Gospel Story Finder

We envision your families gathered around the television or online to watch the proceedings of general conference at home. An alert mother and father sent me a copy of a picture they took at conference time. They observed the reaction of their then 18-month-old son, who recognized the features and voice of the speaker. The child started to throw kisses toward the TV. He wanted to come closer. So his thoughtful older sister quickly hoisted her little brother on her shoulders and brought him closer. Here is that photograph.
Yes, the image on the TV is mine, and those children are our grandchildren. In a few years this boy will be an elder endowed in the temple and ready for his mission. Later he will be sealed to an eternal companion of his choice. Can you see him one day as a husband and father, with children of his own? And one day he will say farewell to his grandfathers, with a sure knowledge that death is part of life.

Allow me to share some of the miraculous blessings from letters and accounts I have received over the past four years. A humble couple from Idaho met fear with faith when the Lord called them to Russia. They wrote the following acceptance letter: “No one would have imagined we would be called to this assignment. We have no idea how we will learn the language or manage to be of service, and although we accept with much trepidation, going completely on faith, we know that the Lord and His prophet know more than we do where we should serve.” Ten months later the Stockholm Sweden Temple welcomed 30 Saints from a small branch in Russia led by this couple from Idaho who had barely begun to learn the Russian language. The scriptures tell us, “God has provided a means that man, through faith, might work mighty miracles.” Thus, God’s work is carried out by His children, “that faith also might increase in the earth, … that the fulness of my gospel might be proclaimed by the weak and the simple unto the ends of the world.”

I had always just assumed that when you got into ninth grade, you went to seminary. So I was surprised when I received a call from the bishopric asking me if I wanted to enroll.
I thought, “Sure. Why not?”
The next thing I knew, it was the first day of ninth grade, and I was on my way to released-time seminary. I was pretty scared and not very excited. “Yeah,” I thought, “another church meeting to go to every day. What could my teacher possibly have to teach us every single day? And I was supposed to do this for four years? What if I didn’t know anyone in my class? What if I didn’t like my teacher? What if I just didn’t want to go?”
But I forced myself out the door of my high school and took that long trek to the seminary building. When I got there, I looked for my name to see which class I was in. I then waited for someone I knew so I wouldn’t have to be alone. Little did I know that in seminary you are never alone. I finally gave up waiting and went to class. As I walked into the classroom, I was greeted by a warm smile and a friendly handshake. That’s when things started to get better.
I took a seat, and as I looked around at all of the beautiful pictures on the walls, my friends started to come in. Friends! Now I could have fun.
Class finally started, and we all told a little about ourselves. Then the teacher, Brother Toma, introduced himself and told us about seminary—how important it was to come every day and how there would be gospel study, fun activities, and sometimes even treats!
I couldn’t believe how fast that class went by. It was so much fun; I didn’t want to leave. When the bell rang, I had to drag myself back to the school.
When I returned to school, I could instantly tell a difference. My school had never seemed so worldly before. I was amazed at how strong the Spirit had been in that seminary building, even on an orientation day.

Surfing. Sunbathing. Luaus. Hula dancing.
All these things might be what pop into someone’s mind when they think of Hawaii. But, consider this instead: ho‘ike (ho-ee-kay), a word that means “to show or exhibit.” To learn more about their heritage, the youth of the Honolulu Hawaii West Stake put on a ho’ike to tell the stories of how the Church came to the Polynesian islands.
The ho‘ike depicted a journey through Polynesia that honored their ancestors through song and dance and taught of the work of the gospel of Jesus Christ among the people of Polynesia. Through this performance the youth not only connected with their past, but they also grew closer to each other and the Lord.
“Through this experience, our young people have learned to respect and celebrate other heritages, strengthen relationships with one another, and develop talents many did not know they possessed,” said Harry Murray, the emcee for the event. “This labor of love was both challenging and fun, both educational and spiritual for all involved. The greatest lesson has been the realization that the gospel of Jesus Christ brings us all together despite our varied backgrounds and fosters attributes within us that are universal.”
For some youth this meant learning about their own ancestors, but for many it meant learning about another culture and its history.
“It was really fun to get together with other youth from other wards and learn about a whole new culture. It was great to help some of my friends honor their ancestors,” said Devon Tenney, 15, of the Aiea Ward. “We were also able to look to the past for strength. It was really inspirational.”
Devon was part of the group that represented Aotearoa, or New Zealand. Other islands represented that night were Tahiti, Tonga, Samoa, Hawaii, and Fiji.
“We learned the cultures’ songs and also their stories,” said Robert Landgraf, from the Nuuanu Ward. “It’s important that our ancestors were strong in the gospel, so we can follow their example.”
The ho‘ike helped youth learn about other cultures and customs and also strengthened their testimonies.
“The best part of the ho‘ike was that we learned that no matter where the gospel is, whether it is in Aotearoa, Samoa, or Tahiti, the gospel is the same and the Spirit is just as strong,” said Talia Fermantez of the Pearlridge Ward.
While the performance night was fun, the hours of rehearsal were what really brought these youth together.
“My favorite part was the practices because it really helped the youth get closer. We practiced with other wards, and we are closer now,” said Kalima Watson from the Kalihi Ward. “This experience shows the unification of our youth. We can all come together and do something amazing despite our diversities.”
Elder Yoshihiko Kikuchi of the Seventy was in attendance that night and shared his thoughts on the event. “We see today these faithful, young, wholesome, beautiful people demonstrating the Spirit of our Heavenly Father. It is pleasing unto Him today and is a glorious inspiration to us.”

“I felt like I was in a disaster movie,” says Alex V., 18.
It was 8:30 in the morning, but the sky above Paradise, California, USA, was dark and getting darker. Burning embers fell through the choking, smoke-filled air. Streets were gridlocked.
“Traffic lights would turn red and green, but no one was paying attention,” Alex says. “People were screaming and honking, not moving at all. Some of them started driving on the wrong side of the road.” And a wall of fire was rapidly moving toward them.
Alex called his mother: “The trees are exploding!” he said.
“You mean they’re on fire?” she said.
“No, they’re exploding! They’re bursting into flames, the whole tree at once!”
His dad told him to ditch the car and meet the family in a restaurant parking lot about two-and-a-half miles away, where he was waiting with his truck. Alex has severe asthma, and he didn’t have his inhaler. But he pulled over, said a quick prayer, and abandoned the car.
“When I started running,” he remembers, “I immediately felt safe.” He ran until he met up with his family, and eventually they escaped from the fire.
That was on November 8, 2018. Looking back today, Alex sees blessings that weren’t obvious at the time:
He had clear cell phone reception in areas that usually don’t receive service.
He had service throughout the evacuation, when service is usually so swamped it fails.
He felt peace about what he should do.
He was able to “run and not be weary” until he reached his family (see Doctrine and Covenants 89:20).
Like Alex, other Latter-day Saint teens who survived the destructive wildfire can now offer perspective on how they were actually blessed that day and in the days to follow. By looking beyond what they lost, they can also see what they’ve gained.
Alex, with his parents and sister Audrey, visits what remains of his family’s home.
Photographs by Richard M. Romney
Returning to the burned-out batting cage where he used to practice with his friends, he shows off one of the new uniforms donated to the Paradise High School baseball team. “After the fire,” he says, “many of the team members moved away, and we didn’t even have a field to practice on.” Those who remained, however, rebuilt the team and were still able to complete the season.

With the permission of President Jeffrey Holland and his lovely daughter, Mary, I’d like to share their story of several years ago. It is an example of what I have tried to say today—not truth in theory, but truth in action.
Brother Holland begins:
“One night I came home quite late from work. My nine-year-old daughter Mary seemed visibly distressed. … I asked if she felt all right; she nodded that she did; but I guessed otherwise. I waited as she got ready for bed. Sure enough, she walked softly into the living room and said, ‘Daddy, I have to talk to you.’ I held her hand and, as we walked into her bedroom, she started to cry.
“‘I was at Grand Central this morning and saw a ladies’ compact I knew Mother would love. I was sure it was quite expensive, but I picked it up just to admire it.’ More tears and struggle to get it all said: ‘It fell out of my hands onto the floor. I quickly picked it up, but Daddy, the mirror was cracked. I didn’t know what to do! I didn’t have enough money to pay for it, and I was all alone. … I put the compact back on the shelf and left the store. Oh, Daddy, I think I’ve been dishonest.’ And then she wept and wept.
“I held her in my arms as that little nine-year-old body shook with the pain of sin being expelled. She said, ‘I can’t sleep and I can’t eat and I can’t say my prayers. What will I do? I won’t ever get it out of my mind.’
“Well, Mother joined us and we talked quite a while that night. We told her that we were very, very proud of her honesty … and we would have been disappointed if she had been able to eat or sleep very well. I told her … the compact probably wouldn’t cost too much, and that we would go back to the store manager, tell him of the problem, and, between the two of us, cover the cost. If the compact was still there, [perhaps we could] buy it for Mom. That little cracked mirror could be a reminder for as long as she owned it that her little girl was unfailingly honest and spiritually sensitive. …
“The tears gradually stopped, her little body began to relax, and Mary said, ‘I think now I can say my prayers.’” (“The Excellence of the Actors,” unpublished manuscript, BYU faculty assembly, 1978.)

I loved the story “A Day to Decide” (Friend, November 2010). One Sunday during general conference I went to my grandparents’ house. General conference was going to start in 10 minutes, but I wanted to play on the computer. I had a feeling I shouldn’t turn on the computer, but I did anyway. After a few moments, I decided to turn off the computer and watch conference instead. After conference, my mom asked us questions about what we heard. I got every question right! I’m glad I decided to listen to conference.

This story took place in Kiribati.
Timeon climbed up onto the log above him. Then he put his legs over it and hung upside down.
“This place is awesome!” Natieta said from below.
Timeon and his friends had found the empty tree hut earlier that week. It was a great place to play! The beams holding up the roof were perfect to swing from.
“I bet I can jump all the way across—just like a monkey,” Timeon said.
“I’ll meet you halfway!” Toani said.
Timeon used his arms to swing his body forward. Then he leaped out toward the beam by his friend. He reached his hands out, ready to grab on.
But his fingers slipped! Timeon fell to the ground.
“Ouch!” Timeon said. His friends ran to help him.
“Are you all right?” Natieta asked.
Timeon tried to get up, but he felt a sharp pain in his arm.
“I don’t know if I can move,” he said. He tried not to cry, but tears rolled down his cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Timeon,” Natieta said. “We’ll help take you home.”
Timeon’s friends helped him across the island. The sun had nearly set by the time they got back to his home.
“What happened?” Mom asked.
“We were playing in the empty hut,” Toani said. “Timeon slipped from a beam he was swinging on.”
Timeon couldn’t even straighten his arm. It hurt so much!
Mom thanked Timeon’s friends for bringing him safely home. She helped him lie down on the mat and put soft pillows all around him.
Timeon was still in pain. But there were no doctors close enough to visit in the dark. What if it kept hurting all night?
Timeon heard a voice call a greeting from outside the house. “Mauri!” It was the missionaries.
“It’s good to see you, elders,” Mom said. “Could you please give my son a priesthood blessing? He hurt his arm and is in a lot of pain.”
“Of course.” Elder Aitu smiled at Timeon. “Would you like a priesthood blessing, Timeon?”
Timeon knew that priesthood blessings invited power from God to help and heal people. He had faith that Heavenly Father would help him. He nodded. “Yes, please.”
The missionaries placed their hands on Timeon’s head. They said his full name and blessed him by the power of Jesus Christ to feel better.
Soon Timeon’s arm didn’t hurt so much. He felt calm and peaceful. He was even able to fall asleep.
When he woke up, it was already morning. His arm still hurt, but not nearly as much as before.
“How do you feel?” Mom asked.
“Much better,” he said. “I think priesthood power is real.”
“I’m glad the blessing helped you!” Mom gave Timeon a hug, careful not to bump his arm. “Now let’s go get some help for your arm to make sure it heals.”
Mom helped Timeon get on a bike. Then she got on behind him. She took them to their neighbor, who could help.
Timeon smiled while their neighbor treated his arm. Priesthood power was a real power from God. And he was so grateful!
The name Timeon is pronounced “Si-me-on.” The island where he lives, Kiribati, is pronounced “Ki-ri-bas.”
Illustrations by Melissa Kashiwagi

This important truth was evidenced some years ago as a member of the Seventy was on assignment in Hong Kong. He visited a very humble ward that was struggling in many ways, unable to provide for its own needs. As the bishop described their situation, the General Authority felt the impression to have the members pay their tithing. The bishop, knowing their dire circumstances, was concerned about how he could carry out that counsel. He thought about it and decided he would approach some of the most faith-filled members of his ward and ask them to pay their tithing. The next Sunday he went to the Primary. He taught the children about the Lord’s law of tithing and asked if they would be willing to pay tithing on the money they earned. The children said they would. And they did.
The bishop later went to the adults in the ward and shared with them that for the past six months their faithful children had been paying tithing. He asked them if they would be willing to follow the example of these children and do the same. The people were so touched by the sacrifices the children were willing to make that they did what was necessary to pay their tithing. And the windows of heaven were opened. With the example of these faithful children, a ward grew in obedience and in testimony.

I should like to read portions of one received only a few days ago. I do so with the consent of the writer. I have deleted anything that might lead to disclosure of the parties concerned. I have exercised limited editorial liberty in the interest of clarity and flow of language.
I quote now:
“Dear President Hinckley,
“My husband of 35 years died recently. … He had visited with our good bishop as quickly as he could after his most recent surgery. Then he came to me on that same evening to tell me he had been addicted to pornography. He needed me to forgive him [before he died]. He further said that he had grown tired of living a double life. [He had served in many important] Church callings while knowing [at the same time] that he was in the grips of this ‘other master.’
“I was stunned, hurt, felt betrayed and violated. I could not promise him forgiveness at that moment but pleaded for time. … I was able to review my married life [and see how] pornography had … put a stranglehold on our marriage from early on. We had only been married a couple of months when he brought home a [pornographic] magazine. I locked him out of the car because I was so hurt and angry. …
“For many years in our marriage … he was most cruel in many of his demands. I was never good enough for him. … I felt incredibly beaten down at that time to a point of deep depression. … I know now that I was being compared to the latest ‘porn queen.’ …
“We went to counseling one time and … my husband proceeded to rip me apart with his criticism and disdain of me. …
“I could not even get into the car with him after that but walked around the town … for hours, contemplating suicide. [I thought,] ‘Why go on if this is all that my “eternal companion” feels for me?’
“I did go on, but zipped a protective shield around myself. I existed for other reasons than my husband and found joy in my children, in projects and accomplishments that I could do totally on my own. …
“After his ‘deathbed confession’ and [after taking time] to search through my life, I [said] to him, ‘Don’t you know what you have done?’ … I told him that I had brought a pure heart into our marriage, kept it pure during that marriage, and intended to keep it pure ever after. Why could he not do the same for me? All I ever wanted was to feel cherished and treated with the smallest of pleasantries … instead of being treated like some kind of chattel. …
“I am now left to grieve not only for his being gone but also for a relationship that could have been [beautiful, but was not]. …
“Please warn the brethren (and sisters). Pornography is not some titillating feast for the eyes that gives a momentary rush of excitement. [Rather] it has the effect of damaging hearts and souls to their very depths, strangling the life out of relationships that should be sacred, hurting to the very core those you should love the most.”
And she signs the letter.
What a pathetic and tragic story. I have omitted some of the detail but have read enough that you can sense her depth of feeling. And what of her husband? He has died a painful death from cancer, his final words a confession of a life laced with sin.

It was stuck, completely, 100 percent stuck. I couldn’t pull the knee brace up any farther, but I also couldn’t pull it down to get it off. The doctor came back in, and I had to explain my predicament.
“You’re bigger than I thought,” was his comment.
After successfully wrestling the next larger size up my leg, I was ready to leave. The doctor’s nurse stopped me and apologized for the doctor’s comment.
“I told him you just don’t say things like that to girls. He meant you are tall.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I get it all the time.”

Her path to baptism was not easy. Born in Togo, she first encountered the Church as a young girl but was prevented from being baptized by family members. As she got older, she moved to Accra Ghana, and with a friend decided that together they needed to find a church. “We decided to go to church because we really wanted to find God,” she said. “I began praying and would go into the bush and talk to the trees.”
One day, her friend came to her and said that he had found a church he wanted them to attend. Josey asked him which church it was and he said, “it’s the people who wear white and black.” She told him that she had been in that church before. “I know that it is a good church.”
Josey attended the church and felt as if she was where she should be. She began meeting with the missionaries and was soon baptized. “I found the Church again, and I am here. I have a family again, people that I love.” She is now a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and she wants everyone to know!

May I take a few moments at this session of our conference to discuss what I believe is perhaps the most misunderstood meeting of all the meetings that convene in the Church. I refer to the bishop’s court. I would like to begin by relating a story.
The brief episode I am about to relate is true, and the facts are accurate because those who were present will never forget them.
The hour was very late; the room was quiet except for the audible sobs of a young man who had just received the verdict of a Church court. Justice had taken its true course. There was apparently no alternative. The unanimous decision, following serious deliberation, fasting, and prayer, was excommunication.
After several minutes, a weary face looked up, and the young man’s voice broke the silence as he said, “I have just lost the most precious thing in my life, and nothing will stand in my way until I have regained it.”
The process leading up to the court was not an easy one. Certainly, courage is a most important factor for every person who has seriously slipped but wants to get back on the Lord’s side.
After the meeting was finished, the communications that followed the young man’s dramatic statement of hope for the future were so reassuring. From some there were firm promises of help during the ensuing months of continuing repentance; from others a pat on the back and a handshake, with an eye-to-eye assurance that conveyed a feeling of confidence and the hand of fellowship. There was complete knowledge among all present at that meeting that all could be regained in the life of this young man if it were done in the Lord’s way.
This young man had just taken his first giant step back. As an excommunicated member of the Church and with his heart determined to make things right, he was far better off than just a few days before with his membership record intact but carrying deceit in his heart that seemed to shout the word hypocrite with every move he made toward doing something in the Church.
This episode took place a few years ago. The young man’s pledge has been fulfilled, and in my opinion, no member of the Church stands on ground more firm than the man who has had the courage to unburden himself to his priesthood authority and to set things in order with his Master. What a relief to have once again the peace of mind that “passeth all understanding.”

Years ago, when my husband and I still had six of our children at home, we also had a foster home where we cared for elderly Alzheimer’s patients. At that time, we grew a large garden and preserved a lot of our food. One year we didn’t have access to peaches or pears, which were favorites of our family and especially good for the Alzheimer’s patients who needed soft foods.
I decided to pray about this need. I asked Heavenly Father to lead me to some inexpensive peaches and pears if He knew of some that were available. My hope was to find fruit that would otherwise go to waste.
A couple of days later, I drove my children to the church for a youth activity. A sister who was new in the ward approached me and asked me if I could use some ripe peaches. Her family had just bought a home with many peach trees in the yard, and there was more fruit than they could use. I was able to pick many boxes of peaches and preserve them at no cost.
Some time went by, and I didn’t find any pears. I reasoned to myself that Heavenly Father knew I was very busy getting the children settled in school and preserving the food from our garden and didn’t have time for the pears.
A few months later, after all the fruit was harvested, I was in the waiting room of my chiropractor’s office. As I sat there, a man came in and began talking with the receptionist. To my surprise, I heard him ask her if she knew anyone who could use some pears. He had bushel boxes of pears in cold storage and wanted to find a home for them so he could turn off the refrigeration for the winter. I was able to buy boxes of large, beautiful pears for only three dollars each—a highly discounted price compared with what I normally pay!
Heavenly Father answered my prayer from months before, and He also arranged for the pears to be kept cold until I had more time to preserve them.

When Leigh got home from school, she found her mother carefully going through a big cardboard box of clothes. “What’s that?” she asked her mother.
“Another box of things from the Ellers.” Her mother held up a green corduroy jumper and asked, “Do you like this one?”
Leigh nodded her head, but after rummaging through the box, she held up a red velveteen party dress with lace ruffles and said, “I like this one better.”
“That’s lovely, Leigh!” her mother exclaimed. “It hardly shows any wear at all.”
“Why do the Ellers give us their clothes?” Leigh asked, examining a white silk blouse.
Her mother looked up and reached out to stroke Leigh’s copper hair, then turned away and sighed, “Because we need them, Leigh, and the Ellers are kind enough to share with us.”
Leigh didn’t mind wearing the Ellers’ pretty clothing, even if it was used. Since the Eller girls went to a different school, no one in Leigh’s school recognized her “new clothes.” Leigh never told anyone about the hand-me-down box.
One day in school Mrs. Kratz, Leigh’s fourth-grade teacher, announced, “I want each of you to think about what you want to be when you grow up.”
All the children moaned—all except Leigh. Leigh had wanted to be a writer ever since she had first learned how to read.
“And,” Mrs. Kratz continued, “I want each of you to be prepared to tell us what you’ve decided in a little speech next Wednesday.”
“A speech!” Leigh gasped quietly. She had never spoken in front of a class before. What will I say? she wondered. What will I wear?
When Leigh got home from school that day, she tore through the house, frantically calling her mother.
“What’s the matter, Leigh?” her mother cried. “Are you hurt?”
Leigh explained breathlessly, “I have to give a speech in class next Wednesday.”
“A speech?”
“I have to talk about what I want to be when I grow up, and I have to do it in front of the whole class! I have to look my best so no one will laugh at me, and I don’t have anything to wear!”
Mother came down from the ladder where she’d been hanging some curtains that she had washed. “What about one of the dresses that the Ellers gave us?”
“Not hand-me-downs,” Leigh protested. “Not this time. For once can’t I have a new dress?” she pleaded.
“Well, perhaps we can afford to buy fabric to make you one,” offered her mother.
Looking at her feet, Leigh barely whispered, “Not a homemade dress. A new store-bought dress—like the Ellers wear. Just this once. Please.”
Mrs. Baugh knelt before her daughter, placed her hands on Leigh’s shoulders, and looked straight into her troubled eyes. “We can’t spend very much on a new dress, but we’ll go look Saturday.”
Leigh was ecstatic as she hugged her mother. Later that night Leigh lay awake in bed, thinking about a store-bought dress. She said “look,” Leigh reminded herself, not “buy.” But I have twelve dollars saved from babysitting, and with what Mother has, I should be able to buy a dress as nice as the Ellers wear. She drifted off to sleep, dreaming about her first trip to one of the fine dress shops in town.
But when Saturday came, they didn’t go to a fancy shop. They went to a factory outlet store that didn’t look much different from the local grocery store. Leigh tried to conceal her disappointment as her mother led her to a rack full of dresses her size. One by one, they pulled the dresses off the rack and held them up to Leigh, looking for the perfect one for her first speech. The dresses were nice but not special—just plain cotton-polyester dresses like Leigh had worn before the Ellers started sending their clothes. Leigh hesitated, then asked, “Where are the fancier dresses, Mother?”
“Oh, Leigh,” her mother sighed good-naturedly. “There aren’t any fancy dresses in here, and if there were, we couldn’t afford them.”
Leigh wandered to the front of the store and peered out the big plate-glass window. Across the street a little girl in a beautiful blue coat and hat was just leaving an expensive dress shop with her mother, who was laden with ribbon-tied boxes. Leigh turned toward the check-out counter in the factory outlet and watched the cashier stuff purchases into plain brown paper sacks.
Mrs. Baugh came up and put an arm around her daughter, then looked out the window at the store across the street. “Maybe someday, Leigh,” she murmured.
“Let’s go home and see if we can find something in the hand-me-down box,” Leigh offered, trying to smile. “The red velveteen dress with the ruffles is much prettier than any of these dresses.”
Back home, Leigh tried on the red dress and was as pleased with how it felt as with how it looked. The velveteen was wonderfully soft, and the red brought out the natural rosiness in her cheeks and the highlights in her hair. Her mother pinned a new hem while Leigh twirled about in her slip, planning her speech.
On Wednesday Leigh practiced her speech aloud one last time while her mother carefully pressed the velveteen dress. Leigh had never felt more confident in her life.
When she got to school, Leigh noticed Linnie Lubette staring at her.
“Is that a new dress, Leigh?” Linnie asked with a sneer.
“Yes,” Leigh answered. “I got it for my speech today. Are you all ready?”
“Of course,” Linnie answered. Then she took Leigh’s arm and jeered, “Didn’t I see that dress at my ward’s Christmas party?”
Stunned, Leigh pulled away and sat down as Linnie started snickering. Then Leigh remembered that the Ellers and the Lubettes belonged to the same ward. Cindy had probably worn the dress to their ward’s Christmas party. If Linnie had admired it, she would remember it. Leigh was embarrassed and wished that she had worn any of her other dresses.
Suddenly she heard her name called.
“Why don’t you go first, Leigh?” her teacher asked. “We’re anxious to hear about your career choice.”
Leigh slipped out of her seat and walked slowly to the front of the room. Before she even had a chance to gather her thoughts, her teacher spoke again. “My, don’t you look lovely today, Leigh. Is that a new dress?”
Before Leigh could respond, Linnie chirped, “It’s not new. It’s a hand-me-down from Cindy Eller.”
Leigh was mortified. Now everyone would know that she wore hand-me-downs! She hung her head to hide the tears that were welling up in her eyes.
The room fell silent.
Leigh felt her teacher’s arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “We’re both fortunate, Leigh. See this dress that I’m wearing? It’s a hand-me-down too.”
Leigh looked up for the first time and stared through tear-filled eyes at her teacher’s pretty blue dress. “You see”—her teacher turned to explain to the class—“I can’t afford many nice dresses like this. But my sister, who is a doctor, has many beautiful clothes. She shares them with me because she loves me.”
Leigh slowly turned her gaze from her teacher to Linnie, who was shrinking into her seat.
“I’m glad, Leigh,” her teacher continued, “that you have a friend who is kind enough to share her nice things with you. Now,” she said, going back to her desk, “tell us what you want to be when you grow up.”
Leigh cleared her throat. “I want to be like your sister.”
“A doctor?”
“No,” Leigh replied, smiling. “Someone kind enough to share with others.”

The young Scot looked one more time at his homeland. Besides his country, he would be leaving his friends, the church that he had served in, and his thriving bakery. Yet, he felt that he had to join the Saints in America. He yearned to hear the Prophet Joseph Smith and to feel of his spirit.
Richard Ballantyne was born August 26, 1817, in Whitridgebog, Roxburg County, Scotland, to David and Ann Ballantyne. To help support his family, he worked as a cowherd, a gardener, and a farm laborer.
When he was fourteen, Richard was apprenticed to a baker. He quickly learned the trade and was promoted to foreman. Several years later he had saved enough money to buy his own bakery.
During this time, Richard became active in the Relief Presbyterian Church. When he was twenty-one, he was ordained an officer in that church. Concerned about the religious instruction of children, Richard organized a Sunday School. However, questions about the Bible and Presbyterian doctrine plagued him. He spent long hours walking, meditating, and praying. The answer to his questions came when two young elders from a newly organized church across the ocean taught him the fulness of the gospel. In December 1842 Richard Ballantyne was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints by Elder Henry McCune in the Firth of Forth near Leith.
With his mother, two sisters, and an invalid brother, Richard boarded a ship with a large company of Saints and set sail for New Orleans. From there they traveled by riverboat to Nauvoo, a beautiful, growing city crowned by the nearly completed Nauvoo Temple.
Richard was to spend only a few years in Nauvoo. After the martyrdom of Joseph Smith in 1844, the Saints prepared to leave their homes and travel to the Great Salt Lake Valley. In charge of building wagons and carriages, Richard was among the last to leave Nauvoo. In September of 1846 he prepared to cross the Mississippi River.
As an officer in one of the companies of pioneers, Richard made rounds every night to see that all was well. One night he met Huldah Meriah Clark. He was attracted to her immediately. On February 18, 1847, they were married by Heber C. Kimball in Winter Quarters. Two years after leaving Nauvoo, the Ballantynes arrived in the Great Salt Lake Valley.
Richard set about building a home and planting a field of wheat. A hailstorm destroyed his crop, however, and he and his wife and infant son faced a winter with no income and little food. Despite these hardships, Richard was inspired with an idea, one that he could not ignore. He wanted to start a Sunday School for the children in the valley. With his bishop’s approval, Richard began construction on an adobe building in which to hold Sunday School. He worked long hours hauling sandstone and logs, plastering walls, and making benches.
At last it was finished. On December 9, 1849, the first Sunday School in Salt Lake Valley was held. Richard led the children in a song, said a prayer, read a short scripture, then began to tell the story of Jesus. Years later he declared, “I was early called to this work by the voice of the spirit, and I have felt many times that I have been ordained to this work before I was born, for even before I joined the Church I was moved upon to work for the young. Surely no more joyful nor profitable labor can be performed by an elder.”
For four years Richard planted crops, and for four years the crops failed. He resolutely continued with the Sunday School, though, and found peace and satisfaction in teaching the children.
Then a call came for Richard to serve a mission in Hindostan (India.) Though it meant leaving his wife and three small children, he accepted the call immediately. With Huldah’s support, he prepared to make the long journey.
Richard’s mission was to last three years. During all his travels and proselyting, he was always concerned for his children and their welfare.
After his return to Salt Lake, Richard again answered a call from President Brigham Young to serve a mission—this time to the Saints in his own valley. He and his companions visited the homes of the members, held special meetings, and taught repentance.
His love for children led him to organize the Eden School District. He helped build the log schoolhouse there and served as one of its first teachers. Richard became Weber County Commissioner and later served as a member of the Ogden City Council. As always, his work centered on helping children. Under his direction, more schools were built, educational standards were improved, and public health facilities were expanded.
He continued his work in the Sunday School, organizing programs in Salt Lake, Juab, and Weber counties. He urged training for teachers, and he helped develop music especially for children. From just thirty children in 1849, Sunday School membership had grown to over 116,700 in less than fifty years. Records and statistics were kept, study courses written, and music festivals held.
A highlight of Richard’s later years was his founding of a Sunday School for the Utah School for the Deaf and Blind. Watching a child read the scriptures in Braille gave him a special thrill. On his eightieth birthday, three thousand Sunday School children and teachers and four brass bands marched in a parade to honor him.
Richard Ballantyne had been farmer, baker, miller, carriage maker, publisher, merchant, lumber dealer, and teacher. Teaching, however, remained his first love. He believed that the greatest teaching would be done within his own family. Love of God and love of children had ruled his life and influenced the lives of thousands of children.

When Claire (name has been changed) was six years old, her parents divorced. In the years that followed, she witnessed many failed marriages as well as family members struggling with addiction, inactivity in the Church, and depression. Saddened and confused, Claire lost her confidence in family.
“I told myself that marriage was not for me,” she says. “But I was just hiding my fear that my future would be the same as what I had experienced.”
In addition to feeling distressed about her family situation, Claire felt alone. One day as a teenager, she fell to her knees in desperation and prayed, pleading to know if Heavenly Father was there. “When I ceased crying and speaking, I was overwhelmed with a burning feeling that was peaceful, strong, and so direct,” she says. “I knew Heavenly Father was there and would always love me and help me through my trials.”
The answer Claire received sparked a desire to increase her testimony and trust in God and His commandments regarding the family. She not only continued to pray but also read her scriptures, attended seminary, and kept the commandments.
Now Claire is married, and she is learning to face her challenges with faith. “I don’t worry whether it will be impossible to raise a strong family because my husband and I have decided to always nurture our testimonies, include our Heavenly Father and our Savior in our lives, and remember the undeniable truth of the gospel.”
For Claire, building trust in God began with a simple, sincere prayer. But what else can we do to build trust in Heavenly Father? Young adults from all over the world—each dealing with trials—share their experiences on how they have developed trust in the Lord and have learned to rely on His will, His way, and His timing.

After a divorce that was hard for me, I stopped going to church, and although my faith in God and love for him remained, I decided to lay aside the spiritual part of my life for a time. I married an inactive Latter-day Saint who nonetheless possessed an unshakable testimony. We rarely discussed religion, but whenever the subject came up, I made fruitless attempts to show him the error of his beliefs. He quietly listened, but his testimony remained intact. Then, through a family crisis, my heart began to change.

My father-in-law became very ill with cancer, and as death approached, he felt the need to express the importance of the Church to his children. Something about his simple testimony touched my heart, and I decided to find out for myself the truth regarding this church. I began by cross-referencing the scriptures, and found to my surprise that there were no inconsistencies between the Bible and the Book of Mormon. To me, the Bible was the precious word of God. I believed it without question. Could Mormon doctrine possibly be proven within the Bible? I set out to find the answer.
In going through my husband’s Church books, I came across A Marvelous Work and a Wonder by Elder LeGrand Richards. As I read it, I felt as if it had been written for me. I discovered New Testament scriptures regarding baptism for the dead and Christ’s mission during the time prior to his resurrection. I discovered Jesus’ words to Mary Magdalene at the empty tomb: “Touch me not; for I am not yet ascended to my Father.” (John 20:17.) Had he not returned to his Father immediately after his death? But I had used his words to the thief on the cross, “To day shalt thou be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:43) to prove deathbed repentance! I had read these same scriptures countless times before but had never really understood them. Now I realized I had been deceived about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
As I studied and prayed, I began to find answers to the questions I had quietly pushed aside. Finally, I knew that this church was the Savior’s church, and its doctrine was his doctrine. In 1984 I was baptized.
I am grateful the Lord waited so patiently for the moment when my heart would open so that his Spirit would lead me to the truth.

One day a couple of my friends were fighting about a girl in my grade. They wanted her to like them.
I told them, “Enough, enough!” and pushed them apart. I didn’t want them to hurt each other or stop being friends.
I wasn’t afraid I’d get hurt, but when I separated them, they got mad. “What are you doing in the middle of this?” they asked. I told them to chill out because I wanted them to be friends and Jesus wants us to be kind to each other.
They made up and stopped fighting over the girl.

Well, 180 youth of the Redmond Washington Stake decided to offer their help on a big project—constructing the basic shell of a new home for a Latter-day Saint family, and building a storage barn for a non-member family. Both families paid for the cost of construction or provided the necessary materials. For example, the Latter-day Saint family, Brother and Sister Warren and Jaydene Dazey and their six children, had used a portable sawmill to cut tree logs into the lumber needed for their house.
The project was planned as a youth conference and the youth were divided into two well-supervised teams so that both the house and the barn were under construction at the same time. There were a lot of details and a number of challenges to be met before the conference got underway—for example, the concrete foundations for the two buildings were poured in advance—but the result was worth the effort involved. In addition to the goodwill and friendships that the project generated, the youth had the opportunity to experience the joy and satisfaction that comes in serving others. Building the house and the barn helped build testimonies, and those testimonies were shared at a special sacrament meeting held on the Sunday following three days of hard work.