessings comforted me, and his love strengthened me. We were scared, but we faced this new test together.
I did my best to accept the situation. Instead of moping around, I read the scriptures, Church magazines, and good books. I sang hymns too—“How Firm a Foundation” (Hymns, no. 85) in particular made a huge difference. I came closer to my Savior. I realized how much I did have to be thankful for despite our circumstances.
As days went by, we felt God’s hand work in our lives. Big and little miracles popped up everywhere. Our families and friends paid for some of our expenses. I felt their love and concern for our family. The Relief Society presidency assigned one or two sisters to visit me each day. They brought groceries, cooked and cleaned, took care of Chevy, shared spiritual thoughts, and cheered me up. They prayed for my recovery and the continued safety of the twins. We never went hungry. These sisters didn’t know how much their service helped me carry my burden. When the time came, Heavenly Father made my delivery very easy, and both girls were healthy.
Years have passed since that challenging time in our lives, but there hasn’t been a day when we haven’t felt God’s love. Our financial situation is much better now, and our children are growing up to be smart and talented. We are stronger and better prepared for future challenges because we know that Heavenly Father blesses His children in His own time and will never leave them helpless or comfortless. Life is not an easy journey, but God will always be with us and guide us.

In college I had a friend who didn't know anything about our church. I told her there was a prophet on the earth who received revelation for his people. She quizzically said, "Oh really?" And then without hesitating she asked, "What has he told you?" I was caught off guard. But I vowed right then that I would learn what our prophet has told us. This is how I would answer her today.

He has told us to get out of debt.He has urged us to pay an honest tithing.He has encouraged us to seek education.He has pled with us to reach out in love and kindness to all people.He has asked us to be honest in all our dealings.

One October day our daughter Júlia, who is often restless during family home evening, said, “We have never had a family home evening in the dark. Can we, please?” We wondered how and what we could teach her in the dark.
We turned off the lights, and complete darkness enveloped us. Then my husband opened his cell phone and began teaching about the Light of Christ. He demonstrated how the Light of Christ can bring us out of the darkness and lead us as a family back to Him. The light from the phone was not very bright, but it was enough to enable us to see.
As the phone periodically turned off the light automatically, we were able to show our daughter what our lives would be like without the Savior, Jesus Christ. The Spirit was very strong, and our daughter became completely reverent. Even now she remembers our favorite family home evening and the message that was taught.
Valquíria Lima dos Santos, Brazil

In 2014, while serving a full-time mission, our family experienced an unexpected turn of events. When riding down a steep hill on a longboard, our youngest son fell and sustained a life-threatening injury to his brain. As his situation deteriorated, medical personnel rushed him into emergency surgery.

Our family knelt on the floor of an otherwise empty hospital room, and we poured our hearts out to God. In the midst of this confusing and painful moment, we were filled with our Heavenly Father’s love and peace.

We did not know what the future held or if we would see our son alive again. We did know very clearly that his life was in God’s hands and the results, from an eternal perspective, would work out for his and our good. Through the gift of the Spirit, we were fully prepared to accept any outcome.

It was not easy! The accident resulted in a two-month hospital stay while we were presiding over 400 full-time missionaries. Our son experienced a significant loss of memory. His recovery included long and difficult physical, speech, and occupational therapy sessions. Challenges remain, but over time we have witnessed a miracle.

My parents always felt that it was important for me to get an education. When I was a junior in high school, I wanted to buy a car. It was the prettiest car I’d ever seen, a white 1950 Oldsmobile convertible, and its price was four hundred dollars. I had just four hundred dollars in my bank account. This is going to work out great, I thought.

When I told my mom about my plan, she asked, “How will you get to college?” Then she said, “I believe that if you will save your money and go to college, you will be able to buy an even nicer car.” I thought and prayed about it and decided that she was right. I saved my money and went on to college. Then, when I had finished the “twenty-second grade” and had my bachelor’s, master’s, and doctoral degrees, I bought an old classic convertible. I still drive this car. It reminds me that if you are patient, follow good counsel, and follow the Spirit’s guidance to do what’s right, there will be all kinds of rewards.

Buying and acquiring things when you are young is unwise. Invest in yourself with education. And the kind of education we will need most through the eternities is spiritual.

Joseph F. Smith was called on a mission when he was fifteen years old. He served in the Hawaiian Islands for over three years.
After his mission, he was traveling through California with a small group of men while returning to the Salt Lake Valley.
One afternoon, a mob of drunken men on horses rode into their camp. They were swearing, shooting their guns, and yelling, “Kill the Mormons!”
The other men in the camp ran and hid in the bushes by the creek. Joseph F. was gathering firewood. Why should I run from those men? he thought.
The leader of the mob rode up to Joseph F. and aimed a gun at him. “It’s my duty to kill every Mormon. Are you a Mormon?” he yelled.
Joseph F. stood tall. He looked the mob leader in the eyes. “Yes, siree; dyed in the wool; true blue, through and through.”
The mob leader was surprised. “Well you are the … pleasantest man I ever met! Shake, young fellow. I am glad to see a man that stands up for his convictions.”
Then the mob rode off. Joseph F. and the other men were not harmed.

The fourth miracle was found in the power of prayer.
Ray wasn’t feeling well on the day Elder Gamble picked him up for his own endowment. His medication was making him dizzy and weak in the knees. They had to stop and rest several times between the hotel room and the car.
After a fervent prayer for Ray’s health and ability to proceed with his journey, Ray got out of the car and walked into the temple to receive his endowment. He had no further issues that day.

How powerfully this lesson was taught once in France when a family got into their car to go see the grandparents. While en route they saw the grandmother coming in another direction and pulled the car over to stop and get her attention. As soon as the car stopped, a small boy jumped out of the backseat and began to run across the busy highway to see his grandmother. The father, seeing his son in danger, just yelled, “Stop,” as the boy reached the center of the road. There was no time to give instructions or reasons, just direction. The boy, hearing his father’s voice, stopped and froze there until rescued. How profound it really is to be like a child and be obedient!

So when Steve Sargent failed to receive an athletic scholarship, his life came apart, right? Wrong. He had another dream beyond that of athletic stardom. He wanted to serve the Lord on a mission. He had already completed four years of seminary. He had read the scriptures, maintained his personal worthiness, and tried to save some money. Now he was ready to fine tune himself before the big event.

Attending BYU on an academic scholarship, he took a missionary preparation class. His parents recall, “When he wrote home from the Y he would say, ‘I can hardly wait to get out. I wish I were in the mission field!’ That was six months ahead of time. When they extended missionary service from 18 months to two years, we thought he might be a little disappointed, but he just said, ‘Boy that’s great!’ There was also a lot of hard personal prayer. And a lot of discussion with his roommates and others who were preparing for missions.”

Finally, his papers came. He went shopping, visited the doctor and dentist, spoke at a marvelous farewell, hugged his hugs, and said his goodbyes.
The MTC was wonderful, all except for getting up at 6:30, but Steve mastered that as he had mastered the spiral pass and the jump shot. Then came the mission field and the realization that missionary work is tough. As tough as football or basketball.
“I’d say it’s harder,” Elder Sargent insists. “Maybe not physically, although physically it wears you down sometimes too. But mentally it’s a lot tougher. You need to put out more effort to be a good missionary than to be a good quarterback.
“Everybody says in their homecoming talk how great it was, so I always expected to spend 24 hours a day on a spiritual high. I soon found out that it isn’t like that. There’s a lot of hard work involved, but when you see the results it’s worth it.”
And then, there was always the language barrier. “The first two weeks I thought they were speaking Chinese.” But his ear soon adjusted, and his tongue got used to its new assignment. “I feel that the Lord’s really helped me a lot in picking up the language.”
The initial hard times brought Steve closer to his family. His dad says, “You suffer with him when he’s down, and you just want to be there and put your arms around him and say, ‘It’s okay.’ We’ve drawn closer to Steve through the hard times than through the good. We know that he has to go through the refiner’s fire in order to learn. We want him to learn to struggle and sacrifice, but at the same time, we pray that the Lord is gentle with him so that it’s a positive struggle after all is said and done, so that he progresses in his testimony and understanding of people and love and commitment to them.”
Brother Sargent’s prayers have been answered. Steve found that every sacrifice was more than matched by a blessing. If the mission field was harder than he expected, it was more rewarding too. The letters he writes home make glad reading for his parents. “I’m really feeling a lot more love for my Father in Heaven and for Jesus Christ. I set a goal to focus my thoughts on Christ when I’m down and thinking about other things. I know that I will grow to love him even more as my mission goes on. When I think about it, I just get warm all over and feel great. There are still plenty of rough times, but I know whom I can always rely on.”
But after all is said and done, there still aren’t any newspaper clippings. Isn’t missionary work a little boring after athletic stardom? “Missionary work is awesome! The rewards are far greater than the rewards of athletics. A touchdown is thrilling, but it doesn’t compare to a baptism.”
There has been personal growth too. Some of it Steve probably can’t even see because he’s too close to himself. Some of it he can. “I can see life a lot clearer. I know why we’re here. I can see the plan that our Father in Heaven has given us in order to be able to live with him again and become like him. It’s neat to finally see that plan come into focus and really understand what he has done for us.
“I’m a much different person than I was just a few months ago. If I hadn’t come on a mission I’d still be thinking sports were the most important thing in life. I might have learned this in time anyway, but it comes a lot faster on a mission.”
Of course Steve still loves sports too. “I’m sure they’ll have athletics in the next life,” he says.
Steve’s love has grown along with his understanding. He wrote home: “This last week I actually started to enjoy my mission. It happened after I got the tape from home. And I’d been praying quite a bit. I really realized how much my family means to me. I’m just overjoyed to be alive. Our family is so special, and I love you all so much. I realize that the love I feel for you is the thing I need to share with these people.”
As an athlete, Steve prepared carefully for each game, and afterward he would evaluate his preparation so he could do better next time. How does he evaluate his mission preparation? “I think we should prepare when we’re younger. I thought I was pretty well prepared, but our preparation can never be equal to the importance of the task. I wish I had saved more money too, because I feel that I could have placed less of a burden on my parents. I especially wish I’d studied the scriptures more. They are so great.”
Steve has expressed the bottom line on mission preparation. It’s impossible to prepare as well as the calling deserves. Still, mission president Eduardo Ayala is pretty pleased with Elder Sargent just as he is. “He’s one of the most impressive missionaries I’ve ever seen. He is always enthusiastic. He is an excellent companion. He works very hard. Nothing discourages him. And furthermore he lives the law of consecration in every sense. It’s a pleasure to work with him.”
Nice words, but don’t look for them in the newspaper. Don’t look for any of Steve’s hard, wonderful mission in the newspaper. Look for it in the smiling faces of those to whom he brings the gospel. Look for it in the person he becomes. Look for it in all the good he does throughout his whole life and beyond. Look for it when the sports clippings have all turned to dust, and you will find it. Because it will be written in the hearts of people, and people last forever.

It was February 12 and much too cold to play outside. It was so cold that Tommy had gone past wishing for snow to wondering if it would ever come.
Tommy’s teacher, Miss Peters, had declared Friday afternoon craft time. Soon the students’ desks were covered with red, pink, and white construction paper and white paste. Most were working on valentines for their moms, dads, grandparents, and friends. Some were even making cards for their brothers and sisters.
Tommy wasn’t making a valentine for his mother. And he didn’t have any brothers or sisters. His best friend, Mike, probably wouldn’t get too choked up about receiving a valentine from him. But Tommy’s valentine was very, very special, and he was taking great care in making it.
First, he painstakingly cut out a large red heart. He frowned because it was a little uneven, then decided that was OK since it was so big. He chewed on his bottom lip as he struggled to get some crinkly paper on just right. It went all around the edges of the big valentine. When he was finished, he was proud to see that his valentine looked just right.
Just then, Jimmy walked past Tommy’s desk, looked at the valentine, and shouted, “Hey! It’s a mushy valentine! Tommy’s making a mushy valentine!”
Most of the class turned and craned their necks to get a peek at Tommy’s valentine. He wished a hole would open up and swallow him and his card. Then he wished one would open up and swallow Jimmy.
Jimmy leaned over the valentine, as if trying to see it better. “Is it for a girl friend?” He asked in a syrupy-sweet voice. There were giggles from the girls and outright laughs from the guys.
“No,” Tommy almost shouted, “it isn’t. Leave me alone, Jimmy.”
But Jimmy was having fun. “Ah, come on—who is it for?”
“Jimmy, stop that teasing right now and return to your desk.” Miss Peters scolded. A hush fell over the room as she came down the aisle. “I believe you should be working at your own desk.”
Unabashed, Jimmy sat down at his desk with a smirk on his face.
Miss Peters turned to Tommy, and said, “That really is a lovely valentine, Tommy. Is it for your mother?”
Tommy almost lied and said yes, but he knew that that would be wrong. “No, ma’am.”
“Oh. Well, I bet it’s for someone very special,”
Tommy nodded, then quickly looked down when someone made kissing noises.
“Class!” Miss Peters said sharply. There was silence. “Well, Tommy, I’m sure whoever it’s for will love it.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled.
She looked sharply at the rest of the class. “Do we want to work on valentines or math?” Twenty-six heads quickly bent back over pink and red construction paper.
Tommy didn’t feel like working on his special valentine anymore. He cleaned up the scraps of construction paper that had fallen from his desk, put his glue and scissors on the tray inside his desk, and stared for a moment at his valentine. Then he quickly hid it in his backpack. It was a silly old lopsided heart, anyway.
When the bell rang, he went miserably and silently to get his coat, trying to ignore the kissing sounds and giggles that came his way.
His feet felt like lead as he started toward the care center. What does Jimmy know, anyway? he asked himself. All the kids are just mean. Tommy kicked a rock. He paused at the intersection of Brook and Eastside. He wanted to go home, but his mother and Mrs. Elderberry were expecting him.
He paused when he got to the care center and thought again of the valentine he had made. Oh well, Mrs. Elderberry won’t be expecting a valentine, anyway. Racing up the steps, he dashed through the front door.
After he checked in with his mother, who was working the late shift, he waved hello to Mrs. Smith and shadowboxed with Mr. Barnes. Tommy had a lot of friends there. When his mother had to work late, he came and ate supper with her, then spent the rest of the evening listening to stories told by Mrs. Thompson and old Frank, or playing checkers with Mr. Barnes. He usually got a lot of help with his homework, too.
Yes, he had a lot of friends here, but Mrs. Elderberry was very, very special. Tommy knocked on her door.
The gray-haired lady’s face lit up when she saw him. “Come in, Thomas, come in.” She motioned toward a blue chair near the curtained window. “Please sit down.”
He waited until she had sat down—Mrs. Elderberry was big on politeness—then, after dropping his backpack on the floor, happily snuggled into the comfortable velvet chair that had come from her home. “It’s going to snow tonight,” he announced.
She looked out the window and up at the heavy, grayish-white clouds that hung overhead. “Why, I believe you are right.” She smiled. “How was school today, Thomas?”
“Fine,” he answered with a shrug. Immediately he felt all tied up inside. Mrs. Elderberry was the one he told everything to. She was the one who knew all his secrets, even the one about when he had accidently let his pet snake loose in the apartment and managed to find it only seconds before his mother had walked in the door.
Mrs. Elderberry was also the one he could talk to about his father dying and how sad it still made him feel. He couldn’t talk to his mother about it because she always started crying, and that just made him feel worse. So he talked to Mrs. Elderberry, who listened and never ever told him that he was too big to cry. But he couldn’t tell Mrs. Elderberry about the teasing that had led to a crumpled valentine.
They drank cocoa, played checkers, and talked about the possibility of snow. The room was warm and the cocoa was hot and Tommy was happy. He told Mrs. Elderberry about the football game his uncle had taken him to, and she told him a funny story about old Mrs. Lipton losing her teeth again. He was glad that she had heard from her daughter, but upset along with her because it had been three weeks since she had heard from her son. Before Tommy knew it, two hours had passed and the dinner gong was sounding.
“After you finish your homework, come back, and we’ll watch TV,” she told him as he picked up his backpack.
“Sure.” Tommy hurried out into the hallway. His stomach was suddenly telling him just how hungry he was.
Outside Mrs. Elderberry’s room, he paused. The valentine was giving him a guilty conscience. He pulled it out of his backpack and stared thoughtfully at it. Slowly he walked back to her door and slipped the valentine underneath it.
He was her friend and she was his friend, and that was all that mattered.

One morning at work the factory bosses told all employees that in addition to our hourly wage, we would begin receiving piecework incentive pay. The more we produced, the more we would earn. This happened four months before I left on my mission, so now I could make more money to help pay for it.
Production went up significantly, and so did our pay. I worked on a three-man rubber-curing press, and every time I saw a mold come out of the incubator and trip the automatic counter, I imagined my bank account balance increasing.
The new pay incentive, however, created an incentive to cheat. A co-worker would often sneak beside the automatic counter, give its trip lever a few extra yanks, and return to his workstation. I grinned when I saw this happen, shook my head, and continued my work. I felt that as long as I wasn’t messing with the counter myself, then my integrity was still intact.
But before long I realized that because I got paid the same amount as the other men on my team, then it didn’t really matter who pulled on the counter. I was just as guilty of stealing from the company as the others were. Was I going to fund my mission with stolen money?
I agonized over what to do. The extra money in our paychecks wasn’t much. A lot of people would say it wasn’t worth troubling over, but I was troubled. I knew I had to confront my co-workers.
“Are you kidding me?” asked Bob (names have been changed), the senior team member. “Everybody cheats. Even the management. They expect it.”
He saw no need to change. What else could I do? Even without inflating our production numbers, our press was the most productive on our shift. I often heard workers on other presses say they wished they worked on our team.
“I could trade places with Jack at the other press,” I suggested to Bob.
“I think you’re being stupid,” he told me, “but I can work with Jack.”
After Jack and I switched teams, Bob often reminded me how much more money he was making than I was. Lyrics from “How Firm a Foundation” came to mind: “Fear not, I am with thee; oh, be not dismayed.” Those words helped me shrug off Bob’s taunts.
Not long afterward, Bob approached me. He said Jack was not working out, and my team wanted me back. I was surprised. I told Bob that I would return but there couldn’t be any cheating. He agreed. My old team welcomed me back warmly, and the cheating stopped.
I expected to be tested before going on my mission, but I had no idea that my honesty and courage would be tried. I am grateful that when I needed strength to do what was right, the Lord upheld me with His “righteous, omnipotent hand.”1

The young men and women also spoke of activities they enjoy together—excursions to a nearby river, theater productions, costume parties, outings on the snowy slopes of the Sierra Nevadas, and jaunts over the mountains to sunny Mediterranean beaches. Sometimes they also visit the royal chapel of the cathedral where Ferdinand and Isabel lie in sumptuous tombs. Here also repose their daughter Juana the Crazy and her husband Felipe the Handsome. Theirs is one of the saddest and most bizarre tales in Spanish history. When Juana’s unfaithful husband died young, the grief-stricken queen became convinced that she was to be the recipient of a great miracle. If she had enough faith, her husband could be brought back to life. For three years she traveled around Spain with his coffin by her side, trying to find the holy spot where the miracle would happen. From time to time she would have the coffin opened to check Felipe’s progress, and every time the body was more hopelessly decomposed. Finally she allowed it to be buried, but hope was not yet dead in her. She shut herself up in a nearby monastery to await the wonderful event. She was later declared insane by her son Carlos V, who took the reigns of government from her and made her a permanent prisoner in the monastery. She died there many years later. Now Juana and Felipe and Ferdinand and Isabel all lie together in honored splendor under carven stone, enjoying the prerogatives of royalty to whatever extent the dead can enjoy them, while time rots their banners and tarnishes their splendid armor.

For about a year I played the role of the mother of the house. I loved my family, and I wanted to take care of them, but I sometimes wondered, “Why do I have to stay home and watch the little kids, fix supper, and do the laundry?” I was only in junior high school. In those moments when I would start to cry, I’d see my father. He tried so hard to make our home happy. All day he would work hard and then come home and listen to our problems and our complaints and smile and say he loved us. I never once heard him complain or break down in front of us. He knew the whole family depended on him. If he broke down, the family would also. But if he were strong, the family would follow.
I remember those days and all the pain and testing we went through. Looking at pictures that were taken then, I can still see the pain when I look into the eyes of those in the photographs.

Her life-long dream had turned into what now seemed like a nightmare. During the long, hot summer days of picking potatoes and cucumbers, Alice had envisioned herself walking across the campus as a student at BYU. It was the goal that had kept her going when she would otherwise have given up.
Her determination had brought her to BYU for fall semester. And now the frustration, the pressure, the anguish that she faced seemed more like a nightmare than a reward for such effort.
She hadn’t planned it this way. In fact, after arriving she had hardly planned at all.
Alice was one of the students in my class. Somehow she hadn’t realized the big difference between going to school and learning.
Alice found the social side of college life more enticing than studying and learning. The urgency of preparing for her final exams hit her only after the opportunity for preparation had almost passed. It all seemed like a nightmare now. She must not fail, but she was unprepared. She had not committed herself to an education; she was just going to school.
She remembered people often asking her back home, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Growing up had seemed so far away until this day. Now she was searching for the answer to that question, not for them but for herself. What did she want to do with her life and how did an education fit in?
We must all face that question eventually if we are to be responsible for our lives.
When you find the answer, you’ll have a sense of what you want to learn or what kind of job you may someday have or how you can become a better mother and wife, because of your education. You’ll catch a glimpse of a bigger picture—a purpose, a destination, a course of action for this life that determines what you can become through the eternities. It’s when you catch even a glimpse of the excitement, the benefits, the opportunities, the richness of life that an education can provide, that the discipline required to study becomes a small price to pay.
With your eye toward eternity, education is the treasure you will take with you and give you so much the advantage in the world to come (see D&C 130:18–19). And for today, it opens doors to opportunities that would otherwise be closed tight. Nephi writes, “To be learned is good if they hearken unto the counsels of God” (2 Ne. 9:29). If we lack wisdom we are to ask, and when we seek diligently we will know the truth. And the truth shall make us free (see John 8:32)—free to make wise choices; free to experience life with ever-changing, wonderful, new horizons; free to speak up and speak out for what’s right; free to influence those who are seeking truth; free to prepare in the time of youth for a rich and rewarding lifetime; free to hold on to the love of learning your whole life long making every day more zestful.

I have a good friend whose car was vandalized just a few days before Christmas. Among other things, the thieves took her attaché, which contained everything from her cell phone and PalmPilot to a personal journal, some other sensitive papers, and her passport. By nearly miraculous circumstances, a few days later her briefcase was recovered. Everything that was valuable by the world’s standards—the money, the credit cards, and anything else that could be hocked—was gone. But to her delight and relief, all of her personal papers and passport had been undisturbed. Though it was inconvenient and costly, she was able to replace everything the thieves took. Ironically, those things that were of greatest value to her—things that money could not buy—were returned.

After my call to the Relief Society general presidency, I felt a desire to know more about the women who had served before me. I was impressed by the teachings of Sister Zina D. Young, first counselor in the second Relief Society general presidency. She said, “Sisters, it is for us to be wide awake to our duties.”1 I pondered on the words awake and duty and did some additional searching in the scriptures.
In the New Testament, Paul taught the Saints of his day:
“It is high time to awake out of sleep: for now is our salvation nearer. …
“The night is far spent, the day is at hand: … let us put on the armour of light.”2
In the Book of Mormon, Alma taught his people the sacred duties of those who enter into a covenant with God:
“And now, as ye are desirous to come into the fold of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light;
“Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places. …
“Now I say unto you, if this be the desire of your hearts, what have ye against being baptized in the name of the Lord, as a witness before him that ye have entered into a covenant with him, that ye will serve him and keep his commandments, that he may pour out his Spirit more abundantly upon you?
“And now when the people had heard these words, they clapped their hands for joy, and exclaimed: This is the desire of our hearts.”3
Sister Young’s statement and these scriptures caused me to consider the “duties” we must awaken to in our day.
When we are baptized, we enter into a covenant. Elder Robert D. Hales taught, “When we make and keep covenants, we are coming out of the world and into the kingdom of God.”4
We are changed. We look different, and we act different. The things we listen to and read and say are different, and what we wear is different because we become daughters of God bound to Him by covenant.
When we are confirmed, we receive the gift of the Holy Ghost, the right to have the constant influence of a member of the Godhead to guide us, to comfort us, and to protect us. He warns us when we are tempted to walk away from our covenants and back into the world. President Boyd K. Packer teaches that none of us “will ever make a serious mistake without first being warned by the promptings of the Holy Ghost.”5
To receive this gift and always have the Spirit with us, we must be worthy and vigilant about checking the condition of our hearts. Is our heart soft? Do we have a humble heart, a teachable heart, a gentle heart? Or have our hearts become gradually hardened as we have allowed too much of the noise of the world to distract us from the gentle promptings that have surely come from the Spirit?
When we were baptized, our hearts were changed and awakened to God. While on our mortal journey, we need to regularly ask ourselves, “If [I] have experienced a change of heart, … can [I] feel so now?”6 And if not, then why not?
Many of the early Saints “experienced this mighty change in [their] hearts.”7 It awakened them to receive temple blessings that strengthened them in their duties. Early Saints in Nauvoo went “to the temple all day and long into the night”8 to receive ordinances and make covenants before they began their journey westward.
Sarah Rich, a Relief Society sister in Nauvoo, said this: “Many were the blessings we had received in the house of the Lord, which has caused us joy and comfort in the midst of all our sorrows and enabled us to have faith in God, knowing He would guide us and sustain us in the unknown journey that lay before us.”9
With hearts changed through faith in the Savior, they relied on the power of His Atonement. They were awakened to act. They knew deep in their hearts that there was one—the Savior—who understood their personal adversity because He suffered it for them in the Garden of Gethsemane and on the cross. He felt their fear, their doubt, their pain, and their loneliness. He suffered their sorrows, their persecution, their hunger, their fatigue, and their loss. And because He suffered all these things, He could say to them, “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”10
And they came. They trusted in and followed the prophet. They knew the journey would be long, their duty difficult. They knew that sacrifice would be required, but sustained by their faith and cleaving to their covenants, they were spiritually prepared.
Before leaving Nauvoo, a group of Saints wrote a message in the assembly hall in the temple they were forced to abandon. It read, “The Lord has beheld our sacrifice: come after us.”11
Recently I participated in a pioneer trek with young men and young women in our ward. Each morning I asked myself, “What is my sacrifice? How do I come after them?”
On the second day of the trek we had pulled our handcarts eight miles (13 km) when we came to a place on the trail called “the women’s pull.” Men and women were separated, and the men were sent ahead up a hill. As we started to pull our handcarts, I looked up to see our priesthood brethren, young and old, lining both sides of the trail, hats off in respect for the women.
The path was easy at first, but soon we were in deep sand, and the hill grew steep. I had my head down and was pushing with all my might when I felt a tug on the cart and looked up to see Lexi, one of our young women and my neighbor. She had pulled her handcart to the top and, seeing our need for help, ran back. When we reached the top, I wanted so much to run back to help those following me, but I was breathing heavily and my heart was pounding so hard, the words heart attack entered my mind more than once! I watched with gratitude as other young women dropped their handcarts and ran to help.
When everyone reached the top, we took some time to record feelings in our journals. I wrote: “I didn’t prepare well enough physically so didn’t have the strength to help those following me. I may never need to pull a handcart again, but I never want to let my sisters down spiritually, never!”
It was a sacred experience that awakened me spiritually to my duties to my family and others. Throughout our journey I reflected on what I had learned.
First I thought about my sisters, those who had pulled and those who continue today to pull their handcarts alone. Nearly 20 percent of the women in those early handcart companies were alone for at least part of the way. These were women who had not married, were divorced, or were widowed. Many were single mothers.12 They all pulled together—covenant daughters, young and old, in different life circumstances, on the same path, with the same goal.
Those who ran to help their sisters in need reminded me of rescuers, both seen and unseen, who are quick to observe, see a need, and act.
I thought of the Lord’s words: “I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up.”13
Lining both sides of the trail were faithful, obedient, covenant-keeping men. Their priesthood power—the power God uses to bless all His children—lifted, strengthened, and supported us. They were a reminder that we are never alone. We can have this power with us always as we keep our covenants.
I thought of the men who were separated on the journey from families, leaving them to pull the handcart alone. Many men died on the journey. Some sons stayed behind to serve missions in their native lands. Others had emigrated earlier to prepare for their families’ arrival in the Salt Lake Valley. Some men were absent by choice, having chosen not to keep their covenants.
Like those who went before, many today live in circumstances that are not ideal. We continue to teach and strive for the ideal because we know that continually striving will keep us progressing along the path and prepare us for opportunities to receive all promised blessings as we “wait upon the Lord.”14
Each of us has had and will continue to have adversity in our lives. This mortal life is a time of testing, and we will continue to have opportunities to use our agency to choose what we will learn from the adversity that will surely come.
As daughters of God, we continue on the path in faith because we recognize, as President Thomas S. Monson taught, “The saving ordinances received in the temple that permit us to someday return to our Heavenly Father in an eternal family relationship and to be endowed with blessings and power from on high are worth every sacrifice and every effort.”15
It isn’t enough to just be on the journey; we must be awake to our duty and continue with faith as we draw upon the comforting, strengthening, enabling, and healing power of the Atonement.
Sisters, I love you. I don’t know many of you personally, but I do know who you are! We are covenant-keeping daughters in His kingdom, and endowed with power through our covenants, we are prepared to do our duty.
Relief Society prepares women for the blessings of eternal life by awakening us spiritually to increase in faith and personal righteousness. Let us begin with ourselves. Let us begin where we are. Let us begin today. When we are spiritually awake, we will be better able to strengthen families and homes and help others.
This is a work of salvation, and the strengthening and enabling power of the Atonement makes it possible. Awaken to who we are. Awaken to our duty. We are daughters of our Heavenly Father, who loves us. Of this I testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

When I was in the Young Women program, I was one of only two Laurels surrounded by Beehives. Because the other Laurel had athletic engagements each week, I found myself, a lone Laurel, suffocated by so many younger, seemingly immature girls. Our Young Women program was struggling: hurt feelings, drama, and offense were common. For a while no one in our ward wanted to attend meetings.
Then I was called to serve the younger girls at girls’ camp. It was a daunting call. I felt intimidated, annoyed, and nervous. But I went.
I have never experienced a more miraculous change of heart. In less than a week, I gained a testimony of the divine potential within each and every child of God. The Savior allowed me to share His love for my sisters in the gospel. His eyes illuminated my sight, and I really saw each girl as a beloved daughter of our Heavenly Father. Through serving the girls, the Lord opened my heart, and they became not just the girls in my ward but my girls.
By the end of the week I had the ability to recognize divine qualities in every girl, and my heart felt like it would burst because of the love I felt for them. Although this change of heart was unexpected, it taught me that charity comes through meaningful service, and it truly is the pure love of Christ.

Dean has had encouragement along the way. “You know, I had a favorite teacher in high school who was also my bishop. He said to me, ‘Listen, Dean. Now is the time for you to paint. I know you’d like to go out and play basketball or baseball and you’d like to be with the rest of your friends; but I’ll promise you that if you will do the art that you feel strongly about now, someday you’ll be able to play while your friends work.’ And you know, this has really come true. Now when I want to go somewhere I go—Alaska, New York, or down south. I’ll never have to worry about a job, I guess. My paintings are selling and I can say in them what I have to say. This is my form of communication. This is me, and if people like my art, they like me. I guess I have the best life in this world, because my fun is my work and my work is fun.”