Gospel Story Finder

Some years ago, in the ward I attended in Mexico, I was assigned a young ministering companion who was a counselor in a ward bishopric. He and his wife were both students, and they had two small children. He had a modest job and strove to serve faithfully in the Church. He was a well-organized and diligent young man, a good husband, father, and son. While I was on an assignment as an Area Seventy in the state of Yucatan, one Sunday afternoon, this dear brother sent me a text message saying he needed to travel to another city, Guadalajara, because one of his brothers was seriously ill. I replied asking how I could help, but he didn’t respond. As I returned from my assignment, arriving late that Sunday in Mexico City, I tried again to contact my companion, but there was no response. I assumed he was traveling and had no signal. That night, I stayed in a hotel near the Mexico City airport to travel early the next day to my final destination. That evening before going to bed, and again in the morning when I woke up , I prayed for Heavenly Father to help this brother, and I also expressed my desire to help him.
In the morning, I tried to contact him again with no success. Then I headed to the airport. Upon arriving, I knew the route to the boarding gates well, but this time I decided to walk in the opposite direction because I wanted to explore a different place for breakfast, as I hadn’t had the opportunity to do so at the hotel. As I walked a bit, to my surprise, I found this dear brother standing there, looking lost and pensive. Immediately, I greeted him and asked, “What are you doing here?” He told me he had traveled by bus all night from Oaxaca to Mexico City, but now he needed to take a plane because he urgently needed to get to Guadalajara to minister to his brother, however, he was having some difficulties getting his plane ticket. He also mentioned that his phone battery had died, and he couldn’t charge it. I knew perfectly well that I had arrived at that precise moment and in that precise place, there, in response to both our prayers, with the purpose of helping him.
My dear brothers and sisters, do you consider it a mere coincidence that, in a city of over 20 million inhabitants, I would encounter this brother by chance, who I had prayed for and asked to be able to help?
My dear brothers and sisters, when we have the desire to help, there are many burdens we can lighten. “Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.” (James 1:27).
I testify that when we are baptized, we enter into a covenant with God and promise to mourn with those who mourn and comfort those who stand in need of comfort. Many times, dear brothers and sisters in the faith have wept with me, and many times more they have comforted me. Through them, our Heavenly Father and our Lord Jesus Christ have shown me that just as they love and know each of you, they love and know us by name, they know of our afflictions, challenges, weaknesses, and even the desires of our hearts.

Cammie’s mouth watered as she watched Leanne pass out her birthday treat—cupcakes trimmed with candies. She watched Leanne place one with purple candies on Josh’s desk, a huge one with pink candies on Shelly’s desk, and another one with chocolate candies on Nick’s desk. Cammie could hardly wait to see which one Leanne would give her. As she approached Cammie, Leanne frowned at her. “I know we’re not good friends, but she’ll still give me a good cupcake,” Cammie thought.
Leanne looked over the few cupcakes left in the box and selected a tiny squashed cupcake with only one candy on it. Looking down at the floor, she plopped that one onto Cammie’s desk. All the kids in Cammie’s row looked at her and whispered to each other. Cammie’s eyes burned with unshed tears. “I won’t cry,” she told herself. “Leanne’s just a snob. She won’t play with anyone but her own group of friends.” Cammie bit her lip and stared straight ahead.
After class, on the playground, Cammie talked to her best friend, Becky, about what had happened. “Just wait until my birthday next week,” Cammie said. “I’ll have something really special for my treat and I won’t give her any, or I’ll give her a really ugly one. Then she can see how it feels.”
That evening Cammie and her mom planned the treat Cammie would take to school the following week. Since Cammie loved chocolate, they decided on chocolate chip cookies.
“Mom, can we decorate them with lots of chocolate candies?” Cammie asked.
“Sure, that would look nice,” her mom answered. “You can put them on yourself, if you’d like.”
“Oh, I’ll put them on all right,” Cammie thought. “I’ll make Leanne’s really special.”
The following week, Cammie nibbled on chocolate candies as she helped her mom bake the cookies. “Don’t eat them all before you decorate the cookies.” Mom laughed.
Cammie grinned and pushed the bowl of candies away. She spent the next hour carefully placing candies on each cookie as it came out hot and gooey from the oven. She put a variety of colors on some cookies and only blue and red or yellow and brown on some. She made a special one for Becky. Soon there were only a few cookies left to decorate.
“Now, for the one to give Leanne,” Cammie thought. She found a small, lopsided cookie and squished it in the middle, leaving a dent. Then she picked a misshapen chocolate candy and plunked it down on top of the small, crooked cookie. “That will serve her right,” Cammie thought.
After she said her prayers that night, Cammie lay awake thinking about how awful Leanne would feel the next morning. Thinking about it made Cammie feel bad all over again. “Should I do it? Am I doing the right thing?” she wondered. Finally she fell asleep, undecided.
At school the next day, Cammie’s class looked excitedly at the giant cookies with their bright trimmings. Cammie made a special effort to show them to Leanne. Leanne just sniffed and said, “They’re OK.” Then she sneaked another peek at the cookies. Cammie smiled to herself.
“All right, children, we have another birthday treat today,” the teacher announced. “Cammie, would you pass out your treat? My, it looks delicious.”
Cammie started passing out the cookies, not paying much attention to who got each one. “That way no one feels bad,” she thought. “No one but Leanne.” Leanne slid down in her seat with an uneasy look on her face.
Soon Cammie had passed out all but the last three cookies. Only two students remained: Leanne and Jody. Cammie gave a huge one to Jody, then turned to look right into Leanne’s eyes. When she saw how unhappy Leanne looked, she remembered what she had been thinking about the night before. Cammie knew how Leanne felt. She took a step forward and moved her hand toward the ugly little cookie. She froze as she saw a pleading look and tears in Leanne’s eyes.
“She did the same thing to me first,” a little voice inside her said. “But you know how it feels. Do you want to make someone else feel that way, too?” she thought. Suddenly the words, “‘Love your enemies’” and “‘do good to them that hate you,’”* came into her mind. Would she really feel better by making Leanne feel bad?
“Are you almost finished, Cammie?” her teacher asked as Cammie hesitated.
Cammie slowly picked up the bigger cookie, one with many colored candies on it, and placed it carefully on Leanne’s desk. “I made this one especially for you,” she said. Leanne’s mouth dropped open as she stared up at Cammie. Then Cammie returned to her desk and ate the squished little cookie herself. She had never tasted a better cookie.

A true story from the USA.
Max bopped his head in rhythm with the song playing on the car radio. He couldn’t wait! Today Mom was taking him to play with his cousin, Preston. But just as his favorite part of the song came on, Mom turned down the music. He was about to ask her to turn it back up when he saw her face in the rearview mirror. She looked a little sad.
“What’s wrong?” Max asked.
“I have something to talk to you about before we get to Preston’s house,” Mom said. “Preston’s family has decided to stop going to church.”
Max and Preston were baptized on the same day. He thought about all the times they had gone to church together. It made him sad to think that might not happen anymore.
“Why?” Max asked.
Mom sighed. “Well, his parents don’t believe the Church is true anymore. Aunt Abby got a little upset with me the other day when we talked about church.”
Max felt a knot in his stomach. “What if Preston gets upset with me about it too?” Max whispered.
Mom looked back at Max in the mirror. “If you’re not sure what to say, just listen. The Holy Ghost will help you know what to do. No matter what, they are our family, and we will always love them.”
Max was a little nervous when he got to Preston’s house, but they quickly started talking and playing like normal. After their front-flip contest on the trampoline, they went inside for a drink. Max realized that it was almost time for Mom to pick him up.
“I’ve got to go soon,” Max said. “I wish I could stay longer.”
“You should spend the night!” Preston handed Max a glass of water.
Max took a drink. “I can’t. I have to get up early tomorrow.”
“For church?” Preston laughed. It wasn’t a friendly laugh. Max didn’t like the way it sounded.
“You should skip church,” Preston said. “Stay here. We’ll sleep in and then play all day. If you go to church, you’ll have to comb your hair and sit still while people talk about boring stuff.” He closed his eyes and pretended to fall asleep. Then he opened his eyes and laughed again. “Is it really worth it?”
Max was nervous. What should he say? He sipped his water, took a deep breath in, and silently prayed to know what to do. Then Max smiled and said simply, “Well … it’s worth it to me.”
Preston nodded slowly. “OK,” he said. “That’s cool. I just hope we can play again soon.”
“Me too,” Max smiled.
On the way home, Max told Mom what happened.
Mom listened quietly and smiled. “See? You listened to the Holy Ghost, and you knew just what to say.”
Max felt happy. He was glad that the Holy Ghost had helped him to be brave and stand up for what he knew was right.

For one family home evening, my dad wanted to take advantage of a pause in the rainy weather to go on a walk around the neighborhood. I grumbled and complained that it was too wet and muddy to go walking. I used the excuse that I had a ballet recital that week and didn’t want to sprain an ankle, but my dad didn’t buy it. He insisted that it was going to be the activity for the evening. I murmured a bit more about the unfairness and my recital, but we left on the walk anyway.
As I glumly stomped outside for the walk with my family, I was determined not to smile or be happy. I succeeded in feeling miserable until we reached the end of the street. Then we turned the corner and I saw, in full force, nature’s beauty and wonder. Before me was a gorgeous sunset, and opposite it was a rainbow arching above our neighborhood rooftops. I immediately forgot all about being miserable and looked around in awe.
On the way home I said a prayer of gratitude, thanking God for the beauty of His creations. I later thanked my dad for choosing the activity and for allowing us to enjoy nature for that family home evening.

The Isaac Morley farm in Kirtland was the site of the service project. Overgrown with thorny vines, grass choking the lanes, trees crowding the old home, the farm was discouraging. Cleaning it up looked like an impossible task. But never underestimate a determined group of LDS teenagers. They tore into their assigned tasks with a vengeance. “I haven’t worked that hard in years,” said Autumn Cornaby, 17, of the Dublin Ward. “You could feel everyone working together. I thought we would never be able to clear this road.”
The group stuck with it, ignoring the scratches and the heat. By the end of the day, the road was cleared, the lawn cut, the trees trimmed, and the flowerbeds around the house cleaned out.
After a day of hard work, they heard the stories about the wonderful visions that were given to early Church leaders on the farm. One verse in the 64th section of the Doctrine and Covenants, which was received on that farm, took on a personal meaning. “Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great” (D&C 64:33).

“Since you’re friends with us now, you can’t be friends with anyone else,” Jada told me.
“OK,” I said. I couldn’t believe I was friends with the popular girls! I was so lucky! This year was going to be so cool. I could hardly wait to see what popular kids did to be, well, popular.
After school my old friend Aaliyah met me. “Hey, La-Neisha, are you ready?” she asked. We lived on the same street, and normally we walked home together.
I looked around me. I didn’t want Jada to see me talking to Aaliyah.
“No, I don’t want to walk home with you,” I said. Aaliyah looked confused and sad as I turned and walked home alone, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to risk losing my new, popular friends.
That Sunday in Primary, I looked for a place to sit. Aaliyah waved at me. There was an empty seat by her, but I didn’t sit there. Even at church I couldn’t risk sitting by someone who wasn’t popular, I decided. Besides, who needed friends at church? Having the right friends at school was more important.
The next few days, Aaliyah kept asking me to walk home with her, and I kept saying no. Why won’t she leave me alone? I thought. Can’t she see I’m not her friend anymore? I was hanging out with my new friends a lot. Being popular was fun! I tried not to notice Aaliyah at school or church. I told myself she had other friends, so I didn’t have to talk to her.
One night the phone rang. Mom answered it and frowned as she listened.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll talk to her. Thanks for calling.” Mom hung up the phone.
“La-Neisha,” Mom said to me. “That was Aaliyah’s mom. She says you won’t walk home with Aaliyah or even talk to her. Aaliyah is really sad. She doesn’t understand why you keep ignoring her.”
My stomach got tight. I tried to come up with something to say, but I didn’t think Mom would understand how important my new friends were to me.
“I just don’t want to be friends with her anymore,” I said. But I felt guilty. I knew that wasn’t true. I thought of how mean I had been to Aaliyah lately. We used to be good friends. I knew in my heart that the way I was treating Aaliyah was wrong.
On Sunday, Sister Hong gave a lesson on repentance. She said, “If you do something wrong, you need to ask the person you have hurt for forgiveness.” I kept thinking about those words. I knew what I needed to do. I didn’t care what Jada, or any of my popular friends, thought. I was going to talk to Aaliyah and say sorry.
After church I saw Aaliyah. My stomach knotted, but I knew I should ask her for forgiveness. I needed to be kind at school and church—and everywhere in between. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
“Hi, Aaliyah,” I said. “Can I talk to you?”
Aaliyah’s face lit up. “Of course.”
The knot in my stomach came undone. Aaliyah didn’t have to forgive me, but I still wanted to ask. Maybe we could start walking home together again. And we could be new, old friends.

As a 17-year-old teenager in Arizona, USA, Kathy R. often had to explain to members of her extended family certain things that as a Latter-day Saint she did—or did not do.
“I remember talking with my aunt one time,” Kathy says. “She said, ‘Your church doesn’t let you smoke or drink, right?’ I told her that the Church teaches that drinking and smoking are not good but that Heavenly Father allows me the freedom to choose, and knowing what I know, I choose not to smoke or drink.”
Kathy says that in her case this was a better reply than saying, “Smoking and drinking are against my standards,” although sometimes that might be a perfectly appropriate response.
“My aunt thinks churches force people to be obedient, so when I explained that we have agency, she was really interested in what I had to say,” Kathy says. “When I explained I had set personal goals for myself not to smoke or drink, she was willing to support me.”

The forest here is calm and quiet, especially in the evening. A cool breeze, like a hymn being sung, whispers through the pines. It seems as though this grove has always been a sacred place, the kind of refuge from the world that a clearing in the woods provides.
As peaceful as the forest is, though, the young men and women gathered here seem just as reverent. They speak in quiet tones, but with gladness. They have just spent several hours in the Stockholm Sweden Temple, the house of the Lord.
“Being in the temple makes me feel clean and happy,” says Thor Andre Erak, sixteen.
Lillian Nilsen, seventeen, agrees. “Everyone who comes to the temple gets a stronger testimony because of the spirit here,” she says. “When you do baptisms for the dead, you have a feeling you’re doing them for someone, that maybe they will become members of the Church. It’s missionary work in a powerful way.”
This particular group of your Latter-day Saints is from the Oslo Second Ward, Oslo Norway Stake. But they could just as easily have been from remote islands in Finland, or from the port cities of Denmark, or from busy downtown Stockholm, just minutes up the freeway. The truth is, young people come to the temple from throughout the northland.
“This is my second trip,” says Charlotte Marie Lundkvist, twelve. “The last time we came with the whole stake, and I was baptized for forty-five people. Then we went to the temple president’s house and had a fireside. He told us about a man who was paralyzed and couldn’t do things for himself. He had to rely on other people. That’s what we’re doing here. People in the spirit world can’t do this for themselves. They have to rely on other people.”
“They may be watching, just waiting for someone to do this work for them,” says Kristina Arsnes, thirteen. “I would be really thankful if I were in that situation and someone were to do it for me.”
The spire of the Stockholm Temple stretches straight and tall, bright white against the greens and browns of the trees. Here in its shadow, it’s natural to talk about missions, families, promises, and eternity—about things that are, as the scriptures say, everlasting. (See D&C 79:1.)
But those who come from far away aren’t the only ones who benefit from the temple. The youth who live right next door, in the little town of Vasterhaninge, say the temple has been a great blessing to their community.
“I ride by the temple on the bus,” says Roy Gunnarsson, seventeen. “Of course, a lot of people toured the building before it was dedicated. But I still hear people talking about it almost every day, even little children. The most common reaction when they see it is, ‘Wow, what a beautiful building!’ When they find out I know what it is, they want to know more: ‘Is it a church?’ ‘What do you do in there?’ It’s a wonderful chance to explain the plan of salvation.”
“For me,” says Cecilia Jensen, sixteen, “the temple is a constant reminder. Our ward building is on the same land, so when we go to a ward activity, we’re next to the temple all the time. Sometimes we watch the couples leaving after they’re married. How can you be around the temple that much and not think of what it stands for?”
Yes, the reminder is strong, and the spirit of gospel involvement is pervasive. Talk to Bishop Engman of the Vasterhaninge Ward, and you’ll find the activity level among his youth is near 100 percent. Six full-time missionaries from the ward are currently serving, and “our goal is for every young man to serve a mission.” A dozen seminary students meet in the chapel at 6:30 A.M.. Monday through Thursday, without fail.
And the Handen Ward, which meets in the same building, has a youth program that is equally valiant.
Because so many temple workers live in the area, the Mormon presence in Vasterhaninge is strong. Latter-day Saints make up 1.4 percent of the population, which gives them stature in local government, housing projects, and political groups. Instead of being the only Mormons in their schools, many young Latter-day Saints have two or three member friends in their classes. Teachers are aware of Church standards and open-minded about LDS ideals.
But having a temple in the community has done more than just make people aware of the Mormons.
“Having a temple here makes me feel secure,” says Sofia Sivula, fourteen. “It lifts me above the everyday problems and reminds me of eternity.”
“I see the temple and think of being married there someday,” says Annika Reithmeier, sixteen. “I know that the promises you make in the temple are promises with the Lord. The things you learn in the temple won’t just change or disappear.”
“I like being inside the temple,” says David Girhammar, fifteen. “You can relax, read the scriptures, and forget about everything else. There’s a feeling of great comfort in there.”
In Vasterhaninge, it’s easy for the youth to gather, since most of them live less than five minutes from the chapel. Virtually every Friday night, there’s a large group of teenagers at the ward. Sometimes there’s an opportunity to meet young members from other areas who are going to or coming from the temple.
“I love it when the kids from Göteborg join us for a dance,” says Paul Engman, sixteen. “But even more, I love to see so many young people in the house of the Lord. It makes you feel the Church is strong.”
The temple president, George Damstedt, loves to tell of the faithful youth who attend the temple. Some have traveled long hours to be there. Many stay as a group in youth hostels to cut expenses. Most attend at least two sessions of baptisms before heading home.
“Once I was invited to climb aboard a bus of young folks from Finland,” President Damstedt recalls. “They sang ‘I Am a Child of God,’ and I just started crying. I couldn’t understand the words, but I could understand the Spirit. You can see the Church’s future here. It’s with these young people who come to the temple. They know they’re part of something important, of something that will last forever.”
President Damstedt has stepped outside now. He’s visiting with the group from Oslo, here in the woods where the evening is crisp and the breeze is cool.
“It’s a little chilly,” says Julie Karine Rennesund, seventeen. “But I still feel warm inside.”
Julie knows, as the other young people gathered here know, that it is a warmth that will linger.
A lot of young men find ways to pay for their missions. But Patric Balck has found what he calls “an ideal place to work.”
Patric, eighteen, a newly ordained elder in the Handen Ward, is a groundskeeper and apprentice gardener at the Stockholm Temple. For four years now, he has spent his working hours mowing lawns, trimming trees and bushes, and tending flowers, all under the direction of the head groundskeeper.
“It’s more than just a job,” Patric says. “It gives me an opportunity to talk to nonmember friends and tourists. I’ve given out copies of the Book of Mormon. I try to make people who visit the grounds feel at home. And, of course, I try to make sure the grounds look good.”
Patric says the temple is a wonderful place to work, “because of the calm feeling that is always here.” He says that he notices a new interest in religion among young people in Sweden and that he’s eager to serve a mission and find out if that same interest is growing elsewhere.
Editor’s note: Since this story was written, Patric has received his call and is currently serving in the Idaho Boise Mission.

I was not a member of the Church as a child. It wasn’t until I was an adult and a businessman that I was baptized.
My father was also a businessman. He was very worried when I joined the Church. He said, “You don’t drink alcohol anymore. That will be hard in meetings where everyone is drinking together.”
But I wasn’t worried. I decided that when someone offered me alcohol, I would say, “No, thank you.” Then I would order something else.
Years went by, and I did this many times. After a while, my coworkers noticed. If I was offered alcohol, they said, “Mathias doesn’t drink. Bring him something else.” More and more of them stopped ordering alcohol too. “I don’t want any either,” they said.
Once, some visitors came to a meeting. They were the only ones drinking alcohol.
They asked me, “Why isn’t anyone drinking alcohol? Are they all members of your church?”
“No,” I said.
I didn’t preach to my coworkers about the Word of Wisdom. I was just firm in my beliefs, and they noticed my example.

Megan’s older brother Jake looked handsome in his military fatigues. But Megan wished he didn’t have them on today. He stood by his packed suitcases in the hallway, ready to leave for active duty, as the whole family gathered around wishing him good-bye. After a big bear hug for Megan, Jake was gone.
On Monday night, everyone gathered in the living room for family home evening. Megan sat on the center cushion of the couch next to the empty spot where Jake always sat. A letter from Jake had let the family know he arrived at his military base safe and sound, but Megan missed him—especially tonight. Family home evening was a special time for compliments, songs, stories, lessons, and testimonies. Jake had often whispered the answers to questions in Megan’s ear so she could get them right, his strong arm around her shoulders.
When Megan’s older sister Liz began playing the piano for the opening song, Megan missed Jake even more. “Families can be together forever through Heavenly Father’s plan,” Megan sang. “But Jake isn’t here together with our family,” Megan thought. She sang the next line. “I always want to be with my own family, and the Lord has shown me how I can.”* “How can we be together with Jake?” she wondered. “He is thousands of miles away.”
Megan heard her father’s voice asking her to say the opening prayer. Her heart skipped a beat. She hopped to her feet and folded her arms. She would ask Heavenly Father to show them how their family could be together when Jake was so far away. “Dear Father in Heaven, we’re so thankful to be here in family home evening. But Jake isn’t here. He can’t sing with us and learn with us. He is going to be especially lonely on Monday nights. Help us to know how we can be a close family even though he is far away. And please watch over him so he’ll be safe.”
Megan sat down. She saw her purple school notebook on the floor by the couch and grinned. She had an idea. She picked up her notebook, opened it, and began writing furiously.
Dad opened the family council part of the evening by announcing, as always, “Greeps, Gripes, and Grumps.” No one could remember how this silly name came to be. Greeps were calendar items and compliments. Gripes and Grumps were comments and complaints to be addressed. Megan usually had lots to say. But this time she was busy writing.
Dad soon began giving the lesson, which was from an article in the Ensign about humility.
“Megan, can you tell us what becoming like a little child means to you?” Megan, who was busy writing, didn’t hear him.
“Is that homework, Megan?” Dad asked. “We’re having our lesson.”
Megan stopped writing. “I know how we can be a family!” she said excitedly. The whole family stared at her. “With Jake gone, I mean. I know how we can still have family home evening together!”
“How?” everyone asked.
Megan turned her notebook around for them to see. It said,
Megan’s family gathered around, patting her on the back.
“What a great idea!” Liz said. “But you could leave out the part about the mistakes!”
“He’ll love it!” declared Mom.
“Why didn’t I think of that?” Josh asked.
“Jake won’t be here,” Megan said. “But every week in the mail he’ll get our family home evening in an envelope, sealed with a hug!”
“I think Heavenly Father answered your prayer,” Dad said.
Megan was already writing again, her pen bobbing across the paper and her face beaming bright.
Family Home Evening, October 8
Opening song: “Families Can Be Together Forever”—accompanied by Liz with only a few tiny mistakes, led by Josh who is still wearing his sweaty soccer uniform.
Opening prayer: Given by Megan who asked a special blessing on Jake who is far away and who Megan is missing very much because he won’t be whispering the right answers in her ear.
Greeps, Gripes, and Grumps: Josh told everyone what time his soccer game is this week. Liz said she loved the new sweater she wore today that Mom gave her and could everyone please come to the school choir concert she’s in next Thursday. Jillie asked what we’re having for treats after the lesson. Mom said rice pudding. Jillie asked if we could have ice cream sandwiches next week. Mom said we probably could if Jillie reminded her in time.
Lesson: Given by Dad—about humility, taken from Elder Marlin K. Jensen’s talk in the Ensign. We shouldn’t compare ourselves to others. This is what makes us have pride. It is a great thing to become as a little child and love everyone.

I carried a tray of food, prepared by my mother-in-law, into a cluttered and dusty home. The sole occupant sat where she always sat, on a big armchair positioned so she could see out the window. Her swollen legs were stretched in front of her and her cane, which she used only with great effort, leaned against her arm. She smiled when she saw me, thanked me for the food, and apologetically asked who I was. As I sat next to her and listened to her stories, I was filled with warmth and peace.
Three years later, I was on the floor with my two young children, bouncing them on my legs and singing a racehorse tune. Only a few feet away, my kitchen was in disarray and toys were scattered across the floor. I suddenly felt a reassurance from the Spirit that I was right where I needed to be. Warmth and peace flooded my soul, filling its worn edges and giving energy where there was none.
Another two years forward, I was lying on the bed. A pile of laundry was visible on the floor, and a stack of papers littered the desk to my left as I fed my newborn son for the fourth time that night. I brushed my fingertips against his long lashes, felt his soft bald head, and was thrilled when fingers curled around the lace of my shirt. I was so filled with warmth and peace that I didn’t even mind that I was sometimes awake at three in the morning.
In each of these cases, the Holy Ghost was with me, telling me I was in the right place and doing the right thing, and in each of these cases, I was in a messy home.
I still remember the shock I felt the first time I made this connection—I began questioning my experiences. After all, I had always thought growing up that the Holy Ghost doesn’t dwell in unclean places—so I took that to include dirty homes. And these thoughts were nearly always accompanied by a scriptural reference. We learn in 1 Nephi 10:21 that “no unclean thing can dwell with God.” And the Lord tells us in Doctrine and Covenants 88:124 to “cease to be idle; [and] cease to be unclean.”
The irony in all of this is that I missed the deeper meaning of these scriptures—the importance of keeping our personal temples, our minds and bodies, clean—and instead jumped straight to the physical meaning. I had somehow learned from all of these lessons that my worth as a young wife and mother was all wrapped up in how perfect and clean my house was—and the effect of that belief was devastating.
I was always paralyzed with fear when the state of my home was not so perfect. I often didn’t listen for whisperings from the Spirit because I would look around my apartment and think, “No, there’s no way the Spirit can dwell here.”
I can’t remember the exact moment I realized I could feel the Spirit in a home that fell far short from the temple’s standards of cleanliness. But I do remember when I realized that the Lord, with His infinite capacity for compassion and empathy, saw the less-than-perfect efforts I offered, accepted them, and still sent me the spiritual companionship I desperately needed. He doesn’t need me to be perfect right now—He just needs me to do the best I can.
It hasn’t happened overnight, but slowly I’ve let go of what Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles refers to as “toxic perfectionism” (see “Be Ye Therefore Perfect—Eventually,” Ensign or Liahona, Nov. 2017, 42). I’ve started allowing myself to believe that I can have the Holy Ghost with me even if I don’t have the energy to stay up all night with a teething baby and keep up with the laundry. Instead, I make sure I give the best I can give, and I accept the love Heavenly Father sends in return. I haven’t given up on becoming a better homemaker, I just say yes to the grace and inspiration the Lord has been trying to give me for so long. Because when I keep myself spiritually clean and do what He asks me to do, the Holy Ghost comes, messy house or not.

In August 2020, amidst the throes of a pandemic, Len Hurley celebrated his 100th birthday and a lifetime of service—to his family, country, and fellow members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Victoria’s COVID-19 lockdown restrictions meant no visits from family or friends, however, staff at Len’s Bentleigh East nursing home made sure it was a special day for Len, decorating the hall with balloons and making a garden-themed birthday cake to share with fellow residents.
Len’s family joined in the celebrations via Zoom. Letters from the queen and prime minister were also presented to the centenarian.

When I was 12 years old, my mother died, leaving my father with six children. There were few educational opportunities in our area, and many people were satisfied with a fourth-grade education. But I wasn’t. I held on to a dream of finishing my studies.
My opportunity came when I moved to the city of Santarém, Brazil, at age 17. My father arranged for me to live with some people he knew, and I began taking a few classes. My work barely paid for the school materials I needed.
During my first year there, the people I lived with asked me to affiliate with their church. I repeatedly refused their request. The third year came, and I still hadn’t joined their church. Then one day they asked me to find another place to live. I was devastated.
The next day I didn’t go to work or to school. I remembered my stepmother’s friend who lived close by and resolved to talk to her.
When I arrived, Maria Jose welcomed me. After I explained my situation, she asked that I go and get my things and come stay at her home. There seemed to be something extraordinary about her kindness.
After a few days, as she was preparing food, she told me that missionaries from her church were coming to eat lunch. Her goodness made me curious about her beliefs.
I spoke with Elder Riggs and Elder Marcio during lunch and set up a time to hear a discussion. By the appointment the next day, I had read the Book of Mormon and prayed about it but hadn’t felt anything unusual. But before the missionaries began, they promised me that if I would open my heart I would know that the things they would teach were true.
They didn’t need to say anything more, because while they spoke I knew by a strong feeling that this was the Church of Jesus Christ. Three weeks later I became a member.
I later served full time in the Brazil Curitiba Mission. I love this gospel and the opportunity I had to do for others the same work those missionaries did for me.
I couldn’t join one church—even when my decision left me homeless. But in finding a home and Christlike friend, I found the true Church of Jesus Christ.

Recently I was running a little late to church and hurried into the chapel during the opening hymn. When I walked into the chapel, I saw that it was fuller than normal. As I looked around at the numerous visitors, I realized two things: it was our ward’s Primary program, and my usual spot was taken.
I hurriedly took a seat on the first row of chairs in the overflow seating just in time to see a young mother arrive with her two-year-old son in tow and her six-month-old daughter in her arms. I noticed that her husband didn’t follow her in. When I glanced around the chapel, I saw that he was on the stand, sitting at the piano—he was the accompanist for the Primary.
Because I am single, I usually sit with a particular friend. But that day my friend was out of town. I thought it might be nice to sit with the young mother and her children instead, so I asked if I could join them. The mother agreed. Throughout the meeting I enjoyed helping with the young boy and listening to the Primary children.
At the end of sacrament meeting, the mother leaned over and said she had prayed for me that morning. I waited for her to elaborate. She said she had prayed that I would be at church and that I would sit with her and help her. She had thought she might not be able to make it through sacrament meeting by herself. I felt overwhelmed that I had answered her simple prayer, offered just that morning.
I know that the Lord loves us more deeply than we can truly comprehend. Witnessing an answer to a simple request taught me a powerful lesson, and I am sure the experience taught this mother as well. When I asked if I could sit with this sister, I wasn’t thinking about being the answer to a prayer—I was just doing what I would want someone to do for me if I were in her situation.
Truly Heavenly Father hears and answers our prayers, even the seemingly small ones.

“This was my grandmother’s mirror,” Mom said. “When I polish this mirror, I try to imagine what Grandma Beatrice saw when she looked into it. Maybe at first she saw a young girl, like you, dreaming of her future.
“I can imagine the light of happiness she saw in her eyes when she looked at her long braids in the mirror before her baptism. Did you know she wasn’t able to be baptized until she was 18 years old?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“And then after her marriage to Grandpa, she had a baby daughter who lived only two days. I imagine the eyes she saw in this mirror then were swollen with tears.
“Many years after that, she would have seen her joyful reflection as she prepared to go to the temple to be sealed to her husband and three children.
“As an older woman, she may have used this mirror to place a hat on her head before going to her Relief Society meetings.
“And finally, as a gray-haired widow, she may have seen the brave determination in her eyes as she lived for many years alone but faithful to the end.”

My husband, Jerry, had been in poor health for several years when he became seminary principal for the wards that met in our meetinghouse. I don’t think anyone knew how difficult it was for him to get up early every morning—especially during the dark, cold winter months—and go to our building. Sometime later, he passed away.
Several years after Jerry’s passing, I was surprised to receive a touching letter from a young woman who had moved away years earlier. She had tucked it into her wedding announcement. The letter read:
“I absolutely adored your husband and was so sad to hear he had passed away. He was the best seminary principal we ever had. Every morning he would wait in between the doors and open them as he wished everyone a good morning. After class, he would open the door again and say, ‘Have a good day at school!’
“I always made sure to say thank you and occasionally tell him how grateful we were to have him. I felt safer with him there.
“He was always so humble, and his kindness was recognized by all. I think my attendance was better because I didn’t want Brother Bergevin waiting in the cold, thinking I was on my way or I was late. He was an incredible man and he will always be remembered.”
I’m sure that Jerry had no idea anyone would still think of him so many years later. Yet this thoughtful young woman still did, and she was kind enough to send me this sweet letter, which I was grateful to receive.

In the Jyväskylä Stake in Finland, members from Lappeenranta Ward took food items to a refuge that houses young adults who have grown up with parents suffering from substance abuse. The food was gratefully welcomed. When he saw bananas and mandarins one young man said, “Many of us haven’t had fruit for years.” When the residents were also given sweets and lemonade, their eyes glistened, and some had tears in them. One of the organisers said, “These young adults have slipped through the net, and they have rarely seen this kind of love.”

Riiiing!
Got to go! I have lots of homework. Thanks for dinner!
But we just barely sat down!
The next day …
I haven’t finished my math homework or my history paper.
I haven’t seen my family very much.
I’m really tired.
I haven’t read the scriptures or prayed in a while.
“We have to forego some good things in order to choose others that are better or best because they develop faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and strengthen our families.”
President Dallin H. Oaks, First Counselor in the First Presidency, Oct. 2007 general conference (Ensign or Liahona, Nov. 2007, 107).
I think I need to make some changes.
Hey! Are you coming to chess club today?
No, not today.
Good move!

There’s a certain surfer in southern California who’s giving the sport a loftier reputation. His name is Jimmy Zimmerman, and it’s well known that this surf team captain is an active priest in the Huntington Beach Fourth Ward.
Jimmy’s coach, quoted in the Los Angeles Times, said that “Zimmerman symbolizes surfing’s future. He’s popular, intelligent, and he’s a young man who doesn’t drink alcohol or smoke.”
Jimmy manages to fit in surf practice every morning at 6:15, after early-morning seminary. But that doesn’t make him too tired to get top grades in honors classes, be elected Homecoming king, and to teach the gospel to his friends. He recently had the privilege of baptizing one of them.

Pornchai Juntratip carefully walks into the room and senses the location of his visitor. He smiles, brings the palms of his hands together, bows his head, and offers the traditional Thai greeting: “Sawat dee khrap.”
Brother Juntratip is a slim, delicate-looking man whose youthful face belies his forty-six years. Visitors sense an ethereal quality about Brother Juntratip, who has been described as “a man without guile, untouched by worldly influences.” A Church translator in his native city of Bangkok, Thailand, Brother Juntratip has achieved much in his life despite losing his sight in his teenage years.
“I was about eight or nine years old when I lost the sight in my right eye. But it wasn’t until I looked through binoculars that I realized I could see only through my left eye. I lost the use of that eye when I was about fourteen years old. Now I can see only the difference between light and dark.”
But having lost the ability to see with his eyes, Brother Juntratip has been able to develop the ability to see with the Spirit.
“I was in my late twenties when I first met the Latter-day Saint missionaries. They were bicycling by the house one day and saw me. They stopped and introduced themselves and asked if I had ever heard of the Church. When I said no, they told me about Joseph Smith and the First Vision.
“From what they told me, I felt that Joseph Smith was a good man who had done nothing wrong. At their suggestion, I knelt and prayed to Heavenly Father to know if what they had told me was true. When I got up from my knees, I had this soft, warm feeling down my spine.”
The elders arranged to come again, this time bringing Braille editions of the Book of Mormon and The Articles of Faith by Elder James E. Talmage—both in English.
But Pornchai says he had been prepared for this moment. His father, a bank clerk, started teaching him English when Pornchai was nine years old. When he was ten, he began working with a tutor. Later, he enrolled in a four-year high school correspondence course offered by a college for the blind in the United States. He had completed the course and received an American high school diploma shortly before the missionaries stopped to talk to him.
“When I look back on those years, I realize that everything fitted into place,” says Brother Juntratip. “Not only was I able to read the books the missionaries gave me, but I think I was also prepared spiritually to receive the gospel message.
“I grew up observing the customs of two religions. Like most Thais, I was raised a Buddhist. My parents, being of Chinese descent, would observe Chinese religious customs, such as the new-year festival, the ancestral festival, and the new-moon festival.
“But I had read of Jesus Christ, and as a small boy—a long, long time ago—I had watched movies in which the Lord was depicted, like The Ten Commandments and The Robe. And I believed in God. I told myself that there must be a God, because if there were no God, who created the universe and all the good and beautiful things in it? There had to be an omnipotent Being.”
Brother Juntratip was baptized on 6 December 1976, at the age of twenty-eight.
By then, his parents had died, but he faced opposition from his two younger brothers. “They were university-trained engineers, and their only religion was materialism. They couldn’t understand what I was doing.”
Three years later, they opposed his decision to attend Brigham Young University—Hawaii Campus. “My brothers were sure I’d fail,” recalls Brother Juntratip, “and they didn’t want the embarrassment of having to bring me home.” To try to keep him from going, his brothers took control of a piece of property his mother had left him. He had planned to sell the property to acquire money for college expenses. But his brothers said they would hold the property so that if he failed, they could sell it and use the money to bring him home.
But Brother Juntratip still went ahead with his plans and enrolled at BYU—Hawaii. He wrote to an airline company asking them to let him fly half-fare. They responded by giving him a free ticket.
Pornchai studied English literature at the university, taping the lectures and also listening to taped versions of the study text. He supported himself by transcribing oral history tapes.
He graduated in December 1983 and then entered BYU at Provo, Utah, for graduate work in English literature. “Because I did well while in college in Hawaii, my brothers let me have the money from the property sale to pay my way to Utah,” says Brother Juntratip. “I had to give so much time to my studies that I couldn’t work to support myself, but luckily I was awarded a scholarship. I received my master’s degree in June 1986 and returned to Thailand.”
For seven months after returning to Thailand, Brother Juntratip taught students in his home. Then he was offered a position as translator for the Church.
“I had been praying that I would find employment that would fit my particular circumstances, and the translation job does that. I translate seminary and institute student manuals into Thai.”
At first, Brother Juntratip hired someone to read the English text to him. He would dictate the Thai translation into a tape recorder, and the tapes would then be transcribed. These last two steps were eliminated when he taught himself to use a Thai-language typewriter. Later, he replaced the typewriter with a computer, making revisions and corrections easier. In addition, he now receives a taped version of the original English text.
Brother Juntratip met his wife, Kwanjai, a couple of years after his return from BYU. She had served a mission in Thailand.
The Juntratips were sealed in the Manila Philippines Temple in June 1990 by the temple president, Floyd Hogan, who had been Kwanjai’s mission president. Their son, Pituporn, was born in August 1991. “His name means patriarchal blessing,” explains Brother Juntratip. “We hope he grows up to be a good missionary like his mother.
“I remember that when the missionaries presented the discussions to me, I felt the gospel message they taught me was true, was good,” he says. “By striving to live my life according to the gospel, I have come to know for a certainty that it is true and it is good.”