Gospel Story Finder

My husband is profoundly deaf and deeply devoted to the gospel. However, years of struggling to understand weekly Church meetings left him reluctant to attend additional priesthood meetings and broadcasts. While members of our ward were friendly and encouraging, their lack of understanding of the technical assistance he needed in order to participate in meetings often left my husband feeling lonely and frustrated.
We were new to our ward, and it was time for general conference. My husband grudgingly prepared to go to general priesthood meeting, wondering what problems he would encounter as he tried to watch the broadcast. He arrived to find that no one knew how to put closed captions on the large overhead projector, so a television was rolled in and set up in the corner. There was, however, a minor problem. The cord needed to connect the television had inadvertently been used to set up the projector, rendering the television useless. My husband, who is accustomed to these situations, went to the library and started looking for the projector cord. After searching through several boxes and cabinets, he recovered the short cord intended for the projector.
Because the broadcast was about to begin, everyone was apprehensive about disconnecting and adjusting anything. The cord my husband found was too short to reach the television on the rolling cart, so the TV had to be moved to a lower table. He rolled the cart out of the chapel and into a nearby room. He then began to unstrap the television and wondered if anyone would come to help him lift it. At that moment, he felt someone enter the room. It was the bishop. My husband’s heart was lightened as the two of them placed the TV on the table. My husband got the TV working while the bishop grabbed a chair and placed it facing the screen.
My husband thanked him for his help and shook his hand, and the bishop turned and headed for the door. Much to my husband’s surprise, the bishop passed the door and proceeded to where chairs were leaning against a wall. He grabbed one and sat down next to my husband. The two of them sat side by side throughout the session.
Today my husband eagerly attends his meetings. The bishop’s simple act of kindness lifted my husband’s spirits and allowed gratitude to enter his heart. While some problems still arise, he no longer feels alone or unwelcome. My husband’s perspective was changed forever through the inspired actions of one of Christ’s shepherds.

When I was a child, a neighbor brought us food during a celebration. When our family receives such a gift, it is customary in my home for my father to decide when the family eats the food. This time, my father was not home. I desired so much to eat the food that I cried and begged my mother to give me some. My mother didn’t want to disrespect my father’s traditional role, but she also didn’t want me to be unhappy. She cut some of the food and gave me a little to eat.
Later, when my father came home, he was unhappy about what I had done. He invited me into his room and told me he was disappointed that I had not shown contentment for what I already had. He taught me that peace of mind and a good life are only for those who are content with what they have.

My family moved to America from the Philippines when I was 11 years old. At first, I had a hard time fitting in. But once I learned how to speak English, I quickly adopted the popular culture. I loved listening to pop music, trying different hairstyles, and wearing faddish clothing. I did not have a testimony. Instead, I had a rebellious attitude.
My life turned around when I decided to accept the prophet’s challenge to seriously read and study the Book of Mormon. I read the book from cover to cover. It felt good and wonderful, but I still wasn’t sure whether it was true.
Nervously, I tried Moroni’s promise in Moroni 10:4–5. I expected angels to appear, but nothing happened. I thought, “That was it?”
In spite of my disappointment, I continued studying the book. One night I had a dream about the Book of Mormon. When I woke up, I felt a burning in my heart, peace of mind, and assurance. I thought, “This is it. This is my answer.”
After that experience, my confidence soared. I did better in my studies, attended more school activities, and, most importantly, became very active in the Church. I continue to study the Book of Mormon and apply its teachings to my life. The experiences I had while reading the Book of Mormon became anchors to me in my life.

We moved last year from Ellicott City, Maryland, USA, with our family to Harrogate. We are blessed with four children, two of whom are now serving missions. Our daughter, Natalie, started serving in May 2022 as a teaching missionary in the Arizona Gilbert Mission. In February 2023, her brother, Peter, was called to serve a service mission in the England Leeds Mission.
While we have been wonderfully blessed since our daughter started her mission, we have felt a change in our home since Peter was called. We truly felt increased spiritual power in our home as our son began to participate in the service missionary training centre meetings the week prior to being set apart. The Spirit is more accessible, the Christlike attributes that we are seeking to obtain come more easily. I attribute that to the blessing of having a missionary serving from our home. He has been set apart, completed his training, and is beginning to serve in our local community.
We have noticed so many positive and miraculous changes in him, and in our family dynamics already. We look forward to the changes that Elder Rosenquist will yet undergo and experience as he continues his mission.
And in divine serendipity, our son’s service mission leaders, Elder and Sister Conway, are from Gilbert, Arizona. Their daughter Kelsie and her family are living in Gilbert, Arizona, in the ward in which Sister Rosenquist is labouring.

I owe much of my happiness to a man I have never met. He was one of my great-grandparents. He left me a priceless heritage of hope.

His name was Heinrich Eyring. He was born into a wealthy family in Germany, but both of his parents died when he was young. He was left without any money. He felt that his best hope was in going to the United States. He moved to Missouri. There he worked with a man who was a Latter-day Saint. He gave Heinrich a copy of a Church pamphlet. Heinrich read it and studied every word he could find about the Latter-day Saints. He prayed to know if there really were angels that appeared to men, whether there was a living prophet, and whether he had found a true religion. After two months of careful study and prayer, Heinrich was told in a dream that he should be baptized. On March 11, 1855, Heinrich was baptized in a pool of rainwater.

Heinrich left a written history for his descendants. In that history I can feel his love for those of us who would follow. I feel his hope that his descendants might choose to follow him on the path back to our heavenly home. He knew it would not be one choice to make, but many small choices.

Like my ancestor Heinrich, you may be the first in your family to make sacred covenants.

Heinrich was a pioneer in President Eyring’s family. Who are the pioneers in your family? Look at the pictures below. One shows a pioneer family in the early days of the Church. The other shows a pioneer family today. What is the same about both pictures? What is different?

“A Good Sense of Humor” by Chris Crowe in the May 1986 New Era was a good and much-needed topic. While reading it, I recalled times when I was the brunt of jokes and ridicule. But I also remembered times when my careless words really hurt.
One such time I had the opportunity to repent but never did. Now I have even forgotten the name of the person I hurt. Could you help me reach out to her?
The incident occurred in 1966 at a bus stop in Salt Lake City following a state FFA Convention. The Dixie and Hurricane chapters traveled together and cheered for the Hurricane Harvest Queen. She didn’t even place. As she boarded the bus, the losing queen had a formal gown in one hand and a suitcase in the other. She held a spray bottle of hair spray in her mouth. A few of us rowdy boys made fun of her situation. “No wonder she lost the contest!” I jeered. We had wanted her to win and were just having fun.
She cried most of the way home. Though there was an empty seat beside her, I was too fearful to go apologize for my mistake.
The years have flown. Many a time I would have relived that night, would have apologized, would have held my tongue. But that cannot be. I did learn from it, and I don’t point jokes at others anymore.
Jay BeachamIvins, Utah

Mark Halladay, 13, learned a lot about the Christmas spirit by organizing hot meals and Christmas baskets for 70 homebound senior citizens. The meal was prepared by a local hospital, and the baskets were delivered by volunteers Mark recruited. A local florist donated cut flowers for the baskets, and a businessman donated a pen for each. Mark was impressed by the willingness of people to help other people and found that he had twice as many volunteers as he’d anticipated. The people who delivered the baskets stayed and talked with the senior citizens for a while, and all the participants made new friends. Mark is a member of the Meridian Fourth Ward, Meridian Idaho Stake, and is deacons quorum president. The Christmas baskets and meals were part of his Eagle project.

Relief Society sisters in Germany noticed that some Afghan women were using their husbands’ shirts to cover their heads instead of their traditional head coverings, which had been lost or damaged in the madness at the airport. These Relief Society sisters gathered to sew traditional Muslim clothing for these women in need—showing kindness and respect for others, putting aside their difference of beliefs.

“What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”
It was one of those days when the Mia Maids of the St. George (Utah) Second Ward couldn’t come up with an interesting activity that wouldn’t cost anything. Suddenly, inspiration hit. They’d have a recycling fashion show.
They used all sorts of donated items, like large garbage bags, paper towels, balloons, colored crepe paper, ribbon, paper plates, butcher paper, and duct tape, then let their imaginations run wild. They came up with outfits for a princess bride, cheerleader, Miss America, Queen Elizabeth, flapper, prom queen, and Little Red Riding Hood, among others.
Best of all was that this little project helped create a spirit of cooperation, unity, and love among the girls. They realize that it doesn’t necessarily require money to have fun.

One Sunday, nearly a thousand people came to listen to Elder Woodruff speak. The leader of a local church was angry and asked a constable to arrest Elder Woodruff.
Constable: I’ve come to arrest you for preaching illegally to the people.
Wilford Woodruff: I have a license that allows me to preach. Our meeting is about to start, but if you would like to sit here, I’d be happy to talk to you more after the meeting.
As the constable listened, he felt the Spirit. Elder Woodruff then asked if anyone would like to be baptized.
Constable: Mr. Woodruff, I would like to be baptized.
The constable returned to the leader of the local church and told him he would not arrest Elder Woodruff. The leader sent two of his clerks to spy on Elder Woodruff, but they got baptized as well. After that, he did not dare send anyone else!

As a young man, I visited many denominations and was confused because each one taught different interpretations of the scriptures. I did not feel good about the irreverence I found in some of them, so I gave up trying to find a church to attend.
Several years later a friend of mine, Cleiton Lima, was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He did not mention this to me even though we were good friends, but as time went by, I began to see changes in him. On Sundays I usually went to his house in the morning so we could play football, but I could never find him at home. This happened two or three Sundays in a row. Finally Cleiton told me that he could no longer play football on Sundays because he was honoring the Lord’s day. I told him, “This church is making you crazy.”
Then Cleiton invited me to attend church. I gave him an excuse because I was still disenchanted with religion. For 10 months, Cleiton brought over missionaries to teach me, but I always excused myself or told them I was too busy. But he never gave up.
One day in June, he invited me to attend a Church dance. I teased him, “Is there going to be free food and a lot of girls?” Laughing, he said yes!
I have to admit that I was defeated by my stomach. I visited the church and loved it. I was welcomed by everyone, I ate a lot, and I became interested in attending a meeting. When I arrived at church on Sunday, I met many people and heard their testimonies. I was not familiar with the Book of Mormon, but I felt the Spirit of the Lord when various Church members testified, “I know that the Book of Mormon is true, that this is the Church of Jesus Christ, and that Joseph Smith was a prophet called by God.” I had never felt so good. I still did not want to meet with the missionaries, but that testimony meeting touched me.
The next week, Cleiton again invited me to go to church. I couldn’t because I had another obligation. I could see the sadness in his face when I told him I didn’t know if I could go.
However, on Sunday morning I awoke with a desire to go to church. I got up at 6:50, which was difficult for me, and I got ready and waited for Cleiton to come. He was surprised when he saw me dressed and waiting. That Sunday the bishop taught about the priesthood. I felt the Spirit strongly and had the impression that I should take the missionary lessons. By the end of the Young Men meeting, I knew that I was going to be baptized.
When church ended, I told Cleiton, “I want to be baptized!”
He thought I was joking. But then he said, “If I call the elders, will you meet with them?” I answered yes.
I was taught by great elders. When I heard the message of the Restoration, I had an even greater confirmation that I should be baptized. But I wanted to know for myself the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. The elders marked Moroni 10:3–5 in my Book of Mormon and invited me to pray and ask God if it is true.
The next evening I remembered that I had not yet read the Book of Mormon. As I began to read, I felt a very strong spirit. I prayed, and before I was finished, I knew that the Book of Mormon is true. I am grateful to God for having answered my prayer. I was baptized in July 2006.
I later served as a missionary in the Brazil Cuiabá Mission, and my friend Cleiton served in the Brazil Santa Maria Mission. We did what Cleiton did for me: invite people to come unto Christ and help them receive the restored gospel through exercising faith in Jesus Christ, repenting, being baptized, and receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost. This truly is the way to salvation.
Let us always invite our friends and relatives to learn of this gospel, for the Savior invited everyone when He said, “Come unto me” (Matthew 11:28). I know that this is the Church of Jesus Christ and that now is the time to invite everyone to come unto Him.

I was reminded of this lesson again a few years ago when Debi and I were at the University of Utah hospital. She had just embarked on her first of seven surgeries for those next fifteen months and I was in the waiting room, pacing the floor and wondering, "Why is this happening?" I questioned, "Why me? Or Why us?" as I stood there looking out the window gazing across parking lots and Salt Lake City traffic, where everyone was hurrying on their way someplace. I thought, "Nobody even cares that we are here or that life for us is changing." I was scared and I was angry and really I was having my own little pity party. I was all-alone and I had forgotten that this story was not all about me [or us].

I sat in an uncomfortable chair alone and away from everyone else, silently praying and then writing some of my thoughts in my journal. But, I felt so alone. I felt terrible as I pondered Debi's pain and our frustration--this didn't fit with our plans. After a long hour of self-pity, I walked to the window again avoiding contact with anyone that might interrupt my self-centered thoughts.

I was only there at the window for a few minutes before I noticed an ambulance coming into the parking lot with lights and sirens on; simultaneously a helicopter was landing on the emergency helipad. I could tell something traumatic had happened and doctors and nurses were hurrying into and out of the emergency room area on the other side of the hospital. Suddenly my attention turned to the several cars following the ambulance into the parking lot and people hurrying to get inside the hospital with their loved ones. My thoughts went heavenward as I offered a simple, silent prayer for these people who I didn't even know who were facing some unknown emergency. While praying I also thanked Heavenly Father for our wonderful family and for our temple marriage. I thanked him for our wonderful children that He had entrusted to Debi and me.

As my mind shifted back to the waiting room where I was actually standing, and away from my own worries about Debi and myself and our situation, I became aware that there were several families there in the waiting room, and all of them had looks of worry and loneliness and fear. Everyone there seemed to be worried and they were either praying to God or talking amongst themselves trying to reassure each other in one way or another that their family members would be okay.

Then, it happened, I realized how self-absorbed I had been. I remembered the truth: it's not all about me. "Awake, my soul."[13] Nephi's words rang in my mind. Wow,it was an ah ha moment and I was being taught by the spirit. I had been so focused on my own feelings I had completely ignored or been unaware of those immediately around me who were in need.

I turned to the lady closest to me and asked who she was waiting for and why they were in surgery. Her story unfolded over the next forty-five minutes, and I had the wonderful opportunity to share my belief in God, priesthood power, the plan of happiness and the importance of families. That day turned out to be a wonderful experience getting to know all but one group there in the waiting room.

I learned that day that we all have the opportunity to struggle, and the more we learn about other people's lives the more we appreciate the personal trials that we have to face. That day I realized how much the Lord loves all of His children. I even had the privilege of using the priesthood for blessing one of the men in the waiting room. It was a choice experience to feel our Heavenly Father's love for His children as testimonies were shared and love was expressed.

That day proved to be the beginning of many trips to the hospital where I loved meeting people and sharing my love for my Heavenly Father. I had learned there in the waiting room for sure we can find many who need a lift. They are all there worried about their own families and friends. But if we can remember that truly the story is not about us but about how we lift others, wow, the world opens up for all of us just like it did that day for me. And we don't have to go to the waiting room to find them--we can find them in our own apartments, wards, and neighborhoods every single day.

When my son was just six years old, he suffered a physical attack that caused his fragile young mind to “break,” as it were. Prayers and fasting, pleading with the Lord, and years of medical attention and amazing medications have brought him back from a seemingly hopeless place to a happy and healthy life. It was not just prayers that helped him, although those certainly helped. It was a use of the knowledge the medical community has gained that ultimately brought about God’s miraculous gift of healing. We acted instead of just being acted upon.

Through this experience, I learned something about the Atonement that I hadn’t understood before, even after growing up in the Church. I always thought the Atonement was just for sinners. But it goes so much deeper than that. When Christ was suffering in the Garden of Gethsemane, He felt all the pains and sufferings of us all.

Elder Neil L. Andersen said:

Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, through the incalculable gift of His Atonement, not only saves us from death and offers us, through repentance, forgiveness for our sins, but He also stands ready to save us from the sorrows and pains of our wounded souls.

The pain that Christ felt was so great that He bled from every pore. It wasn’t just godly sorrow for wrongdoing—it was the pain of a mother longing for children, the pain of a parent whose child had been harmed, and the pain of a child who suffers trauma. It was all the pain we would ever suffer. And thus the Atonement is for that, too. It can help my suffering heart to heal, it can give me the strength to forgive those who have harmed me or my family, and it can comfort my children through their pains and sorrows. It can comfort you through yours. It is for all of that—not just for sin.

Brad came into this life as innocent as any child, but it didn’t take long for us to realize that he was different. He couldn’t go to nursery without my husband or me with him because he was too aggressive. As he grew older and played with other children, he needed constant supervision. When we sought help, we were told that we just had to be more consistent with him. We did everything we could think of: we researched online, read parenting books, and asked doctors and family members. Finally, when Brad started school, he was diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, or ADHD, as well as a host of other problems.
For the first time we felt we had hope. Now that we had a diagnosis, we could start a treatment plan. We were hopeful that Brad would respond well to a medication that had helped others. Unfortunately, Brad’s behavior on medication was worse than without it, so he had to stop. I felt the last bit of my hope drain away.
One day when Brad was six, I faced one of his many daily tantrums. I wanted to give up. I went to my room for a moment to myself, and tears rolled down my cheeks. I prayed for the strength to be able to face the approaching bedtime routine. How could I keep doing this, day after day? I felt like I was past what I could endure. Did Heavenly Father understand how hard it was? If He truly loved me, I reasoned, He would remove this burden from me and give my son a normal life. Those thoughts and feelings surrounded me as the trial I faced seemed to get worse instead of better.
I thought I understood trials. We were supposed to go through them like a pot being heated in a kiln. We’d go in and out of the fire, and then life would go back to normal until the next round of heating and tempering. But I had been facing this trial for years, and it was not going away. I felt the weight pressing down on me, and the feeling of helplessness brought me to my knees.
I then knew that the place I needed to go for comfort and understanding was the temple. By inspiration, I realized that we do not get to pick what trials we have in this life or how long they last. What we can control is the way we think and act when trials come.
I realized that the reason I was feeling sorry for myself was because I was allowing self-pity to fill my mind. The first thing I decided to do was stop any negative thoughts that crept in, such as “This is unfair,” “I can’t do this,” “Why can’t Brad be normal?” or the worst culprit, “I am such a bad mother.” I worked hard to stop the negative voice in my head, and I saw that my real voice became more patient and loving when I was dealing with all of my children.
I also encouraged positive thinking. I began to think, “You are doing great,” and I would give myself a compliment, such as “You kept your voice low and didn’t yell. Way to go!”
After a particularly hard day, I asked my husband to give me a blessing. During the blessing I was reminded that I am a daughter of God, that He is aware of me and my needs, and that my son is a son of God. Brad was God’s son first, and my husband and I have a partnership with God in Brad’s behalf. I realized that I had not been using all the tools that the partnership provides for me. My husband and I had researched and discovered many resources to help us, but we forgot the most significant one: prayer.
I began to pray daily about how I could help Brad. When he was having an emotional meltdown, I would say a quick prayer for inspiration before approaching him. As I relied on God for my support and for inspiration for my son, I got a glimpse of what I could be and what I could do for him. I strived to follow Alma’s words: “And this is my glory, that perhaps I may be an instrument in the hands of God” (Alma 29:9).
The changes were immediate. I was flooded with ideas and ways to help Brad. I used family home evening as a tool and prayed for ideas about what to teach. I also read the scriptures with more intent and recognized the great parenting advice they contain. I began to be filled with hope and comfort.
As I continued to put into practice the idea that my husband and I are partners with God in parenting our children and using the tools that He has given us, I began to rely on God more and more. I realized that my knowledge of parenting could only go so far, but a loving Heavenly Father, who knows all things and loves my son more than I do, could help me become a better and stronger mother. And though I still sometimes falter, I know where to look for help. I understand now that some trials may not have a time limit on them, but if I keep my eye on eternity, God will help me.
When times were tough, I learned to take time to feel joy in the little moments—the gifts—that are given to us. When my son cannot help but give me a kiss, I am grateful. When I watched my son ride the bus without anyone to sit with, I was blessed to have this scripture come into my mind: “I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up” (D&C 84:88). I knew that Brad was not alone and never will be.
We are an eternal family, and with the help of people who love us and our loving Heavenly Father watching over us, I can appreciate the small gifts given to me daily and feel the joy and happiness that we are meant to have. And with those small blessings and the help of the Lord, I can become who I am meant to be, no matter how long it takes.

Last summer the youth in our ward were challenged to read the entire Book of Mormon. Eventually the summer came to an end, and I finished the Book of Mormon. As I kneeled to pray and asked if the book was true, I remember thinking that this was it—I would finally have the experience that everyone seems to talk about where they are overcome by the Spirit.
The truth is, when I prayed, I didn’t feel that way. At first I was a little upset. Why hadn’t I received such a witness? Was I not worthy? But I soon realized that though many people might feel the Spirit confirming truth to them very strongly when they pray about the Book of Mormon, there are many others who don’t have that same experience. Just because you may not receive an extremely strong confirmation does not mean the Book of Mormon isn’t true or that your testimony is not as strong as someone else’s. It simply means that the Spirit can speak to people in different ways and at different times.
For me, this experience taught me that we don’t always receive answers in the way we expect. I thought I would feel an overpowering spiritual impression after I prayed about the Book of Mormon—but I didn’t. Honestly, I believe I already knew it was true.
Though I may not have felt the Spirit very strongly at that time, I knew I had felt it while reading about Alma’s conversion and about Ammon and his brothers bringing thousands of Lamanites to the gospel, and about Christ teaching the Nephites after His Resurrection. I realized that feeling the Spirit while reading different parts of the Book of Mormon also confirmed to me that the entire book was true.

Finally, may I share with you an email from a good friend and I hope he approves my using it to illustrate this most important imperative we must all learn to have.
Breakfast at McDonald's. (This is a good story and is true.) I am a mother of three (ages 14, 12, 3) and have recently completed my college degree. The last class I had to take was sociology.The teacher was absolutely inspiring with the qualities that I wish every human being had been graced with. Her last project of the term was called, "Smile."The class was asked to go out and smile at three people and document their reactions. I am a very friendly person and always smile at everyone and say hello anyway. So, I thought this would be a piece of cake, literally.Soon after we were assigned the project, my husband, youngest son, and I went out to McDonald's one crisp March morning.We were standing in line, waiting to be served, when all of a sudden everyone around us began to back away, and even my husband did.I did not move an inch... an overwhelming feeling of panic welled up inside of me as I turned to see why they had moved.As I turned around I smelled a horrible "dirty body" smell, and there standing behind me were two poor homeless men.As I looked down at the short gentleman, close to me, he was smiling.His beautiful sky blue eyes were full of God's light as he searched for acceptance.He said "Good day" as he counted the few coins he had been clutching.The second man fumbled with his hands as he stood behind his friend. I realized the second man was mentally challenged and the blue-eyed gentleman was his salvation.I held my tears as I stood there with them.The young lady at the counter asked him what they wanted.He said, "Coffee is all, miss" because that was all they could afford. (If they wanted to sit in the restaurant and warm up, they had to buy something. He just wanted to be warm.)Then I really felt it - the compulsion was so great I almost reached out and embraced the little man with the blue eyes.That is when I noticed all eyes in the restaurant were set on me, judging my every action.I smiled and asked the young lady behind the counter to give me two more breakfast meals on a separate tray.I then walked around the corner to the table that the men had chosen as a resting spot. I put the tray on the table and laid my hand on the blue-eyed gentleman's cold hand.He looked up at me, with tears in his eyes, and said, "Thank you."I leaned over, began to pat his hand and said, "I did not do this for you. God is here working through me to give you hope."I started to cry as I walked away to join my husband and son.We held hands for a moment and at that time, we knew that only because of the grace of God that we had been given were we able to give.That day showed me the pure light of God's sweet love. I returned to college, on the last evening of class, with this story in hand. I turned in "my project" and the instructor read it. Then she looked up at me and said, "Can I share this?" I slowly nodded as she got the attention of the class. She began to read and that is when I knew that we as human beings, all God's children, share this need to heal and be healed.I graduated with one of the biggest lessons I would ever learn.

For my whole life I prayed that my father would become a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Even as a young girl, I knew how many blessings he could receive. Our family could receive the blessings of being sealed for eternity. My family, friends, and I prayed often for him, but he didn’t join the Church. Heavenly Father does not force anyone to make a choice. He can send us answers to our prayers in other ways.

When I was old enough, I received my patriarchal blessing. In the blessing, the patriarch told me the best thing I could do to help my family be together in heaven was to be an example of the gospel of Jesus Christ. That’s what I could do!

My father lived to be 86. Five days after he died, I received a sacred feeling of joy. Heavenly Father let me know through His Spirit that my father wanted to receive the blessings of the gospel of Jesus Christ! I will never forget the day I knelt around the altar in the temple with my sister and brothers to be sealed to my parents. I had started praying for this blessing when I was in Primary, and I received it when I was a grandmother.

Several years ago, I had two late miscarriages. Upon hearing I was miscarrying for a second time, my friend April, who had just given birth to twins earlier that week, showed up on my doorstep with a meal and a warm embrace. She hugged me and cried with me. Words weren’t needed, she was just there. Incidentally, she is the creator and voice of all the Pathway Connect math lessons. I’ll bet she’s rescued a lot of you in some of your darkest days as well.

After the miscarriage, I tried to get back into the swing of things, but a couple of weeks later, I had a breakdown where I couldn’t stop crying for a day or so. My husband, Brent, tried to console me and wanted to fix whatever was wrong. Although I knew there was a logical reason for these losses and I wasn’t consciously grief-stricken, something deep inside of me was broken. Aside from my husband, I could have called a friend, a sibling, or my parents, but I was too proud to reach out for help. I mistakenly felt like I needed to be a pillar of strength in my ward and my family because my husband was the bishop and my parents were preparing to leave for a mission.

In desperation, Brent called my friend Donna, who lived about 40 minutes away. She was a busy mother of seven, but she dropped everything that Saturday afternoon to come and be with me. She held me, cried with me, and brought me some food. In a matter of hours, the sadness lifted.

Heavenly Father loves us and wants us to help one another face the trials of life. My two friends honored their baptismal covenants and succored me just as it reads in Mosiah. They were “willing to bear . . . another’s burdens, that they may be light . . . and [were] willing to mourn with those that mourn . . . and comfort those that stand in need of comfort.”[13] We need each other. We need friends, family, neighbors, and coworkers. We need to minister to one another, not just as a calling, but as disciples of Jesus Christ who are trying to be like Him.

When I arrived on Sunday morning, I was well received by the members. I was impressed with the organization of the Church. I felt peace and joy in my heart during the meetings, and I asked the missionaries to come to my house to teach me. I returned home and told my mother that I had found the right religion.
The missionaries taught me about the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I already knew the story of Joseph Smith, so when they invited me to pray to learn the truth, I told them I had already received an answer and told them about my experience. They were impressed with my testimony and suggested a date, May 15, 2004, for my baptism. In the meantime, my friend Julyette was also baptized. My baptism was the greatest joy of my life, and my friend and I are very happy we found the true Church of Jesus Christ.

The choppy waters of the North Sea gently rocked the Speedwell anchored at Delfshaven, Holland. Crowding the ship’s deck were the passengers, along with their families and friends who had come to say good-bye.
Roger gathered his little sister Ellen into his arms. “Be happy that you are going to America,” he said. Ellen wrapped her arms around his neck, and her tears wet his cheek. Releasing herself, she ran to her parents, Kathrine and Edward Howard.
“Oh, Papa! Mama!” she exclaimed. “I don’t want to go away and leave my sister and brother behind.”
“Don’t worry, little sister,” Sarah said, comforting her. “Roger and I will come to America before long. Just wait and see. And remember, Ellen, although you’re almost the littlest Pilgrim on board, you must be brave, because you’re going to a brave new world.”
“Sarah, why are Pilgrims so poor?” Ellen asked. “If we were rich enough, our whole family could go to America. Then I wouldn’t feel so awful.”
“Come on, Ellen, dry your tears. I’ll tell you what—let’s play one more game of pretend before you go. Let’s pretend that I have lots of bags of gold,” suggested Sarah.
Ellen liked to play pretend with Sarah. “What are you going to do with lots of bags of gold?” she asked.
“I’m going to buy a whole fleet of ships. I’ll tell all the Pilgrims to get aboard, and I’ll take them across the ocean where they can never be persecuted again.” Sarah’s smile broadened. “Better still, let’s pretend that I’m a genie. I’ll wrap a magic web around King James, and I’ll say, ‘Aye, Your Majesty, you’re going to be banished to a faraway island where you can never rant and rave and thunder at people or throw them into prison or hang them or clap them into the stocks again. Never again will you tell people how to worship, for they will belong to any church they like.’ And then I’ll sit and watch while he flies into a rage. His beard will bristle, and his face will turn red. Then he’ll spin off into the air to an island of peacocks and apes.”
As Ellen giggled, Sarah hugged her and said, “See, it’s better to laugh than to cry.”