Gospel Story Finder

I credit the Church for helping me become a better reader and student. When the elders read things to me, we would discuss them but by the next week, I could not remember what we had talked about. Reading was hard, but they gave me a copy of the Book of Mormon and taught me the plan of salvation. I sought for help from friends to memorize the plan of salvation, and the missionaries were excited about this. My reading and expression got better through the scripture reading, that was the beginning of my path to becoming an average student.

Kimberly Seyboldt of Oregon, USA, tells the story of seeking inspiration and giving gifts to show love:
“When I find life is getting me down, I get up and make zucchini bread, usually about eight loaves. My special ingredient is the silent prayer I offer as I bake to know who needs those loaves of bread. I have been able to better know my surrounding neighbors as the warm zucchini bread has been my invite into their homes and lives.
“One warm summer day, I pulled up alongside a family selling pints of blackberries on the side of the road. I didn’t need more blackberries, but the young, thin boy at the stand was excited to see me, thinking I was his next customer. I bought some blackberries, but I also had a gift for him. I gave the boy two loaves of bread. He turned to his father for approval, then said, ‘Look, Dad, now we have something to eat today.’ I was filled with gratitude for this opportunity to show love in a simple way.”

Fortunately, there are seldom-reported but marvelous-to-consider stories of great patience. Recently I attended the funeral of a lifelong friend. His son told a beautiful story of parental patience. When the son was in his youth, his dad owned a motorcycle dealership. One day they received a shipment of shiny new motorcycles, and they lined them all up in the store. The boy did what every boy would like to do, and he climbed up on the closest one. He even started it up. Then, when he figured he had pushed his luck far enough, he jumped off. To his dismay, his dismount knocked the first bike down. Then, like a string of dominoes, they all went down, one after another. His dad heard the commotion and looked out from behind the partition where he was working. Slowly, smiling, he said, “Well, Son, we had better fix one up and sell it, so we can pay for the rest of them.”

I think my friend’s response personifies parental patience.

Although Olivia is a fictional character, Lettice Rushton was a real person. Mother of ten children, and blind from cataracts five years before she was baptized, she was one of thousands of British converts who listened eagerly to the missionaries and immigrated with their families to join the Saints in Nauvoo from 1840–1843.
The Prophet Joseph Smith recorded that on December 25, 1843, Lettice Rushton, a recent widow, along with her family and neighbors, appeared under his window at one o’clock on Christmas morning and began singing, “which caused a thrill of pleasure to run through my soul.” The music so moved him that he thanked Heavenly Father for their visit and blessed them in the name of the Lord.
(See History of the Church, volume VI, page 134.)

I searched and searched for the perfect gift for Grandpa. Grandpa was dying of cancer, and this would probably be his last Christmas with us. I had been thinking for months on just the perfect thing to get for him. I wanted to give him something unique that would be just a small symbol of all the love and admiration that I had for him. But nothing that I saw seemed to be a worthy representation of that love.
Soon it was Christmas Eve and I still didn’t have a gift for Grandpa. I went shopping one last time, and once again I came home without a gift. I started thinking, if Grandpa had some money, what would he do with it? How would he want the money spent? The answer came to my mind quietly but positively: He would give the money to someone less fortunate than himself. So that’s how the money was used.
I got some paper and wrote about all the feelings I had for Grandpa, told him what I had done for him for Christmas, put the letter in an envelope with a Christmas card, and quickly gave it to him with a kiss. Before he could say anything, I wished him a Merry Christmas, and went back to my room.
A little while later, I went to get something for my mother and passed Grandpa’s room. Tears were rolling down his cheeks. He called me in, drew me close to him, and gave me one of those huge hugs that only grandpas can give. “That was the best gift you could have given me,” he said.
That was Grandpa’s last Christmas with us. It wasn’t until some time after his death that I slowly realized that Grandpa had given me one of the most precious gifts that I’ll ever receive. He had helped me understand that the best gift that one can give is a part of one’s self. Through example, Grandpa had awakened in me a desire to be like him and in so doing, had given me a better understanding of the glorious personage whom he was striving to be like.

We recently had an experience that pointed out the importance of communication. Our stake was given an emergency welfare assignment to can food, and the high councilor responsible for welfare received the assignment on Sunday—but not in time to announce it in our Sunday meetings. Only the bishops were notified of the assignment. When I attended a meeting of ward Relief Society presidents on Tuesday, I was faced with such comments as: “Why can’t they give us more than three days’ notice? Surely they’ve known about it for six weeks.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” I said, but not knowing whether it was or not put me in an awkward position. I felt discontent among the sisters at that meeting. Later, when I had the facts, I learned that most of what the sisters had said was incorrect and could have been immediately corrected if I had only known more about the situation.
Of course, there will always be emergencies in which we have to make the best of things, but when there is time to do so, it is important for priesthood leaders to inform Relief Society leaders of activities and assignments well in advance. Thus informed, Relief Society sisters can help promote goodwill and enthusiasm in a ward or stake. Just as important, Relief Society leaders should be trustworthy in dealing with confidential information and be positive in supporting priesthood leaders. Gossip and negative speaking detract from the Spirit’s influence and should be avoided.

I recently attended a week-long program in my state capital learning about government. I was far away from home and knew no one. I didn’t bring my scriptures along, but I did pack my June 2001 New Era. I didn’t know why at the time, but the magazine became a blessing to me. I read it each night. As I did, the comfort of the Spirit would wash over me. I also was prompted to pray for missionary experiences and had the opportunity to share the gospel with a few people I met. Thank you for publishing such a wonderful magazine. It truly is a blessing in my life.
Clare PleshekGresham, Wisconsin (via e-mail)

Elizabeth loved going to Primary every week. She loved singing Church songs and feeling the peaceful spirit there. She loved all her friends in Primary. But then her Primary class changed.
A new boy named Joseph moved in, and he seemed different from the other kids. His clothes were rumpled and dirty, and he didn’t seem to know when to talk and when to be quiet. He never raised his hand.
When Elizabeth talked to her mom about the new boy, her mom said that Joseph came from a “hard situation.” Elizabeth wasn’t really sure what that meant, but she noticed that Joseph’s family didn’t come to church with him.
A few weeks after Joseph started coming to Primary, the trouble started.
“Everyone sit down so we can begin class,” Sister Johnson said. All the kids started to take their seats, but when Joseph sat down, everyone moved away from him.
From then on, if Joseph sat on one side of the room, everyone hurried and moved to other side. It was like a game of musical chairs, where everyone tried to move as far away from Joseph as possible. Elizabeth had been taught to be kind, but even she began to play the musical chairs game. Sister Johnson told everyone to stay in their seats, but it was obvious—no one wanted to sit by Joseph.
Then one week at church, Joseph wasn’t there. Then another week, and another week passed, and Joseph still didn’t come.
Elizabeth wondered about Joseph and why he wasn’t coming to church anymore. She thought that maybe it was because of his “hard situation.” Or maybe he had moved away. But she just couldn’t get rid of an icky feeling that she had done something wrong. The more she thought, the more Elizabeth realized that their musical chairs game had been mean and wrong and that maybe it was the reason Joseph stopped coming to church.
One night after family prayer, Elizabeth gave her mom a hug and started to cry.
“Mom, I think I did something wrong. I didn’t mean to, but I did.”
Elizabeth told her mom about how no one in her Primary class wanted to sit next to Joseph. She told her how they had all laughed and tried to get the farthest seat away from him and how she felt bad for being mean to him. Elizabeth and her mom talked about repentance and what she could do to feel better and make things right.
Mom said, “Joseph is a child of God. It doesn’t matter if he looks and acts different; Heavenly Father loves him. We should always treat others like they are valuable, because they truly are.”
Elizabeth promised herself that she would never treat anyone like that again. Even if it meant being less popular, she would treat everyone like a child of God.
One Sunday, Joseph finally returned to Primary. When the other kids started to giggle and race to find a seat away from Joseph, Elizabeth chose the seat right next to him.
“Hey, Joseph! What’s up?” she asked with a warm smile.
Go to “Family Night Fun” for an activity to go with this story.
For Elizabeth, the musical chairs game was over. Joseph would always have someone to sit by now.

Since the Fall of Adam, all mankind are in a lost and fallen state. Like most of you, my being “found” started with two faithful missionaries. In the year 1913, in Copenhagen, Denmark, Elders C. Earl Anhder and Robert H. Sorenson taught my grandparents the gospel of Jesus Christ and baptized them. My parents taught me the importance of hard work, honesty, and integrity. However, in one short generation we became lost to activity in the Church and a knowledge of the gospel. Looking back, I recall, at a very young age, my playmates inviting me to Primary. My first Church experience was built around Primary friendships.
As a boy several months shy of my 12th birthday, one Saturday afternoon I answered a knock at my front door. Several of my friends—deacons dressed in white shirts and ties—sought me out to come to my very first priesthood meeting. Our leader walked beside me as we made our way down the hill to the Tabernacle on Temple Square. That was April general conference priesthood session.
Lloyd Bennett was my Scoutmaster. Very often on a Saturday afternoon he would pick me up and take me to the Scout office to buy needed badges and supplies. As we rode, we talked. He became a trusted friend. Lloyd Bennett, like so many, took time for the one.
These wonderful friends and leaders understood Elder M. Russell Ballard’s recent counsel to “find … one more” (“One More,” Liahona and Ensign, May 2005, 71), and they understood what that entailed. Sometimes it’s the one in the corner whom we hadn’t considered.
My own Enos experience came at 18 years of age as I knelt in my army barracks in Fort Ord, California. After the lights were out and I knelt on a hard floor, like Enos I came away found. I was to serve a full-time mission. My heart is filled with gratitude for the many who assisted in helping me to come to know who I am and to know of Christ and His gospel. I came to understand that my way home is through our Savior Jesus Christ.
“And he shall come into the world to redeem his people; and he shall take upon him the transgressions of those who believe on his name; and these are they that shall have eternal life, and salvation cometh to none else” (Alma 11:40).
The Old Testament prophet Isaiah, in seeing our day when the gospel would be fully restored, declared:
“Thus saith the Lord God, Behold, I will lift up mine hand to the Gentiles, and set up my standard to the people: and they shall bring thy sons in their arms and thy daughters shall be carried upon their shoulders” (Isa. 49:22).
As we care for the one, brothers and sisters, we see the fulfillment of that prophecy. Can you see how you have been carried in arms and on shoulders—carried to safety?
What would our Savior do with the opportunities that we have to affect the one? As we apply that principle If Christ had my opportunities, what would He do? our decisions in life will be Christ-centered.
I know personally that our beloved Elder Neal A. Maxwell always sought to find the one. For, as Nephi, he labored “diligently to write, to persuade [all of us] to believe in Christ, and to be reconciled to God” (2 Ne. 25:23). I know that Elder Maxwell made more than one call to those, even to the one, that he was trying to bring unto Christ.
Whether we are a Primary teacher, Young Men or Young Women leader, Scoutmaster, home teacher, visiting teacher, or friend, the Lord will use us, if we will listen, to seek out and find the one.
How grateful I am for the decision to serve a full-time mission, which became a great turning point in my life. Young men, you have the privilege of serving, even to labor diligently. Stay worthy; prepare to preach the gospel; do not delay—go and serve! Young women, you can do so much to build the kingdom. Dear seniors, we need you!
Our family had the privilege of serving in Canada with wonderful, dedicated elders, sisters, and senior missionaries. With heart to heart, spirit to spirit, and in the strength of the Lord, they sought after the one and found him or her, as dedicated missionaries do the world over.
“And thus they were instruments in the hands of God in bringing many to the knowledge of the truth, yea, to the knowledge of their Redeemer” (Mosiah 27:36).
Each one of us can make a difference in someone’s life, even his or her eternal life, but we must act; we must do; we must labor diligently. Perhaps you have received an impression to invite someone to return to church or to hear the message of the restored gospel for the first time. Go ahead, follow that impression. Why don’t we all invite someone to come tomorrow and listen to a prophet’s voice? Would you do that? Will you make that invitation today? With faith and a willing heart (even desire), we must trust that the Spirit will give us “in the very hour, yea, in the very moment, what [we] shall say” (D&C 100:6). I know that to be so.
How grateful I am for this call to serve once again, this time in Australia. I express my eternal love and appreciation to my wife and our nine missionary-minded children for their love and support. I bear solemn witness that the fulness of the gospel is restored upon the earth, that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God, and that the Book of Mormon is the word of God. Today we are led by a living prophet, even President Gordon B. Hinckley. And I know that God lives, and I know that Jesus is the Christ, our Savior and Redeemer. It is in the Shepherd’s loving arms and on His shoulders that we are carried home. Like Enos, may I humbly say: “I must preach … unto this people, and declare the word according to the truth which is in Christ. And I have … rejoiced in it above that of the world” (Enos 1:26). To these truths, I bear witness in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

One night I went with my friends to a youth activity at the local ice rink. Around and around we went on the cold, slippery ice. I was feeling pretty confident and carefree, and I was glad I had gone to the activity.
My mind wandered as I glided along—this was my mistake! It only took one regrettable second for my feet to twist together like a pretzel, and down I went, smashing my face into the ice. Embarrassed, I collected myself and headed for the side of the rink to assess the damage. I quickly realized that my two front teeth were dangling by the roots.
My ward family stepped into place. Brother Kearns called my parents, but by the time they arrived, my ward family was already making arrangements. Brother Bryson comforted me as he helped me into the car to go see a dentist. It felt just like my family had been with me the whole time. They had taken care of everything, and my mom and dad were grateful.

Illustration by Melissa Manwill
When I was nine, my brother Leif got really sick. He went to the hospital. My mom told my sister and me that my brother had leukemia, a blood cancer. We prayed that my brother would be OK.
My dad stayed at the hospital with my brother. Two days later we drove to the hospital to see Leif. It was the first time I’d seen him since he was diagnosed. My grandma and grandpa were there helping. When I walked in, my brother was on a bed with many tubes and needles connected to his arms. I gave him a hug and began to cry. But I felt the Spirit with me. Heavenly Father was comforting me. He gave me love and support.
As we drove home from the hospital, the Spirit was still with me. I’m thankful that Heavenly Father blessed my family and my brother in many ways. The members of my ward helped our family. And my schoolteachers showed kindness to me. I felt the love of Heavenly Father through many people.
Leif has had a lot of struggles with his leukemia. Prayer and family and ward fasts have helped him so much. Leif has two years left of chemo treatment, but he has made it through the first and hardest year.
Heavenly Father sends the Holy Ghost to comfort you in times of need and inspires friends and family to help you.

Sacrificing a night of sleep was no problem for the youth of the Sydney Australia Hebersham Stake. After all, it helped them raise $5,000 for a Ronald McDonald House.

They called the event a “Wake-a-thon,” and invited sponsored donations for their wakeful hours over a Friday-Saturday time period. Part of those hours were spent doing more service—they served a late-night supper to the local police. They also had a dance.

Carson could hardly sit still. He was excited to go to Grandma’s house! Every summer Grandma invited all the cousins over to her house for a three-day “Cousin Camp.” Each year the camp had a different theme. Carson couldn’t wait to see what they were going to do. When Carson and his cousins got to Grandma’s house, she met them at the door.
“Welcome to Cousin Camp!” Grandma said. “This year’s theme is service. For our first activity, we’re going to make posters for our local firefighters.”
Everyone split into two groups. Carson joined a group and eyed the candy piled in the center of the table.
“Use this candy to create a kind and fun message for the firefighters,” said Grandma.
Carson and his cousins worked together to make the perfect poster. Carson drew a big red fire truck and taped on his favorite candy.
When they arrived at the fire station, the firefighters were really happy with the posters. They showed Carson and his cousins around the firehouse and even let them sit in the fire truck!
At breakfast the next day, Carson’s cousins tried to guess the next Cousin Camp activity.
“I think we’ll do yard work for Grandma’s neighbors,” Ava said.
“Maybe we’ll make food for people who are hungry,” said Nash.
“Or clean up the park!” said Natalie.
Grandma smiled. “Those are great ideas, but today we’re going to make fleece blankets for children at the hospital. Everyone pick some fabric, and then I’ll show you what to do.”
Carson looked through the stack of fabric and picked one with soccer balls on it. He loved soccer!
“Want to help me with my blanket?” Carson asked Caitlin.
“Sure!” said Caitlin.
“OK. I’ll cut strips along the edges, and you can tie them in a knot.”
Caitlin nodded and concentrated on tying each knot. Soon they were finished, and the blanket looked great! When they got to the hospital, Carson and Caitlin gave their soccer blanket to a girl who was sick. She loved soccer too!
During Cousin Camp, Carson and his cousins also served each other. They helped Grandma make meals. They helped each other make their beds, and they held doors open for each other. Carson never realized there were so many ways to serve! He thought about all the things he could do to keep serving after Cousin Camp was over.
“Today’s the last day of Cousin Camp,” Grandma said during breakfast the next day. Carson was sad it was almost over. He was having a blast!
“You can choose what we do today,” said Grandma.
Hailey and Zoie loved animals, so everyone collected old towels to give to a veterinary clinic. Oliver had the idea to give water bottles to people who were homeless. One man was grateful because it was very hot that day!
Go to “Family Night Fun” for an activity to go with this story!
Grandma said, “You’ve all done an amazing job serving others! I know Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are happy with the way you’ve all served.”
“Grandma,” Carson asked, “can we do the same thing for Cousin Camp next year?”

One Christmas Eve, I stayed up late into the night finishing a short story for my father. The story was about a young girl who wanted to be an angel in her community’s Christmas nativity. I named the girl Cosette after my father’s sister, who had passed away earlier in the year.
The next morning I got to watch the soft expression on my father’s face and see the tears shine in his eyes as he read what I had written. I can still remember the feeling when he finished and looked up at me. His quiet and simple “thank you” was the best gift I received that Christmas morning. It helped me see how our Heavenly Father and our Savior must feel when we gratefully receive the blessings They send us every day.
—Julia Woodbury

In school, if the children had been well-behaved, the teacher might reward them by having a railroad spelling bee after the afternoon recess. All the children lined up next to the wall. One day little Mary was at the front of the line, so she could spell any word that she wanted to. She correctly spelled cat. Then Charles, who was next in line, had to spell a word beginning with t, the last letter in Mary’s word. He spelled tail. Laura was next, and she had to spell a word beginning with l. She slowly spelled, “l-i-v-e-l-e-e.” Then, because she had misspelled lively, she had to sit down. The game continued as Henry correctly spelled a word beginning with y. All too soon the railroad spelling bee ended—it was time for the children to go home. But the next day they would return to the one-room schoolhouse to study and play again.

John Taylor had great understanding and love of people. Once, while he was serving as President of the Quorum of the Twelve, two old and faithful brethren approached him about a bitter quarrel between them. They had resolved to abide by whatever decision President Taylor might render. So they called on him and asked if he would listen to their story.

He said, “Brethren, before I hear your case, I would like very much to sing one of the songs of Zion for you.” A very talented and moving singer, President Taylor then sang a hymn to the men. When he finished, he said that whenever he heard one of the hymns of Zion, he wanted to listen to one more. So the two brethren consented to hearing a second hymn. After the second one, President Taylor quipped that he had heard there was luck in odd numbers, so with their consent he sang still another hymn. Afterwards, he said with a smile, “Now brethren, I do not want to wear you out, but if you will forgive me, and listen to one more hymn, I promise to stop singing, and will hear your case.” By the time he had finished his fourth hymn, the two brethren were in tears; they stood, shook hands, and asked President Taylor to excuse them for taking his time. They left without even telling him what they had quarreled about. His singing had reconciled their feelings toward one another. (See Improvement Era, September 1940, page 522.)

I had the strangest feeling when the whole family left for church without me. My mother and father didn’t make half the fuss I had expected when, just before time to leave, I announced, “I don’t want to go to meeting today.”

“Oh!” Grandma said, raising an eyebrow.

“Why not, are you sick?” Mama asked.

“Sort of,” I replied. “I’m sick of listening to long, boring talks.”

“Well, sounds as though we have only a part-time Mormon,” Papa remarked.

“I am not a part-time Mormon,” I protested. “I’m one all the time.”

“Your testimony sounds a bit shaky to me,” Papa responded.

“What does a testimony have to do with going to church anyway?” I asked.

“Everything,” my sister Laura chipped in. “If a person knows the gospel is true, she tries to do what she’s supposed to.”

“You’re preaching,” I objected.

“What will you do while we’re in church?” Mama asked.

“I’ll play with Joyce and Joan and their cousins.”

“Church is out by five. You can play with them after that,” Mother suggested.

Everyone was looking at me like I had two heads. I was annoyed. Couldn’t I be different just once? I knew plenty of kids that didn’t have to go to church, and their parents didn’t go either.

“If we wait until after church, we can’t finish our hut down by the river,” I explained.

Shaking her head, Mama sighed, “So Papa is right. We do have a part-time Mormon in the family.”

Feeling hurt, I asked, “How come?”

“Just think it over,” she answered.

And off my family went to church without me. I almost ran after them as they passed through the gate, but then I overheard Laura say, “She won’t really miss meeting. She’ll catch up with us before we reach the corner.”

Well! I’ll show her, I thought.

To prevent my weakening, I changed quickly into my old sweat shirt and jeans. Already Joan and the others were calling for me over the picket fence.

I had a strong urge to shout, “I’m not going.” Instead, I met them at the gate.

Usually going to the river was exciting, but today it wasn’t. There was still time to change my mind and attend church with my folks, for they always left early. While I stood, debating, Joyce asked, “Well, what’s bothering you? Did your old cat die or something?”

“Of course not, silly. Come on, let’s go,” I answered decisively.

I didn’t feel much like talking, so I ran ahead, making the other girls race to catch up. When we came to the river, we were winded.

The river! Big deal! I thought. It’s nothing more than a trickle through sand and rocks, and I thought it would be so great!

The sun was sizzling hot, my clothes were sticky, and a rock was in my shoe. Suddenly Joyce wailed, “Oh, look! Someone has caved our hut in.”

Sure enough! All our hard work of cutting and placing tamarack branches was wasted. The hut was a wreck.

Discouraged, I plopped down against a boulder in the shade of a black willow, shaking the gravel out of my shoes. A gnat that wouldn’t be shooed away buzzed my ears.

“Who wants a tamarack hut anyway?” I snapped.

Indignantly, with hands on her hips, Joan stood before me. “Look! Something is bothering you. What is it? You’re the one who thought the hut was so important.”

“Ah, I’m all right,” I said. “I just have some thinking to do, OK? Why don’t you all forget about me and go have some fun?”

“C’mon, let’s let the old potato sit and stew,” Joan urged. “The last one in the river is a mud turtle!”

There was a scramble as the girls pulled off their shoes and stockings, and I was left alone.

I sat and thought, If I need a testimony, I’d better do something about it. All my life I’ve heard people get up in church and say what they’re thankful for. Being thankful is important. Our Heavenly Father wouldn’t want to bless us if we weren’t thankful. But a testimony must be more than that. I thought hard.

When Joseph Smith went into the woods to pray, he saw the Father and the Son. So he had a testimony. He knew Jesus Christ was the Son of God. Hot as the day was, that thought made my skin prickle, and I shivered.

In Sunday School we had talked about an angel of God coming down and showing the gold plates to the Three Witnesses of the Book of Mormon. So of course they had testimonies.

But I had never seen an angel or seen a light or heard a voice from heaven. So that’s probably why I was in this sorry state, sitting in the dirt against an old lava rock in my grubbiest clothes, while my sisters sat in church in their crisp pink and blue dresses beside Papa, Mama, and Grandma. Then like a bolt, the thought struck me! None of my family has seen or heard anymore than I have!

I learned back against that boulder ready to cry. I wanted a testimony too! “Please help me, Heavenly Father,” I prayed.

Gradually, a sweet, sweet feeling swept through me. Why, I did have a testimony. I had always had one. If I knew Joseph knew and that the Three Witnesses knew that Jesus Christ was the Son of our Heavenly Father—then naturally I knew too. How wonderful! Tears trickled down my gritty cheeks. “Thank you, Heavenly Father,” I whispered.

I ran to the riverbank where my friends were playing. “Hey, everybody, c’mere,” I called excitedly.

“Well, look who’s come alive,” Joyce said. Eagerly they came.

“Come on, let’s go home. This is no way to spend Sunday,” I told them.

Timidly one of the cousins said, “Mama and Papa would never let us do this at home.”

“Of course they wouldn’t,” I agreed. “And we’re not coming to the river anymore on Sunday. We’ll fix that hut tomorrow.”

“Then the hut matters?” Joan asked.

“Sure it does. Tamarack huts are important.”

The family was already home when I got there. I hurried and scrubbed away my disgrace. No one paid any attention to me except Mama. “Did you have a good time at the river?” she asked.

“I suffered,” I answered.

The following Sunday was fast day, and I had been saving a surprise all week for my family. I was the first one at the pulpit when it was time to bear testimonies. I knew exactly what I was going to say.

But when I looked down at the people, their faces blurred. I was scared. My heart pounded and my throat was dry. I couldn’t remember one single word I had planned to say. Lying on the pulpit was a slip of paper with the title of the closing song, “I know That My Redeemer Lives.”

Tingling from head to toe, I took a deep breath and said, “Oh, how very much I know that my Redeemer really and truly lives.” Tears began to sting my eyes. Fearing I might cry, I could only add, “in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.”

Reaching my seat again, I squeezed in between Laura and Papa. His big brown hand closed over mine and his smile was broad and warm.

While the pioneers were crossing the plains, a small six-year-old boy wandered away from his handcart company during a storm and was lost. When the storm subsided, Robert and Ann Parker realized their boy was missing and began searching. For two days, an organized search was unsuccessful. The decision was taken that the company must move on because of the approaching winter.
A pioneer journal records:
“Ann Parker pinned a bright [red] shawl about the thin shoulders of her husband and sent him back alone on the trail to search again for their child. If he found him dead he was to wrap him in the shawl; if alive, the shawl would be a flag to signal her. Ann and her children took up their load and struggled on with the company, while Robert retraced the miles of … trail, calling, and searching and praying for his helpless little son.”
One suspects that he did not just casually look behind a few trees or leisurely walk along the trail, but that he vigorously investigated every thicket, every clump of trees and gully or wash.
“At last he reached a … trading station where he learned that his child had been found and cared for by a woodsman and his wife. [The boy] had been ill from exposure and fright. [But] God had heard the prayers of his people.
“Out on the trail each night Ann and her children kept watch and, when, on the third night the rays of the setting sun caught the glimmer of a bright red shawl [above her husband’s head], the brave little mother sank in a pitiful heap in the sand. … [She] slept for the first time in six … days.”*

When I first began working on the Joseph Smith Papers Project 11 years ago, I had a strong testimony of Joseph Smith as the Prophet of the Restoration. However, Joseph seemed almost like a mythic figure to me—someone who was so much more spiritually advanced that I had a hard time relating to him. He received marvelous visitations from heavenly beings, including our Heavenly Father and our Savior, Jesus Christ. I, on the other hand, sometimes had a hard time feeling God’s love.
Because I’ve spent the last 11 years immersed in Joseph Smith’s life—reading his journals, his letters, his discourses—I’ve come to know him on a much more personal level. And I’ve realized that he was a human just like me. Yes, he was a prophet of God and received magnificent revelations, visions, and visitations. But he still had to overcome challenges just like the rest of us.
Those of us living today reside in a world highly unlike that of Joseph Smith and the early Saints. And yet our problems are not totally different. We all have difficulties because of the human experience: sickness, death, betrayal, discouragement, and just plain hard days. Joseph too had moments when God seemed far away and when he wondered if the Lord was aware of his and the Saints’ situations. He faced the deaths of loved ones and suffered from sicknesses and trials, but he met them with a resolute faith that God was with him and that there were “good things to come.”1
The following two examples from Joseph Smith’s life highlight how he navigated the human condition and how studying his life and the experiences of the early Saints has helped me face my own trials.
All of us at some point will face heartache because of death and disease. Joseph and Emma Smith were no different. Their first child died shortly after birth, and Emma’s next pregnancy (with twins) also ended in the babies’ deaths. Joseph and Emma then adopted newborn twins whose mother, Julia Clapp Murdock, had died in childbirth. Eleven months later, in March 1832, young Joseph—one of the twins—died after a mob attack on the Prophet Joseph exposed the baby, who was suffering from measles, to the cold night air.2
The deaths of his children gave Joseph empathy for others who experienced the loss of loved ones. Just a few days after his son’s death, the Prophet traveled to Missouri to fulfill a commandment the Lord had given him to counsel with the Saints there. On his way back from the trip, Joseph was delayed after Newel K. Whitney, his traveling companion, suffered a broken leg in an accident. The two had to stay in the small town of Greenville, Indiana, for a few weeks until Newel was well enough to travel.3
As Joseph languished in Greenville, he heard that his niece Mary—the two-year-old daughter of Hyrum Smith—had just died. The death was devastating to Hyrum and his wife Jerusha.4
When Joseph heard the news, he wrote a letter to Emma—who was still mourning the loss of the baby Joseph. “I was grieved to hear that Hyrum had lost his little child,” Joseph wrote. “I think we can in some degree sympathize with him.” Of course Joseph and Emma could sympathize, having lost four of their own children. Joseph then continued, “But we all must be reconciled to our lots and say the will of the Lord be done.”5 To make sense of the death, Joseph put his trust in the Lord.
I’ve thought about this experience as I’ve dealt with the deaths of family members, ward members, and friends. Even the Prophet Joseph, who had experienced the glorious vision of the celestial, terrestrial, and telestial kingdoms about six weeks before little Joseph’s death (see Doctrine and Covenants 76), was pained at his son’s passing. He knew that he would see baby Joseph and his three other children again, yet their deaths still hurt. Being a prophet did not take away pain or preclude Joseph from experiencing the difficulties of mortality. But trusting in God and His plan mitigated some of the hurt.
In 1833, Joseph Smith and the rest of the Church faced a crushing setback when mobs drove the Saints from the city of Zion in Jackson County, Missouri. With many of the Saints cold, hungry, and homeless, Church leaders needed divine help more than ever. Yet as Joseph contemplated the situation, he found himself unable to obtain direction. After the initial violence in July 1833, Joseph wrote to the Saints in Missouri: “I verily know that he [the Lord] will speedily deliver Zion, for I have his immutable covenant that this shall be the case. But God is pleased to keep it hid from mine eyes the means how exactly the thing will be done.”6
C. C. A. Christensen (1831–1912), Saints Driven from Jackson County, Missouri, c. 1878, tempera on muslin, 77 1/4 x 113 inches. Brigham Young University Museum of Art, gift of the grandchildren of C. C. A. Christensen, 1970.
After the Saints had been driven out of the county in November, Joseph petitioned the Lord again for answers to two specific questions: “why God hath suffered so great calamity to come upon Zion” and “by what means he will return her back to her inheritance.” But Joseph still could not get direction. “The Lord has kept [the answers] hid from my eyes,” he told Edward Partridge, the bishop in Missouri. “They are not plainly shewn unto me.” Instead, God gave Joseph a reassuring prompting: “Be still, and know that I am God.”7
On December 16, 1833, Joseph finally received his answers through a revelation (see Doctrine and Covenants 101). The first part of that revelation explained why the Lord allowed the Saints to be expelled from Jackson County—the first question Joseph had asked God. The second part was a parable about a nobleman who loses his land to his enemies and asks the strength of his house to take back the land. That was the answer to Joseph’s second question. The Lord also repeated His earlier words of comfort: “Be still and know that I am God” (Doctrine and Covenants 101:16).
Each of us will have moments in our lives when we feel like God isn’t answering our prayers. He might feel distant, and we may question whether He is aware of what’s going on. I have had those moments and have wondered when an answer would come. It has been comforting for me to read that even Joseph Smith, the great Prophet of the Restoration, had moments where he too had to struggle for answers—where God did not show him everything at once. That gives me courage to keep moving in faith, knowing that when the time is right, I will receive my answer.
The Prophet Joseph Smith was a remarkable person. He remains one of my heroes. He had to suffer through the trials of life, just as I do. He had to face death, disease, and discouragement. Yet he persevered with a faith in God and Jesus Christ that enabled him to overcome his difficulties.
The courage that I feel when I read of his strength, of Emma’s strength, and of the strength of the early members of the Church gives me hope that I can conquer my challenges as well. For me, that is one of the greatest reasons to study Church history: so that my faith can be fortified by looking to the examples of those who have gone before.

“I’ll get it!” Nathan raced to answer the doorbell. He was tired of unpacking boxes. Moving is hard work, he thought. And making new friends was going to be even harder.
No one was at the door, but there was a book on the porch. Inside it was a bookmark with a map and a note. It said: “Please take me home.”
“Who is it?” Dad called from the kitchen.
Nathan brought the book into the house. “It’s just this book,” he said. “Maybe it’s a joke.”
“It’s a library book, and it’s due today,” said Mom, looking inside the cover.
“I guess I could take it back,” Nathan said, “if it’s not too far.”
“This map shows a library just a few blocks from here,” said Dad. “Why don’t you go ahead and return the book while we unpack the kitchen things.”
Nathan grabbed his bike and headed for the library. On the way, he saw some neighborhood kids. They whispered and laughed as they watched him pass.
He remembered all his friends in his old neighborhood and at his old school. They didn’t whisper and laugh at him. I don’t think I’m going to like this place, he thought.
Inside the library, Nathan walked up to a counter near the door. “Does this book belong here?” he asked.
The woman behind the counter smiled and took the book. “Are you new here?” she asked.
“Yes,” Nathan said. “We just moved to Maple Street.”
“My grandson, Robert, often goes to Maple Street to play with Kim Lee. Do you know them?” asked the woman.
“No,” Nathan said sadly, “I haven’t met anyone yet, except you.”
“Would you do something for me?” asked the woman. “Would you please take these cards to the post office? It’s on the corner up the street.”
Nathan took the cards and rode his bike to the post office.
“I’ll bet you’re the new kid whose family just moved to Maple Street,” said the man at the post office. “We postal workers know who moves in and out. Have you met my niece Marta? She lives near you?”
Nathan shook his head, feeling lonelier than ever.
The man wrote something on a piece of paper. “Would you do something for me, Nathan? Would you please stop by the bakery and leave this note on your way home? If you go one block over and back toward your house, you’ll go right past it. It’s across the street from the school.”
Nathan took the note and rode his bike to the bakery. He stopped and looked at the empty school playground. He wanted to try the slide, but he remembered that he had promised to deliver the note to the bakery.
A teenage girl took the note. “Are you new here?” she asked.
“Yes.” Nathan sighed. “We just moved to Maple Street.”
“Really?” The girls’ eyes opened wide. “Would you do something for me?”
Nathan just nodded.
Minutes later, Nathan was carefully pushing his bike down the block with one hand while he used his other hand to balance a cake box on the bike’s seat. He was delivering it to a house across the street from his new home.
When he got to Maple Street, the children Nathan had seen before were gone. The street was quiet. He carried the box to the door with the right address and rang the bell.
The door flew open. “Surprise!” shouted many voices. All the neighborhood kids were there. Nathan’s parents and some other adults were there too. There were balloons and streamers.
“Hi,” said a boy. “I’m Kim Lee. This is my house.”
Kim Lee and Nathan put the box on the table and opened it. It was a cake with flowers around the sides, and on the top it said, “Nathan, welcome to your new home.”