Gospel Story Finder

All my life I strived to be who I thought Heavenly Father expected me to be. But there was a problem: I never knew if I was good enough.
I fixated on my imperfections, especially after studying scriptures or listening to general conference talks. When reading these things that were supposed to encourage me, I would only focus on what I was doing wrong.
I lived this way for a long time—miserable and feeling weary in my discipleship.
But I didn’t realize that what I was actually failing to do was truly believe in the Savior and the pure, simple truths of His gospel.
My perspective changed while I was listening to a recent devotional with Sister Patricia T. Holland. She said, “What I regret most in my youth is that I didn’t see the simple beauty of the gospel; I made even the gospel too complex.”1
Her message struck me.
I realized that I complicate the gospel frequently! Many of us do. We expect ourselves to be perfect, believing there is no room for flaws and progress. And if things aren’t going the way we expect them to, we become anxious about the future, compare ourselves to others, lose connection with Heavenly Father, and even start wondering if living the gospel is worth it.
I realized my anxiety wasn’t caused by living the gospel. I was anxious because I had stopped focusing on the reason I live the gospel: Jesus Christ.
I forgot that He and Heavenly Father love me with perfect love (see John 15:9; 2 Nephi 1:15).
I forgot that I am meant to have joy in the journey (see 2 Nephi 2:25).
I forgot that mortality includes having imperfections and relying on the Savior to overcome them (see Ether 12:27).
I forgot that the Savior is here to help me learn and grow and progress and that He consecrates my efforts along the way (see 2 Nephi 2:1–2; 32:9).
We run into trouble when we turn the gospel into a checklist of rules and forget the pure truths of Jesus Christ. When we strive to keep our covenants and the commandments with the intention of becoming more like Him, then we are truly living the gospel.
Heavenly Father wants us to always remember that the Savior can help us reach our divine potential. But how do we not forget this important truth?
Here are a few practices that have helped me:
I pray for Heavenly Father to help me feel that He loves me and accepts my best efforts.
I take the sacrament, focusing on Jesus Christ’s Atonement. I remind myself that His grace can help me in the future and is already at work in my life as I strive to follow Him.
I turn to the scriptures for comfort. I read about those who also felt inadequate and were strengthened by the Lord.
I go to the temple often. Everything in the Lord’s house reminds me of His mercy and that I am capable of progress. There, I can feel peace amid so many anxieties.
These practices have made me appreciate what matters most in the gospel. They remind me to not complicate its simplicity.
By focusing on the pure truths of the gospel of Jesus Christ, I have seen my life and faith miraculously simplify. I know yours will too.

“Love your enemies,” challenged my Sunday School teacher one morning. “Do good to those that hate you. Then just watch what happens.”
At the time I received this challenge, my testimony was not yet firm, and I was skeptical about the practicality of this biblical teaching. It couldn’t possibly apply to my life. But I halfheartedly thought I might try it—that is, if I could think of an enemy.
After some thought, I concluded that I had no real enemies, so that took care of that. Then, suddenly, I remembered an incident. When we had moved into the end apartment of a row of four company-owned apartments, our outdoor water faucet wasn’t working. I asked the woman in the next apartment if I could hook my hose to her faucet to water my lawn. (There was no charge for the water.) She informed me that I certainly could not use her faucet and that, if mine was broken, I had better get it fixed and not bother her again!
Well! I would have no more to do with her! I was relieved some time later when she moved to the far end of our row of apartments. It would be just as well not to be next door to her anymore.
Now here was the challenge to love my enemies. She was the nearest person I could think of who would fit that description. Everyone else I knew was a friend. “I could try!” I thought.
Each day I hung out my laundry on the clotheslines at the end of the building, next to this woman’s apartment. She was always sitting on the porch alone. I had usually ignored her, but now I decided to prove whether or not loving my enemies would indeed work.
The next morning when I went to hang out the laundry, the woman was sitting on her porch as usual, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette. I gave her a smile and said with a gay lilt, “Hi, there!” She glared at me and deliberately turned her head.
“That couldn’t hurt me,” I thought. “I’m just proving a point.” When I finished hanging out my clothes she had gone inside.
Each day after that, I merrily called out, “Hi!” as I passed her and never once got a smile or an answer. One morning, after about two weeks, much to my surprise, she walked over to where I was hanging wet clothes and exchanged a few remarks about the weather.
After that, each day when I came to hang out clothes, she came over and we said a few words—never anything personal. Sometimes we talked about the company both of our husbands worked for, sometimes the weather or a sale at a local store. I certainly never felt that we were friends in any sense of the word. She always seemed cold and reserved in her attitude.
Then one day my husband and I received word that we were to be transferred to a different locality. When I went out the next morning to hang my washing, the woman came to the clothesline as usual to talk. I told her that we were moving away. We passed a few comments about it, and I went back to my apartment.
About an hour after I had gone home, the woman appeared at my door. I was very surprised to see her. Neither of us had ever been in the other’s apartment. She had an odd, strained expression on her face. I invited her to sit down and we tried to talk a little. But there really seemed to be nothing to talk about.
Then, to my astonishment, she burst into tears, sobbing as if her heart would break. She said she couldn’t stand to have me move away. “You are the only friend I have in the whole world,” she said.
Me! Why, I didn’t even know her first name!
I couldn’t think of anything to say to my friend. I only knew that we weren’t enemies any more.
“Oh, Father,” I thought. “Forgive me for doubting your word. I didn’t really do anything for her. I only said hello and visited with her a little. What a flood of proof you’ve given me!”
I have found for myself—not only then, but many times since—that living the principles of the gospel in even the smallest way always proves them to be true.

In the mission presidents’ seminar last June, Elder Thomas S. Monson told of the great faith and trust in the Lord of Randall Ellsworth, a missionary who, in Brother Monson’s words, “was crushed under that devastating earthquake in Guatemala, pinned for, I think, twelve hours. Found himself totally paralyzed from the waist down. Kidney functions, not present. No hope to ever walk again. …

“He was flown to … Maryland and … interviewed in the hospital by a television reporter. The television reporter said to him, ‘The doctors say you will not walk again. What do you think, Elder Ellsworth?’ He said, ‘I’ll not only walk again, but I have a call from a prophet to serve a mission in Guatemala, and I shall go back to Guatemala and finish that mission.’ …

“He exercised twice the [requirement] outlined by the doctors. He exerted his faith. He received a blessing from the priesthood and his recovery was miraculous. It astounded the physicians and the specialists. He began to be able to stand on his feet. Then he could walk with crutches, and then the doctors said to him, ‘You may return to the mission field if the Church will permit you to go.’ He went. We sent him to Guatemala. He returned to the land to which he had been called, to the people whom he dearly loved.

“While there he was walking, proselyting a full schedule with a cane in each hand. [His mission president] looked at him and said, ‘Elder Ellsworth, with the faith that you have, why don’t you throw those canes away and walk?’ And Elder Ellsworth said, ‘If you have that kind of faith in me [take the canes].’” He put down the canes and has never used them since. (Mission Presidents’ Training Seminar, June 1977, tape recording, Missionary Department.)

The elected president of Edinburgh Napier Students Association, Edinburgh Napier University, hosted a discussion event for students and staff members. The topic for the webinar was, “Faith plays a role for good mental health.” The point was to make students learn to use their faith for hope, peaceful minds, and other aspects of life. I enjoyed participating in the event and invited two of our full-time missionaries to share their testimonies and to perform a dance as part of our contribution.
Below is my presentation:
“Thank you for the opportunity to both hear and participate this evening. One distinct principle that I believe as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is that God speaks to us today, as we individually connect with Him through prayer and collectively as His children on earth through living prophets.
“The Old Testament tells us how God spoke to His children through living prophets such as Abraham, Isaiah, Noah, Daniel, and others. I believe that the doctrine of prophetic leadership has been restored.
“Every six months, there is a worldwide conference where our prophet and apostles address the world in my faith tradition. In the most recent conference, they taught and counselled on themes such as love your enemies, embrace the future with faith, finding joy in Christ, I believe in angels, let God prevail, and a new normal. All these addresses can be found on YouTube as well as the official Church website.
“Listening to this counsel helps me anchor my faith in Jesus Christ. I know that His sacrifice on my behalf can lift me from the darkest times. He is the Light of the World and calms my troubled soul.”
I was delighted to be asked to participate in this event along with members of many other faiths from across our country.
You can view the broadcast event at https://www.youtube.com/user/napierstudents.

Towards the end of the school year, Karen invited me to a Gold and Green Ball, I had no idea what that was. I had never been to a dance in a church, and I had to dress in a suit! I was amazed to see a gymnasium in a church building.
But what went on in the gym surprised me even more. Adults and teenagers were talking, laughing, and even dancing together. My friends had always thought it was childish to like your parents. All over the nation there was an uproar about communication breakdown between parents and their children. But these people all seemed to be friends, regardless of age.
I asked Karen about it. She said it was because of the Church. As she took me on a tour of the building, I pondered what she had said. By the time I went home that night, I felt these people were unique, they were choice in some way I didn’t fully understand. They had a lot to be proud of.

After receiving a request from his ward in Nevada, Eric gratefully accepted the challenge to create a visual aid to help the Primary children in his ward learn to follow the prophet.
It took talent, but mostly a lot of preparation and hard work, to complete this project for the Primary. Eric closely studied his subjects, and once he started his pastel drawing, it took him 10 days to complete it.
“I enjoyed working on this drawing,” Eric says. “It felt good to use the talents I’ve been blessed with for our Primary.” And the Primary children really appreciate the picture of the prophets done especially for them. It helps them learn to follow and love the prophets more.

Darrell graduated in 1997 and attended Brigham Young University in Utah, USA to complete his master’s degree. From there, he moved to New York City to study at the Manhattan School of Music, for his third degree in the subject he had once failed while still a struggling schoolboy.

Whilst in New York he met and married Jennifer Welch, a renowned opera singer in her own right. In 2005 Darrell, Jenny and their two little sons moved back to Utah where they were both asked to teach at BYU. Darrell was eventually offered a full-time position, and Jenny decided to be a full-time mother.

As a professor of music for 14 years, Darrell was hugely successful, with his students winning major international opera competitions. One of his students, Rachel Willis-Sørensen, was invited to sing at Prince Charles’ 70th birthday party at Buckingham Palace, who has since gone on to be a highly successful recording artist.

In 2019, Darrell was approached by the world-renowned Juilliard School and offered a full-time faculty position. Darrell, Jenny and now five children moved back to New York.

In 2021 it was announced that Darrell would be chair of the music faculty at the Juilliard School. It can be no surprise to learn that his students have also won many competitions and have appeared on The Voice and America’s Got Talent. One student has also been nominated for a Grammy award.

Almost five centuries ago a creative genius named Leonardo da Vinci lived and worked in Italy. While we remember him most today for such paintings as the Mona Lisa, he was also a fascinating debater, a polished orator, and a storyteller of great imagination. One of his fables, simply titled “The Wolf,” I would like to share with you.
“Carefully, warily, the wolf came down out of the forest one night, attracted by the smell of a flock of sheep. With slow steps he drew near to the sheepfold, placing his feet with the utmost caution so as not to make the slightest sound which might disturb the sleeping dog.
“But one careless paw stepped on a board; the board creaked and woke the dog. The wolf had to run away, unfed and hungry. And so, because of one careless foot, the whole animal suffered.” (Adapted from Notebooks of Leonardo da Vinci, “Fantastic Tales,” Bestiary, no. 1225.)

When I was eleven, I received a special blessing from my uncle, a patriarch, whom I had never met. In the blessing, I was promised the very things I’d hoped for but had kept hidden in my heart—that I would have the home and family I had always dreamed about. The promises in that blessing have since been fulfilled. I have an absolute testimony of priesthood blessings, and I know that those who are worthy to give blessings are inspired by God.

Upon graduating from high school, I decided to move to Utah, USA, where my two older brothers had settled after returning from their missions. They had started their own construction companies and extended to me the opportunity to work for them while I tried to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.
Both of them tried to persuade me to serve a mission. I had always felt impressed to serve a mission but failed to prepare. Rather than make the necessary preparations to serve a mission, I chose to serve in a different capacity. At the age of 20, I enlisted as a medic in the US Army.
Despite my joining the army, the impression to serve a mission never left. As I entered the last year of my enlistment, I pondered what was next.
“Do I re-enlist? Do I finish my bachelor’s degree? Or do I go out and make the necessary changes in my life, repent, and prepare to serve a mission? Even if I do want to serve, am I too old?” These were some of the questions that crossed my mind.
As I considered whether to serve a mission, I felt strongly that there were people waiting for me to invite them to come unto Christ. This impression was the catalyst for my decision to prepare to serve a mission. I decided that even if I had only a slight chance of being able to serve a mission at my age, I had to try.
I think for most prospective missionaries, the flood of emotion and the power of the Holy Ghost hits them upon opening and reading their mission call. However, for me, that happened the day I was informed that I was still eligible to apply to serve a mission.
As I had repented and prepared myself to serve, I felt an immense gratitude toward my Savior, Jesus Christ, and my Heavenly Father. I felt like They wrapped Their arms around me and said: “We forgive you. We accept your repentance and the changes you have made and who you have become. You are worthy to serve.” I felt triumphant.
Eventually I received my call to serve in the Philippines Quezon City Mission.
Entering the missionary training center at the age of 25 was a unique experience. Most of the other missionaries were much younger. Many had recently graduated from high school or had completed their first year of college. Several were experiencing their first time away from home and family. As for me, I had just finished spending four years in the US Army and was already acclimated to many of the sacrifices and adjustments that the other missionaries were only about to encounter. My experience afforded me the opportunity to focus less on myself and more on extending empathy and encouragement to others. My age and experience also gave me insight into the value of time and provided motivation to serve with focus, intention, and diligence.
My mission will always be one of the most important experiences of—and for—my life. It solidified and sealed my foundation built on the rock of my Redeemer (see Helaman 5:12). I am immensely thankful that I had the opportunity to serve.

In 1816 the French physician René Laënnec was convinced that if he could listen carefully to the sounds made by his patients’ lungs and hearts, he would hear many clues to their conditions. But he found it difficult to isolate the swish of the lungs or the lub-dub of the beating heart. Many of his patients were so fat that the sounds coming from their chests were lost.
One day Dr. Laënnec was watching children play on a pile of timber. He saw one boy put his ear to the end of a long beam while another tapped on the opposite end. The sound traveled along the wood. At once Laënnec saw the answer to his problem. He hurried back to his hospital, took a paper-covered book, and rolled it tightly into a tube. To everyone’s astonishment, he then put one end of the tube to a patient’s chest and applied his ear to the other. As he expected, he heard the heart sounds clearly. Then he made little wooden “listening trumpets” on a lathe, and the stethoscope was invented.

Sister Asay shared other experiences that strengthened her early commitment. “You know,” she said, “when I was a Beehive girl, just 12 years old, a young man from our ward returned from a mission. That was really something in those days. There weren’t so many missionaries then. He spoke in our sacrament meeting and had the most wonderful spirit. I could actually feel it. I remember thinking, ‘I’m going to marry someone just like him some day.’” She quickly added, with a twinkle in her eye, “And of course I married someone even better.
“Carlos and I were childhood sweethearts. I can’t remember when I didn’t know him.” Her countenance and tone of voice revealed much more in this beautiful relationship than was being spoken. “When we decided to get married,” she said, “Carlos was very much involved in athletics at the University of Utah. He had been offered a contract to pitch for a professional baseball team, and a lot of other opportunities came his way. I believe they came as a test at that time, because those things have high priority in a young man’s life.” And then she said, “Like a flashback to years before, I could see that young returned missionary standing at the pulpit in our little church in Monroe. I remembered my feeling then. I had committed myself to marrying someone who had the spirit of a returned missionary, and Carlos wasn’t a returned missionary.” Then in a matter-of-fact tone, she explained: “I just went to the Lord. ‘Please call Carlos on a mission,’ was my simple request. Do you know,” her smile broadened, “Carlos called two days later and said that the bishop wanted to see him. Then I became anxious again. I went back to the Lord, and this time I fervently requested, ‘Please touch Carlos so he’ll want to go on a mission.’”
She was concerned because of Elder Asay’s desire to get started in school; he had just gotten out of the service, and most boys weren’t that committed to a mission in those days. But Elder Asay accepted his first mission call to Palestine-Syria, trusting in the admonition to “seek first the kingdom of God.” When he came back Sister Asay married her returned missionary.

After his throat operation, President Kimball had no voice. During a testimony meeting in the temple, President David O. McKay asked him to bear his testimony. He could not speak a word. He could only utter inaudible, breathy sounds. He wrote a note to President McKay afterwards and asked, “Why would you do that to me?” The President answered, “Spencer, you must get your voice back, for you still have a great mission to perform.” (What a moving example of the love of one prophet for another.) President Kimball was obedient. He learned how to control air in his throat and to use the scar tissue that developed in his larynx and his remaining vocal cord. He regained his voice and carried on his great work. The accomplishment of President Kimball’s prophetic mission will stand equal to any in this or any other dispensation.

Sissy was crying again. She didn’t want to cry, but the warm, wet tears kept sliding down her cheeks. Ever since Pa had died last winter, she found herself crying almost every time she was alone.
Today she had run home from the little pioneer church and climbed into the hayloft. It was the Sunday before Easter, and her Primary lesson had been about the Resurrection. Sister Nelson had reminded the class that when people we love die, we can be comforted knowing that they will live again and that we can be with them at some future time. Sissy knew that Sister Nelson was speaking especially to her and was trying to be kind, but her teacher just didn’t understand! What good is it to think about resurrection when I need Pa right now? she thought.
Sissy had been very close to her father. Pa had always said that she was special. He called her his “own little angel right from heaven.” The tears rolled down her cheeks, and she cried, “Oh, Pa, why did you have to die? How can I ever be happy again?”
Her thoughts were interrupted by her brother Joe’s husky voice calling her from the barn door. “Sissy! Sissy, are you in here?”
“I’m coming, Joe,” Sissy said slowly as she dried her tears and began to climb down.
Joe stood at the bottom of the ladder; he lifted her off the rungs, swung her around, and gently set her down. “What’s the matter, Sis?” he asked as he bent his tall frame over and looked into her reddened eyes. “Has it been raining in the hayloft again?”
Sissy gave him a little smile and held his hand as they left the barn. She loved Joe. He was kind and gentle, like Pa, and Sissy knew he understood her sorrow and loneliness. She wondered if he still missed Pa too. She hadn’t thought about that before. Joe always seemed so strong and sure of everything.
“Joe,” Sissy said, stopping suddenly, “what do you do when you feel sad and lonely without Pa around?”
Joe walked slowly over to a tree and sat down. Sissy sat down beside him. He was quiet for a moment and seemed to be studying the daffodils that Pa and Sissy had planted last spring. Then he looked up into Sissy’s eyes and spoke softly. “Missing Pa is natural and will probably last all our lives, Sissy. But when I’m sad, I try to get busy doing something that I know would make Pa happy. You see, I know that someday I’m going to see Pa again, and I want to be the kind of man he always wanted me to grow up to be. Somehow that seems to take my mind off my sad thoughts and put it on the happy thoughts of how proud I can make Pa when I see him again.”
Sissy thought about Joe’s words as he got up and headed toward the woodpile. She knew that Pa would be sad to think that the only thing she did when she thought of him was cry. Maybe if she tried Joe’s plan, it would work for her too. She wrinkled her forehead as she tried to think of something to do that would make Pa happy and proud of her.
In a minute Sissy was on her feet, running to catch up with her brother. “Joe,” she asked, filling her arms with kindling, “do you think we could take some daffodils over to Sister Harding this afternoon? I noticed she wasn’t at church today, so maybe she would like a little visit. We could take over some of those good molasses cookies too!”
Joe gave her a quick smile and a gentle squeeze and nodded his head. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard in a long time,” he said.
Later, as Sissy gathered the flowers, she found herself thinking about Pa and smiling for the first time in a long while. She could almost see Pa smiling too!

At the university where I used to study, there was a young man who persecuted me because I am a member of the Church. He always wanted to contend, so I just tried to avoid him. Then one day I bore my testimony to him, and he quit persecuting me. We should always stay firm and remember how our testimonies were gained. We should react with self-control so the Holy Spirit may always be with us and strengthen us, no matter what others may say or think. We should pray for those people so that someday they may receive Jesus Christ.
Brezka E., age 21, Valparaíso, Chile

“Life’s not fair!” exclaimed Amy, twisting and plaiting her long auburn hair.
Sam, who’d been around since Sunbeam days, raised his eyebrows. They were the last youth in the foyer waiting for lifts home from seminary.
She turned to the notice board, jabbing a finger at a dazzling poster. “‘New Year’s Social,’ it says.” She jabbed again. “‘Bring a date,’ it says. How am I supposed to do that? No one ever asks me. There’s just nobody around this place.”
She slumped gloomily onto the bench, contemplating a dateless Christmas, dateless New Year, dateless forever.
“Thanks a lot.” Sam pulled himself to full frame, short, lean, and topped with a cheery face, nicely sprinkled with spots and freckles.
“So, Mike, Adam, and I are nobody, are we? I’ll remember that next time you want a puncture fixing or algebra sorting out, or …”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t mean to make you mad. It’s just that you’ve always been here. You’re more like … well … brothers. You know—good friends. Dating’s different.”
“How different?”
“Very different. A date should be exciting, romantic, unusual. I want to be whisked off my feet by someone who reveals a delicious character under a tough skin. Someone hard to reach, but cool and …”
“Mushy.”
“Pardon?”
“Really mushy. You’re describing a TV soap star, Amy. People in real life aren’t like that. Sounds as though you’re expecting some posh bloke to roll up in a Jag. I’m afraid you’re in for a long wait.”
He picked up his scriptures. “Come on, there’s your mum’s Austin. Looks like she’s in her usual hurry. She’s reversing already. She’ll be down at the gates if we’re not quick.”
Amy bent down to her bag. “Hang on,” she added, handing him a seminary booklet. “Don’t forget next week’s work. Doesn’t sound very easy reading to me, that section 95. There’s another unfair thing. How can someone be loved at the same time as being chastened? It doesn’t make me feel very loved when I’m getting a telling off.”
“Depends how you listen,” said Sam, reaching for the door. “And whether you hear with your brain or your spirit.”
“You don’t make much sense sometimes, Sam Harper.” She paused, buttoning her coat. “Sam?”
“What?”
“Between you and me, do you think I’m pretty enough to get a date?”
Sam looked away. “Yes,” he said.
“Then why don’t I?”
He stood quiet for a while, keeping the door open with his foot. Then he tapped his scriptures. “Another part of that section 95 might hold the answer. Verse 6 is very interesting.”
Amy poked him in the ribs and brushed past, head in the air.
“Oh, you’re so … so … serious.” This final word came shooting out. “Move it, then.” She began running. “Last one to the car buys chips on the way to your house.”
Sam moved. He took the shortcut, hedgehopping a stone wall and a few rose bushes.
“Slow coach,” he panted, as Amy came in a close second. Then he smiled. “But the chips are on me anyway.”
“Thanks,” she gasped, regaining her breath as he opened the car door. “But you don’t have to.”
Sam’s smile widened as her mother revved the engine. “And some for Sister Frank, seeing as we kept her waiting.”
Before the inner car light switched off, Amy glanced up just in time to catch that smile reflected in the depth of his eyes. It was mingled with such an expression of kindness that a warmth seemed to bounce right back into the whole of her being.
How odd, she pondered, while the car gathered speed. I’ve never noticed Sam’s eyes do that before. She tried to recall the last time she’d ever watched his eyes while he talked. She couldn’t.
She gave a shrug as the chip shop came in sight, quickly dismissing such unfamiliar thoughts.
The following weekend brought snow and ice.
The atmosphere in Sunday School wasn’t much warmer. Amy had read Doctrine and Covenants 95:6 that morning: “They who are not chosen have sinned a very grievous sin, in that they are walking in darkness at noonday.” [D&C 95:6]
Her first reaction had been indignation, followed swiftly by tears. Now she sat amidst her friends feeling dejected.
“What’s up, Amy?” asked Sam, dropping into the empty chair on her left. “You look like you’re having a good-cheer famine.”
She glanced briefly at him, then sniffed. “You really took that verse 6 out of context, didn’t you Sam.”
With a sheepish grin, he cringed a little. “Oh—that.”
Amy half turned away. “Why, may I ask, is it a sin to have no date? And I’m not in darkness.” Her voice rose with a slight wobble. “And everything’s quite bright and sunny, thank you.”
Sam sighed with embarrassment. “Look here, Amy,” he touched her arm. “I … I didn’t want to hurt you. It’s just that … I mean …” he stammered, turning crimson. “Uh oh, I think I’ve blown it. I can’t explain properly. It was a kind of joke. You know a play on words?”
Bending her head forward to let long strands of hair hide her face, she said in a small voice, “I wasn’t very amused, Sam.”
“Maybe you didn’t listen with your spirit, Amy. I mean, think of it this way. …”
Fortunately, the teacher arrived before he could tangle things further.
Amy sat through the lesson in a dream, letting everything slide over, like warm breath on frosted windows.
By the time midweek seminary came round again, she had melted a little and could see the funny side, even half admiring his weird sense of humour. Imagine Sam having nerve to say that to her. Walking in darkness indeed. Who did he think she’d missed around here?
She chuckled to herself. It was worth catching the early bus to seminary and getting there in time for some teasing.
But Sam wasn’t there. For the first time ever Sam was not at seminary. No one had heard from him all week. Amy felt a niggle of worry.
However, all such problems soon vanished when Amy’s mother arrived at nine. She could hear Mum’s voice before the car door was half open.
“You’ll never believe what’s happened. Maybe I was seeing things. No, they were real all right. But how could they be? Didn’t have time to double-check. Too late leaving. But how in the world … I mean … bananas—at this time of the year?”
“Mum, what are you talking about?” asked Amy, with a worried frown.
“There they were, dear. On the beech tree in the front garden. Bunches of bananas. All over the branches!”
“But, Mother, bananas never grow in England. You must have been imagining things.”
Sister Frank started the engine, shaking her head resolutely. “I may get slightly muddled at times, but I’m definitely not senile yet.”
The homeward trip was even faster than usual. And sure enough, there in the front garden was a banana tree.
Amy clambered out of the car in a daze, vaguely aware of a telephone ringing in the distance. She walked slowly up the path. “Must be some sort of hoax, Mum. They’re tied on,” she called over her shoulder whilst reaching out to touch the nearest one.
But Mother had turned her back towards the house. “Won’t be a minute dear—let me answer that phone.”
Amy pulled down the fruit, shivering. It felt cold and uninviting. She was just about to let it slither to the ground, when she noticed half stuck tape crumpled round the top. Peeling back the skin wasn’t easy. Then her eyes stretched in amazement. Folded neatly under the surface was a piece of paper.
Her fingers were too chilled to be careful, but she managed to straighten the paper enough to decipher a message.
“Is this an exciting, romantic and different enough way to ask for a date? If so, please climb the nearest easy branch and pull down banana number two. The one with a red heart stuck at the top.”
Clambering up the lumpy trunk and onto the first branch, Amy found the next one. The heart had slipped a bit, but another message fell out.
“Well, you’ve been whisked off your feet and this fruit reveals a delicious character under a tough skin.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You’ve got to be joking,” she muttered, prodding the banana, now squishy and turning brown.
“Now go for the fruit on that branch overhanging the hedge,” she read. “The one with two hearts. Be careful. It’s not easy.”
Amy hesitated, then quickly climbing, she stretched across the hedge top, only to find herself sliding gracefully into it. Spitting frosted twigs from her mouth, she reached again, grabbing at the banana.
As brown pulp squirted in her hands, she immediately wished she hadn’t bothered. Letting out an exasperated yell, she jumped down. “Oh, that Sam Harper! Just wait till …”
But she couldn’t resist opening the note. Her voice sounded surprised when she read out loud. “So sorry this one was hard to reach, but it’s definitely cool and …”
“Mushy?” came a familiar voice from behind the hedge.
“You can say that again,” exploded Amy. She tossed back her hair, then pulled down another banana. In seconds war would have broken out, but for Sam’s infectious laughter.
“So this is where you were during seminary. You’re a nut case, Sam. What am I going to do with you?” She shook her head and began brushing bits of tree off her coat.
He took out a tissue and gently wiped banana mush from her hand. “You could try answering my question,” he replied softly.
“Which one?”
“Please will you be my date for the New Year’s social?”
She looked at him for a long moment. There was that smile, hovering in his eyes again, only this time it seemed anxious and hopeful as well as kind.
“I think I must be slightly mad, but yes—on two conditions.”
Sam knelt in the slush at her feet, and with a flourish, pulled out a box of Cadbury’s milk tray from inside his coat. “Anything,” he promised, solemnly. “And here’s something to take away the taste of bananas. I know in the TV advert the man leaps off a mountain at this moment, but, … as we don’t have one handy …”
Amy giggled, giving a mock curtsy whilst he gallantly placed them in her outstretched hand.
She pulled him to his feet with the other hand. “Okay, I’ll be your date, but only if there are no more bananas—not ever.”
“And the other condition?”
She paused. “Will this mean I’m no longer walking in darkness at noonday?”
Sam grinned. “How could anyone be in the dark with me around? Come on, let’s celebrate.”
“Does a drink of Mum’s hot black current and toast sound exciting enough?”
Sam closed his eyes and sighed. “Umm! Delicious!”
Amy nudged him towards the house. The rest of the bananas could wait until morning. After all, dates don’t grow on trees every day of the week.

Lately our family had been praying to strengthen the family bond. The answer to our prayer really came in a shocking way. Can you imagine this? Three teenagers and a nine-year-old down with the chicken pox the last week of summer vacation. We had to live together 24 hours a day in the same house for a week and a half straight. That was a trial! We all learned to get along. Each day we compared our skin to see whose was worse. My oldest brother won. We made this awful experience fun. We talked about walking down the beach looking like this in our swimsuits and other crazy ideas that made the situation seem funny. Unfortunately it did not ease the itch. We decided to be more specific when we prayed. We are all involved with each others’ lives and feelings. We are now closer than ever.

John Powell shares this touching experience: “It was the day my father died. … In the small hospital room, I was supporting him in my arms, when … my father slumped back, and I lowered his head gently onto the pillow. I … told my mother … :
“‘It’s all over, Mom. Dad is dead.’
“She startled me. I will never know why these were her first words to me after his death. My mother said: ‘Oh, he was so proud of you. He loved you so much.’
“Somehow I knew … that these words were saying something very important to me. They were like a sudden shaft of light, like a startling thought I had never before absorbed. Yet there was a definite edge of pain, as though I were going to know my father better in death than I had ever known him in life.
“Later, while a doctor was verifying death, I was leaning against the wall in the far corner of the room, crying softly. A nurse came over to me and put a comforting arm around me. I couldn’t talk through my tears. I wanted to tell her:
“‘I’m not crying because my father is dead. I’m crying because my father never told me that he was proud of me. He never told me that he loved me. Of course, I was expected to know these things. I was expected to know the great part I played in his life and the great part I occupied of his heart, but he never told me.’” (The Secret of Staying in Love, Niles, Ill.: Argus, 1974, p. 68.)

Later on, a friend I made in the ward texted me and asked if I wanted to sing in the choir for a stake conference. Why does she want me to sing? I thought. I’m not a member. I kept battling it, but finally I said, “Sure, I’ll do it.”
It wasn’t like singing in other churches where there’s a band, it’s loud, and it feels like you’re at a concert. We sang “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing.” The words of the hymn and the sweet sound of the music really touched me.
Kevin:
A few months later, we were sitting in fast and testimony meeting, and Kendra said to me, “I think you should go up and share your testimony about prayer because of what it did for Dad.”
Kendra’s stepdad had just had a massive heart attack. We called on the ward to pray for him and our family during that time. Thankfully, he pulled through.
“I think you should do it,” I said. She got up and bore her testimony. It was so amazing. After this, things just started to unfold for her.
Kendra:
At the beginning of 2018, I kept hearing the name “President Monson.” At this time, I didn’t know this was the prophet. One night the missionaries came over and asked how I was doing.
“I’m doing fine,” I said, “but a person’s name keeps coming to my head, and I don’t know who it is.”
“What’s the name?” They asked.
“President Monson.”
“Kendra, that’s not just any name,” they said. “That’s the name of the prophet who just passed away. You should look at some talks he gave and see what the Lord wants you to learn from him.” I looked at some of his messages, and they were really touching and helped me. From there, it just seemed that the gospel kept coming back to me.
When we would go out to eat before, I would usually order a sweet tea, but Kevin would say, “You don’t need a sweet tea; get something else.”
One day I went to a fast food restaurant for my lunch break and ordered a sweet tea. A few minutes later, an employee said, “At the very moment you ordered a sweet tea, the machine broke.”
She said it would take about an hour to fix the machine. I only had 30 minutes for lunch. I just ordered a soda instead. At that point I laughed and said, “All right, I get it now!”
I wanted to join the Church, but I also didn’t want to make my mom mad. My mom played a big role in my decisions while I was growing up. She was a minister, so I constantly listened to her instead of going to church and learning for myself.
I was a little hesitant when we set a date for my baptism. The missionaries came over, and we talked about it.
Finally, I asked my daughter, Aryanna, “Do you want to be baptized?”
She said, “Mom, I’m ready whenever you are.”
She told me that when she went to church, all the girls ran and greeted her. They took her to Primary classes and were always friendly. They wanted her to be part of things. She became really good friends with one of the girls. That’s what she enjoyed about it.
At Aryanna’s baptism, she cried tears of joy. When I saw her, I thought, I’m where I need to be.
Kevin:
I know Heavenly Father brought the gospel to our family because He loves and cares about us so much.

A few weeks before leaving on my mission to Ecuador, I was ordained an elder and received all the responsibilities that come with the Melchizedek Priesthood.
Soon afterward, my mom and I were visiting some family members, and my uncle gave me a white missionary handbook, saying that I would soon be needing it. I thought he was referring to my mission—only weeks away. But that night my uncle asked me to assist in giving a blessing to my aunt, who was sick. I was surprised at the invitation but knew I now had the authority to administer to the sick—and even more, to help my aunt who was in need.
I immediately read how to give a blessing in my newly acquired handbook and was able to carry out my first priesthood blessing, feeling truly grateful in this new capacity to serve others.