Gospel Story Finder

A maze, of course, is a puzzle made of lines through which a path from a point marked “beginning” to a point marked “end” can be traced. Richard has drawn hundreds of them and has even published a book of mazes. The book, which contains about 50 mazes of varying difficulty, was used as one source of income for financing Richard’s mission. (He is currently serving in the Texas San Antonio Mission.)
It was Richard’s father who first thought of using the maze book as a financial resource for a mission. “I promised the Lord that all the money would go into my mission fund,” Richard said. “The books weren’t selling too well to begin with, but last Christmas we had more orders than books and had to have some more printed.” They have now published more than 1,000 copies and hope to have more printed by this Christmas.

In the early spring mornings as the sun took a first peek over the mountains, Jan and I started walking together. As newly assigned visiting teaching partners, we were both young mothers with growing families and busy, demanding schedules.
Jan and her family were recent move-ins to our ward, and I wasn’t sure what we would talk about. Struggling, out of breath, up and down the inclines of a nearby mountain road, we walked and talked day after day.
In the beginning, our conversations were lighthearted chatter about our husbands and children, their interests, and the schools in the area. Little by little we opened our hearts to one another, processing spiritual ideas and delving into our experiences to find the kernels of truth. It seemed as we worked to get our bodies in shape, we began to get our souls in shape. I loved this wonderful exertion.
I learned two unforgettable lessons from my journey with Jan that continue to enlighten my mind and fill my soul with joy. The first is that whatever the circumstances in your life, if you are spiritually prepared, there is no need to fear (see D&C 38:30).
Long after we began our walks together, I discovered that years earlier Jan had made choices which took her step-by-step away from the Church and down a path she now regretted. About the time our lives intersected, she had determined to put her life in order. The longing in her heart was to prepare herself so that she could be sealed to her husband and children in the temple. Hers was a single-minded yearning, as Nephi phrased it, “[to] be reconciled unto Christ, and enter into the narrow gate, and walk in the strait path which leads to life, and continue in the path until the end of the day of probation” (2 Nephi 33:9).
You might expect that once Jan had determined as earnestly as Lamoni’s father in the Book of Mormon to “give away all [her] sins to know [the Lord]” (Alma 22:18), her journey would be smoothed. Such was not the case. She was faced with some of life’s most soul-wrenching trials. Jan was diagnosed with a brain tumor, her husband lost his job, then the family lost their home and their car.
Yet Jan’s faith in Jesus Christ grew steadier as her way grew harder. As we trudged along together on our morning walks, I learned so much from Jan about how her faith in the Lord and daily spiritual preparation helped her conquer fear. She seemed to understand perfectly what President Gordon B. Hinckley has taught: “We would be wise to kneel before our God in supplication. He will help us. He will bless us. He will comfort and sustain us” (Standing for Something [2000], 178).
Although she was in the midst of terrible trials, it was obvious to me that Jan knew our prophet’s words are true. She never stopped her personal spiritual preparation as she moved forward fearlessly a day at a time with a radiant sense of calmness in her life. Over the course of those early hours together, I literally watched “the morning [break], the shadows flee … [and] the dawning of a brighter day” (“The Morning Breaks,” Hymns, no. 1) as Jan’s repentance brought her a release from sins and then a deeply personal spiritual enlightenment.
I asked Jan how she had come to feel peace when her life was in such turmoil and things were collapsing all around her. I believe the words of a hymn capture best what she felt and subsequently shared with me about the power of the Atonement in her life:
The Lord is my light; the Lord is my strength.
I know in his might I’ll conquer at length.
My weakness in mercy he covers with pow’r,
And, walking by faith, I am blest ev’ry hour.
(“The Lord Is My Light,” Hymns, no. 89)
Because of her abiding faith, the Lord’s Atonement brought daily renewal to Jan. She submitted her will to the Lord one prayer, one scripture, and one act of service at a time.
Shortly before her death while she was in her 30s, I was among those gathered in the temple quietly rejoicing as she, her husband, and their children knelt at the altar and were sealed together for eternity.
The second unforgettable lesson that I learned from Jan is that when the sisters of Relief Society look “with an eye single to the glory of God” (D&C 4:5), they can experience rich spiritual insights and share deep spiritual strength together.
At the beginning of our walks, Jan and I weren’t walking at the same pace. As our hearts became “knit together in unity and in love” (Mosiah 18:21), we walked increasingly in step with one another both physically and spiritually. We buoyed each other up with our testimonies, bore one another’s burdens, strengthened and comforted one another as Relief Society sisters have always done.
Through my friendship with Jan I learned what a sacred kinship connects us as Relief Society sisters. Jan and I, like so many of you, grew from our assignment as visiting teaching partners into sisters and cherished friends. I testify that connections forged among covenant women in Relief Society can indeed enlighten, enliven, and enrich the journey of life because we can help each other learn how to put the Lord first in our hearts and in our lives. I know this because over 20 years ago, Jan helped me move closer to our Savior by the way she lived. She encouraged me to work beyond my own problems, to rejoice gratefully in the majesty of the Savior’s Atonement for my sins, to look forward with faith to what each new day brings, and to relish deep spiritual relationships available only through Relief Society.
I still walk in the mornings every chance I get. I still pause to study the beauties of this earth and to thank Heavenly Father for the mission of our Savior Jesus Christ. I often recall with deep gratitude the spirit Jan brought to our walks because of her great desire to feel the Savior’s redeeming love. Her love for the Lord flooded my heart then as fully as the rays of the rising sun continue to flood the land with light every morning.

My last example of a miraculous indication is a personal one which happened one month after President Nelson gave that talk.
The first week of May 2018 was a turbulent time for our family. Our daughter Jenny was scheduled to deliver our first grandchild. She and her husband, Joe, were living in Orem so my wife, Marie, had gone down to help out a few days before the scheduled delivery. I stayed in Rexburg to teach my classes and planned to drive to Orem early on the morning of the delivery.
Previous to becoming pregnant, Jenny developed a potentially dangerous autoimmune condition that causes excessive bruising and bleeding. The bleeding results from unusually low levels of platelets—the cells that help blood to clot. It is critically important to moniter this condition when delivering a baby; if your platelet count drops before delivering, you have a greater risk of heavy bleeding.
On the morning of May 7 everything looked good and Jenny, Joe, Marie, and Joe’s mother, Amy, were all at the hospital awaiting the big moment. It was around noon when the text messages from Marie notified me of some progress in the delivery room. Jenny was pushing hard. The baby’s head was crowning. I was now in the hospital parking lot, anxiously awaiting each text. Finally, the baby was out! It was a boy! I texted my response and asked if I should come inside. There was no response to my text. After several minutes I resent the text and again, I did not receive a response. I had an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. I decided to go inside and see what was happening.
When I opened the door to the outer waiting room both my wife and Joe’s mother were in the room and they were crying. It took a minute to get the details from them. I learned that the baby was okay; he had been taken to the NICU. Jenny on the other hand was not doing well. She had hemorrhaged during the delivery and had been taken to intensive care. Only Joe had been allowed to go with her. For the next hour we didn’t know much of what was happening. When we got a report on Jenny’s condition, we learned that it had been a very close call. Jenny had lost so much blood so quickly that her vital organs had begun shutting down. In the ICU she had been put on a respirator, intubated, and given several units of blood. The doctors had slowed her bleeding but had not been able to stop it completely. We were not allowed to see her until just before midnight when her condition stabilized and Joe and I were able to go to her room and give her a priesthood blessing. That night at the hotel as Marie and I said our prayers together, we thanked the Lord for the miracle of Tanner’s healthy birth and that Jenny had been spared and had a good prognosis. Five days after giving birth, Jenny was discharged from the ICU and today everyone is healthy and happy. You probably think that this happy ending is the extent of the miracle, but there is more. We did not realize it at the time, but it just so “happened” that Jenny’s labor coincided with a personnel shift-change in the labor and delivery ward. This allowed there to be double the number of doctors and nurses available as usual and it turned out that all of them were needed to get Jenny stabilized. Additionally, because of her rapid loss of blood, several units were needed on an emergency basis and thanks to the close proximity of other large hospitals, those units of blood arrived in just minutes. Viewing this medical emergency through a clarifying lens of faith I could see that miracles had happened even before we knew they were needed.

I don’t like mushrooms. That smell and texture—I don’t like them at all! But my parents began cultivating mushrooms when I was a child, so we ate them at meals every day. During the harvest season, I would help my parents late into the night. I would measure 200 grams of mushrooms, pack them in a bag, and press the seal on the package. I remember having fun while talking with my family. It was almost like having a family home evening every day.
It also provided income for the family, so we had to help out. But there were two downsides: First, one of my favorite television programs was on at the time we had to work, so I couldn’t watch it. And second, by the time I finished work, my hands would be black from the mushrooms, and it was hard to get rid of the color and smell with soap. When I was a child, I sometimes complained about why I had to help so much every day.
The mushrooms provided a good income for a while, but eventually the prices fell as the number of mushroom farmers increased, and my parents stopped growing mushrooms. I thought that they had only stopped because the prices fell, but I learned a fact that surprised me when I graduated from college.
My parents had started cultivating mushrooms to save college funds for me and my brothers. They had only stopped because they’d reached their target amount. When I found out, I felt ashamed of ever complaining. I hadn’t known that I had been working for my future college expenses. And on top of that, my family had helped me!
I had complained over and over without knowing that we grew the mushrooms for my own scholarship. My complaining was like Laman and Lemuel’s in 1 Nephi 2:12: “And thus Laman and Lemuel … did murmur because they knew not the dealings of that God who had created them.” I’m so glad the Lord knows me well and blessed me, despite my complaining.
I don’t think I’ll ever like eating mushrooms. But if there were no mushrooms, I would actually be a little sad, because I wouldn’t have the opportunity to remember those experiences with my family. Because of them, I learned to value my blessings and trust in the Lord’s plan—and not to complain! So even though I dislike mushrooms, I now appreciate them. They are an important symbol for me to remember my family bonds.

OK. I have a few more things I need to finish before the party. I don’t have much time to bake and decorate the cake.
Hmm. The cake is still too yellow on top. I bet if I put it in on the top rack, it will bake faster.
What?! It’s burnt on top and gooey on the bottom!
I really want to wear my new blouse to the party, but it’s still wet from the washer.
I’ll just throw it in the dryer real quick.
Oh, no! It’s too small now!
I’d better check the playlist to make sure we have music to listen to.
What happened to all of my music? Expired? I should have read the contract for the streaming service a little more closely.
OK. I picked up the balloons from the store. Now I just need to go home and set everything up.
Great. A flat tire.
Good thing I learned how to do this last month.
I learned a lot of things the hard way today, but next time I plan a party, I’ll be even more prepared.

Many of the pioneer faces in my mind are the faces of friends in Nigeria, West Africa. When I first arrived there in January 1984, I met Cecilia and learned of her creative pioneering in what seemed to me the overwhelming task of day-to-day living. I said, “You are my teacher.”

She responded, “I will be your teacher.”

I told her that I didn’t know if I could learn very fast, because she had so much to teach me. She smiled gently and said, “I will teach slowly.”

And she did. I lived as Cecilia’s neighbor for several months, and I will be grateful all my life for the things she helped me learn. I am a better pioneer because of this great soul and others in our neighborhood who allowed me to follow in their footsteps for a little while.

It still amuses me that my companion, Ann, and I were sent to teach Cecilia and others about self-reliance. While I hope we were able to share some information about health and sanitation that made a difference for them, I know that I personally learned the greatest lessons. Most of those lessons I learned from them had to do with self-reliance. I’m convinced that Cecilia and her sisters can handle any emergency. Forging onward, ever onward, they are indeed blessed, honored pioneers.

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.

One of the greatest gifts I ever received from my father is one I don’t even remember. He never talked about it. That was Dad’s way. I learned about it many years later from my mother.
Both my mother and father had been raised as members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but Dad’s habit of smoking had kept them from being married in the temple. The loving bishop who performed my parents’ civil ceremony encouraged them to set a goal to marry in the temple before their children came. They were still working on that goal when I joined the family.
By the time my second birthday was approaching, my parents still had not been to the temple. Mom really wanted to be sealed as a family before a second child came, but Dad was still using tobacco.
Sometimes I wish I could remember what happened on my second birthday, because that’s when I received the gift. My father came home from work that night in early November, and after setting aside his lunch bucket and taking off his coat, he picked me up. “Gary,” he said, “I have a special birthday present for you.” Mom said she was surprised because she knew Dad didn’t have extra money to purchase a gift for me.
Reaching into his shirt pocket, Dad took out a partially used packet of cigarettes and handed them to me. Mom started to object, but Dad held up his hand as if to say, “This is between my son and me.”
Quietly, he then said to me, “I have thought about this for several days. I have decided I don’t want you, my son, to ever remember your father smoking. My gift to you today is that I am giving up my cigarettes, and I will never smoke again.”
And that was the end of his tobacco habit. He must have struggled to quit smoking so abruptly. Although I don’t remember it, that was his special gift to me. But it was more than that.
A few months later, with my mother pregnant with my brother, we made our way to the Logan Utah Temple, where we were sealed together as a forever family.
I am truly grateful for that gift given many years ago from my loving and caring father.

All those Scouting activities really paid off for 14-year-old Jared Stokes of the Peachtree City Ward, Jonesboro Georgia Stake. The obstacle courses and athletic competitions gave him the experience it took to win the “Radical Outdoor Challenge,” Entertainment and Sports Programming Network’s (ESPN) outdoor game show. Jared reigns as grand champion.
Several times Jared wore his BYU hat on national television, so everyone would know what school and religion he supported. He had to participate in activities like scaling a rock wall, walking across a tight wire over swampy cold water with swamp water being sprayed on him, BMX bike racing, swimming, canoeing, and marksmanship, to name just a few of the events.
But Jared hasn’t let all this attention go to his head. He’s still an active seminary student, teacher, and Eagle Scout candidate. He hopes his athletic feats will set a positive example of what good, clean living can do for you.

It may not look like Joseph Ahuna is getting ready to go on a mission, but that’s exactly what he’s doing. Joseph earns money for his mission fund performing Polynesian and Native American dances for tourists at Waikiki on the Hawaiian island of Oahu, where he and his family live. This 17-year-old has saved nearly half of what he needs to pay for his mission.
But Joseph knows that money is just a small part of being prepared for a mission. “You have to live the standards of the Church,” he says. Joseph keeps a “For the Strength of Youth” card in his wallet to remind him of those standards.

May I tell you of the hour of my true conversion to the Lord Jesus Christ and his restored gospel. Perhaps my experience will strengthen those who desire a closer relationship with our Father in Heaven and a more profound testimony of the truthfulness of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Some years ago while traveling to a mission in Germany, I found myself, in stormy November, aboard a ship sailing from New York to Bremerhaven. The ocean boiled with turmoil. We were all seasick. All we could eat were soda crackers and Zwieback. I was almost afraid I was not going to die!
As the days passed it dawned on me: “I’m really going on a mission.” Do I truly have a testimony? Am I prepared to bear it “at all times and … in all places”? (Mosiah 18:9).
I thought I had a testimony, but now the real trial of my faith was coming. I was going to a foreign land where the only words I could speak in German were Volkswagen and auf Wiedersehen.
During the voyage I realized my testimony was not a spiritual fire of conviction, particularly of the Book of Mormon. And so I knelt down on the cold steel floor of that rocking ship and begged the Lord with my tears. I prayed, “Dear Father, I have got to know that the Book of Mormon is true. I have read it, I think I understand it, but I desire the fire which helps a man know that the Book of Mormon is thy word. Please, Father, help me.”
Somewhere out on the lonely Atlantic, during those turbulent days, a sweet spirit and peace came to me—“the peace of God, which passeth all understanding” (Philip. 4:7). I received a witness that the Book of Mormon is the word of God, and that supernal event became my hour of conversion.
If you question whether you have a testimony of the restored gospel, I encourage you to read, ponder, and study the Book of Mormon. Why the Book of Mormon? Because this holy scripture is the great testifier and converter. This ancient record is a spiritual compass for us to follow. Joseph Smith said, “The Book of Mormon was … the keystone of our religion, and a man would get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts, than by any other book” (History of the Church, 4:461). When you come to know that this testament of Christ is true, you will know that Joseph Smith is the prophet of the Restoration and that Ezra Taft Benson is the Lord’s prophet today. The Book of Mormon was written for our day to convince us “that Jesus is the Christ” (Book of Mormon title page). If your soul is searching for a more profound testimony of Jesus Christ and his restored kingdom, I suggest, in conjunction with studying the Book of Mormon, there are four steps you can take which will lead you to your hour of conversion.
These four steps are (1) Desire, (2) Works, (3) Prayer, and (4) Trust in the Lord. Let me briefly explain.
First, Desire: Oliver Cowdery desired a more firm witness of the plates which contained the Book of Mormon record. The Lord said to Oliver: “If you desire a further witness, cast your mind upon the night that you cried unto me in your heart, that you might know concerning the truth of these things. Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter?” (D&C 6:22–23). The Lord told Oliver that, first of all, a person needs to have desire.
Alma said, “Even if ye can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you” (Alma 32:27).
Second, Works: Oliver Cowdery took a positive action. He moved himself from thinking to doing. In my case, while on board that ship, I had more intimately studied and pondered the Book of Mormon. Young Joseph reflected on the Bible, then went into the woods to pray. Moses climbed Mount Sinai. My Great-grandmother Nelson boarded a ship in Denmark, with a flock of little children, to join the Mormons in Utah. Righteous works yield a divine harvest. The Lord said, “He who doeth the works of righteousness shall receive his reward, even peace in this world, and eternal life in the world to come” (D&C 59:23).
Third, Prayer: “Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire, Uttered or unexpressed” (Hymns, 1985, no. 145).
As we sincerely pray to the Lord and rely upon his divine whisperings, that still, small voice will come to us (see Hel. 5:30). We will receive a peace, knowing that God has answered our prayers. Remember the peace that Oliver received. These spiritual embers can grow into a flame of testimony (see Hel. 5:45).
Alma, upon meeting the four sons of Mosiah, who had been on a fourteen-year mission, rejoiced at their knowledge of the truth. He said, “They had searched the scriptures diligently, [and] they had given themselves to much prayer, and fasting; [and] they taught with power and authority of God” (Alma 17:2–3).
“Ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ,” counseled Moroni, “if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, … he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost” (Moro. 10:4).
Surely the Lord would not ask us to pray if he did not intend to answer our prayers. “He is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him” (Heb. 11:6).
Fourth, “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding” (Prov. 3:5). We can trust the Lord. He is our truest Friend. He always keeps his word. “Dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith,” admonished Ether (Ether 12:6).
May I ask you to extend your trust in the Lord. Take the Book of Mormon into your hands. As you read it, ask yourself, Could any man write this? Then ask the Lord, Is this thy word?
A word of caution: Satan wants to stop you. He will try to distract, deceive, and weaken your desire, your righteous works, your sincere prayers, and your trust in the Lord. Do not be afraid. We have already overcome the evil one at another time and place. We are told that in the great premortal war, “[we] overcame [Lucifer] by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of [our] testimony” (Rev. 12:11). We had a valiant testimony in our premortal state, and we can resist Satan and awaken that testimony again today.
The Book of Mormon is our testimonial Liahona (see Alma 37:45). This voice from the dust guides us to know that God lives, that Jesus is the Christ, and that his Church has been restored.
If you have even a small desire for a greater witness, please do the works of righteousness, trust in the Lord, pray and anxiously explore the Book of Mormon. I testify that it is the word of God. This iron rod marks the path that will guide your soul to your hour of conversion. I rejoice with you in that glorious event. In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, amen.

While teaching at BYU, Brother Dennis Rasmussen was selected to study at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America. In the opening session, as he gave his name and university, Rabbi Muffs boomed, “You’re the Mormon! … Do you pay your tithing?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“Do you pay it with a joyful heart?”
“Yes,” he said.
“I believe,” the rabbi said, “that joy is the essence of religion. There is nothing more fundamental to religious living than joy. … I am working on a book about joy.”
Brother Rasmussen responded, “There’s a passage in the Book of Mormon … , ‘Adam fell that men might be; and men are that they might have joy’” (2 Ne. 2:25). Rabbi Muffs was profoundly touched and exclaimed, “I’ve found the text I’ve searched for all my life … in the Book of Mormon.” Turning to Brother Rasmussen he said, “Say it again, but not so fast.” As he repeated the familiar words, the rabbi’s eyes glowed in appreciation of this great truth he understood but had not heard so succinctly expressed (Dennis Rasmussen, “An Elder among the Rabbis,” Brigham Young University Studies 21, summer 1981: 344–45).

When I was young, I had a testimony of the gospel, coupled with misperceptions of the Church. Feeling I couldn’t measure up to standards, I often struggled with unfounded guilt. I hadn’t understood the pure meaning of Christ’s Atonement or of God’s deeply loving nature. I didn’t have a strong enough relationship with either of Them. Although I felt truth in gospel doctrine, I chose another way to live.
As a young single adult in 2003, I was a couple of years into inactivity and making choices that didn’t align with the gospel. My boyfriend, Jason (who is now my husband), and I found ourselves having a child together before we were married and placing that beloved baby for adoption. He was adopted by a loving couple in the Church. Following that experience, I then earned my degree, started a career, married Jason, and started a family with him.
In 2018, following an 18-year absence from the Church, I felt prompted to have our three young children blessed. Following their blessings, I experienced recurring thoughts to find the Savior and that something bigger was coming on the horizon. Slowly—and painfully, I might add—Jason, with our children, joined me in a journey back to the Church starting in early 2019. With encouragement from friends placed along our path by God, we took baby steps in gentle progression toward the Savior. We did this through small, incremental goals over a two-year process.
Come 2021, my conversion to the gospel felt sturdy. I was committed to prayer, scripture study, and attending virtual church during COVID to propel my ongoing transformation. Yet I still didn’t have the power of God that was required for my specific life circumstance. I was struggling with ongoing mental health concerns, battling to maintain sobriety from substance abuse, and dealing with other life struggles out of my control—all during a season of relentless traumas resulting from the pandemic. I was determined to handle it myself, but in truth, I required the Redeemer—I literally needed to be saved!
Our prophet’s words that Jesus Christ was with me as I faced these mountains offered hope.
“Everything good in life—every potential blessing of eternal significance—begins with faith. Allowing God to prevail in our lives begins with faith that He is willing to guide us. True repentance begins with faith that Jesus Christ has the power to cleanse, heal, and strengthen us.”3
I had faith in the Savior but wasn’t sure how to connect with His power. I wanted to take the sacrament and be in the temple. Both were out of reach during this time of disappointment, grief, white-knuckled sobriety, and home seclusion.
Over time, even with frequent prayer, I couldn’t cope on my own another day. After another family cancer diagnosis, this time for my spouse, I relapsed and reached for alcohol in desperate escape. I hit my lowest point ever, but all I wanted was to be near Christ. I felt hopeless in my imperfect faith, believed I had sinned terribly, and thought God was disappointed.
At this heartbreaking point, I exercised my last ounce of faith to surrender my will to God. I needed access to His power through the priesthood. I couldn’t move forward on my own.
So in meek faith I requested a priesthood blessing.
Knowing my struggles, friends felt inspired to bless me with renewed capacity and counsel. Through the Spirit, I was told that all my progress hadn’t been lost and that I should seek professional resources in support of my mental health struggles. Most important, I was blessed to realize the healing power of my Savior, that Jesus and God would make up the difference as I put forth my effort with a deepened faith in Them.
Hearing specific priesthood promises gave me hope that God’s power would now set me on a healing course.
“Faith will always propel us forward. Faith always increases our access to godly power.”4
With renewed faith in Jesus Christ, I found that the priesthood blessing—given in His name and by His authority—provided the springboard I needed. I reached for my Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ to strengthen my connection to Them daily. I made immediate and significant progress. God placed resources to support my mental health struggles. Daily preoccupations with alcohol were eradicated. I immersed myself in wholesome media and deep gospel education, honored the Sabbath, improved my language, talked of the Savior throughout each day, and created a sacred space in my home for prayer.
Detail from Christ and the Rich Young Ruler, by Heinrich Hofmann
I now understand that the Savior is my advocate, my friend, my champion, my encourager, and my healer through His atoning gift of love. This was my game changer in connecting with Him. He helped me reprioritize, leaving behind the cares and habits that weren’t serving my soul. Miraculously, as I’ve made prayer and spiritual habits more meaningful, I’ve received personal revelation! I accept increased guidance from the Spirit for how my family can keep moving toward Him.
“He works miracles today, and He will work miracles tomorrow.”5
Since April 2021 conference, these promises have proved true as I’ve helped my family faithfully follow God’s path. The heavens are opened, and miracles have been showered upon us:
Fear is replaced with safety through the healing power of Jesus Christ.
I’m blessed with influence to bring a more nurturing presence to our lives.
The Holy Ghost is present in our home. Our children delight in daily scriptures, family prayer, Christian music, and pictures of Jesus and temples.
My husband, Jason, has been baptized, holds the Aaronic Priesthood, and is preparing to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood.
Preoccupations with unhealthy escape have lessened. My past self, doing her best at the time, would reach for chemicals to cope. Now I come in prayer for strength.
I have received my temple endowment and now attend the temple regularly. Jason is preparing to receive his endowment, and our goal is to be sealed as a family sometime in 2022.
Our birth son is grown, has been accepted to pre-med but has decided to serve a mission first, and is enjoying the relationship between our two families.
Mindalyn (right) with her birth son, DJ, and his adoptive mother, Stacy, on the day DJ received his temple endowment.
Family photographs courtesy of the author
In an ongoing process, I’m in programs to address mental health, where God has shown His hand throughout.
Despite ongoing trials of family deaths, layoffs, cancer, and sobriety, I now realize that I have access to God’s tenderness through the gospel of Jesus Christ.
The promises of power through priesthood blessings strengthen my life exponentially.
Mercifully, I’ve grown a sincere relationship with my Savior and Eternal Father.
“The Lord does not require perfect faith for us to have access to His perfect power.”6
How generous and true is this prophetic teaching from President Nelson! I used to think the gospel was complicated. I’ve now learned through experience that even with imperfect faith, I have access to His divine power, which will move our mountains of trials—what a gift!
Mindalyn with family and friends outside the Redlands California Temple.
It’s crystal clear that God and Christ love me. They see each of us as worthy for rescue! As we desire to reach for Him, the Savior’s grace is sufficient for all. I’m grateful for our living and cheerfully loving prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, and the heavenly revelation he shares with us. He is God’s prophet on earth. Following our prophet’s teachings has changed my life forever. I share my witness from experience that “faith is the power that enables the unlikely to accomplish the impossible.”7
The gospel of Jesus Christ is one of power, of grace, of love! What is required from me is continued desire to reach for Them and show up with my imperfect offerings. Christ, through His Atonement, will make up the difference.
The author lives in California.

Not long ago, Father Paul Showalter of Nauvoo shared with us an interesting insight on the Prophet Joseph Smith that came from the early Catholic history of that area.
When the Saints began to settle in Nauvoo and surrounding areas, a French Catholic priest by the name of Father John Alleman, who lived in neighboring McDonough County, needed transportation to visit a sick parishioner. Joseph provided him with ferry service to cross the river and a carriage to his destination.
As an expression of respect, Joseph commented, “The priests attend to their people faithfully and mind their own business, whereas others are continually bothering the Latter-day Saints.”

It may not always be true that a heavy load of church responsibilities is the reason a father does not draw close to his family. My father was a stake president for twenty years. He was installed when I was six and released when I was twenty-six. I can hardly remember a time in my youth when he was not stake president. He had a very large stake, and it took a great deal of his time.

In addition to this, he was a newspaper editor, and there were also great demands here as far as deadlines and other work that simply could not be put off. I can remember that a seventeen-, eighteen-, or nineteen-hour day was not unusual for him. While this could have created difficulties with us as children and our relationship with our father, surprisingly it did not.

In reflecting back to see what he did to keep us close to him, even though he had virtually no time to spend with us, I believe it was his ability to build us into his life. Even on the run, he knew what we were doing and was vitally interested and cared. The questions he would ask and the comments he would make let us know that he was proud of us and interested in us and followed us although he could not always be with us.

I also remember that no matter how tired he and Mother must have been, they never went to sleep until we were in. When I was the only one left at home, he was in the habit of not holding family prayer until I came home, even though he and Mother would be in bed. In situations like that he always called on me to pray. I want to tell you that that had quite an impact on how I conducted myself as a youth, when I knew that I was going to have to end my evening at the bedside of my parents in prayer.

In addition to that, we would have some very profound discussions during those quiet, uninterrupted late night hours. He was always willing to talk if I wanted to talk, no matter what the hour. I would have to say that my father was the greatest man I ever knew, although he didn’t have a great deal of time to spend with me.

As I look back on it, I realize that although the amount of time we spend is important, probably the more important thing is the ability to build our children into our lives. If we can express sincere interest in them and let them know that we know what is going on, even if we have to do it on the run sometimes, this seems to be far more important than a parent who has more time but somehow does not convey this interest.

As styles changed, more women were choosing to wear swimsuits that Rose Marie felt were immodest. Everyone thought she should start designing suits in the latest styles. But Rose Marie took a stand.
“I don’t like that style of swimsuit, and I don’t want to design for a company that makes them,” she said. Her business partners wouldn’t listen. Finally, Rose Marie decided to leave the company she had started. It was a hard choice. But she knew that standing up for what was right was more important than doing what was popular.

Why was it that whenever Bobby asked his dad to let him have a bit of fun on the weekend, it always had to turn into an argument about Church standards? All he wanted to do was go on a fishing trip with his friend Jason. But Dad wouldn’t let him go unless Jason’s folks could bring him back in time for church on Sunday.
“Just tell him that you believe in keeping the Sabbath Day holy,” his dad suggested with a smile.
“Dad! I can’t tell Jason that!” Bobby declared. “He’ll think I’m a loser!”
Dad folded the newspaper he was reading and sat quietly for a moment considering his next words. “Son, you have to stand for something, or you’ll fall for anything.”
Bobby didn’t like it when his father talked in clichés. They were just sayings that were passed from person to person until they lost all meaning. Anyway, he didn’t understand what the big deal was. He was just going to spend the weekend with Jason and his family. He’d only miss church that one Sunday. I’ll just call Dad Sunday morning and tell him I can’t make it home in time for church, he decided.
“OK, Dad,” Bobby said. “Whatever you say.”
“Good decision, Son.” Dad thumped Bobby on the arm as he left the room.
Bobby felt a bit like a worm dangling on a hook, but he pushed the uncomfortable feeling to the back of his mind as he hurried to stuff a few things in his backpack. A whole weekend fishing! Yes! he thought.
The phone call to his dad Sunday morning brought that wriggling-worm feeling back again, but the sun was shining and the fish were biting. He shook the sound of his father’s disappointment out of his head and ran outside to join Jason.
Blue Lake shimmered like a saucer filled with diamonds. Bobby hoisted his end of the canoe off his shoulder and helped Jason maneuver it into the water. They soon were stroking toward the middle of the lake. A hawk soared overhead, then dove toward the lake. Its claws struck the water, thrusting beneath the surface. Its great wings beat soundlessly as it struggled to rise with a silver fish in its grasp.
“Wow! I wish I could fish like that!” Jason exclaimed.
The boys reeled in a couple of bite-size brookies, but they unhooked them and carefully placed them back in the water. “You guys need to grow up a bit before you can come home with us!” Bobby said.
Soon one of them reeled in a rainbow trout that would span a frying pan. Concentrating on their fishing, they didn’t notice the white wisps gathering near the shore until the first frigid fingers of fog darted down the necks of their jackets. By the time they’d secured their fishing poles and picked up their paddles, Bobby noticed that Jason was only a shadow at the other end of the canoe.
“Which way?” Bobby asked, dipping his paddle into the water.
“I don’t know. I can’t see the land.” Jason’s voice was muffled, as if he was fading away in the fog that engulfed them.
“Well, let’s just paddle straight. We’ll have to hit the shore sometime,” Bobby said.
They paddled and paddled, but caught no sign of land.
“I think we’re going in circles.” Jason’s voice sounded small.
The fog thickened around them like a quilt, swallowing them in its thick cottony folds. There were snags in the lake, hidden roots of trees that could grab a canoe and hold it fast. There were rocks, too—the jagged kind that could bite a hole right out of a boat. Though he could see none of these dangers, Bobby felt them lurking nearby, waiting for them to paddle the wrong way. Sooner or later, they would hit something. Sooner or later, they’d feel cold water rush into the bottom of the boat, feel the suck and drag of the lake pulling them down. …
Bobby’s teeth started to chatter, and he thrust a hand against his chin to stop the noise. He could not let his fears take over. He grasped his paddle tighter. What would Dad do in this situation? When he thought of his dad, the uncomfortable feeling he’d had earlier came back. Dad wouldn’t be out in the middle of the lake on Sunday morning. He’d be in church, keeping the Sabbath holy.
“Bobby? What are we going to do?” Jason’s voice sounded high and jiggly.
Bobby’s head felt as fuzzy as the mist, but after a minute a bit of light broke through. If his dad had been in this situation, he’d stand up for what he believed in. He would pray. Taking a deep breath, Bobby said, “I think we need to pray.”
Jason grunted. Bobby wasn’t sure if he was agreeing or just waiting until later to call him a loser. Right now, that didn’t seem to matter.
“Heavenly Father, I guess I’m not exactly where I should be right now,” Bobby whispered, “and I’m sorry about that. But we really need your help. Please help us find the way back to the shore. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Bobby opened his eyes, hoping for a miracle, but the fog did not lift. Instead, a voice that sounded a lot like Dad’s said two words, “Stand up.”
Yeah, I get it, Bobby thought. Stand up for what you believe in, and I will, I promise. But what about right now?
“Stand up,” the voice was more insistent.
Stand up? In a canoe? That was the last thing he wanted to do. Standing up in a canoe would probably get him a good dunking in the cold lake. But he couldn’t shake the certainty in that voice.
“Uh, Jason?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to stand up for a second.”
“Are you nuts?” Jason must have started forward in his seat, because the canoe rocked. “Do you want us to end up at the bottom of the lake?”
“No, but I think the answer to my prayer is to stand up.”
“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. Do you really believe in that prayer stuff?”
Bobby took a deep breath. “Yes,” he said. “I really do.”
He stood slowly, keeping his feet spread evenly on either side of the canoe bottom. As he rose, his head broke through the fog. He blinked, shading his eyes. He couldn’t believe it. The fog came only to his chest. Above the fog, the day still shone bright and clear. Off to his left, he could see the spot where they’d launched the canoe.
For the first time, Bobby really understood what his father had been trying to tell him. When you stand up for what you believe in, you come out into the light and everything becomes really clear.
He sat back down. “Pull right,” he said. “We’re going home.”

A funny clown and a floppy bird danced around the room, shaking hands with laughing four-year-olds. Five other girls dressed in funny costumes were passing out crayons and uncolored pictures of witches and ghosts. It was Halloween night, and suddenly things looked a lot brighter to the children (who ranged in age from three to seven) than they had earlier that evening. They were all patients at the Houston Southwest Memorial Hospital in Texas and because of sickness or injury were unable to join their friends in trick-or-treating. Not wanting the children to feel left out, the Braeburn Ward Laurels in the Houston Texas Stake had decided to take Halloween to the hospital.

The evening’s activities included telling a story about a pumpkin, singing “pumpkin carols,” acting out a ghost story while the children helped with the sound effects, and coloring Halloween pictures. The hospital supplied the young women with a room so all the children (and their parents) could participate at once. After lots of laughter and smiles, the evening of sharing came to a close. As the Laurels bade their newfound friends good-bye, they agreed that this was one Halloween they would always remember.

A few years ago, a Church friend approached me as his priesthood leader and confessed a serious sin. This had lasted many years and was cloaked with all the lies he had made to me and to many other priesthood leaders. I first experienced an overwhelming feeling of despair, probably focusing too much on his betrayal of trust. But my heart was softened the following Sunday as I was seated on the stand during the Sacrament ordinance and was prompted to read the three parables in Luke chapter 15, which expand on the joy Heavenly Father feels for a soul who is repenting. How could I be upset or feel despair about my friend while the Lord Himself certainly feels joy just as the father of the prodigal son? I was gently reminded that “of [me] it is required to forgive all men.”6 This insight humbled me and as I started to forgive, an indescribable feeling of peace and gratitude enveloped my whole body.

Upon embarking on graduate studies, I grappled with feelings of guilt, as if I were prioritizing personal growth over dedicating myself to nurturing my family. To me, this felt like an either-or situation. Pursuing education felt indulgent. During our graduate studies, a dilemma surfaced regarding how both my husband and I could simultaneously pursue our educations. At this juncture I had developed a profound love for statistical human genetics intertwined with biomedical informatics, yet I struggled to envision a path forward to complete my degree.

I turned to God in prayer even as I wrestled with the idea of seeking His guidance on what seemed a selfish pursuit. I expected God to kindly encourage me to let go of this pursuit and focus on my family and my husband’s education. There are only a few times in my life when I have experienced clear, unequivocal divine revelation, and this was one of those times. But it was not the response that I expected.

The response from my Heavenly Father was simply and boldly “Don’t quit.” While this directive was unmistakable, it left me bewildered, lacking direction in how to move forward. I pondered the adage “When one door closes, another opens,” but I didn’t see any doors that could open. Despite receiving clear divine guidance, I found myself in a dark period of my life, grappling with how to proceed without apparent avenues for progress. With fervent prayers, the prompting persisted: “Don’t quit.” This came with no additional knowledge of how to not quit.

Ryan and I sought advice from our parents, friends, other relatives, and bishop. We prayed. We went to the temple. We searched the scriptures. Over the course of a month, a couple of things took shape. Besides the prompting “Don’t quit,” Ryan and I felt drawn to the story of the brother of Jared that I mentioned earlier.

After our pondering, my husband and I presented our offering to God and asked Him to direct our path. Instead of clear stones, our offering was a calendar filled with dates of me commuting between Texas and Tennessee while Ryan was in school, then both of us traveling to Tennessee on Ryan’s school breaks. We presented this offering and asked God to bless this plan so that we both would be able to continue our education and receive our degrees and, more important, so that our relationship would not suffer from all the time apart. We asked God that we, who were poor graduate students, would have the resources and fortitude to do this plan. We felt comfort that God accepted our offering and would bless it. After receiving the necessary academic approvals, we set out to follow this path.

Fast forward three years: after many, many flights and miles on our car, plus one baby, I graduated with my PhD. After three more years and one more baby, Ryan also received his PhD. God did bless our plan. Academically, we were able to excel. Our families were incredibly supportive. We had many friends in both states who helped us, whether by letting me stay with them when traveling on my own or by being willing to develop deep friendships with someone who was out of state half of the time. Our traveling and education did not harm Ryan’s and my relationship; instead, by having to communicate and sacrifice for each other’s goals, our relationship became much, much stronger than if we had followed another path. God truly took our meager offering and imbued it with heavenly power.