Gospel Story Finder

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Tracy sat in her bedroom, tugging at the end of a pigtail as she studied the advertisement in the comic book. In the ad were two photographs. The photo labeled “Before” showed a skinny boy with arms and legs like sticks. The other, labeled “After,” showed the same boy with enormous muscles popping out all over his body.
“Wow!” Tracy said. “I bet no one pushes him around anymore!” She thought of Buster Bailey, who liked to bully her as she walked home from school.
“I wish I could take Mr. Hercules’ free bodybuilding course. Then I’d really get Buster Bailey. But it’s only for boys.”
Tracy sprang up. “I know!” She tore out the ad and printed her name as only “T. Allison.” She addressed and stamped on envelope and put the ad inside it.
“Where are you going?” her mother called from the kitchen as Tracy opened the front door.
“For a walk,” Tracy said. She felt funny about not telling her mother what she was doing, but she didn’t want her to know about Buster Bailey. Her mother had enough to worry about. Tracy’s father had had an operation and was recovering very slowly. He had to stay in bed most of the time.
Tracy walked to the mailbox at the corner. I’m eleven years old, she thought. I can handle my own problems.
The next afternoon Buster was waiting for her as usual with his bike at the opposite end of the bridge. Tracy took a firm grip on her books and walked as fast as she could, pretending not to see him. But when she reached the center of the bridge, he got on his bike and headed straight for her, pedaling as fast as he could. She stopped and gritted her teeth. Within inches of running into her, Buster skidded sideways.
“I’m king of the bridge!” he shouted. “On your knees, peasant, and beg for safe passage, or I’ll throw your books into the river.”
Even though Buster was bigger than anyone else in their class, Tracy stood her ground and tried not to show that she was scared. She thought of the bodybuilding course. “You just wait, Buster Bailey,” she said. “One of these days I’m going to get you!”
“Bookworm,” he jeered. “Teacher’s pet.” After a few minutes of popping wheelies, he let her pass.
Every afternoon when Tracy got home, she stayed close to the front door and watched for the letter carrier. Luckily for her, the mail was delivered late in the day. A week after she sent in the ad, a bulky brown envelope addressed to Mr. T. Allison arrived. Tracy ran up the stairs to her room, shut the door, and opened the envelope.
Inside she found a letter, also a series of booklets titled Mr. Hercules’ Bodybuilding Course, filled with instructions and pictures of Mr. Hercules doing exercises, each more advanced than in the preceding booklet. Tracy didn’t understand all the words in the letter, but she understood the last line: “Please remit $45.00 within thirty days.”
Forty-five dollars! How could she possibly get forty-five dollars? She emptied her piggy bank on the bed and counted the money. Six dollars and thirty-eight cents. She couldn’t ask her parents for the money because they had lots of doctor’s bills. When she didn’t pay, would the police arrest her? Maybe Mr. Hercules himself would come looking for her!
That night she prayed for a miracle, and the next morning she woke up with an idea. She asked the neighbors if she could work for them. She weeded their gardens, swept their sidewalks, and washed their screens. She did errands and baby-sat. She saved every penny.
I’m working so hard, Tracy thought, I have a right to use the exercises. So every morning before breakfast and every night before bedtime, she took a booklet from the closet shelf where she kept them hidden and did the exercises. At first her muscles ached and she got tired after just a few minutes. She couldn’t do even one push-up. But she kept at it, and each day she could exercise a little longer. Soon she felt herself growing stronger.
The trouble is, Tracy thought as she walked home from school one afternoon, the exercises haven’t solved my problem with Buster Bailey. He’s always riding his bike, so I can’t get near enough to use my new muscles on him. She stepped onto the bridge and saw him waiting at the other end. When she reached the middle, he started toward her, coming faster and faster. This time he really would run into her! She jumped to one side. Buster twisted his wheel to stay in front of her, but the bike spun out of control and he was flung onto the pavement.
“Serves you right!” Tracy shouted.
Buster tried to get up and fell back, moaning. “My leg, my leg!”
Was he pretending? Maybe it was some sort of trick. But when she saw that he was crying, Tracy knew that he really was hurt. Buster would never cry, especially in front of a girl, if he could help it. “I’ll go get help,” she said.
“No! Don’t leave me, please!”
Tracy stared. “Why not?”
Gulping back his sobs, Buster blurted, “There’s this guy in sixth grade who’s out to get me. If he catches me off my bike …”
Tracy bit her tongue. Forgive your enemies, she reminded herself. She put down her books and helped Buster to his feet. “Lean on my shoulder, and try hopping on your good foot,” she told him. “My house is just down the street.”
They progressed very slowly toward Tracy’s house. She kept hoping that a car would stop and help them, but the street was deserted. “You’re heavy,” she said.
“And you’re strong,” he said, “for a girl.”
When they finally reached Tracy’s house, her mother took one look at Buster and phoned his home. While they were waiting for his father to arrive, Tracy’s mother asked what had happened. One thing led to another, and soon Tracy was pouring out the whole story about Buster, the body-building course, and the work she’d been doing to earn money.
“Wow!” Buster said. He was lying on the couch, his injured leg resting on pillows.
When Tracy showed her mother the book-lets, the letter, and the bill from Mr. Hercules, her mother frowned worriedly. “This is a big bill, Tracy. How much have you saved?”
Tracy tugged at a pigtail. “I only have twenty-seven dollars and thirty cents so far.”
“That was a very unwise thing to do, Tracy. Let’s write to Mr. Hercules and send him what you have,” her mother said. “When he learns the whole story”—she looked at Buster—“he might let you pay the rest when you can.”
To Tracy’s great relief, that’s exactly what Mr. Hercules agreed to.
Finally Tracy was able to pay her bill, but she learned a good lesson. Mr. Bailey asked Tracy to help Buster with summer school so that he could be promoted into fourth grade with the rest of their class, and Buster genuinely appreciated her help. Tracy was glad to help him—but this certainly wasn’t the way that she had planned to get Buster Bailey!

One Saturday in the family history centre, I was drawn to a drawer of microfiche, which store miniature images of vital documents. In it, I found a pile for Kent, England, which were filed under the wrong country. As I took them to their correct drawer, I noticed that they were from the same area as my extended family, so I sat down to read each fiche. Suddenly, I came across a family of parents and six children whom I was able to link as a sister to my uncle’s family. Until then, we did not know they existed. This was a clear example of how the Spirit always guides us in this sacred work.

During the time I was preparing to receive my mission call, I had the opportunity to attend a devotional where Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles spoke to a group of youth and young single adults. I had no idea that he’d be coming, and when I saw him, I couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say. He said he wanted to have a question-and-answer session. And when he asked for questions, I jumped at the opportunity.

“What is the most important thing I can do to prepare to be an effective missionary?” I asked.

He looked right at me and said, “Get over yourself.” At first I was taken aback. I had to think twice to make sure I hadn’t said something wrong, thinking maybe I was being scolded a little.

But then he explained that serving a mission is not about me; instead, it’s about serving the Lord and completely losing myself in that service. This advice completely changed my missionary preparation and my outlook on missionary service.

Three years ago, my mom was diagnosed with lung cancer, and after eight months she died. The years after her death were really hard, but looking back, I discovered that I am much stronger than I thought.
What makes the experience so amazing is that I know I could never have done this on my own. When I trusted Christ and put my faith in Him, He lifted me up to a higher place than I ever imagined possible.
He’s always been there, though I had my moments of doubt. But there were other moments—pure, sweet, quiet moments—when I felt Him there right beside me. It was like the light switch was flicked on and I realized His presence in my life. Those moments gave me the strength and courage to move on when the lights went off again. And as I trust in Him, those sweet moments happen more and more often.
I love Him. I know He is my Savior and Redeemer. I know that He is always there, and He will never desert me. In my times of need, and in my day-to-day life, He will always be near. I have only to trust in Him and try my best to keep His commandments. And, ultimately, it is through Christ’s Atonement that I can see Him, and my mom, once again.

But now some remarkable facts. His father was killed in an accident when young Richard was only ten weeks old (he was born March 23, 1906 in Salt Lake City, the last of nine children). All his early life he missed a father’s counsel and arm. Then, even though he won scholastic, debating, and his high school’s distinguished service awards, and had been editor of the school paper, he put himself through college by “working all the time” in every job imaginable: raising and selling flowers, selling magazines and newspapers, having a paper route, dispensing sodas, driving trucks, surveying for the railroad, making syrup, collecting bad debts, selling woolens, working in printing shops, advertising, and writing! After his mission he received his degree in English, and a year later a masters degree in economics. At twenty-seven, after having established his course in life, he married Alice Thornley, and together they raised their four sons, whom he called “the joys of my life.”
But can you imagine a man so widely involved, so deeply committed—a writer, an editor, an announcer, a reader of countless thousands of pages of reports, compendiums, and books—denied the use of an eye? It was a handicap that he shouldered throughout his career. Few of us will know his extra difficulties in reading, in studying, in meeting all his deadlines—all the pressures were there! And still he accomplished, still he worked relentlessly onward, with knowledge that all of us have handicaps of one sort or another, all of us have difficulties. But it is not the excuses we give that count, but what we do that counts.

Elder Holland: Matthew 7:16 says, “Ye shall know them by their fruits.” For example, even when our children were very young, they could recognize their mother’s devotion to the gospel and the role that a woman plays in it. They were often with her as she served her Relief Society sisters. Sometimes they had to pray that our old car would start. They saw her in an old coat trudging through the snow to care for Relief Society sisters in New England. They were only little, but they’ve never forgotten that. They saw their mother’s sacrifice and faithfulness, and as a result our daughter is a Latter-day Saint woman deeply committed to service, and our sons have deep respect and admiration for the commitment and devotion of our daughters-in-law. It is clear from their mother’s example that our children know the crucial, exalted place of women in their lives and in the kingdom of God.

“Love them and let your light shine. People will start to respect your decisions. My family and I were the only members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints at our school, and I noticed that people stopped swearing around us because they knew we were different.”
Penelope W., 13, Central Region, Portugal

Beckham loved to fish with Grandpa. He even caught a little fish!
But when Beckham told Mom about it later, he might have told a little lie.
Beckham won a jumping contest with his friends.
But when he told Dad about it, he might have told a little lie.
The next day, Beckham’s family went to the zoo. He even got to feed a monkey!
But when he told Grandpa about it, he might have told a little lie.
Wow! Did you really feed a dragon?
Well, no … it was just a monkey. But people won’t think I’m cool if I tell them what really happened.
You don’t need to make up stories for people to like you. Telling the truth is the best choice. And just being you is enough! Heavenly Father thinks so too.
Besides, feeding a monkey is pretty cool.
This story took place in the USA.

When I was a baby, I was baptized into the Orthodox Church of Ukraine. Growing up, the fact that I never made the choice to be baptized unsettled me. I started to think that religion didn’t allow me the freedom to choose for myself.
So I eventually stopped believing in God or anything spiritual.
One day, I was talking to my friend who was in Czechia doing a study program affiliated with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She invited me to do the program too. I wasn’t interested originally, but after a while, I decided to check it out.
I liked the school’s overall message of positivity, so I gave in and applied.
But I had no interest in the program’s focus on Jesus Christ.
Or so I thought.
This academy made me live differently than I was used to. First, I learned that I wasn’t allowed to drink coffee on campus!
My freedom was already slipping through my fingers.
Along with that, every morning started with a mandatory devotional. I would mostly sleep through them because I wasn’t interested. I was just there to learn and then live my life the way I wanted to.
But after a while, I noticed the people around me who were taking Jesus Christ’s teachings seriously. In Ukraine, many people only went to church a few times a year, but here, everyone was always talking about Christ. They were kind, good, and positive about life.
I started to wonder what my life would be like if I believed in Him too. Sometimes I even caught myself thinking, “What would Jesus’s perspective be?”
I felt confused. I told one of my friends at the academy about how I was feeling torn. He invited me to try praying about my feelings.
On one foggy morning, I decided to find a quiet place to meditate outside. I don’t know what came over me, but instead of meditating, I gave God the benefit of the doubt. I said, “OK, let’s talk.”
And I said the longest prayer of my life.
I just wanted to know if God and Jesus Christ were real.
As I was praying, the sun pierced through the fog. I felt its warmth on my skin and warmth in my heart. I felt like someone’s hand was on my shoulder, telling me They were right there with me.
The message was clear: They were real. They were aware of me.
I also realized something else.
Looking at those who were living the gospel of Jesus Christ, I didn’t see anybody being forced to do things they didn’t want to do or feeling restricted by their faith. I saw them choosing to live like Jesus Christ because they wanted to.
In the Book of Mormon, the prophet Moroni extends his promise through an invitation, not a command: “If ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost” (Moroni 10:4).
I realized I wanted to choose Him too.
From then on, I took learning about Jesus Christ seriously. I accepted missionary lessons. I studied the Book of Mormon. I prayed every day. I even got baptized! (My choice this time!) This was all so new to me, but I felt my heart changing.
I still have a lot to learn, and I am so imperfect, but I always say to myself, “Let’s just try to be like Christ today. Just keep trying.”
Elder Joaquin E. Costa of the Seventy beautifully taught: “At times, having faith in Jesus Christ may seem like something impossible, almost unattainable. We may think that coming unto Christ requires a strength, power, and perfection we don’t have, and we just can’t find the energy to do it all. But … faith in Jesus Christ is what gives us the energy to begin the journey.”
Jesus Christ can change us if we give Him the chance and keep trying. He doesn’t limit our freedom. Instead, He offers us even more through His Atonement: joy, healing, and hope.
We have the freedom to choose Him every day, and I’m grateful for the miracles my choice to follow Him brings into my life.
The author is from Kyiv, Ukraine.

Let me relate a story to illustrate.
A certain man, well up on the ladder of success, had great prospects for a very bright future. Then one day at a businessmen’s luncheon he decided that social drinking would make him more popular and successful. He soon began looking forward to the cocktail hours, and then found they didn’t come often enough. Finally he became an alcoholic, lost his job, his wife, and his friends. Because of the wrong choice at a moment of decision, he had lost everything he once so hopefully and diligently set out to accomplish.

As I approached my 18th birthday and prepared to enter the mandatory military service required of young men during World War II, I was recommended to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood, but first I needed to telephone my stake president, Paul C. Child, for an interview. He was one who loved and understood the holy scriptures, and it was his intent that all others should similarly love and understand them. Having heard from some of my friends of his rather detailed and searching interviews, I desired minimum exposure of my scriptural knowledge; therefore, when I called him I suggested we meet the following Sunday at a time I knew was just an hour before his sacrament meeting time.
His response: “Oh, Brother Monson, that would not provide us sufficient time to peruse the scriptures.” He then suggested a time three hours before his sacrament meeting, and he instructed me to bring with me my personally marked and referenced set of scriptures.
When I arrived at his home on Sunday, I was greeted warmly, and then the interview began. President Child said, “Brother Monson, you hold the Aaronic Priesthood. Have you ever had angels minister to you?” I replied that I had not. When he asked if I knew I was entitled to such, I again replied that I had not known.
He instructed, “Brother Monson, repeat from memory the 13th section of the Doctrine and Covenants.”
I began, “‘Upon you my fellow servants, in the name of Messiah I confer the Priesthood of Aaron, which holds the keys of the ministering of angels—’”
“Stop,” President Child directed. Then, in a calm, kindly tone, he counseled, “Brother Monson, never forget that as a holder of the Aaronic Priesthood you are entitled to the ministering of angels.”
It was almost as though an angel were in the room that day. I have never forgotten the interview. I yet feel the spirit of that solemn occasion as we together read of the responsibilities, the duties, and the blessings of the Aaronic Priesthood and the Melchizedek Priesthood—blessings which come not only to us but also to our families and to others we will have the privilege to serve.

Recently a young man going on a mission spoke in sacrament meeting. In his talk he explained that he and four friends had started out together in the deacons quorum. He said the friendship and support they gave each other as they faced challenges and moved forward through the ranks of the Aaronic Priesthood helped them to reach their goal of serving full-time missions.

The year 1998 was a turning point in my life. During that year, though concerned about my studies, I decided to work part time after school to avoid my father. Our relationship had been tense for a long time, but it was now turning into hostility. The anger we both felt was ready to erupt.
Then a miracle changed our relationship. One night at work, two missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints paid a visit to one of my coworkers. They shared a brief message with him, and I listened casually to what they said. Curious to hear more, I accepted their invitation to listen to the discussions.
In the first lesson, I learned I could live with my family even after death. A sense of remorse concerning my relationship with my father filled my heart. I knew it was time to repair the damage. My desire for a happy and a forever family gave me the courage to speak to my father. At first he didn’t respond, but my fervent and constant prayers and my faith in God gave me the strength to keep approaching him. I knew as long as I did my part, Heavenly Father would do His.
Day by day, God answered my prayers. The misunderstanding between my father and me dissolved, and our hearts softened. God’s love overwhelmed me, and in three months I was baptized into the Church, becoming a member of the Hsin Ying Branch, Tainan Taiwan Stake. I still show my love to my father, just as my Heavenly Father did to me.

I have always been interested in animals and birds. When I learned to read, I found books about birds and animals and came to know much about them. By the time I was in my teens, I could identify most of the African animals. I could tell a klipspringer from an impala, or a gemsbok from wildebeest.
I always wanted to go to Africa and see the animals, and finally that opportunity came. Sister Packer and I were assigned to tour in South Africa. We had a very strenuous schedule and had dedicated eight chapels in seven days.
The mission president was vague about the schedule for September 10th. (That happens to be my birthday.) I thought we were planning to return to Johannesburg, South Africa. But he had other plans. “There is a game reserve some distance from here,” he explained, “and I have rented a car, and tomorrow, your birthday, we are going to spend seeing the African animals.”
Now I might explain that the game reserves in Africa are unusual. The people are put in cages, and the animals are left to run free. That is, there are compounds where the park visitors check in at night and are locked behind high fences until after daylight. They are allowed to drive about, but no one is allowed out of his car.
Because of a delay in getting our evening meal, it was long after dark when we left to go to our isolated cabin. We found the turnoff and had gone up the narrow road just a short distance when the engine stalled. We found a flashlight and I stepped out to check under the hood. As the light flashed on the dusty road, the first thing I saw was lion tracks!
Back in the car, we determined to content ourselves with spending the night there! Fortunately, we were rescued by the driver of a gas truck who had left the compound late because of a problem.
In the morning they brought us back to the compound. We had no automobile and no way to get a replacement until late in the afternoon. Our one day in the park was ruined and, for me, the dream of a lifetime was gone.
I talked with a young ranger, and he was surprised that I knew many of the African birds. Then he volunteered to rescue us. “We are building a new lookout over a water hole about 20 miles [32 kilometers] from the compound,” he said. “It is not quite finished, but it is safe. I will take you out there with a lunch. You may see as many animals, or even more, than if you were driving around.”
On the way to the lookout he volunteered to show us some lions. He turned off through the brush and before long located a group of 17 lions all sprawled out asleep and drove right up among them.
We stopped at a water hole to watch the animals come to drink. It was very dry that season and there was not much water, really just muddy spots. When the elephants stepped into the soft mud, the water would seep into the depression and the animals would drink from the elephant tracks.
The antelope, particularly, were very nervous. They would approach the mud hole, only to turn and run away in great fright. I could see there were no lions about and asked the guide why they didn’t drink. His answer, and this is the lesson, was “Crocodiles.”
I knew he must be joking and asked him seriously, “What is the problem?” The answer again: “Crocodiles.”
“Nonsense,” I said. “There are no crocodiles out there. Anyone can see that.”
I thought he was having some fun at the expense of his foreign game expert, and finally I asked him to tell us the truth. Now I remind you that I was not uninformed. I had read many books. Besides, anyone would know that you can’t hide a crocodile in an elephant track.
He could tell I did not believe him and determined, I suppose, to teach me a lesson. We drove to another location where the car was on an embankment above the muddy hole where we could look down. “There,” he said. “See for yourself.”
I couldn’t see anything except the mud, a little water, and the nervous animals in the distance. Then all at once I saw it!—a large crocodile, settled in the mud, waiting for some unsuspecting animal to get thirsty enough to come for a drink.
Suddenly I became a believer! When he could see I was willing to listen, he continued with the lesson. “There are crocodiles all over the park,” he said, “not just in the rivers. We don’t have any water without a crocodile somewhere near it, and you’d better count on it.”
The guide was kinder to me than I deserved. My “know-it-all” challenge to his first statement, “Crocodiles,” might have brought an invitation, “Well, go out and see for yourself!”
I could see for myself that there were no crocodiles. I was so sure of myself I think I might have walked out just to see what was there. Such an arrogant approach could have been fatal! But he was patient enough to teach me.
I hope you’ll be wiser in talking to your guides than I was on that occasion. That smart-aleck idea that I knew everything really wasn’t worthy of me, nor is it worthy of you. I’m not very proud of it, and I think I’d be ashamed to tell you about it except that telling you may help you.

Lizzie, give it back! I’m playing with it!
No!
Girls, please stop fighting. Lizzie, you need to go to your room. Alice, I’d like to talk to you.
It’s not fair, Dad! I was playing with my unicorn, and Lizzie grabbed it. She always ruins things.
It’s tough to be a big sister. Do you know what helps me when I get mad?
What, Dad?
A scripture in the Bible. It says, “A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger.” This means that if you speak kindly and softly, angry people will feel calmer. If you speak rudely or shout at them, they will just get angrier.
Do you think that will work with Lizzie?
Next time, just try it and see what happens.
I want the fairy wings!
Alice remembered what Dad had told her.
Lizzie, would you like to wear my crown? You can be a princess, and I’ll be your fairy friend.
OK, I’ll be a beautiful princess!
Come on, your highness. Let’s play!

These past weeks have been challenging for Sister Nelson and me. Not only have we bid farewell to our beloved President Hunter, but thirty-three days earlier, we suffered the demise of our precious daughter Emily. A mother of five young children, Emily had just celebrated her thirty-seventh birthday when called to the other side.
President Hunter influenced Emily’s life in a real way. She welcomed his invitation for all adult members of the Church to hold a temple recommend. She and her husband, Bradley Wittwer, regarded their regular time in the temple as a sacred privilege. They viewed “the temple of the Lord as the great symbol of their membership and the supernal setting for their most sacred covenants.” She strived to emulate the example of the Lord Jesus Christ.
Even though illness brought intense suffering to President Hunter and Emily, an angry word never fell from their lips. Instead, they chose to endure with loving faith. When well-meaning friends and family expressed concern for Emily, she cheerfully replied, “Don’t worry, I’ll be OK!” Even when she concluded a telephone call, she did not close with the customary “good-bye.” She would say, “I love you!”
When President Boyd K. Packer and I last visited President Hunter, he beckoned for Sister Hunter, reached for her hand, and said with a smile, “I feel better when you are near me.”
My tears of sorrow have flowed along with wishes that I could have done more for our daughter and for our President. If I had the power of resurrection, I would have been tempted to bring them back. Though one of the ordained Apostles, each of whom is entrusted with all the keys of the kingdom of God, I do not hold keys of the Resurrection. Jesus Christ holds those keys and will use them for Emily, for President Hunter, and for all people in the Lord’s own time.
Emily and President Hunter had no fear of death. They had made and honored sacred covenants with the Lord, and they knew that his covenants to them will be kept with equal fidelity. They lived nobly as “children of the covenant.”

Two years ago Kimberly and her brother Christian attended home school. Their mom was their teacher, and they agreed that all the personal attention they received more than made up for the recesses that they missed.

Aulola Mateialona was born into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She was raised by faithful grandparents in Ha’alaufuli, Vava’u, Tonga and she was baptised at eight years old. Aulola later graduated from Liahona High School, a Church-owned school.
When she was 15, Aulola received her patriarchal blessing, which promised that if she stayed true to her covenants with the Lord, she would be married in the temple. It wasn’t until a few years later, as she prepared to serve a full-time mission, that Aulola fully understood the immensity of that promised blessing. As she walked through the Nuku’alofa Tonga Temple for the first time, she was overwhelmed by the desire to return one day with her eternal companion and be sealed to him in that sacred place.

Dan (name has been changed) was seeing me for professional counseling. “I try to live the commandments,” he said, “but I am constantly tempted by sensual distractions. I recommit but get worn down and occasionally end up letting my guard down. I am not going to pornography sites, but I become hypnotized by inappropriate images that seem to be everywhere. My wife is hurt, and I am tired of trying.”
With Dan, it was helpful to distinguish temptation from sin, understand shame and the power of agency, and learn to rely more on the Savior’s grace.
Dan had righteous desires, but he felt like he was failing. He was ashamed, in part because of his ongoing temptations. Like many, he thought that because he had given in to some temptations, he might as well give up.2 While guilt is an important feeling that motivates us to repent, shame can have the opposite effect, leading us to give up. This is particularly damaging when we mistakenly believe temptation is a sign of weakness.
With help, Dan learned not to panic when tempted but to acknowledge his feelings, then choose to move on to healthy behaviors.
Dan began avoiding the use of electronic devices when he was susceptible to temptation, such as when he was alone, tired, or stressed. He passed on problematic TV shows and other entertainment and instead spent time connecting with others. He strengthened his spirit by spending more time in the scriptures, journaling, improving his sleep, and exercising (see Doctrine and Covenants 88:124).8 These important principles can help each of us decrease temptations and increase strength, especially when practiced consistently over time.

My mother died when I was fifteen years old. That was twenty years ago. I have experienced all the feelings you have—the anger (at my mom and Heavenly Father), the frustration, the loneliness, the shock. All of these feelings are very real.
When my mom died, we did not talk about it. I think it took me years to work through her death because of that. Hopefully, your family can talk about your feelings and losses. Your mother still exists; that doesn’t end with death. Your mother is simply living somewhere else. She loves you very much.
If your family can’t talk about your mom, you need to find someone who can. Pray to Heavenly Father so that he can help you find a support group, a counselor, or a friend who will listen to you.
Something that helped me very much (although I didn’t realize it until years later) was staying close to the gospel, praying, and keeping the commandments. I allowed myself to be angry at Heavenly Father. I said so in my prayers. I think he probably expected that and allowed me to work through my feelings. In looking back, I can see that Heavenly Father surrounded me with his love. He protected me from myself and my grief.
You will always miss your mom. And finding peace might take a long time. For me, it took years. But I promise you that if you desire it, it will come. When you’re at peace, you feel watched over and warm.
I may never understand why my mother died when she did. But it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s okay. I wish you success.
Stephanie Ransom, 35West Valley City, Utah