Gospel Story Finder

The bane of my first-grade teacher’s life was my friend Louie. He had what psychologists today might call some kind of an obsessive fixation. He would sit in class and chew his tie until it became wet and stringy. The teacher would scold him.

Louie eventually became a man of substance, and I have learned never to underestimate the potential of a boy to make something of his life, even if he chews his tie.

Here is another experience—an experience of President Joseph F. Smith reported by the late President Charles W. Nibley, which you young elders might ponder to your profit:
“Another incident which I have heard him relate,” says Brother Nibley, speaking about President Joseph F. Smith, who was the president of the Church and father of our late president, Joseph Fielding Smith, “which shows his courage and integrity, occurred when he was returning from his mission to the Sandwich Islands, in the fall of 1857. He came home by way of Los Angeles, by what was called the Southern Route. In that year Johnston’s Army was on the move for Utah, and naturally enough there was much excitement and bitterness of feeling concerning the ‘Mormons.’ In southern California, just after the little train of wagons had traveled only a short distance and made their camp, several anti-‘Mormon’ toughs rode into the camp on horseback, cursing and swearing and threatening what they would do to the ‘Mormons.’ Joseph F. was a little distance from the camp gathering wood for the fire, but he saw that the few members of his own party had cautiously gone into the brush down the creek, out of sight. When he saw that, he told me,” says Brother Nibley, “the thought came into his mind, ‘Shall I run from these fellows? Why should I fear them?’ With that he marched up with his arm full of wood to the campfire where one of the ruffians, still with his pistol in his hand, shouting and cursing about the ‘Mormons,’ in a loud voice said to Joseph F.:
“‘Are you a ‘Mormon?’
“And the answer came straight, ‘Yes, siree; dyed in the wool; true blue, through and through.’
“At that the ruffian grasped him by the hand and said:
“‘Well, you are the ---- ---- pleasantest man I ever met! Shake, young fellow, I am glad to see a man that stands up for his convictions.’” (Joseph F. Smith, Gospel Doctrine, Deseret Book Co., 1939 ed., p. 518.)

It was an early morning in 2008 when my mother woke me up to go to school. I was really happy that morning, but I didn’t know that it would turn into the worst day of my life or the last time I would be with her. I didn’t finish all my classes that day because a friend of our family picked me up and told me that my mom had killed herself. I was only 12 years old.
I thought, “How can I live without my mother?” She was my best friend.
I cried for months. I didn’t like going to school because the other children treated me differently and felt sorry for me. I had no clue what I was supposed to do; I only knew I had to be strong for everyone else.
One day, five or six months after my mom’s death, I was alone in my room by the window, crying, trying to understand what I was here for. Suddenly I heard a voice in my head: “You are my daughter; I won’t let you suffer.” I knew it was God. But it surprised me because I didn’t believe in Him anymore, especially since I felt that it was God who had taken my mother from me. Even though I didn’t know what He meant, I felt safe.
Three years later I went to Rome, Italy, to visit my uncle. He kept telling me about this church he went to. One Sunday, he took me with him. I will always remember walking toward the church’s doors for the first time and feeling the love of Heavenly Father when I went in. It felt like home.
I started going to church every single Sunday and to every activity during the week. I loved being with the youth of the Church. They made me happier. They thought and believed in the same things that I did. Then, after three months, my summer holiday finished and I had to go back to Albania.
When I returned home, I told my dad about the feelings I’d had and how happy I’d felt during those three months going to Church activities. He didn’t like it. He told me he wouldn’t allow me to continue to go to church. So I would have to be patient for the next three years until I turned 18 years old. Then I could decide for myself and be baptized.
During this time I was blessed with so many people who would tell me about what they learned each Sunday at church. One of those people was Stephanie. She’d been living in Italy when my uncle joined the Church, but she had returned to her home in the United States. My uncle thought it would be good for us to write to each other, so I added her as a friend on Facebook.
Even though we’d never met in person, I will always be grateful to her for helping me build my faith and learn more about the gospel of Jesus Christ. She wrote to me almost every Sunday and told me everything she learned in church and then would answer my questions. She was a great friend to me.
Finally, after years of being patient, I was baptized just two days after my 18th birthday. And soon I will share with my mother the happiness I felt that day, because I will be baptized for her. I know she will be proud of the life I have chosen.
I feel blessed by Heavenly Father because He was with me during my entire journey in so many ways. I just had to wait and be patient because He had a plan for me. He’s the one who gave me strength to go through all the challenges I faced. He was always there, helping me be happier.

“We’ll be having a special guest tonight at family home evening,” Dad announced at breakfast.
Daniel looked up in surprise. “Who’s coming over?” he asked.
“Someone you know a lot about,” Mom said. “A person you’ll be excited to meet!”
All day Daniel wondered who was coming to family home evening. Christmas was only a few days away. Maybe the special guest had something to do with Christmas.
Finally, the family gathered in the evening. Dad said, “Tonight Joseph Smith is going to be our special guest. His birthday is on December 23. As a family we’re going to role-play the story of Joseph Smith’s First Vision.”
Everyone collected props and costumes for their assigned roles. Daniel rehearsed his part with Dad while the others practiced with Mom. Soon they were ready.
Little Matthew was excited to play the role of Joseph Smith. Daniel and Elizabeth played Joseph’s family. Mom and Dad pretended to be preachers from different churches.
“Join our church and be saved!”
“No, come with us! We’re right!”
“The Bible says this!”
“But that’s not what it means!”
“Now, how do you think Joseph Smith felt?” Dad asked. “Do you think he might have wondered why the preachers all said different things and who was right?”
Daniel, Matthew, and Elizabeth all agreed that Joseph must have wondered about that.
Then Dad lit a candle. Daniel felt as if he were right there with Joseph Smith as Dad read from James 1:5 by candlelight, “‘If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God.’” Then Dad started reading the story of the First Vision.
Matthew knelt down as if he were praying. Suddenly the light of a flashlight shone brightly on him, and Daniel reverently recited the lines Dad had helped him to memorize: “‘This is My Beloved Son. Hear Him!’” (Joseph Smith—History 1:17).
Dad explained how Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ appeared to Joseph Smith and told him that he should not join any of the churches then on the earth.
“The Lord chose Joseph Smith to be His prophet to restore the true Church of Jesus Christ to the earth,” Dad said. “Joseph faithfully carried out that mission.”
A few days later Daniel’s neighbor Andy came over to play. Daniel was still thinking about family home evening with Joseph Smith.
He turned to Andy and said, “I know a prophet who lived a long time ago—Joseph Smith. Do you know who he is?”
Andy looked puzzled.
“He was the prophet who saw Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ in the First Vision,” Daniel explained. “He helped restore the Church of Jesus Christ.”
Andy listened carefully. Daniel felt happy that he could share what he had learned about Joseph Smith.

Years ago, while a … schoolboy in far-off England, I made acquaintance with an aged sage who placed implicit trust in the … stars … He devoted himself with great energy to instruct me in the mysteries of astrology. I drank at this fountain of error with increasing thirst, and trusted his words with all the power of a child’s simple faith … Before I was ten years old, I had learned to cast the horoscope …
“Among my schoolmates was a big blustering fellow, who ruled … the playground by his great strength. We all acknowledged his supremacy, and paid him tribute of our property … Further, he compelled us to do his arithmetic for him, to draw his maps, and write his essays … If any boy appeared to doubt his authority … a severe beating was applied to bring the rebel to a sense of his duty.
“Worse than this, our oppressor … was the son of a wealthy family, and the teacher favored him …
I consulted the stars, and determined to break the chains that bound us and to set myself and my schoolfellows free … I managed to find from the bully’s sister the date and exact hour of Ben’s birth. With this information I hurried home, and at once proceeded to compute his horoscope. Ah! I might have known it: … He was a son of Saturn, born when the planet was in ill conjunction: it was no wonder then that he was untrustworthy, mean, and cruel. Then I cast the horoscope of the future, and found that at a convenient hour, five o’clock in the afternoon Wednesday, his star would be declining, and mine would be ascending … Surely the day of our deliverance was near at hand: the stars had promised to help me in my dangerous enterprise, and victory was assured. Force should be subdued by the power of superior knowledge.
“So on the morning of the appointed day I confronted the big bully on the playground, and challenged him to meet me that evening at five o’clock, boldly expressing my determination to show him who would be master from that time forth … He laughed loudly and cuffed my ears; but this I bore … for the time of revenge had not yet come … During the day I received many a hearty wish for success …
“At five o’clock we were at the appointed place; a score of boys were there to see that everything was fair. My antagonist was nearly 30 centimeters taller, and fully a stone (14 pounds) heavier than I, but these were trifles I ignored; had I not the happy assurance of the stars that I should win? I made a speech to the burly fellow, telling a few of his many acts of oppression and cruelty, and closed with a … flourish, declaring that henceforth we would be free. This was received with a laugh of derision by my opponent, and the hostilities began.
“The conflict, though fierce, was … brief. I gradually recovered consciousness, and found myself lying on the ground, cheek cut, eyes bruised, nose smashed, a couple of teeth loosened, and a quantity of hair gone. The bully left without a scratch.
“As I slowly walked homeward, I was in an unusually thoughtful state. I began for the first time in my life to have serious doubts about astrology. Amongst my family my appearance created considerable consternation; then my father reminded me of his oft repeated injunctions against fighting; and to impress the lesson firmly upon my mind, he proceeded to illustrate his lecture by hitting me several times with the buckle end of a stout strap.
“This was convincing. My doubts vanished, and with them all my confidence in the horoscope. I knew that astrology was a fraud.”
(James E. Talmage, extracted from an article entitled, “My Study of Astrology,” which appeared in The Contributor in 1893.)

I recently observed from a distance a couple who at one time had faith in Christ but then decided to discard their belief. They were successful in the world, and they found pleasure in their intellect and the rejection of their faith.

All seemed well until the husband, still young and energetic, suddenly fell ill and died. Like an eclipse of the sun, they had blocked the light of the Son, and the result was an eclipse of hope. The wife, in her disbelief, now felt disoriented, painfully unprepared, unable to comfort her children. Her intellect had told her that her life was in perfect order until suddenly she could see no tomorrow. Her despair brought darkness and confusion.

Let me share one more personal experience, if I may, that occurred when I was 20 years old, about the same age as many of you. I was invited by a group of acquaintances to go on a five day river trip here in Idaho. This was a group who had run a number of rivers and there just happened to be an extra opening for this particular trip. I must confess that I gave little thought to what this adventure would actually involve. As I was preparing, my concerns were more focused on coordinating outfits and making sure I had my water proof sun block.

The first touch of reality hit when I saw that our bags were being lashed onto the rafts. It had made sense to me that we put everything in waterproof bags since water from the river might, of course, splash into the boat. It just hadn't occurred to me that anything from inside the boat might go over the edge into the river. This reality was reinforced as we were given gear to wear. First, a super duper extreme life jacket made specifically to turn the wearer face up in the event that she might be knocked unconscious when, not if, but when she was plummeted out of the raft while going through a set of rapids. Added to that was a life belt and a helmet. This was followed by a brief lesson on how to go through the rapids without a boat hands and feet first so that we could push off of rocks as we were being swept down river. Images of sun bathing and leisurely floating along were fast disappearing from my thoughts.

While standing there, trying to reconcile my rather undefined but definitely mild expectations with what was right in front of me, I noticed the leader of our group having an animated conversation with the forest ranger. I moseyed over to see if I could hear what was being said. The forest ranger was trying to discourage our group from beginning our trip. The river was extremely high and, in this case, that meant that it would be more dangerous than usual. In fact, just the day before a man had been killed going over the first falls. There were two bits of very important information for me from the comments I overhead. First, while at that age I was typically game for high adventure experiences, drowning on a river trip was a little higher than I was willing to go. Second was the word falls. No one had mentioned anything about going over a waterfall. In reality, it turned out to be only about 10 feet high, but 10 feet from the security of solid ground off shore looks quite different than 10 feet when you're sitting in a little, flimsy rubber raft while gazing at white water swirling wildly below. After much discussion, and in spite of my concerns, we were finally given permission to go and the river trip began.

After only a brief time on the river, we pulled to the side and hiked up a short distance to see what was ahead of us and to make plans for negotiating the rapids. We first had to go through Ping Pong Alley, so named because the large boulders caused the small rafts to bounce along like little ping pong balls. This was not a particularly dangerous area, but Velvet Falls followed right after. This is where the man had died the day before because his boat had gone over the edge side-ways and had rapidly filled with the backwash of the falls, making it impossible for him to float ahead out of harm=s way. Once through Ping Pong Alley, the critical point was to go over the falls with the raft facing straight on.

There were a few boats ahead of us and we could see them disappearing one by one over the edge. Finally it was our turn and just as we approached the waterfall, our boat was knocked sideways. Terror filled my heart. I wondered what my water logged body would look like in a casket. Would anyone come to my funeral? Fortuitously, just at the critical moment, the person in the middle seat of our raft took the oars and turned us around backwards, but straight. I think I will never forget the feeling, as I looked over the edge of the boat, literally hanging on for dear life to the ropes attached to the sides of the boat as we plummeted over the edge. I'm happy to report that we survived. There was no time to relax, however, because we had to immediately begin bailing out the water which had filled our boat. Then we paddled wildly to get into position for the next rapids. And that's how it was the entire day. Paddle like crazy. Hang on for dear life. Bail. Paddle. Hang on. Bail. By the time we pulled onto shore for the night I was exhausted. My hands and knuckles were bloodied from being knocked around through the rapids. My muscles were sore. I had lost one of my sneakers along the way. It was raining and I was cold. I had never gotten unscared the entire day.

I went up to the leader of the group that night and said, I'm not normally a quitter, but I just can't do this for 4 more days. This is too hard and I can't stay terrified for this long. He was so kind and so understanding and finally he said, You're right. You can't do it. You'll never make it to the end. You should just quit right this minute. But there's a detail you ought to know before making a decision, and it's that there are only two ways out of here. One is on the rafts with our group. The other is to walk out on your own. I looked down at my shoeless foot and up the steeply rising mountains on both sides with no apparent trails anywhere. And immediately I rejected his rejection and determined to ride the river. I finally got the hang of river running and was even able to enjoy the trip. It was still hard work, and my stomach churned with each rapid, but in the end it turned out to be one of the most powerful experiences of my life.

I tell you this story to make two points. Sometimes we are valiant and noble and just refuse to be defeated. Other times we don't give in, not because of any seeming greatness of character on our part, but because there really isn't a viable choice. Regardless, not allowing ourselves to be overcome by despair reaps benefits. We still learn and grow by working through the difficult tasks of life. The second point is that a lot of those difficulties cannot be controlled by us. There are natural laws with resulting consequences, everyone around us has the right to exercise agency, we do not have the power to fix every problem. Life presents us with all kinds of white water rapids and the best we can do is be prepared before they hit, remain as calm as possible when we're in the middle of them, and that may mean relying on a higher power than ours, and then do those things that will give us maximum control afterwards.

Returning from serving in the Thailand Mission, Sister Phonphongrat worked for a publishing company for five years. But then she began to feel that she wanted to do something to serve others more. She applied for a job in the Phanat-Nikhom refugee camp in Cholburi, which prepares refugees from Southeast Asia for a new life. Some of these refugees have sponsors in the United States and need to learn American customs and culture.
“The camp administrator wanted to hire someone who knew the English language well,” she recalls. “When I went for an interview, I told them that my English wasn’t very good, but that I knew about American culture. I said that I wanted the refugees most of all to know that I loved them, that they were important, and that they were children of God. The interviewer looked at me and asked, ‘What are you? A Mormon?’ But I got the job.”
Refugees are not Sister Phonphongrat’s only pupils. She has taught both seminary and institute classes. “As a seminary student I learned the importance of keeping a journal and studying the scriptures,” she recalls. “I always write out the scriptures I want to remember and use them to guide me in my daily life.”
Since her baptism, Sister Phonphongrat has received her temple endowment and patriarchal blessing. Both experiences have been sources of great strength for her. “They are something I can refer to, something I can get strength from. It used to bother me that I wasn’t married, but now I know I have to live the commandments, be active in the Church, and live the gospel principles as best I can. If I do, everything will be all right. I feel I have a work to do.”

Members of BYU’s The Dancers Company, Living Legends, Young Ambassadors, and the International Folk Dance Ensemble had the privilege of performing in the Church’s production of Light of the World during the recent Salt Lake City 2002 Winter Olympic Games. One evening at the conclusion of a special preview for a majority of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, members of the cast awaited with anticipation as the apostles approached the stage. No one instructed even the youngest members of the cast as to how they should act in the presence of these holy men. No one had to. Everyone quickly and quietly sat down. Not a word was spoken. The feelings of the Spirit were very strong and unmistakable. Love, admiration, and respect for these special witnesses of Christ filled the air. All attention was focused on Elder Packer as he addressed us. There was total concentration. No one wanted it to come to an end. When these Brethren finally did leave, the Spirit remained with us. Our behavior had changed in their presence.

I invited a friend to play at my house one day. When her dad came to pick her up, he said that they were from Hermosillo, Mexico. My mom told him, “My brother went on a mission there.” He asked, “Are you Mormon?” When she answered yes, he said, “We are Mormon too.” We invited them to church, but they didn’t come at first. We kept inviting them and visiting them until at last they came. My friend went to class with me. Finally the family became members of our ward, and my friend attends my Primary class. The best part was that I got to see her get baptized a year ago. I felt very happy for her. I like being a missionary and helping my neighbors.

Opposition sometimes led to physical violence. The most prominent such incident in Ohio took place during the night of March 24, 1832, while Joseph Smith and his family were living at the home of John Johnson in Hiram, Ohio. That night a gang of more than two dozen men pulled the Prophet and Sidney Rigdon from their beds, choked them into submission, and dragged them into nearby fields. They scratched the Prophet fiercely with their fingernails, tried to force acid into his mouth, then smeared his naked body with tar and feathers. Elder Rigdon was left delirious from the force of his head bumping against the ground. When the Prophet left a week later on a second visit to Missouri, his antagonists pursued him. He sought protection on a river steamer and completed his trip in safety. Thereafter, he almost continuously required guards to protect him from threats of mobbings and assassination.

Michael G. (right), age 11, from Panama, loves his karate classes and studies hard in school. Once he got to be “principal for a day” at his school because of his good grades.
Michael is already a courageous missionary. When the Church had an information stand at the international fair near his home, Michael and his parents stood at the entrance of the fair, gave people pamphlets about the Church, and invited them to visit the Church’s stand. He also gave a pass-along card to a friend’s family, and the missionaries taught them about the Church. He is looking forward to being a full-time missionary.

After my childhood challenges, I am confident that Heavenly Father knew exactly what I needed to enable me to trust my eternal companion. He placed many steadfast examples of fatherhood in my life. These included my righteous grandfather, who loved the Lord, and a diligent home teacher who—understanding my family’s financial limitations—took me on as a student at his art studio and inspired me to follow in his footsteps professionally. In my young adult life, heavenly healing was also delivered through the unexpected blessing of gaining a righteous stepfather, who was patient with my hesitancy to trust a father figure and who continually showed me kindness.

It was a pretty predictable Father’s Day. My husband had exclaimed over his new tie. There were squeals and hugs from our two little girls. The sacrament meeting speakers had paid tribute to righteous, loving fathers. And, to end this year’s rendition of “I’m So Glad When Daddy Comes Home,” the Primary children had thrown resounding kisses in the general direction of their adoring daddies. We smiled and began filing out of the chapel for our next meeting.
Then I saw Jenny, her face red and wet. Talented, cheerful, faithful Jenny—she was the kind of Laurel every mother hopes her daughters will grow up to be. Why was she crying? Because Jenny’s parents were divorced when she was small. And because hearing about the ideal family hurts when the ideal is what you want the most—and what you don’t have.
Jenny’s tears brought back a flood of memories for me. I remembered trying to make it all the way through the first verse of “Love at Home” (Hymns, 1985, number 294). But every time we hit “Time doth softly, sweetly glide,” my voice would crack—along with my composure. At my house, time rarely glided. It lurched from one emotional blowup to the next. In between, my brother and sisters and I walked on tiptoe, our nerves tightly strung. I guess we thought that if we were careful enough, maybe we could avoid setting off the next explosion. We could never be careful enough. And always the brief sunshine was followed by a terrifying storm of rage that threatened to swallow us up.
At times, the unthinkable fear came to the surface: maybe we would never be an eternal family. Over the years, that fear grew into a terrifying certainty. My clearest, most cherished childhood memory—of being sealed to my parents shortly after we had joined the Church—would ultimately mean nothing.
When my parents were divorced, I was in my twenties. But still I felt like a frightened child. All the happy parts of my past life with my family seemed suddenly canceled out—invalidated—no longer relevant. What joy could the present hold for me or for those I loved? And eternity? I felt eternally orphaned.
As I’ve grown older, understanding and peace have healed some of the wounds in my soul. And one of my greatest desires is to offer some of the peace I’ve found to those of you who are living in turbulent, unhappy families.
“If you aren’t happy, you are doing something wrong.” I’m sure when my Sunday School teacher told us this, he never imagined how I would misinterpret it. I wrote it down and posted it on my mirror, knowing I wasn’t very happy. I cried in my room many nights—out of fear, disappointment, and self-pity. So I began to feel that I must be doing something terribly wrong. Even though I couldn’t exactly pinpoint it, I knew I must have some fatal flaw.
Of course, I wasn’t perfect as a teenager. But now I know that my feelings of unworthiness were not justified. Most of my sorrow came from the choices of others. And their choices were almost completely beyond my control. I was a child in my family. And as a child, I was not responsible for the overall success or failure of my family. Nor was I responsible for my parents’ choices.
The same is true for you. You may have an alcoholic parent or parents who fight or parents who violate the commandments. True, you need to do your best to not be part of the problem, but try not to complicate your situation with false feelings of guilt.
Sometimes making it through a divorce or another kind of family difficulty is a matter of simply hanging on. Hang on to the reality that your Heavenly Father loves you and your family deeply and eternally.
Often, my prayers for my family seemed to go unanswered. Sometimes, the more I prayed, the worse things seemed to get. I didn’t know then that, though the Lord shares our sorrow, he will not force change. But over time, his love can often find a way to bring even greater blessings than we had prayed for. So many of those fervent prayers of long ago have now been answered. And I now know that he has never ceased trying to bless my loved ones.
Hang on to the scriptures that fill you with faith. For example, “Let your hearts be comforted; for all things shall work together for good to them that walk uprightly” (D&C 100:15).
Find music that feeds your spirit. Many nights I found peace by singing to myself hymns and songs about courage and endurance.
If your family’s unhappiness includes abuse—physical, sexual, or emotional—you may need to ask for help. Find an adult—a parent, Church leader, social worker, school counselor, or physician—whom you trust and who will take you seriously. This may be embarrassing and very difficult. But sometimes intervention from outside the family is needed to protect you and other family members.
Hang on to leaders and friends who encourage you and help you keep your faith and standards.
Hang on to your patriarchal blessing and the vision of yourself it gives you. Its promises, however distant they may seem, are real and eternal. The Lord knew all about your present difficulties when he gave those promises, and they will be fulfilled.
Hang on to the reality that you are not alone in your situation. As a teenager, I felt that my family and our problems were unique. When my best friend spent time at my house, I worried that she would notice what I wanted to hide. Not until we were adults did I discover that her family had problems very similar to mine.
Don’t be fooled by appearances. The most confident, witty, and popular of your friends may face problems even greater than yours. Even the most faithful families may have deep challenges. Knowing this can help you break out of the prison of being totally absorbed with your own problems. Let it also prompt you to reach out in love to your friends, even when your own problems seem great.
In times of difficulty, how can we possibly keep a positive attitude? In August 1831, the Prophet Joseph Smith and 10 elders were returning to Kirtland, Ohio, from a missionary journey to Jackson County, Missouri. On the third day of their trip, they had a perilous canoe ride down the Missouri River. They must have been tired and shaken, possibly homesick as well. Then the Lord reassured them with these gentle words: “Be of good cheer, little children; for I am in your midst, and I have not forsaken you” (D&C 61:36).
We, too, can be assured that the Lord will never leave us alone. During my teenage years, I did not always recognize his presence. Now I know that when my way was the most perilous, he was always with me.
We need to know also that our Heavenly Father’s plan of salvation is infinitely more just and merciful than we can possibly comprehend. He will leave nothing undone for the blessing of his children. Truly, there are no eternal orphans in his loving plan.
Although we must live in the present, we can also live for the future. We can live for the day when we can go to the temple to receive greater understanding and blessings than we now enjoy. We can live for the day when we can make a home of our own—a home where we can strive to bring love, peace, and the Spirit. We can also live for the day when we can nurture others as we may not have been nurtured ourselves.
For me, this day has come at last. I know that it can come for you.

The Church’s centers for young adults are not just protecting the rising generation from the temptations of the world—they are also preparing the Church’s present and future leaders to change the world.
As extensions of the institute program, the centers for young adults—which exist primarily in Europe—offer religion classes as well as a place where young adults can gather for activities ranging from cooking dinner to doing homework to playing Ping-Pong to sharing the gospel.
Toward the end of 2003, the initiative for centers for young adults began with four centers opening in Copenhagen, Denmark; and Berlin, Hamburg, and Leipzig, Germany. Elder L. Tom Perry of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles further encouraged the growth of the initiative when President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) called him to preside over the Europe Central Area in 2004.
According to Erik Psota, the current associate area director of seminaries and institutes in Europe, many of today’s priesthood leaders in Europe were under the age of 30 at that time.
“The spiritual impression that came to Elder Perry that the growth of the Church in Europe will come through the 18- to 30-year-olds has had a deep impact on young adults and priesthood leaders at all levels in Europe,” said Brother Psota. Elder Perry’s impression is still relevant to young adults today, he continued, “because it helps them understand their responsibility for the growth of the Church.”
Today, there are more than 140 centers in Europe, with an additional 30 in development. All of them prepare the rising generation to spread the gospel to the world.
The young adult center in Oslo, Norway, is just one of many centers where young adults are learning how to build the kingdom. Take Mathilde Guillaumet, from France. Missionaries began teaching her at a center in Paris in 2009 after Sister Guillaumet’s friend invited her to learn more about the gospel.
Sister Guillaumet was baptized in 2010 and then moved to Norway for a year, where the local center for young adults continued to play a role in her growing testimony.
“The center really was a home away from home. It was definitely more welcoming than my dorm room,” said Sister Guillaumet. “The center’s missionary couple became like parents—wonderful people to come to for comfort and advice. Both in Paris and in Oslo, I have been able to go to the missionary couple to talk about the gospel, which I couldn’t do at home, considering I am the only member in my family.”
Sam Basnet, baptized in 2009, is also the only member in his family. Doing missionary work at the Oslo center helped him to share the gospel with his relatives when he returned to visit them in Nepal. He told them about the priesthood and the Book of Mormon, having already helped the missionaries teach other people the same principles in Oslo.
“My family wanted to feel the way that I was feeling,” said Brother Basnet. “They had seen the difference between ‘Sam-before’ and ‘Sam-after.’ Before, I had no hope. I was not positive. After my baptism, I used to come into the center and everything was higher than before.”
Brother Basnet is not the only one who has felt lifted and motivated by the Spirit in the center. Benjamin Kerr of Scotland has spent the past two summers working in Oslo and sees the center as a place where he remembers what really matters.
“The center is my refuge from the world,” said Brother Kerr. “I definitely feel a peace, a safety, when I am there. I think some of my most encouraging experiences have come from being able to sit in the center, especially at family home evening, and to talk about things that really concern us, things we find difficult. These experiences have reminded me of the importance of the simple principles of the gospel.”

My father, Evan Stevenson, was called to serve in California and Arizona in 1947. Death Valley in California was one of his areas. Within days of his arrival to his mission, his mission president announced that, from that time forward, all ­missionaries would proselyte without purse or scrip. This meant that they moved out of their apartments and sent virtually everything home. They could spend no money. They were instructed to receive meals and lodging from the people they were teaching. At the end of two or three days, they were to find new investigators or contacts both to teach and from whom they might receive meals and lodging. Can you even imagine this? Again, we express our gratitude for the faith and consecration of missionaries who preceded us.

• It looks like a typical professor’s office—windowless, with piles of books and papers. But its occupant, John A. Green, a Brigham Young University professor of French, is anything but typical. In 1981, at a relatively young age, he suffered a stroke that wiped out his memory of both French and English and left him basically paralyzed. Unable to teach, it was assumed he would never return to university life.
But John Green is an extraordinary man. Painstakingly, he began the process of relearning how to read, to walk, and to talk. Within months, he was back in his office, going over his notes, first reviewing, then resuming his research.
In the past few years, Brother Green has completed several carefully-researched volumes on French writer Marcel Schwob. Two of the volumes, part of a planned set of seven, are in print already.
Perhaps most amazing of all, Professor Green has typed every letter of every word of these books with one finger of his left hand. Every weekday, from eight A.M. to five P.M., he works quietly in his office, completing the task he has given himself—a task for which he receives no compensation beyond the disability pay he would still receive if he chose to relax at home.

Rita Jeppeson and her visiting teacher have become good friends as they meet and share gospel conversations. But their visits also include playing word games together, which helps Rita’s aging mind stay sharp. Because her visiting teacher has learned what Rita needs and enjoys, they both look forward to each visit. Rita knows that they are friends and that the visit is not just an obligation. There are so many things sisters can do during a visit, such as taking a walk together or helping a sister with her chores.

Brethren, as you may remember, while speaking this morning I referred to our recent visit to the Caribbean Islands and the wonderful missionary work that has been accomplished in the two short years since we opened up those islands for the preaching of the gospel.
One incident occurred in Santo Domingo that I did not have time to tell you about. I think I should like to relate it to you now.
We held an evening general meeting in Santo Domingo, the capital city of the Dominican Republic. Nearly 1600 souls were present.
About an hour after the close of the general meeting, a busload of one hundred members from the Puerto Plata Branch arrived at the meeting place. They had been delayed because their bus broke down. Under ordinary circumstances, they could have made the trip in about four hours, but they finally arrived after 10:00 p.m. to find the hall dark and empty. Many wept because they were so disappointed. All were converts, some for a few months and others only weeks or days.
Sister Kimball and I had gone to bed after a long and tiring day. Upon learning of the plight of these faithful souls, my secretary knocked on the door of our hotel room and woke us up. He apologized for disturbing us but thought that I would want to know about the late arrivals and perhaps dictate a personal message to them. However, I felt that wouldn’t be good enough and not fair to those who had come so far under such trying circumstances—one hundred people jammed into one bus. I got out of bed and dressed and went downstairs to see the members who had made such an effort only to be disappointed because of engine trouble. The Saints were still weeping as we entered the hall, so I spent more than an hour visiting with them.
They then seemed relieved and satisfied and got back on the bus for the long ride home. They had to get back by morning to go to work and to school. Those good people seemed so appreciative of a brief visit together that I felt we just couldn’t let them down. As I returned to my bed, I did so with a sense of peace and contentment in my soul.

Once I received a text from my Young Women leader that really changed my perspective. My brother had just gotten married and I had posted a few pictures on Instagram. My leader said:
“I’ve been thinking about you. I see comments that people make on your Instagram. They say things like ‘you’re gorgeous,’ and ‘you look so perfect.’ Jill, please remember, NO ONE is perfect, and you don’t have to be.”
Then she talked about the things that really matter and wrote:
“Being ‘gorgeous’ has nothing to do with how you look but with who you are. Look up 1 Samuel 16:7. Don’t pay too much attention to what people say about how you look. Listen to those who care about your heart.”
This was the best advice I have ever received. It made me think about how important it is to remember the things that really matter and to not get consumed with the things that don’t matter. And it also helped me to not let things like people’s comments about my looks affect how I view myself, but instead to listen to the people who care about my heart.