Gospel Story Finder

Yet I have not been immune to challenges and have at times struggled to defend my faith. A particularly unsettling challenge came when I was a young law clerk.
A supervisor who knew of my Church membership told me that new research had invalidated the Book of Abraham. I was shaken by that accusation. But I felt confident in a secret weapon. My father had recently been called as a General Authority. I was sure that he would have arguments to counter those I faced at work.
It was in such a state of confidence that I called my father on the phone. I described my situation and eagerly awaited his answer. I was sure that he would refute the accusations about the Book of Abraham. But his answer surprised me. He simply asked, “Have you read the Book of Abraham?”
“Yes,” I replied.
He asked, “How do you feel when you read it?”
“Good,” I admitted.
“What else do you need to know?” he asked.
Of course, that phone conversation didn’t help me much at work. But for the last thirty years it has caused me to reflect on my testimony of the Book of Abraham and the other works of scripture revealed to the prophet Joseph Smith, especially the Book of Mormon.
I cannot prove to other people the divinity of these books. But, as I read them, they repeatedly prove themselves to me, through a warm feeling that first came as my mother read them aloud while Stuart and I snuggled next to her in bed.

Mother’s Day—Dad accepted my invitation and brought Mom out to the branch’s Mother’s Day program today. Bill came too. After sacrament meeting, I went with the elders to my parents’ home for a missionary lesson. After the first discussion Elder Johnson tried to make an appointment to come again and teach my family.
“How about right now?” Mom asked.
So the second lesson was given. Dad had to leave then to do the farm chores. Mom quickly prepared some sandwiches and salads for the elders and our family. About an hour later Dad came back in and ate, and the third lesson was given. Three in one night!
July 27—Tonight I baptized my family. It is three months to the day since I joined the Church. Our family is finally united. As I brought Mom up out of the water, she embraced me and shed tears of joy. We are recipients of life’s greatest blessings.

A few days before the conference, the answer I had been searching for came to me, seemingly out of nowhere. I woke up in the middle of the night, a time when my anxious thoughts usually kept me company. But that night, a phrase echoed in my mind: “Graceful—full of grace.” As I drifted back to sleep, I thought to myself, “Yes, that’s a good point. Being graceful means being full of His grace. I’ll include that in my presentation.”
When I woke again in the morning, the same phrase was there, clear and insistent: “Graceful—full of grace.” I realized then that this message wasn’t just for the people at the conference—it was for me. That was the source of my sadness. That was what I had lost: my physical gracefulness.
As a young girl, I had been a ballerina, dancing through much of my adolescence and into college. I had never thought of myself as graceful, but years of training had ingrained in me a certain physical poise—a way of standing, moving, and balancing. Even after I stopped dancing, that grace remained. And now, in the quiet of those early morning hours, the Lord was redefining the word for me. I no longer needed the physical grace I once had. I had His grace to lean on in my moments of weakness. His grace was sufficient to help me smile, to shift my focus from my limitations to His strength.
Heaven’s message to me was clear: “You no longer need to rely on the physical grace you’ve learned. My strength is made perfect in your weakness.”
Graceful.
It’s a word I now carry with me, not as a reminder of what I’ve lost but of what I’ve gained. It’s not about my grace anymore—it’s about Christ’s grace, filling my heart and mind.
Graceful. It’s a word I now carry with me, not as a reminder of what I’ve lost but of what I’ve gained.

Maddie watched as Mom ladled raspberry jam into canning jars. Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, making the dark red fruit sparkle like rubies in the glass jars.
Mom’s face was also red. She looked tired and hot.
Maddie thought about some of the important jobs her friends’ moms had. One was an accountant. Another was an engineer. Maddie wondered why her mom didn’t have a job like those. She couldn’t help thinking that if she did, Maddie’s family would have more money. Maybe Maddie could even have some new clothes for school.
“That’s done for another year,” Mom said as she placed a lid on the last jar.
“Why do you do all that work?” Maddie asked. “We could buy jam at the store.”
Mom swiped a hand over her forehead and sank into a kitchen chair. “What’s your favorite kind of jam?” she asked.
Maddie didn’t have to think about it. “Raspberry.”
“And Dad’s?”
“Raspberry.” Maddie was beginning to understand.
“I make raspberry jam because you and your brother and your dad like it so much,” Mom said. “It makes me feel happy when I see you pulling out a jar of my jam and knowing that I made it just for you.”
Maddie thought about how Mom helped her whenever Maddie got stuck on a math problem. And how Mom was always interested to hear about how the school day went.
Maddie wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist. “Thanks, Mom.”
Mom returned the hug. “For what?”
“For doing the things you do,” Maddie said. “Being a mom is the most important job in the world.”

Four years later, in 2002, my father and one of my sisters died just a week apart. I carried on, serving as a district missionary until I received my full-time mission call in July 2004 to serve in the South Africa Durban Mission. I was in the mission field just a few months when my brother called my mission president, informing him that my mother had died and had already been buried. Can you picture how it feels to lose such a mother? Four months later another sister died.
As a missionary, I had been teaching people about the restored gospel. Because of my testimony, I never worried about my losses. I had peace of mind and hope that in due time I would see my parents and sisters again. On the way home from my mission in July 2006, I went to the Johannesburg South Africa Temple and was baptized on behalf of my male family members who had passed on, and I had baptisms performed for my sisters who had died.

My parents have served in the temple for more than 30 years—Dad as a sealer, Mom as an ordinance worker. They also served five full-time missions together—in Riverside, California; Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia; Nairobi, Kenya; the Nauvoo Illinois Temple; and the Monterrey Mexico Temple. In Mexico they worked hard to learn a new language, which wasn’t easy at 80 years of age. But they sought to do the will of the Lord rather than to pursue their own desires in life.

I was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Nigeria along with my parents when I was 10 years old. As I got older, I began helping the local missionaries in their work. It stunned me that often without college degrees, these missionaries were able to speak to all kinds of people, and they did so with power, authority, and conviction, and without fear.
Their example helped me realize that I wanted to serve a mission, but I also wanted to get a higher education. I had difficulty getting admitted into college, so I applied and submitted my mission papers around the same time. My admission letter and mission call arrived on the same day. I knew I wanted to go to college, but I chose to serve the Lord by going on a mission first.
Even though it was a sacrifice, serving a mission was worth putting college on hold. I learned many valuable skills—things like self-discipline, focus, communication, leadership, and reliance on the Lord. And everything I learned helped me in my schooling later. I will never regret putting the Lord first.

I begin with a true story. Our youngest son, Robert, studied law at this university and took a class in trusts from a distinguished legal scholar, Dallin H. Oaks. My son told me that on the first day of the class the teacher said to the students, “As we begin this course, I want you to know where I am coming from. I believe that Jesus is the Christ and the Savior and the Redeemer of the world. I believe that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God and restored the gospel of Jesus Christ in its fullness to the earth in our day. I believe that all of the presidents of the Church since Joseph Smith have been successors in interest, keys, and authority to that held by Joseph Smith. Now please open your books and we’ll study trust law.”
I believe that the first day’s instruction was more valuable to Robert, and more useful in his life, than the rules of trust law set forth in Ex Parte-Pye and other decisions, important as they are in the law of trusts.

A lot of years passed, and then last year I returned to Brazil to attend the rededication of the São Paulo temple. At that time I learned that there were 187 stakes in Brazil. There are now 26 missions, 4 temples, and almost 1 million members. Imagine my surprise when I walked into a stadium filled with over 60,000 members who had gathered to hear President Gordon B. Hinckley and celebrate the temple dedication. To me it was a miracle to see thousands of youth dancing and singing together. As I watched that joyful celebration, I kept saying to myself, “This is amazing! This is a miracle! How did this miracle happen?”
I marveled all that night at what I had seen. Then, the next morning at the temple dedication, I had a reunion with my Primary teacher, Sister Gloria Silveira. That was when I knew how the miracle had come about. As a new convert with no prior Church experience, Sister Silveira had come to Primary prepared to share her simple testimony and teach me the Articles of Faith in Portuguese. She and her husband, Humberto, are still faithful. They have served in many Church callings over the years, and they are still serving. When I saw Sister Silveira, I realized that the Church in Brazil had grown because of her and thousands like her. She and Brother Silveira represent people everywhere who have faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and His gospel. They have grown in knowledge and skill, and they have served in the Church (see D&C 88:80). They have shared the gospel with friends (see D&C 30:5). They work in the temple (see D&C 138:48). They taught their five children correct principles (see D&C 68:28). Of their 43 descendants, 15 have served full-time missions. Their grandchildren are now marrying in the temple, and their great-grandchildren are the fourth generation of Silveiras who are part of the marvelous work that was started by Joseph Smith. Because of them, faith has increased in the earth. They are an example of the miracle the Lord spoke about when He said that His gospel would be proclaimed by the weak and the simple (see D&C 1:23) and that by small and simple means great things are brought to pass (see 1 Ne. 16:29).

Alison touched her hair. Still wet, she thought, smiling. She gazed out the window of the car as it left the church parking lot. The Saturday afternoon looked brighter than usual. The trees seemed greener, the sky a deeper blue. I’ve done it! she told herself. I’ve been baptized.
She closed her eyes and relived the baptismal service in her mind. Dressed in white, she and her father sat on the front row of the chapel as the bishop spoke. “You will come out of the water cleansed from all your sins,” he said. “Then you can be confirmed a member of the Church and receive the gift of the Holy Ghost. If you keep the commandments, the Holy Ghost will be your constant companion and help you choose the right.”
Later, Dad stood waiting in the baptismal font. He took her small hand in his large one and guided her down the steps. The water was warm and clear. She looked up and saw her family and friends watching reverently. Mom smiled. Alison grasped Dad’s wrist with her left hand while he held her right wrist and raised his right arm to the square. She listened carefully as he said the baptismal prayer. Then she held her nose and her breath as he placed his right hand in the middle of her back and immersed her gently but completely under the water.
Warmth and peace surrounded her a moment before she was brought up out of the water by her father. Streaming water dazzled her eyes like diamonds. Through the glistening drops, she saw blurry faces smiling at her, and she smiled back. She felt so good, so clean—like a new person. She looked up at Dad. He smiled and hugged her close. She wanted to feel like this always.
After Alison changed into dry clothes, the family met in a classroom with the bishop. He and Dad put their hands on her head, confirmed her a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and gave her the gift of the Holy Ghost. Now Alison felt not only new and clean but strong, too, as if she could always do what was right, no matter what.
“So how do you feel?” Dad asked, breaking into Alison’s daydream.
She opened her eyes and grinned. “I feel good. I’ve never felt this good in my whole life. I’m never going to do anything wrong again. I’m clean now, and I want to stay this way.”
“That’s a wonderful goal,” Dad said, “but I’m afraid that we all make mistakes.”
I won’t, Alison thought, settling back into her seat. I don’t ever want to lose this feeling.
A couple of weeks later, Alison sat on the couch, studying the baptismal certificate the bishop had given her.
Tyler climbed up beside her. “Let me see it!” he demanded, grabbing the paper.
Alison held him off with an elbow. “This isn’t a toy. This is important.”
Tyler laughed and grabbed the paper as Alison jerked it away. With an ugly ripping sound, the certificate tore in half.
Alison stared a long moment in disbelief. Then a furious anger gathered around her like a storm. How could he destroy this precious thing! Tyler’s eyes were wide with fear and dismay, and Alison had a strong feeling that she should walk away before she did something bad. But she didn’t want to walk away. She wanted to get even. She let the anger rush in, filling her to overflowing, and she gave Tyler a push.
He tumbled off the couch. Before he could even catch his breath to let out his first angry howl, she jumped up and gathered him into her arms. The anger was gone, replaced by remorse and a sick guilt. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry.” Tears ran down her cheeks.
Mom and Dad came running in to see what was wrong. “I pushed Tyler on purpose,” Alison said. “I’ve only been baptized a couple of weeks, and I’ve spoiled it already.” She ran to her room, where she fell on her knees by her bed and prayed and cried a long time.
Finally the door opened and Tyler came in. “Don’t be sad, Alison,” he said. “I’m all right.”
Alison held him tightly. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’ll try to do better. I’ll try to be a good sister. Will you forgive me?”
Tyler gave her a huge, wet kiss on the cheek and a big hug. “I forgive you this much.”
Mom and Dad came in and sat down on either side of her.
“Alison,” Mom said, “your certificate can be replaced. That is important, of course, but that isn’t what is upsetting you, is it?”
“No—it’s that this time I messed up big time.”
Dad nodded. “We all do. The important thing is that we repent.”
Alison brushed away a tear. “How do I know for sure that I’ve repented?”
“Heavenly Father made it pretty simple,” Dad said. “First we need to recognize that we’ve done wrong and feel sorry for it. I think you’ve already done that. Then we need to ask forgiveness from the person we’ve sinned against and from Heavenly Father.”
Alison sighed. “I’ve been doing that.”
“Then we must try to make up for the wrong we’ve done.”
“I’m going to do something nice for Tyler every day,” Alison said. “I don’t want him to ever be afraid of his own sister. Is that all?”
“There’s one more thing,” Dad said. “We must try as hard as we can not to do the wrong thing again.”
Alison put her head on Dad’s shoulder. “I think the Holy Ghost tried to tell me not to push Tyler, but I wouldn’t listen. If He ever talks to me again, I’m going to listen.”
“He’ll talk to you,” Dad assured her.
“And I’m going to write down some ways of controlling my temper better, and work on them every day.”
Dad hugged her. “Good for you. If you do all those things, the Lord will forgive you and the Holy Ghost will be your Companion. Heavenly Father has promised it.”
“But I’m not clean anymore, and I wanted to stay clean forever. Can I get baptized again?”
“Well, no, but you don’t need to. The Savior knew that we’d make mistakes even after baptism, so He provided a way for us to be clean again. It always starts with sincere repentance, followed by something we do each Sunday in the chapel. Do you know what it is?”
Alison thought for a moment. “The sacrament?”
Dad nodded. “Right. When we’re baptized, we make covenants, or mutual promises, with God. One promise is that we’ll keep His commandments. Each Sunday when we take the sacrament, we renew those covenants. If we’ve repented of our sins, we become clean again.”
“Just as clean as when we were baptized?”
“Just as clean.”
The next day, Alison eagerly waited for the sacrament. She had followed the steps of repentance faithfully. When the sacrament came, Alison quietly put a piece of bread in her mouth. When the water came, she drank it reverently. A sweet peace filled her heart. Dad was right. She felt good again. Clean again.
Smiling, Alison reached up and touched her hair. This time it wasn’t even damp. But that didn’t matter—she was clean.

Smile. This small action can help those who are overwhelmed or burdened. During the priesthood session of this past April general conference, I was seated on the stand as one of the five newly called General Authorities. We were sitting where the sisters of the auxiliary presidencies are now seated. I was feeling very nervous and overwhelmed with my new call.

When we were singing the intermediate hymn, I felt a strong impression that someone was watching me. I thought to myself: “There are more than 20,000 people in this building, and most of them are facing this way. Of course someone is watching you.”

While I continued singing, I again felt the strong impression that someone was watching me. I looked over to the row where the Twelve Apostles were sitting and saw that President Russell M. Nelson was turned all the way around in his seat, looking at where we were seated. I caught his eye, and he gave me a big smile. That smile brought peace to my overwhelmed heart.

After His Resurrection, Jesus Christ visited His other sheep. He called and ordained twelve disciples, and with that authority, they ministered to the people. The Lord Jesus Christ Himself stood among them. The Lord asked them to kneel and pray. I am not sure if the newly called and ordained twelve disciples were overwhelmed with their calling, but the scripture says, “It came to pass that Jesus blessed them as they did pray unto him; and his countenance did smile upon them, and the light of his countenance did shine upon them.” During the last general conference, a smile lightened my burdens in an immediate and extraordinary way.

Since 2008, a team of local volunteers have coordinated a Christmas Day luncheon and festivities to ensure no one spends the day alone. This event enjoys fellowship from many different people including new migrant families, international students, those who have left unsafe homes, people experiencing financial challenges, empty nesters and those separated from family due to COVID border closures and other reasons.
Sister Anouck Van Dyck has been the chairperson for the last three years and said this event is a collaboration between local volunteers, the City of Joondalup Council and various businesses to ensure everyone knows they are loved and appreciated on this very special day. The Perth Australia Mission helps with this by providing a setup and pack down service and are now part of the official entertainment program singing carols to invite the Spirit of Christ into everyone’s hearts.
Of their involvement, Perth Mission President Michael J. Stone commented: “What a great delight to be involved in such a deserving community project during this special Christmas season.
“Our missionaries were thrilled to be of service and truly felt the spirit of Christmas as they worked and sang on Christmas Day to those in the community that might otherwise have had a lonely Christmas.
“We are grateful for the opportunity our missionaries have had to give to the community through work and song on Christmas Day. In serving others, their spirits were lifted towards the Saviour—a wonderful day and blessing for all.”

While in graduate school, Sister Neeleman and I, like many of you today, had to make do on a very meager income—so meager, in fact, that I could not see how we could pay our tithing and stay in school. Sister Neeleman, alarmed by my faithless attitude, insisted that we counsel with the bishop. The bishop, after listening patiently to my rationalizations, made me an offer I couldn’t refuse: “Pay your tithing each month, and if you don’t have enough to meet your other obligations, I’ll personally make up the shortfall.” I readily agreed to the bishop’s generous terms. But then he administered the coup de grâce: “Brother Neeleman, why are you so willing to trust me to meet your needs and so unwilling to trust the Lord?”

His words struck hard, knocking me firmly onto the path to a lifetime of tithing faithfulness. I have since learned that Bishop Goodsell’s ploy did not originate with him and is commonly used by bishops to encourage reluctant tithe payers. It nevertheless serves as a constant reminder to me that paying tithing is a matter of faith and trust and has priority over all other expenditures.

On my mission, I heard phrases like these from missionaries and members:
“You can’t be as spiritual after your mission as you were on the mission.”
“Take advantage of this time, because you’ll never get spiritual experiences like this ever again.”
“This is the one time in your life where you can truly consecrate your life to the Lord.”
With only a transfer left of my mission, I was afraid to come home after hearing messages like these. I was scared of who I would be after my mission. Could I have the same wonderful experiences I’d had as a missionary? What was I supposed to do if I couldn’t fully consecrate my life to Heavenly Father anymore?
I used to believe that I couldn’t be as spiritual after my mission—until I learned what it actually means to consecrate your life.
One day, after I returned home from my mission, I was sitting in an endowment session and listening to the covenants I was making. As I listened, the truth finally sank in that one of the covenants we make in the temple is, in fact, to keep the law of consecration.
I was stunned. Why would one of our covenants with Heavenly Father be to keep the law of consecration if, like I’d worried when I was ending my missionary service, it wasn’t something we could live up to?
It was then that I realized I’d misunderstood—we are all, as disciples of Jesus Christ, striving to live the law of consecration. The law of consecration is part of our covenants because God intended for us to live a consecrated life!
“The law of consecration is a principle the Lord gives to His covenant people. To live this principle, men and women dedicate themselves completely to building up God’s kingdom and ensuring there are ‘no poor among them’ (Moses 7:18). They give their time, talents, and material resources to serve the Lord, His Church, and His children.”
This simple explanation helped me realize what it means to live a consecrated life after my mission and for the rest of my life.
Consecration, I’ve realized, doesn’t mean sitting and reading my scriptures all day. Consecration means following God’s commandments and using my time and talents to create a life that glorifies Him.
Even though I wasn’t a full-time missionary anymore, I was living a dedicated and consecrated life—I was doing it by making God part of my personal decisions. Whether it was about work, school, or developing my personal talents, involving Heavenly Father in my choices brought joy into my life. As I continued to involve Him in my life, I realized that His plan for me didn’t mean having me be a full-time missionary for the rest of my life. Instead, He needed me to build His kingdom in other ways. And these ways are just as important to Him as full-time missionary service.
As Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught:
“When we look at our lives and see a hundred things to do, we feel overwhelmed. When we see one thing—loving and serving God and His children, in a hundred different ways—then we can work on those things with joy.
“This is how we offer our whole souls—by sacrificing anything that’s holding us back and consecrating the rest to the Lord and His purposes.”
I didn’t lose value as a daughter of God when I was no longer a full-time missionary. God valued me the same before, during, and after my mission. But now, because of my mission experiences, I have the spiritual maturity I need to continue my life in the direction God wants me to. Now I can confidently share my spiritual experiences with others.
Keeping your testimony strong after the mission can be tough work. But I truly believe that as I have put in the effort to continue to read my scriptures every day, attend the temple frequently, stay engaged in my ward, and keep Heavenly Father close to me through my decisions, I have been just as blessed with miracles and spiritual experiences as I was as a missionary.
I loved my mission, but I have found even greater joy being home and being part of God’s work in ways I couldn’t have anticipated. I feel like I am a better disciple of Christ than I’ve ever been as I have made God my priority. And this goal is possible for everyone!
That has been the true miracle—that there is growth and a wonderful future for all of God’s missionaries when they come home. God blesses our work as missionaries and returned missionaries as we put in the work to stay on His covenant path.

White Eagle stopped suddenly. He forgot the deer he had been trailing as he stared at a Conestoga wagon drawn up in the clearing. Instinct urged him to flee, but he was overwhelmed with curiosity. White Eagle had never seen the strange covered wagons except from a distance, and sometimes they were blurred by clouds of dust.
The Indian youth cautiously circled the clumsy boat-like vehicle. His dark eyes were glittering with excitement, but he was poised for instant flight. He had seen people traveling in wagon trains, one wagon behind the other, creeping like a string of ants across the plains. He wondered why just one wagon had stopped here. Was it abandoned? There were no horses nearby.
As he approached the rear of the wagon, he was startled by a sudden sound of crying. “If I had the sense of a groundhog, I would run away like the wind,” he murmured. His father, Chief Running Horse, had warned him about rashness many times. I’ll just peek inside quickly and then go, the bronzed youth decided, trying not to visualize his father’s stern and disapproving face.
Looking inside, White Eagle saw that it was a newborn baby who was making the strange crying sound. He stared from the baby to the young mother lying still. White Eagle wondered if she were dead, but her eyes opened in terror when White Eagle touched her feverish cheek with his cool hand. He quickly backed away and spread his hands apart, signaling that he meant no harm to her and the infant.
“Water … water. Please!” she whispered. White Eagle could not understand her, but her hot cheeks and cracked lips showed her need. He knew that the river was nearby, but White Eagle had nothing in which to carry water. He tried to convey this message by motioning with his hands.
The young mother weakly pointed to a round-top trunk near the front of the wagon. Then she made motions of drinking. Water in a box? She must be delirious from the fever.
Lifting the trunk’s lid, White Eagle found a shallow tray filled with small bundles. He handed one of the bundles to the sick woman and watched as she unrolled the cloth, revealing the most beautiful drinking vessel he had ever seen. Pretending to sip from it, she motioned outside and tapped the side of the wagon. Of course! She meant the barrels lashed to the wagon. White Eagle dashed out to a barrel and brought water in the cup. He lifted her head to help her drink.
Wonder filled his face as he looked at the delicate china cup. It was snow white, light as a bubble, and decorated with bright pink flowers. Gleaming gold scallops were all around the top. How he wished that he might have such a treasure! But he knew that it belonged to the woman; so he carefully placed it nearby where it would not be broken.
The woman grew more tired and visibly weaker as she tried to tell him by sign language what had happened. White Eagle understood that they had missed joining a wagon train because the young mother had become ill. After one horse ran away, her husband took the other horse and rode for help.
White Eagle’s scalp prickled with dread as the woman kept pushing the baby toward him. She wanted him to take her baby to his people! How could White Eagle make her understand that she was asking him to do something impossible? He was alone in the forest without food or weapons as a test of approaching manhood. If for any reason he went back before his allotted time, both he and his father, the chief, would be disgraced and White Eagle would fail his survival trial and prove himself unfit to be a brave!
Several times White Eagle prepared to leave, but he could not. Both mother and child would surely die without his help. Why had he, White Eagle, been saddled with such a problem? Had he already failed the test by having contact with the ill woman? Would he be forced to leave his tribe in disgrace?
Remembering the difficult days and nights he had already endured, White Eagle sighed with despair, but he could not just go away and leave the mother and baby to die. He knew that his mother would know how to make the young woman well again. His aunt had a young baby and she could easily care for this child too. If only this were the last day of his test and he could seek help from his family. But White Eagle had three more days of survival before he could return to his people!
Suddenly the boy thought of a solution—a way he might get help without going to the village. Taking one of the horse blankets from the wagon, White Eagle climbed to the top of the bluffs beside the river and built a fire of green brush. A thick column of smoke soon rose high, and he began to signal. White Eagle sighed with relief as he finally sighted puffs of smoke rising in reply from across the plains.
The boy stayed beside the wagon, giving sips of water to the sick woman. When he heard horses approaching, White Eagle fled into the forest and watched from a distance as his uncle, Red Feather, and several other braves dismounted. Red Feather noticed White Eagle’s moccasin tracks. The braves will not harm the woman and child; they are now in good hands, the boy decided as he turned and left.
When White Eagle returned to his snares, he found the first two untouched, but his stomach rumbled with anticipation as he saw a rabbit caught in the third. He had not eaten since the evening before. Although he had prepared warm gruel from food in the wagon for the sick woman, White Eagle did not eat. According to the test, he was to provide and prepare his own food. The woman was very ill and had slept most of the time. No one would have known if he had cheated, but it was a matter of honor that he did not.
Rising at dawn three days later, White Eagle prepared to return to his people. He sorted and rolled his possessions in a deer hide, which when cured would make new moccasins and a shirt. He had come into the forest without food or weapons; he was returning with the deer hide, many small animal pelts, a bow, arrows, sharp bone knives and scrapers he had made, and a handsome claw necklace. He knew he had earned the bright feathers his father would thrust into his beaded headband—unless helping the white woman and child had violated the conditions of his test! That worry nagged at him.
A muted drumbeat signaled his approach as White Eagle entered the village. The women came out of their tepees and smiling braves watched as the youth approached the chief’s lodge. Small boys and dogs excitedly trailed along behind him.
As his father stepped out of his lodge, there was pride, not disapproval, reflected in the chief’s eyes. The tribe gathered around, and each one watched with respect as the youth opened his bundle and displayed the pelts and the weapons.
White Eagle stood straight and tall when his father began to speak. “An Indian brave may collect many feathers, but according to our laws he cannot wear them until he wins that right. White Eagle not only passed his test, but he showed compassion and saved two lives. We know this because we saw the grateful white man drive the wagon away only yesterday with his wife beside him and their child cradled in her arms. White Eagle has earned the right to wear the feather prized above all others—that of the golden eagle, which represents this bird’s great strength and courage.”
White Eagle caught his breath as the chief removed a magnificent fourteen-inch feather from his ceremonial headdress and tucked it into his son’s headband. From the feather’s white color and dark brown tip, the new brave knew that it was one of the thirteen tail feathers of the adult eagle. These prized feathers were considered to possess great medicine. White Eagle had not expected such an honor!
There were gasps of astonishment as White Eagle’s mother emerged from the tepee with a jewel-like drinking vessel balanced on a matching saucer, the gold trim glistening in the sunlight. She told White Eagle the cup was a gift to him from the young mother.
“Such a vessel belongs only to a chief,” White Eagle said, handing the delicate set to his father. “Someday when I have proved worthy, I will reclaim it.”

My beloved brothers and sisters of the great Church of Jesus Christ, I would like you to know how humble I am at this great opportunity. I kind of like Ed Gardner’s story. His wife is hard of hearing and she wore a hearing aid; as they sat one evening in the living room, and she was knitting and looking down, he looked out over his newspaper and, speaking about his wife, he said, “You know, I am just kind of proud of you.” And she looked up and said, “You know, I am getting tired of you, too.”

When our children were missionaries, they learned that when we stand as a witness of Jesus Christ, the Holy Ghost will confirm that testimony. One of our daughters had a golden investigator named JieLei. This young adult woman obeyed each new commandment she was taught, no matter how difficult. She was a student struggling to make ends meet financially, but she began paying her tithing when she learned about that law. Her part-time job required her to work on Sunday, but she had the courage to ask her employer if he could change her hours to another day so that she could attend sacrament meeting.
In spite of her diligence, JieLei still did not have a firm testimony of the Book of Mormon. Our daughter and her companion knew that she needed a witness from the Spirit to confirm its truth, so they prepared a lesson for her about the Holy Ghost. As they worked on it, somehow it didn’t feel quite right. When they prayed about it, they felt impressed to go a different direction, to give a lesson instead about Jesus Christ.
When the appointed meeting came, these missionaries began teaching JieLei about Jesus Christ. Tears started streaming down her cheeks. She kept asking, “What is this I am feeling?” Then they bore witness to her that it was the Spirit. Exactly what they had wanted to have happen did happen. It was then that our daughter remembered that one of the great roles of the Holy Ghost is as a testifier of Christ. Jesus Himself said, “The Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, … shall testify of me.” Our daughter realized that as she stood as a witness of Jesus Christ, the Holy Ghost confirmed it. We too can stand as witnesses as “we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ” and look to Him as the source for “a remission of [our] sins.”

Imad Telhami, an Arab Israeli entrepreneur, created a moral context and pursued the soul of leadership in a remarkable way. Telhami had experienced discrimination and marginalization firsthand in his life, and he had a burning desire to overcome those barriers and help people of all backgrounds grow and progress. In 2008 he started Babcom—Arabic for “your door”—an Israeli company that provides business process outsourcing services for customers in Israel and around the world. He sought to create a company that would employ men and women from every religious and ethnic group in Israel—Muslims, Druze, Christians, Arabs, and secular, religious, and ultrareligious Jews.

Telhami believed he could create effective teams with talented people while helping them work together to overcome barriers rooted in deep-seated cultural, religious, and historical differences. He believed strongly that these people could grow personally and would provide superior service to their customers.16

At the heart of Telhami’s strategy were four values:

Telhami learned that embedding these values into the hearts of his employees required sustained effort in assessing, hiring, training, coaching, mentoring, and building relationships of trust at Babcom.

The evidence over many years proved Telhami correct. At Babcom, people of diverse backgrounds worked well together, grew and progressed beyond their expectations, and provided higher-quality service at a lower cost than their competitors, all while working in a social environment in which anger, resentment, and conflict were prevalent and sometimes dangerous. Indeed, Babcom has lived through five wars since its founding. Babcom’s resilient culture was captured by one employee who said, “Babcom is the safe place.”18

A friend recently asked me for a Book of Mormon. When it came time for me to give it to him, I was afraid that it wasn’t a good time for it. As I prepared to give the Book of Mormon to him, a scripture kept coming to my mind: “I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ” (Rom 1:16). I know that “I’m Not Ashamed” (Jan. 1999) is what gave me the strength to follow through. If it wasn’t for this article, I may not have had the courage to introduce the Book of Mormon to him.
Sarah DaviesDouglasville, Georgia

When I was in high school, one of my best friends came up to me and said, “If you continue to be friends with Joanne, I won’t be your friend any more.” I was so surprised, but my decision was simple. I would continue my friendship with each girl. If Jackie shunned me because of my friendship with Joanne, it would be her decision. That never happened. Twenty years later, Joanne is the friend who still writes and sends Christmas cards and pictures of her family. I am so glad I didn’t accept Jackie’s challenge and lose a lifelong friend.
Vicki Nelson, 36Independence, Missouri