Gospel Story Finder

Finances became a major concern. I had enough money in the bank to cover 11 of the remaining 15 months of my mission and hoped Mom could get enough together for the remaining four. My plans for college were now pushed back into the realm of hopes and dreams. However, the Lord takes care of his missionaries.
I received a letter from my mother telling me that I needn’t worry about finances anymore. A man had contacted my bishop and asked if he could support me for the rest of my mission. This is not too unusual, since there are many good-hearted men in the Church, but the twist in this instance was in what the man told my bishop: “I’m not a member of your church, but out of the love and respect I have for Horace Rappleye, I’d like to support his son for the rest of his mission.” And he did. For 15 months the money was placed regularly in my bank account by the anonymous benefactor.
He remains anonymous to this day.

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.)

I had just turned eight, and it was getting close to my baptism date. I asked my mom if I could invite my second-grade teacher to my baptism. My mom said, “Of course.” I wrote my teacher an invitation and gave it to her. She said she would love to come but had a family commitment on the same day. Even though she wasn’t there for my baptism, I felt happy that I had invited her. Maybe it would make her curious about my beliefs.
Paige G., age 9, Texas, USA

“Lowell, can you stay a few minutes after class? I’d like to talk to you,” Mr. Taylor, my tenth-grade history teacher, asked. He addressed me directly, which drew the attention of the other students, something I didn’t want, but I answered with a reluctant nod that I would stay.
My schoolwork had suffered in the past few weeks. My sense of self-worth had practically disappeared, and I had developed an inferiority complex. I had a bad case of acne and had become self-conscious because of the blemishes on my face. There was no way I could hide them. I imagined everyone was looking at me and saying, “Look at that ugly, pimple-faced kid.” I didn’t feel there was any place for me, in or out of school.
I tried not to associate with anyone. What did it matter if I didn’t get good grades in school or participate in the sports I used to enjoy? Even my church duties became unimportant.
I felt especially bad about letting my grades drop off in history because I liked Mr. Taylor. He wasn’t a trained philosopher or psychologist, just a good teacher who was genuinely concerned about his students.
I stayed in my seat when the others left the classroom. Mr. Taylor came and sat in a desk opposite me.
“Lowell, your schoolwork has fallen off lately. You have gone from a B student to a D. But I don’t care about that as much as I care about what’s happening to you.” He paused, waiting to hear a comment from me, then continued.
“Maybe we could find a solution to get you back on track. Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you,” he said.
“Mr. Taylor, you see this acne on my face. I want to stay away from people. I don’t want anyone to see me. I really want to do as well as I can in school, but I don’t want to draw attention to my looks.” I stopped and waited for Mr. Taylor to speak.
“Do you think Coach Forsberg would say, ‘That kid has pimples, so he can’t play for me.’ No. If you can’t play for Coach Forsberg, it will be because you don’t put forth the effort. Do you think Coach Worthington is not going to let you high jump because your face doesn’t look just right? He doesn’t care if your nose is in the back of your head, as long as you are a good high jumper and can help the team,” said Mr. Taylor.
“Do you think if you work hard in my class and earn an A or a B, I’m going to say, ‘That kid has acne, so I’ll give him a D?’ Absolutely not, nor will any of your other teachers,” Mr. Taylor finished.
I gave what he told me a lot of thought. With my present self-conscious attitude, I wasn’t realizing any of my goals. I left the classroom with a determination to raise my head a little higher and test out his ideas.
I wasn’t a great football hero, but I made the team. I high jumped in track, and my grades improved. I even did my church duties again. I wasn’t a loner anymore. I had friends.
I was still conscious of my appearance, but I wasn’t letting it rule my life.
“Let what’s on the inside outshine what’s on the outside, and you’ll come out a winner,” Mr. Taylor used to say.
Thanks, Mr. Taylor.

David’s little sister, Susan, spun around the kitchen on the tips of her toes. “I’m going to marry the prince. The most handsome prince in all the kingdom.”
David shook his head in disgust. Susan pretended all the time. Lately, though, her pretending was worse than ever. So when she won the lead part in the third grade play, he was surprised. Susan had a learning disability; most of the time she read words and letters backward.
Now, every night, while he tried to work on his model airplane, she danced around him, sang around him, and practiced the same speaking part over and over.
“Be quiet,” David said. “Gluing this plane together is hard. I can’t do it if someone is bugging me.”
Susan stopped dancing. “You need to show some respect to the future princess.”
“Respect?” David questioned.
“Yeah. You know—like honoring me.”
A crooked grin crossed his face. “I respect peace and quiet!”
Susan shrugged and danced out of the room. “Suit yourself,” she called.
With a sigh of relief, David began to glue the landing gear onto his plane. “This is going to be my best model yet,” he told himself, dabbing a drop of glue on the wheel axle.
Mom came into the kitchen. “You need to clear the table, David. It’s time to eat.”
“I can’t clear the table now. I have to hold this in place until it dries.”
“David,” Mom said with her hands on her hips, “you need to show me a little more respect. Talking to me like that when I’ve asked you to do something is not showing respect.”
“Sorry.” As David gathered his airplane parts together, he wondered why everyone was talking about respect tonight. Why didn’t anybody respect him and let him finish building his airplane in peace?
The next morning, Mom asked him to wait after school and walk Susan home from play practice. His stomach felt as if he were on one of those up-and-down rides at the amusement park. He didn’t want to wait around after school for Susan. He wanted to get home and work on his airplane.
When the last bell rang for the day, David slowly walked to the school auditorium and slid into one of the backseats. He watched the third graders working on their play. Some of them were good and knew their parts. Others made a lot of mistakes—Susan was one of those. David felt bad for her.
As Susan began to do her part for the fourth time, a teacher slid into one of the seats next to David. “Oh, dear,” the teacher said, as she clasped her hands together and leaned forward. “She would make a perfect princess if only she could remember her lines.”
David slipped down farther in his seat. It hurt to hear someone talking about his little sister. Although her reading problems bothered him, he didn’t want to hear anyone talk negatively about her problem, not even a teacher.
After practice, David headed out of the school fast. Susan ran and skipped all the way to keep up with him. When they were almost home, Susan yanked on his arm. “Why are you going so fast?”
“I want to work on my plane.”
“Did you like my performance as a princess?”
“I … well … it … it needs work.”
Susan kicked at a dandelion in the grass. “I know. It’s just that no one has time to help me. Mom and Dad are busy helping Grandma and Grandpa since they’ve been sick. I don’t want to bother them. I read it over and over, but it just doesn’t come out the way the teacher says it should. Will you help me?”
“I can’t. I have to get my plane done. I want to enter it in the Model Club contest. I have some great ideas on how to paint it.”
Susan walked up the sidewalk to the house. “That’s OK. I’ll just try harder.”
Later that night, as David read the directions for his model plane, he felt as if he had swallowed a huge ball of cotton. The soggy lump was sinking slowly to his stomach and getting stuck along the way. He read the directions again. They were hard for him to understand.
Looking up, he saw Susan sitting at the couch trying to read her part. Her hands were clenched into fists, and her forehead was wrinkled like a raisin. He knew how hard Susan had to work at everything, and he respected her for that. He put his plane down.
Every day that week after school, he helped Susan learn her lines. Sometimes he wanted to quit and work on his plane, but he didn’t.
One week later, he sat next to Mom and Dad in the dark auditorium and watched Susan sing, dance, and say her lines perfectly. He thought she had to be the best princess—and the hardest-working one the third grade ever had!
When the play was over, David hurried to find her. She was still dressed in her princess outfit and was surrounded by the rest of the children in the play. David went up to her and handed her a rose. “You’re the best princess of all,” David said loudly. He wanted everyone to hear him. After all, she was his sister and he respected her.

One night I was sending instant messages on the Internet to Amber, a friend of mine. I can’t recall how we got started, but we were discussing God and my religious beliefs.
“I’m telling you, Ben, I’ve tried to pray before, and it doesn’t work. I just feel like I’m talking to the wall,” Amber wrote.
Relying on everything I had been taught since Primary, I responded, reassuring her that God does hear and answer His children who humbly approach Him. As I was reassuring her, I started to feel less sure myself. I began to feel guilty since I had never actually gotten down on my knees and prayed about all these things. The conversation progressed, and I became increasingly distressed at my lack of a personal testimony. My spiritual progression had been on the back burner for too long.
As a lifelong member of the Church, I sometimes took the gospel for granted. Don’t get me wrong, I knew that being in the Church was good, and I made sure I went to church every Sunday. However, I always depended on the testimonies of others to confirm that the Church was true. I always tried to be faithful, but I did not actively seek to apply Moroni’s promise to myself. Life was too complicated, and I thought there would be plenty of time for me to gain a personal testimony of the Church at some later point.
As I talked with Amber, I realized even more clearly what I was doing. I was neglecting the more spiritual things in my life in favor of trying to keep up with my hectic schedule. When was the last time I had read the scriptures? When was the last time I had a meaningful personal prayer? When was the last time I seriously thought about going on a mission?
Preoccupation with trying to calm my life’s storm by myself had taken away from my focus on building a testimony and having faith in the Lord. Ironically, a solid testimony would have served to make everything else in my life fall into place.
“Amber, don’t give up on praying. He will answer you,” I wrote, while thinking that I should follow my counsel.
Before I went to bed that night, I got on my knees and prayed. I asked to know if the gospel is true and if Heavenly Father was hearing my prayer. I wanted to know Him and feel His presence in my life. I realized then that I simply couldn’t wait any longer to gain a testimony of Him, especially during my turbulent teenage years. I prayed for a long time and knelt in silence for even longer, listening and feeling for the Spirit.
Nothing happened right away, but after I had sufficiently loosened my heart and made a concentrated effort to listen amidst the quiet darkness, I felt a sensation of peace throughout my upper body. As I held on to this defining moment of joy, I knew His Spirit had touched me. Finally, I had a personal testimony of Him that I could share with others. Even though I knew my life would still be hard and full of uncertainties, knowing that He was there for me made all the difference.

Hospitality is one of the fundamental principles of Islam. In social or business contacts, an Arab will express sincere concern for his guests and expect them to share his proffered coffee or tea. This courtesy has allowed me to explain the Word of Wisdom to Arab men—from the king of Saudi Arabia in his palace to camel herdsmen around their camp fires. They accept my belief without offense because it is similar to their health code, which requires abstinence from pork and alcohol. Strict Muslims also do not smoke.
Once, at the request of my employer, I accompanied him on a visit to the ruler of another Muslim country. We were part of a small group of sheikhs and government officials. We dined at the palace and were flown to the ruler’s private retreat. During one of the meals, several of the Muslims ordered wine. When I declined, someone joked about my becoming a Muslim, so I explained that I don’t drink because of my religious beliefs. Their consciences pricked, two of the men urged me to join with them. His Highness, the crown prince of Bahrain—my employer at the time—silenced them, and, turning to me, said, “Joe, don’t ever change.” I have always been thankful for my employer’s appreciation of my faith.

I have a group of friends we refer to as the Pink Ladies. We have two sidekicks we call the KKs but they are not in the story today.:) We have been friends for 30+ years. We are family, we once conjured up a family tree from a made-up common ancestor: Captain Cook (well, he’s real, but we just made up the part about him being our ancestor). We learned early on in our friendship family that these were friends and sisters you could call on when you need help; friends who would lay down their lives for a while to lend a helping hand. If you needed something done all you had to do was turn it into a party. Need something sewn? It’s a sewing party. Need wedding favors made? It’s a favor making party. Need your house painted? It’s a painting party. Need walls washed? It’s a wall washing party. Need to raise money? It’s a garage sale party. Need something eaten? Well, we’d mostly go hide and eat it by ourselves, but we always had food at all the other types of parties. Whatever you needed help with? That was our next party.

In time we progressed in our lives, careers, families. Some got married and had children, others moved away to the mainland to pursue opportunities. We went our separate ways but always kept in touch. We are now a bunch of mothers, aunties, teachers, professionals, chefs, aerobic instructors, coaches, seamstresses, crafters, organizers, bakers, entrepreneurs, and singers. You name it, one of these ladies can do it. One of us is not only the mother of her own five children she is also the mother to five football teams; let me rephrase that to add a whole other level of crazy, she is the mother of five red raider tomahawk chopping football teams.

Nothing brings you back together like a friend in need. So what do you do when your own dear sister within the Cook Family is stricken with stage 4 breast cancer with a grim outlook? {show picture of pink party} Well, you have a pink party of course. Lots of them. Pink videos, pink costumes, eating out, driving to doctor appointments, singing, laughing, crying, giving massages, bonding. Our last year with our sister Natasha Vimahi held some of the sweetest, most treasured memories of all. And it came, for a small time, because we laid aside a little bit of our lives to be with our dear friend. There is no greater love.

I grew up in a family in which my parents have been a glowing example to my two brothers, my sister, and me, and our family has received many blessings because of their efforts. For instance, we have grown together to become a close family, turning to each other in times of need or trials. And although some of my family members are less active, they still join in family home evening.
I spent some time living in Sydney, Australia, and was very homesick living so far from Ireland. Luckily, I lived near a Church meetinghouse where I attended family home evening with other young adults. This was a great blessing to me, and when I attended, I no longer felt homesick. It was great to mingle with fellow members in a relaxed setting and where the Spirit was present.
Linda Ryan, Ireland

At the same time, many Congolese emigrants found the Church in Europe and the United States. Mbuyi Nkitabungi was baptized in Belgium in 1980, served a full-time mission in England, and then felt prompted to return home in 1985. “One of my righteous objectives is to build … Zion in the heart of Zaïre,” he wrote to Church headquarters. “I know there is quite a few members from my country who are waiting for that opportunity. … Tell me everything I have to do.”
Nkitabungi was put in contact with other members in Kinshasa, who met in the home of Mike and Katie Bowcutt, an American couple. Like Nkitabungi, many members were Congolese Saints who had joined the Church abroad. Because the Church was still not legally recognized, however, the members held no public meetings. Nevertheless, the group quickly outgrew the Bowcutts’ home and moved their meetings to Nkitabungi’s garage.
In February 1986, the president of the country promised during a broadcast on state-run television that he would grant the Church legal recognition, and members soon began preaching the gospel openly. That same month, Ralph and Jean Hutchings, the first missionaries called to Zaïre, arrived and found a growing group in Kinshasa. Recognition was granted officially in April, and by June 1987 the Church was growing so quickly in Zaïre that a mission was organized, with Ralph Hutchings as president.
Missionaries also reached out to the unofficial congregations near Lubumbashi. Although the transition proved difficult for some, a second center of strength soon emerged. Between May and July 1987, 170 people were baptized. Some were traveling as far as 300 kilometers (186 miles) from Pweto, Kolwezi, and Likasi to attend meetings.
When 21-year-old Elie Monga of Kolwezi read the Book of Mormon in 1987, he was impressed. “I strongly felt,” he later said, “that that’s what I need.” Monga traveled the 300 kilometers to Lubumbashi to meet with the missionaries. After only one discussion, he decided to be baptized. After his baptism, with encouragement from missionaries, he held Sunday School meetings in his home. “We started gathering and teaching our friends [and family],” he said, “bringing them the message of hope through the restored gospel.” A large group was soon meeting in Monga’s home. When the first baptismal service in Kolwezi was held the next year, it took more than three and a half hours for Monga to baptize the 82 converts who had accepted the gospel. It was one success among many: in 1990, just four years after the Church received government recognition, branches and districts were thriving in Kinshasa, Lubumbashi, and many other cities throughout the country.

When I was 11 years old, I was baptized as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, a decision that stands out as the most significant in my life. I am thankful for the gospel’s influence on me as a young girl. My dreams were always centered around having an eternal family. Because of the covenants I would one day make in the temple, I knew that I could be with my loved ones forever.
I met my husband when I was a young woman, and after he served his mission, we got married in 1999. We had our first child a year later, the same year that the Santo Domingo Dominican Republic Temple was dedicated. We were sealed in the temple when our baby was just three months old. I remember when they brought him dressed in white into the sealing room. It was one of the happiest moments of my life, achieving the goal I had set as a young woman—to be sealed for eternity with my family.
Our second child was born four years later, and I was happy because everything I had planned and prayed for was coming true. We had faced difficulties, but I felt like I was a beloved daughter of God, blessed with an eternal family.

The room is charged with competitive energy. Dancers in sparkling dresses and sharp tuxedoes swirl and spin on an open dance floor under brightly colored lights. The Brigham Young University DanceSport Ballroom Competition is in full swing, and the music and tension mount as more and more competitors fill the floor.
Then suddenly the din of the crowd quiets, and the competitive edge of the atmosphere dissipates as a new group of couples takes the floor.
Who are they? Special Olympics athletes and their volunteer partners are competing in their first-ever ballroom dance event. The music begins, and the crowd, with supportive enthusiasm, erupts into cheers as the couples begin to gracefully waltz across the floor.
From the sidelines, college sophomore Allie Edgington watches as her goal to create a Special Olympics dance event unfolds. It was a dream that was sparked, in part, by her love for her sisters. And now it is a reality blessing many lives and helping Allie and others understand how Heavenly Father loves His children.
Support and encouragement are second nature among Allie and her siblings. Their trials bring them closer, and their triumphs take them all higher. Allie’s brother and twin sisters were all diagnosed with Fragile X Syndrome, a genetic condition resulting in mental impairment and autistic behaviors.
Allie, an avid dancer, is a dance education major and a member of BYU’s touring ballroom team. In 2008 she was named Miss Provo, going on to become the first runner-up to Miss Utah 2009. As the title holder, Allie needed a platform or specific cause to promote. She showed her support for her siblings by promoting Special Olympics. For the past seven years Allie’s brother, Tanner, has competed in Special Olympics, a program providing Olympic-style athletic events for disabled children and adults.
However, Allie noticed that her younger sisters, 17-year-old twins Courtney and Cassidy, were reluctant to participate. “Our brother has done well in Special Olympics, and he likes it a lot, but we’re just not so into it,” Courtney explains.
Wanting her sisters to succeed, Allie started looking for ideas. “I got to thinking that maybe there was some way to get them involved, some way to help them be comfortable enough to participate,” Allie says.
When a friend mentioned that the state of Indiana had held the first Special Olympics dance event, Allie knew she had found her solution. Combining her dance education major with her Special Olympics platform and her desire to help her sisters, Allie hatched a plan to create a Special Olympics ballroom dance event in Provo.
The waltz music finishes, and the Special Olympics couples spin out and take deep bows for the enthusiastic crowd. Then they exit the floor and file into a row of chairs on the sidelines or go backstage to wait for their next event, the cha-cha.
Backstage, Courtney sits with her sister Cassidy and cradles a pair of high-heeled ballroom shoes in her lap. They are scuffed and very flexible. “They’re comfortable because Allie wore them out,” Courtney explains, “and now I get to use them.”
While lively music blares from the speakers, Courtney quietly talks about her sister. “I want to be like Allie. She dances a lot, and I want to do a lot of dance at my school.” Cassidy chimes in, “I’ve learned a lot from just watching her.”
More than just learning steps and routines, these sisters know that they’ve learned a lot about life by dancing with their sister. “I can have fun, even though some things are still a little scary. I can be comfortable,” Courtney says. When asked about what advice she would give to other teens, she adds, “Just get involved and do things that you don’t usually do. Get out and have fun!”
Allie’s idea helped her sisters to get out and have fun and, in the end, it was also a great way for the other athletes and volunteers to try something new.
Out by the dance floor, Emily Chai, one of the volunteers, sits with Connor Morris, her cha-cha partner. Like other athletes and volunteers, they’ve become good friends while learning to dance together. “After practices we all would stay and get involved in an impromptu dance party. I think we all just loved the interaction,” Emily says.
Interaction was one of Allie’s biggest goals for the athletes. Over the course of a few months, she taught six weekly workshops where the athletes were matched with a volunteer partner and learned to dance. “I hoped that the experience would give the athletes a chance to interact with people they really look up to and admire,” Allie explains.
For Emily, these workshops were one of the best parts of the experience. “It has been fun to watch the participants get really excited. I think that excitement became the whole reason I wanted to do this.”
The other competitors soon take their final bow, and it’s time for the Special Olympics athletes to perform the cha-cha. While everyone lines up and gets ready to go back onto the floor, Keilani Stolk, another volunteer, excitedly describes the feeling of dancing with the Special Olympics athletes. “It’s not about how good you are; it’s about having fun and being friends.” In Special Olympics, there are no winners and losers, only athletes trying their best and having fun.
Richard, a past member of the BYU ballroom touring team, adds, “It is so rare to have an event where you just care how everyone else is doing. I just want everyone to have fun and to do well.”
Under the bright lights these special dancers spin, twirl, and cha-cha to a chorus of cheers and claps from the crowd. It is clear from the smiles on their faces and the enthusiasm they show in their dance that, for these dancers, having fun and supporting each other is the goal.
“The athletes just have the most wonderful spirit about them,” Allie says, watching from the sidelines as her students perform. “Instead of focusing on those things they can’t do, they come and have so much happiness in the things they can do.”
Looking back on her experience, Allie knows that she has been blessed. Beginning a Special Olympics ballroom event allowed her to help her sisters, helped her move forward on her own goals, and strengthened her understanding of God’s love. Watching her students take their final bow, Allie says, “The athletes’ love for life is such a testimony to me of the purity and goodness that can exist in the world. They give so freely of their own love to everyone. I know that Heavenly Father loves them.”

When I was 12 years old, I was injured in a BB gun accident that caused the complete loss of sight in my right eye. In addition to the insecurity that came from the slight disfigurement, I was more than a little anxious about living life without full vision.
About a year after the accident, I traveled with my father and brother to attend a general priesthood meeting in Salt Lake City. In anticipation of being in the same auditorium with a prophet of God, I began to think that if I could just look at President Ezra Taft Benson with my injured eye, somehow the powers of heaven would flow from God through that prophet directly to me, and my sight would be restored.
President Benson did not speak at the priesthood meeting that evening, though he was on the stand. During the first few talks, I directed the gaze of my blinded eye (if you can call it a gaze) directly at President Benson.
Initially, nothing happened, but I was undaunted. Hoping that decreasing the distance to the prophet would increase the possibility that a miracle would occur, I inched forward in my seat, leaned my entire body over the balcony, and gazed even more intensely at the stand.
Now, I really would like nothing more than to relate to you an inspiring account of how my faith was rewarded and my vision miraculously restored. But it didn’t happen that night in Salt Lake nor in the days that followed. In fact, even today, I still have vision in only one eye.[14]
Thankfully, what I can see is how Heavenly Father has provided me with everything I need to live with the consequences of the accident. Some of my other senses became more acute, which helped me compensate. I was given divine courage to try things I didn’t think I could do. Most importantly, I received confirmation that this physical limitation does not define my worth or limit my ability to contribute to the Lord’s work. We all have challenges that remain with us throughout this life. I know from personal experience that the Lord will strengthen us in our trials so that we are able to “bear up our burdens”[15] in a determined and cheerful way.

I learned the importance of focusing on people when I served as a stake president in France. At the beginning of my service, I had in mind some very ambitious goals for the stake: the creation of new wards, the building of new meetinghouses, and even the construction of a temple in our area. When I was released six years later, not one of these objectives had been achieved. This could have felt like a complete failure except that, during the course of those six years, my objectives had become quite different.
As I sat on the stand on the day of my release, I was overwhelmed by a profound sense of gratitude and accomplishment. I looked at the faces of the hundreds of members in attendance. I could recall a spiritual experience connected with each one of them.
There were those brothers and sisters who had entered the waters of baptism, those for whom I had signed their first recommends so they could receive the sacred ordinances of the temple, and those young people and couples I had set apart or released as full-time missionaries. There were many others to whom I had ministered as they were going through trials and adversity in their lives. I felt intense brotherly love for each of them. I had found pure joy in serving them and rejoiced in their increased loyalty to and faith in the Savior.

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf: I was assigned to accompany then-Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf to reorganize a stake and select a new stake president in Texas. After our interviews, we both had good feelings about a certain man. He asked me if I felt this was the right man. I answered that I thought he was the right man, but that I did not feel that I had received a firm spiritual confirmation. We continued to discuss and pray and still I did not feel that I had the solid confirmation I wanted, so he simply asked me, "Well, do you have a better idea?" It was time to make the decision. We went ahead and called the man and as we went forward, it became clear that he was certainly the Lord's choice. Brigham Young said it this way:
"If I do not know the will of my Father, and what he requires of me in a certain transaction, if I ask Him to give me wisdom concerning any requirement in life, or in regard to my own course, ...or those I preside over, and get no answer from Him, and then do the very best that judgment will teach me, He is bound to...honor that transaction, and He will do so to all intents and purposes."[8]
If you do your homework, study it out, and earnestly plead with the Lord for an answer and do not feel you have received it--go ahead with your best judgment and the Lord will either back up your decision or He will soon warn you that you are going down the wrong path.

“Face the music, even when you can’t call the tune,” says a brother forced to take disability leave as his wife returns to the workforce to support their family. He believes that too often we put on a happy face that prevents us from processing our feelings or improving our outlook. “Instead of moving forward with faith, we stagnate as we wait for a miracle or murmur when one doesn’t come,” he says. He copes by listening to scriptures and general conference talks and by visiting with friends and family on the phone.

In conclusion, will you come with me into a classroom of 12- and 13-year-old young women. Listen as you hear the learners discover doctrine. Notice the experience the teacher provides for the learners so that they can connect the doctrine to the reality of their lives. Feel the accompanying witness of the Spirit:
Our teacher moves her chair closer into the semicircle of five girls. “We have a guest waiting outside,” she begins. “It is Sister Jonas. She has agreed to show us her tiny baby and tell us how she feels about being a new mother. As you watch this new little baby, would you also notice his mother—how she treats the baby, what she does, what she says. We’ll talk about her visit after she leaves.”
Sister Jonas comes in, spends seven or eight minutes talking about her baby and answering questions. The girls thank her, and she leaves the classroom.
“The baby was darling, wasn’t he?” our teacher responds to the delighted hum of the class. “But what did you notice about the mother?”
A minute of silence and then a response: “Well, she was happy.” Another: “She kind of rocked back and forth the whole time she was holding him.” A few more responses, and then Katie slowly begins, “She—ummm—she talked really quietly.”
“Could you say more about that?” the teacher coaxes.
“Well, her voice reminds me of my mother’s voice when she called from the hospital to tell us we had a new baby sister last year.”
The teacher, turning to the other girls: “What do you think? Did anyone else notice her voice?”
The girls become more thoughtful and begin to reply with words like “reverence,” “heaven,” “love.”
The teacher: “I think I understand. I believe those words come to our minds because we are recognizing a great gift from our Heavenly Father. He loves us and trusts us so much that He is willing to share His creative powers with us. We feel such gratitude and reverence for this trust. Motherhood is a divine role.”
After this clear statement of doctrine and testimony, our teacher moves on to an activity where the girls identify qualities their own mothers exhibit that show an understanding of the divinity of motherhood. “Could each of you prepare for motherhood right now by practicing one of these very virtues—maybe being more patient, kinder, or more positive this week?”
Each girl talks about her choice. Our teacher bears personal testimony. The closing prayer is offered.

Elder Robert D. Hales poignantly illustrated this point in the following story:
We were newly married and had very little money. . . . I saw a beautiful dress in a store window and suggested to my wife that if she liked it, we would buy it. Mary went into the dressing room of the store. After a moment the salesclerk came out, brushed by me, and returned the dress to its place in the store window. As we left the store, I asked, “What happened?” She replied, “It was a beautiful dress, but we can’t afford it!” Those words went straight to my heart.
Elder Hales finished this story saying, “I have learned that the three most loving words are ‘I love you,’ and the four most caring words for those we love are ‘We can’t afford it.’”16

BARBARA: I have a friend I am really close to at school. We were both trying out for something. We worked together, and helped each other, and we even prayed for each other. Then talking with her the other day, I found out she isn’t a member of our church. She is a Buddhist! I was so surprised! The whole time I had been treating her like a Mormon. We had become really close; she came up to me one day, started crying, and told me how much she appreciated me. And I thought, if we could only treat everyone as if he were a member, then we’d have no problems.

Loni has been engaged as a youth advocate since she was 15 years of age. She served as a youth representative on the Maungakiekie-T?maki local board, one of the 21 local boards of the Auckland Council.
While attending University of Auckland, Loni also served on the Auckland Council Youth Advisory panel, working alongside Auckland mayor at the time, Len Brown.
With her focus and passion on youth, she explained, “I wanted to make my area [Maungakiekie—T?maki] liveable . . . because that's the whole purpose of council.”
Loni started looking at projects and preventions for many issues facing Pacific youth. She kept asking herself, “What can I do?”
Because of the rising number of social issues in the community, she joined a passionate group of community change makers in creating initiatives to help solve social issues concerning youth. One of the key initiatives was “Phenomenal Young Women” which focused on building young women’s well-being in all aspects of life.
Phenomenal Young Women creates “safe spaces for young women in T?maki to connect, grow well-being, feel confident to try new things, and have fun.”
These experiences, Loni’s connections within the local and city councils, and her ability to connect with people, prepared her to be the librarian at the local board’s library in T?maki. But when approached about taking that post, she hesitated.
Loni has always wanted to work as a humanitarian. She never thought she would be a librarian, and she didn’t go to the library when she was young.
“I felt like Heavenly Father just handed me opportunities, but I was trying to ignore it, because it was not part of me,” she said.
“You know how you have your own plan, and He gives you His plan?”
After praying and fasting about it, she decided to take the position.
“My dream was to be a humanitarian, and this was the door to it,” Loni reflected. “Working in the library, I always wanted to give back . . . but I didn’t see the [opportunity] until Cyclone Gita hit [Tonga].”
It was in the aftermath of Cyclone Gita, that Loni’s engagement on the national level began. Being a librarian and also Tongan, and well-known for her work in the T?maki community, she was asked to help establish the first public library in her beloved island nation of Tonga and serve as the first librarian.
With schools and educational resources destroyed, Loni worked tirelessly with founders, Kahoa and Brendon Corbett, as donations of thousands of books from over 50 Auckland Council libraries, as well as computers, and even bicycles, were brought to the renovated community fale (centre).
The library opened in October 2019, in the village of Kolovai, with plans for a second library underway in a nearby town.
Loni paid her own fare on her trips to Tonga, lived by herself, and donated her time and talents to establish the library. She started weekend English classes, children’s programs, computer and family history classes, job application skills classes, and even bicycle rentals.
She says, “Tongans now understand that a library is more than a building—it is a safe place for growth and development, connections, and learning for many different reasons.”
For Loni, the definition of humanitarian is: “Love for humanity, doing things for the well-being of the human being without price . . . no matter what it is . . . or where [people] are from, or what their circumstances are. And so, my drive for humanitarian projects is the pure love that service brings.”
“Being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is one of the greatest things,” says Loni. “If I didn’t have it, I wouldn’t understand my Heavenly Father’s plan and my plan, to align [them] together and it will be bigger than what I think it could be.”
UN Youth Day is an opportunity to celebrate and reinforce the achievements of young people. Loniana Fifita’s accomplishments and achievements are great examples of what a young person can achieve with passion, talent, and lots of love.