Gospel Story Finder

One morning as I finished reading from and pondering the Book of Mormon, I realized that I would again finish it by the end of the year. This realization brought back the memory of my brother, whom I cared for in my home during his final weeks with terminal cancer in 2005.
Oliver was determined to fulfill a promise to himself to follow the counsel of President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) and read the Book of Mormon by the end of the year.1 But by that fall, Oliver still had many pages to go. Eventually he became so weak that he could no longer read to himself.
Determined to keep his commitment, Oliver asked me if I would read the Book of Mormon to him. I was much further along in my own reading, but I was glad to begin where he had left off.
By reading to Oliver every day, I was able to help him reach his goal to finish the book by year’s end, just days before he died. By that time he could hardly speak audibly, but his mind was clear and active. With much effort, he often expressed his appreciation to me for the gift I had given him, saying he could now die in peace because he had fulfilled his promise.
I had read the Book of Mormon many times before, but I had never felt its spirit so powerfully or understood its precepts so clearly as I did during those waning months of my brother’s life. Truly, Oliver had given me the greater gift.

One beautiful spring day I left the door open to enjoy the fresh air. A small bird flew in the open door and then realized this was not where it wanted to be. It flew desperately around the room, repeatedly flying into the window glass in an attempt to escape. I tried to gently guide it toward the open door, but it was frightened and kept darting away. It finally landed on top of the window drapes in bewildered exhaustion. I took a broom and slowly reached the bristle end up to where the bird nervously perched. As I held the head of the broom next to its feet, the bird tentatively stepped onto the bristles. Slowly, very slowly, I walked to the open door, holding the broom as steady as I could. As soon as we reached the open door, the bird swiftly flew to freedom.

Like that bird, sometimes we are afraid to trust because we don’t understand God’s absolute love and desire to help us. But when we study Heavenly Father’s plan and Jesus Christ’s mission, we understand that Their only objective is our eternal happiness and progress.13 They delight to help us when we ask, seek, and knock.14 When we exercise faith and humbly open ourselves to Their answers, we become free from the constraints of our misunderstandings and assumptions, and we can be shown the way forward.

As an illustration, I would like to share with you a personal experience where I was taught to recognize and give thanks for the Lord's hand in my life.

My husband and I were married in 1970. He graduated from BYU and ROTC and was commissioned as an officer in the Air Force in 1972. Thus began our career with our first assignment to pilot training in Lubbock, Texas. We moved into what we considered a rather nice duplex home at Reese Air Force Base. Craig absolutely loved flying. He didn't mind getting up at 3:00 am to study and then reporting to the flight-line for a 12 hour workday. We had a great career and future in the Air Force, wonderful friends and neighbors, a great ward, and a beautiful daughter, Jennifer. Craig served as the Elder's Quorum president and I served in our Relief Society presidency. Life was just so good!

In December, 1972, we took time off from pilot training to go home to Idaho and Utah for Christmas. It was on our way back to Lubbock in early January that I noticed Craig was having some problems. It seemed like every time he picked something up with his right hand, it would simply slip right through his fingers. Once, while stopping at a Dairy Queen in Utah, we were on our way out to the car and he dropped the sack of food three times. While attending church in Moab, Utah, he couldn't pick up the sacrament and in Elder's Quorum he struggled with signing his name on the roll. When we got home to Lubbock, I insisted that he go into the doctor to make sure everything was okay. The next week, while at his appointment, Craig called to tell me the doctor wanted him to go to the Air Force neurological center in San Antonio for some tests. The doctor asked if I would want to join him but Craig said probably not because we had a 6-month-old daughter and that would be hard for both of us to go. He was then put on the afternoon flight from Lubbock to San Antonio. The next morning, he called and said to me, "I think you better come down and be with me." You see, while Craig was in the doctor's office, he looked at his own medical file lying on the doctor's desk and it said, in bold red letters "possible brain tumor." Apparently, no one had felt it was necessary to tell him that the doctor was actually looking for a brain tumor.

He asked me to call our families and let them know. The next day, Craig's brother and his wife left SLC, picked up Craig's dad in Moab, Utah and drove straight through to Lubbock. They stopped in Lubbock at our home, had a short nap and we were off to San Antonio. Just prior to their arrival, my home teacher and his wife were on my doorstep wanting to help. I learned that news travels fast throughout a military squad room. They offered to take Jennifer to stay with them for whatever time I needed to be gone. I hated to leave our daughter but I knew I needed to be with my husband. So we packed her bag and she was off to their home. Steve and Donna Jensen became the Lord's hands, serving my family. At this time, Craig and I had been married only 2 1/2 years.

When we arrived in San Antonio, Craig told us that they were going to do a test called a numoinsephlagram the next morning and if they found what they thought they would find, they would immediately do surgery for a brain tumor. This was before the age of MRI's or CAT scans. That night, my father-in-law gave Craig a blessing of health and healing and told him that brain surgery would not be needed. He blessed us with faith to deal with whatever lay ahead of us. He blessed us that the doctors would be guided and that we would trust in their skill.

The next morning, after the procedure, the doctor came out and told us that as they watched the air go through the brain, they were unable to find any tumor. So, for now, there would be no surgery. My father-in-law, brother, and sister-in-law left the next day and went back to Utah. I waited to fly home to Lubbock with Craig a week later. At first, his check-ups were scheduled every three months. Then they went to every six months, then to yearly and finally every 5 years. After the first year, they diagnosed his problem as a cranial disease of undetermined ideology. In other words, they had no idea what had happened. Throughout the years, the tests have always shown scar tissue which means that something happened but they just weren't sure what.

The doctor recommended that we stay in the Air Force for the time being because if we got out, he would be uninsurable. We were also advised not to have any more children because I could be left a widow raising children alone.

After a period of time, Craig was told he couldn't fly again. After much fasting and prayer, we followed the counsel about staying in the Air Force but the spirit told us otherwise about having children.

By virtue of not flying again, we realized that this was a life-changing experience. This was a hard time for us because all Craig had ever wanted to do was fly. He would never again have the thrill of pulling G's and soaring among the clouds. This change would affect all aspects of our military career. We would not be stationed at the same bases, meet the same people or do the same things. We would truly be on a different path.

At the young age of 22, I recognized that living righteously does not guarantee bad things would never happen to me. The Lord tells us, "lean not on thine own understanding." Well, for me, I couldn't lean on my own understanding because I had very little. I had to lean on the Lord's hand to help me bear my burden, guide and direct me, love me, and comfort me. Many hours were spent in fasting and prayer to be able to understand and learn what the Lord would have us do. We ultimately agreed together, that we would go and we would do whatever the Lord wanted us to. We knew from this experience and from our prayers that the Lord had a plan for us. We were committed to be faithful in all things and let the Lord's hand direct our life.

Through our experience, I also learned that I had to become more aware of happenings around me. I knew the Lord had reached into my life and because of His goodness I now had to reach out to those around me and touch their lives. My experience is truly a story about God's hand in our lives. I cannot begin to tell you of all the small miracles that happened to us each and every day. I felt the Lord's hand over and over blessing both of us and our family.

May I share with you an account of an opportunity of service which came to me unexpectedly and in an unusual manner. I received a telephone call from a granddaughter of an old friend. She asked, “Do you remember Francis Brems, who was your Sunday School teacher?” I told her that I did. She continued, “He is now 105 years of age. He lives in a small care center but meets with the entire family each Sunday, where he delivers a Sunday School lesson. Last Sunday, Grandpa announced to us, ‘My dears, I am going to die this week. Will you please call Tommy Monson and tell him this. He’ll know what to do.’”
I visited Brother Brems the very next evening. I could not speak to him, for he was deaf. I could not write a message for him to read, for he was blind. What was I to do? I was told that his family communicated with him by taking the finger of his right hand and then tracing on the palm of his left hand the name of the person visiting and then any message. I followed the procedure and took his finger and spelled on the palm of his hand T-O-M-M-Y M-O-N-S-O-N. Brother Brems became excited and, taking my hands, placed them on his head. I knew his desire was to receive a priesthood blessing. The driver who had taken me to the care center joined me as we placed our hands on the head of Brother Brems and provided the desired blessing. Afterward, tears streamed from his sightless eyes. He grasped our hands, and we read the movement of his lips. The message: “Thank you so much.”
Within that very week, just as Brother Brems had predicted, he passed away. I received the telephone call and then met with the family as funeral arrangements were made. How thankful I am that a response to render service was not delayed.

After Lee finished sweeping the back room, he tiptoed into the front of the Chinese shop to watch his father, dressed in a long gown, cover the rich carvings with beautifully colored silk cloths. When everything was well covered, his father’s head dipped in a bow. Lee knew it was time to go home!
Although the shop was filled with fine old porcelain cups and plates, hand-painted fans, and ivory and jade statuettes, Lee didn’t like it. The shop was too Chinese. His father still clung to the ways of the old world. His manner was humble, his step soft, and he seldom spoke—not even to the customers.
Once Lee spoke up. “You’re supposed to talk to customers,” he told his father.
The only answer was his father’s lowered eyes. Lee waited a minute and then dared to say even more. “You’re supposed to tell customers about the things you have to sell.”
Father’s searching eyes looked at Lee from across the room. Then he said, “What I do not wish men to do to me, I also wish not to do to men.” He turned and quietly walked out of the room.
Lee’s mother said nothing until she was sure they would not be overheard. Then her dark head went from side to side. “It is not right to talk to your father that way.”
“But,” Lee began, “you have to talk fast and push hard.” He wanted to tell his mother what his friend’s father had said, but his mother’s long cool fingers pressed against his lips.
“No more,” she said softly. “You must remember that you are your father’s son.”
Lee tried hard to remember, but one day he forgot. He had just finished sweeping the back room when a lady entered the shop.
Lee knew that after a brief nod the customers were permitted to browse and look about. He also knew that he should not approach customers. But all of a sudden he found himself saying to the lady, “Are you looking for cups?”
The lady half-smiled, and before she could answer Lee said, “We have porcelain cups and also beautiful hand-painted fans. They came all the way from China! So did the ivory elephants and the frogs carved of jade. Would you like to see them? We have nice incense burners too.”
Lee spoke so fast and said so much that the lady turned and hurried out of the shop.
His father watched but did not speak. Lee was grateful, for his face was already crimson with shame. He had talked fast, pushed hard, and lost a sale.
He waited for his father to speak. All he said was, “One good word is better than a thousand bad ones.”
Lee remembered his father’s words long after they had been spoken. He often said the words to himself, repeating them again and again, burying them deep in his mind.
He did not go near a customer again, but one day a customer approached him. A man came into the shop and looked about. When he saw Lee’s father was busy behind the counter, he motioned to Lee. “I’m sure you can help me,” he said.
Lee’s feet refused to move. It was only when his father nodded that he went forward. Have I learned, he thought, or will my tongue prattle?
The man smiled, and Lee’s lips quickly parted. But just as quickly his lips closed. Instead of speaking, his head dipped low just as his father’s would have done. Then he stood silent and waited while the man’s smile broadened as he picked up an ivory elephant and a green jade lotus blossom.
“I’ll take the elephant,” the man said at last. But he did not leave the shop. He stayed to look at the many other lovely carvings. At last he turned to Lee and said, “Most salesmen talk you to death when one good word could make a sale!” He turned and called to Lee’s father, “Your son is a good salesman. You should be proud of him.”
Lee saw a small smile cross his father’s face before they both quietly bowed their heads.

In 1956 Lee Wing Foon and his wife, Lee Kan Shui Tao, joined the Church. “I felt like an entirely new person when I was baptized,” Brother Lee remembers. At the time, however, meetings were held quite far from his home, and money was tight. The English Book of Mormon Brother Lee bought cost two days’ wages, and transportation to meetings proved costly. Gradually the Lees stopped attending.
“But I kept my English Book of Mormon,” says Brother Lee, who at the time was working as a civilian driver in the British Army. “It was a prized possession.”
Through the years missionaries occasionally visited, and three years ago two sisters issued a challenge. “They asked me to start reading the Book of Mormon,” he says. “They even came and read it with me once a week.”
However, attending Church was difficult. Eight years ago, Sister Lee had a stroke. She is unable to walk, and Brother Lee, now retired, spends much of his time caring for her. “It’s difficult for me to leave her alone,” he explains.
Missionaries continued to visit the Lees to read scriptures. And in September 1995, Brother Lee had a wonderful surprise. Jerry Wheat, the missionary who had baptized him four decades earlier, walked into his home with the elders. “I am serving as a public affairs missionary in Hong Kong,” Elder Wheat explained. “I had wondered what happened to Brother Lee, and when I asked and found out the missionaries were visiting him, I was thrilled to accompany them.”
The first time the two met, they hugged like old friends and caught up on each other’s lives. Elder Wheat returned again to the Lee home, this time to talk about the temple. “I challenged him to prepare himself to be sealed to his wife,” Elder Wheat explains. “He accepted.”
Since then, Brother Lee has made arrangements for neighbors or ward members to watch his wife while he attends church. With the assistance of ward members, he and his wife attended the ceremony celebrating the statue of the angel Moroni being placed on the top of the temple. They were sealed together in the Hong Kong Temple within the first few days of its opening.
“Being sealed is a great blessing, one that not everyone has,” Brother Lee says. “I am so grateful for the missionaries—those first elders that taught me, the sisters who showed such great compassion and love by reading the scriptures with me, and the missionaries who continue to visit me now. The gospel is true, and the Book of Mormon is proof of that.”

On my mission, it sometimes felt like people’s hearts or doors would never open to the gospel. Especially during our hardest times, my mission companion and I would fast to bring hope and happiness into our work.
First, we would kneel in prayer, asking our Heavenly Father to help us be positive, take setbacks well, and recognize His hand in our lives and our work. We also prayed that by having more optimistic attitudes, we could better represent our Savior, Jesus Christ. Then later, when we felt tempted to fall back into negative attitudes, we would say a small prayer, asking Him to bless us with the perspective to find the good (or at least the funny) in any situation.
Although we didn’t always have more success after those fasts, we were able to feel the Spirit more and kick negative feelings to the curb—usually through plenty of jokes and laughter.

He kept finding out more about his computer until he became experienced enough to talk to people all over the world under his computer name Condor. When he was 13, his parents gave him a modem for his birthday, and Steve promptly contacted computer facilities all over the United States.

“I didn’t know and I talked to some people for half an hour,” Steve laughs. But the grin fades as he recalls working off a $549 phone bill, while the modem remained in his parents’ custody for a while.

After the destructive wildfires in California in 2017, I traveled with Elder Von G. Keetch of the Seventy to minister to those who had lost so much. We saw whole neighborhoods that had been destroyed in just minutes.
In that destruction, Elder Keetch discovered some lessons that he later told his family members he might someday use in a talk. Sadly, though, Elder Keetch passed away from cancer less than a year later. With the help and support of the Keetch family, I’d like to share one of the lessons Elder Keetch shared with them.
As Elder Keetch walked through what used to be a home, he saw some pottery among the ashes. The pottery was unharmed, not even blackened by the flames.
The unharmed pottery that Elder Von G. Keetch saw in a burned home became a metaphor for a lesson he wanted to teach his family about adversity.
Photograph courtesy of Keetch family
“While everything in that house had been burned or melted,” Elder Keetch’s daughter said, “that pottery held strong. Why? Because it had already been through the refiner’s fire. As it was created, it had already been exposed to temperatures and pressures so great that the fire had little effect on it. Adversity in this life is our refiner’s fire. It is what molds us, strengthens us, and causes us to withstand the fires of this mortal life.”
Elder Keetch also said that God “allows us to experience trials and difficulties because He knows we need the ‘hard things’ to help us become who we need to become. And yet He also will shoulder our burdens and carry us through the difficult times [see Mosiah 24].”
The Keetch family couldn’t have known that soon after his trip to California, Elder Keetch’s illness and death would place them in their own fiery furnace. During that trial, his daughter said, “Just like the pottery in California, I will withstand the flames. And I will be stronger because of them.”
For me, the image of pottery unharmed by extreme heat shows that we can withstand the fires of affliction. Through our faith in Christ and His Atonement, we will receive strength. Even during our most painful trials, He can bring us peace. (See Matthew 8:23–27; 11:28; Mark 4:35–41.)
I believe the Keetch family will not only remain strong but also increase in faith—and yes, even joy—as they look forward to a sweet reunion with their husband, father, and grandfather. When our faith is built “upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God” (Helaman 5:12), our burdens become lighter.

Whenever I have been angry over the years with my wife, Carolyn, I kneel and pray for this good woman. She is such a kind and loving person that my anger is usually my own fault. Whatever the cause, my angry feelings are turned to increased love by sincere prayer.

On Sunday afternoon Carolyn saw me editing my remarks and asked if she could read them. She offered some insightful suggestions. Later that night, just as we were drifting off to sleep, she whispered to me, “I heard you share your experience about praying for your enemies when you taught our Jerusalem students during the Mount of the Beatitudes field trip. Since then, whenever I have been angry at you, I have prayed for you. It has worked every time.”

I did not know how to respond. I did not know whether to be miffed that she had felt I’d done things that justified her anger or to be happy that she had discovered the same results that I had in applying the Savior’s words. If I were miffed at her, I would have had to get out of bed and pray for her, and since I was very tired, I decided to just go to sleep a happy man. It should be no great surprise that good things come from following the teachings of the Master.

Sister Hinckley’s maternal grandmother, Martha Elizabeth Evans, married George Paxman, the faithful son of a stake president. He knew carpentry, and they moved to Manti, Utah, where he worked on the temple there. They lived in a sod-roofed house and were happy companions sealed in the sacred covenants of the gospel.
Two months before their second child was born (Sister Hinckley’s mother), George Paxman was injured. He was setting in place the massive east doors of the temple. Perhaps one of the doors slipped a little and he strained to hold it in place.
Within the week he died an agonizing death as a result of internal injuries. Martha provided for her daughters by sewing for a living. She was a widow for sixty-two years, ever sweet, never losing faith. Her daughter’s daughter was to become the wife of an Apostle, a counselor to Presidents.

When I turned 12, I was very eager to go to the temple for the first time. My mother and I went onto FamilySearch to find some family names for me to take. When I went to the Cardston Alberta Temple, I was baptized for my great-grandmothers and great-aunts, and I felt so warm inside.
When I was 14, I began to attend the family history classes in my ward, but I had a hard time finding family names. I eventually set a goal to find my great-grandfather’s family, the Thomas family.
I found several records about William Alfred Thomas. It turns out that he was the first person in my family to go to South Africa, my birthplace. I searched for more information about him for a year, but I still couldn’t find much more about him or his family. I just could not shake the feeling that the Thomas family wanted to be found.
One day I received the distinct prompting to look for William’s wife, Francina. A number of records came up—I had finally found them! I ecstatically told my parents, and my grandfather confirmed it to be the correct line.
My brother and I have now been baptized and confirmed for five generations of the Thomas line, all because of perseverance and a special prompting!
Family history does not always come together immediately, but doing it truly does bring a light into your life.
Savannah B., Canada

One of my general education requirements was to attend a certain number of cultural events. Does that sound familiar? I decided I would attend an upcoming performance by the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra. The concert was to be held in the Marriott Center. I thought to myself, “That’s where they play basketball, not violins.” Even though I didn’t hate classical music, I didn’t exactly embrace it either. My mother had taken us as small children to see the Utah Symphony on one or two occasions. They were thoroughly enjoyable outings. But, I went to this one with a little bit of the attitude that I’m really not into this type of music. The first number to be performed was a piece composed by Igor Stravinsky called the Firebird Suite. It only took about 60 seconds into the piece for me to become completely mesmerized by the music I was hearing. I had never heard music like this before. The remainder of the concert was equally beautiful and impressive to me. I could not remember having witnessed such a display of skill and perfection. The experience changed me. I discovered that what we call classical music could engage me spiritually, intellectually, and aesthetically in a way few things outside the gospel could. It has been a profound blessing to have great music as part of my life. These days when I need a haven from the world, I retreat to the beauty of great music from all genres.

The sweet reward of adversity is illustrated in this story. As a young woman of eighteen, a pretty model found her dreams shattered by an automobile accident that confined her to a wheelchair with partially paralyzed legs. Because of the accident she learned to play the piano. Because of the accident she learned to develop a sense of humor and to find that there’s a funny viewpoint to almost every subject. In time her legs regained their strength and she became an actress, gifted with a sense of humor that made her one of the outstanding comediennes of our time. You’ve heard her on the radio. You’ve seen her in motion pictures and particularly on television. You know that Lucille Ball was not stopped by adversity. On the contrary, it was the plus sign that made the difference.

I went to a Young Women activity at a beach, where we all took 20 minutes to silently ponder and meditate. I sat on a rock, listened to the crashing waves, and saw the serene sunset. But I was disappointed to find that even after 20 minutes, I still had not been able to find reverence. My distracted mind was too busy turning its wheels. I was consumed with my college application process. I was having trouble getting into my school of choice, and I felt like I had forgotten to breathe every once in a while.
When I realized I was having trouble feeling calm, I began praying for peace and relying on the Lord more. Instead of reciting a wish list in my prayers, I tried to remember that the Lord’s will was more important than my own. I prayed for what the Lord wanted to happen, not what I wanted to happen.
I felt more at peace over the course of the next few months and saw miracles in my life. I realized the Lord was trying to show me that He loved me. The peace I felt helped me to know of His love. I know that it is possible to find reverence despite our everyday distractions. If we seek peace and reverence, then we can more fully usher in the feelings of love that come from our Heavenly Father.

Brother John A. Widtsoe traveled to England during the First World War, and the English immigration official who interviewed him said, “No, we are not going to let you land. We have been letting your missionaries in, but we do not want any of your leaders.” He said, “Go and sit down.” So Brother Widtsoe went and sat down.
In a few minutes the official called him back and said, “If I let you land in my country, what will you teach my people?” And Dr. Widtsoe said, “I will teach them where they came from, why they are here, and where they are going.” The officer looked up at him and asked, “Does your church teach that?” And Brother Widtsoe said, “It does.”
“Well, mine doesn’t,” he said, and he came down with his stamp on the passport, signed it, and said, “You may enter.”

Ethan saw a boy on the playground who walked differently than anyone else he’d seen. The boy shuffled his feet and twisted his hands together as he walked. Ethan thought the boy looked funny.
“Hey, guys, look at this!” One of Ethan’s friends ran up behind the boy and began following him, copying everything the boy did. Ethan snickered and did the same. Soon a line of boys were shuffling their feet and twisting their hands. When the boy mumbled to himself, Ethan and his friends mumbled too.
The boy stopped and turned to look at them. Did he know what they’d been doing? Ethan couldn’t tell by the boy’s blank expression. But then the boy turned and hobbled faster, like he wanted to get away from them.
As Ethan thought about what he had just done, he felt sick inside. He realized that every day the boy faced challenges that Ethan didn’t have—and he had laughed at the boy like he was a cartoon character on TV instead of a person with feelings.
“I should’ve helped the boy, not made fun of him,” Ethan thought to himself. He knew he should apologize, but what would he say?
“I’ll just forget the whole thing ever happened,” Ethan decided. “Except I’ll try not to laugh at people anymore.”
As days went by, Ethan had a hard time forgetting. Sometimes when Ethan saw the boy and remembered what happened, he got the same uncomfortable feeling inside. He knew the Holy Ghost was telling him he needed to do something more to set things right. Finally, Ethan gathered his courage and walked up to the boy.
“My friends and I weren’t very nice to you,” he said, “I’m sorry. I wish I hadn’t done that.”
The boy didn’t say anything at first. Then he smiled a little. “It’s OK.”
Ethan couldn’t tell if the smile was real or if the boy’s feelings were still hurt. But he didn’t know what else to say.
One Sunday, Ethan’s ward boundaries changed. He was surprised when the boy from the playground walked through the church doors, and he was thankful that he’d already apologized. Otherwise, he would have felt embarrassed when the boy saw him sitting in church, learning to be like Jesus.
“Hi,” Ethan said. “What’s your name?”
“Matt,” the boy said.
“Are you going to Scouts this Wednesday?” Ethan asked.
Matt said he was.
At Scouts that week, the boys were learning to fish. Ethan watched as Matt struggled with the fishing pole. He could hold the rod, but he had a hard time casting the line.
“Would you like me to cast it for you?” Ethan asked.
“OK,” Matt said.
Ethan cast Matt’s fishing line into the pond. He handed Matt the pole and reached for his own. “Can I fish here too?” Ethan asked.
“Sure,” Matt said.
Ethan was surprised how easy it was to talk to Matt as they fished.
“See you Sunday,” Ethan said when Scouts was over.
“Yeah, see you.” This time Matt grinned so big that Ethan didn’t have to wonder. He could tell that his new friend’s smile was real.

Imagine graduating from Young Women and a few months later being called as Relief Society president. Impossible, you say? Mallory Higginson and Macie Murphy could tell you otherwise.
Both 18-year-old freshmen at BYU–Idaho, Macie and Mallory are serving as presidents of the Relief Society groups in their student wards. They had hardly even attended Relief Society before they were each called to serve as president.
They smile confidently as they talk about their callings, but each admits being surprised and overwhelmed after her first meeting with the bishop. Neither of them had been attending Relief Society for very long before arriving at school. Now all of a sudden they were in charge. Despite their initial doubts and fears, Macie and Mallory have quickly come to see that they are not on their own. Their mothers, who have both served as Relief Society presidents, are only a phone call away with comfort and advice. Their bishop is also there to support them, and, of course, so is the Lord.
Although from very different parts of the country—Macie is from Columbus, Georgia, and Mallory is from Mesa, Arizona—they are both learning together that Relief Society is about women being united in the gospel.

What about being kind when others are mean or we don’t feel they deserve kindness? That’s where the test gets hard, doesn’t it? The answer is, of course, that we try to show charity for all. Lucy Mack Smith shared the following story about her son:
A large group of men approached stating they had come to “kill Joe Smith and all the Mormons.” Joseph smiled, and shook their hands. He sat down with them and explained to them many of the difficulties the Saints had suffered and their claim against the injustices that had been heaped upon them. After talking to them for some time he turned and said, “I believe I will go home now—Emma will be expecting me.” At this, two of the officers who had come to kill him suggested that he should not go home alone and insisted that they would provide an escort to ensure his safety As they left, Joseph’s mother heard one say, “Did you not feel strangely when Smith took you by the hand?” Another said, “I could not move. I would not harm a hair of that man’s head for the whole world.”

I recently heard Jenny’s story. She is a returned missionary whose parents divorced while she was serving her mission. She told how the thought of returning home “scared [her] to death.” But at the end of her mission to Italy, as she stopped in the mission home on her way home to the United States, a certain woman, the mission president’s wife, tenderly ministered to her simply by brushing her hair.
Years later, another certain woman, Terry—a stake Relief Society president and disciple of Jesus Christ—blessed Jenny’s life when Jenny was called as a ward Relief Society president. At that time, Jenny was working on her dissertation for her doctoral degree. Not only did Terry serve as a mentor to Jenny as a leader, but she also sat with her for 10 hours at the hospital when Jenny received the alarming diagnosis of leukemia. Terry visited the hospital and drove Jenny to appointments. Jenny confessed, “I think I may have thrown up several times in her car.”
Despite her illness, Jenny continued to serve valiantly as the ward Relief Society president. Even in her extremity, she made phone calls and sent texts and emails from her bed, and she invited sisters to come see her. She mailed cards and notes to people, loving her sisters from a distance. When her ward requested a photograph of her presidency for their ward history, this is what they got. Because Jenny is a certain woman herself, she invited all to share others’ burdens, including her own.
As a certain woman, Jenny testified: “Not only are we here to save others but to save ourselves. And that salvation comes from partnering with Jesus Christ, from understanding His grace and His Atonement and His feelings of love for the women of the Church. That happens through things as simple as brushing someone’s hair; sending a note with an inspired, clear, revelatory message of hope and grace; or allowing women to serve us.”