Gospel Story Finder

I had an experience as a young man in which I felt a distinct “enticement” to change. This experience helped me understand the difference between who I thought I was and who I really am in God’s eyes.

During a temple recommend interview prior to my mission, the bishop asked, “Are you honest in your dealings with your fellowman?”

I paused for a moment, evaluated my honesty from my point of view, and thoughtfully responded, “Yes.”

I went to the temple and then to Germany to share the gospel of Jesus Christ with others. As I studied the scriptures, taught the gospel, and served God, the influence of the Holy Ghost increased in my life. My thoughts and attitudes began to change. I had an increased understanding of God’s expectations of me. As Preach My Gospel describes, I began “forming a fresh view of God, [myself], and the world” (PMG, 2004, 62).

One evening my companion and I were teaching a lesson on honesty, and an experience came to my mind that had occurred before my mission. As a sixteen-year-old, I had fixed up an old ’46 Chevy truck to drive to school and work, but it was an ongoing challenge to keep it running.

One day, when a friend and I were driving along a country road, we noticed a truck similar to mine discarded in a field next to some old equipment. The old truck was partially dismantled and rusting away, but it had a part that was missing on my truck. Since the truck in the field appeared to be abandoned, I rationalized that surely no one would miss the part. My friend encouraged me, and we removed the part from the abandoned truck and put it on my truck. I justified my action by reasoning that the owner didn’t really need the part and I did.

In the mission field, I was teaching investigators that stealing is taking something that does not belong to you. My experience of taking that once-insignificant rusty truck part was brought forcefully back to my memory. Suddenly I was pained by my having taken the part. I knew it was wrong. The Spirit helped me understand that from God’s point of view, I had not been honest. I began repenting and asking God for forgiveness. I realized that to be a true disciple of Jesus Christ, to teach gospel principles, and to testify with power, I must be living those principles. From a cowboy’s perspective, I knew I had to have both feet in the stirrups.

This incident was on my mind for the remaining eighteen months of my mission. When I returned home, it was a great relief to find the owner of that old truck, reimburse him for what I had taken, and complete my repentance. At last I felt clean, and I was filled with joy and peace.

I learned a valuable lesson from that experience. There is only one way to assess our ­honesty, or any other aspect of our conduct, and that is from God’s point of view—not our view, our friends’ view, or the views of people in our ­community, including the online community.

Elder Kikuchi related how, as a young missionary called to serve in Japan for two years, he was first asked to extend for six months and then for an additional 12 months. He agreed without hesitation but each time asked his mission president to call the future Sister Kikuchi. “She was so happy that the Lord needed her future husband,” he recalled.

The young couple married soon after he returned, Elder Kikuchi continued. Then a Latter-day Saint American general who had been stationed in Japan offered to provide him with a complete scholarship and living expenses at Brigham Young University in Provo. “It was a wonderful, ideal situation,” he said, “but we felt we should stay in our country and serve the Church. We kindly turned down that great scholarship.”

Ten months after enrolling in the Asia University of Tokyo—where he eventually graduated in business psychology and management—“I was called as a branch president, and one year later our first daughter came,” Elder Kikuchi said, recalling he got by on four hours of sleep a night. “Those days were the most profound experiences of our lives.”

The salesman said, “It’s rather interesting that you should ask those questions. A few nights ago I was at the airport in Salt Lake City and it was extremely crowded. I hadn’t been there very long when your ‘boss’ came in. The only empty seat was right next to me, and there I was smoking a cigarette. As he sat by me I turned away from him and blew the smoke in the opposite direction. He then put his arm around me and said, ‘Never mind, young man. We know that not all of the people in the state of Utah are members of the Church.’”
Then the salesman told me that the man, President David O. McKay, my “boss,” had asked him basically the same questions that l had.

Years ago, when we lived in a mountainous area of Southern California, my wife called me as I was driving home from work and said, “Gary, be careful when you park in the garage because there is an overturned green plastic tub that I threw over a rattlesnake in there. Would you please take care of it when you get here?”

The garage doors had been newly varnished that day and because one of them had not completely dried, the workers had not yet put the rubber seal on the bottom. This small crack between the closed door and the ground allowed the rattlesnake to slither in.

Dear friends, please seal up any cracks in your life so that the adversary cannot destroy you. None of us would feel comfortable with a rattlesnake in our garage. How about in our house, our bedroom, our backpack, pocket, or our purse? We need to be very careful about what types of media we engage in and let into our minds. Much of it is far more dangerous than a rattlesnake which can only kill the body. Eternity is at stake and purity is the lynchpin. Be pure.

Elder Quentin L. Cook told about a life-changing role a stake Relief Society president had in Tonga. During a stake conference held while Elder Cook was there, the names of sixty-three prospective elders were sustained for ordination to the Melchizedek Priesthood. When Elder Cook asked how this “miracle” had been accomplished, the stake president told him that in a stake council meeting, the stake Relief Society president spoke of many men in their late twenties and early thirties who had not served missions and who were in various stages of activity. She suggested that the council focus on priesthood ordinations and temple ordinances for them as well as for their wives—some of whom were less active or not members.

“As she spoke, the Spirit confirmed to the [stake] president that what she was suggesting was true,” Elder Cook related.

It was decided that the men of the priesthood and the women of the Relief Society would reach out to rescue these men and their wives. . . . Those involved in the rescue focused primarily on preparing them for the priesthood, eternal marriage, and the saving ordinances of the temple. During the next two years, almost all of the 63 men who had been sustained to the Melchizedek Priesthood at the conference I attended were endowed in the temple and had their spouses sealed to them. This account is but one example of how critical our sisters are in the work of salvation. [“LDS Women Are Incredible!” Ensign, May 2011, 20–21]

When Kahn turned 4, we holidayed in our homeland of Samoa, where we reconnected with Kahn’s birth family. They welcomed us with open arms, and Kahn’s birth grandmother wept when she recognised him. “Your son is gorgeous,” she said. “He’s so active, and he looks like he enjoys his food, too.”

It was an emotional reunion. They thanked us for loving and nurturing Kahn—and then they asked if we had room in our lives for another child.

My husband and I were astonished.

We discovered that Kahn’s birth mother had another baby. Naree Alalafaga was 5 months old at the time and, again, her family wanted more for this child than they were able to offer.

My mother’s words echoed softly in my mind: you reap what you sow.

It wasn’t by chance we met our miracle daughter this way. The Lord knows our deepest desires, and what is best for us. So, when our reunion with Kahn’s birth family brought a precious addition—his baby sister—to our home, it just felt right.

A few months ago, most of the youth in Salt Lake City’s Big Cottonwood Stake had never even heard of Urubamba, Peru. Now they’ll tell you it’s home to nearly 1,000 of their closest friends.
How did this unlikely friendship start? With one returned missionary named Van Evans. Brother Evans served his mission in Peru and now serves as a volunteer in an organization called the Humanitarian Foundation of the Andes. He told some of the youth and their leaders about the kinds of items that were needed in towns throughout the Andes. These items included basics like clothing, hygiene supplies, and building materials. After careful consideration, the youth decided to make Urubamba a part of their youth conference.
The original goal was to supply good Sunday clothes for each member of the LDS branch in Urubamba. Brekke Platt, a Laurel who served on the youth council, explained, “We didn’t want people to feel they couldn’t go to church because they didn’t have Sunday clothes.”
The young men and young women asked for donations from stake members. The results were overwhelming: more than 90 men’s suits were donated, as well as countless women’s dresses and children’s Sunday clothes.
By now the youth were getting excited about how great it felt to get things together for people who they knew would be thrilled to receive it, so they extended the scope of the project. They learned that hygiene supplies were desperately needed, so they got to work.
As part of their youth conference activity, the youth used donations from their stake to put together packets containing basic supplies like soap and toothpaste. Included in each packet was a written testimony and an expression of love.
Two young men jumped at the chance to complete their Eagle Scout requirements through service. The foundation was planning a trip to the Andes so it could build a medical post in Urubamba, but lots of preparatory work needed to be done at home first.
Scout John Tateoka gathered friends and family and coordinated a project of painting window frames, siding, and doors for the medical post. His fellow Scout, Adam Watts, contacted several construction suppliers for possible donations. In a short time, the necessary donations and work were complete, and supplies were shipped to Peru.
But the service didn’t stop there. The young people’s enthusiasm for the people in Urubamba was contagious, and soon donations of eyeglasses, sewing machines, seeds, and maternity supplies were pouring in.
So why is it that the people of this stake, who started out with a fairly small goal of providing some Sunday clothes, reached out so generously to people they had never even met?
According to Gary Brimley, a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood, the answer is simple. “We’re all members of one church,” he says. “We care for everyone and work together as one unit.”

On the last evening of camp, everyone gets together for a testimony meeting. It’s the night that most girls look forward to. One young girl who had just moved to the area stood and with tears in her eyes said she had been very lonely because she was the only one in her family that went to church. Before coming to camp, she worried about being accepted, but she found people who comforted her and understood. Another girl told of her struggle to know for herself if the Church was true. The warmth and caring expressed to her at camp helped her in her search. Many were touched by the concern shown them by a leader or friend. It was a time for sharing feelings of love.

We later learned that Mac was a prayer cat in more ways than one. I discovered this one afternoon when I couldn’t find my list of spelling words. I needed it to study for a big test the next day, but it wasn’t in my backpack or with my schoolbooks. I was frantic. I came out from looking under my bed and saw Mac watching me.
“What do you want?” I said irritably. “It’s not time for family prayer. Go away, you silly cat.”
Mac just sat staring at me. As I looked at him, I remembered that I hadn’t prayed.
“Well, maybe you’re right,” I admitted. “This is probably the perfect time for a prayer.”
I knelt by my bed and asked Heavenly Father to help me find my spelling list. When I finished, I felt Mac brushing his head against my arm. I sat down and scratched behind his ears. Then I remembered! On the way home from school I had taken my list out to practice the spelling words with my friend. Quickly I felt in my coat pocket and found the list.
“Thanks, Mac,” I said. “Thanks for reminding me that any time is a good time for prayer.” Then I knelt again and thanked Heavenly Father for helping me.

Elder Edward Dube was introduced to the gospel in 1981 by an employer in whose home he worked. The man gave him a copy of the Book of Mormon. He did not read it until 1983 but then was so impressed with Joseph Smith’s testimony of the visitation of Moroni that he responded to an invitation to attend a fast and testimony meeting at the meetinghouse in Kwekwe, Zimbabwe.
He felt uncomfortable at first, feeling that he was in a servant relationship to most of those in attendance.
“But as they bore their testimonies about the Book of Mormon, I felt some connection with these people,” he recalled, “and I was able to share my feelings about the Book of Mormon.”
He would later receive missionary lessons, be baptized, and eventually serve in the Zimbabwe Harare Mission.

Rulon Gardner grew up in the small town of Afton, Wyoming. He is one of nine children. His mother and father are faithful members of the Church and instilled proper values in their children.

But because Rulon was so large, his classmates teased him. The taunts and name-calling troubled young Rulon, but he never became angry or resentful. He could have withdrawn and become bitter. Like so many others, he could have counted all the things that were going wrong and simply given up.

Instead, he used the insults as motivation. He determined he would use his size to his advantage. He would make something of himself.

“I would go out, as a kid,” Rulon said, “and I could barely pick up a bale of hay. By the time my senior year came around, I was grabbing four bales of hay at a time, each 100 pounds. Just grabbing them and walking with them and seeing how physically strong I could be” (in Alan Robinson, “Wrestler’s Magic Moment,” Associated Press, Sydney, Australia, 28 September 2000 [at www.abcnews.go.com/sections/sports/DailyNews/oly_gardner_000928.html]).

He milked cows twice a day, often in subzero temperatures. He lifted frozen bales of hay to feed the cows. At times he would carry a newborn calf into the safety of a warm barn. He got up early in the morning, did his chores, then went to school. After school he either went to wrestling or football practice, then back to the farm to do more chores.

Rulon found that his size wasn’t a disadvantage for him as an athlete—in fact, it was an asset. Wrestling particularly came easy to him, and he became the Wyoming state champion. After graduating from high school he decided that perhaps he might be good enough to compete in the Olympic games.

In Atlanta in 1996, due to a miscommunication, he arrived at the weigh-in 22 seconds too late and missed his chance to compete. Again Rulon could have despaired. He could have cursed his luck. He could have become embittered and resentful.

But do you know what he did? He worked harder. Instead of burying himself in self-pity, he began speaking at youth firesides about his experience. “I missed the Olympic games by 22 seconds,” he told his eager listeners. “Don’t you let anything keep you from your goals.”

After four years of hard work, Rulon Gardner wanted to compete in the 2000 Olympic games in Sydney, Australia. The only trouble was, he couldn’t afford the trip. That’s when the members of his hometown rallied to his side. They held bake sales and potluck dinners and raised enough money to allow Rulon and his family to make the trip to Sydney.

This time he did not miss the weigh-in. He advanced through the preliminary rounds until he reached the final obstacle to his gaining a gold medal.

That obstacle was a man the world called the Siberian Bear, Alexander Karelin. This Russian bear is considered by most as the greatest Greco-Roman wrestler in the history of the sport. Not only had he not lost a single match in 13 years, but no one had scored a point on him in more than a decade. Karelin had won the gold medal in three previous Olympic Games and was the heavy favorite to win an unprecedented fourth gold medal.

But at the end of the gold-medal match, it was the farm boy from Afton, Wyoming, who stood triumphant in what many consider the greatest upset of the summer Olympic games.

“The reason I think I won,” Rulon said, “is because I work harder than anyone else, train harder. And every day I live my life, I do everything I need to do to put my life in order” (in Alan Robinson, Associated Press).

Waving an American flag, a grateful Rulon Gardner thanked his family, his God, and his hometown of Afton, Wyoming, for their helping to make the moment possible.

Winning the gold medal in such a stunning way made Rulon an instant celebrity. Sometimes this sort of attention changes people. Sometimes people become more calloused. Sometimes they forget those they owe the most to. But not Rulon Gardner.

Recently, while a guest on an evening talk show, the host invited Rulon to watch some highlights from his Olympic victory. Without warning, the picture changed to a live shot from Afton, Wyoming. It seemed that the entire population of the town had assembled in the high school gymnasium. They cheered and shouted and held up signs that said, “Rulon’s got milk!” and “My uncle rocks!”

As this man—one of the strongest men in the world—looked into the television monitor at the faces of the people he loved, tears of gratitude came to his eyes.

In a letter written to his stake president, Rulon Gardner said:
The Lord has given me the chance to work for all my dreams. I feel the Church has helped me to focus and live my life in the ways that have helped me to train and become an Olympic champ. . . . I am blessed . . . to be a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. [Letter to President Val J. Call, Afton Wyoming Stake, 20 October 2000]

Rulon Gardner knows what it means to be grateful.

Numerous individuals and couples have served both international and local welfare missions. The variety and scope of their service grew to span both the globe and the range of human need. As they have served on projects including instruction and practical help on food security, medical aid, sewing, clean water projects, and literacy to help for the disabled, welfare missionaries have followed the Savior’s example to care for those in need. Their reports show the spiritual dimension of this temporal service. Sister Connie Polve and her companion, both nurses serving welfare missions in Paraguay, treated an infant suffering from a severe skin infection. She reported, “I distinctly felt the Spirit of the Holy Ghost descend upon me and I knew that I was no longer operating under my own direction, but was indeed being a literal tool in the hand of the Lord to do a work for Him upon the earth.” The infant recovered, and the family—once “lost, timid people”—radiated “strength and [the] light of Christ [in] their countenances.”11 Today, over 11,000 missionaries care for those in need in 188 countries.12

When I held an online interview with Darlyn and she turned on her camera, she gave me the biggest smile. It was morning in Singapore, and she had gotten up early to meet with me before getting her three kids to school and herself to work.
Darlyn had always wanted to get a master’s degree, but at 36, she was diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. This upset her plans for further education and her plans for life.
As I listened to her story, I thought that if anyone had a right to be upset with difficult changes, it was Darlyn. But she pointed out the blessings and mercies she’d received and the people who had served her. Darlyn accepted the change of plans with grace. Instead of focusing on what she had lost, she focused on the experiences she had gained. Just as President Russell M. Nelson taught, “The joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives.”1
Ultimately, Darlyn joined BYU–Pathway Worldwide because she wanted to keep her mind healthy. She told me she didn’t hate having cancer—she was grateful it led her to BYU–Pathway and to deepen her relationship with Jesus Christ.
I left that conversation wanting to change my perspective of change. Because Darlyn had put aside resentment and anger about her circumstances, she was able to take control of her life. Instead of challenges and change deterring her progress, they propelled her forward.

Those of us who are a little more mature can have a tremendous influence on the younger generations. When my mother was just a little girl, neither of her parents was active in the Church. Even at the young age of five, she would walk by herself to church and attend her meetings—Primary, Sunday School, and sacrament meeting—all at different times.
I recently asked my mother why in the world she did that week after week when she had no support or encouragement at home. Her answer was: “I had Primary teachers who loved me.” These teachers cared about her and taught her the gospel. They taught her that she had a Father in Heaven, who loved her, and it was their concern for her that kept her coming week after week. My mother said to me, “That was one of the most important influences in my early life.” I hope I can thank those wonderful sisters someday! There is no age barrier when it comes to Christlike service.

Last Easter during general conference, President Russell M. Nelson called on us to increase our faith.1 These last few months have been rather challenging for my family—physically, emotionally, financially and spiritually. Between March and May this year, a second surge of the pandemic hit Madagascar, my home country, in an unprecedented way, completely overwhelming the health system. Many people and even doctors were asking questions like, “What is happening to us?” “Where is God?” and “Are we such bad people to deserve such a calamity?”
Our family has not been spared, as my wife and I, most of my siblings and their spouses, and my parents were infected. My mother, my wife and I, having a more serious form of the disease, had to be hospitalized and were put together in a single room. After ten days of treatment and improvement, my wife and I were discharged with a recommendation to rest in bed for several more weeks.
My mother was left alone. Her feeling of loneliness turned to depression, as none of us could visit her. She then requested to be brought home and treated by me, a medical doctor. We all reasoned with her, as it was impossible to meet her oxygen needs at home. As her condition worsened, she became angry with all of us, and her desire to go home became a command. We finally were all convinced to bring her home as we miraculously found a solution to her oxygen supply needs. Once home, she slowly improved each day. But on the following Sunday morning, she suddenly went into cardiorespiratory arrest before my eyes. I immediately started, with the help of my brother, the best—and longest—resuscitation I have ever provided. We finally had to resign ourselves to the fact that she would pass away. With my eyes filled with tears, I signed the official medical death declaration for the woman who gave birth to me.
After comforting my loved ones, my mind became filled with questions and doubts. Had I, as a doctor, done something wrong in the care I had provided to my mother? Did we make the wrong decision in bringing her home? Those moments of doubts and questioning required me to work on increasing my faith to feel peace.
I received a call from Elder S. Mark Palmer, the Africa South Area President, who ministered to me with so much love. As I reported how my mother passed away for a reason I did not understand, he said: “As a doctor, you do not understand. But as a servant of the Lord, you do.”2
I have always had a strong faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, but what Elder Palmer said helped me get back on the right track.

Six-year-old Jason rode down the street on his new red bicycle. It was the first time he had ridden his bike without his eleven-year-old brother, Ray, riding along beside him. Jason grinned as he thought about his big brother. Ray was fun to be with. He would often take Jason along with him when he went to the park or to the baseball field. But now Ray had gone to the store for Mother, so Jason was riding by himself.
“Aaaah,” he called as he pedaled past his mother.
She smiled and waved at him. Jason didn’t dare let go of the handlebars to wave back, but he gave her a big smile. When he turned around and pedaled back to his house again, his mother motioned for him to stop. Born with a profound hearing loss, Jason wore a hearing aid in each ear. The only sounds that he could hear were very soft and unclear, so Jason had only begun to learn to talk.
“Jason,” Mother said, at the same time using sign language, “I’m going into the house to do dishes now. It will soon be dark. Please come inside in just a few minutes.”
“OK.” Jason tried to form the word with his mouth as he finger-spelled.
Mom smiled and rumpled his hair before she walked into the house, and Jason pedaled his bike down the street again. It was exciting riding past the houses, with a rush of the wind against his face. Jason wished he could go farther than the corner. It would be neat to ride around the block. The thrill of such an adventure filled his mind. He decided to go partway around, then come straight back. But as Jason pedaled faster and faster, pretending that he was a fireman racing his truck to a fire, he sped down several blocks. “Aaaah!” he crowed happily.
Then the cry froze in his throat as he stared at the unfamiliar houses that he was passing. The bicycle wobbled and nearly fell over before Jason could come to a stop. He looked around him with wide, frightened eyes. Where am I? he wondered.
Jason turned his bicycle around and pedaled back toward the nearest corner. He peered at the houses in the gathering darkness. They were all strange. Jason choked back a sob. How would he ever get back to his own home? He couldn’t ask anyone for help. He pedaled up and down the streets looking for a familiar sight, but the longer he searched, the more confused he became.
Soon it was dark, and Jason didn’t know what to do. Suddenly there came to his mind a picture of his family kneeling in prayer, and he thought, I’ll ask Heavenly Father to help me!
Jason got off his bike and lowered the kickstand, then knelt on the sidewalk and folded his arms. Dear Father in Heaven, he prayed silently, I’m lost. Please help me. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
Jason opened his eyes, half-expecting to see a familiar face, but no one was there. He could see lights shining through the windows of nearby houses. He thought about his family in his own home and about how much he loved them. Maybe I’ll never see them again. Tears trickled down his cheeks at the thought. Then the words I am a child of God popped into his mind. They were from a Primary song that his mother had taught him.
“You can learn to say the words if you try,” she had said as she signed to him. “Then you can sing it with your voice, your hands, and your heart.”
Jason had tried. It was hard, but he could sing it well enough for his family to recognize it. Now he loved to sing it often, even though he could barely hear the sounds that he made. He knew that there was beautiful music inside him, though, because he had such a happy feeling when he sang.
Maybe, Jason thought, I won’t feel so scared if I sing. He squeezed his eyes shut against his tears and began, “I am a child of God,/ And he has sent me here,/ Has given me an earthly home/ With parents kind and dear. …”
As he sang the last few words, Jason opened his eyes. He could scarcely believe what he saw: His big brother was coming down the street!
“Aaaah!” Jason cried, leaping to his feet. “Aaaah!”
Jason started to run. He didn’t stop until he ran straight into his brother’s open arms. Ray caught him in a big bear hug, swinging him off his feet.
“I’d never have found you if I hadn’t heard you singing that song!” Ray exclaimed. “You’ve sung it so many times at home that when I heard that off-tune hymn coming to me out of the darkness, I knew just who was singing. It led me straight to you!”
Jason couldn’t follow all that Ray was saying, but he knew that he was safe, and he knew that Heavenly Father had answered his prayer.

Photograph posed by model
I grew up in an unstable environment. My biological parents abused and neglected me, and I experienced a lot of difficult challenges. I battled with anxiety, body-image issues, anorexia, and situational depression that held me prisoner for years.
My biological parents had been sealed in the temple, but soon after I got baptized at eight, they started drifting away from the Church. And the further they drifted away from their covenants, the worse our situation became.
At 14, I was the caregiver to my autistic brother and my mother. I was lost and out of control. I hated myself and my situation and believed my life would never change.
But then a miracle happened. My biological mother realized she couldn’t take care of me and called her brother in Singapore to ask if he would adopt me. With packed bags and teary eyes, I boarded a plane to begin a new life—one free from abuse. But adjusting to my adopted family and a new culture was difficult, and I struggled to move forward.
My adoptive parents did everything they could to help me. I saw therapists and doctors. I also started going to church again, but learning about a Heavenly Father who loves me and has a purpose for me was hard, because I didn’t believe it after all I had endured.
I wasn’t happy. I didn’t know how to heal from the past and still felt hopeless about the future.
One day, I was pondering about how short mortality is. I didn’t want to spend my life unhappily. I needed to learn from my trials, apply the gospel principles I had been taught, and invite Christ into my life.
I took a leap of faith and started kneeling and asking Heavenly Father every day for the power to forgive my biological parents, to change my fear into faith, to find healing and happiness, and to recognize love in my life. I went to institute and began studying scriptures and applying gospel truths in my life.
I truly sought the healing power of Jesus Christ and His Atonement. And over time, my life started to change. As I was patient, received therapeutic and medicinal treatment, and filled my life with the Spirit each day, I began to heal: I felt less withdrawn and more like myself. I felt safe. I served others. I loved, forgave, and accepted myself. I built healthy, loving relationships. I began to feel Heavenly Father’s love for me. And for the first time in my life, I felt true joy.
I can’t change my past, but as Doctrine and Covenants 122:7 says, “All these things shall give [me] experience, and shall be for [my] good.” I know now that the Savior sustained me through my struggles. Despite them, I have grown so much because of my desire to change and because I continue to turn to Him.
If you are in a difficult family situation, know that you have a Father in Heaven who knows you and loves you and will open the doors to a bright future. Before being adopted, I told myself that my circumstances would never change, and that I would never get married or have children because I was afraid they would suffer as I did. But I’ve learned that no matter what struggles we have experienced in our families, as we seek Christ, we can build our future homes and eternal families with hope, gospel truths, and love.
As Elder Clark G. Gilbert of the Seventy taught: “We all … start in different places with different life endowments. Some are born with high intercepts, full of opportunity. Others face … circumstances that are challenging. … We then progress along a slope of personal progress. Our future will be determined far less by our starting point and much more by our slope. Jesus Christ sees divine potential no matter where we start. … He will do everything He can to help us turn our slopes toward heaven.”1
Whatever your circumstances, there is hope and healing found in Jesus Christ! He is with you, and He will guide you to peace and joy as you seek Him—always.

The glacier glows from deep within, pulling scarce light from a gray day and turning it an eerie blue. Mostly, the glacier is dirty white. But from parts of the vertical face comes faint, cold blue fire. “Ice blue” is a real color.
At the glacier’s foot a shallow lake of ice melt is dotted with an occasional miniature iceberg. A stream of glacial water tumbles into the lake with a distant, dull rumble. It’s the only sound you hear until—
Splash! “Whoop!” Someone has just jumped into the lake. Or fallen. Or been pulled. Youth of the Juneau Alaska District are holding their annual games on the sandy shore. Relays rage back and forth across a shallow inlet. Put on hip boots, wade-run through thigh-high ice water, take off the boots and hand them to a teammate for the return trip. Splash! Someone else has tried to run too fast. Again, a sharp intake of breath and “whoop!”
Soon, a stout rope is drawn across the same inlet and the teams take sides, muscles straining, heels dug into the sand. Rhythmic chants of “pull … pull … pull” echo across the lake. Inch by inch the losing team is drawn toward the incredibly cold water.
Incredibly, too, some of the youth who didn’t get wet in the relay or tug-of-war give berserk yells and wade into the bone-chilling water for the sheer daring of it. Afterward, when everyone has dried off and is back at the chapel warming up, the kids explain. It’s not insanity, just enthusiasm.
Juneau is Alaska’s capital, beautiful and interesting but a challenging place to live. There are no highways to other major cities. To get to the rest of Alaska—and the rest of the world—you either fly or you load the family car on a ferry boat. Both are expensive, so you try to find most of your fun close to home—like the Mendenhall Glacier just a few minutes from town.
Close to home there’s plenty of cold and snow in winter, lots of clouds and rain the rest of the time—more than 100 inches of precipitation a year. So, the young women just plan their camps by the calendar, not by the weather forecasts. If you let the probability of rain stop you, next thing you know, you could start worrying about the possibility of bears. Instead, you take along rain gear and a few armed priesthood brethren. And you go enjoy camp.
School football and soccer games are rarely canceled for rain. Baseball is often played under conditions that would be a “rain-out” in the lower 48 states. In a climate like this, trees grow tall, roofs grow moss, and these LDS kids have grown an attitude that seems to say, “No matter where you live—live. Jump into life with both feet.”
No, the rope’s not for the weatherman. We’re still on the subject of jumping. Carly Perkins and Shannon Orme are members of the Juneau Jumpers, one of the largest rope jumping teams in the world. “It’s about the only thing we can do that’s indoors and doesn’t cost much,” explains Carly. “And since it’s always raining, it’s something to pass the time.”
But what a way to pass the time! According to Shannon, 10 minutes of rope jumping equals about 20 minutes of jogging. “If we didn’t keep the Word of Wisdom, we really wouldn’t we able to do this,” she adds. Qualifying for the “double unders”—two passes of the rope on each jump—requires doing 200 in a row without a mistake. Then there are the “quadruple unders” … !
Add complicated routines with multiple ropes and jumpers, and you can see that competition rope jumping is as different from the schoolyard variety of rope jumping as the Monte Carlo Grand Prix is from driving school. So who teaches all of this? Sure, there are adult coaches, but it’s the team members themselves who train new candidates for the team and literally teach each other the ropes. You work with another team member to qualify for new routines. “Even freestyle, we have to do it with someone else so they learn it too,” Shannon says. “You learn to get along with pretty much everybody,” adds Carly. There’s no “king-of-the-hill” mentality on this team. You only progress and go on the road trips by being willing to help others reach your own level of accomplishment.
That’s a lot like the attitude you find among the LDS youth of Juneau, Alaska. For example, at the lake and at the chapel afterward was a fellow student who was being friendshipped by some of the LDS kids. Having seen them in action, she announced that she was ready to talk to the missionaries. You know that when she does talk to the missionaries, she’s going to have a big team backing her up and teaching her the ropes. Around here, they don’t just jump into life with both feet. They like to take a friend along.
Sometimes the world can seem like a pretty cold place. But LDS kids in Juneau have learned that if you jump in with both feet—and help someone else do the same—life can be great no matter where you live.

Not only does this service bless the homes from which missionaries come, it blesses lives where missionaries go. One young lady who worked among the Indian people wrote: “The Navajo are a great people. Words can’t express my love for them. …
“The Navajo people accepted me, a white girl, as one of their own. They called me their white daughter. I had a hard time with the language, but I could teach by reading the lessons. I was very fortunate to have Navajo companions who could explain in detail. We could communicate with love. I learned that love is the greatest language to know. This people loved me and I loved them. We spoke with smiles, laughter, and sometimes tears. They were patient with my broken Navajo and helped me when I couldn’t think of a word. I left with a testimony in my heart and a feeling that cannot be described in words. …”
She concludes with, “In December I met a returned missionary. We fell in love and have been married in the temple.”

After Sister Clark had been at BYU for a couple of years, she had an opportunity to move into a great apartment much closer to campus. On her first day in the new apartment, she sat on her bed surrounded by her boxes and received this very strong impression of the Spirit: "you are in the wrong place; you need to go back." She struggled with that thought for a while, but the Spirit was insistent. So, not knowing why but with faith in the Lord, she went back to her old apartment far from campus.
She did not find out why the Lord sent her back until about two years later while out for a walk with me on a beautiful Sunday evening. Sister Clark and I were in the same home evening group. I had invited her to go on a walk with me that evening, and she accepted. As we walked, I told her how I ended up in the apartment where I lived. As she heard that pretty miraculous story, she had a feeling come to her that we were going to get married. The Spirit whispered to her, "This is why the Lord sent you back."