Gospel Story Finder

Robert, an investigator in Canada, has attended a variety of LDS meetings and activities. He has researched various religions but continues studying the Church because of the inspiration he has found in its doctrine and the Book of Mormon. He attends institute to learn more and finds the social environment “refreshingly wholesome, friendly, with a really good vibe,” he says. “Mormons are the nicest people in the world.”

A self-described introvert, Robert wants to interact but says, “I tend to hug the walls, unsure of how to be part of the groups, some of them long-term LDS friends who don’t seem to need anyone else.” But it doesn’t take much to ease this sense of isolation. During an activity, he recalls, “someone came up to me after dinner and encouraged me to stay for the movie; otherwise, I would have left, but instead I had a great time. I just needed to know that someone wanted me there.”

Like Melissa, he appreciates LDS friends who explain doctrine but don’t get too specific about how to live it. Friends who listen more than they admonish are like “someone who walks beside you, as opposed to pushing from behind to make you go faster. Most of the time, you just trip and stumble.”

Robert has struggled to give up smoking. His discomfort illustrates how those who are new are deeply aware of their differences. “Not one member has ever said anything to me about smelling like smoke,” he says. “Yet if my clothes aren’t fresh out of the laundry, I will stay home from institute or church.”

I began meeting with my bishop regularly in working through the repentance process and Church discipline. He recommended I attend meetings of the addiction recovery program, offered through LDS Family Services. I had never heard of the program. I learned that the group held free, confidential meetings based on the 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous, adapted into a framework of the doctrines and principles of the Church.
I admit that during the first few meetings, I thought, “I don’t need to be here. I don’t really have a problem with pornography. I can quit any time.” That, of course, wasn’t true.
With my bishop’s encouragement, I continued to attend. My pride began to melt away, and I began to work the steps of the program: honesty, hope, trust in God, truth, confession, change of heart, humility, seeking forgiveness, restitution and reconciliation, daily accountability, personal revelation, and service. For the first time in a long time, I was living a “sober” life, a life free of pornography. Recovery isn’t ever really “over,” but I had been introduced to a new level of freedom. It came because as I participated in the 12 steps, I came to understand what was behind my addiction.
Knowing what triggered my addiction was one thing. Avoiding environments that aided my addiction was another. This stance requires being vigilant 24 hours a day, seven days a week for the rest of my life. I cannot get online “just to browse.” In fact, if I am by myself, I don’t go online at all. I can’t look at an ad and entertain thoughts in my mind. We don’t have cable TV in our home. When I commute to work, I avoid taking certain roads because I know there are billboards along those roads that could trigger inappropriate thoughts. If I start to slip and my mind begins to wander, I turn to my wife, to my bishop, and to prayer for strength.
My addiction affects the most minute parts of my life, but taking these precautions is worth it. I cannot neglect these defenses because I know what my addiction can do to me and to those I love.
It’s not just a matter of avoiding the bad, though. I also must make constant, conscious efforts to turn to the good. Several of the 12 steps have helped me do this by bringing me closer to God.
Every day when I wake up, I get on my knees and thank Heavenly Father for giving me the opportunity to repent of my sins and to come to Him through the Atonement of His Son, Jesus Christ. I ask Him to let me know His will so that I can do it. I ask Him to lead me away from temptation. I pray as though I rely on Heavenly Father every minute of the day—because I do—and I keep that prayer in my heart throughout the day. I pray again each night. I also spend some time in the scriptures daily so that I can focus my thoughts on virtuous things. If I don’t make these a habit, I don’t have the Spirit in my life. And left on my own, I am not strong enough to resist temptation.
For a long time I believed I could overcome my behavior anytime I wanted to by my own willpower. But I failed miserably. After a while I got tired of doing it on my own, especially when “on my own” wasn’t working. I realized that I could not do what I needed to do without the Lord’s help. Ether 12:27 helped me understand this better. The Lord told Moroni, “My grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”
Once I went to Him, still doing all I could do (see 2 Nephi 25:23), I realized that I could do much better and become much more with His help than I ever could dream of by relying on my own merits (see Alma 7:14).
My wife and I now serve as facilitators at the addiction recovery program meetings. She has learned—and is helping others understand—that the Atonement is for not only those who are working to overcome an addiction but also those who have been affected by the addiction through no choice of their own. If we turn to the Savior, His grace can work in all of our lives.

When our family was living in France and our children were young, we made it a practice to invite friends and neighbors—most of them not of our faith—to attend their baptisms. We hoped these occasions would help them become more familiar with our Church.

At the end of one of these services, a friend approached me and shared her impressions. “What touched me the most,” she said, “was the young woman in your family who offered the opening prayer. She spoke to God so naturally—as if she knew Him. All my life, I have prayed through proxies, but I never felt comfortable enough to talk to God directly. He felt distant—even frightening at times. Oh, how I wish I could pray like this young woman!”

How grateful we are to know that God knows us personally, that He loves us, and that we can speak with Him directly. He is not distant. He is aware of us, and He cares—even about the smallest details of our lives.

Some years ago in the Church News section there appeared a most interesting article about a young man who made his decision to trust in the ways of the Lord. The article reads:

“President Spencer W. Kimball is a constant inspiration to the Church. This is not only so through what he says, but likewise by what he does. When addressing the Stockholm Area Conference he revealed the secret of this success. Said he:

“‘As I was out alone, milking the cows, or putting up the hay, I had time to think. I mulled it over in my mind and made this decision: “I, Spencer Kimball, will never taste any form of liquor. I, Spencer Kimball, will never touch tobacco. I will never drink coffee, nor will I ever touch tea—not because I can explain why I shouldn’t, except that the Lord said not to.” He said those things were an abomination. There are many other things that are, too, that are not in the Word of Wisdom. But I made up my mind.

“‘That’s the point I am trying to make. I made up my mind then, as a little boy; “I will never touch those things.” And so, having made up my mind, it was easy to follow it, and I did not yield. There were many temptations that came along, but I did not even analyze it; I did not stop and measure it and say, “Well, shall I or shall I not?” I always said to myself: “But I made up my mind I would not. Therefore, I do not.”

President Kimball continues, “‘I want to just say that I will soon go into another year and that I have never tasted tea, nor coffee, nor tobacco, nor liquor of any kind, nor drugs. Now that may sound very presumptuous and boasting to you, but I am only trying to make this point: that if every boy and girl—as he or she begins to grow a little more mature and becomes a little more independent of his friends and his family and all—if every boy and girl would make up his or her mind, “I will not yield,” then no matter what the temptation is: “I made up my mind. That’s settled.”’” (Church News, 4 Oct. 1975; see also Conference Report, Denmark, Finland, Norway, and Sweden Area Conference, Aug. 1974, pp. 86–87.)

Lily is also able to complete many Personal Progress experiences and projects without adapting them. For example, one of the value experiences for Good Works is to spend three hours serving outside of your family. For this project, Lily and her mom cleaned up a neighbor’s yard. After completing the project, Lily felt stronger. She says, “It was hard work and I was happy when it was over, but I am glad that I did it!”

“I was born in China,” Angel explains. “There was a one-child policy at the time, and girls were not always wanted. When I was born, the doctors said I would have health problems. They recommended that my life be terminated.” Angel’s parents were repulsed by such a suggestion and rushed their firstborn child to the safety of their home. The doctor’s ominous prediction proved false. Angel grew up strong and healthy. When she was six, her family emigrated to Canada. Today, Angel has one younger brother and three younger sisters.
Angel’s family has supported her since before she was born.

Brother Snederfler recalls another unforgettable moment: On 20 May 1991, the phone rang. The caller was President Thomas S. Monson, then Second Counselor in the First Presidency. “He said: ‘Jirí, you have been called as the president of the Freiberg temple. You will begin this office on 1 September of this year. What do you say?’ At first I was not able to say anything at all because of my astonishment. President Monson inquired, ‘Are you there, Jirí?’ I told President Monson, ‘I accept humbly this calling.’”

In the temple, the Snederflers opened prison doors to generations of deceased persons who had never had an opportunity to hear the gospel. And they also opened temple doors to patrons who—having had no religious freedom—had languished in spiritual darkness on earth. They welcomed members of the Church from such former Communist nations as Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, Croatia, Poland, Hungary, the Czech and Slovak Republics, and the DDR.

“It is so, so good to be in the temple,” Sister Snederfl er says simply. After four years of faithful service there, the Snederflers have returned home to Prague to continue family history research so that more of their own ancestors may enjoy temple blessings.

Brothers and Sisters, I testify that God loves you and knows you personally. Let me share an experience that helped me understand this truth. In the 1980s, my full-time starting salary was only $18,000 a year, so I was living from paycheck to paycheck with no savings in the bank. Does that sound familiar? When the appliances in the home started breaking down, first the refrigerator, then the stove, in order to provide food for my children, I had to use all the money I had to pay for new ones. A few weeks later, when tithing settlement time came around, I had to make an important decision.

Would I get caught up with the house payment, would I buy food and Christmas gifts, or would I use my paycheck to catch up on my tithing? Being a full tithe payer is important to me, not only to show obedience but, even more importantly, to show the love I have for our Heavenly Father and his Son, Jesus Christ. With faith, I chose to use my whole paycheck to pay my tithing and trusted in the Lord that all would be well. I told no one of our trials, but somehow, we had enough food on our table, and when we went to Church the Sunday before Christmas, as we left the chapel, there was a bag of presents left on our car. As we arrived home, there were more gifts left on our porch. I was grateful for earthly angels who listened with their hearts to the promptings of the Spirit to bless our little family. It is one of the most memorable Christmases we ever had.

The story doesn?t end there. though. The day before Christmas, I got a call from my Aunt Peggy, who lived 5,000 miles away in Maryland. Yes, the same persistent loving aunty who was part of our conversion story. When I answered the phone on that December night, she asked me right away, “How are you doing?” Years had passed since I last saw and spoke with her. I was too embarrassed to share my financial struggles, so I mustered up all the courage I had and replied, “Oh, we?re fine.” Then she explained that she had a dream, and in her dream, I was crying. As soon as she said that, uncontrollable tears began to flow, and I started to explain our problems.

She compassionately responded that she would put a check in the mail the very next day for $1,000 to help. For me, that was an incredible amount of money. After thanking her profusely and hanging up the phone, I couldn?t sleep. The Spirit kept stirring in my heart as I contemplated the miracle that just happened. The Lord had answered my prayer through a loving, inspired aunty, definitely one of my earthly angels. I picked up the scriptures and felt prompted to read in Matthew. I started with chapter 1 and kept reading until I got to Matthew 6, the beautiful sermon on the mount. As I read, it was as though the Savior himself was speaking to me.

The Holy Ghost recently helped Camila make an important decision about her standards. “I wanted to dance in a presentation,” she says, “but the costumes all the girls were wearing were short skirts. I talked with my mother, and she said to pray about it and choose the right. I thought a lot about it and talked with my dance teacher. She said I could wear a longer skirt, and my grandmother made me one. As I danced I felt happy, and I felt the Holy Ghost with me. I was the only girl wearing a longer skirt, but nobody made fun of me. Some of my friends said they were learning from me.”

It was hot—too hot to do anything but think about how to get cool. The grass-hoppers were popping from spot to spot like sprinkles on a hot griddle, and the grass along the roadside was singed brittle and brown.
Papa liked the hot weather. He said it was good for the crops.
“I think I’ll just walk down to the field and listen to the corn grow,” he announced after breakfast. “Anyone want to come along?”
“Not me,” I said. “It’s too hot.”
“Me neither,” Ed agreed.
“What are you going to do, hon?” he asked Mama.
“As long as it’s miserable anyway, I figure I might as well do a hot job and get it over with,” she said. “I’m going to make apple butter from the windfalls the kids picked up last night. I’ll save my resting time for a day when I can enjoy it.”
“Do you ever have any resting time?” Papa wanted to know.
“Not much,” she answered. “‘A man works from sun to sun, but women’s work is never done.’”
Then turning to me, she said, “Dora, if you’ll just wash the bottles for me, you can go play when you’re through.”
Washing the bottles was a nice sloshy job in the sudsy water and usually good to cool me off, but today the effort left me sticky and uncomfortable. I sat down under a tree and leaned against the rough bark. How I longed for a nice drink of cool water. The drinking water in the barrel got warm so fast in hot weather that it was no use to try to keep it cool. I looked up idly at our water tank. The water was always cool after the windmill pumped it from deep in the ground. If I climb up the ladder with a cup, I mused, I could have my drink. But I didn’t want to move. I just wanted to lie in the shade of the tank with a little trickle of cool water running into my mouth. If I had a long, thin tube, I thought, I could siphon it out and do just that. I could even let it drip over me and cool me off. But I’ve never seen a small one like I need. What can I makeone with? Straw? Not big enough, probably, and not long enough, either, unless I slide one length inside the other.
“I know,” I almost shouted. “Onion stems!” There were long, hollow ones in the garden holding up the fat white blooms, tapered just enough that the top of one would slide into the bottom of the next one. It would take a lot of stems to reach all the way to the top of the tank, but we had a big onion patch.
I forgot how hot I was and ran to make my long green pipe. Then I climbed with it to the top of the tank. I had separated it a few links short of the top and sucked up enough water to start the siphon action when I accidentally let the long piece fall to the ground. That meant another trip down the ladder to get it and one up to connect it again. By the time my refreshing onion-flavored drink was flowing, I was nearly melted with the heat. I lay under the tank and let the water drip over me and into my mouth. What luxury! A little breeze danced by and already I felt cooler. I didn’t want to move—ever—just lie there and guide the end of the hose around to cool me off.
I drizzled water over me until my hair had shrunk into corkscrew curls and my clothes were damp. I was cool as a cucumber. I guess I smelled a little like a pickle too. Whenever I’d had enough water for a while, I’d shut it off by tying a knot in the end of the onion stem. Soon this one section was wearing out and I needed to replace it.
“Dora … Dora!” Ed was calling me in his coaxing voice. That usually meant he wanted me to do something for him. I dropped my spigot and walked over to where he was.
“We’re going to go swimming. Do you want to go with us?”
“Nah, I don’t want to.” I started to walk away.
“How come you never want to swim?” he asked.
“I don’t like drowning. That’s why.”
“You’ve never drowned yet,” he reminded me.
“I don’t intend to either,” I told him. “Even if I did go swimming, it wouldn’t be a hundred miles up in the air where you can’t climb out on the ground.”
“Ah, come on, Dora,” he coaxed. “We need you for a lookout so we don’t get caught.”
“What’ll you give me?”
“A pretty bottle. I found one where Papa was digging. Been buried a long time, and it’s purple.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Will you come?”
Why not? I thought. “If it’s as pretty as you say,” I finally agreed.
He pulled a piece of lavender colored glass from his pocket.
“It’s broken,” I said.
“Didn’t say it wasn’t,” he replied. “But just look at the color when the light shines through it.”
He was right. It was beautiful.
It was a long walk to the swimming spot we had found on the other edge of town. I guess it was worth it to the boys, who liked to be sweating hot when they climbed up the side and dropped into the cool water of the tank that stood by the tracks to fill the tenders of the train locomotives when they came by.
All my coolness had evaporated in the heat, and I stood waiting for the boys in the shade below the tank. I was grateful for any breeze that stirred the air to cool me off, and I kicked back the hot sand with my bare feet to see if there was a cooler spot underneath.
“When are you coming down?” I shouted up. I was answered only by loud splashes and playful laughing. They didn’t hear me. They didn’t even hear the mournful wail of the faraway train whistle or my shouts of “Train’s coming!”
They did hear the wild shriek of the brakes, though, as the engine shuddered to a stop. The sudden suspension of splashing in the tank told me that. I knew it was too late for them to climb out now without being caught, so I hid down in the shadows and tried to look invisible.
The engineer jumped out and turned on the spigot to fill the water tender on his train. If he noticed me, he ignored me. Soon he closed the valve, climbed back in the engine, and with a double toot of the whistle was on his way again.
After the train sounds died away, Ed shouted down, “Turn some more water into the tank.”
“What for? Aren’t you wet enough already?” I teased.
“So we can get out. That train drank half the water, and we can’t reach the top.”
“Can’t reach the bottom either,” Frank added.
“Where’s the tap?” I asked, looking around for it. I could only see the one the engineer used to drain the tank.
“I don’t know,” Ed shouted impatiently, “but find it!”
Finally I found another valve. But the tap had been shut off by stronger hands than mine. “I’m not strong enough,” I cried.
“Oh, come on,” Ed encouraged. “Try harder.”
“Why don’t you stand on each other’s shoulders?” I suggested.
“We tried that, and it doesn’t work. We still can’t reach.”
“Climb up the sides then.”
“It’s too slippery,” Ed called.
“Go get Papa,” Frank insisted.
“He’ll be mad,” I reminded him.
“He sure will,” Ed said, reconsidering.
Finally, however, there seemed to be no other solution, so I started off on a run to find Papa.
I was stumbling from fatigue and panting for breath when Mr. Leslie, one of our neighbors, came along on his horse.
“Why, what’s the matter, Dora?” he asked.
“My brothers will drown in the water tank. They can’t get out.”
“The train tank? They shouldn’t be in there.”
“I know they shouldn’t, but they are. They were swimming and the train came along and took most of the water. Now they can’t reach the top to get out and I can’t turn on the tap and they’ll drown.”
“There, there, now calm down. We’ll get them out,” Mr. Leslie said soothingly. “I have my rope right here.” He reached down and pulled me up behind him on the horse, and we loped all the way back to the tank.
“Ed?” I called to the silence that had settled down as we rode up. “Mr. Leslie’s going to turn on the water.”
When the water started running into the tank in a slow trickle, Mr. Leslie climbed up and pulled the boys out one at a time with the rope. When they were all out and scrambling into their clothes, Ed asked Mr. Leslie, “You aren’t going to tell Papa about this, are you?”
“Can’t think of any reason why not,” Mr. Leslie replied.
“ ’Cause he’ll whip us good,” Frank said.
“A little whippin’ never hurt any boy that I know of,” Mr. Leslie teased.
“He’ll never let us go swimming again,” Frank pleaded.
“It’ll save us a lot of trouble if you could just forget this happened,” Ed suggested. “We’re willing to pay by working for you. We’ll both pull weeds for you for half a day.”
“I’ll help too,” I offered.
The next morning when we got up Papa was waiting with a little green willow.
“Somebody needs a whipping,” he said. I couldn’t figure out how he’d heard about swimming in the train tank so soon.
“Come over here,” he directed, and he led us out by our water tank. “Look at that mess.” He pointed to a mire where the cows had sloshed up and down all night in the mud made by my siphon. He picked up the onion hose that had been pulled from the tank.
“Who,” he thundered, “thought of this?”
“I didn’t do it,” Ed said.
“Me neither,” Frank insisted.
“Well, I’m sure it wasn’t Georgie,” Papa said. “Dora, was it you?”
I turned my face down so I wouldn’t have to look at his blazing eyes, and he could tell I was guilty.
“Run along, boys,” he said. “I have some private business with Dora.”
He had to switch me a little so I’d learn my lesson. Then when he was through he said, “That was really a smart way to get a cold drink, but it sure made a mess, didn’t it? Next time remember to turn it off.”
(To be continued.)

I have a photograph of my dad and me. It was taken at my Eagle Scout court of honor the summer before last. It is the last picture taken of my father before he became a quadriplegic. The court of honor was on a Saturday night. My father and I stood next to each other, his arm around me, while my mom pressed the button capturing us on film.
The next week I went to the beach with my parents, two younger sisters, and my friend Matt. Loaded down with baskets and blankets we journeyed to the beach. We found a good spot where there were not too many people around. My friend and I dropped everything and made a mad dash for the ocean. The water was warm, and the sky was clear. The waves did not look at all threatening. Everything was fine. We were swimming, body surfing the waves, and having seaweed fights. We were walking back to find our spot when I saw my dad go into the water. I decided to go back in and join him for a little body surfing.
We were standing next to each other, talking and waiting for the next wave. When it came, we both took it. My friend Matt was off somewhere swimming. I pulled out of it before it got too shallow. “Dad, did you have a good ride?” No answer. I looked around and I could not see him. I thought he was under the water and was going to grab my legs or something. Then I saw him. “Dad! Dad!” He was floating on his stomach, only his shorts and back visible.
I fought through the water to get to him. I remember thinking that he had to be all right because nothing like this could happen to us. I reached him and struggled to turn him over onto his back so he could breathe. This whole time I had been yelling, “Dad! Dad!” over and over again. I got him turned over and as his eyes met mine, my whole body shook with fear. There was no expression on is face, but I saw terror and panic in his eyes. At that moment a wave struck us, sending me reeling and tearing him from my arms. I fought back to the surface, but my father was not in sight. I started screaming, “Matt, help me find my dad! Find my dad! Help me find my dad!” I knew we had to find him before another wave came. I knew his life was in our hands.
I had no feeling at this time. I just knew we had to find him. We spotted his swimming suit a little ways off. We struggled through the water to reach him. I could see a wave coming and I felt like I was in some dream where people are chasing you but your feet are stuck to the ground. We reached him just before a wave hit us. Turning him over, we each grabbed under an arm and began to drag him in. This whole time we had been yelling for help. Two men appeared and then a lifeguard, and they helped us drag him onto the shore. I noticed that he was very white and that his lips were blue. His eyes were open and focused right on me. The lifeguard kept asking him to blink if he heard him, but his eyes just stared into mine.
All of a sudden my stomach just dropped. I had this wrenching feeling and I felt sick. I have never been so scared. I knew he must have a broken neck or back. He had some blood on his forehead so I guessed it must be his neck. We got him onto the shore, and before I knew it we were surrounded by lifeguards. They backed me off and began to give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
My mother had no idea of what was happening. I told Matt to run and get her. I did not want to leave my dad. I was walking around in a circle, sick with fear. I saw one of the lifeguards put her ear to his chest. They began to do CPR. They began to pound on his chest. I lost it. I knew he was dead. I knew that his heart had stopped. I started hollering, “No way, this can’t be happening! No way! No way!” A lifeguard came up to me and said, “You’re not going to help him by getting mad.” I knew he was right, but my staying calm would not help him either. Nothing I could do was going to help him.
By this time there was a huge crowd of people and more kept coming. I saw my mom running towards me. She did not know what had happened, but seeing all the people gathered she imagined the worst.
She was right; it was the worst. I ran to meet her. She was in hysterics, yelling at me to tell her what was wrong. Through the crowd she could see the lifeguards giving him CPR. She tried to go to him, but I held her back. She grabbed me and began sobbing.
A lifeguard came to us to tell us what was happening. By now the paramedics had arrived, and I saw them pull out electric shock devices, the kind you see in movies. He was dead, and they were trying to shock him back into life. All the strength went out of me and I almost fell to the ground. I could not watch anymore. I turned away. My mom still clung to me. She was talking and crying, but I couldn’t understand her.
One of the lifeguards came over to tell us that they got his heart beating. I felt no relief from this. By this time they had a tube in his mouth giving him oxygen because he was not breathing on his own. People were coming up to my mom and asking her if they could pray for him. I wanted to comfort her and act old and mature and tell her everything was going to be all right. But the only thing I could do was hold her and let her cry.
He lay there on the beach for about an hour with the lifeguards working on him. He was still unconscious, and his heart was very unstable. They slowly put him into the ambulance, and my mom got in also. I remember just standing there watching it drive away, wondering what our life was going to be like from then on.
He did have a broken neck and a severed spinal cord. The cord was severed so high that not only was he totally paralyzed from the neck down, but he was also unable to breathe on his own. At first some doctors told us that he would never be able to talk again or even come home to live. However, after six long, difficult months in a rehabilitation center, he was able to come home. Because of special equipment, he can breathe, talk, and even control a powered wheelchair. By sipping and puffing, he can make his chair do anything he wants.
He has been home for ten months now. It is great to be a family again. However, all of our lives have been affected by what has happened. We, as a family, are maintaining all of his care. I have had to assume many responsibilities. I do many things for him that he used to be able to do on his own.
Through all of this my dad has had the best attitude. He never seems mad or discouraged about what has happened, and he never complains about it. He just accepts it and lives his life to the best of his ability. He has been the ultimate example to me. If he can cope with this without getting discouraged and complaining, then it seems to me that all my problems are nothing.
My dad has accomplished many things in his life. At the time of his injury, he was president of our stake. I’m sure that it is a great comfort to him now that he has done so many things. This teaches me not to waste away a moment of my life. You never know what is going to happen to you. Also, before his accident, I was never sure what I was going to do with my life. Now, with all of the care I have rendered to him, I feel that I would like to become a doctor. This terrible accident has, in fact, affected me in a positive way.
I have another photograph of me and my dad. It was taken last summer outside in our front yard. I am standing next to him with my arm around him, and he is sitting in his wheelchair. As I compare the two pictures I can see the difference. It is not that he is in a wheelchair. Others probably couldn’t see the change, but to me, we are not the same people who were in a similar picture a year before. There has been a physical change, but the true change has occurred within. I deeply sense it whenever I look at the last photograph.

Fear filled Megan’s heart. As she looked around the crowded, noisy marketplace, tears welled up in her eyes. She was lost! Megan had been lost before, back home in Farmington, Utah, but that was in a small supermarket, where she had found Mom quickly. But now Megan wasn’t in Farmington. She wasn’t even in the United States. Megan was lost in a huge outdoor marketplace in Pusan, Korea.
Megan’s father had come to Korea on a business trip, so Mom and Megan had come along too. Going to another country was exciting. She had loved the long airplane trip and staying in hotels and eating in restaurants.
Since today was Saturday, Dad had the day off and the three of them had gone sight-seeing. Megan had never seen anything like the marketplace before. There were rows and rows and blocks and blocks of sellers. Each seller had his wares laid out on a tarp or on top of a crate for people to inspect and buy. Anything a person could need or want could be found in this huge place.
Megan had enjoyed seeing all the different things for sale. At one vendor’s she had seen beautiful Korean dolls dressed in brightly colored robes and the dolls’ hair combed in the traditional Korean style. There were kites, balls, and other toys. She’d also seen a strange musical instrument called a Kayagum. She loved the music that it made, and she just stood and listened for a long time while someone played it.
But now Megan’s tear-filled eyes searched longingly for her parents. All she saw were hundreds and hundreds of dark-haired Koreans milling around the marketplace, their loud bargaining filling the air. There was a strong smell of fish everywhere, and crates of fresh vegetables and fruit lined the aisles. Some of them Megan recognized; some she didn’t. When Megan saw pigs’ heads stuck on long stakes in the ground, her stomach felt queasy. Next to the pigs’ heads were plucked chickens hanging by their feet from a rope.
Megan’s fear was turning into panic. She couldn’t even ask anyone for help because she didn’t speak Korean. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and her body trembled with fear. She had never felt so alone in her life.
Remember that you are never alone, Megan. Heavenly Father is always near. The words that Mom had said so often came into Megan’s mind.
Megan stopped walking. She wiped the tears from her eyes, folded her arms, bowed her head, and shut her eyes. “Dear Heavenly Father,” she prayed softly, “I am lost and afraid. I don’t know how to ask anyone for help. Please help me to know what to do. Please protect me and help me find Mom and Dad. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
As Megan looked up after her prayer, she felt better. “Stay where you are,” prompted the small voice within her. “Stay where you are.”
Megan didn’t move, but she looked around. She was standing next to some upside-down crates displaying vegetables. A lady was standing behind the crates. As people walked by, the lady called out to them, inviting them to buy her produce.
As Megan stood there, her heart was still beating very fast. She had faith that her prayers would be answered, but it was hard just to stay in one place and wait. She thought about walking around some more, but the small voice again prompted her to stay where she was. Megan obeyed.
As Megan waited and watched for her parents, she started to hum. “A song always helps you feel better,” Grandma had told Megan. Humming did seem to help a little. Then without really thinking, Megan started to softly sing out loud, “‘I am a child of God, And he has sent me here, / Has given me an earthly home With parents kind and dear. / Lead me, guide me, walk beside me, Help me find the way. / Teach me all that I must do To live with him someday.’” *
The song soothed Megan’s fearful heart. She continued singing, a little louder this time: “‘I am a child of God, And so my needs are great; / Help me to understand his words Before it grows too late. …’”
Suddenly Megan felt a gentle touch on her sleeve. She turned and saw a Korean girl just about her size. The young girl’s dark black eyes were sparkling, and she was smiling.
Megan stopped singing and smiled back. Then Megan’s mouth opened in surprise as the little Korean girl sang, “Kil-ul chaja kage cho-rul towa chupsoso (Lead me, guide me, walk beside me).’”
Although Megan didn’t recognize the words, the tune was unmistakable. The Korean girl, still singing, took Megan’s hand and held it tightly.
Together—one in English, one in Korean—the girls sang the last verse of their Primary song. “‘I am a child of God. Rich blessings are in store; / If I but learn to do his will I’ll live with him once more. …’”
As the girls finished the song, they both laughed and started to talk in their own language. Neither understood the other, but both heard with their hearts.
“I’m lost,” said Megan.
“Kil-ul irutni (Have you lost your parents)?” asked the other child.
“My name is Megan,” said Megan, pointing to herself.
“Me-gun,” repeated the other girl with a smile.
Megan nodded and smiled.
The little Korean girl pointed to herself, saying, “Soon Hee.”
“Soon Hee,” repeated Megan. “That’s a pretty name. Soon Hee.”
The girls kept talking in their own language to each other. Soon they were giggling. Then Soon Hee started pulling Megan toward the woman selling vegetables.
Megan realized that the woman must be Soon Hee’s mother. In a flurry of words, Soon Hee spoke to the woman. Megan heard the word Molmon. She thought it might mean Mormon. Then Soon Hee started to sing “I Am a Child of God” again. Megan quickly joined in. When they had finished the song, the woman smiled and patted Megan’s arm, saying gently, “Chin-goo (friend).”
Megan smiled and tried to repeat the words that she had just heard. Although she tried hard, they didn’t come out right, and Soon Hee squealed with laughter. Megan joined in her laughter. It felt wonderful to laugh. Again the girls started chattering to each other, not really knowing what the other said, but understanding the other’s friendship.
Soon Hee’s mother said something to her, and she took Megan by the hand and led her to a blanket spread out on the ground behind the vegetable crates. Both girls sat on the blanket, and Soon Hee’s mother sat next to them, holding a round object that looked almost like an apple. She started to peel the yellow fruit with a knife.
“Bae (pear),” said Soon Hee, pointing to the fruit her mother was peeling in one long peel.
“Bae,” repeated Megan. Suddenly she realized how hungry she was.
After the bae was peeled, Soon Hee’s mother sliced it into sections. The first section was given to Megan. Megan smiled as she took the slice. It tasted sort of like a pear, yet like an apple. It was really delicious.
After the slices of bae were eaten by the two girls, they started chattering again to each other. The fear in Megan’s heart was replaced by a warm, friendly feeling.
As the girls chattered happily, Megan looked up to see her mom and dad making their way through the crowded marketplace. Her heart jumped with excitement. “Mom! Dad! Here I am,” she shouted. She scrambled up and ran toward her parents through the maze of people. Megan saw the look of relief in their eyes when they finally saw her. In the next instant she was in her mom’s loving arms, being hugged tightly.
“Megan. Oh, Megan. We were so worried about you!” Mom said with tears in her eyes.
Megan quickly told her parents what had happened. As she pulled them through the crowd of people, she explained all about Soon Hee, her mother, and their kindness.
When Megan and her parents reached Soon Hee and her mother, Megan’s dad bowed deeply to Soon Hee’s mother saying, “Jamaenim kamsa hamnida (Thank you, sister).”
The woman bowed back.
“Thank you ever so much. I don’t know how to ever thank both of you enough for helping our daughter,” Mom said gratefully while Dad translated the words.
Soon Hee’s mother smiled with a look of understanding.
Megan squeezed Soon Hee’s hand, saying, “Thank you, Soon Hee. You will always be my very special friend.”
As Megan walked between her parents, holding their hands tightly, she felt secure. She knew that her prayer had been heard and answered by a loving Heavenly Father. She knew that she was, indeed, never really alone.
Megan smiled, thinking about Soon Hee. She knew that whenever she sang “I Am a Child of God” in Primary, she would remember her friend in Pusan, Korea, who sang the same song.

My family visited a ranch where I got to ride a white horse. Another horse spooked him, and all of a sudden he was running away with me. I was bouncing about and holding on for dear life. Finally I fell off! The only parts of me that got hurt were my right foot and the top part of my leg. Everyone said that I held on for a long time and landed well. I know that Heavenly Father helped me so I wouldn’t get hurt badly. I know that He protects us all, and that we should thank Him.Audrey M., age 10, Washington

When Ane was in high school, she looked forward to the day that she would attend a university. There were so many subjects she could study and so many careers she could choose from! “I had many, many interests and could do so many different things,” she says.

Although Ane lived in a small town in Norway, she attended a very good high school. Her school encouraged its students to work hard for good grades and to attend a university. Many students at Ane’s school began university studies immediately after graduating. From a young age, Ane had planned to do the same. Going to school, however, was only one of the goals Ane had set for herself.

“I have been well taught in Young Women through lessons and Personal Progress,” Ane says. “My goal has always been to marry in the temple.”

One evening at the local institute, Ane met a recently returned missionary named Benjamin. “From the first moment I saw him, he impressed me in so many ways,” says Ane. “It was so easy and nice to talk with him. We could easily talk about the gospel.”

Benjamin asked her on a date, and it went well. Over the coming months, Benjamin and Ane dated more. They played soccer and volleyball, went on hikes, and watched movies. Gradually they came to know each other better, and their friendship grew into romance.

As their courtship continued, their thoughts and plans turned to marriage. Ane and Benjamin were happy to have found the person they wanted to be with for eternity. However, this relationship became serious sooner than either of them had expected. What would happen to all the plans they had made when they were young? Would they still be able to seek an education? Would the decision to marry mean that their other goals would be postponed?

Some of their friends and family thought that this would be the case.

“Many people around me—at home, at school, and at work—were very concerned about how this relationship would affect my education,” Ane says. “They would question whether I even knew this relationship was going to last.

“Friends my age thought that getting married would prevent me from attending university,” she said. “To them, it seemed like I would be wasting my talents and opportunities.”

Some of Benjamin’s acquaintances felt the same way. “People wanted me to believe that we were too young, that my soon-to-be wife should complete an education first, and that if we got married, it would mean that we would have children, which we were also too young for,” he says.

Although Ane and Benjamin believed in the gospel’s emphasis on family and marriage, others not of their faith did not generally share this priority—at least not for young adults. “People in my town are strongly focused on education and work,” Ane explains. “This is good, but it does not leave much room for family—or religion.”

Both Benjamin and Ane were concerned about the advice and opinions given by their friends. For a whole year they struggled to decide on the right time to get married. They knew that ultimately the most important guidance would come from the Lord, so they spent much time searching the scriptures and words of the prophets for talks about family, marriage, and education.

“All these sources talk about how important both marriage and education are,” Ane says. As she continued in her search for direction, clarity finally came in a conversation with an institute leader. “She told me, ‘When you have the right person and the right place (the temple), it’s the right time!’” Ane remembers. “This really eased my mind. I received many promptings from the Spirit confirming that this was the path I should take. I came to know that Benjamin and I would get married and that it was the right thing for me to do at this time.”

Ane knew that she would still work toward getting an education, because that was also something that the Lord’s prophets encourage. But for now she knew that marriage would be her first priority.

Ane felt sad because she knew that few people would consider her marriage at that age something to be happy about. But she chose to focus on learning to recognize the promptings of the Spirit and on what the Lord thought instead of what her peers thought. “This was what I would need to stand strong and upright with the choice I had made,” she says.

Ane and Benjamin were married on July 16, 2009, in the Stockholm Sweden Temple. “When the day of our temple sealing arrived, I felt such peace,” Ane says. “It was all very simple. Beautiful. No worldly trappings. It felt so good to be with my parents and siblings in the temple—and with Benjamin. It was a time filled with true love.”

Although the months leading up to their marriage were hard, Ane is grateful for the trials she went through. “It forced me to take a stand,” she says. “God helped and strengthened me through scriptures, prayers, and priesthood blessings. Many of the people who were originally negative have come to acknowledge that what I chose was good and right. They see that I truly have found happiness. They have thanked me for trusting myself and the Lord.”

After their marriage, Ane and Benjamin moved to a new town where they both began their university studies. Soon they welcomed their daughter, Olea, and Ane temporarily put her studies on hold. Ane will continue her education part-time and online, allowing her both to get an education and to stay at home to nurture their daughter. Although she knows that such an arrangement will be hard work, Ane will still be able to get the education she desires.

“Some people may have thought that I had to sacrifice many things to get married and start a family,” she says, “and it could have looked that way. But in reality I have gained everything. I know that when I choose to put the Lord first, everything else will be given me. I am very excited and thankful to get my degree. But most of all I am thankful that we have the opportunity to be an eternal family!”

Mother took pieces of wood from a dwindling pile on the kitchen floor and put them through the open door of the cookstove. She was heating the oven to bake bread. Six loaves were rising on the warming shelf along the top of the stove. A rush of warm air met Jack, my brother, who was five, and Uncle Bob, who was ten, as they brought in armloads of wood and stacked them carefully beside the stove. In my dad’s family, boys were considered men when they were ten years old, and they were expected to do a full day’s work.
Uncle Bob is my dad’s youngest brother. Dad was about seventeen when Uncle Bob was born. Dad always had a special love for him. No matter where we lived, Dad would get lonesome to see Uncle Bob and would often go home to his parents’ place just to see him.
As he was growing up, Uncle Bob often came to our home. He helped Dad with the haying and the fieldwork. He carried wood for my mother. He really enjoyed eating all the delicious food Mother prepared.
The rest of Dad’s family had been converted to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints after Dad was grown and had left home. Uncle Bob was the youngest member of Dad’s family, and he had a special testimony of the Church.
One day Uncle Bob stacked an armload of wood and turned to my mother. The Spirit was strong in his heart as he began to explain the things he had been learning in church and through study of the scriptures and personal prayer. He told her many things about the gospel of Jesus Christ and about Joseph Smith’s praying to know which church was true and discovering that not one of the churches in his day had the fullness of the gospel. Uncle Bob told her how Joseph Smith had been privileged to see God the Father and his Son, Jesus Christ, and to know for himself that they had bodies of flesh and bone, just as he had. Uncle Bob’s eyes never wavered from my mother’s face as he bore his strong testimony.
Mother didn’t believe a boy so young as Uncle Bob could know these things. She became angry at the words she was hearing and told Uncle Bob, “You may come back to my house anytime, but never mention these things here again.”
Uncle Bob loved my parents and wanted to come as often as he could. He agreed. “Aunt Ruth, I will never mention these things again in your home, I promise. I also promise you that someday you will ask me to baptize you.”
Now, this was many years ago, when young people did not speak their minds. They were expected to show respect to those who were older than they. It took a lot of courage for Uncle Bob to speak to my mother this way.
We spent many happy times with Uncle Bob. He stayed with us occasionally while our parents went to visit my mother’s family. He never broke his promise to my mother by again speaking of the great truths of the gospel or bearing his testimony, not even when both of our parents were away.
One year, Uncle Bob came to stay for two weeks. My sister, Jeannie, made spice cake every day. We whipped a half-gallon canful of pure cream for the topping. The smells seemed to curl around the corners of the room and out to the fields where Jack and Uncle Bob worked. It made your mouth water, it was such a tangy odor. But not even then, with a stove full of wood and stomach full of sweet spice cake did Uncle Bob break his vow to my mother.
The years kept going by, one by one. Uncle Bob grew up, married, and had six sons and one daughter. He always stayed close to the Church. He knew that it was true. He held many callings over the years. He served wherever he was needed, and in later years he became a stake patriarch and a temple worker in the Portland Oregon Temple.
In 1971 Uncle Bob was fifty years old and my mother was sixty-four when she telephoned him one day. It’s curious—after all those years, she still remembered! Mother said, “Will you come, Bob. Will you come and baptize me?” On April 15, 1971—forty years after my uncle had made his promise to her—he baptized my mother a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

One day, my grandchildren, Seth, Cole, and Paige, were visiting me. Paige and I were playing a game in our downstairs family room. Seth and Cole were upstairs in the living room, playing “cars.” They were taking turns to see whose car could go the fastest and farthest.
I didn’t actually know what they were doing until Seth came downstairs and said, “Grandma, you need to come upstairs for a few minutes.”
I went upstairs, and he pointed to my favorite porcelain figurine of two boys playing marbles. “Grandma,” he said, “my car accidentally hit the figurine and broke the head off the boy.”
I was pretty upset, and he knew it. But I said, “Maybe my superglue will fix it.” We got it out, and I was able to very carefully mend the figurine. I didn’t tell Seth how proud I was of him for admitting what he had done, because I was still upset. Both boys know that they shouldn’t play cars in the living room!
The next day, after Seth had gone back home to Idaho (I live in Logan, Utah), I started to think about how much courage it must have taken him to choose the right and tell me the truth about the broken boy.
I wrote him a letter right away and told him so, and that I was proud of him. He could have blamed it on Cole, or he could have never told me at all. I also told him how glad I was that only a porcelain figurine had been broken and not his testimony of choosing the right.

Throughout my life, I have struggled to feel like I fit in. Growing up, I was labeled as “overly sensitive,” and my big emotions affected every aspect of my life. I felt like I was always too loud and too emotional.
As I got older, this insecurity about my personality began to affect my mental health. But I also noticed something else—the way my body looked depended on how I felt mentally. Sometimes, when I was in a cycle of depression, I lost weight quickly. In other times of my life, I gained weight quickly. For me, it felt like my emotions and body were tied closely together, and that made it hard to love what I saw in the mirror.
As I dealt with these struggles, my insecurity deepened. It made me wonder:
How could I find my place in God’s plan if I couldn’t find my place in this world?
When I was in college, I received my endowment. As I attended the temple for the first time, I was filled with a lot of peace, but I wasn’t entirely clear on what I had learned.
So, I decided to worship in the temple regularly to better understand. I also prayed to Heavenly Father with specific questions so I could understand what He was trying to teach me.
When I did this, the Spirit taught me that I could draw strength from my divine identity—even if I felt insecure about my personality or how I looked. The endowment ceremony in the temple showed me that a loving Father in Heaven created our unique bodies and spirits for a specific purpose—to come to this earth and become like Him.
Over time, the more often I worshipped in the temple, the better I felt about myself. This didn’t come instantly or perfectly, but for me, a combination of therapy, medication, and prayer was what I needed to create a healthy sense of self-image.
I now understand that my body and emotions are not a burden—they’re a blessing from Heavenly Father! And I’ve found that when we continually stand in holy places, even when we are going through a hard time, we will be blessed.
While the temple gives me a better understanding and perspective, there are still times when I struggle with a deep sadness about my mind and body. And I know there are others who may feel the same way I do.
For those who battle mental or physical challenges, I have found that standing in holy places anchors me to Jesus Christ and helps me endure those bad days. Now I love who I am and strive to improve every day—because I have found my identity as a daughter of God.
I promise that knowing your divine nature will change how you see yourself, and this knowledge will give you peace when you need it most.

I was in Arizona a few years ago, and the president of a stake told me about one of his boys having been called to go on a mission. The boy went to the patriarch before he left, and the patriarch gave him a blessing. He told the boy that he should be satisfied with the assignment he would receive. And he said, “You shall see floods to the right of you and floods to the left of you, and your life will be protected and preserved.” He was assigned to the East Central States Mission, and while he was serving there, there was a major flood. This missionary was marooned in Louisville, Kentucky, in a house from which he had to be rescued in a boat, and he lived to see floods to the right of him and floods to the left of him. I ask you, how could the patriarch have known that when he gave that blessing, except by the inspiration of the Almighty?

President Hinckley himself is not intimidated by a difficult task. As newlyweds, the Hinckleys moved into the Hinckley farmhouse—a summer home with no furnace. Kathy says, “Dad approached this problem the way we would see him solve many others—head-on. He ordered a furnace and began reading the installation instructions. The furnace worked perfectly. He’s wanted us to take on challenges using the same approach—decide on what you want, follow the instructions carefully, and work at it.”

“Tillman dribbles downcourt. He’s double-teamed by O’Neal and Hardaway. Wow! Somehow he got free. Slam dunk! The crowd is going wild. Tillman comes up with a steal. He stops behind the three-point line. It’s good! Robert Tillman has single-handedly brought his team …”
“What do you think, Robert?”
“Uh, obey the commandments.”
“Good. That is one thing you can do. Now, Sylvia, what else can you … ”
Hah. Sunday School is the same every week. Every answer is “obey the commandments,” or “read the scriptures,” or “pray.” All I have to do is use one of those answers. No listening required. I’d rather be watching basketball anyway. Someday I’ll be playing professional basketball. Boy, I’ve got to practice more. But Mom wouldn’t let me play on Sunday anyway. I don’t know why she won’t let me. I go to church, so why can’t I have the rest of the day off …
“Robert, do you have any ideas?”
“Obey the commandments.”
“That’s what Jerry said.”
“Oh, I meant read the scriptures.”
“Very good.”
Man, this is so easy. The answers are so simple. I don’t need this. What I need is a math tutor so I don’t fail math. If I fail math, I won’t be eligible to play basketball. I have to play. If I don’t, it’ll rule out my chances of getting a scholarship. Without that, I can say good-bye to the pros. I thought the Holy Ghost was supposed to help me. And I need help with my homework. What have I done wrong? What am I supposed to do to get help from Heavenly Father? I don’t do anything wrong. I don’t drink or smoke. I don’t even have a girlfriend. I don’t swear. I wish someone would just tell me what I am supposed …
“Brother Tillman. Please wake up and tell us what we can do to stay close to our Heavenly Father.”
“Oh, sorry. How about pray?”
“Very good, Robert.”
Pray. That’s the answer to almost all the questions in this class. I wish math was as easy as this class. Sunday School is so easy, and I know all the answers. Pray. Obey the commandments. Read the scriptures. It’s easy. If I do all of those things, my problems will disappear. That means if I do all those things, I will get help with my math. Well, it hasn’t worked so far. I read the scriptures. Just today in priesthood, I read a scripture. President Hunter said to read the scriptures every day. Well, I don’t read every day, but … I guess I don’t read much at all. I have homework, basketball, my friends.
I do everything else. I pray. At least I used to say my prayers every night. Sometimes when I stay up doing homework, I’m too tired to kneel down. In the morning, I don’t have time. I’d be late for school if I took time to say my prayers all the time. I’m sure Heavenly Father wouldn’t want to hear prayers from me when I’m tired. Well, maybe he would.
I do keep all the commandments. I don’t kill, I don’t steal, and I don’t take the Lord’s name in vain. I keep the Sabbath day holy. Most of the time. Well, I suppose I do have some work to do there …
“What would you say, Sylvia?”
“Listen to the Holy Ghost.”
“That’s right.”
That makes sense. The answers to the questions are easy to say in class. They’re just words there. It’s life where it gets more difficult. There, you can’t just say the words. You have to put in the effort too. I guess I’ve never really thought about it that way before. I definitely need Heavenly Father’s help. I better get to work.