Gospel Story Finder

One of the touching stories from my time as a corrections officer is when I saw a mother reunite with her children. She hadn’t seen her children for four or five years. You could see in the eyes of the children the tears and the hurt from the years of being apart. The reunion was overwhelming, but as a corrections officer, you don’t show emotion. I found that really hard. I had to actually look away to compose myself and get myself together. Being a mother myself, I couldn’t imagine being away from my children for years and not be able to see them, talk to them, or even share how I’m feeling with them.

“Twelve times twelve is … one hundred forty-four!” I shouted.
“Great job, Chakell!” Mrs. Good said. My whole class cheered. I was the first student to pass off all my multiplication tables.
I grinned as I walked back to my desk. I’d practiced with Dad all week and was feeling proud of myself. But then I saw another student stand up—Jack.
“OK, Jack. Let’s see if you can pass off your twelves today too,” Mrs. Good said.
My friend Jack was really smart. We were always trying to beat each other at everything. Usually we just tied.
Jack passed off his twelves perfectly. “We’re still tied!” he said as he sat down.
“Yeah,” I said. “Good job.” I was happy for him, but I felt like something was squishing my heart. I frowned and stared at the prickly cactus growing by the window.
Passing off my twelves didn’t feel very special anymore.
That afternoon, Mrs. Good pulled out a a plastic circle with pegs on it. “This is a loom,” she explained. “We’re going to use it to make scarves.”
Jack grinned at me. “I bet I can finish my scarf before you.”
“Not if I beat you first!”
We both laughed. I was excited. This was something I could be the best at.
The next day, I brought pink and purple yarn to school. Mrs. Good helped us wrap our yarn around our looms. I grabbed my red hook, ready to start.
At first, making the scarf was easy. I used my hook just like Mrs. Good showed us. But soon, it got harder. I couldn’t remember what to do next.
Maybe I should ask for help, I thought.
But then I glanced at Jack. His black and red stitches already filled his loom. He was winning!
Why is this so hard for me? My yarn looked like tangled spaghetti.
That night, I told Mom about my scarf. “I don’t know why it’s so hard,” I wailed. “If I have to ask for help, that must mean I’m not very smart. Jack never has to ask for help, and now he’s going to win!” My eyes got watery.
Mom pulled me into a warm hug. “Asking for help doesn’t mean you’re not smart. Everyone needs a little help sometimes.”
“Everyone?” I asked.
“Everyone,” Mom said. “We pray to ask Heavenly Father for help all the time.”
I hadn’t thought of that.
The next day, it was craft time again. I stared at my loom. I looked at Jack. His scarf was twice as long as it was yesterday. I took a deep breath and walked over to my teacher.
“Mrs. Good, can you please help me with my scarf? I’m not very good at it,” I said.
Mrs. Good smiled at me. “Of course! Learning new things takes practice. You just aren’t good at it yet.”
Soon, after Mrs. Good gave me a few pointers, my yarn was finally turning into a scarf!
Jack finished his scarf a few days later. He showed me his black and red masterpiece. I showed him my pink and purple work in progress.
“Your scarf is looking great,” Jack said.
I grinned at him. “Yours too. You’re really good at this. And you beat me!”
He laughed. “I did, but I can’t ever keep up with how many books you read.”
With a smile on my face, I picked up my hook and got back to work.

May I express thanks to the nimble fingers that have produced thousands of beautiful blankets and a special thanks to the not-so-nimble fingers of our more senior sisters who have also crafted the much-needed quilts. One 92-year-old great-grandmother has produced several hundred blankets. In her case, both the creator and receiver have been blessed. As her son admired her handiwork, she asked, “Do you think anyone will ever use one of my blankets?” A letter from a young mother in Louisiana answers that question:

“I live in Louisiana, and I go to a local health unit for my children. While I was there, they gave me some outfits, diapers, wipes, and two beautiful baby blankets. One blanket has a yellow backing with footprints and handprints on the front, and the other blanket is tan with zebras. They are beautiful. My four-year-old loves the zebra one, and of course my seven-month-old can’t say much. I just wanted to say thank you to you and your Church members for your generosity. God bless you and your family.”

I’m a farm boy. My family raised cotton, alfalfa, and grains. As a boy I learned that growing cotton requires a certain type of weather. When the weather is too wet and cool, cotton plants grow very fast and spend all their energy growing branches and leaves. But if the weather is hot and the cotton plant has just enough moisture, the cotton balls will grow.
One year when I was a teenager, it had been quite a cool spring with lots of rain. Dad could see that the cotton plants were growing very fast and that he would have a problem meeting his financial obligations if the weather continued in the same pattern. He went to the bank and borrowed some money. Then he took me with him to our bishop’s office and prepaid his tithing for that year, even though it looked like the crop might not be very good. Immediately after he paid his tithing, the weather changed and got very hot. We had a large crop, and Dad met all his financial obligations. Needless to say, I was born of goodly parents who taught me to live the gospel by example.

I was born in Spain and lived there for eight years. We didn’t go to church a lot, so I wasn’t baptized when I turned eight, but I really wanted to be. One day I asked my parents why we weren’t going to church anymore and why I wasn’t baptized.
As I explained to them my desire to be baptized, it touched their hearts, and we started going to church again. It felt good. My mom was such a good example and an inspiration to me. She had a strong testimony and often read the scriptures.
Later on, we moved to Venezuela, where my dad is from. We lived there for two years, and because of the difficulties in the economy, we faced a lot of challenges. But there were good things too. I loved the food, and I had family there who were anxious to meet me. They were such humble people, and we all went to church together and felt the Spirit.
Even though we were going to church and I could feel the Spirit, I knew my family and I were missing something. I really felt that we needed to be sealed as an eternal family. One Sunday morning, the bishop invited everyone in the congregation to read the Book of Mormon before the end of the year. I knew this would help my parents and me more fully live the gospel of the Lord. Little by little, as we read the Book of Mormon, the Savior started giving us more knowledge and blessings, and we continued to read the scriptures regularly.
Soon I got baptized. I could really feel the Spirit in my life, and my parents did too. My testimony started growing more. We moved to Florida, USA, and we had to make a lot of changes and sacrifices again, just like when we left Spain. But our testimonies were growing stronger. We went to church every week and kept reading the scriptures.
After a lot of effort and a lot of reading the scriptures, praying, and choosing the right, we wanted to get sealed as an eternal family. We talked to our bishop, and even though it took some time, the day finally arrived. We were so excited to go inside the temple.
I got to do baptisms while I waited for my parents to complete the temple work for themselves. I felt like I was getting baptized again. I was really happy I could help people beyond the veil. Now my family and I go to the temple every week. I regularly do baptisms because I love helping there. I am so glad I got to be sealed in the temple to my parents for eternity and have the opportunity to live forever with them.

Tourists inundate the center of Philadelphia during July, particularly on Independence Day.
What better place, then, for missionaries to contact people who would be interested in knowing more about the Church? And one ideal location would surely be the Independence National Historic Park, across the street from the Liberty Bell display and near Independence Hall, site of the Constitutional Convention.
Using heavy cardboard backing obtained from a local art club display, missionaries and members of the North Philadelphia Branch built a three-sided display, eight feet high and nine and one half feet wide, and obtained Park Service permission to display it near a large fountain in the park.
The triangular display featured displays on genealogy, America’s 200-year history, and America’s 2,000-year history. It featured a screen on which films could be shown.
But on the fourth day, a wind-and-rain storm snapped the frame.
Instead of abandoning the project, the missionaries were encouraged by members’ efforts to keep the display alive. A new display, including an additional presentation on family home evening, was built, this time with plywood. Brother Arthur Abraham, a counselor in the branch presidency, donated a trailer so the proselyting aid could be moved.
While using the new display on the first day, the elders taught 17 discussions. On July 4, they served as an information booth for Independence Day visitors. Their records show they talked to more than 1,000 people, and at least one person will be baptized as a result.
“The project caught the members’ attention when they saw that the missionaries were sincere in doing a good job,” Cheryl Ann Murdock, a young adult in the branch, said. “They became excited about missionary work, and the Church received a great deal of exposure to the public. We were proud to see the Church represented in the park.”

I was in my fifth year of studying humanities when I received a lesson about the worth of an example. Every time our teacher entered the classroom, he found a picture of himself—drawn by some of my classmates—on the blackboard. And every time, the professor would ask us to wipe away the drawing. However, he never said anything else about it.
I was very impressed with our professor’s wise and humble way of being, and I became curious about which church he belonged to. I found out that he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
I decided to receive the missionary discussions, and I was baptized on September 10, 2000. The man who had shown me an example through his way of living turned out to be my branch president.

About 15 years ago my doctor told me that I had to make a lifestyle change: “Start being more active, or you won’t live very long,” he told me. I took his warning seriously. I decided to start running.
To make this lifestyle change successful, I needed to keep the long view in mind because if I only had the short view, I wasn’t going to get very far.
My long view is a recurring goal to run one marathon each year. This goal helps me get up and run every day because I know that on one certain day next year, I’m going to have to run 26.2 miles (42.2 kilometers). I stay disciplined to train and meet my short-term goals each week because I know they’re getting me ready for race day.
Sometimes there are things that try and stop me, like the weather. Maybe it’s too hot or too cold outside, or maybe it’s raining. So I have to run inside on the treadmill, even though I significantly prefer to run on the street. Injuries also try and stop me. Maybe I didn’t stretch properly before my run, so I tweak my hamstring. Or maybe it’s not necessarily my fault that I got injured. But no matter how it happens, I can’t give up because I know I’m going to be running a marathon next year. So I make alterations to my training. I recover and get back out running.
Running has taught me a lot about the gospel. We all have a long-term gospel goal to endure to the end and achieve exaltation. But we set short-term goals like taking the sacrament at church each week that help us get there. We get spiritually injured when we make mistakes. But we don’t give up. We repent, and we get back out there. The only way we can achieve our long-term goal is by making little changes all along the way to help us stay on track.
For over a decade, I worked as the senior vice president for Walmart in Brazil. My family was financially stable, I enjoyed my job, and life was good. But the job was demanding. It required me to travel a lot, which was interfering with our family and with my Church service. After 11 or 12 years, it was becoming too much.
My wife and I counseled together and proposed that I leave this job. We talked it through with our children, and together we said, “It’s time for us to make a change.”
When I quit, I plummeted from senior vice president to unemployed. It took nearly a year to find and accept another job. When I finally took a position with a small real estate company in the United States, I felt good about it. This job would let me dedicate more time to the things that really mattered.
But other people told me I was crazy. Why leave a stable job for a real estate company no one has even heard of? And move halfway across the world to the United States?
They were right that this was a huge change we were choosing to make. But they were wrong that it was a poor choice.
It took a lot of faith for us to switch jobs and move to a new country, but the Lord took care of us. And I had more time to fulfill my responsibilities as a husband, father, and ward member.
I believe change is mandatory for achieving our potential. We will never become what Heavenly Father wants us to become if we’re stationary in our lives. And we become like Him as we make deliberate changes in faith.
Another big change that happened in my family was when my youngest brother died in a car accident. We didn’t choose or want that for him or for us, and it’s still painful, even after 10 years. Forced change is never easy.
But the changes we don’t choose can also become opportunities to build our faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. It’s easy to stay faithful when things are going our way. But can we keep the faith and keep going when the changes don’t fall in our favor?
Divorce, infertility, unemployment, illness, and other painful experiences like these are not experiences we hope and plan for. They can make us feel like life is happening outside of our control. But that’s not entirely true—amid your unsolicited circumstances, there are still things you can control. You can set small goals, even just the goal to get through one more day. You can do it! You can bear all things with patience! (see Alma 38:4).
Joseph of Egypt is a perfect example of this. His life was full of forced change—he lost his freedom twice! (Once when his brothers sold him into slavery, and again when Potiphar put him in jail.) But Joseph didn’t break down because his circumstances were undesirable or unplanned for. He adapted and grew through his experiences. And in the end, he saved his family and an entire nation. The Lord was molding him and preparing him the entire way (see Genesis 37–46).
It’s hard to be patient when forced change upsets your plan, but remember that the long-term goal is to achieve exaltation. Heavenly Father knows what we need to get there: “Ye are not able to abide the presence of God now, neither the ministering of angels; wherefore, continue in patience until ye are perfected” (Doctrine and Covenants 67:13).
Heavenly Father loves you and wants you to succeed. He wants you to be happy. And He’s laid out a plan for you to achieve both of those things.
When I see mortality for what it’s meant to be—training—the changes in my life become more purposeful. Change helps me achieve my long-term goal, which is to become like my Savior Jesus Christ. I know Heavenly Father shares the same long-term goal for me and for all His children. Just like my doctor knew I needed to change something for the sake of my health, God clearly sees the changes we need to make to become like Him. He supports us and supplies resources like the scriptures, a local congregation, and a living prophet to help us in our quest to change for the better.
On the hardest days—those days when it’s hard to get out of bed and put on your running shoes, when you know you need to repent, or when you are struggling with some other unexpected change—we remind ourselves of God’s infinite love and of His desire for us to be even happier than we are right now.
That reminder gives us the strength to make the changes the Spirit prompts us to make. And it helps us trust that the unexpected changes we’re forced to make are part of His plan for our greatest happiness.

Lily is also able to complete many Personal Progress experiences and projects without adapting them. For example, one of the value experiences for Good Works is to spend three hours serving outside of your family. For this project, Lily and her mom cleaned up a neighbor’s yard. After completing the project, Lily felt stronger. She says, “It was hard work and I was happy when it was over, but I am glad that I did it!”

Three of the interns had already told me that I was well enough to leave the next day—the day before Christmas—and then come back to the hospital after a short holiday respite. I was sure that I would get final confirmation of this pleasant news from Dr. Sherman, department chief of staff, when he made his usual rounds later in the day. He finally appeared and stopped at my bedside. His examination was routine; in fact, it was too routine.
“You’re doing fine, just fine,” he assured me, and turned to leave the room. But he had nothing to say about me leaving the hospital for Christmas.
Frightened, I asked, “I’ll be leaving tomorrow for a few days, won’t I?”
The only indication of his surprise was the way his gray eyebrows lifted themselves a little higher on his forehead. He slowly answered, “I’m sorry, son, but you’re not going anywhere for at least two more weeks.”
His voice was kind, but it was also firm and definite. I lay there speechless as he left the room. The one thing I had been holding to for the last few days was gone. My one firm hope had just been stepped on, had just been crushed.
It wasn’t fair—none of it was fair! I had been on my mission for over a year when it happened. I was happy in my calling; teaching the gospel in New York City was challenging and exciting. And lately it had begun to be productive—our labors were being blessed with success. And I had been blessed with good health—at least I had been healthy until two weeks earlier when my right arm suddenly became paralyzed for a few minutes and my speech left me for more than two hours.
No one knew what had happened to me, so I had been brought to this hospital in the New York neighborhood to find out. No one at the hospital seemed to know for sure just what had happened to me either. I had overheard whispered conversations about strokes, seizures, tumors, and syndromes. Dozens of inconclusive tests had left me exhausted and more ill than when I had entered the hospital. It just wasn’t fair for me to be wasting my time in the hospital when there were investigators to be taught; it wasn’t fair that the mysterious affliction had appeared in the first place.
I called my folks in Utah almost every night, assuring them that I was all right and that there was nothing to worry about. My mother wanted to fly out and be with me, but I knew that they couldn’t afford it and that I would feel even more self-conscious about my hospital stay if she were to come. So I joked about my mysterious sickness over the phone and carefully acted the role of nonchalant victim so they would not worry about me so much.
The small hospital in the Bronx, famous for its work with neurological problems, had to be the most desolate and cheerless place on earth; I was sure of it after spending just one night in the place. As the days became weeks, my hopes of leaving for the Christmas holidays had made my suffering bearable. Thoughts of Christmas excitement and activity alleviated the boredom and discomfort.
“You’re not going anywhere for at least two more weeks.” Dr. Sherman’s pronouncement stayed in my mind and filled it with a sense of nostalgia and finality. As a child, I would dream of Christmas for months ahead. As a young man, I found that my childish pleasures had been only partially replaced with a deeper appreciation of friends, family—and Jesus Christ.
I lay unmoving in the hospital bed for at least 15 minutes before I shifted position enough to reach the radio and turn it on; it had been my only pleasure and diversion in my lonely room since coming to the hospital. But even listening to it made my mood darken. My disappointment had been replaced with resentment and anger; I was totally miserable. I felt it within me, changing my personality from some corrupt inner well.
Still, I stubbornly listened to the radio, preferring it to the routine sounds from the corridor and the nearby kitchen. Every station seemed to play Christmas carols. Happy voices proclaimed joy to the world. Singers reminded me again and again that “there’s no place like home for the holidays.”
I wasn’t full of joy. I wasn’t home. I wouldn’t even be going home to my missionary and member friends here in New York. For me there would be no Christmas this year.
December 23 slowly passed and became December 24. Then it was Christmas Eve. The hospital was hushed and quiet. Many of the patients had been allowed to go home for Christmas. But not me, I was alone. I was lonely, small, and unimportant.
I glumly lay in bed, listening to the carols on the radio, mocking them in my mind, and fervently wishing that the night would quickly pass. Around 8:00 there was a knock at the door, and Ed Cazakoff, one of the recent converts I had helped teach, walked into the room. His arms were full of packages, and his face was covered with a big grin. He greeted me with a cheery “Merry Christmas,” put down the packages, and warmly shook my hand.
It was astonishing to see him away from his family tonight. This was not just Christmas Eve—it was Hannukah, a special family time in Judaism. There had been much family difficulty because of Ed’s conversion to Christianity and the restored gospel, and he spent as much time as possible with his family to reassure them of his continued love and loyalty.
Ed’s face was radiant as he talked with me that evening. His warmth and enthusiasm and vulnerability made him seem younger than his 24 years. He smiled continually as he talked about his Church work, his delight in the gospel, and his concern and love for our mutual friends and for his family. For several hours we talked, listened to the carols on the radio, and opened the gifts he had brought with him. Some were from him; others had been gathered and sent by other friends.
After he left, I thought about the hours he would now spend waiting for the subway and traveling home this wintry night. I looked around at the once bleak room. Holiday paper tumbled from the waste basket, there was a small stack of opened gifts on the solitary chair, and a row of red and white candy canes were fastened on the sides of my bed. But more than the room, I must have looked vastly different. My heart had been touched; his happiness and radiance had warmed my soul. I had been thinking only about momentary concerns when I should have been thanking God for the rich blessings I could enjoy forever.
This had been Ed’s first Christmas Eve, and he had given it to me. His sincerity and loving concern exemplified true Christianity. He had sacrificed for me—he had cared. He had been deeply aware of the significance of Christmas—I had been ignoring it. The pleasures I had lamented missing weren’t really important at all. They were, by themselves, artificial and shallow.
For the next several hours, I lay there in the darkness and listened to the radio carols with a humble awareness of their meaning. I thought of a night many years before in a land across the sea; I delighted in the life of the Child born that night and thrilled at the spirit of the approaching day. I peacefully fell asleep, grateful for the Christmas presents I had been given by two of my brothers.

For 18 months after obtaining the plates, however, Joseph struggled to translate the record because of harassment from locals, revolving scribes, and the loss of a portion of the manuscript. It was a frustrating and painful time for Joseph. (See Joseph Smith–History 1:58–62; Doctrine and Covenants 3.)
But everything changed in April 1829 with the arrival of a schoolteacher named Oliver Cowdery, who became Joseph’s full-time scribe. The translation of the Book of Mormon then accelerated at a rapid pace.
After spending much of his time during the fall of 1828 working his farm in Harmony, Pennsylvania, to provide for his family, Joseph turned his full attention in 1829 to the translation of the Book of Mormon. For a brief period, Joseph’s wife, Emma, and his brother Samuel acted as scribes. At the same time, Oliver Cowdery was boarding at the home of Joseph’s parents in New York.
Having heard about the plates and their translation, Oliver became intrigued and desired to know if these things were of God. “One night after he retired to bed he called upon the Lord to know if these things were so,” Joseph recorded, “and the Lord manifested to him that they were true.”2
Oliver immediately traveled the 140 miles (225 km) to Harmony to meet Joseph. Oliver was an answer to Joseph’s prayers. Two days after they met in April, the translation of the Book of Mormon resumed at a rapid pace, nearing completion in an astounding 60 to 65 estimated working days. The whole translation was complete by June 30.

A true story from Costa Rica.
“Whoa!” Ethan said. “Did you see that one?”
“Yeah, look at its cute little tail!” said Lily.
Boston looked up, but he only saw shadows.
“We’ve already seen three monkeys today!” Ethan said.
But Boston hadn’t seen any! His family was visiting a rainforest to see wild monkeys. But the monkeys were too far away for Boston to see.
Boston was blind. He could only see things very close to him. Usually, he didn’t mind being blind. He could still do lots of cool things. He could read Braille with his fingers and walk with his cane in the dark. And he could find people by listening to their voices.
But sometimes, Boston didn’t like being blind. Like today.
Boston sat on the ground and sighed. It’s not fair! he thought.
A few minutes later he had an idea. Heavenly Father, please help a monkey come close enough for me to see, Boston prayed in his mind.
Boston couldn’t see any monkeys yet. Then he heard a noise from far away.
“Did you hear that?” Boston asked. “I think it was a monkey!”
“I didn’t hear anything,” Ethan said.
“Neither did I,” said Dad. “You have good ears!”
Boston heard a monkey run through the bushes by the trail. He pointed toward the sound. “Over there!”
Then he heard another one, and another. Sometimes his family could see the monkeys once he pointed them out. But none of the monkeys got close enough for him to see.
Soon it was time to go home.
“I’m sorry you didn’t see any monkeys,” Mom said as they walked to the car.
Boston shrugged. “It’s OK. I wanted to see one, but I got to hear lots of them instead.” Then he thought about his prayer. “It kind of reminds me of the Holy Ghost.”
“What do you mean?” Mom asked.
“When I stopped to listen, I realized they were all around me. I could hear them even though I couldn’t see them. It’s just like how I can hear the Holy Ghost when I listen.”
“That’s a great lesson,” Mom said.
Boston heard something in the bushes next to him. Then something ran out onto the trail—right in front of him! It had reddish hair and a long tail. It stopped and looked right at him. Then it ran into the trees again.
A monkey! He got to see one after all!
Boston smiled. Being blind was hard sometimes. But today, it helped him learn about the Holy Ghost. And that was pretty cool.

I would like to explain what honoring the priesthood means to me. In this regard, I am like many other young men in the Church who are preparing to one day worthily enter the temple and to serve a mission.
I live in Tucson, Arizona, with my parents, my brother Stephen, my grandfather Juan, and my great-grandmother Maria. As a member of the Sonora Ward in the Tucson Arizona Stake, I have enjoyed many opportunities to magnify my callings in the Aaronic Priesthood. I have helped clean yards of the elderly and others unable to take care of their homes. I have also helped clean the church cemetery and ballpark. But what has helped the most in learning to honor my priesthood was an experience I had in helping my own family.
One summer my aunt and uncle left my four young cousins with my parents. I was asked to baby-sit them much of the time. During those months, I had the interesting experience of learning how to change diapers and fix lunches as well as figure out ways to keep my little cousins from getting into trouble. The first few days were hard on all of us, but by the end of the summer, we were all enjoying ourselves and doing well. I learned to appreciate what parents have to teach their children, and by the end of the summer, I felt a greater love for my cousins than I’d ever felt before.
I learned that one of the most important ways I can honor my priesthood is to obey the Lord’s commandments and to honor my parents. I once heard a speaker say, “If we love, we obey, for the Lord said, ‘If ye love me, keep my commandments’” (John 14:15). When I obey, I know that I am a worthy priesthood holder. The guidance that comes from my Heavenly Father is for my own good. He knows who I am and has a plan for me and for my salvation. I don’t always understand why I have to do certain things, but I know that there are eternal reasons for doing them.
There also have been times when my parents wouldn’t allow me to go places or do things I wanted to do. I have not always been happy about their decisions. But many times I have come to realize that they were right. For example, when I was younger, some of my friends were going to a “teen night” at a nightclub, and my parents wouldn’t let me go. I was upset and felt that my parents didn’t trust me. But after my bad feelings left, we talked about the temptations all around us and how my being at the nightclub would be opening the door to greater temptations. We also talked about my being worthy to pass the sacrament and about honoring my priesthood. I love my Heavenly Father and my parents, and I know that love and obedience go hand in hand.
I have been preparing myself to be worthy of the ordinances of the temple. One of the ways I have been doing this is by keeping myself morally clean. It is a major challenge in these times to be morally clean and respectful of ourselves and others. Some people think that being sexually active outside of marriage is acceptable, but the Lord has taught us that only by maintaining high moral standards will we be able to enjoy all the blessings he wants to give us. Being immoral is totally unacceptable to the Lord and to his church.
The pamphlet For the Strength of Youth gives simple guidelines that help teach us how to be worthy to one day enter the temple. My bishop challenged the youth of our ward to always keep this pamphlet with us. If he asked us to show it to him and we couldn’t, we would owe him a candy bar. I feel the pamphlet has helped us stay on the “strait and narrow path” (2 Ne. 31:18).
I began preparing for full-time missionary service when I was five years old. I remember going to church with my grandparents because my mom was not active and my dad wasn’t a member. One Sunday I came home and told my mom, “Next Sunday you have to go with me to church. My friend Juanito takes his mom and dad, and I don’t, so my friends are going to start thinking I don’t have a mom and dad.”
Well, when Sunday came, I had forgotten about it, and Mom wasn’t about to remind me. When she took me to my grandparents’ so they could take me to church, I reminded her that she said I could take her with me. She made some excuse and said she couldn’t go with me that Sunday—but maybe next Sunday. I know she said that so I wouldn’t bother her, and she probably figured I’d forget about it. But when Saturday came around, I reminded her that she had to go to church with me. I helped her pick out a nice dress to wear and took her to church that Sunday. She’s been going with me ever since.
We’ve come a long way since then. Shortly after my mom’s reactivation, we focused on converting my father. I know that missionaries in the field work in pairs, but in our home we formed a threesome: Mom, my brother Stephen, and myself. Dad didn’t have a chance! We used to talk about the children’s hymn we were going to sing in the car, and we kept reminding each other to bless our food and hold family prayer and set a good example. My dad did join the Church and is very active now. In March 1987, we were sealed as a family in the Arizona Temple in one of the greatest events of our lives. We are working hard on becoming an eternal family.
Besides working with my family, I know that I should keep the Word of Wisdom, because a full-time missionary needs to be physically fit as well as morally clean. I need to study the scriptures and attend seminary because it takes some ability to memorize discussions and scriptures and be prepared to teach the gospel. My parents have also taught me the importance of speaking more than one language because “every man shall hear the fulness of the gospel in his own … language” (D&C 90:11).
I think my greatest asset when I serve a mission will be my ability to make and keep friends. When you befriend someone, it is much easier to teach that person the gospel. I know that I need to prepare myself spiritually and physically by being obedient to my Heavenly Father and my parents so that I can have the Spirit as my constant companion. If we do these things, I know we can overcome the temptations of the world and honor our priesthood, serve missions, and enter the holy temple.

With hymnbooks in their hands, a group of bleary-eyed seminary students packed pillows and quilts with them. They were barely awake as they gathered at the church on an early Saturday morning. But with the first chords of hymn number one, “The Morning Breaks,” the seminary students from Pleasant Grove, Utah, started a marathon. It would take them more than 13 hours to complete. There was no running involved—just singing. Lots and lots of singing. The seminary students were attempting to sing every hymn in the hymnbook in a single day.
The idea started two years ago when Mike Laudie and his older brother Jim were waiting to be interviewed for temple recommends. They started playing the piano and singing hymns. “We just thought, Wouldn’t it be cool to sing all the hymns in one sitting,” said Mike. At that time, Jim organized and held the first hymn marathon at the Pleasant Grove seminary. Then, this year, Mike was on the seminary council and proposed that the seminary try it again.
First, the seminary council asked the 1,200 seminary students to vote on their favorite hymns. After every 20 hymns, the group would sing a hymn from their top 25 choices. The plan was to save the top-10 vote getters for the last hour of the marathon. Fortified with plenty of doughnuts and juice, they started singing. A few students like David Anson stayed the whole 13 hours. He said, “Music means so much to my life. It has touched me for good.” Others had to come and go as their work schedules allowed. With some talented accompanists spelling each other, the number of singers fluctuated throughout the day between a few dozen to nearly 200. Even if they had come earlier in the day, most who participated came back for the last hour.
The message of the hymns came across strongly for some. They felt the power of beautiful words combined with pleasing melodies. Tyson Peery noted one meaningful line. “There are a lot of hymns we don’t know. But when we sang, ‘There Is Sunshine in My Soul Today,’ one of the lines says, ‘And Jesus listening can hear, the songs I cannot sing.’ That really hit me.”
Another meaningful hymn to the group was “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief.” Brett Munden said, “I love that song because when I sing it I think of Joseph Smith in Carthage Jail. He asked John Taylor to sing that song for him. It’s my favorite hymn because it was Joseph’s favorite.”
For many, the hymn marathon became more than just an endurance feat. Sarah Overson said, “I thought of the hymn that says, ‘Angels above us are silent notes taking’ (see Hymns, no. 237). I know that God was pleased with us singing praises to Him all day long. Singing hymns is like praying. It was to show Heavenly Father that I was willing to sacrifice my time to ‘pray’ to Him. I want Him to know that I’m willing and trying to improve my habits and keep the commandments.”
These are the 10 hymns the Pleasant Grove seminary students voted as their favorites:
The Spirit of God
A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief
Praise to the Man
I Stand All Amazed
How Great Thou Art
If You Could Hie to Kolob
Called to Serve
True to the Faith
We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet
Come, Come, Ye Saints

Amanda puzzled over her patriarchal blessing. It said she would be a great influence on her children and grandchildren, but she was past childbearing years and had never married. Then she met Patrick, a pilot. They enjoyed listening to music and playing golf together. After a while, they got married.
Patrick’s first wife had died, with whom he had three daughters. Although they grieved the loss of their mother, they eventually warmed to Amanda’s love. Years passed.
One day, Patrick went flying and never returned. After weeks of searching, the plane was found in a nearby lake. Amanda realized that she was the only living parent Patrick’s daughters had left. She made an extra effort to support and communicate with them, especially through their grief.
Now she and her stepdaughters have a strong bond. They call her for advice and turn to her after a stressful day. With humility and gratitude, Amanda realizes that her patriarchal blessing is being fulfilled after all.

My dad is not a member of the Church. I love spending time with him, but it was hard to keep the Sabbath day holy when I was with him. I never wanted to hurt his feelings by not going to a movie or shopping with him on Sundays, so for a while I ignored the matter.
When I got a little older, I realized that what I was doing wasn’t right. I finally sat down and told my dad how I felt. Surprisingly, he didn’t mind. He was understanding enough to help me with the problem.
Talking to someone about your beliefs isn’t always easy, but it isn’t as scary as it seems. Let people know how you feel. For me, it worked out in the end.

In June of 1986 I drove my mother to the Cardston Alberta Temple so she could receive her endowment. I had already received my endowment, but my nonmember husband and I lived in a remote part of British Columbia, and I had allowed my recommend to expire. Therefore, I was able to walk with my mother to the recommend desk but could follow her no further. I went outside, leaned against the temple wall, and cried.
After that experience, I determined never to be left outside of the temple again. My husband supported me in my decision, and I was soon attending the temple as frequently as I could. There I learned principles that made a profound difference in my personal life and in relationships with family and friends.

Hi! My name is Elenoa, and I’m from New Zealand. My family and I shine our light by sharing the Friend with our friends!
Every month, my brother and sisters and I can’t wait to get the Friend magazine.
One day my sister Nevaeh asked our mom if she could share the Friend with her friends at school. Our mom said yes. After school Nevaeh told us her friends loved the magazine. Some even wanted a copy of their own!
Now each month when my parents go to the temple, they buy extra copies of the Friend at the distribution center. Then we think of friends who haven’t been coming to Primary or aren’t members of the Church. We visit them with the Friend and a treat.
One of my sister’s friends, Ally, is learning to play the piano. She loves playing the I Can Play It! songs from the Friend.
My brother Makisig says his friend thinks the Friend is cool, and my friend Abigail loves the Family Night Fun pages, with all the activities and recipes. We all love the Friend!

Morningsides were our seminary’s version of firesides. They were really early in the morning, but I was always glad I went.
At one of those early morning meetings, the speaker gave each of us a penny as we entered the chapel. We held the pennies throughout his talk, and at the end he challenged us to put our pennies in our shoes. His suggestion, at first, sounded like one of those things people do for good luck, like keeping a rabbit’s foot in your pocket. But then he explained his strange request.
The speaker asked us to pray every time we felt the pennies in our shoes. It didn’t sound too hard, but when I got up I realized that a penny in your shoe is only slightly less annoying than a rock in your shoe. Still, I decided to take the challenge.
During the day at school, the penny would slide around as I walked. And when I felt it, I remembered to offer a silent prayer. I forgot about the challenge after I took my shoes off until I wore those shoes again later in the week. I didn’t take the penny out but decided to pray again throughout that day. My day went so well I decided to put a penny in every pair of shoes I owned.
Those pennies changed me. Their effect was much better than good luck. They taught me how to pray and communicate with my Heavenly Father. Now I know how it feels to pray without ceasing and to always have a prayer in my heart (see Alma 34:27; 3 Ne. 19:24, 30).
I don’t keep pennies in my shoes anymore. After a few months, I didn’t need the reminder to thank Heavenly Father for my many blessings or to ask for His help when I needed it. I feel like I know Him better now, and I know He is always there to listen to and answer my prayers.

I remember what a challenge it was during those first five years after marriage when we were trying to have children.
Sister Soares: Those years were very difficult. I couldn’t get pregnant.
Elder Soares: We had many health challenges after so much effort. That’s when we received a priesthood blessing. Later you had a surgery, and a few months later . . .
Sister Soares: Our dream came true.
Elder Soares: You got pregnant.
Sister Soares: We trusted so much in the Lord, and we recognized tangible blessings. It was not easy for the two of us, who were so inexperienced, but it has also been marvelous.
Elder Soares: While we were dealing with life, the Lord provided for our spiritual needs, giving us the peace that we needed, the comfort and ability to work, to continue on, to finish our education. It was a significant time in our lives that completely changed the direction of everything we thought we’d be doing.