Gospel Story Finder

“There’s a bad one you’ll have to do with the brush, Mom,” said Freddie, pointing to a long smudge near the floor.
Mom raised her eyebrows. “I’m the one who made that. It was the time I had a really bad day at work. I came home so upset that I got careless and banged the wall with the vacuum cleaner while I was cleaning.”
“You were still upset after dinner, so Dad and I gave you a sandwich hug that night. Dad and I were the slices of bread and you were the peanut butter in the middle, remember?”
Mom nodded, and her eyes sparkled. “I sure do! It was the best thing that happened to me all that day.” With a few brush strokes, Mom covered the ugly mark.

Then there was the time they went underground. They heard one day that someone had discovered a cave up a nearby canyon, and from that moment on nothing would do but that they should find a cave of their own. So everyday after school, and all day on Saturdays, they could be seen up in the canyons with their cameras, pretending to be sightseeing and picture taking.

They were really cave hunting and doing it with the same all-out dedication they do everything. They checked out about every crack in every rock in the canyons, looking for the telltale air currents that reveal a cavern behind the crack. They learned to look for the slightest movement in spiderwebs and grasses; they lit matches and held them to cracks to see if the flame flickered under some imperceptible breeze.

For two months they searched, and they were prepared to go on searching until heavy snow made it impossible, and then to start again the following spring. But one day the search suddenly stopped for a moment as they squatted in front of a tiny crack looking at an extinguished match. They fumbled another into flame and held it in front of the crack. It was immediately blown out. Grabbing a nearby stick, they started to dig. The next day they returned with picks and shovels. Their callouses grew during the following days, but the crack remained a crack. They told no one about their search, knowing that many fine caves have been vandalized by thoughtless sightseers.

After 20 feet of hard digging, they came to a little room almost big enough for both of them to sit up in. A couple of anemic stalactites straggled down from the ceiling, but the room ended in a blank wall. They got the matches out, found another breezy crack, and started digging again. Fifteen feet farther in they broke through into a large cavern shimmering with the jeweled spires and daggers that cave hunters dream about. It had taken two months of search and 35 feet of back-breaking, dirty digging, but it was all worth it.

The cave turned out to be about 300 feet deep, fanning out on either side into many smaller rooms. They left a register of their discovery in the largest chamber and covered the entrance back up so that no one could come in and destroy the formations. For several years it was their own private, secret cave, a little magic kingdom that no other human beings had ever seen. Recently, members of a local spelunking club found the signs of digging at the entrance and broke through into the cave, but they too wish to preserve the cave’s beauty and have agreed to keep its location a secret.

A few days ago I was trying to read my scriptures, but I kept getting interrupted. First it was somebody coming to tell me I hadn’t done a job right. Then it was my little sisters fighting. I was about ready to explode. All I wanted was some peace and quiet. Was it asking too much just to be able to concentrate?
Finally, I lowered my head and said a silent prayer. I asked Heavenly Father to bless me that I could understand what he wanted me to learn from the scriptures. I finished my prayer and put the book down. All of a sudden, it was like all of the interruptions shut off.
I had been reading 1 Nephi 8, where it talks about Lehi’s dream about the tree of life and the iron rod. I thought about the people who get distracted and end up wandering in darkness. It occurred to me that I should not let myself get distracted by worries or noise.
Then I thought about the tree of life, and I re-read 1 Ne. 8:11–12: “And it came to pass that I did go forth and partake of the fruit thereof; and I beheld that it was most sweet, above all that I ever before tasted. …
“And as I partook of the fruit thereof it filled my soul with exceedingly great joy.” [1 Ne. 8:11–12]
The Lord had granted me peace, the peace of understanding. I sat thinking, grateful for the quiet in the room, but even more grateful for the newfound inner calm.

I constantly pray for my family’s success and well-being. But some things haven’t yet worked out how I’d hoped. I started to wonder if God was hearing my prayers. As my uncertainty worsened, I prayed less often. I thought, “Why should I pray when I don’t feel anything?”

But then one day, I realized that I was doubting God. He has always been my Father in Heaven, my greatest support and strength. I started crying. When I got home that day, I knelt to pray because I felt spiritually and emotionally lost.

After praying, I felt comfort, warmth, and love. I knew He was with me. I know Heavenly Father sees our struggles and hears our cries. From that day on, I understood that He has big plans for my family—plans that require His timing and my patience.

Composite photo illustration by Mike Boyland/iStock/Thinkstock and Oleksiy Fedorov/Hemera/Thinkstock
At the age of 23, I was called as a Relief Society president in our married student ward. I remember the inadequacies I felt, coupled with the desire to do my best. I was eager and excited to serve but doubted my ability to be a good leader.
After a few months as the Relief Society president, I felt that I wasn’t doing enough. I wanted to be able to connect with the sisters and be in tune with their individual needs, but I felt that I was coming up short.
I talked with my bishop and expressed my concerns. I explained how I just couldn’t reach all of the sisters I wanted to. I described how I wished that I had five of me to get the job done the way I thought it should be. I tried to keep my concerns light and humorous, but my eyes quickly filled with tears of discouragement. He smiled and offered some of the best leadership advice I have ever received.
“Are you familiar with the story of the shepherd who, upon losing one of his flock, left ‘the ninety and nine’ to find it?” he asked (see Luke 15:4–7). I nodded.
“There seems to be so much wisdom in that parable,” he continued. “The shepherd knew that the ninety and nine would be all right if he left them to look for the one lost sheep.”
Then my bishop offered the following advice:
“You see, the ninety and nine have a great way of looking after each other when you’re gone. They will buoy each other up and hold together very well. I suggest that you concentrate on the ones who seem lost. The rest will be OK.”
I felt a strong witness that what he had told me was true and that I didn’t need to worry about the entire flock all at once. My purpose was to find those who were lost and to invite them back into the fold. In that way, Heavenly Father’s purposes could be brought to pass, and I could be a tool in His hands.
As I heeded the bishop’s counsel, I felt a greater measure of understanding of how the Lord would have me serve in His kingdom. I also received spiritual fulfillment that strengthened me in my calling because I was serving as the Savior had instructed. Through the power of the Holy Ghost, my bishop had given me a great gift of understanding and insight.
I testify that as we pray and seek inspiration from our priesthood leaders, they will be inspired to show us how to lead in righteous ways.

When Australians Robert and Darice Dudfield arrived in Ethiopia in August 2020, they arrived in a country of about 120 million people—and not one missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on the ground. Ethiopia’s four fledgling congregations had not met since the pandemic hit, and although the Book of Mormon was available in their language, Amharic, few other Church materials were. The Dudfields knew that opening the new Ethiopia Addis Ababa Mission would be a great learning opportunity. They immediately got to work.
Soon after their arrival, eight Ethiopian elders and sisters were called to serve missions in their home country and received training via Zoom from Ghana. Only two months later, however, President Dudfield contracted a severe case of COVID-19.
Covered with vein-searching-bruises, he required oxygen and a month of hospitalization, and at times, Robert thought he wouldn’t make it. Darice put all such thoughts aside, “The Lord didn’t bring you to Ethiopia to die this early on!” she assured her husband. “You’ll get through this.”
It took another month of quarantining at home before he fully recovered. The Dudfields first setback taught them “there are tremendous lessons to be learned through trials. It’s all about our approach in dealing with our circumstances.”
In December 2020, Church services resumed, and the missionary force started growing, but so did political unrest, and President Russell M. Nelson ultimately decided the missionaries needed to move out of the country.
Miraculously, some of the missionaries serving in remote areas were able to fly to the nation’s capital before access to Addis Ababa was cut off. “On our mission, we learned that you’re never alone. The Lord is at the helm” recalled Darice. Missionaries who had been tested for COVID-19 were put on a plane to Kenya, where the Ethiopia mission was relocated.
They operated from Kenya, although most of their missionaries were reassigned temporarily to the Kenya Nairobi Mission. Those who remained in the Ethiopia mission used telephones and limited technology to connect with members and friends of the Church in Ethiopia, where local leaders took over the responsibility of missionary work.
Of the Kenya experience, senior missionaries, Elder and Sister Moyers said, “We experienced that unexpected and drastic change presses on our emotions, intellect, and especially our faith in our purpose . . . Being relocated is either a blessing or a challenge, and each missionary has the agency to choose which it will be for him or her.”
The Moyers served as member-leader support missionaries and helped to build the Church from within. President Dudfield said, “We learned the significant value of missionary service and the great value of senior couples. This is a call for those willing and able to serve. It changes your life.”
As things began to settle in Ethiopia, missionaries returned in stages. “Greeting the last of our missionaries back into Ethiopia at the end of June 2021 was an emotional and sacred experience,” the Dudfields recalled. The Church began to grow again, and the number of those consistently attending worship services increased from around 80 to over 400.
Reflecting on their three-year tenure in Ethiopia, the Dudfields’ saw the hand of the Lord bring great miracles to pass, including:
Relationships built with the ministry of peace, resulting in a $250,000 donation of funds for COVID-19 equipment plus ongoing support for important initiatives
Conferences and more frequent activities for youth, children, women, and young adults
Training to increase the quality of leadership and teaching
Seminary, institute, and the launch of the BYU-Pathway Worldwide program
Preparing 40 members to attend the temple for the first time
The translation of hymns and Church materials into local languages
A Light the World musical presentation, and a music video created for a Church global music festival
“What we learned from the people of Ethiopia . . . is that the things that are most important bring the greatest joy. Ethiopians are people of faith, with a great love of family and community.
“We see the countenance of Christ in images of Ethiopians and joy in their faces.”
On their decision to leave the Australia they love to help pioneer a path for future generations to the blessings of the gospel, the Dudfields testify, “We learned that we are all called where the Lord needs us. We absolutely felt His direction and guidance. We learned that faith precedes miracles. If we endure well, we will see many miracles.”

“Here you go, Tam? (Dad),” Tom said softly. Tom’s father slowly sat up on his sleeping mat. Tom helped him sip some fresh coconut juice.
Tam? and the rest of Tom’s family had been sick for days. Almost everyone else in the village was sick too. A pandemic had come to the island—the Spanish flu.
Tom walked outside. He was one of the only people who was well enough to take care of the others. And many families needed help.
I need more coconut juice, Tom thought. He climbed up a tall coconut tree. When he got to the top, he picked some coconuts and tossed them to the ground.
As he climbed down, Tom thought about the people in his village. It was scary to see so many of them sick.
Tom knew God had helped them then. And he knew God would help them now.
Tom cut the coconuts open. The sweet smell of coconut juice made him feel a little better. He walked to the next house in the village to share some juice with his neighbors. Then he went to the next house. And the next.
Weeks passed. Each day Tom worked hard to take care of everyone. He caught chickens so he could make warm soup to share. He carried buckets of water from the spring for people to drink.
Some of the people in the village died. Tam? died too. It was really hard for Tom. The whole village was sad. But through it all, Tom remembered that God loved him and would help him.
Tom didn’t stop helping people. And after a while, people started to get better!
Eventually the flu pandemic ended. People stopped getting sick. Tom and Ailama were even able to go to school again. Tom always missed Tam?. But he knew someday he would see his dad again. And he knew that Heavenly Father would always be there to help him.

Sabine’s joy has expanded as her own testimony of the gospel has become strong. “I felt I had to know for myself if what I believe is the right thing. I also decided to receive my patriarchal blessing. I did a lot of praying and searching and talking to people and asking questions and finding out for myself. But everything fits. You get this feeling inside that, of course, this is the right thing. It is so amazing.”
One scripture that especially speaks to Sabine is in Doctrine and Covenants 88:63. [D&C 88:63] It talks about seeking and finding, asking and receiving the answers, knocking and opening. For her, it works. “It’s so clear. If you do this, that will happen.” And as Sabine finds the answers and draws near to the Lord, she brings her friends with her, introducing practically everyone she meets to the gospel. Missionary work is so natural to her; it’s just a part of her life.

President Boyd K. Packer said that when he left home to serve in the military during World War II, he didn’t really know if the Church was true. But he wanted to have his own testimony of the gospel. He wanted to know!
While stationed in Japan, one night he couldn’t sleep. He left his tent and looked up at the star-filled sky and started to pray. Right in the middle of his prayer, it happened. Suddenly he felt a witness that the Church was true! Now he had a testimony for himself. This knowledge had been given to him by the Holy Ghost. (See “The Witness” from the Sunday afternoon session.)

A while back, I went with some friends to a party. When we got there, we saw that there were no parents to supervise us, and I immediately felt uncomfortable. I started to have fun, though, so I decided to stay and hang with my friends.
As the night progressed, I soon realized that people were drinking alcohol and that some of my friends had joined in. I had felt uncomfortable before, but now things had gone too far. Luckily, I’d decided years before what I would do in this situation, so I immediately called my dad to come pick me up.
When he showed up, I left the party, and a few of my friends who were also uncomfortable came with me. I sadly lost some close friends that night, but I gained better ones. And my relationship with my parents and my Heavenly Father improved immensely.
Looking back, I can’t help but think of the scripture in 2 Nephi 2:27, which says, “Wherefore, men … are free to choose liberty and eternal life, through the great Mediator of all men, or to choose captivity and death.”
That was not the last time I had to make a decision like this one. I will always be grateful for the first time I learned to choose liberty.

Craig checked the invoice as he loaded the sprinkler parts into the cardboard box and wondered if there was possibly a more boring job on the planet. He put the box on the conveyor belt and decided the girls down the line had it worse. At least he got to pull the orders. The girls got each order off the belt and had to sort through the boxes and verify that the order pullers had pulled the right stuff, then place their tag, “Checked by number whatever,” in the box and check the next one. And the next. Yawn.
He couldn’t complain too much, though. He’d found the job after high school graduation, when he’d been thrown into the uncomfortable phase of life known as “Now What?” He’d planned on a mission for a long time, and this job would help pay for one if he decided to go, but he wished his parents would help. He didn’t know if he could do it without their support.
He rubbed the back of his head. Another headache was coming on.
He noticed that Mike, another order puller, had stacked his boxes too high. Suddenly, most of them came crashing off the line, spilling sprinkler parts at the feet of the startled order pullers. There were groans from everywhere.
Craig was the closest to the disaster.
“Oh, no!” he said. The belt stopped.
“Congratulations,” said a voice at his elbow. Amber, an order checker, had come to see what had happened, while some of the others smirked. The break bell sounded, and all the order pullers except Craig made a beeline for the break room. The other order checkers left, too, leaving Amber standing there.
“I know,” said Craig. “Pretty swift.”
“No, I meant congratulations that you’re the only one who doesn’t swear his head off when that happens.”
Craig looked at her, surprised. He’d never really noticed her. He’d have thought her pretty if she didn’t have the worn, burnt-around-the-edges look. Her dark roots advertised obviously over-dyed blond hair, frizzy at the ends, and her perfume was eau de tobacco. But she had stunning green eyes, though they looked tired. That she would notice he never swore, unlike most of his co-workers, astonished him.
Amber was busily checking one of the boxes that had fallen to make sure it held the right parts.
“Hey, you don’t have to do that,” Craig told her.
Amber shrugged. “I’ll have to do it anyway. I might as well do it now.”
They worked in silence for a while, hearing barks of laughter from the break room. Whenever anyone opened the door, a cloud of cigarette smoke billowed in.
Craig sneezed and his head pounded. He rubbed at his eyes.
Amber asked, “You go to high school around here?”
Craig shook his head. “Graduated,” he said, “from Sand Valley High.”
She nodded. “I never did. Graduate. Used to go to Clairmont, though.” She looked at him as though she had more questions but said nothing.
When the bell rang to signal the end of break, she seemed relieved, though her co-workers gave her a hard time for not coming.
Craig didn’t see Amber again the rest of the day and didn’t really think about her. His mind was occupied with the mission decision. He knew what his parents’ reaction would be if he decided to serve. His dad would think he was wasting his time. His mom would go to pieces and would worry excessively for two years straight. Neither one would be happy for him, and he wondered whether they would even write. Mom, maybe, letters full of anguish. Dad, no. They had been active when he was little, but by the time he could drive himself to church, they had stopped going.
That Sunday he drove to church alone but found his friend Dan and sat with his family. Dan’s missionary farewell was only three weeks away. Dan would get plenty of letters from home. His parents were proud of him.
They were sitting near the back, and Craig found himself squinting to read the hymn numbers. Dan looked at him and laughed.
“You must be near-sighted. Better get some glasses.”
Craig was startled at the joking suggestion, but it stayed on his mind.
Lindsay Carter gave a talk on scripture study, using a quadruple combination as a visual aid. She blew along its pages, sending an obvious cloud of what appeared to be dust flying.
“Don’t let this happen to your scriptures,” she said, and the congregation laughed. Craig decided she had probably put flour or baby powder on the scriptures to emphasize her point. His own parents’ scriptures had sat on top of the bookcase for literally years. He could see them in his mind’s eye: one black set, one brown, his parents’ names imprinted in gold on their covers. Lindsay could easily have used their scriptures for her visual aid—no powder necessary.
He knew his parents’ inactivity had been gradual. Over several years’ time, the gospel, which had become so important to him, had conversely dwindled in importance to them. They had unintentionally drifted. Their distance from the gospel was now reflected in the way they acted and talked—more negative, more cynical, less hopeful. He wished his parents would come back. He prayed for it every night. But would a mission bring them closer to the Church or drive a larger wedge between them?
He spent a lot of time at work thinking about it, since his work didn’t require much thought. He’d been at it long enough to pull orders on autopilot. So he was unaware of Amber at his elbow again one day when she spoke.
“Can I ask you something?” Her eyes had dark circles around them, like she’d spent the weekend partying. “Are you happy?”
He wasn’t sure what he thought she would ask, but that wasn’t it. It caught him off guard.
“Yeah, I guess so,” he said. “I mean, when I’m doing what I know is right, I am.” He could tell the answer was important to her.
“See, I don’t expect to be happy constantly, but I’m mostly happy.” He hesitated. “I know God loves me. He’s given us the way to be happy if we’ll make the right choices.” He looked at Amber, surprised to hear himself saying things he’d never said before, but he was being nudged. She still needed to hear one thing more.
“God loves you, Amber. He knows you and wants you to be happy.”
She looked like she was about to cry. She turned away and went back to work. Craig wasn’t sure whether she believed him or not. But he knew what he had said was true.
After work he had an eye appointment. He realized he had been squinting at anything farther away than about 50 feet.
The ophthalmologist called him in and did so many things Craig wasn’t sure what he was doing. He sat Craig in front of a strange apparatus and kept turning wheels that changed the lenses in front of his eyes: right, left, both; asking him if each was better or worse until Craig was so confused he wasn’t sure of anything. After a while the doctor studied the data and told Craig the results.
“Looks like you’re quite near-sighted and will need some glasses or contacts.”
Craig took the prescription and staggered outside, shielding his dilated eyes from the sun. He sat down and waited until his vision cleared.
On Friday Amber came up to him.
“Hey, you got glasses. They make you look smart,” she said. “Not that you didn’t look smart before,” she added hastily. She hesitated for a moment, then asked him a question.
“What would you do if you were trying to get off drugs and your friends were all doing them at lunch and expected you to join them?”
He considered this, wondering if she could just go with them and not do any drugs. He decided against the suggestion, not sure how tough it would be to resist. The right answer hit him, as awkward or unlikely as it would be.
“Come have lunch with me.” It wasn’t important what anyone thought. Amber was the important one, and she needed to know it.
“Serious?” she said.
“Sure. I usually bring my lunch and go out to the patch of lawn next to Carpet World.”
They spent more time talking than eating lunch over the next several weeks. At first Craig didn’t think they would have much to say. Then he began looking forward to lunchtime.
They talked about their families. He told her he was disappointed in his parents, that there was a cold feeling in his home.
“Cold? Your house doesn’t sound so bad,” Amber said. “If your house is cold, my house is Antarctica. I’m working this job so I can get enough money together to move out. My mom sneaks around with boyfriends, and my dad thinks I’m some kind of a punching bag.”
Craig stared at her and suddenly noticed a series of bruises on her arms and one on her cheek he’d mistaken for too much dark blush. Why hadn’t he ever noticed those before? It was like he was seeing her for the first time, like he was seeing his father and mother for the first time. Since he’d gotten his new glasses, he could see a lot better far away. Yet he was looking at his immediate surroundings in a new way. It was like the old saying about not being able to see the forest for the trees.
When he went home that night, he hugged his mother and told her he loved her and asked his father if there was some yardwork that needed doing. He was getting a reality check and realizing he didn’t have it so bad after all. He mowed the lawn and started digging postholes for a fence, and his dad came out to help. His dad talked for quite a while, reminiscing about helping his own father on the farm and talking about the dream he’d had to become a pilot. Craig went inside that night, long after the sun had set, sweaty and exhausted, but feeling happy. His dad came in whistling and threw together a plate of nachos for all of them, something he hadn’t done in a long time.
Craig and Amber continued to have lunch together, though her friends made crude comments about it. She turned bright red and later apologized to Craig.
“It’s so hard,” she said. “People won’t let you change. They want to keep you down in the gutter with them.”
Craig was at a loss. “It’s okay,” he said. “Don’t worry about them. They don’t realize where they are or how bad it is.”
Amber’s friends made fun of him in his new glasses. They had caught wind of his talking about the gospel with Amber and called him the minister. It didn’t hurt Craig at all. He didn’t care what they thought.
Craig asked Dan what the missionaries taught, and Dan showed him the materials he’d collected. Dan was the type to be right on top of everything he did, diving in completely. He’d do well in the mission field, Craig was certain.
“See, here are the things someone new to the gospel needs to know.” As they discussed it, Craig hit upon the perfect subject for Amber.
“That’s it!” Craig pulled the lesson on the plan of salvation closer. “This is what she needs to hear.” Then he looked doubtful. “But maybe I should have the full-time missionaries teach her.”
Dan looked at his friend. “Somehow, I think you must be doing a great job teaching Amber. You’ll be able to reach her because you’re her friend.”
The next time they ate lunch together, Craig taught Amber about the plan of salvation.
“Oh!” Amber said, after he had explained about the premortal existence and our coming to earth to be tested, and our spirits going on beyond the grave. “Oh!”
She said nothing more that day, and he wondered what she thought. Was it too much to accept? His own testimony had grown as he studied and taught Amber. He again realized how much Heavenly Father loved all of them.
At lunch the next day, Amber said, “You know what you said about us being spirits? Well, I always thought that once you died, you were gone. Kaput. But what you told me rings true. It really does. And it explains a lot of things to me.” She took a bite of her apple. “Lots of nights, I lie awake. I hear my parents fighting. Sometimes I hear my dad slap my mom. Then I want to retreat, to be asleep, dreaming I have another family. Sometimes I fall asleep, and then I feel my Grandma Norene, my dad’s mother, right beside me. And she holds my hand. And I feel wonderful until I wake up. Do you think she worries about me?”
Craig whispered, “I’m sure she does.”
Craig invited Amber to Dan’s farewell. She arrived late to the church, breathless and wearing a dress that was a little too short, still smelling of cigarette smoke. She was nervous but excited. She spent the meeting listening closely.
After the meeting she wanted to know all about missions, and the questions came rapid-fire.
“How long do you go on a mission? How do you know what to teach? What if you go to a foreign country? Do you get paid by your church?”
Craig answered all her questions and told her he might be going on a mission soon. He was a little afraid of her reaction, but she actually clapped.
“That’s perfect! Of course! You’d be terrific at teaching people, just like you’ve taught me. You’ll be good at this!” She then said, “I’ll miss you, but I could write you letters, couldn’t I? And you could still answer my questions about the gospel.”
Craig nodded, a slow smile overtaking his face. Amber had just answered some of his questions for a change, like whether or not to go on a mission. And whether or not he’d have any support if he did. He realized he’d already started his missionary work. And he’d been really happy lately. He’d have to trust that the Lord would help him reach his parents somehow. Maybe it was in the way he saw things. He knew for sure it had a lot to do with faith.
The next time Amber came to church, he did a double take. She had dyed her hair a shiny chestnut, closer to her real color, and was wearing a long skirt, nice blouse, and sandals. Her makeup was light instead of her usual overkill, and she smelled like flowers instead of cigarette smoke. Her eyes looked vibrant, with a fire in them that had replaced the dull, half-lidded sleepy look she used to have.
Craig met her in the foyer. “These new glasses are great. I didn’t know how cute you were.”
Amber smiled and he noticed dimples in her cheeks he hadn’t seen before. For a split second, he could imagine her being baptized. He was reminded of the scripture about the Lord not looking on the outward appearance but upon what was in the heart.
At first he had worried that she might be changing because of an interest in him. Then he had seen that she was truly happy he would be going on a mission. Craig realized she thought of him like a brother, like someone who had given her an incredible gift.
His parents had seemed happier. He finally summoned up all his nerve and told them he was going on a mission. They were a little upset that he would be leaving, but they could see it was what he wanted to do.
Craig knew everything might not work out the way he wanted it to. He knew his parents might never make their way back to activity, but for the first time in a long time, he started to believe in what could happen if the people he loved wanted it as much as he did.
In the same way that he had started to see Amber going down into water in a white dress, he was starting to see his parents’ scriptures off the bookcase, dusted off, and open.

This year I was invited to take part in a student-led group that looks out for the well-being and mental health of the students at our high school. As soon as I received the invitation, I felt as if the Lord was directly telling me to join this class. But in order to take this class, I would need to drop my favorite class, weights. At first, I thought, “That doesn’t seem as fun as weights. What do I get out of this?”

But as I thought about it, the Spirit guided me and told me, “Nick, it’s not about what you can become. It is about what you can help others become.”

I now absolutely love this group at school, and I feel as if the Lord has led me every step of the way. I am so grateful for Him and His guidance. I testify that His guidance always leads us down the right paths!

Nick S., 17, Idaho, USA

Not long after our friend Carolyn Rasmus joined the faculty of Brigham Young University, a group of her new teaching colleagues invited her to join them on a Saturday hike in the mountains above Provo. Carolyn was not a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but she had felt particularly welcome in her new circle of associates. She eagerly joined them for the climb.
As the sun steadily rose, so did the hikers on the mountainside. Then, as the ten o’clock hour approached, the group began to find places to sit down. Carolyn thought, “This is wonderful. How did they know I needed the rest?” and she, too, looked for a comfortable spot to stretch out. But the participants seemed unusually earnest about this particular break, some pulling out pencils and notebooks while one intently dialed a transistor radio.
What then happened would be a turning point in her life forever. One of her friends said, “Carolyn, we need to explain something. This is the first Saturday in October, and for us that means not only lovely weather and bright fall foliage, but it also means a general conference of the Church. As Latter-day Saints, wherever we are or whatever we are doing, we stop and listen. So we are going to sit here among the oak and the pines, look out over the valley below, and listen to the prophets of God for a couple of hours.”
“A couple of hours!” thought Carolyn. “I didn’t know there were prophets of God still living,” she said, “and I certainly didn’t know there were two hours’ worth!” Little did she know that they were going to stop again at two o’clock that afternoon for another two hours and then invite her to tune in at home for four more the next day.
Well, the rest is history. With the gift of a leather-bound copy of the scriptures from her students, the love of friends and families in the LDS ward she began to attend, and spiritual experiences we want all who make their way into the light of the gospel to have, Carolyn was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. The rest is, as they say, history. With her introduction to general conference that day sitting high atop Y Mountain, Sister Rasmus had seen her own personal fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophetic invitation: “Come ye, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; and he will teach us of his ways, and we will walk in his paths: for out of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.”

Dandelions sparkled on the emerald grass, trees gathered shade beneath their branches, and lilacs spread perfume over the hot summer day. Father was in the meadow tending the fruit trees, and mother sang as she set her clothes to the wind. Resting in the crook of the elm’s strong arms, I watched over the twins at play. My eye, however, wandered toward the lane and longed for uncharted trails.
Then, something moved along the shadow line cast by the rails of our fence. I sat up and squinted, straining to see the first glimpse of our expected visitor. Like a sentinel, I shouted a warning. “Aunt Lillian is coming, Mother!”
She froze with a clothespin in her mouth and folded sheet in her hands, then turned to where I pointed. “Come down from there now, Em!” she called. “Greet your aunt in a ladylike fashion.”
I swung down from the tree and smoothed my clothes, then gathered the twins and brushed their hair with my hands. When my aunt had climbed out of her car, she gave us hugs and kisses, then turned toward my mother and father, anxious to catch up on all the news.
It was not until the following day that I had an opportunity to talk with Aunt Lillian. She sought me out as I folded clothes in the sun.
“Busy at it, huh, Em?” she asked with an easy smile.
“There’s always something to do,” I sighed.
“Here, I’ll help you,” she offered as she took an apron from the pile.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the sun shine on her hair and marveled at how much she looked like my mother. She was younger, but their features were much the same. Yet, there was an air of excitement about her to be sure, that my mother did not have, and she smiled often as though she knew a happy secret. I wanted to share that happiness if I could.
“Did you like being a missionary?”
“I loved it, Em,” she replied sincerely. She looked at me with sparkling eyes that seemed to see beyond where they looked. “There’s so much to do though … I almost regret that it’s over. Still, my call was only for eighteen months so it was time to come home.”
“What’s it like?” I asked eagerly. “I mean, it must have been very exciting.”
Aunt Lillian smiled, then touched my arm with a gentle hand. “During the nights in Central America you can sometimes hear jungle noises. The banks of the rivers are covered with animal tracks, and where there was a path only a few months ago, the tangled growth soon gobbles it up again.” Her eyes held a dreamy, faraway look, and a minute passed before she continued. “The people are kind and uncomplicated—much the same as they are everywhere. They love their families, plant crops, wash clothes. They fight disease and pray.”
“The same?” I pleaded disappointedly.
“Certainly.” She laughed softly. “Oh, I see, you think things there are different and fascinating. Well, I suppose they are in a way. They don’t have television, cars, and things like that as much as we do. But day to day, things are really not so very different. The children ask the same questions you are asking.”
“But being a welfare missionary was more exciting than it is living here, wasn’t it?” I insisted.
Aunt Lillian smiled. “Doing the Lord’s work is always exciting wherever you are,” she answered. Then she asked, “Does being a missionary appeal to you?”
“Oh, yes! More than staying here,” I replied. “Mother washes clothes on Monday, irons on Tuesday, cooks meals every day. And it’s all so boring! I don’t think I want to get married and have children when I grow up. I want to travel and do different things like you’ve done.”
My aunt nodded and moved the folded clothes to one side, then sat on the wooden bench. “I know exactly how you feel, Em,” she confessed. “When I was a girl, I climbed trees too. It was my way of getting a better view of things. Your mother was always the more domestic one.”
“Yes, she’s told me.”
“But to her, those things aren’t boring. They’re her life and they’re very important. However, that doesn’t mean that you have to be exactly like her. Wouldn’t it be awful if we all did the same thing? Besides, your mother and father allow you to be as you are, don’t they?”
I nodded. “Mother doesn’t really like me climbing trees very much.”
Aunt Lillian laughed. “My mother didn’t either,” she said. “But she didn’t stop me any more than your mother stops you. I think,” my aunt continued, glancing toward the house, “that the Lord shapes our lives. And your parents are allowing Him to shape yours. In good time, you’ll get tired of climbing trees, then you’ll stop.”
“When did you stop climbing them?”
“When I had seen all there was to see from up there. Then I followed where my heart would lead. I was asked if I’d like to go on a mission. Now, I’m home again and hope to marry and have children someday. But there are many other things I still want to do too.”
“Oh, Aunt Lillian,” I gasped. “I can’t imagine you marrying and having children! You’ve had such an exciting life!”
“Honey,” she said with a curious smile, “you can only see the side you live with. Think of it from my point of view. I’ve helped other people with their children and taught them and tended them when they were sick. But they were other women’s children. As much as you envy me and what I did, I sometimes envy your mother’s contentment with her family. Now I want one of my own. Your mother has represented a family with roots ever since our parents died, and I’ve always drawn strength from her. Yes, I’m like a branch. I’ve reached and extended myself, doing what I was called to do, but I never let go of the root.”
“I think I’d like to be a branch too,” I replied.
“You may well be,” she replied softly. “But both are important, for it takes many people doing many different things to accomplish all we are meant to do. We all have a place and are loved by our Heavenly Father.”
“Do you think I’ll ever find my place?” I wondered. “Or will I always just see things from the top of a tree?”
“The Lord will lead you to your place, honey,” she said with a brilliant smile. “And I know you’ll be content there. Then you’ll do your best, and that’s the important thing, you know.”
“I ask too many questions, don’t I?”
“A question is the only way to an answer,” she replied. Then she touched my hair and smiled. “Now suppose we take the clothes indoors for your mother.”
I walked beside my aunt and watched her from the corner of my eye. She looked so like my mother that it was hard to believe they could be so different.
Then, as we entered the kitchen, I could smell the mouth-watering aroma of freshly baked pies, pies that only my mother could bake. With a smile, I knew my Aunt was right. The important thing—no matter what we do—is to do our best and find contentment in doing it. Since both my mother and my aunt do that, maybe they really aren’t so different after all.

After the discussion, Mother began to read the books they left and to pray about what she should do. It wasn’t long until she decided to be baptized. She was worried though about telling my grandmother.
Finally, however, Mom got the courage to call Grandma on the phone and to tell her that she was going to be baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
There was an empty, cold silence on the other end of the line. At last my grandmother said, “I’m heartsick and disappointed in you,” and then she hung up the receiver.
It was a long time before Grandma would talk to any of us on the phone or answer our letters; so you can imagine how happy my mother was when Grandma called one day and said, “I’ve been thinking about your baptism and I’ve decided that it’s all right for you to be a Mormon, dear, as long as you’re happy.” And Mom really was happy.

I grew up in Norway. The nearest temple was in Stockholm, Sweden, an 8- to 10-hour drive away. Needless to say, any trip to the temple took careful planning and deliberation. Our stake planned two visits to the temple for the youth each year; several wards would rent a bus and go to the temple for a weekend. It was fun to go with other youth, but my family and I wanted to go to the temple together sometime.
So one year we decided to go to Stockholm during our summer vacation. It was a great experience, and it soon became a pattern for our summers. We would camp at a campground close to the temple. Each morning we would get up early for a baptismal session with other families from Norway who had come to the temple. Afterward we would play football and go swimming at the campground.
These summers are sacred memories for me now. Although we didn’t live close enough to the temple to go there each month, it was always a special occasion when we could go. And even though the car ride was long and tedious, the Lord blessed us for our sacrifice. The spiritual experiences I had at the temple helped me develop my love for the temple and its ordinances. They also brought us closer together as a family.

“I shall always remember the faith of an old Maori brother in New Zealand. As the missionaries came to his humble little fishing shack located well off the beaten track, he hurried to find an envelope containing the money and letter to the missionaries. This fine brother didn’t have the ability to read the letter when it arrived, for it was written in English and his tongue was Maori, but he could read the financial figures contained in it, and he recognized the letterhead as being from the mission office. He thought the mission needed the cash amount mentioned for some special purpose, and he had it all ready for the missionaries. After translating the letter for him, it was now clear that the letter merely confirmed his annual tithing settlement and stated the total amount paid for the previous year. His faith was such that he stood ready to pay the same amount all over again if the Lord’s servants needed it for the work.” (Robert L. Simpson, Conference Report, April 1966, p. 52.)

After my baptism in 1994, I told my Heavenly Father that I desired to be useful to him and that I would serve in our branch as best as I could. In 1995, I was called to serve as the branch president.
Sometimes my tasks are hard, and there have been many challenges, especially during my first months of service. But when I kneel down and ask Heavenly Father for his help, he never denies me his support.
Michele Bartoli,Lecce Branch, Italy Catania Mission

Roger Bannister was a medical student in England who had an ambitious hope. He desired to be the first man to run a mile (1.6 km) under four minutes. For much of the first half of the 20th century, field and track enthusiasts had anxiously awaited the day the four-minute-mile barrier would be broken. Over the years many outstanding runners had come close, but still the four-minute barrier stood. Bannister dedicated himself to an ambitious training schedule with the hope of realizing his goal of setting a new world record. Some in the sporting community had begun to doubt whether the four-minute mile could be broken. Supposed experts had even hypothesized the human body was physiologically unable to run at such speeds over such a long distance. On a cloudy day on May 6, 1954, Roger Bannister’s great hope was realized! He crossed the finish line in 3:59.4, setting a new world record. His hope to break the four-minute-mile barrier became a dream which was accomplished through training, hard work, and dedication.

When Spencer Cornwall was only four years old, he learned to play music on a pump organ. He couldn’t reach the pedals, so his brother pumped them for him. Spencer was so eager to learn that he would have a lesson in the morning, practice in the afternoon, and then go running back the next morning for another lesson.
When Brother Cornwall was older and had become an accomplished musician, he became music supervisor of the Salt Lake Elementary School District. He also directed the Tabernacle Choir for twenty-three years. He thought making music was a wonderful reason for people to get together. He said, “My greatest pleasure was in teaching children to learn to sing and to discover the joy of making their own music.” Music was his life, and he was still composing when he was ninety-five years old.