Gospel Story Finder

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Do. Not. Cry.
This was the pep talk I recently gave myself the day before my 30th birthday. (It was a melodramatic day, to say the least.) But crying about my birthday is not out of the ordinary for me. I’ve never been a fan of growing up.
(And, in case you’re wondering, my pep talk didn’t work.)
Shocking, really.
I would turn 30, and the world would keep spinning.
So why did I feel like it was about to end?
Well for one, I struggle with anxiety. So there’s that. But I always felt like turning 30 would seal the door to my youth forever. I felt like I hadn’t accomplished enough during my 20s. And after facing challenges during that decade, I was scared of the new responsibilities and trials heading my way (possibly motherhood, a worsening chronic illness, and who knows what else).
As my anxious thoughts spiraled, I said a prayer asking God for comfort, and I started to ponder my past decade of life as a young adult.
What had I accomplished? What had I learned? How had I changed?
And that’s when I focused in on the most important thought that came to mind:
“How did I deepen my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ during this time?”
This changed my perspective.
Being a 20-something-year-old can be a very confusing, heartbreaking, and just plain hard time. Many seem to be thinking the same thing: “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
My early 20s consisted of an ebb and flow of feelings of aimlessness, fear, loneliness, and sometimes even a sense of abandonment from Heavenly Father when my life wasn’t going the way I thought it would.
When I was 24, I felt like I was in the darkest season of my life. But words from Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf struck my soul and triggered the start of a deep change in me.
At a worldwide devotional for young adults, he said:
“When I was your age, I had no idea where my life would take me. I definitely didn’t see any dots connecting in front of me.
“But I did trust God. I listened to the advice of loving family and wise friends, and I took small steps of faith, believing that if I did the best I could in the moment, God would take care of the big picture.
“He did. …
“In Proverbs, we find this great promise: ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths’ [Proverbs 3:5–6].
“I don’t believe there is a question mark at the end of that verse. No, I think there should be an exclamation point!”1
After hearing Elder Uchtdorf’s words at 24, I committed to using this time of life to trust in the Lord.
And, six years later, on the day before I turned 30, I was hit with the profound truth that, despite the melodrama (and the actual, difficult drama) this is what young adulthood has been for me:
Sacred.
We can make young adulthood one of the most sacred seasons of our journey in mortality. It’s a time for discovery, deepening faith, true conversion, and realizing our divine identity and potential.
I can see that as I made choices to seek Jesus Christ and to keep choosing faith (especially when it was difficult), this season helped me start to understand what He has done for me—and continues to do for me.
It’s the season where I’ve had to take responsibility for my testimony.
It’s the season where I received my endowment, cherished my temple covenants, and witnessed the power that comes from attending the temple.
It’s been a season of facing questions and wrestling with Heavenly Father to find answers (even if that answer is to trust Him).
It’s a season where I may not have always recognized the Savior and Heavenly Father in my life but later saw that They were always with me.
It’s been a season of learning that the grace of Jesus Christ can always make up for my sins and imperfections as I turn to Him in humility and sincere repentance (see Ether 12:27).
It’s a season of unknowns and learning to “press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope” (2 Nephi 31:20).
Yes, young adulthood is filled with hardships. I faced stressful college courses, struggles in my career path, the heart-wrenching pains of dating, family difficulties, and other challenges that could have filled up an “end-of-the-world”–themed bingo card.
But I’ve learned that it was these hard moments that gave me an opportunity to cling to truth, choose faith, and seek the healing and enabling power of Jesus Christ—all things that ultimately made this a beautifully sacred time of life. This season is about allowing Him and Heavenly Father to refine us and help us start building the masterpiece of a life we desire.
That doesn’t sound so bad.
With our focus on Jesus Christ, we can make young adulthood—and every year beyond—a sacred space full of hope, triumph, and true joy.
That is what it’s been for me.

(President of the Church from 1951 to 1970)
The McKay family loved music. Each Christmas, President David O. McKay attached jingle bells to his horses and took his grandchildren on a sleigh ride around town. After sledding through the snow, they would sing carols around the family’s piano. Once, while President McKay was working at the Church Administration Building, he was surprised by a different group of carolers—165 Primary children who had come to sing Christmas songs for him! President McKay appreciated their musical gift, especially when he learned they had given up their annual Christmas party to make the trip.

When I was assigned to home teach a sister whom I shall call Ruth Elliott, she was new in the ward. I wanted to learn a little about her before I first called at her home, so I talked with her former bishop, with her daughter who lived in another ward, and with others who knew her.
Sister Elliott lived alone in a small apartment that was furnished with a broken-down upholstered chair. She spent most of her time in that chair—or in bed. She seldom left the apartment and had no outside interests.
Sister Elliott smoked and depended heavily on medications. Through the years her doctors had prescribed a number of medicines, and she continued to take many of them. Her appearance, manner, and conversation reflected a bitter attitude toward her life and circumstances. She harbored deep resentment toward her father and others, and an unfortunate incident with a Church member had wounded her deeply. I prayed fervently to know how best to serve this troubled woman.
Shortly after I had been called as her home teacher, an opportunity came. Her landlady was having the apartment painted, and she had asked Sister Elliott to move her furniture outside before the work could be done. Our ward’s high priest group leader and I moved the furniture out and then back in after the paint had dried.
Once, when Sister Elliott was out of town, my wife, Virginia, and I decided to repair the broken-down chair. It had a good frame but needed new padding and fabric. Virginia did an excellent upholstering job on the chair, and we had it back in the apartment before Sister Elliott returned from her trip.
My junior companion and I visited sister Elliott regularly, and Virginia and I also went often to visit, talk about the gospel, and offer a prayer. Gradually, she began to accept and return our friendship, and we became closely involved in each other’s lives.
One spring, when Sister Elliott had to undergo surgery, Virginia and I spent many hours with her. We kept in touch daily, taking her to church, to the doctor’s office, and to the store, and she would telephone us each night before going to bed. She was lonely and needed someone to listen to her.
We were out of town when Sister Elliott had the surgery, but we telephoned her at the hospital and offered words of encouragement. She had received a priesthood blessing and felt that the Lord would watch over her. After her operation, she determined to stop smoking. Before her grandson had left for his mission, he had asked her to give up this habit—and she was able to accomplish the task through the Lord’s help and through her own strong desire to please her grandson.
As the months passed, Sister Elliott made new friends and found outside interests. Her church attendance improved, and she began to pay tithing. At first she did not want to go to tithing settlement, but I asked her to be ready when I stopped to give her a ride to the meetinghouse. Afterward, she radiated happiness. She had paid a full tithing for the first time in her life.
By now, her attitude toward life had changed dramatically. The bitterness was gone, replaced by a humble and contrite spirit. She forgave those who had offended her. And as she increased her tolerance and love for her children, they gradually changed their attitude and behavior toward her.
Sister Elliott eventually moved to a new apartment, furnished it attractively, and made more friends. A new physician helped her overcome her dependency on medication. She learned to rely on the Lord and on her own strength to cope with problems.
The blessings that have come to the “new” Sister Elliott have been many, including participation in the sacred temple ceremonies with her family and friends. I am deeply grateful for my opportunity to serve as her home teacher. Indeed, I loved the “old” Sister Elliott as much as the “new” Sister Elliott—but now I don’t need to feel sad because of her dreary life. Today her life is full and pleasant, enriched by the blessings of gospel living.

We have now been married for 22 years. It hasn’t always been easy. Annie and I have had the normal relationship bumps. There have been difficulties over the years. But because of our commitment to the relationship and a willingness to turn to the Lord for answers, we have grown together. As different situations and questions have arisen, we have been able to turn to the scriptures, the teachings of the prophets, and prayer to find solutions.
The average length of a first marriage that ends in divorce is nine years (in the USA).5 Because Annie and I built our marriage after the manner the Lord has shown us, we beat those odds. I’m glad we didn’t let fear of the world we were raised in stop us. There’s always more work to do, but we are both confident that our marriage will continue to improve through the years to come.

I was blessed with wonderful parents. My mother was a member of the Church, and although my father wasn’t, he still supported us in our Church activities. Growing up, I prayed daily that my father would join the Church.
When I received my patriarchal blessing at age 16, I was promised that I would be an influence in helping my father join the Church. I talked with him about the things I learned in seminary. I told him about the scriptures that state that it is necessary to be baptized and confirmed to enter the kingdom of God (see John 3:5). Tearfully, I told him about the blessings of the temple that would make it possible for us to be together forever.
I attended a small school in Arizona, USA. I had wonderful friends during high school even though I was the only Church member in my class. At the time, President David O. McKay (1873–1970) was the prophet. We often heard his counsel for “every member [to be] a missionary” (see Teachings of Presidents of the Church: David O. McKay [2011], chapter 6). One summer my sister Marilyn and I invited some friends to take the missionary lessons. They took two lessons and were no longer interested. We were disappointed, but it didn’t end our friendships.
I went to college at the end of that summer. During spring semester, I received a letter from my dad. He wrote: “It is my greatest privilege to be the head of a household of wonderful girls. Because of all of your strong testimonies of the gospel and the meetings and interest in other young people last summer, I really started getting interested in the Church. While I was outside the house painting and you and the kids were inside holding those meetings, I was convinced I had been on the outside looking in long enough. I have thanked Heavenly Father many times for your mother and the fact that she was brought up in the Church and for the way she has brought up you girls.”
My father was soon baptized, and a year later our family was sealed for time and eternity in the Mesa Arizona Temple.
Even though none of our friends joined the Church, the most important person in our lives did. We never know how we will be blessed when we follow the counsel of the prophet.

I was in another country not long ago holding a fireside for young adults. During the question-and-answer portion of the meeting, a young brother raised his hand and asked when the Church would provide more financial assistance for young adults to help them become self-reliant. I thought about this for a moment and then felt impressed to ask him if he had served a mission. He replied that he had. I asked him if he had learned to set goals while on his mission, to plan, to exercise faith, and to work diligently. He was good-natured about it and smiled as he replied that he had in fact learned those life skills. I then said to him, “You are an agent, not an object. You have the ability to act and to do whatever it is that you choose to do. You have been taught everything that you need to be successful in life. Now it is up to you to go forward in faith and to act, rather than to sit back and wait to be acted upon.” I hoped that he felt my love for him and that somehow this exchange helped him to reorient his vision for himself.

“Good morning, brothers and sisters,” Michelle Mukund (10) greets the ward as she stands to bear her testimony on fast Sunday.
“Good morning, Michelle,” they answer.
Then Michelle bears witness of Jesus Christ, the gospel, and her love for her family and the Saints. Everyone knows that Michelle isn’t just saying words. She has proven by her actions that she loves the Lord with all her heart, and her neighbor as herself.
She especially loves little children. At church she can often be seen with a baby in her arms. It could be any baby in the ward because she adores them all. Children her own age often come to her for advice—and for comfort, too, because she really listens and really cares.
Michelle is close to her family. She enjoys playing with her two-year-old brother, George, who loves saying prayers and can already bear his testimony. She also has fun with her sister, Maxine (15), who is kind and helpful and a talented artist. She looks up to her grown-up cousins Rejieli Rigamoto and Myra Tiraknoa, who live with the family. Rejieli is a returned missionary and an expert baker. Myra is an excellent cook.
Michelle especially appreciates her father and mother. “I’m very happy that I have parents like Mum and Dad,” she says. “They tell me often that they love me.” Her father, Bal, is a gentle man who makes up funny jokes. If children quarrel, he sometimes says, “An angry man is a hungry man,” and brings them something good to eat. Before long everyone is laughing.
Her mother, Susau, is a happy person who laughs a lot. She is also a good cook, and Michelle especially loves her chicken chop suey and her chicken and chips. Under her mother’s instruction, Michelle is becoming a pretty good cook herself. Her specialty is roti, an Indian dish. (Fiji, a South Pacific nation of many islands, has a large Indian population.)
Sister Mukund says, “Michelle really tries to live a Christlike life. When I’m sad or feel lonely, she always notices. She comes to me and says, ‘Mum, what’s wrong? How can I help you?’ She is always willing to help each of us in the family. She is so trustworthy that I can send her alone to visit friends on other islands. I thank Heavenly Father for giving me this beautiful girl as a daughter.”
“Michelle is self-reliant,” her father says. “She can wash her own clothes, prepare her own meals, do the housework, sew, whatever is needed. She’s a bright girl with a desire to learn, explore, and investigate. She’s very creative. She makes her own greeting cards and gives them away freely. She has a very kind heart and likes to share. If she sees someone who lacks something, she tries to provide it. And if she can’t, she asks if we can help.”
Most of all, Michelle loves Jesus Christ. “I love Him so much, and I know that He loves me, too. I’m happy that He’s my Savior. I know that He died for our sins. He did not want us to suffer, so He suffered instead. When I read about Him blessing the little children in the Book of Mormon, I wish I was one of them. I want to help Him take care of children now.”
Because of her strong desire to help children, Michelle plans on being a school teacher and eventually a principal. When teachers at her school hold a staff meeting during school hours, she is often left in charge of the younger students. They know they can trust her.
Michelle earns excellent grades in school. She not only studies faithfully but prays for help, too. She once prayed hard that she would pass a maths test, because maths was her weakest subject. She scored ninety-four percent, the second highest in the class, and she has since become much more at ease with numbers.
Michelle is not a slave to her studies, however. She also enjoys playing basketball, netball, and volleyball. She is the only LDS student at her school, but she has made good friends there. Her best friend is Neha, a Hindu girl.
At home, one of Michelle’s favorite hobbies is reading. If she isn’t working, she very likely has a book in her hands. She devours storybooks and the Friend. After reading the stories, she does all the puzzles and makes the recipes and the crafts, then shares the results with the family.
Two things that keep the family close are family home evening and scripture study. The family members take turns presenting family home evening lessons. Michelle likes to give lessons about Jesus, the prophets, and things she finds in the Friend. After family home evening, there is a council in which everyone can share complaints, suggestions, or concerns. Scripture study rotates among the different books of scripture. Right now they’re studying the book of Ether in the Book of Mormon. Michelle’s favorite prophet from the scriptures is Nephi, but her favorite of all time is President Hinckley.
Michelle gladly fasts each fast Sunday and pays her tithing each week without prompting. She also loves her Primary teachers and listens carefully to the lessons. She especially looks forward to testimony meeting and is usually the first person to bear testimony after the bishop or a counselor invites the congregation to share their testimonies.
She feels a special bond with the missionaries who work in her area. The Mukund home is a kind of refuge for the missionaries, where they are fed, rested, loved, and helped in the work. The family has a scrapbook full of photos of past elders and sisters, and they receive cards and letters from returned missionaries all over the world.
Not surprisingly, Michelle wants to go on a mission herself someday. She’s practicing by telling her friends about the gospel and inviting them to church. Unfortunately they seldom come. This doesn’t hurt the friendships, but it does sometimes hurt Michelle. Sadly, one friend who did listen with great interest died in a tragic fire. “I was crying,” Michelle says. “I missed her very much. We went to her church service. It was a sad, rainy day, but I prayed, and I felt that I didn’t have to be sad anymore, because I would meet her again. We went to her mom’s house, and her mom was crying. I said, ‘You’ll meet her again in the next life,’ and it seemed to help.”
Michelle’s love for others is not limited by race or culture. Her father is of Indian descent, her mother Fijian, and Michelle loves both of these cultures as well as the others that are represented in Fiji’s islands. She speaks two Indian dialects as well as Fijian and English. Sometimes she becomes sad when she hears of the suffering of people in other lands, but prayer helps her feel better. There is enough room in her heart to love everyone everywhere. No matter who you are or where you live, she loves you, too.

A number of years ago, I was assigned as the first home teacher to a man who had the missionary discussions in our home. He was in his mid-thirties, had lived a life almost devoid of the spirit. He had been through many trials. His wife had left him. He was a heavy drinker and big into drugs. He had no purpose, no meaning, no direction in his life. He had contemplated suicide. He had been recently in a serious accident that had almost killed him. He had been driving under the influence of alcohol and a number of different drugs. One Sunday, after being released from the hospital, and as a last effort to save himself, he walked into one of our chapels. He did so because he had reflected upon the warm feeling he had when he met and lived with a Mormon family for a short time as a teenager. He recalled that there was a special feeling, a special spirit in their home, and he wondered if they had what he needed in his own life.

In my first home teaching visit with him, he asked me if we could meet more often than once a month. He said he wanted to learn and knew he needed to learn so much more and he didn't want to waste any time. I responded, "Sure, how often would you like to meet?" He said that if it wasn't too much to ask, he wanted us to get together once a week to study the gospel together. I gulped a little bit, but agreed to his request. We put together a schedule of topics, committed to prepare for each successive meeting by studying the scriptures and the words of the prophets on that particular topic.

Our second meeting lasted for nearly three hours. He had a hunger that would not quit. He wanted not only to understand the principles of the gospel, but he wanted to know how to apply them in his life the very next day. He would always ask how he could apply each gospel principle in a variety of situations. He worked in a tough neighborhood and owned a business where his employees and customers would regularly try to "rip him off." He wanted to know how to develop and share the pure love of Christ, how to be patient, understanding, and forgiving in a place and with people who lived very differently, and whose values were almost the opposite of what the gospel teaches.

Every single week, for one solid year, we met and studied the gospel this way. This wonderful man, who had a passion for the gospel and for learning to live as his Heavenly Father and Savior would want him to live, pushed me to be what a home teacher really should be. He taught me what it means to be a valiant home teacher. It was so much more than I had ever done, so much more than I had ever really imagined. What a grand blessing he has been in my life and how he helped me to raise my own standards.

The rest of his life was devoted to his new family and the gospel of Jesus Christ, which had rescued him. He gladly gave away his former life as he began to "see" more clearly.

This insight was shared by President Harold B. Lee, "The greatest responsibility that a member of Christ's church has ever had is to become truly converted --- and it is just as important to stay converted...One is converted when he sees with his eyes what he ought to see; when he hears with his ears what he ought to hear; and when he understands with his heart what he ought to understand---then he is converted" (When Your Heart Tells You Things Your Mind Does Not Know, p. 3)

And Elder Neal A. Maxwell shared, "Another measure (of our conversion) is the degree to which we are giving "away all (our) sins" in order to know God better (Alma 22:18). All real disciples believe in and apply the Atonement regularly in their lives, shedding sins and shortcomings along the way ." ( Moving in His Majesty & Power , p. 49)

By these standards, my friend, Cameron Davis, was truly converted and passed from this life into the next as a true disciple of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Jacob latched the gate on the new fence. “Stay, Annie,” he said. “You get this whole big yard. Have fun!”
Jacob had only been in the house long enough to take three bites out of his sandwich when he heard Annie scratching at the door and barking to get into the house. “How did she get out?” he wondered.
He grabbed Annie by her collar and led her back through the open gate. Maybe he hadn’t latched it right before. He pulled the gate shut and carefully pulled the latch into place. “Stay, Annie,” he said again.
“Woof,” Annie said, watching him. Jacob turned to go back into the house, but he looked over his shoulder just in time to see Annie pushing the latch up with her nose and marching through the gate.
“Annie!” Jacob was partly impressed and partly annoyed. “You have to stay in the back.” He took Annie back through the gate. Maybe the dog didn’t remember all the things Jacob’s family had done to make her happy out here. “See, here is your doghouse,” he said. “And here are some of your favorite toys.” Annie picked up her bone and lay down to chew it. “Your water dish and everything you need are right here. I’ll come play with you after I finish my lunch.” But he hadn’t even gotten to the kitchen before he heard Annie barking at the door again.
That night at dinner, Jacob told the story to his family. “So after I put a big bolt through the hole to keep the latch from lifting, I thought for sure that Annie would stay. But she figured out how to pull the bolt out with her teeth. Then she opened the latch and out she came.”
“That dog is too smart for her own good,” Dad remarked.
“So what did you do?” Jacob’s brother Tim asked.
“I put a nut on the bolt,” Jacob said smugly. “Now she can’t pull it out. She’s smart but not as smart as I am.”
The doorbell rang. Jacob jumped up to answer it. He was expecting his friend Ryan to come over, but it wasn’t Ryan at the door. It was a man in uniform with Annie.
“Is this your dog?” the animal-control officer asked. Annie wriggled past Jacob into the house.
Jacob nodded.
Jacob’s mom came up behind him. “Uh-oh,” she said. “We thought Annie was locked in the backyard.”
“She was at large,” the officer said.
“At large?” Jacob asked, puzzled.
“That means loose and uncontrolled,” the officer explained. “We’ve talked to your parents about this before. Your dog has to be secured. That’s the law.”
Jacob remembered that his parents had built the fence because Annie had been in trouble before. She had dashed out of the house when the door had opened and run off down the street.
“She doesn’t mean to be bad,” Jacob said.
“No, but she depends on us who know the rules,” the officer said. “She’s not safe when she’s loose, and neither are the children in the neighborhood. You’ll have to pay the fine.” He handed a ticket to Mom. She wasn’t smiling.
“We’ll figure out how she got out and fix it,” Mom said.
As the officer was leaving, Ryan rode up on his bike. “What’s up?” he asked. “Who got arrested?”
“Ha, ha,” Jacob said. “Actually, Annie did.”
The boys went around to the backyard. Mom and Dad were already there. Dad pointed to an Annie-sized hole under the fence. A pile of dirt on the other side told the story.
Everybody pitched in. Dad and Tim buried big rocks in the most obvious digging spots. Then Jacob and Ryan took logs from the woodpile and laid them along the bottom of the fence where Annie might try to dig. By the time they were finished, it was getting dark.
For two days Annie stayed in the backyard. Jacob was sure the problem was solved. But on Friday, their neighbor Mr. Kopiak called to say that Annie had climbed the woodpile and leaped into his yard over the fence. “She’s OK,” he said, “but I’m surprised she didn’t break a leg.”
“You need to trust me on this,” Jacob said to Annie as he walked her home. “You just don’t realize what’s out there. You could get hurt! You have to stay, Annie.”
That afternoon, Ryan called to invite Jacob to go swimming. “We can bike over to Pizza Village on the way back,” Ryan said.
It was a fun idea, but Jacob knew it would be hard to get permission. The pool was out of his biking territory. Still, Ryan had never invited him to go for pizza before. Jacob felt it was important to their friendship that he say yes. Surely Mom would understand.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Son,” Mom said when he asked her.
“It’s not that far!” Jacob said. He felt angry and frustrated. “Ryan rides his bike all over the place and he’s OK. What could happen?” Jacob was trying not to lose his cool, but he heard his voice getting louder with every syllable. “These rules are stupid!”
Mom looked him right in the eye. “Jacob, you’ll have to trust me. You don’t know what’s out there.”
Jacob felt tingles across the back of his neck. That was the same thing he had said to Annie that very day!
Jacob went to his room to think. He thought about what the animal-control officer had said. He remembered what his dad had said about Annie being so smart. He thought about how much he loved Annie and all the work the family had done to make her safe. He thought about rules, and how much his parents loved him and wanted him to be safe. He thought about the Holy Ghost helping Mom know what to say—the same words he’d told Annie.
After a while, Jacob called Ryan. “I can’t go,” he said. “But if you come over, we can make brownies. Mom says she’ll order pizza to be delivered.”
Ryan happily agreed.

Some time ago, a young man came to my office requesting a blessing. He was about eighteen years of age and had some problems. There were no serious moral problems, but he was mixed up in his thinking and worried. He requested a blessing.
I said to him, “Have you ever asked your father to give you a blessing? Your father is a member of the Church, I assume?”
He said, “Yes, he is an elder, a rather inactive elder.”
When I asked, “Do you love your father?” he replied, “Yes, Brother Benson, he is a good man. I love him.” He then said, “He doesn’t attend to his priesthood duties as he should. He doesn’t go to church regularly, I don’t know that he is a tithe payer, but he is a good man, a good provider, a kind man.”
I said, “How would you like to talk to him at an opportune time and ask him if he would be willing to give you a father’s blessing?”
“Oh,” he said, “I think that would frighten him.”
I then said, “Are you willing to try it? I will be praying for you.”
He said, “All right; on that basis, I will.”
A few days later he came back. He said, “Brother Benson, that’s the sweetest thing that has happened in our family.” He could hardly control his feelings as he told me what had happened. He said, “When the opportunity was right, I mentioned it to Father, and he replied, ‘Son, do you really want me to give you a blessing?’ I told him, ‘Yes, Dad, I would like you to.’” Then he said, “Brother Benson, he gave me one of the most beautiful blessings you could ever ask for. Mother sat there crying all during the blessing. When he got through there was a bond of appreciation and gratitude and love between us that we have never had in our home.”

While living in the East some years ago, I read of an experience that took place on the floor of the United States Senate. As I recall, a debate was taking place. The leader of the debate in one party was Senator Hubert Humphrey of Minnesota. The floor leader for the other party was Senator Margaret Chase Smith of Maine. As time went on, it was clear that Senator Humphrey’s party would win.
On the morning of the vote, Senator Humphrey went out to his garden and cut some red roses. When Margaret Chase Smith arrived at her desk on the senate floor that morning, there was the bouquet of roses. This, of course, did not change Senator Smith’s mind concerning the issues, but it was a gesture of respect and appreciation.

After 50 years, the living posterity of a French Polynesian couple has returned to the Hamilton New Zealand Temple for a glorious anniversary celebration of their parents’ lives and legacy.
In September 2023, fifty years after their first trip to New Zealand, the remaining Mou Tham children and other family members gathered in the Hamilton New Zealand Temple for this incredible anniversary.
“Our family on both sides, my father in New Caledonia and my mother in Raiatea, have unforgettable memories about those times,” Gisele shared. “Being here 50 years later, it’s a wonderful way to thank Heavenly Father for the help He gave us to make that dream come true.”
She said the family is united in gratitude to their parents for the gospel legacy they left, and their example of temple work. “We deeply felt their presence around us, as well as the presence of our beloved ones who are gone.”
“We are aware of the huge responsibility it is to pass on this legacy to our children, grandchildren, and next generations,” Gisele continued to share. “The light our parents started must stay strong. It will guide our steps on the covenant path leading to our celestial home.”
Her brother Gérard, who never returned to Raiatea after working with his father in New Caledonia, adds: “The blessing of this temple sealing 50 years ago is with me every day of my life. It helps me to stay strong in my faith and in the testimony of the true house of the Lord.”
As he attended the temple, he said he also felt his parents’ love there. “I felt their joy to see all their children in the temple so many years after their first visit. I felt Heavenly Father’s love through the Atonement of His Son, Jesus Christ.”
As President Monson pointed out to a worldwide audience, the Mou Tham family is an example of perseverance and faith in the Lord in two island nations. They stand as an example for future generations.

Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles
“As a 12-year-old deacon, I was pleased to accompany the bishop to deliver Christmas baskets to the widows of our ward in Vernal, Utah. The backseat of his car was filled with baskets of grapefruit and oranges. This was during World War II, when grapefruit and oranges were scarce, so they were quite a treat. He waited in the car while I took a basket to each door and said, ‘The bishop asked me to give you this Christmas basket from the ward.’
“When we had delivered all the baskets but one, the bishop drove me home. There he handed me the last basket and said, ‘This is for your mother.’ Before I could reply, he drove away. [Dallin H. Oaks was 7 when his father passed away in June 1940.]
“I stood in front of our house, snowflakes falling on my face, holding the basket and wondering. We had been delivering baskets to widows, but I had never thought of my mother as a widow. I had never heard her refer to herself as a widow. I wondered why anyone would think my mother was a widow.
“That Christmas experience was formative in my understanding of the eternal family and in my appreciation for the faith of my mother. She always taught us that we had a father and she had a husband and that we would always be a family because of their temple marriage. …
“I am grateful for temple marriage and for the assurance that we can be together as an eternal family.”4

Many years ago it was my privilege to provide a blessing to a beautiful 12-year-old young lady, Jami Palmer. She had just been diagnosed with cancer. She learned that her leg where the cancer was would require multiple surgeries. A long-planned hike with her Young Women class up a rugged trail was out of the question, she thought.
Jami told her friends they would have to hike without her. I’m confident there was disappointment in her heart.
But then the other young women responded emphatically, “No, Jami, you are going with us!”
“But I can’t walk,” came the reply.
“Then we’ll carry you to the top!” And they did.
None of those precious young women will ever forget that memorable day when a loving Heavenly Father looked down with a smile of approval and was well pleased.

Photographs by Cody Bell and courtesy of Sydney G.
For an entire week, Sydney G., 14, from Utah, USA, visibly carried a copy of the Book of Mormon everywhere she went—to school, to her extracurricular activities, and to church. She was prayerfully trying to find someone to share the gospel with, and keeping the Book of Mormon out with her was a constant reminder of that goal.
One day, she went to the office at school and accidentally left the book there. Without even opening the cover, the office secretary knew immediately whose it was. That week, Sydney had become known at her school for carrying that Book of Mormon with her. And throughout her life, she’s become known for many other things as well.
For instance, she participates in student council. She dances for her school’s dance company. She was the lead in an Alice in Wonderland musical. She volunteers for a service group. She cheers. She crafts. She loves to spend time with her friends and family.
She’s also a strong advocate of type 1 diabetes awareness and research.
When Sydney was three, her parents noticed changes in her behavior. Among other things, she was extremely thirsty, moody, and fatigued. One day she slept for 22 hours, waking up only for moments before falling back asleep. Her parents knew something was wrong and took her to a doctor the next morning. The doctor said she was on the verge of a diabetic coma and was lucky she came in that day. Sydney and her parents now recognize that the timing was more than luck; it was a blessing.
Sydney’s diagnosis flipped her life upside down, but that hasn’t stopped her from living a life that gives back to others. Despite her age, Sydney is a leader, role model, and friend as she works to help promote diabetes awareness.
What Is Type 1 Diabetes?
Type 1 diabetes is a disease in which the pancreas produces little or no insulin, the hormone that converts glucose into energy. To treat this, people with type 1 diabetes take insulin every time they eat to help their bodies get the energy they need.
If left untreated, diabetes can have serious complications. It’s important to recognize the symptoms and be treated as early as possible. Type 1 diabetes requires constant care and vigilance throughout a person’s entire life.
In 2015, Sydney and her family participated in a fundraising managed by JDRF, an organization that helps fund research for type 1 diabetes. After the walk, Sydney wanted to keep helping. She says, “I was super excited to get out and do stuff, and I wanted to inform people of the symptoms of type 1 diabetes so they would know to get tested.” To do this, she and her mom created a social media page to promote awareness. Their first post included pictures of the walk, and they’ve continued with regular posts debunking myths about diabetes, promoting fundraisers, and showcasing diabetes-related events and activities Sydney participates in.
Sydney knows the impact youth can have in their communities, and she hopes to keep helping those around her. “Young people can make a huge difference,” she says, “and it’s good for them! They get to get out and help the community. It’s just good for the soul.”
She’s already seen some positive results from her efforts. One day, soon after they started the page, Sydney’s mom felt prompted to post Sydney’s diagnosis story. A woman in their neighborhood read the post and then, two days later, recognized the symptoms in her own daughter. As a result of a prompting, this five-year-old girl was able to receive an early diagnosis and get the medical attention she needed.
Sydney knows it’s important to have friends during times of trial, and she always strives to be that friend for people in times of need. When she heard of another young girl in the community who was just diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, Sydney immediately reached out and met with her. The girl’s mother later told Sydney about the great influence she had on her daughter. The daughter had felt alone in her trial because no one else she knew had diabetes. But immediately after Sydney’s visit, she had a friend, and that made all the difference.
Sydney also recognizes the importance of friendship in her own life and strives to include and love others. When she was about to turn 12, she was “probably more excited than anyone to go to the temple for the first time.” So for her birthday party, she invited some friends over to eat a formal dinner and then go to the temple to do baptisms and confirmations on behalf of those who have died. One of her close friends, Lindsay,* wasn’t a member of the Church, but Sydney still wanted to include her. So Sydney invited Lindsay to the birthday dinner with them and explained why the temple was so important to her.
Remember that Book of Mormon that Sydney carried around with her? She felt prompted to give it to Lindsay with her testimony. Though Lindsay respectfully said she didn’t believe in the book, Sydney didn’t focus on the rejection. Instead, Sydney just appreciated the opportunity she had to share her testimony with someone she cares about.
Though she sometimes feels discouraged, Sydney tries to stay positive and move forward in her goal to help others. She says, “I think it’s important to just keep going if you’re having a trial. It helps to focus on something positive. Like, if you fall off your bike, you just get back up and keep going, and soon you’ll forget you even fell off in the first place.”
Every day, Sydney chooses to focus on the positive of her situation by striving to be a leader in her community and a friend to those who need one. She’s learned that the smallest decisions—like deciding one day to go to a fundraiser walk with her family—can make a big difference.

It was a beautiful day, so I decided to ride my bike to the ward barbecue. I wouldn’t be able to stay long because I had cross-country practice. As I was getting ready to go, the idea of taking some peanut butter crackers crossed my mind. How silly, I thought, I’m going to a ward barbecue. I don’t need to take any food.
As I pedaled to the barbecue, I again thought I should’ve packed some peanut butter crackers. Too late now. Soon I was at the park waiting for the food to be ready. I waited and waited and waited. By now my stomach was growling, and I was getting hungrier by the minute. But I couldn’t wait any longer; it was time for practice, and I had to leave. I wished I had those crackers.
When practice was over, I pedaled back to the barbecue, wanting desperately to eat. I made it to the park just as people were driving off. Please let there be food left! I scrambled trying to find leftovers. Hamburgers! Yes, there were some left! I slapped some meat on a bun and devoured my cold burger.
As I took another a bite, I had a new thought: Heavenly Father cares about me. He was trying to send a message that would have helped me. It’s miraculous, really, all the ways we are watched over. To have the Spirit’s guidance is an amazing blessing, even if it’s a simple thought like taking peanut butter crackers.
Angela T., Washington, USA

I got a kite for my birthday. It was fun to see it go up in the sky. Then the wind blew it into a tall tree. My daddy couldn’t get it down, so we prayed that Heavenly Father would help me get my kite back. Every day I went to look at my kite, but it was still in the tree. Several weeks later a big bucket truck came down our street. My mommy saw the truck and asked the men if they could get my kite down. They were happy to. I knew Heavenly Father would answer my prayer. I just had to be patient.

Wilford Woodruff’s family suffered along with the others. In October, while Wilford cut timber, a falling tree struck him and broke some of his ribs. Soon after, his little son Joseph caught a severe cold. Wilford and Phebe attended to the boy constantly, but nothing they did helped, and soon they buried his body in the settlement’s newly plotted cemetery.
Some weeks after Joseph’s death, Phebe delivered a baby prematurely, and the child died two days later. One evening, Wilford came home and found Phebe distraught, looking at a portrait of herself holding Joseph. Losing the children pained them both, and Wilford longed for when the Saints would find a home, live in peace, and enjoy the blessings and safety of Zion.
“I pray my Heavenly Father to lengthen out my days,” he wrote in his journal, “to behold the house of God stand upon the tops of the mountains and to see the standard of liberty reared up as an ensign to the nations.”27

We were on our way to Mammoth Mountain, California, where we planned to enjoy a wonderful week of ski racing and fun in the snow. Just as we were entering Tonapah, Nevada, the driver of the car asked me to take the wheel for a minute. Three of us were in the car. The third member in the back seat grabbed the wheel in a joking manner, turning it almost completely around. The car spun from side to side on the road, finally going off a 10- or 15-foot ledge. I was thrown from the car after it left the road; seconds later the big Travelall rolled over me.
As I hit the ground I turned my head. I don’t know why I did, but I just did. This saved my face from being crushed into the ground. Then I blacked out, but not for long. I remember getting to my feet and standing a few seconds until my friends laid me back on the ground. The only thing I was really worried about was having a broken back because it hurt. It was hard to breathe. I remember thinking that when people die they usually say, “Well, this is it.” I didn’t think “this is it,” but I was sure that dirt and gravel were in my lungs because it was so hard for me to breathe.
I was taken to the tiny Nye Valley hospital where the only patient they had that day was me. Luckily there was a doctor on call. He and the staff cleaned me off, sewed up my cuts, and told me I had a broken back. I was glad it was nothing more serious but felt terrible about not going on to Mammoth Mountain.
Shortly after, two elders who were passing the hospital came in and gave me a blessing. No one had told them to come. They were just going by the hospital and decided to come in and see if they were needed. The two just came up to me and asked me if I wanted a blessing. They didn’t know then, and neither did I, but I had a ruptured spleen that immediately repaired itself or I would have bled to death. The internist who cared for me later said, “This is a very unusual occurrence—a spleen healing itself. In fact, it is almost unheard of.”
The next morning a doctor from my hometown, Provo, Utah, flew in to see me. As soon as he looked at me, he started to give orders, and I was out of that hospital and into a plane in a hurry.
I don’t remember much about the plane ride, but the doctor told me it was a nightmare. He said I blacked out completely two times. The pilot wanted to fly above the storm, but the doctor told him to stay at a lower altitude to keep me alive—the plane did not have a supply of oxygen. An ambulance, oxygen, and my dad were waiting at the Provo airport.
After three weeks of pain, discomfort, discouragement, no food—it wouldn’t stay down—continuous intravenous feeding, being rushed to intensive care and onto an ice bed several times to reduce an extremely high fever, several blood transfusions, and having my back and side punctured to remove the fluid from my lungs, the doctors decided that the only thing left to do was to operate and remove one of my kidneys to try to stop the infection and bleeding.
Members of our ward and many of our friends and relatives fasted and prayed for my recovery. I had many wonderful blessings from my father and the bishop. We all had faith that everything would be all right. I made it through the operation, but my heart was weakened. We also wondered if the remaining kidney, which was also diseased, would take over.
The next week was spent in the intensive care unit with a heart monitor registering every beat. At one time the monitor stopped. I told the nurses to call my mother and tell her that the machine said I had just died and ask if she wanted to come and see me.
I can’t tell you how often and how sincerely I prayed for little things—that the nurse would find a vein that wouldn’t collapse, that I could swallow something that would stay in my stomach, or that my fever would go down without my having to be packed in ice again. These prayers and many others were always answered.
The doctors, three specialists, told me later what was wrong. Besides a broken back, I had three broken ribs that had punctured my lungs. The pressure, the fluid in my lungs, and infection, as well as drugs they had to give me, had injured my heart. I also had had a ruptured spleen, which was healed after my blessing from the elders. One badly diseased kidney was removed, and the other one had infection in it. When my folks asked the operating physician if I would make it, he just shook his head and said, “We can hope. His insides were a mess.” He and the other specialists told us later that by all medical standards I should have died soon after the accident and many times since.
I stayed in the hospital about two months. I lost 50 pounds and was so dizzy that I couldn’t walk without help. I was to have stayed at home and been taught by a tutor. However, I was determined to go to school. With the help of a good friend I was able to do it.
Within a few months the doctors said I was completely well. In fact, after a final examination by the internist, he brought out a large assortment of charts and papers, held them up in the air, and said, “What can I say? You are okay. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. Be careful about contact sports—you have only one kidney—but many, many people live to a very old age with only one kidney. In fact, some people are born with only one. Come back and see me in a year.”
I am grateful to be alive and well. I can do anything I ever did before—ski, play tennis, play basketball, exercise. I am so thankful for dedicated doctors (I hope to be one some day), wonderful, patient nurses, and for well-equipped hospitals; but most of all I thank my Father in heaven for his many blessings to us. I’m especially grateful to be serving the Lord in the Canada Calgary Mission. I know our Father loves and guides us and that he has a mission for each of his children. He does preserve lives for a purpose greater than we realize.

“No one ever believes it will happen to them, and neither did we,” says Kim Dohm, 17. Hurricane warnings come so often here they seem routine. “We evacuated, but we didn’t think much about what we took with us, because we expected to be back in a few days. We thought it was just another false alarm.” It wasn’t. The storm smashed through Kim’s hometown of Slidell, Louisiana. Winds tore roofs from buildings and snapped trees like toothpicks. Rapidly rising water flooded major portions of the city.

“The damage seemed so random,” Kim says. “In the same neighborhood some houses were torn apart, while others were mostly undamaged. The main thing I learned was to prepare for the worst and hope for the best. If you have to evacuate, leave early and plan to be gone for a while.” Her family had to stay away not just for days, but for weeks.