Gospel Story Finder

A number of years ago, because of a statement that appeared to represent the policy of the Church, a faithful member feared he was supporting the wrong candidate for public office. Humbly he took the matter up with the Lord. Through the Spirit of the Lord he gained the conviction of the course he should follow, and he dropped his support of this particular candidate.

This good brother, by fervent prayer, got the answer that in time proved to be the right course.

So I decided that in my senior year I wouldn’t have another girlfriend. And it made for a really fun year because I made a lot of friends. One girl, though, I started to hang out with a lot. I could tell she liked me, and I started to like her back. But because I had made my decision, I knew what was right. I had to tell her that I didn’t want to date. She understood, and we actually became good friends.

My wife, Harriet, and I love riding our bicycles. It is wonderful to get out and enjoy the beauties of nature. We have certain routes we like to bike, but we don’t pay too much attention to how far we go or how fast we travel in comparison with other riders.

However, occasionally I think we should be a bit more competitive. I even think we could get a better time or ride at a higher speed if only we pushed ourselves a little more. And then sometimes I even make the big mistake of mentioning this idea to my wonderful wife.

Her typical reaction to my suggestions of this nature is always very kind, very clear, and very direct. She smiles and says, “Dieter, it’s not a race; it’s a journey. Enjoy the moment.”

How right she is!

Sometimes in life we become so focused on the finish line that we fail to find joy in the journey. I don’t go cycling with my wife because I’m excited about finishing. I go because the experience of being with her is sweet and enjoyable.

In Wisconsin it gets so cold that you can drive to an island. And that’s exactly what some young people from the Duluth District of the Minneapolis Minnesota Mission did. The “Isle of Happy Days,” Birchwood, Wisconsin, was the site of a Super Saturday for 150 home-study seminary students, leaders, and nonmember friends.
The 21-acre island boasts a 17-bedroom home that was built in the early 1900s, complete with a wood-burning stove and a one-lane bowling alley. In the recreation hall of the home, old and new friends joined in for pool, Ping-Pong, a ski movie, and lots of conversation. Dinner consisted of tacos and watching the flickering shadows from the huge fireplace jump on carved overhead beams.
The next day brought with it a scripture chase and gospel discussion. There were also more activities, long talks, and good food. For the young people from Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Canada, it was better than they’d hoped for and something for them to live up to next year.

I have a dear friend with whom I went fishing. He seemed uneasy during the trip and shortly confided to me that he had just returned from a visit with his son-in-law in another state. During this visit he had a strong feeling that he should give his son-in-law a father’s blessing but felt somewhat constrained because he was not his father.
As we discussed his uneasy feelings, it was decided that he should phone his son-in-law immediately upon our return from the fishing trip. During the phone call my friend’s son-in-law, with considerable emotion and tears, confided the great need and desire he had felt for a father’s blessing. He had earnestly prayed that his father-in-law, to whom he felt very close, would know of his desires and give him such a blessing.
When we pray to our Father in Heaven for help, he often answers us by inspiring one of his other children here on earth to provide that help. Generally speaking, the Lord does not speak with a clap of thunder but through the whisperings of a still, small voice as he inspires one of his children to help another in need.

Cami was staying overnight with Grandma and Grandpa. They had fun playing together until bedtime. “Let’s get your dress ready for church tomorrow,” Grandma said.
Cami liked going to church, but she felt a little worried. Would Grandma and Grandpa’s church be the same as hers?
The next day at church, Cami sang songs and took the sacrament. The Primary sang a special song just for her. She saw a picture of Jesus and listened to a story about when He blessed the little children.
When Cami got home, she ran to show Mommy and Daddy the picture she colored in Primary. “Guess what?” she said. “Grandma and Grandpa’s church is just like our church. We all believe in Jesus!”
Mommy hugged Cami. “We are all part of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” Cami smiled. She was glad that Grandma and Grandpa’s church was her church too!

Photo illustration by Allan Davey
“Write down all of your talents, and pick one to tell us about,” Sister Jensen said to our Laurel class. I proudly explained that volleyball was my greatest talent and that our next season—my last year of volleyball—was going to be the best one yet.
“Talents come in many forms. Some are spiritual gifts,” Sister Jensen taught. “I think that Heavenly Father has blessed me to be able to love everyone around me.”
Sister Jensen radiated love everywhere she went and shared her testimony in everyday conversations. Her love was genuine, kind, and Christlike. She had become more than a Young Women leader to me—she felt like a second mother, a sister, or a best friend during my high school years. We went to concerts together, went shopping together, and made strawberry jam together. She brought me homemade pudding when I got my wisdom teeth pulled, and she liked to visit me at the snow-cone shack where I worked. She worked at my school, so she went to all my volleyball games too.
A few months later, near the end of summer vacation, I woke up at 3:00 a.m. to the phone ringing. My mom answered and then came to my bedroom. “The Jensens were in a car accident coming home from their family reunion,” she said. “The car rolled off the freeway, and Sister Jensen didn’t make it.”
My heart sank. “This isn’t real,” I thought. “She texted me earlier today. How could she be gone now?”
I felt shocked, confused, and sad all at the same time. After a few minutes, the tears came, and my mom held me while I cried. Sleep was impossible, so I lay there with my thoughts and tears for the rest of the night.
In the coming weeks, I dropped into a sadness I’d never felt before. Volleyball wasn’t a priority, and I no longer looked forward to starting the school year. Everything I was so excited about before was now buried by sadness. “I feel completely overwhelmed with grief,” I wrote in my journal one night. “I can’t stop crying and I’m always tired.”
The night before the first day of school, I lay in bed crying and thinking about Sister Jensen’s death. I was sick of being sad, and I realized that I needed help to overcome the pain. I needed to pray.
“Please help me understand why she died and how I can cope with this,” I prayed.
I knelt there in silence, wondering if He would answer. After a few minutes, my mind started making connections between everything that had happened. My heart felt warm and my mind felt elevated. I realized that these thoughts weren’t my own; the Spirit was teaching me.
The plan of salvation—the flow chart I’d been taught since Primary—was real. Sister Jensen was born, she experienced happiness, she endured trials, she shared her love, and now she was in the spirit world. Her spirit still existed, and I would see her again. I realized that this plan, the plan of happiness, was designed to help us return to our Heavenly Father, to our families, and to our friends. In that moment, I wanted more than anything to live righteously so I could see her again.
During those first few weeks of school, I focused on trying to develop Sister Jensen’s talent of loving everyone. As I concentrated on loving other people, my pain began to slowly subside and I felt happier. I learned that we can show our love for others in many ways—by listening to them, by smiling at them, by taking them a treat, or by complimenting them. These are the small things that Sister Jensen did for me, so the best way to keep her memory alive was to spread her kind of love.
Although Sister Jensen died, I will always feel her love. As I strive each day to show a little more love for other people, I’m living the kind of life she did—and taking one step closer to seeing her again.

This pattern can be seen in the life of Jasmine B. of Washington, USA, who received help in coping with a disease. Before contracting the disease, she was a healthy young woman who excelled on her high school track team and loved getting up early for seminary.
Then she started feeling ill. She lost 15 pounds very quickly, and no matter how much sleep she got, it became harder and harder to get up for seminary. She couldn’t run as well as she used to and was hungry, thirsty, and weak all the time.
Over a month went by before she started to pray for help. “I held off so long,” she says, “because the thought of praying for help was an act of submission, admitting that something was indeed wrong with me. It scared me.”
But because she humbled herself to seek the Lord’s help, answers started to come. She went to see a doctor, who discovered she had developed type 1 diabetes, which meant her body could not produce insulin to process sugar. Diabetes has lifelong consequences and must be carefully monitored. Even as the doctors developed a plan to help her manage her condition, she began to worry that she would not be able to continue running track.
“I never ceased to pray as I struggled to understand my new life and to control my disease,” she says. “I prayed for strength and understanding and that I would be able to accept this trial. I would not have made it through those hard days and weeks without prayer.”
Jasmine made incredible strides. Within two weeks of being diagnosed, she was back practicing on the track, and later that year she did well in state competitions. “I believe Heavenly Father has blessed me with a strong, healthy body,” she says. “Having diabetes was not the end of the world. With His help, I knew I could get through this.”
By the grace of God and through her dependence on Him, Jasmine is able to cope with her disease and have wonderful successes in her life.

As a young man, I committed a serious sin, a sin for which I knew excommunication would follow just as surely as I knew the sun would rise the next day. But I had convinced myself that no price was too great to pay for “true love,” and I was sure that this love would justify me in the end.
Later, I knew that I must go to my priesthood leader and tell him the heavy secret that weighed down my mind and soul. Just as I had known, this loving man immediately took the steps necessary to excommunicate me from the Church. He did so with all the love and compassion of an understanding, gentle man who knew what must be done.
The reality and pain of my excommunication did not hit me until I returned to my family’s home with the news. I was sullen as I sought the right words to tell my father that the only thing I had to give him on his birthday was the news that I had been excommunicated from the Church he had loved and served so faithfully all his life.
For the next several months, time seemed to stand still for me; it seemed as though my life was a continual nightmare. No one seemed to understand my situation. There was no organization or group to support me or offer understanding. My life lost all direction and meaning. I was listless, tossed like a ship without sails, rudder, or anchor. Because I lost sight of all my former goals, my feelings were almost totally dead.
After spending some time at home, I met my childhood sweetheart and we began dating. Several months later we were married, but only after a very bad courtship. Because I had no priesthood, we could not enter the temple to be married, so we settled for a civil wedding. From the beginning our relationship was unstable.
I realized that attending church was a necessary part of the repentance process I had committed myself to, but I found it an almost overwhelmingly painful experience. Over and over again I reminded myself of my condition. Many times unknowing friends called on me to say a prayer or answer a question about the lesson and I knew that the only thing I was allowed to say was, “I’m sorry—I can’t.” In many ways I was reminded of my serious transgression.
As painful as these and other situations were, I was able to bear all but one. Each week as the sacrament was blessed and passed, in my heart I grieved and wept and prayed. But, because of my transgression and excommunication, I could not seal the holy baptismal contract by partaking of the sacrament. I had broken my contract. I longed to be one with the Lord and to be freed from my mountain of guilt.
Years earlier I had experienced the powers of Satan and his followers. Now I soon learned with great clarity the divine power contained in the righteous exercise of the priesthood. I could no longer exert this power to ward off these evil influences. Over the next several months, I called on my father many times to bless both me and my house and to cast out the darkness.
Later, my wife gave birth to our first child, a son. This was a major turning point for us. How lonely I felt as I watched my son being blessed, unable to speak or participate in that special ordinance. I also felt that his birth added a big financial burden and that this angered me. I became bitter, accusing God of adding more trials to my life than I could bear. I withdrew totally from the Church and the light of the gospel.
The next several years were total misery. As more children came, they were blessed by their grandfather. Refusing to let this hurt so much any longer, I became numb inside. Gone were the yearnings to rejoin the Church—or so I said. Gradually I slipped into more sin, each time in effect crying louder to the Lord and to my family, “See! I don’t need the Church!” The louder I yelled, the more I knew inside that I was wrong. In public I gloried in the disgrace and the hurt I was inflicting on my family, hoping this would justify me and stop my feelings of guilt. Throughout the entire experience I knew in my heart the truth. Perhaps that’s why I fought so hard. The more guilty I felt, the more deeply involved I became in sinful acts. Always I was trying to show the world that I was in charge of my life. I didn’t need anyone else.
Eventually, completely worn down from the internal conflicts, my wife had no choice but to leave me. This made me happy, I thought—freedom at last! The next two weeks were the loneliest of my life. I had no other true friends, and I would not seek comfort at my parents’ home.
Finally I was able to acknowledge that my family meant more to me than anything else. I yearned for my wife to come back. Though many problems remained, we agreed to reunite. I began removing myself from sinful associations and situations. But I still had no real desire to rejoin the Church—this desire came only gradually.
When my first daughter was born, I realized that I must make a decision. With three children I knew that I could no longer go on living for just today; I had to make a choice and live by it. For months my soul was in conflict. I wanted to choose the right, but I also wanted to be sure that my choice was not based on ulterior motives. I felt I couldn’t return just to make my wife, children, and parents happy. I knew that real happiness for all of us would come only if I actually regained a testimony of my own.
After much prayer and study and struggle, I began to feel a small spark inside me that brought with it memories of earlier spiritual experiences that I could no longer deny. The feeling slowly grew. And finally I felt that the Lord still loved me, even though I had been excommunicated. There was hope! I felt I was moving again!
However, knowing I was on the right path didn’t make anything easier. In fact, for a while, the harder I worked the worse things got. I struggled with great tests and hardships. It seemed that when a blessing was near, my life would start to come apart again and I would start to feel despair once more.
But I held on, and, true to his promise, Heavenly Father poured out a blessing. After much effort and great help and support from friends and leaders in the Church, I was able to reenter the waters of baptism. What joy I felt!
But the tests did not stop there. For the next year and a half I worked hard to prepare myself to receive the priesthood. My desire for restitution had returned in full. I was glad to be a member once again, but I longed for full fellowship. My struggle finally ended when I received a call from a General Authority asking me to bring my family and meet with him. With great anticipation, fears, and joy, my family and I drove to that memorable meeting. The children were excited because they were going to see an apostle of the Lord. I was thrilled at the thought of being able to bless the child my wife was expecting.
After a thorough and loving interview, this kind man of God asked my wife to join us, and then he placed his hands on my head and made me a whole man. He “restored me wholly as I was before with all the rights and powers of the priesthood.” My wife and I wept.
Then the Apostle turned to my wife and asked her if she would like a blessing. After she said yes, he turned to me and told me that the only way I would know that my priesthood was restored would be for me to use it. He asked me to bless my wife and offered to stand with me. During the next few minutes, I learned more about the priesthood than I could ever have learned from reading volumes of books.
The battle is not over. Some of my most severe challenges have raised their heads since that day, and many more will come, but I now can call upon the Holy Ghost to guide me.
I have been able to bless my second daughter and have exercised my priesthood in many other ways. My wife and I are now preparing for one of the most important days of our lives—the day we take our children dressed in white into the holy room of the temple to be sealed for time and all eternity.
My greatest regret is that I rejected these blessings years ago; the price I have paid to regain them has been a terrible one. I am so grateful to be back, but oh! how much wiser I would have been never to have strayed.

Then one night Jim returned home from an institute class and asked me about several terms he had heard there. “Do you know what these mean?” He spoke them, and they bounced against the blank wall of my mind. “I haven’t the faintest idea,” I answered. As we talked, a suspicion arose in us, awesome, even terrible, that we did not fully understand the doctrines of this gospel we professed to believe in—that our knowledge was shallow and unenlightened.
We started a concentrated study program immediately. We went back to the beginning again to understand faith, baptism, repentance, and the Holy Ghost. We chose vacations with the express purpose of studying together, weeks or weekends, in quiet places where we could relax, research, pray, and ponder.
Growth and understanding came in sudden leaps, as well as line upon line. Our efforts again meant selflessness, sacrificing other interests occasionally, in order to keep pace with one another and to share what we learned with our family. To drag a foot was to slow the rest of us, and neither wanted to be guilty of that.
Today, gospel study and service continue to be a central activity between us, a privilege, we hold most precious. As we look back, our first successes seem small now. But we will always acknowledge a certain ray of light that came one late winter evening to two desperate, seeking newlyweds. The gospel has reaffirmed to us that selflessness and service are truly a vital part of our Heavenly Father’s formula for an enduring marriage.

After work one evening, Kylie Laney said to her coworker Mike Comfoltey, “I’m speaking in church tomorrow. Do you want to come?”
Mike, who is not a member of the Church, agreed to attend.
Kylie gave her talk, but Mike didn’t make it to church that Sunday. At work the next day, she joked with him, “You have to come next week then!”
He did. The priests made him feel welcome in their quorum. He enjoyed church and kept going. Then Mike started going to Mutual with Kylie and his new friends from the Danville (California) Second Ward. On Kylie’s invitation, he took the missionary lessons.
“I liked the feeling of being at church,” Mike says. “I liked being with the missionaries. It just felt right.” He prayed about the Church, received an answer, and was baptized last month.

I know of two visiting teachers who had barely begun talking to a sister in her home when her two teenage daughters bounced in, announcing they were going to Young Women. Her husband, who also was leaving for an evening of meetings, detained their three-year-old son, who was determined to accompany his older sisters. Two other girls were arguing in the next room over which video to watch. When all the doors closed, the mother started to cry. It had been, she explained, a long week.
The visiting teachers wisely gave this very busy wife and mother a chance to talk. She discussed her week and how much she was missing her recently deceased mother. The three talked and shared their understanding of the gospel and the difficulties of every day application. The visiting teachers—one is single and has no children and the other is a single parent—praised their sister for all she was doing to raise her family well.
The mother felt better. The visiting teachers grew closer to each other and to this dear sister. They all felt better. In the true spirit of Relief Society, these visiting teachers strengthened this sister and her home. I feel better. Why? Because this story witnesses what I know—that Relief Society is indeed a balm that unites us, that helps us in our families. Sisters, I testify to you that one of our most important roles as Relief Society members is to strengthen each other, so all of us are better able to help our families. We come together. We learn from each other. We go home and strengthen our families. It’s that simple, yet how profound it is that we have this organization to be our balm of Gilead.

During his third year of law school, his wife was pregnant with their second child and he was an associate editor of the law review when the call came to serve as elders quorum president. “At this challenging time I accepted the call and prayed to Heavenly Father to make up the difference,” he said. “I needed help to fulfill my calling, successfully complete my education, find employment, and care for my young family. The blessings we received were far beyond what we deserved. That experience gave me great faith in the goodness of the Lord and His blessings upon those who earnestly strive to serve Him.”

Part of the power for the participants seems to come from the hill itself, like the mythological tale of the giant Anteaus who received all of his strength only while he was touching the earth. One could not help but be humbled while selling a copy of the Book of Mormon on the very hill from which the records in it were uncovered years before. I myself was caught up in the zeal of it and put myself to the test several times.
For instance, there was the man who helped me out on the freeway when I ran out of gas. In payment for the gas I thought I might as well give him the gospel—it was the least I could do. By the end of an hour he had enthusiastically agreed to see the missionaries. Among the audience, my favorite tracting trick was to claim I was a representative from a magazine (which I was) that was interested in nonmember opinions of Mormons. If they had no opinions to give, then I offered to inform them about the religion and get their opinions along the way. It worked great! At no time, though, did I do anything extraordinary except try to be an instrument of the Lord.

M?l? e lelei! I’m Lui, and I shine my light by sharing what I have with others.
I live on a big island in Tonga. I have six sisters and four brothers. We live close to the Nuku’alofa Tonga Temple.
Our beautiful island has many plants and animals. I’m in class four at the Ocean of Light Primary School, and science is my favorite subject.
My father grows crops, so we have plenty to eat. But many widows (women whose husbands have died) and other families don’t have their own crops. So my parents take them some of our food. I like going along to help!
The widows we visit use coconut husks to make fires to cook their food. When we take food to them, I remind my parents to take coconut husks too. I like to help get the fire going!
Heavenly Father blesses me when I help others—not with money but with wisdom and knowledge. I love to help and share what I have with others.

At first I thought the bishop was joking. Me, a Relief Society president? I wasn’t married, and I wondered what I could offer the women in my ward. But the bishop smiled kindly and reassured me that Heavenly Father wanted me to serve in this position.
In the week that followed, I was in a daze. Nothing seemed to sink in. But the next Sunday as I heard my name called and watched as members raised their hands to sustain me. I felt the mantle of the calling settle onto my shoulders. From that moment I began the most wonderful spiritual journey of my life.

Dressed in neon-green “Helping Hands” T-shirts, 150 youth from the Church descended upon the city of Ashland, Ohio, and worked to help beautify the city. The youth picked up trash along the roads entering the city. They also pulled weeds and mulched around trees at three city parks. In all, the youth provided two days and nearly 1,000 hours of volunteer service.

Their efforts were part of last year’s Akron Ohio Stake youth conference. Weeks before the conference, the stake youth committee worked with the mayor and other city leaders to identify service projects.

Shortly after the conference, the group gave the mayor a copy of the Book of Mormon with a handwritten testimony about the gospel and the joy of service. Along the way, 150 copies of the Book of Mormon were given to members of the Ashland Branch for them to hand out to friends and family in the community.

The mayor was so touched by the whole experience that all he could say, in a humble and emotional voice, was “thank you.”

C. S. Lewis wrote, “A wrong sum can be put right: but only by going back till you find the error and working it afresh from that point” (The Great Divorce, New York: Macmillan Publishing Co., 1946, p. 6). And who determines if it is an error? The regulations and policy officers? Yes, if they must, but to them it may not even be seen as an error. Yet that will not excuse you in your own mind. Let me tell you about an old wallet that was returned to me by a BYU student after nine years.
As a student at BYU years ago, I had used the telephone in the Joseph Smith Building and had carelessly left my wallet in the booth. After returning to the lost and found department regularly for several days, I finally gave up my desperate hope of ever getting my wallet and the much-needed money back.
Nine years later on a snowy afternoon the mailman delivered a letter. It began, “To Whom It May Concern:” The letter stated that I was involved in some unfinished business at BYU. I wondered what unfinished business I needed to set in order. I found in the Salt Lake telephone directory the name of the person who had signed the letter. I dialed the number. I identified myself. The author of the letter began unfolding her story. As the words spilled out, I learned that this young woman was now a wife and mother, had been in nurses’ training at BYU. She had worked and put herself through school, but she needed an additional ten dollars for tuition, so she had turned to her boyfriend for help. She had promised to return the loan by the following Friday. When Friday arrived, in spite of her earnest prayers, she was still short ten dollars.
Seemingly without reason she had walked into the telephone booth and found an old worn wallet. She held her breath as she opened it to find a single ten dollar bill. Then the question: Was this indeed an answer to her prayer? She had learned that Satan knows when we are being tested and that under pressure we might weaken. She told of paying her boyfriend, whom she later married, graduating in nursing, and now raising a beautiful family.
She then poured out her heart as she told of the suffering for what she acknowledged as sin—sin because she had known better. For nine years, through many moves, the old burden had lain deeply tucked away in her top dresser drawer. It seemed impossible for her to throw away the wallet, though she’d considered it many times. There is no way you can throw away a wrong, and yet there was no way, as far as she knew, to return the wallet. There was no identification.
One day while she was straightening the drawer, the old wallet surfaced again. This time she felt she must get rid of it, but only the right way. She thoughtfully opened the old wallet once again, and while examining it this time her fingers uncovered a small, orange card tucked away in a tiny compartment not previously noticed. The card gave the address of the Calgary Clinic in Alberta, Canada, where the medical exam for the student’s visa had been given. With a prayer in her heart she took a chance and sent the letter “to whom it may concern” to the Calgary Clinic to be forwarded if possible. Contact had been made, but the wallet was yet to be returned.
During the telephone conversation she indicated the wallet would be mailed that very day. I asked her if she would consider delivering the wallet in person. She seemed a little embarrassed at the thought, until I assured her it would be an honor and a privilege to meet a person possessing such honesty of character. She agreed that she would deliver it. At the appointed hour, we met in my office. As I approached, she smiled nervously and then stood up. As though she had rehearsed this experience in her mind a hundred times, she reached out her steady hand, looked me squarely in the eye, and handed me the wallet as she whispered, “Will you please forgive me? I want to be honest.” Words could not come. I could only reach for her hand and nod affirmatively.
As I frequently finger this old wallet that now lies in my top drawer, I ask myself, “How honest do you want to be?” I’ve learned you must spend a little time walking around inside yourself to answer the hard questions in life.

For example, when I was ordained a deacon, our bishopric stressed the sacred responsibility which was ours to pass the sacrament. Emphasized was proper dress, a dignified bearing, and the importance of being clean inside and out.

As we were taught the procedure in passing the sacrament, we were told that we were assisting every member in a renewal of the covenant of baptism, with its responsibilities and blessings. We were also told how we should assist a particular brother—Louis—who had a palsied condition, that he might have the opportunity to partake of the sacred emblems.

How I remember being assigned to pass the sacrament to the row where Louis sat. I was hesitant as I approached this wonderful brother, and then I saw his smile and the eager expression of gratitude that showed his desire to partake. Holding the tray in my left hand, I took a piece of bread and pressed it to his open lips. The water was later served in the same way. I felt I was on holy ground. And indeed I was. The privilege to pass the sacrament to Louis made better deacons of us all.

Dad was in the bishopric for seventeen years, practically the whole time I was growing up. My sister and I would walk the three-quarters of a mile to church and sit in the congregation and watch Dad up on the stand. Then we’d walk home and tell Mother about what we’d learned. Mother’s health gradually improved, and from the time I finished high school, she lived a normal, active life.
Seeing Dad up on the stand is a fond memory because I knew that Dad was doing what Heavenly Father wanted him to do. As long as he was trying to do what was right and serving Heavenly Father, everything was OK. Nothing was lacking in our lives. I knew that Dad was doing his best. I knew that Heavenly Father was taking care of Mother. And I knew that all I had to do was do my best, and Heavenly Father would help us.