Gospel Story Finder

In addition to Diahann, Brother Cox has introduced the Church to several other young people. “I thought Brother Cox was crazy,” Theresa Matthis said. “He invited me to church. Finally I agreed to come. I always came home happy, but I didn’t let Brother Cox know.”
Theresa’s sister Nicole began attending church with her, and both were baptized. Theresa looks a little differently at the problem of keeping friends after making such a life-changing decision as baptism. She said, “I didn’t lose friends; I gained friends.” Then looking at the group gathered together in a circle, she said, “I gained all of you.”

After years of inactivity, my father abruptly announced one day that we were going back to church. This met with some protest from me. Throughout my childhood I knew only vaguely of the Mormon Church. Basically I knew that there were rules against everything I was currently doing. I viewed the religion as a fanatical organization that demanded self-denial, something that my friends and I didn’t understand and wholly condemned. Besides, what would my friends say if they found out?
Finally my father and I agreed that I would just try going to church for a while and then if I decided against going any more he wouldn’t force me. Sunday came. I sat through sacrament meeting and Sunday School as if I were deaf. Then came Young Women. I sat in the corner of the classroom, arms folded, eyes glaring. (Later I found out that I had actually scared my adviser as much as I had hoped I would.) With that Sunday over I declared I would never go again! In order to avoid going the following Sundays, I claimed I had all kinds of illnesses, from a cold to tonsillitis.
Although I would have denied it at the time, I felt something that first Sunday we went back to church. I felt something from the adviser who really seemed to care about this strange new girl in her class. I felt something, too, from a Latter-day Saint schoolmate who took an interest in my spiritual well-being. From then on, every time I did anything wrong she would remind me that some obscure God was watching my every move. Somehow she convinced me to keep going to church.
Then I met our bishop, a large rancher who seemed too gentle for his intimidating stature. In my first interview with him he asked me to pray. I refused. I knew how to pray, but I couldn’t because I believed God wouldn’t listen to a sinner. The bishop seemed to understand, although I didn’t see how he could because I was sure he had never sinned in his life. But he didn’t condemn me. He seemed to consider me of equal value to all the “saints” in our ward. Feeling so accepted, I continued to attend.
The next couple of months were filled with something I had never felt before. I came to realize that it was the Spirit of the Lord trying to tell me that everything I was hearing and feeling was true. I don’t think I had a testimony at that time. I only knew that I loved my schoolmate and her funny ideas. I loved my Young Women adviser because she loved me. I loved my bishop because he didn’t condemn me. I loved the feeling I had when I was with these people, and I wanted to have that feeling always in my life.

It was one of the first warm days of early spring. The windows of our church were open for the first time that year, and bright, warm sunlight spilled in long rays into the chapel. A small, spring wind came through the windows carrying the fragrances of unseen blossoms. My grandparents and several aunts and uncles were sitting proudly with my parents. I was sitting on the front row of the chapel with the deacons. It was my first time passing the sacrament.
The sacrament hymn ended.
The bishop nodded to us, and in a single motion we stood and walked to the table. The white cloth was removed and carefully folded, and then the prayer was spoken. I felt the importance of the words and the ordinance as I never had before. With my relatives and what seemed like the entire congregation watching me, I tried to move with as much reverence and dignity as I could. I felt a strong feeling of pride to be able to pass the sacrament. It was a great honor. When the meeting was over, nearly everyone in my ward congratulated me.
Several months passed, and in that time, along with the other members of my quorum, I began to forget, a little, the honor of holding the priesthood and of passing the sacrament. We began not to remember what the ordinance stood for. It became a chore. Something we had to do. A job we were given because no one else wanted to do it.
This attitude began to affect the way we performed the ordinance. They were small differences. We were sometimes late for sacrament meeting. Occasionally we didn’t dress as appropriately as we should have. And we talked during the meeting, not loudly and not during the sacrament service, but enough that it was noticed. They were small things, but they took away from the sacredness of the ordinance we were charged with.
The bishop asked our adviser to talk to us about it. Every Sunday morning for weeks he tried to explain to us the importance of what we were doing, of the priesthood of God, and of the ordinance of the sacrament. He told us of the sons of Aaron, of Gethsemane, and Calvary. He was an older man, and we could tell he felt strongly about the things he was telling us. We would straighten up a little. Then a few Sundays would pass, and we would slip back again.
One Sunday after our priesthood class had ended, our adviser stopped us.
“You don’t have to worry about the sacrament today,” he said. “It’s been taken care of.”
We were surprised and curious, but we were also glad to get out of the job, even if it was just for one day. We came into the meeting late as usual, during the hymn, and sat on a middle row. Sitting on the deacons bench with our adviser were the high priests of our ward. They were the oldest and most respected men in our ward. Two of them had been bishops, one a stake president. All held or had held positions of honor and leadership. The hymn ended. They rose, and the prayer was said.
By their bearing and by their reverence it was easy to see they felt great respect and honor for what they were doing. It was no menial task for them. They were all dressed in dark suits, white shirts, and ties. But it was more than the way they were dressed or even the way they carried themselves in performing the ordinance. The congregation was silent. The sacrament became something deeply felt and sacred. There was something deeper, something much more significant. There was a spirit to it. A feeling deeper than words.
The windows in the chapel were open that Sunday. It was late fall, and the fragrance of fall came in through the windows. I could see patches of a blue sky. Leaves were falling from the trees. I was humbled. Passing the sacrament wasn’t a job no one else wanted. It was a job I had been given as a sacred trust. It was the greatest of honors.

Illustrations by Natalie Hoopes
Ashley looked in the pet store window.
“Which kitten would you like?” Mom asked.
Ashley saw black kittens and striped kittens. Then she saw a gray kitten behind the others. He was so small. Ashley knew which one she wanted.
Mom and Ashley brought the gray kitten home. “What will you name him?” Mom asked.
Ashley watched him run.
“He’s so fast,” she said. “I’ll call him Speedy.”
Ashley took good care of Speedy. She gave him food and played with him every day.
Speedy liked to run outside. He chased bugs. He jumped in the grass.
One day Ashley went to the backyard. “Speedy!” she called. Speedy did not come. “Speedy!” she called louder. Speedy still did not come.
“Oh no! Speedy is lost,” Ashley said. She told Mom.
Mom and Ashley walked all around looking for Speedy. But they couldn’t find him.
Ashley started to cry. “I’m worried about Speedy.”
“Speedy will be OK,” said Mom.
“Can we say a prayer?” Ashley asked.
“Yes,” Mom said. “That’s a good idea.”
Ashley prayed for Heavenly Father to keep Speedy safe.
The next day Ashley still felt sad. Dad gave Ashley a hug.
“Maybe Speedy will be here when we get home from church.”
When the family got out of the car in the church parking lot, Ashley heard a soft sound. Meow, meow, meow.
Ashley’s eyes got big. “Speedy!” she called. He was high up in a tree by the car. Dad got Speedy down. Ashley held her kitten tight. “I’m so glad you are safe!”

I have permission to tell you the story of a young man who grew up in our community. He was not a member of the Church. He and his parents were active in another faith.

He recalls that when he was growing up, some of his LDS associates belittled him, made him feel out of place, and poked fun at him.

He came to literally hate this Church and its people. He saw no good in any of them.

Then his father lost his employment and had to move. In the new location, at the age of 17, he was able to enroll in college. There, for the first time in his life, he felt the warmth of friends, one of whom, named Richard, asked him to join a club of which he was president. He writes: “For the first time in my life someone wanted me around. I didn’t know how to react, but thankfully I joined. … It was a feeling that I loved, the feeling of having a friend. I had prayed for one my whole life. And now after 17 years of waiting, God answered that prayer.”

At the age of 19 he found himself as a tent partner with Richard during their summer employment. He noticed Richard reading a book every night. He asked what he was reading. He was told that he was reading the Book of Mormon. He adds: “I quickly changed the subject and went to bed. After all, that is the book that ruined my childhood. I tried forgetting about it, but a week went by and I couldn’t sleep. Why was he reading it every night? I soon couldn’t stand the unanswered questions in my head. So one night I asked him what was so important in that book. What was in it? He handed me the book. I quickly stated that I never wanted to touch the book. I just wanted to know what was in there. He started to read where he had stopped. He read about Jesus and about an appearance in the Americas. I was shocked. I didn’t think that the Mormons believed in Jesus.”

Richard asked him to sing in a stake conference choir with him. The day came and the conference started. “Elder Gary J. Coleman from the First Quorum of the Seventy was the guest speaker. I found out during the conference that he also [was a convert]. At the end Richard proceeded to pull me by the arm up to talk to him. I finally agreed, and as I was approaching him he turned and smiled at me. I introduced myself and said that I wasn’t a member and that I had just come to sing in the choir. He smiled and said he was happy that I was there and stated that the music was great. I asked him how he knew the Church was true. He told me a short version of his testimony and asked if I had read the Book of Mormon. I said no. He promised me that the first time I read it, I would feel the Spirit.”

On a subsequent occasion this young man and his friend were traveling. Richard handed him a Book of Mormon and asked that he read it aloud. He did so, and suddenly the inspiration of the Holy Spirit touched him.

Time passed and his faith increased. He agreed to be baptized. His parents opposed him, but he went forward and was baptized a member of this Church.

His testimony continues to strengthen. Only a few weeks ago he was married to a beautiful Latter-day Saint girl for time and eternity in the Salt Lake Temple. Elder Gary J. Coleman performed his sealing.

Some years ago I was on a board of directors with a fine man who had been extremely successful in life. I was impressed with his integrity and his loyalty to the Church. I learned that he had gained a testimony and had joined the Church because of seminary. When he married, his wife had been a lifelong member of the Church. He belonged to no church. Through the years and despite her efforts, he showed no interest in attending church with his wife and children. And then he began driving two of his daughters to early-morning seminary. He would remain in the car while they had their class, and then he would drive them to school. One day it was raining, and one of his daughters said, “Come in, Dad. You can sit in the hall.” He accepted the invitation. The door to the classroom was open, and he began to listen. His heart was touched. For the rest of that school year, he attended seminary with his daughters, which led eventually to his membership and a lifetime of activity in the Church. Let seminary help build and strengthen your testimony.

When two-year-old Clayton overheard the family sharing feelings about his grandmother serving in Swaziland, Africa, his little heart was touched. Often he would fold his arms, bow his head, and say, “Gam-ma on mission. Jesus. Amen.” When she returned, he did not recognize her until she said, “This is your missionary grandma.” Instantly he broke into a smile, ran, and threw his arms around her. Each grandchild now wants to be a missionary.

When I was about 10, I made my first attempt to read the Book of Mormon. The first part was easy-flowing New Testament language. Then I came to the writings of the Old Testament prophet Isaiah. I could not understand them; I found them difficult to read. I laid the book aside.
I made other attempts to read the Book of Mormon. I did not read it all until I was on a troop ship with other bomber crew members, headed for the war in the Pacific. I determined that I would read the Book of Mormon and find out for myself whether it is true or not. Carefully I read and reread the book. I tested the promise that it contained. That was a life-changing event. After that, I never set the book aside.

My husband’s only sister, Eveline, was not a member of the Church and had been writing to us about serious family problems. We worried about her depression and about our helplessness in coming to her aid.
I began to pray for her, and Peter and I went to the temple, seeking inspiration. My heart sought direction: How could I help my sister-in-law? The answer came from the Spirit: Write to Eveline about the Book of Mormon, bear your testimony, and send the missionaries to her house.
Peter remained hesitant about sending the missionaries, but I knew that it was what the Lord wanted me to do. I composed my letter the next morning and mailed it.
A few days went by with no response from Eveline. I began worrying and fretting. She had been offended, I told myself; she had hated the letter. I became so afraid of her response that I asked Peter to call her. She shared her story over the phone.
The day my letter arrived had been an especially bad one for Eveline. The problems weighing her down had seemed overwhelming, and a television show she was watching about depression and suicide didn’t ease her turmoil. She finally found relief when her son came home from school for lunch. He brought in the mail, which included my letter.
As Eveline began to read, the Spirit touched her soul. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She had been praying for someone or something to help her in these hard times, but she hadn’t known whether her prayers were being heard. Now, through this letter, she knew that her Heavenly Father really cared about her. She was overjoyed.
She told me that the peace she felt from the Spirit was so overwhelming that she didn’t know what to do or how to respond to my letter. I then challenged her to begin a daily study of the Book of Mormon, which she proceeded to do. One week later I telephoned Church leaders in the city where she lived and asked that missionaries be sent to her home.
Through her study of the Book of Mormon, and with the help of a wonderful missionary couple, Eveline found her life changing. She absorbed the missionary discussions, began living the Word of Wisdom, and noticed her marriage improve. She began to feel at peace with herself.
That happiness spilled over and affected the lives of her family. Of course, Eveline’s daily problems hadn’t disappeared. But her perspective had changed. With Christ at the center of her life, she became a new woman.
Peter never thought he would see the day when he would have the opportunity to baptize and confirm his only sister. Giving such a priceless gift to one we love so much has brought us joy beyond our expectations. The Book of Mormon was the answer.

Spending time with my family is always a cherished experience for me. Because I work as a railroad engineer, my schedule is unpredictable. Occasionally I am transferred to distant locations and become temporarily separated from my wife and children. During these times, I see them only a few days each week—and only after a lengthy drive home.
Once, my wife, Scarlett, and our sons traveled to visit me during one of my breaks. Our sons enjoyed sleeping in a motel room and eating at restaurants. This trip became a vacation for them. This refreshing reunion passed quickly, and before too long we were hugging and saying good-bye. Glancing in my rearview mirror, I saw Scarlett’s car disappear from view as we got on opposite on-ramps to the freeway. I was traveling back to the railroad, and Scarlett was taking our children home.
I smiled as I thought about my family and decided to call Scarlett to thank her again for coming to visit me. I reached for my cell phone in my coat pocket, but it was not there. After an unsuccessful search, I realized that the phone must have been put in Scarlett’s car by accident.
I used my cell phone to keep in touch with my family, but it was also necessary for my work. My wife and I had been driving in separate directions for 10 minutes, but I knew I had to retrieve my phone. I decided I would dash up to the next overpass, turn back in the opposite direction, and try to catch her. As I prepared to turn around, I seemed to hear a voice say, “Stop!”
I began slowing down, even though each passing moment was making it more difficult to recover my phone.
A second thought came: “Stay here!”
This strong feeling swept over me. Defying logic and reason, I pulled over and turned off the car. I did not know why, but I sensed that I should stay put. As I yielded to what I felt was a prompting from the Holy Ghost, I felt panic being replaced by peace. I offered a humble prayer, grateful for Heavenly Father’s direction and guidance.
Shortly thereafter I caught sight of Scarlett driving toward me. When she saw me, she quickly brought the vehicle to a halt and came over to me with the cell phone in hand.
“How did you know to stop and wait?” she asked.
Joyful tears filled our eyes as I related my experience receiving promptings from the Holy Ghost.
That incident has stayed with me, and I can never deny the divine help I received that day. It strengthened our testimonies that Heavenly Father is aware of the seemingly minute details of our lives. I strive to remain worthy of that same guidance I received many years ago.

Of course, Shawn’s basketball prowess has not gone unnoticed. He has attracted national attention since he was in the ninth grade. His family’s ability to look for the positive really helped while college recruiters visited around Castle Dale trying to persuade Shawn to consider goint to their colleges. Shawn’s dad, Reiner, says, “We were told the recruiting process could become unpleasant. We sat down as a family and said, let’s not let it get that way. Let’s do this from a positive angle. Let’s enjoy it. It was an incredible experience, and the family enjoyed every minute of it.”

I grew up on a small farm in southwest Utah. To escape the heat, our family would sometimes drive up a nearby canyon where a creek flowed year round. I can still feel the dry desert air blowing in my face in the backseat of the car. As we entered the canyon, the air became cooler and more fragrant.
My favorite place to go was the Big Spring, the major source of the creek. At the base of an almost vertical canyon wall, a steady stream of clear, cool, sweet water burst from a cleft in a large boulder.
I learned how to get a drink by watching my father kneel on a large, flat rock and scoop water from the spring. He would never drink downstream, where the water had been fouled by surface runoff. Near the source, the water would always be pure and clear.
As a young boy I learned the difference between the common, muddy water that flowed past my home and the pure, clear water from the stream in the canyon. To obtain the pure water, I had to climb to higher ground. I had to walk the narrow path, and I had to kneel. The pure, clear, sweet water came only at the source of the spring, and it was constant.

When my brother and I were young, we loved to visit our grandmother. She lived about 15 minutes away from our house, so we visited her frequently. Many times when we arrived at her house, she would be on the telephone. A neighbor called nearly every day just to talk. We never could understand why Grandma spent all that time talking on the phone with a neighbor. So we told her to tell her neighbor she was busy. Grandma would finish the call, smile, and then turn her attention to us.

Sixty or more years later, I realize that Grandma wasn’t being bothered by her neighbor’s frequent calls. Rather, these two widows were supporting each other—talking together when others didn’t have the same time or interest just to visit.

I remember the first time I swore. I was repeating a joke to some of my friends, and they all thought it was funny. It wasn’t like I was actually swearing, I thought. “I didn’t think you cussed,” one of my friends laughed. And I didn’t. At least not before then and, after that, not a lot. Not at first anyway.
Less than a year later, I was up there with the best of them—trading cutting remarks, swearing for effect, because people thought it was funny and acceptable, and hating myself more each time I did it. I knew it was wrong, but by that time it was a part of my speech pattern. My language got worse, and along with it went my character. I was in trouble at school and, although I still attended church most of the time, I stopped taking the sacrament.
I remember, too, the first time I tried to quit. A boy I liked at school told me he thought swear words were unladylike. So I promised myself I’d stop. And I did, for a while. Quitting was hard, especially since I had decided to quit for the wrong reasons. My resolve lasted about as long as a high school crush, and then I was back to my old ways.
Along with my unclean language came other bad habits and bad crowds. And when I finally decided to clean up my language, I was engulfed in other sins I needed to clear up. But this time I had decided to quit for the right reasons. Because I wanted to repent. I wanted to be clean in God’s sight, and not just to act ladylike.
Elder L. Tom Perry says if we reconstruct our sentences after we swear, minus the offending word, gradually our thought patterns and speech patterns will change (see New Era, Aug. 1986, 7). Substituting similar words that aren’t really swear words is nearly as bad because everyone knows what we meant to say. We need to replace the bad words or thoughts with something wholesome for this formula to work.
This was no short process. And it was hard—hard to regain control of my life and rebuild my testimony. Speech might seem like a small thing when there are so many other worse things we could be doing. My first offense seemed so innocent at the time. I realize now that the world tries to make sins—regardless of their size—look insignificant, but any sin offends the Spirit. And when the Spirit wasn’t with me, I wasn’t under God’s influence and I grew farther from Him.
Putting my decision into action brought the Spirit back into my life. I could again feel the Lord’s guiding influence, and He helped me with all the other problems in my life when I was sincerely trying.

Missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints knocked on the door of Richard Marson in May 2023, and he abruptly told them he didn’t have time for them and to go away. After returning inside his home, he recalled that he had a powerful impression conveyed to his heart- “you are making one of the biggest mistakes of your life.” He went back outside and called to the missionaries, apologized, and asked them to come in. He then began his journey to learn more about the gospel of Jesus Christ.
He said “Not long ago, I was praying and felt the presence of our Saviour Jesus Christ saying simply, ‘You have come back to me’– it was overwhelmingly clear and powerful. I think this is because as a boy I always had firm belief in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ but drifted from them around the age of 13/14”.
Marson came from a broken home and spent his formative years in boarding school, but always had a belief in Jesus Christ. He said, “Faith was always there but it wasn’t as integral as I now think it should have been– there was a very British reserve about discussing or celebrating it outside of services and church occasions. Nonetheless, as a boy I read about Jesus and quickly grew to love Him and what he represents.”
As a teenager he got away from religion but found a new passion- “About this time, my father (who was a lawyer) was doing some work for one of the big TV stations in London and he took me to their studios. I’ve never forgotten how exciting I found the atmosphere– a mix of paint, electricity and sheer adrenaline! I resolved there and then that I wanted to work in TV, preferably as a director and doing ‘live’ shows.”
He stayed on that path, graduating from Durham University and began a career at the BBC in London. He said, “I worked my way up from the most junior production job on the studio floor to become a director, then a producer and eventually an executive producer. I found the work vocational– early on, I decided to focus on children’s programmes as I believe so strongly they need the right kind of quality content to challenge, stretch and inspire them. ‘Blue Peter’ was the best and most popular of them all and it gave me so many opportunities– travel all over the world, incredible experiences and encounters. And the shows were live, which was always exciting.”
In his personal life, Richard met his wife in 1988 and eventually had a daughter and a son, whom he described as “the joys of their lives”. Then tragedy struck, as his son “died in the summer of 2008. He was only fourteen. We have no idea why he took his own life– he had shown no signs of depression– his many friends were utterly bewildered and distraught. Suicide is like a bomb going off in a family and the effects are felt forever afterwards. You have to learn to live in a different way.”
He continued, “I was lost and angry and self-destructive. We did have an incredible therapist who had been a Franciscan monk as a young man. He was rightly tough with me and strongly suggested I needed to turn my energies to helping others. I doubted at first but eventually agreed to his suggestion of training to be a local mentor to young men struggling with a range of issues. I did this for a couple of years before returning to my TV career. I learnt that focusing on others in your time of greatest need can be restorative and healing. “
His contact with the missionaries in May also changed the direction of his life, and he was baptised four months later. He said, “What is extraordinary to me is the revelation that this is the true church. I might easily have been promoted to re-embrace my (former) Christian faith after the initial contact with the missionaries but as I studied and got to know more and more about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I just found it to be right and true– the testimony of Joseph Smith and the early prophets, the glorious nature of the Book of Mormon– and the blessing of our living prophet. I love the accountability which comes with the covenants we are asked to make, the focus on service, self-discipline, and sacrifice.”
Richard Marson is currently living in Huddersfield, West Yorkshire and is working with the young men in his ward. He is still enthusiastic about life and love for others and is grateful for the experiences that have shaped his life. He looks forward to being able to serve in any capacity he is asked.

“I’m so hungry. What can I eat?” Ryan asked. “Have a banana or an apple,” Mom said. “I’m tired of bananas and apples,” Ryan said. “Would you like some grapes or crackers?” Mom asked. “I’m tired of grapes and crackers too,” Ryan said. Mom thought for a minute and asked, “How about Tooty Fruity Salad?” “Cool! What’s that?” Ryan asked. “A special family recipe,” Mom said. Ryan got one table knife, one banana, and one bowl. Then he cut the banana into 10 slices and put them in the bowl. He put 10 grapes in the bowl. While Mom cut up an apple, Ryan sliced four strawberries. He added them to the bowl and stirred with a spoon. He broke a long graham cracker into four pieces and put them in the bowl with the fruit. “Now you have Tooty Fruity Salad,” Mom said. “I like this fruity salad, but why is it tooty?” Ryan asked. “Because it’s too good to be turned down,” Mom said.

When I was about four years old, my family and I spent Easter with relatives in Ephraim, a small town in Utah. We went for a picnic there, and it was then that I saw a cactus for the first time. I ran back to my family, and my uncle was the first person I saw. “I’ve just seen something I’ve never seen before,” I told him. I described what it looked like. “What is it?”
“It’s a cactus,” he said. “You know what cactuses are for, don’t you?”
“No, what are they for?” I asked.
“They’re for sitting on.”
I ran back to the cactus I had seen, and I sat on it. The rest of the afternoon was spent with my mother picking out the painful prickles from the cactus. I learned then that when someone tells you something, you have to pay attention to whether he’s serious or just having fun!

When she was 16 years old, Sister Michelle D. Craig learned that her family would be moving from Provo, Utah, USA, to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, USA, so her father could begin an assignment to serve as a mission president.
She was happy to be with her family, but the move left young Michelle “lonely socially” during her junior and senior years of high school.
“Those were really formative years,” Sister Craig said. “Instead of relying on friends, I relied on my family and my testimony, and church became a lifeline.” She valued most her relationship with Heavenly Father and the Savior.
Michelle Daines Craig was born on July 13, 1963, in Provo, Utah, and is the oldest of seven children born to Janet Lundgren and Robert Henry Daines III. She lived in Provo until her family moved to Pennsylvania. Two years later, Sister Craig returned to Provo to attend Brigham Young University, where she received a bachelor’s degree in elementary education. In 1984 she accepted a call to serve in the Dominican Republic Santo Domingo Mission.
“I have always been a believer,” said Sister Craig, who was sustained as First Counselor in the Young Women General Presidency on March 31, 2018. “From a young age, I knew that I was a daughter of God. But I remember [on my mission] that every time I bore testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith, I would feel the Spirit. I had a beautiful confirmation that solidified my testimony.”
Just days after her return, Sister Craig’s brother told her she needed to go on a date with Boyd Craig, a friend from his mission. Eight months later the couple was engaged. They married on December 19, 1986, in the Salt Lake Temple. They are the parents of three children, and they have six grandchildren.
She has served in many callings, including as a temple ordinance worker in the Provo Utah Temple and as a Gospel Doctrine teacher. At the time of her call to the Young Women General Presidency, she was serving on the Primary general board.

Rosalie Lund began playing the violin when she was five. “I always liked playing. I always wanted to be a great violinist,” she says.
So why would she take 18 months off to serve a mission?
It’s a question Sister Lund became familiar with before she left in December 1996 to serve in the Canada Vancouver Mission. She was performing with an orchestra in Salt Lake City, and many nonmember musicians wondered what she was doing.
“Several of them thought I was crazy to go on a mission, especially in the prime time of my life,” Sister Lund recalls. “They were saying, ‘You’re going to do what?’”
“Knock on a lot of doors and tell people about the beliefs of my religion,” was her typical response. When the musicians talked about all the great things she could do musically if she stayed, she was quick to point out all the great things she planned to do as a missionary.
Sure it was the “prime time” of her life. And that’s why she decided to serve a mission.
“I had to do what I felt was right. I have had a very strong feeling that I needed to go on a mission. So here I am,” she says. “I’m learning and teaching about Jesus Christ. He is the source of everything good. If there is any truth or beauty in music, it comes from Jesus Christ. So in a way I guess I am still continuing my music study.”
Sister Lund remembers her last performance before she entered the Missionary Training Center. Everyone was talking about practice schedules and coming events, events she wasn’t going to be a part of. “I wasn’t very sad, actually. I knew I’d be missing out. But in a way I felt like they were missing out,” she says.
There were also the inevitable questions about the potential loss of skill while she is gone, especially since mission rules prevented her from taking her violin.
“I’m sure I’ll get rusty. I’ve had many friends—also violinists—who went on missions, and when they came back they were rusty. I guess if the Lord wants me to play the violin, I’ll be able to get back into it.”

One day when I was in the fifth grade, my teacher called my name. “Sheldon,” she said, “could you please come out into the hall with me?”
Everyone looked at me as I nervously followed her out of the classroom. My mind was racing as I tried to figure out what I might have done wrong. I couldn’t think of anything, but I was sure that having a teacher call you out into the hallway was rarely a good thing.
My teacher, Mrs. Ruth Rampton, explained that she was going to teach a lesson that afternoon on trees. “I need a book to teach this lesson,” she explained, “and I’ve left it home. Could you please go and get it for me?” I sighed a sigh of relief. She then described the book to me, handed me the key to her home, and said, “This will let you in the front door. I left the book in either the kitchen or the living room. After you find it, be sure to lock the door behind you.”
As I walked the quarter mile to Mrs. Rampton’s home, I held the key in my hand. It represented a great trust my teacher had placed in me. She had chosen me as someone she could depend upon. That trust she placed in me felt good. I decided that I liked being trusted.
Being trusted makes us feel happy, but we must earn that trust. It is very special. My brother Bill was six years older than I was. He was my ideal, I wanted to be just like him. I would follow him and his friends around and, although I am sure he sometimes thought of me as a little pest, he was good to me and allowed me to tag along.
When Bill was in high school, he had saved enough money to buy himself a car. I remember well the day he drove his very first car home. It was his pride and joy, and he spent many hours shining it up. One day as we were coming home, he stopped at the bottom of the lane that led to our barn and asked me if I would like to drive his car up the lane, which was permissible in those days on a farm. Of course I would! I couldn’t believe that he would trust me to drive his new car—I knew how much it meant to him.
I ran around and jumped into the driver’s seat. He showed me where the key was, how to shift gears, and where the gas pedal was. My foot just barely reached the pedal. I knew everything I needed to know to start the car, and off we went. It was great! It was only when we reached the top of the hill that I realized he hadn’t shown me how to stop the car, and we ran right into the side of the barn. I felt so bad! I was sure that Bill would never trust me to drive his car again. However, a few days later he asked me again if I wanted to drive his car up the lane—but this time he showed me where the brake was! I was so grateful that he understood that running into the barn had just been an accident and that it hadn’t destroyed his trust in me.
Growing up for me was much different than it is for many of you. Oh, I had good parents as you have, who taught me and set a good example for me. I went to Primary as you do. I learned the Articles of Faith, we sang many of the same Primary songs you sing, and I learned about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, just as you do today. But in many ways my life was different from yours. I lived in a small town in Utah where my pioneer grandparents had settled many years before. I always lived in the same home. All my friends—everyone I knew—were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My world was very small, and my life was very simple: no television, no video games; I had never even heard of a computer!
Today you Primary children live in over 160 countries throughout the world. Some of your families are newly converted to the Church. Some of you move often and have lived in many homes. Some of you are the only members of the Church in your neighborhood or even in your school. You have access to the entire world through the television and the Internet. It is a wonderful time to be alive! You have many more opportunities than I had as a child. Along with the opportunities come challenges. You have so many more choices than I ever had. There will be those who will tempt you to do things that you know aren’t right.
It is not only important to be trustworthy, but it is important to know whom you can trust. You will learn many things and will need to make choices that will sometimes be difficult. You need to place your trust in those who will lead you to do what is right:
You can trust in Heavenly Father. You are His children. He hears and answers your prayers. He loves you and will always be there for you.
You can trust Jesus Christ. His teachings tell us how we should live our lives so that we can return and live with Him again.
You can trust the Holy Ghost. If you listen to His promptings, He will lead you and guide you and help you make right choices.
You can trust your parents. They love you and want only the best for you.
You can trust our prophet. There is always safety in following the prophet.
You can put your trust in the scriptures. They are true and will give you direction in your life as you read them every day.
You can trust your teachers and leaders. They love you and are teaching you the things that Heavenly Father wants you to do.
We must always be trustworthy. We must learn whom we can trust to help us make right choices. Perhaps the most important thing of all is that we must let Heavenly Father know that He can trust us—that He can trust us to do the things that are right, that He can trust us to keep His commandments to be loving and kind and obedient and honest and to set a good example for all those around us. Heavenly Father wants us to be trustworthy, and when we are, we will receive the wonderful blessings of peace and joy and happiness that He has to share with all His children.