Gospel Story Finder

My mind raced again that day in youth conference to a high school friend, Paul. All he ever wanted to be was a missionary. When he got his call to the Nevada Las Vegas Mission, he was as happy as anyone I had ever known. A few months into that mission, he and his companion were chased on their bikes by a vicious German shepherd dog. In an effort to confuse the dog they split up, and while looking back at the animal, Paul rode his ten-speed into a huge hole in the street. The city had dug it in an effort to repair a leaking water pipe. Paul was badly injured and spent many months recovering in the hospital.

All he could think of during his recuperation was the missed opportunity to be a missionary. It depressed and upset him. His grandfather stopped by one night to visit and they talked. Grandpa listened to Paul’s concerns and desires.

“Paul,” his grandfather counseled, “you can be a missionary every minute of every day of the rest of your life. You can be whatever you want, but as you choose, decide to be like the Savior.” That night Paul made peace with himself.

My friend is happily married these days and raising a nice family. He is striving to become like Christ.

It was never easy for any of them. Bob has worked hard in his service as a stake president. Paul has worked diligently to be a good young father. Mom has dealt with many crises in her life. They all have tried to face their obstacles in a Christlike way. Pain, hurt, and dread have been a part of their lives. It was part of Christ’s life, too!

Bob doesn’t fly jets anymore. He is now serving as a mission president. Paul is now a stake missionary. Mom has never danced professionally, though she has used her musical talents on numerous occasions. She is now serving a full-time mission with her husband. Each has lived a good and faithful life.

Max got ready to play superhero. He put on his red T-shirt. He put on his superhero cape. Then he went to his little sister’s room.
“Come on, Mia,” said Max. “Let’s go save the day!”
Max and Mia went into the living room. They saw a basket full of clothes.
“Will you help me?” asked Mom.
“OK,” Max said. “Then we can go save the day.”
Max and Mia helped Mom fold all the clothes and put them away.
Then Max saw some trash on the floor. “Let’s pick up all the trash,” said Max. “Then we can go save the day.”
Max and Mia raced around the house. They threw away all the trash they could find.
They saw Mom sweeping the kitchen floor. “We can help you,” Max said.
Mia held the dustpan while Max swept the floor.
“Now let’s go save the day,” Max said.
Mom looked around at the clean house. Then she hugged Max and Mia. “I think you already did!”

One year ago, to earn money to prepare to go on a mission, I joined a Chinese folk dance group going to Japan. I was not allowed to leave the group to go to church because it was such a long way to go. Fortunately though, two missionaries, Elder Porter and Elder Anderson, came to visit me and brought me Church magazines to read. They had to travel a long way, but they knew how much I needed contact with the Church. The Church magazines really helped me while I was unable to attend church.
For six months now I have been a full-time missionary preaching the gospel to my own people in the Taiwan Taipei Mission. I really appreciate the Church magazines and the two dedicated missionaries who brought them to me and encouraged me to go on a mission.
Victoria Jang Lien RongTaiwan Taipei Mission

“Hmmph!” Kate said, thumping her purple backpack down hard on the kitchen table. Everything rattled.
Her big sister, Emma, picked up her glass of milk to keep it from spilling. “What’s wrong?” she asked, closing her math textbook.
Kate collapsed in a chair and buried her head in her arms. “At school today Maya got the ‘Being Good’ award, and I didn’t. And I was working just as hard as she was!” Kate squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists, remembering that awful sinking feeling when Mrs. Jenkins had called Maya’s name instead of hers. “Maya gets to show her parents that award certificate, but I don’t have anything to show Mom and Dad!”
“I’m sorry,” Emma began to say.
“And we went to the library today,” Kate raced on, “and Emily got the ladybug book I wanted! And at recess, I found a cool heart-shaped rock, but Michael said it was his and took it home! I never get anything good!”
“I bet that’s not true,” said Emma, patting Kate on the shoulder. “Let’s look in your backpack.”
Kate heard Emma slide the backpack across the table and unzip it. “There’s nothing special in there,” Kate mumbled with her head in her arms.
Emma gasped. “Oh, Kate! Look at this!”
Kate looked up.
Emma was holding the worksheets Kate had done in school that day. “You got 100 percent on your math paper.” Emma grinned and tapped her math book. “Maybe I should be asking you for help on my homework!”
Kate smiled just the tiniest bit.
Emma pulled another paper out of Kate’s backpack. “And this tree you made in art class is gorgeous. I bet you worked really hard on it, right?”
Kate sat up, remembering how carefully she had cut and glued each piece of the tree. “Right,” she said quietly.
“And look at this!” Emma said, pulling out a library book. “You got a book about a mommy pig and all her babies! You love pigs!”
I do like pigs, Kate thought. I like them even more than ladybugs. She smiled.
Emma reached way down into Kate’s bag. “Wow!” she said, carefully lifting out two pinecones that had grown together. “I’ve never seen anything like this!”
Kate bounced in her chair. “I found it under a tree after school!” she said. “I want to put it on the science table in my classroom.”
“I bet your class will love it,” Emma said. “Come on, let’s wrap it up and put it back in your bag so you won’t forget it.”
Kate and Emma found some brown paper to wrap the pinecones in.
“This will be a cool way to start the day tomorrow,” Emma said, holding the wrapped pinecones so Kate could tape the paper down.
Kate grinned and hugged her big sister. I’ve had a pretty good day after all, she thought. It just depends on how I look at it!

She also enjoys going to Young Women camp. “When I’m at Young Women camp, everyone is around me and I can feel the Spirit. It reminds me of when I was baptized.”

When Caroline was at Young Women camp, she bore testimony of the fact that she is a daughter of God, that He has a purpose for her in this life, and that her purpose is to bring joy and love to others. “A lot of people told me how much they loved my testimony.”

One special thing about this particular testimony was that everyone could clearly hear her and understand what she was saying. This made Caroline happy since that is not always the case. Caroline has Down syndrome, and she says it’s common for people to have a hard time understanding everything a person with Down syndrome says.

The Spirit was strong as she bore her testimony, and afterward many people said that hearing Caroline’s testimony was one of the most sacred experiences of their lives. She knew the Spirit clearly confirmed the truth of what she was saying.

We’ve decided Georg can’t play with us anymore,” Johnny said as he stood up straight.
“Why not?” David asked.
“Come on, you know!” Johnny answered.
“No, I don’t. Georg might be different from us, but that’s no reason to keep him from playing,” David defended.
“Different? Georg is more than different. He’s stupid.”
“He can’t understand, but he’s not stupid!” David exclaimed.
“If you ask me, not understanding is what stupid is,” one of the other boys joined in.
Eleven-year-old David looked helplessly at his cousin. Georg’s innocent face was one big smile as he watched David, who wanted to run and hide and never have to look at that smile again. But that was impossible.
Georg’s parents had died, and Georg had come all the way from his home in Denmark to live with David. David looked again at Johnny and his other friends. Their faces glared from a circle around him, waiting for an answer.
“All right, I’ll take Georg home,” David sighed.
Angry with himself for not knowing what to do, and angry with Georg, David took hold of his cousin’s arm and started toward home.
“No, David,” Georg said as he stood still. “Ball.”
“Georg, you don’t understand,” David said, feeling very helpless. “The guys won’t let you play with them anymore.”
Georg’s smile faded and his eyebrows pushed together very puzzled. Then just as suddenly he smiled again, “Yah, Davy.”
“Georg, they don’t …” David started to explain, and then he realized that Georg wouldn’t understand anyway. “Oh, never mind. Come on!”
David walked a little faster, thinking hard about what had happened. Why did Georg have to come live with me? Why don’t I have an ordinary cousin like everyone else? One who can speak English!
Soon they were home. Georg went to play in the family room and David went to his room and stretched out on his bed to think some more.
“Are you sick?” Mother asked as she came into David’s room to put away some clothes.
“No,” David answered. “I’m just thinking about something.”
“You certainly must be thinking hard. Can I help you?” Mother asked as she sat on the bed.
“I don’t know.” David stared at the ceiling. “Mom, why is Georg the way he is?”
Mother looked surprised, “What do you mean?”
“You know. He’s—well, he’s different,” David replied.
“How do you mean different? He’s the same size as you. As a matter of fact, he’s wearing your clothes. Georg likes the same things you do—chocolate bars and pancakes. And he gets happy or sad over the same things you do.”
“But, Mom, he’s …” David stopped, not sure of how to say what he meant.
“Did something happen today?” Mother asked.
“Yes, the guys wouldn’t let Georg play because they said he isn’t smart enough.”
“Georg is very smart. He doesn’t speak the same language we do, but he’s learning fast. Georg has other traits that make him very special, though, and you don’t need to speak the same language to understand those.”
David looked puzzled. “But my friends don’t want Georg around, and I don’t blame them. He just doesn’t understand when we try to tell him how to do something. What am I supposed to do?”
“I can’t tell you,” Mother advised. “That is something you have to decide for yourself.”
Mother smiled as she stood up. “There are two things you should remember, though. First, Georg loves you very much. Second, Georg may not be able to understand yet, but he is a child of God just like you and your other friends, and Heavenly Father loves him just as He loves you.”
Suddenly Georg ran into the room. “Come, Davy!” he cried breathlessly.
Mother winked at David as she left the room.
“Come, Davy,” Georg urged.
“Oh, all right,” David said, not really wanting to go. “I’ll come.”
Georg took hold of David’s arm as he guided him to the couch. Then he opened a book and started to read. “Vay,” he sounded out a word carefully, smiling that happy smile David knew so well.
“Vay?” David repeated.
“Vay.” Georg’s smile grew bigger and bigger.
David looked at the book. “We! The word is we.”
Georg looked disappointed, but then he smiled again. “Vee,” he said.
David shook his head back and forth. “No, we,” he said as he turned away from his cousin and went back to his room.
Why? Why? Why? he kept thinking as he flopped on the bed. If Georg could only understand, we could have so much fun together!
David had been on his bed only a moment when he heard a soft knock at the door. The door opened slowly, and Georg’s blue eyes peered cautiously around the door.
“Davy?” he asked softly.
David didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at Georg, who walked over to the bed and sat down. Georg spoke slowly, but it was no use. David couldn’t understand. The words just didn’t mean anything to him.
David looked at Georg. He doesn’t understand what I say, but I don’t understand him either. For the first time David began to wonder what Georg must think of him. Maybe Georg thinks I’m stupid because I don’t understand him.
David looked at Georg again. He was still talking as if he were desperately trying to explain something. All at once David knew exactly what Georg was trying to say! He wanted to be friends. He was telling David how much he liked him. David didn’t need to understand Danish, for he could see it in Georg’s face.
Georg had finished talking now, and he sat waiting for an answer. David felt ashamed. Then he smiled and Georg smiled back. Both boys understood without words!
“Dinner is ready,” Mother called.
David motioned to Georg, and they both hurried from the room.
As David passed his mother in the hall, he stopped. “I was wrong, Mom. It isn’t Georg who doesn’t understand—it’s me. And, you know, Georg may not understand English, but he sure understands friendship. And he’s teaching me. Georg really is a special friend.”
Mother smiled. “You know, you’re pretty special yourself,” she replied.
Georg was already at the table. His face was all aglow with his special smile that beamed, “Hi, friend!”
“You know, Mom,” David chuckled, “maybe Georg could teach me Danish!”

About three years ago my son, Mark, was diagnosed with cancer. Surgeons operated on him, but the cancer continued to spread. The entire family prayed and fasted for him during those long months.
I had read in the scriptures and in various conference talks how important and real the power of faith is. I decided to fast and pray, feeling that my faith was strong enough that a miracle would occur. My son would be made well, or his cancer would go into remission. I always closed my fervent prayers with “Thy will be done.”
I read every talk on faith I could find given during past general conferences or appearing in other materials published by the Church. I found talks by President Russell M. Nelson especially comforting.
Our son died on June 28, 2021. We were all devastated and heartbroken. I felt that my faith had not been strong enough after all.
One day I looked on the back cover of a general conference issue of the Liahona and saw a photo of President Nelson standing at the pulpit. Under the photo was a paragraph taken from one of his talks. He said it takes faith to join the Church, follow the prophets, serve a mission, live the law of chastity, and teach the gospel. “It takes faith to plead for the life of a loved one and even more faith,” he added, “to accept a disappointing answer.”1
I read that sentence at least three times before I realized it was meant for me. A calm feeling came over me. I knew that our prayers for my son had not been in vain. My faith was strong in a way the Lord knew and had accepted.
Our family has experienced our share of loss, including the passing of my husband and three grandsons. My faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ tells me my deceased son is with my husband and grandsons. That knowledge brings me peace. Despite our family’s adversity, we still love the Lord and His gospel, and our testimonies have grown. I testify that President Nelson is a prophet and that the counsel he gives comes from the Lord.

When one of Brother Kim’s former students confided that she was severely depressed and considering suicide, he told her:
“Dear sister, I know of a gospel—a wonderful gospel—capable of giving you new hope, new life. If you study it and pray to God, I promise you these things: health, happiness, joy and a desire to help others find those things, too.”
She and her daughter were among the first four baptisms in Korea, at Songdo Beach in Pusan on 3 August 1952. The other two new members were Brother Kim’s son Tai Whan and daughter Young Sook.

My friend Jorge reached across the table, offering me a sip from his glass of champagne. I was surprised by his offer. He knew I was a Latter-day Saint and drinking alcohol was against my beliefs. I politely shook my head, indicating that this time, like all previous times, I would pass.
He brought his hand to his forehead and exclaimed, “¡Pero es nuestra graduación!” (But it’s graduation night!)
Yes, it was graduation night. And in Ecuador, this was our night to celebrate. The evening had begun with a formal dinner for our entire families. A bottle of champagne had been placed in the center of each table, and well-mannered waiters had served an excellent meal. After dinner, those of us who had just graduated danced a waltz with our father or mother.
Eventually all the parents left, and only the graduates and our friends remained. It was around midnight when Jorge approached me and offered me some of his drink. Jorge felt that just this once wouldn’t do me any harm, especially considering the event was a once-in-a-lifetime occasion and everyone was expected to have a drink.
I simply replied, “I know it’s graduation night. That doesn’t matter.”
All through high school, I had been invited to drink and smoke, but I had always refused, explaining that my religion taught me drinking and smoking were harmful. My friends usually did not persist after the explanation, but I never knew how they really felt about my turning them down.
To my surprise, Jorge smiled, extended his right hand, and shook mine. All he said was “I really admire this about you,” and he walked away.
Later, while reflecting on what happened that night, I remembered the counsel President Gordon B. Hinckley has given us to “stand for something” (see “True to the Faith,” Liahona, Sept. 1996, 4). To Jorge and my other friends, I had stood for something. I realized that often we may think our efforts to do the right thing make us unpopular. While that may be true in some instances, for the most part, people take note and see Latter-day Saints as people who stand for something worthy of admiration.

When we got back to our apartment, we found a package of food that Mrs. Morales had made for us. A note on it thanked us for helping Mr. Morales get a new job.
We didn’t really do much, though. Do you remember my writing about Frank Cooper, the man who went to the Hill Cumorah Pageant with us? Well, we happened to tell him about the Morales family, and he took them some food. He was impressed by Mr. Morales and offered him a job. That’s the kind of great guy Mr. Cooper is. Elder Butler and I have had some meaningful discussions and spiritual experiences with him. I’ll cherish his friendship all my life.

When I was a young missionary, I remember when a marvelous missionary that I had come to admire received some devastating news. His mother and his younger brother had passed away in a tragic accident. The mission president offered this elder the option to return home for the funeral. However, after speaking with his father on the phone, this missionary decided to stay and finish his mission.
A short time later, when we were serving in the same zone, my companion and I received an emergency call; some thieves had stolen the bicycle belonging to this same missionary and had injured him with a knife. He and his companion had to walk to the nearest hospital, where my companion and I met up with them. On the way to the hospital, I was grieving for this missionary. I imagined that his spirits would be low and that surely, after this traumatic experience, he would now want to return home.
However, when we arrived at the hospital, I saw this missionary lying in his bed, waiting to be taken into surgery—and he was smiling. I thought, “How could he be smiling at a time like this?” While he was recuperating in the hospital, he enthusiastically handed out pamphlets and copies of the Book of Mormon to the doctors, nurses, and other patients. Even with these trials, he did not want to go home. Rather, he served until the last day of his mission with faith, energy, strength, and enthusiasm.

Imagine that your family is moving. To Tonga. Your dad has sold his thriving dental practice. Your family has sold your new home and most of the furniture and will live solely on the proceeds from the sales, without any additional income, for at least six months, while you all help your dad in a dental clinic.
Sound incredible? For Rebecca and David Downey, it was their family’s answer to the question, “How do you move a mountain?” The question came from younger brother Brenton, who followed up with an even greater challenge, “Dad, will you teach me how to move a mountain?” The answer, after much prayer, ultimately led the entire Downey family, along with cousin Nattalie Connell, to a life-changing service project in Nuku‘alofa, Tonga. They may not have moved any mountains, but they moved dozens of suitcases, thousands of toothbrushes, and many, many hearts.
Deseret International, a nonprofit organization, sponsored Brother Downey’s dental service and arranged for him to work in a Church-built clinic and in various other locations in Tonga. Brother Downey purchased some equipment and supplies using his own funds. And thanks to an Eagle Scout project organized by Jonathan Whitworth, a friend of the Downeys, Colorado dentists donated the additional supplies Brother Downey needed. The family arranged to live in a small house near the clinic.
Rebecca (13), David (15), and Nattalie (13) had to adjust to a new language, climate, and culture. At first they missed things from home like snow skiing, nearby grocery stores, and modern conveniences. They particularly missed their friends and family. But the warm welcome they received from the students at Church-owned Liahona Middle and High Schools helped ease their adjustment. Soon they were enjoying their new environment—snorkeling in the ocean, eating bananas and coconuts from their own trees, and taking walks to the nearby temple.
Whenever possible, the teens, along with younger siblings Brenton (7), Jacob (5), and Brianna (11), assisted Brother Downey in the clinic. In the first four months alone, the teens helped him attend to thousands of patients and give away more than 14,000 toothbrushes. The toothbrushes were the first that many recipients had ever owned. Under Brother Downey’s direction, patients received nearly half a million dollars’ worth of fillings, extractions, cleanings, root canals, and other dental work. And the teens helped Brother Downey train volunteers and local nurses to ensure that dental care continued after the family’s return to the United States.
When the Downeys weren’t teaching the people of Tonga how to brush and floss, they were interacting with them in other ways. Nearly every night included a service-oriented activity—from cleaning up roadsides and beaches to singing to children in the hospital. David says he particularly enjoyed Tuesday nights, when the Downeys would have another family over for pizza. “They don’t have pizza in Tonga very often, so it’s a great treat. It’s also a great time to get to know people one on one,” he says.
Because of their service in Tonga, Rebecca, David, and Nattalie had many opportunities to share the gospel. Even before the Downeys left Colorado, people became interested in their journey and, then, the Church. “Our neighbors asked for a Book of Mormon and started to read it. Friends started to take the missionary discussions and asked if they could keep writing their questions about the Church to us by e-mail,” says David.
Rebecca and Nattalie say their own testimonies grew from the experience, as well. Rebecca adds that serving in Tonga helped her realize what was truly of worth. “I have become more humble. The people there were a great example to me. I realize that people are more important than things.” To illustrate, she recounts her family taking some of their used clothing to a family devastated by a typhoon. In gratitude, the Tongan family gave the Downeys a bowl of peanuts that they had salvaged from what was left of their crop after the storm. “That represented about a month’s worth of income for them,” notes Rebecca. “We gave them our leftovers, and they gave us everything they had.”
Now back home in Colorado, the teens are readjusting to a land-locked existence and missing their friends in Tonga. But thanks to their year abroad, they think they might know what it takes to move a mountain: faith, love, and an unquenchable desire to serve. That, and a whole lot of toothbrushes.

Illustration by Allen Garns
My husband often has to work on Sundays, leaving me in charge of taking our four sons to church alone. One particular Sunday during sacrament meeting, my two toddlers were at odds with each other. If I got one of the boys interested in a book, his brother wanted it. I tried snacks, toys, and coloring, but nothing worked. I was overwhelmed with my boys, who just couldn’t seem to sit quietly for one hour.
I pulled a small toy out of my bag and handed it to my one-year-old. Immediately a scream came from my three-year-old, Tyson, as he pounced on his younger brother, trying to retrieve the toy. I was humiliated as I carried two screaming, fighting little boys out into the foyer.
My face was immediately wet with hot tears. Why did this have to be so hard? I was doing what Heavenly Father wanted me to do by bringing my family to church, right? But I couldn’t do it anymore. It was exhausting and embarrassing to fight my boys through sacrament meeting alone every week. I didn’t ever want to come back.
I sat with these thoughts for only about 15 seconds, and then a sister who I barely knew came out into the foyer after me. Her name was Sister Beus. She usually sat alone, as her husband served in the bishopric and her children were grown. She said, “You’re always here alone! I can see that you’re trying so hard. Could Tyson sit with me?” I couldn’t even think of a response! I just nodded as she took him by the hand and led him, now calm and happy, back into the chapel.
I wiped away my tears, picked up my baby, and humbly walked back into the chapel to enjoy the rest of the meeting in peace.
The next Sunday as we walked into sacrament meeting, Tyson searched for his new friend. At night he would pray, “Thank you, Heavenly Father, for Sister Beus. I love her so much!”
It’s been over three years, and Tyson still often searches the chapel for Sister Beus. Last year she was called to be Tyson’s Primary teacher. He was the happiest little boy alive.
I am so grateful for Sister Beus and her willingness to love and serve others. I know that we can bless the lives of others when we serve as the Savior did.

I have witnessed this happiness in the lives of many members of the Church. Several weeks ago I had the assignment to preside over a stake conference in Cali, Colombia. I met a very special young man there who is a member of the Church and can well illustrate the meaning of true happiness.
His name is Fabián. His family belongs to the Church, and he learned of the plan of happiness when he was just a little boy. In 1984, when he was three years old, Fabián and his family lived in a house close to a large and busy avenue. That avenue was a route for many city bus lines.
One day, seeing the gate open, little Fabián tried to cross the avenue and got hit by a bus. Thanks to Heavenly Father’s goodness, Fabián survived the accident. His parents took him to three different hospitals that indicated they could not treat him. They continued looking for help, and upon finding the proper medical assistance, they learned the prognosis was not very good. After undergoing multiple surgeries, the doctors informed the family that the damage to his feet and legs was so extensive that to save him, they had to amputate his right leg.
Little Fabián started a different life then, without one of his legs. He slowly learned to control his body balance and to walk with the help of crutches. He went to school and had the support of his teachers and friends. Some people used to mock him, but he soon learned not to care about the jokes they played on him.
He wanted to participate in all physical activities, and did so frequently. Even though winning was very hard to come by, he was always brave and ready to participate.
Fabián currently serves as a counselor in the Young Men organization of his stake. He attends institute of religion classes and is active in the student body organization. He plays basketball and soccer. He also plays Ping-Pong with his friends from the institute. He rides a bike and does everything a young man can do. He works as a volunteer teaching English at a foundation that cares for poor children.
Fabián wants to serve his fellowmen and God with all his strength. He has a smiling face and is always there to help someone in need. Fabián is truly a happy young man. With an overwhelming strength which comes from his faith and trust in God, Fabián is a great example to the citizens of his hometown.
His happiness comes from striving to live worthily every day and to obey God’s commandments.

I remember when I was assigned to give my first talk in church. I was given the liberty to choose my subject. I’ve always liked birds, so I thought of the Seagull Monument. In preparation, I went to Temple Square and looked at the monument. First I was attracted to all the coins in the water surrounding the monument. I wondered how they would be retrieved and who would retrieve them. I shall not confess any thought of taking them. Then I looked upward at the seagulls atop that monument. I tried in my boyish mind to imagine what it would be like to be a pioneer watching the first year’s growth of precious grain being devoured by crickets and then seeing those seagulls, with their lofty wings, descending upon the fields and eating the crickets. I loved the account. I sat down with a pencil in hand and wrote out a two-and-one-half-minute talk. I’ve never forgotten the seagulls. I’ve never forgotten the crickets. I’ve never forgotten my knees knocking together as I gave that talk. I’ve never forgotten the experience of letting some of my innermost feelings be expressed verbally at the pulpit. I would urge that we give the Aaronic Priesthood an opportunity to think, to reason, and to serve.

(2) At a nursing home in our valley, two young men prepared the sacrament. While doing so, an elderly patient in a wheelchair spoke aloud the words, “I’m cold.” Without a moment’s hesitation, one of the young men walked over to her, removed his own jacket, placed it about the patient’s shoulders, gave her a loving pat on the arm, and then returned to the sacrament table. The sacred emblems were then blessed and passed to the assembled patients.
Following the meeting, I said to the young man, “What you did here today I shall long remember.”
He replied, “I worried that without my jacket I would not be properly dressed to bless the sacrament.”
I responded, “Never was one more properly dressed for such an occasion than were you.”
I know not his name. He remains anonymous.

Growing up, I was always inclined to perfectionism. So when I received my patriarchal blessing, one admonition in particular seemed natural: to complete the tasks I was given “to the best of [my] ability, to perfection.” Only later would I start to realize how little I understood perfection—or the role of grace.
In 1998 I returned home early from a mission due to health problems. I felt a tremendous amount of guilt because I felt I had not completed my mission “to perfection.” Added to this sense of failure was uncertainty about my illness. So far, doctors had been unable to diagnose it.
In spite of my health challenges, I knew I needed to move forward, so I enrolled in a university to continue my education. After only two quarters, however, I returned home again, in pain, for urgent surgery. It was at this point that doctors discovered I had an autoimmune disease.
While I was recovering from surgery, I began working part-time at the chocolate store where I had been employed as a teenager. Even though I was doing what I could, I didn’t feel that I was pursuing anything worthwhile, much less completing it “to perfection.” I began to compare myself to others, especially to my friends who were completing their college degrees, serving missions, or starting families. I felt left behind.
Then I met Stephanie. She came into the candy store one day wearing a black scarf around her head. As I pointed out to her my favorite chocolate, I felt impressed to inquire about her situation. She smiled, removed her scarf, and, pointing to her bald head, told me she was going through chemotherapy. That exchange was the start of a special and candid friendship.
Stephanie came by the store regularly to enjoy a treat and talk about life. I learned that she was a member of the Church and that she had struggled spiritually as well as physically. She told me about some rebellious choices she had made and about her efforts to repent. She was working toward being sealed to her husband in the temple.
One day I shared some of my own challenges. I confided in her how discouraged I was by my circumstances. “I am scooping the same ice cream I scooped in high school,” I explained. “I didn’t complete my mission or college, and I don’t know what to do now.”
Stephanie responded, “Why do you have to finish the race of life in a set time? Why not just run the race?”
For the first time, I realized that the efforts I was making were my best, and my best was enough. The Savior loved me, and His grace, through His Atonement, was sufficient for me, for my deficiencies. Although I felt I had been looking to Him all along, until Stephanie shared her insight with me, I had somehow missed an important lesson about His role in my life.
Ether 12:27 says, “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.” As I have been able to humble myself and have faith in the Lord, I have seen over and over again that He does indeed make weak things become strong. My increased testimony of this truth has helped me face my challenges with greater faith and hope.
A few months after that conversation, I left my hometown to start a new job and lost contact with my friend. One day my mom called to tell me that she had seen Stephanie’s obituary in the newspaper. I came home to attend her funeral and learned she had been sealed to her husband just three weeks before her death.
My heart sighed with gratitude for having had Stephanie in my life and for what she taught me about running a perfect race. I don’t always need to sprint. Occasionally, it will be all I can do to simply face the finish line. Doing our best to move forward—no matter what speed “our best” is—is OK. Our efforts can be made perfect because the Lord’s grace is sufficient for us all (see Moroni 10:32).

I remember how my father impressed the seriousness of unchastity upon my mind. He and I were standing in the railroad station in Rexburg, Idaho, in the early morning of November 12, 1920. We heard the train whistle and knew that in three minutes I would be on my way to Australia to fill a mission. In that short interval my father said to me, among other things, “My son, you are going a long way from home. But your mother and I, your brother and sisters, will be with you constantly in our thoughts and prayers, we shall rejoice with you in your successes, and we shall sorrow with you in your disappointments. When you are released and return, we shall be glad to greet you and welcome you back into the family circle. But remember this, my son, we would rather come to this station and take your body off the train in a casket than to have you come home unclean, having lost your virtue.”

I pondered that statement at the time. I did not then have the full understanding of it that my father had, but I have never forgotten it.

My first experience as a missionary came while in high school. I had met a girl that I liked very much. She got to know me and my family very well and had no choice but to learn about the Church. I remember trying to teach her about the Book of Mormon and the Prophet Joseph Smith's First Vision. It was the first time in my life that I ever really thought about how cool is would be to help someone become a member of the Church. She started to attend Church regularly and soon took the missionary lessons. I was fortunate enough to baptize her a few months later and then I went off to Utah for school and Canada for two years as a missionary. We got married soon after I returned from my mission. The gospel has greatly blessed our lives. My wife's parents were converted to the Church only a couple of years ago. My first missionary experience and subsequent missionary service has laid the groundwork in my life for the tremendous task that is ours to share the gospel message and help our friends, family members, and other acquaintances to be taught by the full-time missionaries. Whenever I attend baptisms or attend the temple with new patrons, I naturally get a strong feeling that I want to share the gospel more with others. Great joy comes into our lives as we share his gospel.

“I hated being in the hospital, and I felt like I was in prison,” says Diane. For one month of the five she was in the hospital, she was in traction and couldn’t move at all except when the nurses came in and turned her a few centimeters every two hours. Diane had no idea she’d be in the hospital for so long. “In fact, when I was first injured I thought for sure that in a month I’d be back on the tour. I thought, ‘If I have enough faith and believe in God and in myself, I’ll be okay.’ And I just knew it.”

Recovery wasn’t quite so easy though, and things seemed to get worse. “I was a horrible patient,” says Diane. “In the hospital I was really miserable because I was so restless. I was really impatient with people.” Finally Diane came to a turning point.

“One day I was in the depths of despair. I just felt like I couldn’t bear it anymore,” Diane says. She asked for a priesthood blessing. She knew the power to heal her was present, “but I only wanted that to happen if it was Heavenly Father’s will. I had this blessing and I felt the greatest sense of peace. It was like I knew that no matter what happened it would be okay. If I didn’t walk away from the hospital there would be a reason for it. I knew that I had always tried my best to live the gospel and do what I was supposed to do, so if anybody was worthy to have that blessing, I was. But from that point on I was a different person. I was totally comforted.”