Gospel Story Finder

When I was 15 years old, I liked a girl in my class at school and wanted to date her. She was attractive, but I wondered if I should ask her out before I turned 16. I remembered Alma 37:37, which says, “Counsel with the Lord in all thy doings, and he will direct thee for good.” So that is what I did. I prayed and waited several days for the Lord’s answer before making a decision.
One day at church, my bishop called me in to a room and invited me to speak the next Sunday. Guess what the topic was? Do not date until you are at least 16 years old. I felt that this was the Lord’s answer to me, and it was no. How could I teach something that I did not practice?
Because I had counseled with the Lord, I was able to learn the Lord’s will for my life and also to flee from temptation. I know that if we counsel with the Lord, He will tell us His will and we will be greatly blessed.

As I described in my childhood experience, the Holy Ghost can help you by warning you in advance of physical and spiritual dangers. I learned again of the important warning role of the Holy Ghost while I served in the Area Presidency in Japan.
During this time, I worked closely with President Reid Tateoka of the Japan Sendai Mission. As part of his usual mission routine, President Tateoka planned a meeting for missionary leaders in the southern portion of his mission. A few days prior to the meeting, President Tateoka had an impression, a feeling in his heart, to invite all missionaries of that zone to the leadership meeting, instead of the prescribed small number of elder and sister leaders.
When he announced his intention, he was reminded that this meeting was not designed for all missionaries but only for mission leaders. However, setting convention aside in order to follow the prompting he had received, he invited all missionaries serving in several coastal cities, including the city of Fukushima, to the meeting. On the appointed day, March 11, 2011, the missionaries gathered together for the expanded mission meeting in the inland city of Koriyama.
During this meeting a 9.0-magnitude earthquake and tsunami struck the region of Japan where the Japan Sendai Mission is located. Tragically, many coastal cities—including those from which the missionaries had been gathered—were devastated and suffered great loss of life. And the city of Fukushima suffered a subsequent nuclear event.
Although the meetinghouse where the missionaries were meeting that day was damaged by the earthquake, through following the promptings of the Holy Ghost, President and Sister Tateoka and all missionaries were safely assembled. They were out of harm’s way and miles from the devastation of the tsunami and the nuclear fallout.

One Sunday morning during our priests quorum meeting, my teacher, Brother Allen, asked me, “Brother Davis, do you have a testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ?” I told him I did. He asked me how I knew it was true. I told him my parents had taught me it was true, and I believed them.
He explained that I could not rely on my parents’ testimony forever—I needed to obtain my own. He told me that if I read from the Book of Mormon and prayed to Heavenly Father, He would answer my prayer, and I would know for myself that the gospel of Jesus Christ was true. He asked me to do that during the week and return next Sunday to report.
The next Sunday, Brother Allen asked for my report when class started. At first, I didn’t even remember the previous week’s lesson. I told him I had no report for him. He smiled at me and explained that sometimes it takes some work. After renewing his challenge, he told me he would ask about it next week.
During the following week, I read from the Book of Mormon for several days, and I said some heartfelt prayers. Soon it was Sunday again. I went to my quorum meeting with some trepidation. I hoped that Brother Allen would simply forget about his challenge.
When Brother Allen asked me about it again, I told him that I had read and prayed but had nothing more to report. He renewed his challenge and encouraged me to ask in faith. He then promised me that Heavenly Father would answer my prayers.
During the next week, I read several chapters of the Book of Mormon every night. I prayed earnestly for a testimony of its truthfulness. But by Saturday night, I was unsettled because I still had no answer.
That night, I read a chapter in the Book of Mormon, knelt by my bedside, and prayed like I had never prayed before. I begged my Heavenly Father for a knowledge of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon and that the Church was true. After my prayer, I lay in bed. My mind and my heart were filled with a message from the Holy Ghost. It was not a voice but a feeling; yet specific words were given to me. These are the words that filled my soul: “My son, you know the Book of Mormon is true. You know the Church is true. You have felt it in your heart since you were young. The Holy Ghost has testified to you that it is true. Of course it is true.” I was reminded of several specific spiritual experiences in my life when I had felt the undeniable influence of the Holy Ghost.
The next morning, I was up early and ready for church, excited for Brother Allen to ask for my report. As we assembled in our classroom, Brother Allen began teaching the lesson. He didn’t ask for the report as he had done the last two weeks. I raised my hand. He was startled, but he realized immediately that I was now ready to share my experience. I then told Brother Allen and my priests quorum that I had a testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ, that I knew the Book of Mormon is true, and that Heavenly Father had answered my prayer. In my 16-year-old language, I tried to share the magnitude of my discovery, though my words were insufficient.
I will always be grateful to Brother Allen for his persistence and his love as I gained my own testimony. I know that God lives and answers my prayers. ?

Ten-year-old Olivia curled upon her side and tried to go back to sleep, even though she knew that it would be impossible. After all, it was Christmas, 1843. Well, just barely, Olivia thought as she counted the twelve chimes that echoed softly from her mother’s clock.
Last Christmas, she’d lived far away in Leek, England. Then Grandpa Rushton had listened to the missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. “These men speak the truth,” he’d said. Three months later, Olivia and her entire family were baptized along with Grandpa and Grandma.
Leaving England to join the Saints in America had been a very hard decision. Would Grandpa be able to sell his silk business? What would Papa do? Would Baby James get sick and die like Mama’s other baby? And what about Grandma Lettice? Olivia would have been terrified to leave her home if she were blind like Grandma.
After a lot of prayer and asking the Lord, Papa knew that they needed to follow the counsel of the Prophet Joseph Smith and join the Saints in Zion.
And now it was Christmas, even though Christmas in Nauvoo was very different from Christmas in England. There, everyone enjoyed crackling Yule logs, the singing of carols, and the exchanging of presents. In Nauvoo, many people didn’t celebrate the day at all. Mama said that it was because of their religious customs before they joined the Church. But that didn’t seem like a very good reason to Olivia. If only we could have Christmas like we did in England! she thought with a sigh.
Just then, she heard muffled voices by the front door. Olivia slid out of bed and tiptoed across the cold floor. “Mama?”
Her mother and father were bundled up!
“Where are you going, Mama?”
“What are you doing up, Olivia?” Mama whispered. “You should be in bed.”
“I couldn’t sleep—and then I heard you.”
“Well, go back to bed,” Mama said. “Grandma Lettice asked us to go singing with her.”
“Singing? Now? May I come, too?”
“It’s cold outside,” Papa said.
“I don’t mind,” Olivia replied. “Please?”
Mama and Papa exchanged glances. “Well, all right,” Papa said. “But you’ll have to dress quickly. We don’t want to be late.”
Olivia changed into her warmest clothes, then followed her parents into the chilly darkness. The cold stung her face like an angry slap, and her breath turned into puffy clouds. “Where are we going?” she asked. “Are we going to sing a song I know?”
“You’ll see,” Mama said.
Just as she was wondering how much farther she’d have to walk, she saw her aunts and uncles, Grandma Lettice, and several neighbors gathered together outside the Mansion House at the corner of Main and Water Streets.
The Prophet’s house! Olivia caught her breath. Are we going to sing to the Prophet? she wondered.
“All right, everyone,” Grandma Lettice whispered. “Just as we rehearsed it.”
For a split second, Olivia wondered if it had been a mistake to come—she hadn’t rehearsed anything. But in only two notes, Olivia realized that she did know the song. It was one of the songs in Sister Smith’s new hymnal. She took a deep breath and sang with the rest of the carolers.
“Mortals, awake! with angels join,
And chant the solemn lay;
Love, joy and gratitude combine
To hail th’ auspicious day.”*
Soon lights flickered to life, and windows of the Mansion House opened. The Prophet Joseph Smith, his family, and all of his boarders looked out.
“Who’s singing?” someone asked.
“How lovely,” whispered another.
“Are there angels outside?”
Although Olivia wasn’t an angel, she certainly felt like one as a wave of warmth spread from the top of her head to the very tips of her toes. How happy the Prophet looks, she thought.
When they’d finished, Olivia was certain that she saw tears in the Prophet’s eyes as he thanked them for their beautiful serenade and blessed them in the name of the Lord.
“Merry Christmas,” Olivia called as the singers left. She decided that she didn’t want to be back in England, after all. She belonged here with her family, the restored Church, and the Lord’s prophet. She couldn’t think of a better Christmas gift.

During my senior year of high school, I prayed for the Spirit to lead me to someone ready to hear the gospel. I had a friend in mind as I prayed. This friend of mine, Ashley (name has been changed), had expressed some interest in my religion, and she already held herself to the same standards as Latter-day Saint youth. I was convinced this was the time she needed to hear the gospel.
I was serving in my Laurel class presidency at the time, and during a bishopric youth committee meeting, I received a strong impression to suggest to the bishop that we have a missionary activity in Mutual. I felt impressed that the youth of our ward should invite nonmember friends to this activity for a question-and-answer session with the missionaries serving in our ward. My bishop enthusiastically set up the activity with the elders, and I was sure that this was the answer I had been praying for. Now Ashley could come and learn more about the gospel in an environment where she would not feel any pressure. I was confident that after Ashley came to the question-and-answer activity, she would be touched by the Spirit, ask to receive the missionary lessons, and in about a month would be baptized and confirmed a member of the Church.
Now my prayers turned to how to ask Ashley to the activity. I prayed to serve as an instrument in the Lord’s hands to introduce His plan and gospel to someone prepared to receive it. At school I invited Ashley to the activity, and she said she would ask her parents if it was all right with them.
Later that afternoon, I received a call from Ashley. She told me her parents were definitely OK with it. In fact, she explained that before her parents married, her father had lived with two LDS roommates and was very impressed with how they lived. I was overjoyed because the only obstacle I had envisioned was whether or not Ashley’s parents would be OK with her pursuing another religion.
As I continued to pray about the upcoming missionary activity, I felt a calm reassurance that I was indeed an instrument in the hands of the Lord and that He was pleased I had acted on the prompting at the bishopric youth committee meeting. I looked forward to the activity with great anticipation. Ashley and I had been friends for many years, and I was excited to play a part in her introduction to the gospel and, of course, her resulting conversion.
On the morning of the activity, I received a phone call from Ashley. She had changed her mind and was no longer planning to come to the activity. I was devastated and confused. I had been praying for Ashley, I was sure she was ready, and she was the whole reason I had thrown myself into missionary mode. I also felt embarrassed. During the activity planning process, I had made it very clear to everyone that my friend Ashley was ready to learn and accept the gospel.
As I cried with frustration in my room, I began to be filled with self-doubt. If I had been wrong about Ashley, then maybe I had been wrong in believing that the missionary question-and-answer activity was actually a spiritual prompting. Engulfed in a teenage sense of uncertainty, anger, self-pity, and disappointment, I decided to skip the activity myself.
A few weeks later, as I was walking through the school library, my friend Brian asked me if I wanted to come to his baptism. Brian and I didn’t have any classes together that year, so it had been quite a while since I had seen or spoken with him. The previous year we had sat next to each other in a history class and had partnered up for a class project. Our project topic, randomly assigned by our teacher, was “Joseph Smith and the Mormons.” I remembered Brian had been quite interested in the topic as we did our research. However, he also liked to joke around, saying things like, “Remind me which wife number your mom is” and “There is going to be this fun party this weekend, but oh, wait—you’re Mormon, so you would be no fun to go with.” Thus, I initially dismissed his baptism invitation as another joke at the expense of my religion. He did not seem like the type ready to join a church with such “restrictive standards.”
But the next words out of his mouth stunned me as he described the whirlwind of the past few weeks of his life. He explained overhearing a fellow classmate and member of my ward invite someone to a question-and-answer activity at the Mormon church. When the person receiving the invitation declined, Brian asked our classmate if he could come along instead. Following the activity, he immediately began taking the missionary lessons. He read the Book of Mormon. He prayed about it. He knew it was true. He really was getting baptized, and if I wanted to, I was welcome to come. After all, he said, I was the one who introduced him to Joseph Smith and the Mormons.
In quiet amazement I realized that the Lord had heard my prayers. He was using me as an instrument in His hands to find someone He had prepared to hear and accept the gospel. It had never occurred to me to invite Brian to meet the missionaries because he did not seem, in my opinion, ready. Not like Ashley.
At that humbling moment I realized how vital it is that I act on all promptings I receive by the Spirit. Although I continue to pray that Ashley will be ready for the gospel, I learned a significant lesson from the unexpected outcome of my attempt at sharing the gospel with her. The Lord always has a purpose for the promptings He gives us, and I do not need to know or guess what it is. Instead, it is my responsibility to carry out the prompting confidently and resolutely. As I pray for missionary opportunities, act on promptings, and accept the Lord’s will, rather than trying to impose my own, I can more fully serve as an instrument in the hands of God and help build His kingdom.

As soon as Samantha opened her eyes, she knew what day it was. She ran to the kitchen in her pajamas. “OK, Mom,” she said. “Let’s go to the beach. I’m ready.”
Her mom laughed when she saw Samantha. “You may feel ready,” she said, “but you don’t look ready. You’d better get dressed first and have some breakfast. Then we can get ready to go to the beach.”
Samantha ran upstairs, hopped out of her pajamas, jumped into her clothes, and skipped back downstairs again.
“Settle down,” said her mom. “You can’t eat properly when you’re a jumping bean.”
Samantha tried to drink her juice and eat her cereal slowly. She even tried to butter her toast slowly. But she was too excited.
After breakfast Samantha washed her face, brushed her teeth, and combed her hair. “Now can we go?” she asked.
“Pretty soon,” said her mom. “But first we have to decide what to take with us.”
“I know what to take,” said Samantha. She ran to her room and came back with a red bucket, a yellow spade, a swimsuit, a towel, and a beach ball. “OK,” Samantha said. “Let’s go.”
“What about lunch?” asked Mom with a smile.
“Oh,” said Samantha. “I forgot.”
They made the lunch together. Samantha washed carrots and celery, and her mom cut them up. Samantha made her favorite sandwich—peanut butter, lettuce, and tomato. Mom made some egg salad sandwiches.
They got the cooler and put the sandwiches inside with the vegetables, some fruit, and homemade cookies. Then they put ice packs on top, and Samantha shut the lid and fastened it. “Wow!” she said. “It’s cold in there now.”
“It has to be cold,” Mom explained, “or the food will spoil.”
They filled a thermos with milk, then took everything out to the car. The outside air was still cool, but Samantha knew that soon it would be very, very hot. She hopped up and down. “Come on, Mom,” she said. “Come on.”
“Samantha,” said Mom, “I want to go to the beach, too, but it’s important not to forget anything. Our day will be much more enjoyable if we prepare well. Preparation is important in just about everything we do. Now, there are still some things we need to take. Think how hot it will be. We can’t put ourselves in the cooler. But we can make our own shade.”
“The beach umbrella!” shouted Samantha.
“Right!” said Mom. “And we need little beach umbrellas for our heads.”
“Sun hats!” cried Samantha.
“Right!” said Mom again. “And when we’re in the sun, we need something creamy and smooth to spread on our skin so that the sun won’t burn us.”
“Suntan lotion!” shouted Samantha.
“You remembered!” said Mom. “And we need something for our feet in case there are sharp stones or glass on the beach.”
“Beach shoes!” shouted Samantha.
“You’re very smart,” said Mom.
They gathered all those things and put them into the car along with Mom’s bathing suit, beach coat, sunglasses, and a book. Mom also got extra towels, a change of clothes for Samantha, and a big blanket. Just before shutting the door, Mom called, “Let’s get going, Samantha.”
But Samantha didn’t answer.
Puzzled, Mom called again. Then she heard a giggle. Samantha was already in the car, waiting for her!

During our first holidays together as a married couple in 1973, my husband received a $40 Christmas bonus. Though we didn’t have much money for gifts, we decided to spend the bonus on a family who had recently lost their husband and father. We had so much fun shopping for presents and then leaving them on the family’s doorstep that we made the secret project a family tradition.
Over the years we were blessed with four children. As soon as each child grew tall enough, he or she would take a turn at Christmastime wearing a special coat that we used only once a year. Adult-sized, dark in color, and hooded, the coat made a perfect disguise for sneaking up to someone’s doorstep in the dark to leave gifts.
Every autumn we would vote on who our secret family would be that Christmas and on what gifts we would give them. The children would decide who would have the honor of wearing the Christmas coat and delivering the presents that year. On abundant years, we would give homemade quilts or clothing along with toys, books, and goodies; on leaner years, we would give stockings filled with smaller items.
When Christmas Eve finally arrived, the lucky child would don the coat and put on gloves and large boots to complete the disguise. With everyone in the car, we’d park a short distance from the chosen house, and our little elf would make his or her way to the front porch. The fear of being seen or suspected made it even more exciting!
Back in our cozy home we would sit together with hot cocoa and bread sticks and relive the evening’s adventure. With full tummies and warm hearts, we would read the Christmas story from the Bible and appreciate what the Savior’s life taught us about service.
Christmases were always wonderful, and we never missed a year of our tradition.

Your testimony will grow as you listen to the prophet’s voice. You will feel the concern he has for you. When he speaks, you will feel the Holy Ghost. When I was 12 years old, the President of the Church was David O. McKay. My Beehive class was in Salt Lake City one day to do baptisms for the dead at the temple. We saw President McKay. Our Beehive advisor was bold enough to walk us all over to meet the prophet. He shook all of our hands. I will never forget the powerful feeling I had when I shook his hand. I knew he was a prophet of God.

Donna, a young girl with mental disabilities and not a member of the Church, was limited, but she wanted very much to be included. Sensitive to her needs, several young women invited her to participate in the ward road show. Her family was invited to the performance. Donna’s father wanted to know more about a church whose people cared enough about his daughter to include her. The whole family embraced the gospel and were baptized.

I started to get the New Era as a gift from a dear friend, and I think it is great. My friend Becky started to visit me while I was in prison. She asked me if I would like to talk to the elders, and I agreed. I saw them for six months, and it really helped. I’m going to keep on subscribing to the New Era now because it is still helping me. Thanks to Elder Castleberry and Elder Muller, and a real big thanks to Becky Hartswick for two wonderful gifts, the Church and the New Era.
Jeffrey D. AumanLewistown, Pennsylvania

Seminary students from four wards slip quietly from their homes in the dark stillness of the hour before dawn. The chill of fall in the air encourages them to run quickly to the warmth of a waiting car, already half-filled with other sleepy teens and leaders. The city will not wake for another two hours, and only a few delivery trucks and early commuters compete with the caravan of trucks and cars carrying the Latter-day Saint youth out of the city and up the serpentine road to Cerro de la Gloria.

By the time the group arrives at the top of the mountain, a faint, orange-pink glow is visible above the horizon in the east; but the “Hill of Glory” is still guarding its treasure. In the gray light of predawn, a hymn is sung, a prayer is offered, and the students begin this day’s study of the gospel. Only then does the darkness give up its secret—streaks of red and orange fill the sky as the sun reveals the glory of the panorama surrounding today’s mountaintop classroom. The majestic peaks of the Andes Mountains on the west and the sweeping plains surrounding the city on the east display the glorious work of the Creator.

In this idyllic setting—much different from their ordinary classroom—these young men and young women in Mendoza, Argentina, are spiritually fed and fortified to face the challenges of another day. As the sun rises higher, the spirit of the morning begins to transform to the concerns of the day, but the students linger a moment and talk about the blessings of having the gospel in their lives.

I recently had the opportunity of attending Especially for Youth. Youth from all over the country gathered together for a fun and spiritually uplifting youth conference. My personal favorite activity was the service project. At that time, something happened to me that definitely changed me for the better.
On Wednesday, my group sat on the lawn, anticipating what activity was in store for us. We tried to guess what the counselors had planned. My group looked up to see one of our counselors holding the hand of a young person who was clumsily skipping toward us. As they got closer, we realized that our counselor was holding the hand of a young boy with Down’s syndrome. A contagious smile stretched across the boy’s face, letting us know that he was excited to be with us. We immediately noticed a name tag, Hello! My name is Mike. We were asked to play games with Mike and have a good time. The boys in the group asked Mike what his favorite game was. “Kickball!” he shouted, so we gathered some bases and a ball and began to play.
While waiting in line to kick, I was approached by the director of my EFY session, Brother Buckner. We started talking and laughing. I told him that Mike was extremely polite and fun to be around. I also mentioned how much I loved doing service for others and how great it made me feel.
Brother Buckner smiled, then asked, “Have you ever met anyone guaranteed to be in the celestial kingdom?”
Puzzled, I replied, “You mean Mike?”
With a slight nod of his head, he responded by saying, “Yes, so who is serving whom?”
His question surprised me, and I began to think. I realized that, since we are not from the same place, the next time I would see Mike he will most likely be in perfect form without flaw. His constant smile made me think that somewhere inside of him, he knows it too. I also realized that Mike taught me more about life and how to enjoy it in 30 minutes than I had learned in my previous 16 years.
I think of Mike every day, and I thank Heavenly Father for allowing me to have the opportunity to meet him and learn from him.

After several unsuccessful visits and discussions with the missionaries, I came to recognize the fact that the Church was true, but I had a problem: The Book of Mormon. I did not accept the idea that there was another scripture besides the Bible that would testify of Christ. I had a keen interest in reading and my supposed broad knowledge of the Bible and other philosophical books did not facilitate my discussions with missionaries.
Finally, I began to read the Book of Mormon. At first, I read it just out of curiosity, but once I started, I could not find the strength to stop. After a full reading in a month, I began to feel something deep inside me, a warm feeling in my heart, a light in my mind, a transformation, a voice.
At night, I could not close my eyes because my mind was revealed about the sacredness of the Book of Mormon. I was baptized in February 2010. As a result, I served a full-time mission and married Prisca Ebi, a lovely daughter of our Heavenly Father!

One day my older brother, Lynn, came hurrying home from high school basketball practice, bringing a teammate with him. Upon entering the house, both made a dash for the kitchen to satisfy their hungry appetites. My brother’s friend loudly described his feeling of hunger by using a few vulgar and profane words to accent his anxious mood. Lynn quickly, quietly, but firmly said, “Hey, don’t talk like that. My little brothers might hear you. I don’t want them to learn words like that. Besides, they might think less of you than they ought to.”

Unknown to my brother, my friend and I did hear that conversation, but the profane words were quickly erased from my mind by the thoughtful concern and courage shown by my older brother. That experience made a positive, lasting impression on my young mind. At the risk of sacrificing a friendship, his kindly chastisement of his friend taught me a lesson of love and concern for others and of courage to uphold the right.

On February 29, 1828, a baby girl was born in Petersham, Massachusetts. She was the seventh child of David and Diadama Woodward. Named Emmeline, the child soon showed a talent for writing and a desire to learn, so her parents enrolled her in grammar school. Even after Emmeline’s father died, her mother made sure that Emmeline attended school. Later Diadama remarried, and the family moved to nearby New Salem. This move benefited Emmeline greatly. There her mother was able to raise the money needed for tuition to send Emmeline to a good private school, the New Salem Academy.
While Emmeline was away at school, an elder from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints came to New Salem and converted several people. Among them were Emmeline’s mother, her two younger sisters, and a half brother. When Emmeline returned home from school, her mother encouraged her to join the Church too. Despite the objections of Emmeline’s friends and her older brothers and sisters, she was baptized in the Old Morse Creek on March 1, 1842.
After finishing school, Emmeline began teaching in Orange, Massachusetts, for $1.50 a week. However, her teaching career was soon cut short. Fearing that her daughter, standing alone, might not be able to withstand the persecutions against the Church, Diadama arranged a quick marriage in July 1843 between Emmeline and James Harris, a son of the local branch president. The youngsters were both fifteen years old at the time.
In April 1844 Emmeline left Massachusetts with her husband and his family for Nauvoo, Illinois. Upon their arrival in Nauvoo, Emmeline had the privilege of meeting and shaking the hand of the Prophet Joseph Smith, who was cruelly martyred just a few months later.
Times were hard for the Saints, and James’s parents wanted to leave the Church. They entreated their son and his pregnant wife to join them, but the young couple refused. Emmeline and James’s child, a son, was born in September 1844, but he died several weeks later. After losing their child, James left to find work and never returned.
Grieving and alone at the age of sixteen, Emmeline decided to remain in Nauvoo and teach school. She became acquainted with Bishop Newel Whitney, and on February 14, 1845, they were married. In 1848, Emmeline traveled with Newel and his family to Salt Lake City, Utah. Within two weeks of their arrival in the Valley, Emmeline gave birth to a girl.
After living in Salt Lake Valley for two years, Newel died. Once again Emmeline was left alone, and again she turned to teaching. She taught sixty-five children in a log house without desks, blackboard, or books.
Emmeline’s teaching career ended in October 1852 when she married Daniel H. Wells, a prominent Church leader, who later served as a counselor to Brigham Young for twenty years. Daniel and Emmeline had three daughters, and Emmeline was a devoted wife and mother. Secure in her marriage, Emmeline was able to use many of her talents, especially her writing. She wrote letters and poems to friends and relatives. Writing had become for her a “solace in times of trouble and sorrow, something to turn to for relief, and in a way a pasttime.”
Emmeline’s talent for writing soon led her to contribute to the Woman’s Exponent. Later she became its assistant editor and then editor in 1877. She served as an editor for almost forty years. This nationally recognized publication was the second woman’s magazine to be created in the United States and the first one in the West.
While editor of the Woman’s Exponent, Emmeline felt that its major purpose was to educate women about all subjects and to encourage them to be active in public affairs, particularly politics. Women were encouraged to write their thoughts down and to submit them to the magazine.
Through her work Emmeline became known to the national leaders of the suffrage movement. In Utah she was elected vice president of the Women’s Suffrage Association. Emmeline became a personal friend of Susan B. Anthony and corresponded with her regularly. She attended several conventions in Washington, D.C., and met several presidents of the United States, never passing up an opportunity to speak out for women’s right to vote. In an interview with the associated press in Washington, D.C., she said, “For one, I am proud of Utah’s record in dealing with her female citizens. I look forward with eager hope to the day when woman suffrage shall become universal.”
President Brigham Young also knew the power of the written word and the importance of women in the Church. In September 1876 he met with Emmeline in his office and said to her: “I want to give you a mission, and it is to save grain. … I want the sisters to save the grain and I want. … you to begin by writing the strongest editorial that you can possibly write upon this subject.”
In 1876 Emmeline’s first editorial encouraging all women to save wheat appeared in the Woman’s Exponent. A central grain committee was established with Emmeline as chairman. Money was raised to buy wheat, fields were gleaned, and wheat was saved. Children helped the sisters too. During the first year of the program over 10,000 bushels of grain were saved! In subsequent years the wheat was given to the poor as well as to people in southern Utah who suffered from a drought. Flour was sent to San Francisco after the earthquake and fire in 1906, and a year later China received help from the Church during a famine. During World War I, the Relief Society sold more than one hundred thousand bushels of wheat to the United States government.
Emmeline wrote several songs, including “Our Mountain Home So Dear.” In 1896 she published a book of her poems entitled Musings and Memories. She also wrote for the Deseret News, Juvenile Instructor, Millennial Star, and national newspapers and magazines. Emmeline founded two literary societies in Utah.
No matter what Emmeline was doing in her life she always felt that she was serving the Church. At the age of eighty-two Emmeline was called to be the fifth general president of the Relief Society. She served faithfully in that capacity for eleven years. In 1921, three weeks after her release as president, Emmeline died. For the first time in Utah, flags were flown at half-staff to honor a woman—Emmeline B. Wells.

A few years ago, Sister Joyce Audrey Evans, a young mother in Belfast, Northern Ireland, was having trouble with a pregnancy. She went to the hospital, where one of the nurses told her she would probably lose the baby. Sister Evans replied: “But I can’t give up. … You have to give me hope.” Sister Evans later recalled: “I couldn’t give up hope until all reason for hope was gone. It was something I owed to my unborn child.”

Three days later she had a miscarriage. She wrote: “For one long moment, I felt nothing. Then a profound feeling of peace flowed through me. With the peace came understanding. I knew now why I couldn’t give up hope in spite of all the circumstances: you either live in hope or you live in despair. Without hope, you cannot endure to the end. I had looked for an answer to prayers and was not disappointed; I was healed in body and rewarded with a spirit of peace. Never before had I felt so close to my Heavenly Father; never before had I felt such peace. …

“The miracle of peace was not the only blessing to come from this experience. Some weeks later, I fell to thinking about the child I had lost. The Spirit brought to my mind the words from Genesis 4:25 [Gen. 4:25]: ‘And she bare a son, and called his name Seth: For God, said she, hath appointed me another seed. …’

“A few months later, I became pregnant again. When my son was born, he was declared to be ‘perfect.’” He was named Evan Seth.

Subject: Elizabeth
Age: 20 years
Event: Meeting Kara at the airport
Elizabeth had taken the flight from Minneapolis to Salt Lake City on her return to college. She had walked slowly past the car rental agency three times, carefully studying the features of the attractive girl at the counter. Finally she approached the girl.
“Excuse me, are you Kara?”
“Lisa?” the girl cried. “Is that you?”
They threw their arms around each other, both chattering excitedly.
“What are you doing here?” Elizabeth asked.
“I was transferred from our L.A. office six months ago. Look, I’ve got a break coming. Let’s go get something to eat so we can talk.”
They sat at a small table and talked, filling each other in on their lives since they had last been together.
“I lost track of you after you left town,” Elizabeth said. “My bishop said you never talked with him.”
“Oh, I changed my mind and just had the problem fixed,” Kara said lightly.
“Oh,” Elizabeth said, trying not to betray her disappointment.
“I guess you’re shocked, but it’s quite common these days.”
“But why did you suddenly leave town after that?” Elizabeth asked.
“I had to get away,” Kara said, pursing her lips nervously, “and so I ran away.”
“But where did you live? What did you do?”
Kara shook her head slowly. “You don’t want to hear about that.” She took a final drag on her cigarette and exhaled slowly. “But look, I’m all squared away now. I’m into group therapy, and it’s really helped me get rid of all my guilt feelings about everything. What a relief not to feel guilty about anything! But I guess you know about that, because you’ve never done anything to feel guilty about.”
A few minutes later, Elizabeth asked, “What happened to Larry Hill?”
“Last I heard he was working as a DJ in a disco in California.”
“I guess that makes him one of the real men, doesn’t it?” Elizabeth said. “He always needed that assurance.”
“I’ve heard he’s still running around just like he did in high school,” Kara added. “I guess I am, too, for that matter. I’m just not ready to settle down.”

I can tell you from experience something about how to help if you are the one sent. Shortly after I was called to the Quorum of the Twelve, I got a phone call from President Faust, counselor in the First Presidency. He asked me to come to his office. I went with some concern as to why he would take the time to visit with me.

After some pleasantries, he looked at me and said, “Has it happened yet?” When I looked puzzled, he went on to say, “I’ve been watching you in meetings. It seems to me that you have been feeling that your calling is beyond you and that you are not qualified.”

I said that doubt had come to me, as if I had hit a wall. I expected that he was going to reassure me. I told him that I appreciated his being aware of my doubts and asked for his help. But I was surprised by his kind, firm reply. He said, “Don’t ask me. Go to Him.” Then he pointed up to heaven. Now years later I sit in that same office. When I walk into it I look up and remember him and how he taught me by example how to help those who are feeling overwhelmed in the Lord’s service. Find a way to send them with confidence to Him. If they will follow your counsel, they will gain the strength they need and to spare.

From this pulpit years ago, President Marion G. Romney recounted reading the Book of Mormon aloud, alternating paragraphs with his young son, he on the bottom level of a double-decker bed and his son on the upper. He thought his son was catching a cold but then learned that the tears came from his son feeling testimony that the book was true. And because they read together, both were blessed. (See Conference Report, Apr. 1949, 41.)

The fact that he wrote every day makes clear to me that he knew his ordinary life was historic because it was part of the building of Zion in the latter days. The few entries which record his testimony seem to appear when death took a child. His testimony is to me more powerful because he offered it when his soul was tried.

Here is his record of one of those times. His daughter Elizabeth died in his arms. He reported her burial and the location of her grave in a few lines. But then, the next day, November fourth of 1863, this is the entire entry:

“Wednesday. Repairing up the stable my little children [chattering] around me but I miss my dear Lizzy. I pray the Lord to help me to endure faithful to his cause to the end of my days, that I may be worthy to receive my children back into the family circle, who have fallen asleep in Christ in the days of their innocence[:] Ann, Moroni, Esther Ellen & Elizabeth, blessed & happy are they because of the atonement of Jesus Christ.” …
He taught the truth. He testified that it was true. He lived consistent with his testimony and prayed that he might endure faithful until he could be united with his dear family. I feel his love and a desire to be included in that circle. …
I know that we can live together in families in eternal life, the greatest of all the gifts of God.