Gospel Story Finder

We had barely arrived in our motel room when the phone rang. I knew it would be bad news about Jodi, my nine-month-old sister. She had been in a coma since birth and required round-the-clock monitoring and special tubal feedings. We had left Jodi temporarily at a care center so our family could take a much-needed vacation.
I answered the phone. My grandpa was on the line. His voice was firm: “Get your dad.”
Their conversation ended quickly. My fears were confirmed. Jodi had died.
The next day, after we had arrived home, I breathed a sigh of relief. The school bus was at the top of the street. My friends would be coming. At last I would have somebody my own age to share my pain.
However, as I stood in my driveway waiting for my friends, something strange happened. It was almost as if I had become invisible. I watched as my friends crossed to the other side of the street and continued talking with one another. They didn’t even look at me.
The next morning my friends didn’t pick me up as they usually did. “That’s understandable,” I thought. They probably knew I wasn’t going to school because of funeral planning. But they didn’t come the next day or the next or the next. They didn’t wait for me after school either.
During this time my family received lots of support from the Relief Society and other ward members. However, chicken casserole did little to soothe my 13-year-old aching heart. When I returned to Mutual, my adviser gave a lesson on life after death. I started crying. My adviser looked down and continued reading. My classmates stared ahead. I sobbed. How I wished somebody would have cried with me or put her arms around me.
Looking back on these events, I realize that my friends were not cruel and uncaring. They just didn’t know how to respond to my pain. They assumed that I wanted to be left alone to grieve and, since I was in mourning, I would not want to do anything fun.

After my first year of university studies, I began a project to better understand the Bible. I decided to study the teachings of a few religious groups I had heard were not Christian and then compare them to the teachings of the Bible.
As the next semester began, I started studying The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. One of my classes required laboratory work with a partner, and I prayed for someone with whom I could learn what I needed to learn.
I chose a lab bench, and soon a student approached and asked if I had a partner. He introduced himself as Lincoln. I didn’t remember seeing him at school the year before and asked if he had transferred.
“Actually,” he said, “I just returned from serving as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
I told Lincoln I had begun studying his church and had some questions. He happily agreed to answer them.
During the next three months, I asked questions about the Book of Mormon, temples, latter-day prophets, and modern revelation. Although I learned a great deal during this time, I still thought that Mormons weren’t Christians.
One weekend our school lost a big game. Some teachers in the lab vigorously discussed the loss, repeatedly using the Lord’s name in vain. Lincoln approached the teachers and asked them if they would please stop speaking about Jesus Christ that way.
“Does that really bother you?” they asked with some doubt.
“Yes,” Lincoln replied. “Jesus Christ is my best friend.”
At that moment, my investigation of the Church changed from an intellectual exercise to a question of faith. If this religion produced men like this, it was Christian in every way that mattered.
As Lincoln and I left that night, I asked if I could attend church with him sometime. After going to church, I asked him if I could have a copy of the Book of Mormon and if I could meet with the missionaries.
For two years I investigated the Church and spent time with its members. I saw a consistent pattern of sincere men and women diligently striving to be disciples of the Master. On numerous occasions the Holy Ghost confirmed to me that Jesus Christ, whom I had always tried my best to serve, really had restored His Church in our day. It was overseen by prophets and apostles and led directly by Him.
I was baptized and have now enjoyed more than a dozen years of blessings from the restored gospel and its teachings. How grateful I am that Heavenly Father answered my prayer to find a lab partner who would help me learn what I needed to learn.

In my own immediate neighborhood we have had our share of heart-wrenching tragedies. In October 1998, 19-year-old Zac Newton, who lived only three houses east of us, was killed in a tragic automobile accident.
Less than two years later, in July, 19-year-old Andrea Richards, who lived directly across from the Newtons, was killed in an automobile accident.
One Saturday afternoon in July 2006, Travis Bastian, a 28-year-old returned missionary, and his 15-year-old sister, Desiree, who lived across the street and two houses north of us, were killed in a terrible automobile accident.
One month later, in August 2006, 32-year-old Eric Gold, who grew up in the house next door to us, suffered a premature death. And others in this neighborhood have also suffered heart-wrenching experiences privately endured and known only to themselves and God.
With the loss of five young people, one might assume that this is an unusual number of trials for one small neighborhood. I choose to think the number only seems large because of a close, caring ward, whose members know when there is a pressing need. It is a ward with members who are following the admonition of Alma and the Savior—members who care and love and bear one another’s burdens, members who are willing to mourn with those that mourn, members who are willing to comfort those in need of comfort, members who endure together.
In each of these instances we saw an outpouring of love, service, and compassion that was inspirational to all. Bishops arrived, home and visiting teachers went into action, and Melchizedek and Aaronic Priesthood quorums and Relief Societies organized to take care of both spiritual and temporal needs. Refrigerators were stocked, houses cleaned, lawns mowed, shrubs trimmed, fences painted, blessings given, and soft shoulders were available for crying on. Members were everywhere.
In every one of these instances, the families who lost a loved one expressed increased faith, increased love for the Savior, increased gratitude for the Atonement, and heartfelt thankfulness for an organization that responds to the deepest emotional and spiritual needs of its members. These families now speak about how they got to know the Lord through their adversity. They relate many sweet experiences that grew out of their pain. They testify that blessings can emerge from heartbreak. They give praise to the Lord and would echo the words of Job: “The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord” (Job 1:21).

Scott sat slumped over in the backseat of the car.
“Are you feeling OK?” Mom asked.
“Yeah, I guess so,” he moaned.
But Scott wasn’t feeling well. In fact, he felt like he’d just been hit in the stomach. And it was all because of what Sister Thomas, the Primary president, had said during Primary that morning:
“Children, next week is the beginning of a new year in Primary. That means you will all advance to the next class and have a new teacher. Isn’t that exciting?”
Scott didn’t think so. He didn’t want a new teacher. He liked his old one just fine. She told the best stories, and she always smelled good. “Mom,” he said now, “I’m not going to Primary next week.”
His parents looked at each other in surprise.
“I thought you loved Primary, Son,” Dad said, keeping his eyes on the road.
“I do! I—I mean, I did,” Scott said sadly.
For family home evening, Dad gave a lesson about how changes are a part of life and how we should welcome them as opportunities for growth. Scott knew that his parents were trying to help, but he didn’t feel much like growing at the moment.
It was easy not to think about Primary during school. And on Tuesday, Scott had violin lessons that kept him so busy practicing that he almost forgot about Primary completely—until Wednesday. That’s when he found a note taped to his front door. It was a small piece of white paper folded in half and with his name written carefully on the front. Scott unfolded it and read:
Dear Scott,
Welcome to our Primary class! I have been watching you each Sunday, and I know that you are a boy who is trying to live the gospel.
I will send you a few clues about myself. Can you figure out who I am before Sunday?
Your Mystery Primary Teacher
P.S. I have black hair.
Puzzled, Scott folded the note and stuffed it into his backpack.
On Thursday, this note was on his door:
Hi Scott!
I saw you playing outside with your friends yesterday. I like the way you get along so well with them. That’s a good quality to have. Do you know who I am yet?
Your Mystery Teacher
P.S. I like to ride bikes, too!
Who could it be? Scott wondered. He thought about the sisters in his ward. He couldn’t think of any black-haired, bike-riding ladies.
Scott raced home from the bus stop on Friday. He was disappointed to not see a note taped to the front door. He dumped his backpack in the hallway and went into the kitchen for a snack.
“It must have blown off the door,” Mom said as she handed him a familiar-looking piece of white paper. She smiled as Scott read it aloud:
Dear Scott,
I’ve heard that you are an excellent reader. That’s great because we will be reading the scriptures all year in class. Would you come prepared to read 2 Timothy 3:14–15 on Sunday?
Thanks!
Y. M. T.
P.S. Sometimes I wear glasses when I read.
When Scott took out the trash on Saturday, he found another note:
Dear Scott,
Tomorrow is the big day! I’m looking forward to having you in my class. Do you know me? I know you!
Love,
Your (Favorite) Mystery Teacher
P.S. I will be wearing something with flowers on it.
On Sunday, Scott was up and dressed before everyone else. “I thought you weren’t going to Primary anymore,” his mom teased.
“Well, I’m only going today.”
The chapel was nearly full when Scott and his family found their seats. Quickly he scanned each row. He couldn’t believe that so many women in the ward had black hair. He noticed Sister Veatch with little glasses perched on her nose, but she wasn’t wearing anything flowered. And Scott tried not to giggle as he imagined Sister Cousins riding a bicycle.
The Primary room buzzed with excitement as the children located their new seats. Scott and his friends settled into the two rows marked for their class. They were surprised to find the teacher’s chair still empty.
Emily leaned over and whispered, “It has to be Sister Hernandez. She has black hair, and when she comes to visit teach my mom, she always wears those funny little glasses.”
“But what about bike riding?” asked Stasha.
“I’ve seen her riding bikes with her kids!” Tyler offered. It was then they heard the sound of chair legs scraping the floor behind them. The children stiffened and held their breaths as “the mystery teacher” slipped quietly into her seat. Together they turned and peeked over their shoulders.
“Dad!” shouted Scott.
“Hey, Brother Weatherford! Nice tie!”
The mystery teacher put a finger to his lips and winked at the class. “Welcome to Primary,” he whispered.
Scott grinned and turned back in his chair. I think I’ll keep coming to Primary, he decided as Sister Thomas stood to welcome the children to the first day in their new Primary classes.

When my husband announced to his mother that he was going to marry me, a rather tall blonde, she replied, “She’s a lovely girl, but isn’t she a little short?”
We have laughed about that since. I suppose there had to be some shortcomings in a girl who was to take over the number-one spot in her son’s life—he with the straight A’s and straightened teeth. She had sacrificed for him by selling her cows and their cream, her sheep and their shearing, to put him through medical school—and he had turned out to be her idea of an ideal man.
But, luckily for me, she didn’t require that he marry an ideal girl. She accepted me and loved me immediately and unconditionally for everything I was—and for some things I wasn’t. That’s why I lovingly referred to her not as my “mother-in-law,” but as my “mother-in-love.”

When I joined the Church, I attended a small branch in the Philippines where the members were very close and worked in unity.
Gradually, the branch grew and prospered. New chairs came, then a new sacrament table. Then we moved to a spacious apartment and even had a new organ. Three years later, some land was purchased for our future meetinghouse.
During this period of growth, the unity of our branch was occasionally tested. After some particularly hurtful gossip reached me, I decided to leave the Church. For the next six Sundays I did not attend any meetings, although I wished I were there. I especially wanted to partake of the sacrament and renew my covenants.
One day I knelt in prayer and asked for strength, courage, and enlightenment. Still on my knees, I caught sight of a book on the floor. I picked up a dusty and neglected volume of scripture and began paging through it, hoping to find some lines that would ease my pain. I stopped at D&C 136:29–30: “If thou art sorrowful, call on the Lord thy God with supplication, that your souls may be joyful. Fear not thine enemies.”
After reading the verses, I felt lighter in spirit, and my courage returned. I would go back to church.
But the next Sunday, as I neared the meetinghouse, I felt apprehensive. Would they welcome me again? Would I hear whispering behind my back? Or would they ignore me altogether? My feet dragged the closer I got to the door.
Then I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder, and before I could turn around, an arm encircled me in a tender embrace. Then another hand reached out to clasp mine. Other friends burst from the door with warm smiles, each one expressing joy for my return.
As we sang the opening hymn, “Though Deepening Trials” (Hymns, number 122), a feeling of peace filled me, and the feelings of hurt and resentment melted away. Warm tears blurred my vision, and I could no longer see the words in the hymnbook. I closed my eyes tightly and gratefully whispered, “Father, thanks for leading me back to the fold.”

One way in particular that Mallory and Macie had to rely on the Lord was in recommending their counselors and others for callings in Relief Society. It was a rather daunting task at first, considering they were as new to the ward as they were to the calling and thus hardly knew anyone. Each of them prayed and then went door-to-door trying to get to know the girls in her Relief Society. Mallory says, “I asked the Lord to help me seek those who would be able to grow in the callings and also be able to help the other girls grow.” After that it was a matter of being in tune with the Spirit to know who felt right for the position. She was grateful to be able to counsel with her bishop, who holds the keys to approve callings in the ward.
Through her prayers, Macie has been able to touch the life of at least one girl through inspiration. “One of the girls I had recommended for a calling came up to me and was in tears. She told me that she had been praying for something and felt like she needed to get involved. This calling was what she needed. I know the Lord was the one who called her, but it made me feel good that I could help her out.”
“One of my favorite things to do during Relief Society is to sit up at the front during the opening hymn and look at each girl’s face,” says Mallory. “It’s a different perspective. You see them all as equal—they are all great people. And I’ve learned that everyone has something to offer, which is a perspective that I have often prayed for.”
Mallory considers being able to see the girls through the Lord’s eyes as one of the biggest blessings of her calling. But she says that you don’t need to be the Relief Society president to feel that. Anyone can pray and ask Heavenly Father for the ability to see people as children of God and appreciate what they have to offer.
“It’s been really humbling,” says Mallory of receiving this calling. “I look around and see so many great girls, and I realize any of them could be a Relief Society president with the Lord’s help, because we are instruments in His hands.”
After all, you never know just when the Lord might call on you to lead, whether it be in your Young Women class presidency or as president of the Relief Society. Macie and Mallory admit they were surprised, but that hasn’t stopped them from accepting the opportunity to serve.
And now both of them also have a new perspective on Relief Society.
When she first moved into Relief Society at home, Macie thought it was a challenge to fit in with the older women. Mallory’s home ward tried to ease the transition by periodically inviting the Laurels to Relief Society lessons and activities, so she had a taste of what it was like, but in the back of her mind she still had a fear that they were going to spend a lot of time sewing. However, both Mallory and Macie now understand the reasons for programs like home, family, and personal enrichment and are able to gear them toward the women their age.
“I have a greater appreciation for Relief Society now,” Macie says. “I don’t think it’s just an old ladies society anymore.”
And just as both girls turned to their mothers for words of advice and comfort in their new callings, Mallory says that with the right attitude, the younger women can learn from the older women. Then, that sisterhood she and Macie have come to embrace can be extended across the generations.
For help with the transition to Relief Society, go to www.lds.org and click on Serving in the Church, Relief Society, and then Transitioning into Womanhood.

Youth from the Newcastle Stake and surrounding districts in Australia make the most of their Easter break youth conference. Some 120 young people gathered for last year’s activity, with the theme, “I teach them correct principles and they govern themselves.”

They had dances. They had waterfights. They had fun old movies. They put snags (sausages) on the barby. They had firesides, church meetings, and the best-loved testimony meeting.

But a major part of the conference was spent cleaning up the land around the Richmond Vale Mine Museum, at a historic coal mine. They pulled weeds, cleared train tracks, moved logs, and basically tidied up the area.

As we come to the close of another conference, our spirits have been lifted, our minds inspired, and our souls filled.
The messages delivered at this pulpit have provided words of counsel and guidance for our journey through mortality. The prayers have been offered with humility, and their petitions reflect the feelings of our hearts. The angelic music provided by the choirs at each session has confirmed the Lord’s words that “the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads” (D&C 25:12).
We sincerely regret that President Ezra Taft Benson has been unable to be with us here in the Tabernacle. Nonetheless, we have felt his spirit throughout the proceedings. His love of the Lord, for the membership of the Church, and for God’s children everywhere is legendary. His many acts of kindness have blessed the lives of those with whom he has met everywhere he has gone.
One Friday, he and Sister Benson followed their usual practice of attending a session at the Jordan River Temple. While there, President Benson was approached by a young man who greeted him with joy in his heart and announced that he had been called to fill a full-time mission. President Benson took the newly called missionary by the hand and, with a smile on his lips, declared, “Take me with you! Take me with you!” That missionary testified that, in a way, he took President Benson with him on his mission, since this greeting demonstrated President Benson’s abiding love, his devotion to missionary work, and his desire to ever be found in the service of the Lord.
With the rapidly developing changes on the face of Europe, we remember President Benson’s great service to the hungry and to the homeless on that continent at the close of World War II. In attendance today is one who was the recipient of such service. She recently wrote to President Benson: “This is the first time in my life that I am here in Salt Lake City to attend general conference. I hope you will remember our first acquaintance in the autumn of 1946 in Langen, Germany. You and I will never forget the remarkable days following the Second World War. We will never forget your help for the refugees in those sad days. Now, forty-four years have gone, and we have both grown older. I wish you happiness and the blessings of the Lord all the days of your life and send you all my love.”
If President Benson were here at the pulpit at this, the conclusion of the final session of this glorious conference, he would extend to you his love, his admonitions, and his blessing. May I, with President Benson’s own words, provide you his counsel:
“Let us be valiant in our testimony of Jesus all the days of our lives” (Come unto Christ [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1983], p. 16).
“His word is one of the most valuable gifts He has given us. I urge you to recommit yourselves to a study of the scriptures. Immerse yourselves in them daily so you will have the power of the Spirit to attend you. … Read them in your families and teach your children to love and treasure them” (“The Power of the Word,” Ensign, May 1986, p. 82).
“It is soul-satisfying to know that God is mindful of us and ready to respond when we place our trust in Him and do that which is right. There is no place for fear among men and women who place their trust in the Almighty and who do not hesitate to humble themselves in seeking divine guidance through prayer. Though persecutions arise, though reverses come, in prayer we can find reassurance, for God will speak peace to the soul. That peace, that spirit of serenity, is life’s greatest blessing” (“Pray Always,” Ensign, Feb. 1990, p. 5).
He continues: “I am getting older and less vigorous and am so grateful for your prayers and for the support of my younger Brethren. I thank the Lord for renewing my body from time to time so that I can still help build His kingdom. … God willing, I intend to spend all my remaining days in that glorious effort” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1988, p. 5; or Ensign, Nov. 1988, p. 6).
President Benson is a man of love, and this love he would have me extend to you in his behalf. He has a beautiful voice and has often sung the melodic strains of a favorite hymn:
God be with you till we meet again;
By his counsels guide, uphold you;
With his sheep securely fold you.
God be with you till we meet again.
God be with you till we meet again;
When life’s perils thick confound you,
Put his arms unfailing round you.
God be with you till we meet again.
[Hymns, 1985, no. 152]
To the membership of the Church and to God’s children everywhere, our prophet, President Ezra Taft Benson, conveys to you the tender feelings of his heart, his gratitude for your prayers, and his abiding love. God be with you, brothers and sisters, till we meet again, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Yvette gets up at 4:00 A.M. every day to study for school, which starts at 7:00 A.M.. Once, getting good grades seemed impossible to her. “When I used to study, I was never able to remember and understand the things I was studying,” she said. “When I had tests, I’d get very nervous and not remember anything. My father told me that before I study and before taking tests, I should pray. When I follow his advice, I always do better. Before I started praying about my studies, I was never one of the better students in my class, but now I’m in third or fourth place in the whole school.”

Nephi stated that he had “been born of goodly parents” (1 Ne. 1:1). I echo his same words, for I too was born of goodly parents—a father who was a faithful Latter-day Saint who honored his priesthood and a loving mother who died when I was a young child, leaving my father with six children. My father remarried a widow with nine children, thus giving me in all five brothers and nine sisters. I am grateful for my second mother, who loved me as one of her own and who was an example to me. I thank my Father in Heaven for all of my brothers and sisters, who have loved and supported me and who also love the gospel and the Lord. It has now been 54 years since the Lunt-Taylor family was joined together, and even though our parents are gone, we feel unity and love for each other. I also have felt the love and support of grandparents, uncles and aunts, and other relatives.

When the day finally came to return to the hill, Joseph went alone. Without Alvin, he was unsure if the Lord would trust him with the plates. But he thought he could keep every commandment the Lord had given him, as his brother had counseled. Moroni’s instructions for retrieving the plates were clear. “You must take them into your hands and go straight to the house without delay,” the angel had said, “and lock them up.”30

At the hill, Joseph pried up the rock, reached into the stone box, and lifted out the plates. A thought then crossed his mind: the other items in the box were valuable and ought to be hidden before he went home. He set the plates down and turned to cover the box. But when he returned to the plates, they were gone. Alarmed, he fell to his knees and pleaded to know where they were.

Moroni appeared and told Joseph that he had failed to follow directions again. Not only had he set the plates down before safely securing them, he had also let them out of his sight. As willing as the young seer was to do the Lord’s work, he was not yet able to protect the ancient record.

Joseph was disappointed in himself, but Moroni instructed him to return for the plates the following year. He also taught him more about the Lord’s plan for the kingdom of God and the great work beginning to roll forth.

Still, after the angel left, Joseph slunk down the hill, worried what his family would think when he came home empty handed.31 When he stepped inside the house, they were waiting for him. His father asked at once if he had the plates.

“No,” he said. “I could not get them.”

“Did you see them?”

“I saw them but could not take them.”

“I would have taken them,” Joseph Sr. said, “if I had been in your place.”

“You do not know what you say,” Joseph said. “I could not get them, for the angel of the Lord would not let me.”32

It always seemed to take a long time for my senior companion and me to do our home teaching. After we had made our visits, he would park his car on one of the shady, peaceful streets that are common in Carrasco, Uruguay. Then he would talk to me about his childhood and about the challenges of growing up as the son of a widow. And—just by coincidence—he would always talk about the mission he had served when he was young. He spoke of that experience with great emotion.
The year was 1968, and my companion was William N. Jones, then president of the Uruguay-Paraguay Mission.
Did President Jones realize that I, like thousands of other young people in Uruguay, was struggling to find direction in a sea of doubt? Political tensions were strong in the country, and I was confused about the role I should play in the political changes going on around me.
Nevertheless, there, in the shade of eucalyptus trees, my companion would speak to me so calmly and so convincingly that, for the moment at least, my mind would clear. In a most natural way, he invited me to plan my life. And whenever he saw me at church, he would give me a big hug and ask, “How is my future missionary?”
Often I would respond, mentally, Me? A missionary? I couldn’t project my life that far into the future. And as for the Book of Mormon, I accepted that the book was true—but only for historical reasons. I did not have a real testimony of it. President Jones had encouraged me to read the book. He had even written an inscription in my copy—“May the light within you shine even brighter.” But as the months passed, the shiny leather covers stayed closed.
Somehow, in spite of conflicting feelings, I decided to go on a mission. Once I had made the decision, I was elated, almost euphoric. But when I told my nonmember mother, she found the idea disagreeable. “I have lost you as a son,” she said, with great pain on her face.
In spite of my mother’s reaction, I had many peaceful Sundays and many quiet, confidential talks with Bishop Calvar. “Look,” he said one day. “Here are the keys to the church. Find a little room somewhere and get close to the Lord.”
Day after day after that, I would stop at his house and pick up the keys. I would stay at church for four or five hours, reading the Book of Mormon and other scriptures. I also fasted for the purpose of gaining a testimony of the book.
The bishop knew about the fasting, and he did not miss an opportunity to instruct me about the close relationship between the body and the spirit. He explained the importance of the Word of Wisdom and taught me how to seek personal revelation. I will never forget his teachings.
The hours I spent in that classroom at the church will always be part of my life. I cannot specify any particular hour or day when my testimony came; it was a gradual process. But slowly, each story in the Book of Mormon became my own personal spiritual feast.
Often, I felt as though transported from the cold metal chair on which I sat, or from the floor on which I knelt, to the ancient days of the Nephites and the Lamanites. I did not read King Benjamin’s sermon—I lived it. I imagined that I lay on the grass, surrounded by Nephite tents, watching people who had come to hear their aging leader. His speech answered many of my longstanding questions about the role of government, good leadership, personal worthiness, and the nature of true service.
From the beginning I had believed that the promise of Moroni would be fulfilled. But I had expected it to happen suddenly, as it had for others I knew. But though it came gradually, it came powerfully. I knew! I knew!
I left for the mission field surrounded by the love of Church members, as well as that of some of my family. My family didn’t quite understand what I was doing, but most believed it was something good.
How grateful I am to the Lord for that time of challenge! How grateful I am for the opportunity I had to represent the Lord Jesus Christ! During my mission, I bore my testimony of him and of the Book of Mormon often—a testimony which I had gained slowly, but undeniably, one conversation, one prayer, one page at a time.

When I was a kid, I really struggled with reading and writing. My mom tried to help and found different resources for me, but I still struggled, no matter how hard I tried. And then we found out that I had a learning disability that made it difficult for me to learn in the way other people do.
I had teachers who told me to just give up on reading and writing and to focus on things I could do. But my parents knew that I loved stories, and they felt it was important to help me. So, instead of dismissing reading and writing, my parents chose to foster my love of stories in different ways—especially through audiobooks and reading and writing exercises.
But I continued to struggle through middle school and high school.
When I decided to serve a mission, one of the most difficult things was reading the Book of Mormon and keeping a journal. It took me an entire hour to read just one page of the scriptures. Since I had never been great at writing, I wondered how I would be able to effectively document in my journal all the wonderful experiences I would have as a missionary.
But I kept trying and praying for the Lord’s help.
As time went by, I saw small changes. By the end of my mission, I was able to read better than I ever had in my life. And as I kept attempting to write in my journal, I suddenly learned that I actually enjoyed writing. When I finished my mission, I had filled five journals.
This experience taught me that when we turn to the Lord in our efforts, He can truly bring about miracles in our lives.
Sister Michelle D. Craig, former First Counselor in the Young Women General Presidency, taught:
“With Christ’s help, we can do all things. The scriptures promise that we will ‘find grace to help in time of need’ [Hebrews 4:16].
“The surprising truth is that our weaknesses can be a blessing when they humble us and turn us to Christ. Discontent becomes divine when we humbly approach Jesus Christ with our want, rather than hold back in self-pity.
“In fact, Jesus’s miracles often begin with a recognition of want, need, failure, or inadequacy. Remember the loaves and the fishes? … The disciples … didn’t have enough food, but they gave what they had to Jesus, and then He provided the miracle.”1
When I came home from my mission, I wondered if I would be capable of attending university. Because of my learning disability, I hadn’t planned on it when I was younger.
But since Heavenly Father had helped me during my mission, I had confidence that I could attend university and be successful. I went to school and not only became better at reading and writing but also began learning two other languages and wrote a novel. I am now pursuing a PhD in literature and history—something I never would have imagined for myself.
The prophet Jacob taught, “The Lord God showeth us our weakness that we may know that it is by his grace, and his great condescensions unto the children of men, that we have power to do these things” (Jacob 4:7).
Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles also taught that “the enabling and strengthening aspect of the Atonement [of Jesus Christ].” 2
Throughout my life, Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ have helped me take my fear of reading and writing and turn it into one of my greatest joys and strengths. I’ve learned that through our efforts to do better and to repent in moments when we make mistakes or struggle with our weaknesses, Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ can strengthen us to become more and do more than we ever thought possible.
Brother Bradley R. Wilcox, Second Counselor in the Young Men General Presidency, has taught:
“The grace of Christ is sufficient—sufficient to cover our debt, sufficient to transform us, and sufficient to help us as long as that transformation process takes. …
“… Don’t quit. Keep trying. Don’t look for escapes and excuses. Look for the Lord and His perfect strength. Don’t search for someone to blame. Search for someone to help you. Seek Christ, and, as you do, I promise you will feel the enabling power we call His amazing grace.”3
It can be easy to feel like giving up when we have tried over and over again to become better at something. From difficulties with sin to simply feeling like we aren’t good enough, the world is full of challenges that can test our strength and dampen our courage. And often, overcoming those challenges takes more time and patience than we expect.
But Jesus Christ can strengthen us and assist us in our unique challenges. I know He can because I have experienced it. It took my whole life up until my mission to finally overcome a major weakness—years and years of struggle and discouragement. But Christ was always there to support me, comfort me, and offer me joy along the journey.
And I know He is there for you too.

The next year we enrolled in junior high school. But the building could not accommodate all the students, and so our class of the seventh grade was sent back to the Hamilton School. We were insulted. We were furious. We’d spent six unhappy years in that building, and we felt we deserved something better. The boys of the class all met after school. We decided we wouldn’t tolerate this kind of treatment. We’d go on strike.
The next day we did not show up. But we had no place to go. We couldn’t stay home, because our mothers would ask questions. We didn’t think of going downtown to a show. We had no money for that. We didn’t think of going to the park. We were afraid we might be seen by the truant officer. We didn’t think of going out behind the school fence and telling shady stories because we didn’t know any. We’d never heard of such things as drugs or anything of the kind. We just wandered about and wasted the day.
The next morning, the principal, Mr. Stearns, was at the front door of the school to greet us. His demeanor matched his name. He said some pretty straightforward things and then told us that we could not come back to school until we brought a note from our parents. Striking, he said, was not the way to settle a problem. We were expected to be responsible citizens, and if we had a complaint, we could come to the principal’s office and discuss it.
There was only one thing to do, and that was to go home and get the note. I remember walking sheepishly into the house. My mother asked what was wrong. I told her. I said I needed a note. She wrote one. It was very brief. It was the most stinging rebuke she ever gave me. It read as follows:
“Dear Mr. Stearns,
“Please excuse Gordon’s absence yesterday. His action was simply an impulse to follow the crowd.”
She signed it and handed it to me.
I walked back over to school and got there about the same time a few other boys did. We all handed our notes to Mr. Stearns. I do not know whether he read them, but I have never forgotten my mother’s note. Though I had been an active party to the action we had taken, I resolved then and there that I would make my own decisions on the basis of my standards. I would not be pushed in one direction or another by those around me.
That decision has blessed my life many times. It has kept me from doing some things which could at worst have resulted in serious injury and trouble, and at the best would have cost me my self-respect.

It wasn’t until the end of my eighth grade year that I realized I was very different from my classmates and even my best friends, who were nonmembers. I was faced with a situation that really bothered me. In class we were debating some controversial topics, including abortion. When I shared my thoughts, I was surprised to see my moral values ripped to pieces. Something I feel is so precious—physical intimacy, something that should be reserved for marriage—was simply a fun pastime to other people. I walked out of the classroom that day knowing that things were going to be very different.

In the same class, I was faced with another moment that would force me to act on all of the things I had been taught since Primary. My teacher was in the front of the class, talking about a snippet of a movie we were about to watch. Some of my classmates suggested that we watch the whole movie. My teacher shook her head and nonchalantly explained that she couldn’t because the movie had a mature rating. I was stunned when I first heard this. I never thought this would happen.

I sat in my chair, thinking about what I should do. A thought kept coming into my head: We have been asked not to watch offensive movies. I tried to rationalize that because I was in school, the part of the movie we were going to watch would be appropriate. But the thought of not watching offensive movies trumped my rationalizations.

I calmly raised my hand, and in front of my whole class, I asked to sit outside of class while the movie played. I felt everyone’s eyes on me as I pushed in my chair and grabbed my book. I saw the looks on their faces; they simply didn’t understand.

While sitting in the hallway, I felt very happy. I knew I had done the right thing, no matter what my peers or teacher said. I felt stronger too. I knew I didn’t have to watch an inappropriate movie clip just because my teacher had presented it to us.

Since then, I have often thought about the Mormonad hanging up in my room. It reads, “Adversity Can Make You Strong.” I believe that when we are faced with moments of adversity and we stand up to them, we are made stronger than if we had sat down and let them happen.

This is an inner strength that is found through our Savior. If we look to Him in our times of difficulty, we will be made strong. Our faith in Him can help us face adversity unashamed. We must “be strong and of a good courage” (Joshua 1:9) and look to our Heavenly Father and our Savior for everything; with all that, our adversities will make us stronger.

The girls in the Salt Lake East Millcreek Fourth Ward kept track of their acts of charity in a jelly bean jar. Each week the girls put a jelly bean into the jar for each act of service they had been involved in that week. As the jar filled with the sweets, the girls were reminded of the sweetness of service. When the jar was full, the girls selected a special family and presented the jar to them, explaining what the filled jar meant—each jelly bean represented a charitable act.

There was a time in my life when I fantasized about how valiant I would have been had I been born at another time. If I had been born of Adam, I would have saved Cain. If I had been born of Noah, the ark would have been larger in order to carry all of my converts. If I had been with Moses, we could have cut the forty years in the wilderness down to twenty. If I had been with Joseph Smith, we would still be in Jackson County living the united order. I had some wonderful fantasies. One time, as I was winning another imaginary battle, a question was placed in my mind. “You say you would have died for the Prophet Joseph Smith. What are you doing for President Spencer W. Kimball?” I was crushed by the answer to that question and made up my mind things were going to be different.

First, from my own family, I mention a touching experience that has always been an inspiration to me.
My maternal great-grandparents Gibson and Cecelia Sharp Condie lived in Clackmannan, Scotland. Their families were engaged in coal mining. They were at peace with the world, surrounded by relatives and friends, and were housed in fairly comfortable quarters in a land they loved. Then they listened to the message of the missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and, to the depths of their very souls, were converted. They heard the call to gather to Zion and knew they must answer that call.
Sometime around 1848, they sold their possessions and prepared for the hazardous voyage across the mighty Atlantic Ocean. With five small children, they boarded a sailing vessel, all their worldly possessions in one tiny trunk. They traveled 3,000 miles (4,800 km) across the waters—eight long, weary weeks on a treacherous sea, watching and waiting, with poor food, poor water, and no help beyond the length and breadth of that small ship.
In the midst of this soul-trying situation, one of their young sons became ill. There were no doctors, no stores at which they might purchase medicine to ease his suffering. They watched, they prayed, they waited, and they wept as day by day his condition deteriorated. When his eyes were at last closed in death, their hearts were torn asunder. To add to their grief, the laws of the sea must be obeyed. Wrapped in a canvas weighed down with iron, the little body was consigned to a watery grave. As they sailed away, only those parents knew the crushing blow dealt to wounded hearts. However, with a faith born of their deep conviction of the truth and their love of the Lord, Gibson and Cecelia held on. They were comforted by the words of the Lord: “In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.”
How grateful I am for ancestors who had the faith to leave hearth and home and to journey to Zion, who made sacrifices I can scarcely imagine. I thank my Heavenly Father for the example of faith, of courage, and of determination Gibson and Cecelia Sharp Condie provide for me and for all their posterity.

When I was 10 years old, my family moved from Denmark to Canada. We had lived there only a little while when two sisters who lived across the street from our new home invited me and my 12-year-old brother, Poul, to take a bus ride with them to see the city.
Poul and I were excited to go. My mother wasn’t sure about the idea, but she finally gave in. Mother gave the two girls the money for our bus ride. She asked them to look after us because my brother and I didn’t speak English yet. The girls promised they would take good care of us.
We all got on the bus and started the ride. After a while the bus stopped, and the girls motioned for us to get off. We followed them as we all started walking around the city.
Then suddenly the two girls started running in different directions! We tried to follow them, but they disappeared around unfamiliar corners. At first we thought they were just playing a trick on us and would soon come back. But after a while we knew we were lost and on our own.
“Should we ask someone for directions?” I asked Poul.
“We can’t speak English, and we don’t know our address,” he answered.
“Let’s call Mother,” I suggested, pointing to a nearby phone booth.
“We have no money, and we don’t know our phone number,” Poul said.
I started to cry. Poul put his arm around me. “Stay calm, Anne-Mette. Let’s say a prayer.”
We huddled together and asked Heavenly Father to help us find our way back home.
After the prayer Poul pointed down a street. “I feel we need to go this way,” he said.
I started to cry again. How could he know which way to go?
Poul comforted me again. “You need to have faith that we will be guided,” he said.
When he said that, a feeling of peace came over me. I had the thought that I needed to have faith and let my brother guide me.
After walking a long time, we came to a pond. “Do you remember this pond?” Poul asked. “We drove past it on our way from the airport to our new home!”
I felt better hearing the excitement in his voice. We sat down by the pond and said another prayer.
Suddenly Poul looked into the distance. “Do you see that?” he shouted. He got up and started running, and I jumped up to follow him.
“What do you see?” I called.
“It’s the Laundromat sign near our house!”
We followed the sign to our street, and soon we could see our mother standing outside the house. We ran to her and hugged her.
When we went inside, Mother said, “When I saw the two girls come home, I went over to ask where you were. Their mother was not very nice. She said we are foreigners and we should go back where we came from.”
Mother put her arms around us both. “I want you to know that not everyone here feels that way. We will meet many people who will welcome us and be our friends. Those girls left you alone today, but I’m glad you remembered that Heavenly Father will never leave you alone.”
Then we knelt down and thanked Heavenly Father for guiding us safely home.