Gospel Story Finder

In 2020, Johnny and I were both called to serve in the Mexico Villahermosa Mission. Then COVID-19 hit. The First Presidency gave missionaries the option to stick with their original timeline and possibly be reassigned—or delay their mission with a chance to serve in their original assignments.
After lots of prayer, I chose to delay and continue school at Brigham Young University–Hawaii for the time being.
The wait brought blessings I didn’t expect. When I finally made it to Mexico 18 months later, Johnny had just transferred there from the Las Vegas West Mission. We ended up in the same district for over four months and became good friends.
After Johnny went home, we kept in touch and wrote each other every week. One Monday, I asked him, “What are some of your goals and dreams for your life?”
He wrote back, “One of my goals is to get sealed in the temple and have a family that grows up in the gospel.”
Reading that, I had a moment of clarity—I wanted to marry him! His priorities were clear. Honestly, if someone had asked me that same question, I probably would’ve said something like “travel the world” or “run an ultramarathon.” While these are worthwhile goals, Johnny helped me see what matters most.
After my mission, Johnny and I started dating. Eventually, we were sealed in the Mesa Arizona Temple.
Kneeling across the altar from him, I couldn’t help but think about how our choices—especially to keep our covenants—had brought us here.

Our prophet is also a good example of someone who looked with his spiritual eyes, felt and understood with his heart, and then helped. President Gordon B. Hinckley was only twenty years old when his mother died. He had younger brothers and sisters at home, and everyone in the family was very sad. Ramona was sixteen and about to graduate from high school. She had no dress for that special occasion, and she thought nobody noticed. But her older brother Gordon saw her need, understood how she felt, and helped. Using some money he had saved for graduate school, he bought her a new dress. His kindness made her feel loved.

I recall a few years ago I was supervising the missions in western Europe. We needed a mission president with a certain language proficiency. Several names were brought forward, but none of them seemed to be right. Then one of the Brethren remembered that he had met a man—I think it was in Korea—several years before. He was a member of the Church who was in the customs service. Somehow just the mention of that name and the Spirit confirmed it. He was called, by virtue of the time pressures, by telephone to preside over the mission. I visited him a few weeks later. He was living in Washington, D.C. He was within reach of the number one office in his category. His lifetime had been spent progressing through the ranks, thinking that perhaps one day he would stand at the head of that division. His senior officer had indicated that because of a health problem he would retire early and that this man was being recommended for that position. It was just at that time that the telephone call came.
I wanted to get acquainted with him and was invited to stay overnight. He brought me a message from his superior. The message was this: “Tell that Brother Packer of yours that you’re no missionary; I’ve worked with you for 30 years, and you haven’t converted me. Tell them they’re making a mistake. And you’re making a mistake. You’re a fool.” (I’m leaving out one word.) “If you will give up your retirement and all that you’ve reached for—why? Why would you do it?”
Simple answer: he’d been called. We live to know, in this church, that the response to a call does not depend on the testimony and witness of the one who delivers the call. It depends, rather, on the testimony and witness of the one who receives it.
It was very interesting. We were looking for a man who spoke French. It was not until after he was in the mission field, and we had some opportunities and responsibilities relating to some of the problems of some members we had in Spain, that we discovered that he wrote and spoke Spanish fluently. I suppose if we’d searched through the Church for a man who spoke French, spoke Spanish, and had had some diplomatic experience, particularly as it related to customs work, we would have gone afar in the world and not found him. Yet it was through the “chance” memory of one of the Brethren that he’d met a man a few years before in Korea who spoke French that he was found.

I should like to be for a few minutes a witness in support of the proposition that the gospel of Jesus Christ has been restored in our day and that this is His Church, which was organized under His direction through the Prophet Joseph Smith. I should like to give some reasons for the faith I have and for my allegiance to the Church. Perhaps I can do this more quickly by referring to an interview I had in London, England, in 1939, just before the outbreak of [World War II]. I had met a very prominent English gentleman, a member of the House of Commons, formerly one of the justices of the Supreme Court of England. In my conversations with this gentleman on various subjects, “vexations of the soul” he called them, we talked about business and law, about politics, international relations and war, and we frequently discussed religion. He called me on the phone one day and asked if I would meet him at his office and explain some phases of the gospel. He said: “I think there is going to be a war. If there is, you will have to return to America, and we may not meet again.” His statement regarding the imminence of war and the possibility that we would not meet again proved to be prophetic. When I went to his office, he said he was intrigued by some things I had told him. He asked me to prepare a brief on Mormonism … and discuss it with him as I would discuss a legal problem.
He said: “You have told me that you believe that Joseph Smith was a prophet. You have said to me that you believe that God the Father and Jesus of Nazareth appeared to Joseph Smith. I cannot understand how a barrister and solicitor from Canada, a man trained in logic and evidence, could accept such absurd statements. What you tell me about Joseph Smith seems fantastic, but I think you should take three days at least to prepare a brief and permit me to examine it and question you on it.”
I suggested that we proceed at once and have an examination for discovery, which is briefly a meeting of opposing sides in a lawsuit where the plaintiff and defendant, with their attorneys, meet to examine each other’s claims and see if they can find some area of agreement, thus saving the time of the court later on. I said perhaps we could see whether we had some common ground from which we could discuss my “fantastic” ideas. He agreed to that quite readily.
I can only give you, in the few minutes at my disposal, a condensed and abbreviated synopsis of the three-hour conversation which followed. In the interest of time I shall resort to the question-and-answer method rather than narration. I began by asking, “May I proceed, sir, on the assumption that you are a Christian?”
“I am.”
“I assume you believe in the Bible—the Old and New Testament?”
“I do!”
“Do you believe in prayer?”
“I do!”
“You say that my belief that God spoke to a man in this age is fantastic and absurd?”
“To me, it is.”
“Do you believe that God ever did speak to anyone?”
“Certainly. All through the Bible we have evidence of that.”
“Did He speak to Adam?”
“Yes.”
“To Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Jacob, Joseph, and on through the prophets?”
“I believe He spoke to each of them.”
“Do you believe that contact between God and man ceased when Jesus appeared on the earth?”
“No, such communication reached its climax, its apex at that time.”
“Do you believe that Jesus was the Son of God?”
“He was.”
“Do you believe, sir, that after Jesus was resurrected a certain lawyer, who was also a tent maker by the name of Saul of Tarsus, when on his way to Damascus, talked with Jesus of Nazareth, who had been crucified, resurrected, and had ascended into heaven?”
“I do.”
“Whose voice did Saul hear?”
“It was the voice of Jesus Christ, for He so introduced Himself.”
“Then, … I am submitting to you in all seriousness that it was standard procedure in Bible times for God to talk to man.”
“I think I will admit that, but it stopped shortly after the first century of the Christian era.”
“Why do you think it stopped?”
“I can’t say.”
“You think that God hasn’t spoken since then?”
“I am sure He hasn’t.”
“There must be a reason; can you give me a reason?”
“I do not know.”
“May I suggest some possible reasons: perhaps God does not speak to man anymore because He cannot. He has lost the power.”
He said, “Of course that would be blasphemous.”
“Well, then, if you don’t accept that, perhaps He doesn’t speak to men because He doesn’t love us anymore. He is no longer interested in the affairs of men.”
“No,” he said, “God loves all men, and He is no respecter of persons.”
“Well, then, if He could speak and if He loves us, then the only other possible answer, as I see it, is that we don’t need Him. We have made such rapid strides in science, we are so well educated, that we don’t need God anymore.”
And then he said, and his voice trembled as he thought of impending war: “Mr. Brown, there never was a time in the history of the world when the voice of God was needed as it is needed now. Perhaps you can tell me why He doesn’t speak.”
My answer was: “He does speak. He has spoken, but men need faith to hear Him.”
Then we proceeded to prepare what I may call a “profile of a prophet.” … We agreed, between us, that the following characteristics should distinguish a man who claims to be a prophet.
A. He will boldly claim that God [has] spoken to him.
B. Any man so claiming would be a dignified man with a dignified message; no table-jumping, no whisperings from the dead, no clairvoyance, but an intelligent statement of truth.
C. Any man claiming to be a prophet of God would declare his message without any fear and without making any weak concessions to public opinion.
D. If he were speaking for God, he could not make concessions although what he taught would be new and contrary to the accepted teachings of the day. A prophet bears witness to what he has seen and heard and seldom tries to make a case by argument. His message and not himself is important.
E. Such a man would speak in the name of the Lord, saying, “Thus saith the Lord,” as did Moses, Joshua, and others.
F. Such a man would predict future events in the name of the Lord, and they would come to pass, as did Isaiah and Ezekiel.
G. He would have not only an important message for his time but often a message for all future time, such as Daniel, Jeremiah, and others had.
H. He would have courage and faith enough to endure persecution and to give his life, if need be, for the cause he espoused, such as Peter, Paul, and others did.
I. Such a man would denounce wickedness fearlessly. He would generally be rejected or persecuted by the people of his time, but later generations, the descendants of his persecutors, would build monuments in his honor.
J. He would be able to do superhuman things, things that no man could do without God’s help. The consequence or result of his message and work would be convincing evidence of his prophetic calling. “By their fruits ye shall know them” [Matt. 7:20].
K. His teachings would be in strict conformity with scripture, and his words and his writings would become scripture. “For the prophecy came not in old time by the will of man: but holy men of God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost” (2 Pet. 1:21).
Now, I have given but an outline which you can fill in and amplify and then measure and judge the Prophet Joseph Smith by the work and stature of other prophets.
As a student of the life of the Prophet Joseph Smith for more than 50 years, I say to you … , by these standards Joseph Smith qualifies as a prophet of God.
I believe that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God because he talked like a prophet. He was the first man since the Apostles of Jesus Christ were slain to make the claim which prophets have always made, [namely,] that God had spoken to him. He lived and died like a prophet. I believe he was a prophet of God because he gave to this world some of the greatest of all revelations. I believe that he was a prophet of God because he predicted many things which have come to pass, things which only God could bring to pass.
John, the beloved disciple of Jesus, declared, “The testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy” [Rev. 19:10]. If Joseph Smith had the testimony of Jesus, he had the spirit of prophecy, and if he had the spirit of prophecy, he was a prophet. I submit to you, and I submitted to my friend, that as much as any man who ever lived he had a testimony of Jesus, for, like the Apostles of old, he saw Him and heard Him speak. He gave his life for that testimony. I challenge any man to name one who has given more evidence of the divine calling of Jesus Christ than did the Prophet Joseph Smith.
I believe the Prophet Joseph Smith was a prophet because he did many superhuman things. One was translating the Book of Mormon. Some people will not agree, but I submit to you that the Prophet Joseph Smith in translating the Book of Mormon did a superhuman work. I ask you … to undertake to write a story on the ancient inhabitants of America. Write as he did without any source of material. Include in your story 54 chapters dealing with wars, 21 historical chapters, 55 chapters on visions and prophecies, and, remember, when you begin to write on visions and prophecies you must have your record agree meticulously with the Bible. You write 71 chapters on doctrine and exhortation, and, here too, you must check every statement with the scriptures or you will be proven to be a fraud. You must write 21 chapters on the ministry of Christ, and everything you claim He said and did and every testimony you write in your book about Him must agree absolutely with the New Testament.
I ask you, would you like to undertake such a task? I would suggest to you too that you must employ figures of speech, similes, metaphors, narrations, exposition, description, oratory, epic, lyric, logic, and parables. Undertake that, will you? I ask you to remember that the man that translated the Book of Mormon was a young man who hadn’t had the opportunity of schooling that you have had, and yet he dictated that book in just over two months and made very few, if any, corrections. For over 100 years, some of the best students and scholars of the world have been trying to prove from the Bible that the Book of Mormon is false, but not one of them has been able to prove that anything he wrote was not in strict harmony with the scriptures. …
Joseph Smith undertook and accomplished other superhuman tasks; among them I list the following: He organized the Church. (I call attention to the fact that no constitution effected by human agency has survived 100 years without modification or amendment, even the Constitution of the United States. The basic law or constitution of the Church has never been altered.) He undertook to carry the gospel message to all nations, which is a superhuman task still in progress. He undertook, by divine command, to gather thousands of people to Zion. He instituted vicarious work for the dead and built temples for that purpose. He promised that certain signs should follow the believers, and there are thousands of witnesses who certify that this promise has been fulfilled.
I said to my friend, “… I cannot understand your saying to me that my claims are fantastic. Nor can I understand why Christians who claim to believe in Christ would persecute and put to death a man whose whole purpose was to prove the truth of the things they themselves were declaring, namely, that Jesus was the Christ. I could understand them for persecuting Joseph if he had said, ‘I am Christ,’ or if he had said, ‘There is no Christ,’ or if he had said someone else is Christ. Then Christians believing in Christ would be justified in opposing him. But what he said was, ‘He whom ye claim to serve, declare I unto you. … I testify that I saw Him and talked with Him. He is the Son of God. Why persecute me for that?’” …
Perhaps some of you are wondering how the judge reacted to our discussion. He sat and listened intently; he then asked some very pointed and searching questions, and at the end of the period he said: “Mr. Brown, I wonder if your people appreciate the import of your message. Do you?” He said, “If what you have told me is true, it is the greatest message that has come to this earth since the angels announced the birth of Christ.”
This was a judge speaking, a great statesman, an intelligent man. He threw out the challenge: “Do you appreciate the import of what you say?” He added: “I wish it were true. I hope it may be true. God knows it ought to be true. I would to God,” he said, and he wept as he said it, “that some man could appear on earth and authoritatively say, ‘Thus saith the Lord.’”
As I intimated, we did not meet again. I have brought to you very briefly some of the reasons why I believe that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. But undergirding and overarching all that, I say to you from the very center of my heart that by the revelations of the Holy Ghost I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. While these evidences and many others that could be cited may have the effect of giving one an intellectual conviction, only by the whisperings of the Holy Spirit can one come to know the things of God. By those whisperings I say I know that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God. I thank God for that knowledge.

Rene and Myra Holganza of the Taytay First Ward, Cainta Philippines Stake in Metro Manila, have strong testimonies that the Lord blesses those who keep His commandments. Because good jobs are hard to find in the Philippines, the Holganzas spent nine years working in Japan. When they returned to Manila, however, financial troubles came in waves. Because of serious health problems and the accompanying medical bills, they had to mortgage their home. Rene was unable to find employment for some time, so they couldn’t make their mortgage payments, and the bank threatened to foreclose. Seeking assistance from the Church, they went to their bishop, who asked Rene if he was a full-tithe payer. “I said no,” Rene recalls. “He asked me if I intended to be a full-tithe payer. I said yes. So from that time on I did pay a full tithe and a little more to make up for the past.”
To pay their bills and avoid foreclosure on the mortgage, they tried to sell their home, but no one wanted to buy it. Because of a mudslide in a nearby neighborhood, nobody wanted to take a chance on property in the area, even though the price they were asking was below market value. Eventually they stopped trying to sell the house, expecting the bank to foreclose and sell the property at a very low price.
The Holganzas went to their bishop again, and he recommended that they fast and continue to pay tithing. He told them the Lord would bless them in their need. “So we fasted,” says Rene, “and I continued to pay my tithes and offerings, and I believed something would work out.”
Then one day a man approached the Holganzas unexpectedly and asked them if their house was for sale. They said yes, and he offered to buy it for more than their original asking price. With this money they were able to pay off their mortgage, eliminate almost all their debts, and pay the loan on the taxi Rene now drives to support his family. They see this blessing as a miracle and feel it is a direct result of keeping the law of tithes and offerings, exercising faith in the Lord, and following inspired counsel.

In August, cheers were heard as youth and adults celebrated the dedication of the Kyiv Ukraine Temple. Youth and adults participated in the grand cultural celebration. Participants came from several countries and represented diverse cultures. Some practiced for months to get ready for the celebration, which included a choir, orchestra, and dances.
The youth enjoyed performing dances and wearing traditional costumes from their country. They were also delighted to be able to perform for President Thomas S. Monson.
“The best part was when I saw the prophet,” said Michael Minasyan, 14, from Armenia. “I was right in front of him, and he waved to us. I felt the spirit that I was waiting for.”

It had been years since I had attended sacrament meeting at the care center. But now, representing the stake Relief Society presidency, I had come back to visit a ward conference session at the nursing home.
As the prelude music signaled the beginning of the meeting, I glanced around the room. Some of those who attended were suffering the infirmities of old age. Others had been stricken with abnormalities at birth, and their whole lives had been upward struggles. Just to sit or to be strapped to a wheelchair was an accomplishment.
To my left was a familiar wheelchair, a little apart from the semicircle. I had seen this little lady each time I had visited. Thick, straight hair, squared to the chin, framed her bony face. Her jaw was twisted and loose, and her long tongue often hung out. The rest of her body was twisted and contorted, as though her joints were trying to bend in the wrong direction. But, strapped to her wheelchair, she seemed to await the meeting as anxiously as anyone else.
We sang and prayed, and as the meeting progressed, I watched the sacrament table. One of the priests seemed confident and experienced, while the other looked nervous. Then the deacons caught my eye as they approached the table, received the trays, and began to pass the sacrament.
One of them stepped up to the woman in the wheelchair. Her arm was twisted through the bar of the arm rail; her palsied shoulder did not respond. As the deacon approached, her twisted, toothless mouth fell open. Without hesitation, he took a piece of bread and placed it on her tongue.
From across the room came a high-pitched voice: “Did you see that sweet boy give bread to Rosie?”
At the amen ending the prayer on the water, I thought, “Shall I get up and help her with that tiny cup? How will she manage?” While I sat in my chair, the same deacon gently poured the water into that helpless mouth, blessing Rosie again with his service.
I sat, ashamed at my failure to act. Then, as that deacon stood before me, I saw the trembling in his hands, the questioning in his eyes, a pleading to know if he had done right. All I had seen was his strength and compassion. I nodded and tried to reassure him with a smile.
Had he been primed or prepared for that moment, or was it spontaneous? Either way, it was a hard thing for a 12-year-old boy. And I was overcome with appreciation for a young priesthood servant quietly fulfilling just another quorum assignment.

1802–1880
“I determined to trust in the Lord and stand bravely.”
She worked as a seamstress to support her family while her husband, Addison, was on a mission.
She took her children to the Salt Lake Valley in a covered wagon.
She served a mission with her husband in French Polynesia.
On her mission, she learned the Tahitian language and shared the gospel.
In S. George Ellsworth, The History of Louisa Barnes Pratt (1998), 65.
“It is a spiritual feast to … hear [Nabota and Telii] pray.”
They were some of the first Church members from the island of Tubuai in French Polynesia.
They learned the gospel from Elder Addison Pratt.
They gave him a place to stay, taught him to speak Tahitian, and traveled with him.
They taught others on the island about the Church and helped them live the gospel.
Addison Pratt in the Millennial Star, August 1, 1845, 59.

Maria had been less active for more than 20 years. A few months ago, we spent a couple of hours with her in our home, exploring her family through census and other records. At one point she burst into tears exclaiming, “I’ve learned more about my family in two hours than I’ve known in my whole life!”
At the end of our time together, we introduced to her the Relatives Around Me feature of the FamilyTree app. It turned out that my husband and I both are distantly related to Maria. She burst into tears again, saying she had thought she was alone. She never knew she had family in the area. A few weeks later Maria met with our bishop. She is now working on preparing for the temple, and she has met many “new” cousins in our ward!
Carol Riner Everett, North Carolina, USA

One day my missionary companion and I received a phone call from a ward mission leader. He told me there was a woman who was dying and wanted the elders to give her a blessing. I immediately felt uncomfortable but said we would do it. As I hung up the phone, I couldn’t help but think, Bless someone who is dying? What kind of blessing do you give to someone who is about to die?
Before we left I knelt down and prayed. I asked Heavenly Father to help me exercise my priesthood.
We met the ward mission leader outside the house where the woman was staying. He told us they hadn’t expected her to live through the previous night.
The mother led us to the room where her daughter was. She knocked on the door and said, “Honey, the elders are here to give you a blessing.” As she opened the door, I caught my first glimpse of the woman.
My heart ached as I saw her lying on the bed. She was a woman in her mid-40s and completely bald due to medical treatment. She slowly opened her eyes, and I smiled as kindly as I could.
It was decided that my companion would anoint her and I would seal the anointing.
My mind raced as I tried to think of what to say, but nothing seemed right. My companion finished, and I looked at her, so frail looking, so weak. What am I going to do? I thought. Just bless her was the reply to my silent question.
I felt a great calm come over me as I laid my hands upon her head. I called her by name, stated my authority, and paused. Then the Spirit took over. Words flowed to my mind as I blessed her. Where was all this coming from? It was amazing. Never before had I given a blessing like this.
I closed in the name of Jesus Christ, took my hands off her head, and wiped my eyes. I had started crying almost as soon as I had begun. She took my hand in hers and whispered, “Thank you.”
“Thank you” was all I could say in return. Everyone in the room was crying. The mother said, “You can feel the Spirit so strongly.” The woman’s sister took me aside and said, “Thank you. She has been so scared. That was exactly what she needed to hear.” As I left I thought about what had happened. I should have remembered that blessings don’t come from men. They come from God through men. That blessing was exactly what she needed to hear because Heavenly Father knew what she needed.

I’ve told the story about the little baby nine months old who was born blind. The father came up with him one Sunday and said, “Brother Cowley, our baby hasn’t been blessed yet, we’d like you to bless him.” I said, “Why have you waited so long?” “Oh, we just didn’t get around to it.” …

I said, “All right, what’s the name?” So he told me the name, and I was just going to start when he said, “By the way, give him his vision when you give him a name. He was born blind.” It shocked me, but then said to myself, why not? Christ said to his disciples when he left them, “Greater things than I have done shall you do.” (See John 14:12.) I had faith in that father’s faith. After I gave that child its name, I finally got around to giving it its vision. That boy is about twelve years old now. The last time I was back there I was afraid to inquire about him. I was sure he had gone blind again. That’s the way my faith works sometimes. So I asked the branch president about him. And he said, “Brother Cowley, the worst thing you ever did was to bless that child to receive his vision. He’s the meanest kid in this neighborhood; always getting into mischief.” Boy I was thrilled about that kid getting into mischief!

On another occasion, near the Christmas season, I had the opportunity to meet in the Church Office Building with a group of handicapped children. There were about sixty in the group. My heart literally melted as I met with them. They sang for me “I Am a Child of God,” “Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer,” and “As I Have Loved You, Love One Another.” There was such an angelic expression on their faces and such a simple trust expressed in their comments that I felt I was on sacred ground. They presented to me a beautiful booklet where each one had prepared a special page illustrating those blessings for which he or she was most thankful at Christmastime. I commend the many teachers and families who work behind the scenes in bringing a measure of comfort, purpose, and joy to these special children. They brightened my entire day.

Growing up, I was always inclined to perfectionism. So when I received my patriarchal blessing, one admonition in particular seemed natural: to complete the tasks I was given “to the best of [my] ability, to perfection.” Only later would I start to realize how little I understood perfection—or the role of grace.
In 1998 I returned home early from a mission due to health problems. I felt a tremendous amount of guilt because I felt I had not completed my mission “to perfection.” Added to this sense of failure was uncertainty about my illness. So far, doctors had been unable to diagnose it.
In spite of my health challenges, I knew I needed to move forward, so I enrolled in a university to continue my education. After only two quarters, however, I returned home again, in pain, for urgent surgery. It was at this point that doctors discovered I had an autoimmune disease.
While I was recovering from surgery, I began working part-time at the chocolate store where I had been employed as a teenager. Even though I was doing what I could, I didn’t feel that I was pursuing anything worthwhile, much less completing it “to perfection.” I began to compare myself to others, especially to my friends who were completing their college degrees, serving missions, or starting families. I felt left behind.
Then I met Stephanie. She came into the candy store one day wearing a black scarf around her head. As I pointed out to her my favorite chocolate, I felt impressed to inquire about her situation. She smiled, removed her scarf, and, pointing to her bald head, told me she was going through chemotherapy. That exchange was the start of a special and candid friendship.
Stephanie came by the store regularly to enjoy a treat and talk about life. I learned that she was a member of the Church and that she had struggled spiritually as well as physically. She told me about some rebellious choices she had made and about her efforts to repent. She was working toward being sealed to her husband in the temple.
One day I shared some of my own challenges. I confided in her how discouraged I was by my circumstances. “I am scooping the same ice cream I scooped in high school,” I explained. “I didn’t complete my mission or college, and I don’t know what to do now.”
Stephanie responded, “Why do you have to finish the race of life in a set time? Why not just run the race?”
For the first time, I realized that the efforts I was making were my best, and my best was enough. The Savior loved me, and His grace, through His Atonement, was sufficient for me, for my deficiencies. Although I felt I had been looking to Him all along, until Stephanie shared her insight with me, I had somehow missed an important lesson about His role in my life.
Ether 12:27 says, “My grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.” As I have been able to humble myself and have faith in the Lord, I have seen over and over again that He does indeed make weak things become strong. My increased testimony of this truth has helped me face my challenges with greater faith and hope.
A few months after that conversation, I left my hometown to start a new job and lost contact with my friend. One day my mom called to tell me that she had seen Stephanie’s obituary in the newspaper. I came home to attend her funeral and learned she had been sealed to her husband just three weeks before her death.
My heart sighed with gratitude for having had Stephanie in my life and for what she taught me about running a perfect race. I don’t always need to sprint. Occasionally, it will be all I can do to simply face the finish line. Doing our best to move forward—no matter what speed “our best” is—is OK. Our efforts can be made perfect because the Lord’s grace is sufficient for us all (see Moroni 10:32).

It is a scary thing, going up in a balloon for the first time. But it’s hard to worry too much, because there are so many things to do in advance.
On a typical launch day, the Komadinas and anyone accompanying them gather in the family living room for prayer. Then Amy and Jennifer give talks, much like stewardesses preparing passengers for takeoff on an airplane. They discuss safety (it’s important not to get in or out of the basket unless told to, because ballast is critical), preparation for landing (it’s important to remember to bend your knees to help absorb the impact), and flying techniques (the balloon drifts with the wind, but by ascending or descending, the pilot can usually find a breeze headed in the direction he wants to go).
At the launch site, two or three people unpack the balloon and spread it on the ground. Around the top of the fabric “envelope,” velcro strips are fastened together to keep flaps closed until the balloon stands upright. The mouth of the balloon is held open and a large fan is used to blow air into the nylon or polyester envelope. The propane burner then heats the air, which rises inside the envelope, inflating it even more.
The balloon then tries to assume an upright position. But if that happens too fast, the balloon will not inflate properly, so crew members use a “crown line,” a rope attached to the top of the envelope, to pull against the force of the air. It’s a tug-of-war that two adults or six kids never win.
While all this is going on, the pilot checks gauges which indicate fuel quantity, altitude, rate of climb or descent, and air temperature inside the envelope. As the balloon becomes more buoyant, he will have passengers join him to act as an anchor while he adds more hot air. Finally, when everyone’s ready, he blasts still more hot air into the envelope until the balloon begins to rise. To keep rising, he heats the air, to come down, he can let it cool off or he can pull a rope that allows air to escape.
Any fear a passenger has disappears quickly. It is as though the balloon remains where it is and the earth moves away. The only sound is the occasional hissing of the burner. The only feeling of height comes when you look down and suddenly realize that you’re 1,500 feet in the air!
It is flight without wings, flight without a runway or the whine of jet engines. Because the balloon floats with the breeze, there is no sensation of motion. It is, indeed, like standing on a cloud, quietly watching the earth beneath.
“When I’m up here, I think about Heavenly Father,” Jennifer said. “I feel close to him, peaceful, when I see the world he’s created and how big it is. You somehow know he’s in charge.”
Her father agreed. “You get some idea of who you are and how small you would be on your own. But you also get a feeling for what Heavenly Father has made, what he can help you accomplish if you have him on your side.”

From a missionary I received an unforgettable letter. He wrote: “I still am not certain why it was that I was [afflicted] with [cancer], particularly during the time I was serving the Lord on a mission, but I can say with all honesty and sincerity that I am eternally grateful to our gracious Heavenly Father for allowing me to have that experience. … Not a day goes by,” he continued, “that I don’t think about the days I spent lying in the hospital suffering through chemotherapy or grimacing with the pain from another operation. … Not a day … passes when I don’t think of the days I spent studying the scriptures, particularly the Book of Mormon, and remembering the overwhelming feelings of comfort and peace which I felt. I often think of the nights when I would retire to bed and pour out my soul to my Heavenly Father and thank Him for preserving my life.” Then the elder shared this wonderful news: “I returned to the doctor this week … and … he found no evidence of any disease in my body.” I love such faithful missionaries!

Twelve-year-old Louisa Bishop gently rocked her baby sister, Emma, in the old, hand-carved rocker. Their mother lay in bed, her face almost as pale as the white pillows. A deadly illness called diphtheria had struck the children of the family, killing three of Louisa’s five siblings. Exhausted from overwork and grief, Louisa’s mother also became sick. Just when it seemed that happiness would never shine on their world again, little Emma had been born. Louisa, now recovered, lovingly cared for her baby sister so their mother could rest and get well. Emma adored her big sister in return.
As the years passed, Emma and Louisa became closer and closer friends. By the time Emma was 11 years old, Louisa had married, and her husband had left to serve a mission in England. Emma was delighted to go to Louisa’s cabin each day to help out.
One day Emma paused in her sweeping and watched quietly as Louisa emptied the butter out of her sparkling glass butter dish and into a jar. “I hope she isn’t doing what I’m afraid she’s doing,” Emma thought.
Louisa stepped to the washbasin and poured in some clean water from the pitcher. Then she carefully washed the butter dish and laid it on a dish towel to dry. Turning to Emma, she handed her the jar of butter. “Now, Emma dear, I need you to take this to the bishop and pay my tithing.”
Emma folded her arms and shook her head. “I won’t do it!” she exclaimed. “You need that butter more than the bishop does.”
Louisa’s mouth drew into a stern line, but her eyes twinkled with amusement. “Emma,” she softly scolded, “tithing is a law that must be kept. If I am willing to do a big thing like letting my husband serve a mission so far away, then surely I can do a small thing like giving up some butter.”
Emma wasn’t convinced. “But it’s a big thing when you have so little.”
“Don’t worry,” Louisa told her with a smile. “I have faith that the Lord will provide.”
Emma looked closely and saw that her sister’s eyes were glistening with tears. Louisa truly believed what she was saying! Emma took the jar of butter and walked out the door without another word, though she still had doubts.
When she returned to Louisa’s cabin, Emma stopped in the doorway and stared, her mouth wide open. The butter dish was back on the table, and inside was a pound of butter! Emma’s eyes asked the question her lips could not—where had the butter come from?
Louisa smiled. “I told you the Lord would provide,” she said. She took a clean dish from the cupboard and placed the butter in it. Then she stepped again to the washbasin and filled the bowl with clean water. She washed out the beautiful glass butter dish and lid. But instead of setting them on a dish towel to drip dry, she dried them and handed both to Emma.
“I want you to have these,” she said. “And whenever you look at them, I want you to remember that the Lord will always take care of us if we keep His commandments. Remember that, Emma. Tithing comes first.” Emma’s eyes misted with tears as she accepted the butter dish.
All her life Emma remembered the lesson she had learned. Each year as her family gathered on her birthday, she told the story again. After Emma’s death, the butter dish was passed down through the family. And everyone who saw the dish heard the story of how Emma learned to always pay her tithing.

One day I was in the bus line with my friend Mike.* We try to get in line first so we can sit in the very back of the bus. There is this girl named Savannah that is kind of rude to other kids. I’ve known her since second grade. Something I found out was that if you are nice to her, she’s nice back. Mike, on the other hand, thinks that if someone is rude to him, he should be rude back. I admit I’ve done that sometimes.
That day we were at the front of the line. When our line was heading to the bus, Savannah tried to sneak in front of everyone so she could sit in the back. When she was right behind us, we tried to tell her that she couldn’t cut, but she made an excuse that most people make. “We’re all going to the same place,” she said.
When we got to the bus, there was some shoving. Savannah got in first. She quickly ran to the back and put her backpack where she was sitting. “I got here first,” said Savannah. Mike and Savannah started arguing a bit. I told Mike that we could sit somewhere else, but he didn’t listen. I started arguing with Mike. Then I remembered a line from a movie that said when we have a choice between being right or being kind, we should choose to be kind.
So I asked Savannah nicely if we could sit in the seat next to her. Mike doesn’t like sharing seats, but he thought about it. “Only if you guys don’t bother me,” said Savannah. “Fine,” Mike said. On the way home, I had a good feeling inside. You should always be kind, even if it’s hard.

At 12 years old, I heard people talk about inappropriate things at school. Every once in a while, some of my friends thought it was funny to show me pornographic pictures. Eventually, I got curious and was tempted to explore more. I got drawn into pornography, which took up a massive part of my life for several years. It definitely affected me a lot.
I was scared to talk to someone about my struggle with pornography because I didn’t want anyone to think of me differently. When my parents caught me and confronted me about it, I was embarrassed and felt really bad and guilty. Now, I’m glad that they did, and I wish I had told them sooner. They loved me through it and helped me overcome my struggles.
My parents encouraged me to talk to my bishop. I resisted for a while, but when I finally opened up to him, he was understanding. He taught me about the process of repentance. Over time, he helped me to repent. He encouraged me to set small goals and start good habits such as praying, reading my scriptures, and filling my time with good things. These habits could invite the Spirit and help me rely on the Savior until I wouldn’t want to look at pornography anymore.
I struggled for a while, but with the help of my parents, the bishop, and the Lord, I got through it. I still get tempted sometimes, but I’ve worked so hard to get to where I am. Now I’ve been clean for over two years. I am a lot more confident now. Throughout this journey, I have learned several important things.
In For the Strength of Youth: A Guide for Making Choices I learned that our bodies are sacred. No matter what you look like or how others may perceive you, your body is in the image of God.
Doctrine and Covenants 130:22 teaches that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ have bodies of flesh and bones, but the Holy Ghost does not. Like a temple, our bodies are also “a place where the Spirit can dwell.” We need to take care of them. I want to respect my body by keeping it clean, healthy, and worthy of having the Spirit abide with me.
I’ve also learned that sexual feelings are sacred. They are not a sin. It’s when we intentionally try to arouse them outside of marriage or act on them inappropriately that they become sinful. God wants us to have happy lives and families that we can be with forever. Sexual feelings are an important part of God’s plan. The For the Strength of Youth guide taught me that you can’t respect your body if you don’t respect those feelings.
I love music. I love to sing and listen to uplifting music like the hymns and StrivetoBe songs that help me feel the Spirit. One of my favorites is “I Can Do All Things.” This song reminds me that “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me” (Philippians 4:13).
Jesus Christ is my rock. He is my light. He is my Savior and Redeemer and so much more. He loves and cares for us. He wants us to succeed and do our best. He will help us no matter what. This is comforting to me because I have a lot of flaws. It is wonderful that someone so amazing loves me so much. I’m trying the best I can to be like Him—for Him.
It doesn’t matter what you may be going through or how many times you fail or fall. As you rely on the Savior and His Atonement, He will always pick you up and carry you to the finish line. I know I was only able to overcome my struggle with pornography with His help. With Jesus Christ, you really can get through anything.
The author lives in Georgia, USA.

Eric Wade, a deacon in the Driggs First Ward, Driggs Idaho Stake, has won the right, two years in a row, to participate in the National Spelling Bee. This year he took sixth place nationally. He was defeated by the word circumforaneous. He prepared for the event by studying words from 1 1/2 to 2 hours a day.
When not brushing up on spelling words, Eric enjoys sports. He plays football, basketball, baseball, and participates in wrestling. He has won a local junior championship in racquetball.

I guess I should start out by saying that I’m just a regular, ordinary, ten year old who lives on a very ordinary street—North Maple. I’ve been going to Primary since I was little, and, of course, I’ve been planning on going on a mission as long as I can remember. But practicing being a missionary is something I haven’t done much—that is, until about a month ago. And that’s where my being a regular, ordinary boy is so amazing. I mean, if I can do it, anybody can!
You probably should know that I’m the only member of the Church in my whole school, except for my little sister. A lot of people know we’re Latter-day Saints. It isn’t hard to figure out, since my family doesn’t go to the local sport club’s Sunday soccer games, we have family home evening every Monday night, and we read the Book of Mormon every day. Sometimes my friends tease me about all the things Latter-day Saints can’t do. One time Nick even wanted to know if Church members could drink milk—and he was serious!
Anyway, when my best friend’s family moved, I resigned myself to living out my days never having any members my own age in my school class. There were two other people in my Primary class, but they didn’t go to my school.
About a month ago, the Millers moved into our neighborhood. Right away Mom took over some of her homemade enchiladas, and Dad helped Mr. Miller carry in their furniture. I was pretty excited to find out that they had an eleven-year-old son who likes baseball cards.
Jeff invited me up to his room a few days later. There were still boxes and stuff all over the place. I was busy admiring his coin collection, when I noticed that he had a picture of Jesus Christ on his nightstand. Whoa! My thoughts started spinning. The whole rest of the room was pretty much a mess, but this picture looked like something he had unpacked right away. I knew he wasn’t a Mormon—I’d already found that out—so I asked him about the picture.
Jeff wasn’t embarrassed or anything. He said that his whole family had prayed a lot before they moved to decide whether his dad should take a job in Chicago or come here. They had felt very good about their decision. He said they didn’t know why they were supposed to move here, but they knew that Jesus Christ loved them and they were sure that He would bless them to know why someday.
Well, I started getting pretty tingly all over, and then I did a very scary thing for a regular, ordinary, ten year old. I told him that my whole family loved Jesus Christ, too, and that we prayed every day. I said I knew that someday his family would know why they had moved to this neighborhood.
Well, since then, Jeff and I have become good friends. He came with me to Primary Activity Day two weeks ago and asked a lot of questions about the Church. Some of the answers were easy, and others I had to find out from Mom and Dad. Even Mr. and Mrs. Miller are starting to ask about the Church. We’re having them over to our house next Friday to hear a missionary discussion with the elders. Who knows? Maybe I will live to see another member family live on North Maple Street.