Gospel Story Finder

This time, I would like to humbly add a comparison inspired from an area in the field of my professional preparation. I am referring to the world of civil engineering. From the beginning of my university studies, I dreamed of the day when I would complete the requirements to be qualified to take the class that would teach me how to design buildings and other structures that could then be considered “anti-seismic.”
The day finally arrived for my first class on this subject. The first words from the professor were the following: “You are surely anxious to begin this course and learn how to design anti-seismic structures,” to which many of us eagerly nodded our heads. Then the professor said, “I am sorry to tell you that this is not possible, for I cannot teach you how to design a building that is against, that is ‘anti-’ or that is opposed to, an earthquake. This makes no sense,” he said, “because earthquakes will occur anyway, whether we like it or not.”
Then he added, “What I can teach you is how to design structures that are seismic-resistant, structures that can resist the forces coming from an earthquake, so that the structure remains standing without suffering any serious damage and can then continue offering the service for which it had been conceived.”
The engineer makes the calculations that indicate the dimensions, qualities, and characteristics of the foundations, columns, beams, concrete slabs, and other structural elements being designed. These results are translated into plans and technical specifications, which must be strictly followed by the builder in order for the work to materialize and thus fulfill the purpose for which it was designed and is being built.
Although more than 40 years have passed since that first class in seismic-resistant engineering, I perfectly remember the moment when I began to acquire a deeper, more complete understanding of the vital importance that this concept would be present in the structures that I would design in my future professional life. Not only that, but even more important—that it would be permanently present in the edification of my own life and in those over whom I might exercise a positive influence.

Mark’s sport was volleyball, and he was cut from the freshman team about the same time Matt was cut from the basketball team. Following his brother’s example, he decided not to quit but to work harder. “That’s another common ground we have as brothers; we’ve learned the value of work,” says Mark. And Mark had his work cut out for him. “I’m six feet, one inch, and as a middle blocker, I was up against a senior who is six feet, seven inches.” To compensate, he decided to become one of the best jumpers on the team. Like Matt, he trained incessantly. In fact, they worked out together.

Mark made the team. Then, during his junior year, “The coach told me I probably wasn’t going to get much varsity playing time, so he wanted me to play junior varsity as well. That way I’d get experience instead of just sitting on the bench. It helped a lot. By keeping my form right, I increased my vertical leap, and I got to work on it during actual competition.”

Mark also found another way to contribute. “I wanted to get the rest of the team to be more enthusiastic from the bench,” he says, “so I came up with lots of positive things to say and encouraged everybody to do the same thing.” Guess who won the Selleh award for the varsity volleyball team? The trophies sit side-by-side on a shelf in Matt and Mark’s bedroom.

When I was in sixth grade, my family moved. One of my new friends was not a member of the Church.
One Sunday, my friend called me. He wanted me to come bowling with him and his parents that afternoon. I had only been bowling once before, and I had really liked it. Bowling again would be really fun, especially with my new friend. I immediately went to ask my mom.
“Well,” she said, “it’s Sunday, so I don’t think you should go. But you can make your own decision.”
I was shocked! I thought that she would say no. Instead the choice was all mine. So I chose to go bowling with my friend.
Pretty soon my friend, his parents, and I were at the bowling alley. I did really well! My friend and I had fun. But the whole time, there was a sinking feeling in my stomach. I knew in my heart that my mom was right. I had learned at church and at home that making Sunday a holy day was important. Going bowling with my friend wasn’t the best Sunday activity.
That day, I learned an important lesson. It is good to have fun and be with friends! But choosing to make Sunday special is more important.

The joy of Katya and her family continued to grow. As Katya participated in Personal Progress, she noticed that it focused on the importance of the temple. “There is a whole section dedicated to going to the temple, and I really wanted to get to the temple, but my parents weren’t ready,” she remembers.
Katya was able, however, to attend the temple with her seminary class. She recalls, “I did temple work for the first time. I was really happy, and I wanted to go again. I really wanted my family to go there and be sealed for eternity.”
Katya’s family prepared and finally felt that they were ready to go to the temple. Two years after her first visit to the temple, Katya returned, this time with her family. “I understood that it really is a place where families can become eternal,” Katya says. They were sealed in the Freiberg Germany Temple.

If you’re a seminary student in Gig Harbor, Washington, you decided to find out. Since you can’t go yourself—things like school and work prohibit cross-country travel—you send a teddy bear in your place.
A teddy bear? Absolutely. Gig Harbor seminary students loaded a stuffed bear they named “America” into a box, along with a camera, a journal, and a list of questions. “We just wanted to pretty much find out what it is like to live in different areas,” says Nick Sabin, a senior from Gig Harbor. The students sent the bear to 13 different seminary classes located near Church history sites. They asked its recipients to take pictures and to write back about their experiences in seminary.
The bear’s first stop was a class in Sharon, Vermont, birthplace of the Prophet Joseph Smith. From there it was mailed to seminaries near the Hill Cumorah, the Mormon Battalion muster site, Liberty Jail, and Winter Quarters, among other places.
Nearly a year later, America returned to Gig Harbor with gifts: students who received the bear mailed back souvenirs, including a leaf from the Sacred Grove and stones from the Susquehanna River, where Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery received the Aaronic Priesthood and were baptized. They also sent two rolls of film and a journal filled with messages about attending seminary and living near Church history sites.
Included here are excerpts from the journal.
Editor’s Note:Just a word to the wise—seminaries along the Church history trail were happy to participate in this one-time activity. But you can imagine the burden on their resources and time if they started to receive similar requests from others.

The story is told of a rancher who one Sunday found himself the only person in church. The minister came down from the pulpit and asked him whether or not he should go ahead with the service, and the man replied, “If I go out to feed my sheep, and only one comes, I still feed him!” The minister returned to his pulpit and preached a powerful sermon for over an hour, then came back down to the rancher and asked how he liked it. The man replied, “If I go out to feed my sheep, and only one comes, I sure don’t feed him the whole load!” A wise leader can profit from this counsel and provide the feed where it is needed.

For example, Sarah J. has lived on three continents, learned a new language, and figured out how to navigate through a foreign city with friends, all while still in high school. And she’s not the only one. The New Era asked teens whose parents work in the diplomatic corps or the military, which means they move often, what they’ve learned about the strength the gospel brings in adapting to new places, making friends, and staying close to family members who are away.
These teens agree that one of the challenges they face is frequently moving to new places and meeting new people. But with the help of family and of gospel teachings, they have learned to enjoy the experiences. Sarah, 18, says that keeping an open mind is important. “As soon as my family and I know where we are going, I try to find out about our new ward and the interesting things about our new location,” she says.
Tianna, 15, and Bronson E., 13, live in Italy with their family. While they miss their extended family and friends and find it challenging to go to school where a different language is spoken, they appreciate learning about another culture—which is one way they try to strengthen their education (see For the Strength of Youth [2011], 9–10). Tianna says, “I go to a linguistic high school and am studying five languages.”
Aaron, 16, and Anna A., 14, who are currently in Thailand, have often lived in places where they were the only Church members at their school and the only English-speaking youth in their branch. At school they try to find good friends from other religions (see For the Strength of Youth, 16). They also try to speak some of the new language and are patient as their friends practice speaking English with them. Anna says, “It’s hard to not understand everything being said, so I like to play sports because it’s fun and it doesn’t matter if we don’t speak the same language.”
“As long as you’re trying to make friends and be nice to everyone, people will naturally want to be around you,” says Bryce R., 14, of Virginia. “Be outgoing and willing to try new things, go to Mutual activities, and say hello to others. It also helps to get involved in your quorum or class, which are full of camaraderie and almost instant friendships.”
Attending new wards helps these young men and women appreciate the fellowship of ward members and the worldwide Church. And they understand how you can play a big role in the lives of similar youth. Several youth in Germany know how it feels to be the new kid, and they say including others is important. “It can be hard to adapt, but if one person will be your friend, it feels like a load of bricks is taken off your back,” says Giuliana G., 16. “If you ever want to make a new person’s day, make him or her feel welcome.”
There are many ways to help people feel welcome. Hailey S., 17, says, “Smile. Ask them their names and where they came from. When you talk to people and make them feel included, they will be more social, and you never know—they could become your best friends.” Spencer G., 19, adds, “Ask them about their interests, and introduce them to all the young men and young women.”
Joshua S., 15, in Japan, learned to follow the Spirit and talk to people he meets. “I trust that the Lord will lead me to people who will be good friends. Because of this I have been able to share the gospel and be a good example to my friends,” he says.
Mia, 18, and Lynn L., 16, in Indiana, have moved every two or three years while growing up. They’ve learned a lot during these moves: “We know how it feels to be new to an area, so we look for those who may not be sure of themselves because they are new. Making an effort to fit into a new place is a lot of work. Sometimes we open our arms a little wider and host a party to get to know people.” Mia and Lynn know that their best friends are their family members. “We travel a lot to see each other, and family traditions keep us close.”
One of the hardest challenges for youth comes when a parent is away for an extended period of time because of work, deployment, or divorce. But these teens know that relying on each other and their families gives them strength, and gospel teachings help them feel peace, even during difficult times. Emily S., 17, in Germany, explains that in a military ward people often move in and out, but they become close as a ward family. “We know we can count on the ward family for help,” she says.
Haley G., 18, in Germany, adds, “There are a lot of people in the ward who have been through moves too, so we depend on each other and talk about our stress and worries.”
“Deployments have helped me gain a lot of responsibility; my mom relies on me to help out with chores that my dad usually does and to be a good example to my younger brother,” says Lucion D., 18, in Texas. “My dad gave each of us a journal to write some of the daily things that happen so he can read about what we are doing and see things from our point of view.”
Thanks to modern technology, family members can keep in touch with each other, even across long distances. Cole R., 16, says, “My dad still gives me advice, congratulations, and sometimes a rebuke. When my younger brother and I were advancing in the priesthood, our extended family gathered at our home. My dad was on the computer, watching via video chat. He asked family members to say the prayers. It was a powerful witness that even though we are thousands of miles apart, he is still the patriarch of our home and we are still a family.”
Maddie R., 13, in Virginia, has a “Dad’s box,” where she keeps her father’s letters and pictures. She e-mails him regularly so he doesn’t feel left out. “My dad used to ask me to go on bike rides with him, but I usually said no and didn’t think much about it. But now I would give almost anything to spend time with him,” she says. “I just want people to not take their parents for granted. You never know what will happen. Sometimes my dad is gone for a short time, sometimes he’s gone for a long time, and sometime,” she pauses for a moment, thinking, “it might just be for the rest of my life.”
Cole says, “One of the greatest blessings of the gospel of Jesus Christ is the peace that it brings. Like some of my friends, I could restlessly wonder every night whether I will see my father again. But thanks to the comfort that the plan of salvation brings, I don’t have to worry. I can sleep soundly, knowing that no matter what happens, I will see my dad again. I am so grateful that with the help of my Father in Heaven, I can make it through trying times and know that our family will emerge stronger and closer to Him.”

At the bottom of a blue, topless sky an angry prairie wind slashed at the flanks of a big red-rock mesa and leapt over its rim like a giant ocean wave.
A twelve-year-old Navajo boy was seated against an ancient, gnarled tree that grew out of the split stone at the top of the mesa. He squinted as he carved a figure from a piece of wood. Suddenly a voice called out of the dirt-laden wind, “Billy Walking Horse.”
The boy looked up and saw his grandfather, White Cloud, approaching. “I’m here, Grandfather,” he answered.
White Cloud, his long white hair streaming in the wind, stopped beside the youth. He was Billy’s father’s father. Billy had enjoyed the company of the old man with the claylike face ever since he had come the week before. What Billy had especially enjoyed was the long drive to town with his grandfather in the old pickup truck. White Cloud had sung tribal songs, told stories, and laughed. Billy had missed the sound of laughter in his own home. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever hearing it. What intrigued the boy most, though, was the glow in Grandfather’s eyes. Billy wondered why his father’s eyes didn’t shine like that—or his mother’s.
“What is this you carve, Billy Walking Horse?” the old Indian inquired as he sat down cross-legged beside the boy. Billy held up a carving of a rearing wild stallion. White Cloud took it carefully and regarded it closely. “It looks alive! Who taught you this great skill?”
“No one, Grandfather,” the youth responded. “It’s like something is inside the wood, just waiting for me to let it out. Sometimes it’s a bird or a rabbit or a horse. I just have to whittle it free of the wood around it.”
Grandfather studied the boy and the horse, then said thoughtfully, “This talent you have is a gift from another of your fathers, perhaps a great-great-great-grandfather. It is a gift of love to you.”
Billy looked from the horse to his grandfather and said slowly, “I wish one of them had a gift to give to my father, one that would take away his pain.”
White Cloud sighed. “I, too, have noticed this pain. Such is the lot of many of our people. They are not alone in their suffering. Our forefathers suffered also.”
“But why is life so hard for my father, Grandfather? He’s a good man. It isn’t fair. I don’t understand.”
The old man stood and rested a weathered hand on Billy’s shoulder. “Always remember that heaven is up. It is steeper for some of us than for others. Maybe this is good. It means that some of us will try harder. Then others can take courage from our example, as we must from our fathers.”
White Cloud pointed to the old, gnarled tree that they had been leaning against. “Look. This old tree has not grown without effort. It has cleft that large stone and has become strong. It will stand for a long time—not like a tree that grows in soft earth without struggle and falls in the first little wind. This tree’s roots must be as deep as ours.”
Billy looked into Grandfather’s eyes. “You keep talking about our forefathers. Why? And why is the light I see in your eyes brighter whenever you speak of them?”
White Cloud smiled. “The wish you spoke of, a gift to your father from his fathers? There is such a gift. That is why I came to visit you and your family.”
“What is this gift, Grandfather?” Billy asked excitedly. “Where did you get it?”
The smile in Grandfather’s eye’s grew even brighter.
“The gift is a book, a record written by our forefathers. It was given to me by two young men from far away. I came to share this wonderful book with my family.”
“What book, Grandfather?”
“It is called the Book of Mormon. Its knowledge, its light, is the gift of our fathers to us. It says that they labored diligently to write it for us [2 Ne. 25:23]. It is our book!”
Billy’s eyes widened. “It was really written for us?”
“Yes, Billy Walking Horse—for me, for you, for your mother, for your father,” the old man affirmed. “It is for all our people, whether they be called Bolivians, Indians, Polynesians, or some other name.”
The wind whipped up the side of the mesa again, moaning as it swirled dust across an outcropping of jagged rocks. White Cloud motioned toward the sight. “The Book of Mormon speaks to us as a voice ‘crying … out of the dust’ [Moro. 10:27] to give us strength and courage, hope and confidence.”
“What does it say, this written voice?” Billy asked.
“It speaks of great promises and an even greater destiny that is our sacred birthright if we, like this old tree, master the storm. Great destinies, Billy Walking Horse, require great effort and bring great reward, in this life and the life to come. Our worldwide seed, being one family, shall blossom as the rose. Such is the promise, and so it shall be.”
Billy Walking Horse asked eagerly, “When will you talk to my father about these things, Grandfather? About this voice that cries out of the dust? I want to see the light I see in your eyes and hear the laughter I hear in your heart in his eyes and heart also.”
“You will, Billy Walking Horse. We shall all read this great record, this gift from our fathers—the Book of Mormon—together.”

Three weeks ago I was at a stake conference in the lovely little mountain community of Prescott, Arizona. Following the delightful events of that weekend, a sister silently slipped me a note as she and others came by to shake hands and say good-bye. With some hesitation I share a portion of it with you this morning. Please focus on the doctrine this sister teaches, not the participants in the exchange.
“Dear Elder Holland, thank you for the testimony you bore in this conference of the Savior and His love. Forty-one years ago I prayed earnestly to the Lord and told Him I wished I had lived on earth when the Apostles walked upon it, when there had been a true Church, and when Christ’s voice was still heard. Within a year of that prayer, Heavenly Father sent two LDS missionaries to me, and I found that all those hopes could be realized. Perhaps some hour when you are tired or troubled, this note will help you remember why hearing your voice and shaking your hand is so important to me and to millions just like me. Your sister in love and gratitude, Gloria Clements.”

When I was in the first grade, one of my classmates kept asking if she could copy off of my paper. I said, “Stop trying to copy off my paper. I am trying to work.” Later that day, I told my mom what happened. I said, “She was trying to cheat, and that is the same as lying.” During the school year, I tried to help my classmate with her work because I knew she wouldn’t learn anything by cheating. It made me feel good knowing I had done the right thing.

“Not now, Son, but let me tell you about an experience I had when I was around your age. My friends and I brought our dolls to school every day and played with them at recess. There was one girl, Ellen, who always made fun of us and called us babies. She said she hated dolls. One day there was a school activity at recess, so we couldn’t play with our dolls. When we went to get them after school, all their hair had been cut off and their clothes were torn. We were pretty sure Ellen had done it, because nobody remembered seeing her at the activity. We were ready to cut off her hair and tear her clothes to pieces.”
“Did you do it?”
“She’d gone home already, so we couldn’t do anything that day. My friends walked home with me, and all the way we planned how we’d get even with her the next day. We told my parents what had happened and what we were going to do.” She paused. “I’ll never forget how they looked at me.”
“Kind of like you looked at me?”
“Yes, I suppose so, Josh. Anyhow, Daddy told us the story of Jesus Christ wanting us to forgive seventy times seven, and Mother told us she knew that Ellen didn’t have a doll of her own—or much of anything else—because her dad had been out of work for a long time. She told us that we should take one of our nicest dolls and give it to Ellen and ask her to play with us.
“I didn’t want to do it, and neither did my friends, but after Mother talked to us some more about being an example, we decided to do it. We chose the nicest doll I had left, dressed it in pretty clothes, and took it to school the next morning. Ellen came in looking a little scared, but she came over to us and asked why we babies weren’t playing with our dolls.”
Mom wiped her eyes at the memory before continuing. “She backed away from us when we held out the doll.
“At first, she was suspicious and thought that we were trying to trick her. But when she saw that we meant it, she burst out crying. She told us that she’d never had a doll and that she was very sorry for what she’d done.
“We told her that we forgave her for what she’d done and that we wanted her to play with us from then on. And do you know what, Son?”
“What, Mom?”
“She became one of our very best friends.”

Bella F.: For a religious studies class we went on a trip to a Church meetinghouse, and all the missionaries were there. It was fun. I also thought it was a really good way to choose who my good friends were going to be because you could tell who really respected other people’s religions. They’d say things like, “Oh, so you don’t swear?” And they’d say, “OK, great, I won’t swear around you” and stuff like that. We talked about how we don’t drink coffee and stuff, and they said, “OK, we don’t have to go to coffee shops.” They were just all really respectful.

President James E. Faust, Second Counselor in the First Presidency: “My grandparents have had a great influence on my life. Even though they have been dead for many years, I still feel their confirming love. One grandfather, James Akerley Faust, died before I was born. I knew him only through the stories my grandmother and my parents told about him. However, I feel a strong kinship with him because I am in part what he was. Among other things, he was a cowboy, a rancher, and a postmaster in a small town in central Utah. On one occasion Grandfather took a trip in the winter to Idaho, where he met an acquaintance who had fallen on hard times. It was cold, and Grandfather’s friend had no coat. Grandfather took off his coat and gave it to him.
“This evening I encourage you … to begin to unlock the knowledge of who you really are by learning more about your forebears.”

José Humberto González Garza, 69, a member of the Campestre Ward, serves as patriarch in the Monterrey México Roma Stake and has seen patriarchal blessings change lives. He remembers an older woman who was promised she would be able to serve in the temple. She thought it could not happen because of her age and the distance to a temple. But a temple was later built nearby, and she found joy in serving.

“I feel so satisfied doing my duty,” Brother González says. Because he is partially blind, he uses a cane to help him get around. He also uses a hearing aid. And at times he feels he can’t do as much as he used to. But, he says, “when my children ask me, ‘Are you giving blessings, Dad?’ I tell them, ‘No, I’m receiving blessings.’”

During the next week and a half, our team worked hard to get ready for the regional games. If we won all our games there, we’d be playing three games Friday and two Saturday.
Friday I woke up to a gray, overcast sky. “You don’t think it will rain, do you?” I asked Dad as we drove the hour and a half to Bakersville, where the games were to be played.
“The clouds will just make it nice and cool,” Dad said optimistically.
But Dad was wrong. It rained off and on all Friday and Saturday. Games were delayed and schedules were changed. By late Saturday evening, we were just finishing the semifinal game. At the end of regulation time, our team was tied with the Tunis Tigers. We didn’t give up, though. We hung in there two more innings, neither team able to get the advantage over the other one. Then, with two outs and Bobby Simms on second, I hit a single to right field. The right fielder overthrew the third baseman, and Bobby raced into home to score.
After all the celebrating, the coach gathered us around him. “Well, guys, one more game and we’re regional champs!”
“When do we play?” Chad asked.
“Tomorrow afternoon. The weather’s supposed to be good all day.”
“Tomorrow?” I asked. “Tomorrow’s Sunday.”
Coach Decker shrugged. “It’s too late to play tonight, so it was decided to play Sunday afternoon.”
I felt sick. Nobody else seemed to care that we were going to be playing on Sunday.
“The game starts at 2:00 P.M.” Coach said. “I’d like you here no later than noon. That will give us some time to warm up and get ready for the game. Any questions?” He looked around. I just stood there, feeling sick inside.
As the group broke up, Coach Decker slapped me on the back. “Don’t look so glum, Marcus. We’re one game from the championship! You’re not nervous, are you? You’re going to pitch us to the championship.”
“Do we have to play on a Sunday?”
Coach Decker laughed. “No, Marcus, we get to play on Sunday.”
“I have church tomorrow,” I said quietly.
“Church?” Coach’s smile began to fade. “Marcus, this is the championship. You can go to church any Sunday. But this is the only time you’re ever going to play this game. Now you head home and get a good night’s sleep.”
Slowly I turned and headed to where Mom and Dad were waiting for me on the bleachers. Looking at their faces, I knew that they had heard about the Sunday game. They waited for me to speak. I was quiet until we got to the car.
“Church starts at 8:30,” I remarked. “It’ll be over at 11:30.” I wet my lips. “I’d be a little late getting here for the warm-ups and all, but we could still go to church. I’d be able to give my talk in Primary.”
Mom and Dad were quiet for a moment. Then Dad said, “Do you feel good about that?”
“Dad, I didn’t plan for this game to be on Sunday. That’s just the way things turned out. If it only hadn’t rained these last two days, we’d have played the championship game tonight. I have to pitch in that game. The team’s depending on me. We’ll lose if I don’t. Tony’s the backup pitcher, and he just can’t do the job. I just have to play.”
“It’s a tough decision,” Mom commented, looking out the car window as we headed for home. “You have to make sure you do the right thing.”
“I’ll be going to church,” I argued. “Isn’t that what Sundays are for?”
“Is that the only thing Sundays are for?” Dad questioned gently.
“That’s the main thing.”
Dad took a deep breath. “The Lord has asked us to keep His day holy. We’re to worship Him. Not just when we’re at church, but all day. It’s a day of rest from our labors.”
“Playing this game isn’t work. It’s play.”
“Marcus, as a family we’ve always been careful about what we do on the Sabbath, haven’t we?”
I nodded slowly.
“Sunday has always been a special day for us. That’s the way the Lord intended it to be. That’s why we don’t go to movies or shop on Sundays. We’re careful to not do some of the things that we do on other days of the week.”
“But I can’t play this game any other day of the week. I would if I could, but I can’t. Do you think it’s fair that I let Coach Decker and the other guys on the team down? I owe them something.”
“Do you owe the Lord anything? You made a commitment when you were baptized to obey His commandments. That was long before you ever agreed to pitch for the Chiefs.”
“But, Dad—”
“Marcus,” Dad cut me off, holding up his hand. “I’m not going to tell you that you can’t play tomorrow. This will be a decision that you make. But you need to think about what you’re doing.”
“It’s just going to be one time, Dad. One time can’t hurt. Besides, the Lord has helped me get as far as I have this season. That’s what I was going to say in my Primary talk. Did He help me all this time just so I could sit home and not play in the biggest game of the season?”
“Marcus,” Dad spoke again, “do you know what a covenant is?”
“Isn’t it like a promise?”
“That’s right. But it’s a special promise between you and the Lord. Did you know that keeping the Sabbath holy is part of the covenant you made at baptism? The Lord has asked us to keep the Sabbath holy. How well we do it shows how faithful we are at keeping His commandments. And He has covenanted that He will bless us if we keep His Sabbath holy.”
“But I’ve kept the Sabbath holy,” I argued again. “This is just one time.”
“Maybe this is the time the Lord is testing you to see how faithful you will be. Was it easy to keep the Sabbath holy last week?”
“Yes. It was just like any other Sunday.”
“So if the Lord really wanted to know how obedient you are, which Sunday would show Him that, last week or tomorrow?”
We didn’t say anything the rest of the way home. I did a lot of thinking, though. I thought about the other guys. I thought about Coach. I thought about the championship trophy.
Then I started thinking about the Lord, my family, Bishop Peterson, and everyone else who was depending on me to make the right decision. I thought of the things the Lord had given me. He hadn’t ever asked for much in return. Now it was my turn to give something back. I thought of what I could offer Him. Deep inside I knew He wouldn’t care much about my giving Him a championship trophy. The only thing I could really give the Lord was the way I lived my life—show Him that He could count on me, no matter what.
I offered a silent prayer, asking the Lord to help me know what to do and to have the courage to do it. It was funny, but after that prayer, there was no question in my mind.
“I’ll need to call Coach Decker,” I said quietly as we pulled into the driveway at home.
“Do you want me to talk to him?” Dad asked.
In a way I did, yet I knew that that wouldn’t be right. “No,” I answered softly, “I want him to know that this is my decision.” Looking at Mom, I added, “And I think I’m going to change my talk for Primary tomorrow. I think I’d like to talk about keeping the Sabbath holy.”

My family joined the Church when I was seven years old, and it was because of my reading and valuing the Liahona that I met my husband.
When I receive the monthly issue of the magazine, I take it with me everywhere so I can read it. One day I was calmly reading it on the bus to work when a young man stopped at my side and asked, “Are you a member of the Church?” I didn’t quite trust him, so I answered yes, then asked him what stake he belonged to. (I assumed if he wasn’t a member he wouldn’t know what a stake was.) He told me the name of his stake, and we talked until we got off the bus.
Some time after this, a regional choir was organized to prepare for the visit of the prophet. That was when this young man and I started to see each other more frequently. Later we were married and went to the Guatemala City temple to be sealed. We’ve been married for almost three years. The gospel has given me the opportunity to have a very special husband, who is faithful in the Church. I am very happy to have the gospel in my life.Rebeca Sierra de Zelaya, Fraternidad Ward, Tegucigalpa Honduras Stake

I went to a conference in President Rex Reeve’s stake. He took me through the building and showed me 2,000 chairs prepared for the people. I asked him how he knew there would be 2,000 people present, and he answered, “We sent the home teachers out to invite everyone to come, and they have given us their report. They have informed us that 2,000 people will be here tomorrow.” Evidently the word got out that I would be one of the speakers because seventy-five of those 2,000 didn’t show up. But they had an attendance of 49 percent and it has since grown much higher.

On November 1, 1857, Elder George A. Smith delivered a memorable discourse, which included this old Chinese fable:
“A man travelling through the country came to a large city, very rich and splendid; he looked at it and said to his guide, ‘This must be a very righteous people, for I can only see but one little devil in this great city.’
“The guide replied, ‘You do not understand, sir. This city is so perfectly given up to wickedness … that it requires but one devil to keep them all in subjection.’
“Travelling on a little farther, he came to a rugged path and saw an old man trying to get up the hill side, surrounded by seven great, big, coarse-looking devils.
“‘Why,’ says the traveller, ‘this must be a tremendously wicked old man! See how many devils there are around him!’
“‘This,’ replied the guide, ‘is the only righteous man in the country; and there are seven of the biggest devils trying to turn him out of his path, and they all cannot do it.’” (Journal of Discourses, 5:363–64.)
After relating the fable, Elder Smith added that “the devil has the world so perfectly at his disposal that it requires few devils to keep it in subjection” and that “the whole legion of devils has nothing to do but look after the ‘Mormons’ and stir up the hearts of the children of men to destroy them—to put them out of existence.” (Journal of Discourses, 5:364.)

When I was 10, my mother moved us from New York to Utah, away from my father and the rest of our extended family. What was meant to be the two of us quickly became just me, as I rarely saw my mom due to her extensive work hours.
I grew accustomed to being alone. Although I was sometimes lonely, I often preferred solitude to my mom’s company. Behind closed doors, she was very controlling, and her emotions were unstable due to mental illness. I did my best to avoid upsetting her. She often had sporadic outbursts of anger where I endured harsh yelling and hurtful words.
During this time, church and seminary were places of refuge. I looked forward to those moments where I felt the Spirit, because they sustained me the rest of the week.
At times, my mom’s words challenged my faith. She was supposed to teach me what was right. But if I was doing what was right, then why was I suffering?
The Spirit reminded me that the gospel is perfect but people are imperfect. I couldn’t let her influence my thoughts and testimony of the gospel. Even so, I let my doubts get the better of me for a time.
When I went to college, I wondered what would happen if I stopped going to church, reading my scriptures, or praying. It was the worst experiment of my life! After two months, I felt like Heavenly Father was telling me, “Never do that again!” Feeling the light of the gospel return to my life really helped me realize how much Christ had been with me through my difficult, lonely childhood.
As I strengthened my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, I realized that things with my mom needed to change. I knew then that He had been with me throughout my childhood and that He would be with me as I tried to mend my heart and forgive my mom.
My mom and I decided to attend counseling, but she soon stopped coming. Once again, I was left alone, wondering if she even cared about me. But once again, Christ did not leave me alone.
As I continued to attend, He helped me change my expectations for my mom. I knew that I couldn’t change her, but I could forgive her while establishing boundaries to protect myself from further harm.
Elder Gerrit W. Gong of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said: “When hurt and pain are deep, repairing our relationships and healing our hearts is hard, perhaps impossible for us on our own. But heaven can give us strength and wisdom beyond our own to know when to hold on and how to let go.”
By far the most important part of my healing has been putting the Savior first in my life. I try to keep myself as close to Him as possible, and I’ve seen how strong His power really is.
To me, true happiness is a relationship with Jesus Christ. He can bring light and joy to even the darkest of places.
And, to my surprise, happiness is now also family. I’m married and have a daughter of my own, and I do all I can to be a good example to her and to help her feel the power of Christ in her life. Although my family relationships used to be a source of pain, Christ has helped me realize that I can have happiness in my family when He is part of it.
Elder L. Tom Perry (1922-2015) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught, “Family is the center of life and is the key to eternal happiness.”
If you are currently experiencing hardship in your family or are trying to heal, lean on Christ. He’s the only person who truly understands, and He can help you forgive, heal, and know how to move forward with those relationships.
As you build a relationship with Christ, He will be your foundation.

I’m nine years old and in the third grade. I love gymnastics, and last January I had worked hard preparing for a gymnastics exhibition. But as I sat and shivered through the evening, I realized that I was too sick to perform any of my routines.
Then things just got worse.
When I got over the flu, I came down with a disease that made my joints swell up so much I couldn’t walk. Big purple bruises covered my legs. I couldn’t do any gymnastics. I couldn’t even go to school.
Every day Mom went to my school and collected all the work I missed from my teacher. I sat at home all day and worked on it. Sometimes writing made blood vessels in my hands burst into new bruises. I really tried hard not to complain. Mom tried to cheer me up by telling me I was getting good at sewing and reading and other “sitting still” kinds of things. I’m not the “sitting still” type, though, and week after week of not moving around was really tough.
My 14-year-old sister, Jeanne, has a New Era poster in her room of a baby chick trying to crack out of an egg. The words say, “Adversity can make you strong.” I wasn’t sure what adversity meant, but I was sure that I was having plenty of it. I felt just like that little chick that couldn’t crack out of the egg.
It took six weeks for me to get better. Finally I could go back to school and gymnastics. Although I had kept up with my schoolwork, I was out of shape and far behind everybody else in gymnastics.
I knew the first gymnastics competition of the season was in May, and I knew I would have to work really hard to get ready. I did work really hard and was able to compete.
The next big competition was the state meet. My best friend, Natalie, and I did really well at all of our qualifying meets over the summer. We did so well, in fact, that we both qualified in all areas (vault, floor exercise, bars, and beam) to go to the state meet. We were so happy we were practically walking on air!
Then the unthinkable happened. Two weeks before the state meet I broke my ankle. When the doctor told me I wouldn’t be able to compete, I burst into tears. I had worked so hard to make it to state. I felt sorry for myself, and I was miserable. Why did everything always happen to me? I felt like I had a big, sad hole right in the middle of me.
On the day of the state meet, Natalie and her mom came to pick up Jeanne. I knew Natalie was really sad that I couldn’t go, so I tried my best to hold back the tears as I waved good-bye. After they left, I sat on the couch and cried.
When Jeanne got home from the meet, she told me that Natalie had done well and had won two medals. I was happy for her, but I still felt that big, sad hole in my heart.
The next day there was a knock at the door. I grabbed my crutches and hobbled over to answer it. It was Natalie. She was carrying a present for me in a small gift bag.
I opened the bag and pulled something heavy out of the tissue paper. It was one of Natalie’s state medals that she had worked so hard for! On the back was engraved, “To my best friend, Maria.” She said she knew I would have won it if I had been there.
The big, sad hole inside me melted, and I gave Natalie a giant hug. Suddenly the state meet didn’t seem so important. Being friends with Natalie was what was important, and I knew I couldn’t ever have a better friend!
That night when I went to bed, I thanked Heavenly Father for Natalie and for teaching me that love and friendship are more important than winning.