Gospel Story Finder

Meet Emmanuel Amore from the Bo Sierra Leone East Stake—a young man whose journey of transformation began with a simple invitation to church. In 2018 a friend welcomed him to a Sunday meeting, and Emmanuel’s heart was touched. Not long after, he chose to be baptized—a decision that placed the first stone in what would become a deeply personal path of spiritual and personal growth.
Since then, Emmanuel has made the Gathering Place his second home. Whether it’s playing on the sports teams, learning new skills, or diving into institute classes, he shows up with purpose. “I want to succeed both spiritually and temporally,” he says—and he’s putting in the work to make that happen.
A turning point came when Emmanuel noticed his brother learning masonry. Seeing the demand for skilled labor in his community, Emmanuel realized this could be his opportunity to make a difference. He began training, determined to develop a craft that could support his future. Today, he’s applying his growing masonry skills to find work and build something lasting—not just with bricks but with faith.
Emmanuel is still just getting started. His ultimate goal? To grow in personal righteousness and stay anchored in Christ as he builds a meaningful life, one stone—and one choice—at a time.

As we grow, everything we learn can be used by the Lord to bless someone, somewhere.
As a Scout I learned Morse code. Years later, while I was on my mission, an investigator came into sacrament meeting, and I felt inspired to write him a short note in Morse code which said something like, “Welcome to sacrament meeting. Happy to see you here!”
It turned out he was a radio operator, and it was a great delight to him to have somebody write him a note in Morse code. Imagine how happy I was when this investigator, with a big smile, said, “I’m so glad that you wrote me this message in Morse code!” I was amazed that something I had learned years earlier could help me on my mission to reach a certain individual in a particular way.
As we are open to new things and to learning in our lives, the Lord knows what we have learned and can use us to bless others. Morse code is a specific example, but if we are willing, the Lord can use us as instruments to bless the lives of others and bring joy to their lives and our own.

Merrell: Besides Indian and Three Warriors we have done Take Down and most recently Harry’s War. Would you like to hear the story connected with my doing Take Down?
Merrell: Kieth told me they probably wouldn’t use me on Take Down because the investors wanted someone with a big Hollywood name to help sell the film. My opportunity to do it began, strangely enough, when the BYU basketball team lost to the University of Utah. That night as I was trying to sleep, an arrangement of the “Cougar Fight Song” that I hadn’t heard before kept running through my mind. I finally got up, took a tape recorder, and dictated what I was hearing. A week later I orchestrated it, went to London, and at the end of the regular recording session, recorded the National Philharmonic playing my new “Cougar Fight Song.” It had a combination Star Wars-Rocky-disco sound and I loved it! I wanted it to be perfect because I planned to give it to Coach Arnold to help inspire his team to win.
Well, the day I returned to Utah I was in the studio listening to it and received a call from Kieth. He said, “Merrell, I’m totally frustrated; I’ve gone through composer after composer and no one strikes a bell. Do you have anything with a sports theme that sounds like Rocky and Star Wars combined?” I couldn’t believe it! I told him what I had and then sent him down a rough mix. After listening to it, he called in the investors and had them listen to it, and within three minutes they decided they wanted me to do the music for Take Down.
Later when Kieth talked to me, he said, “I don’t care what you do in the rest of the picture, but I want the end titles to sound like your Cougar song without the Cougar melody.” And that’s how close I came to getting the exact music he wanted before he had even asked me to submit a song. To me that was really a faith-promoting experience because I had been inspired several months earlier to be almost overwhelmed by a certain sound, write it down in the specific style Kieth wanted, record it, and have it ready the very day Kieth called.

Another time when I learned the importance of prayer was when I was preparing for my first piano recital. I was about seven years old, and I was very nervous. I was afraid I would forget the piece, and I was also worried that my hands would shake so badly that I couldn’t play.
My mother knew I was scared, and she suggested that before I go on stage to play, I bow my head and ask Heavenly Father to help me feel calm and remember what I had practiced. I followed Mother’s advice, taking a moment to pray right before I performed.
He answered my prayers, and I learned that Heavenly Father could help me at all times in my life, even during piano recitals! I started to realize that He could help me in school. I prayed and asked Him to help me study and learn and take tests.
A few years later, when I was ten, my family visited the Hill Cumorah and the Sacred Grove. I remember standing on the Hill Cumorah and listening to Daddy explaining exactly what happened there. Then we went to the Sacred Grove, and Daddy told us about Joseph Smith praying to Heavenly Father for the truth. Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ appeared to young Joseph, blessing him with the answer to his prayer. I knew that if Joseph could get answers, so could I.
Throughout my life, I have talked to Heavenly Father regularly through prayer. I am very grateful to my parents for teaching me that Heavenly Father lives and that He always listens to us. He listens to me, and He listens to you. I know that He will always be there for you.

Let me tell you of an important event that we have had in the Church in the last few months. Not too far from Church headquarters, in Idaho, there was a great tragedy. A great earthwork dam collapsed. There were 17 miles of water backed up in the canyon behind the dam. All of that was loosed on the valley below. It was a beautiful, quiet, sunny Saturday morning. Just below in the valley were two or three little communities—7,800 people in all. A few miles farther down the valley were another 25,000 to 30,000 people, almost all of them Latter-day Saints. All were going about their work, getting ready for Sunday.
The first place the water hit was the Wilford Ward area. It was washed away, all of it: all of the houses, all of the barns, all of the fences. The ward chapel was completely destroyed. The ward was gone, just like that.
Then the water hit Sugar City. The same thing happened. Sugar City was gone. The stake center stood and a few of the houses, but they were terribly damaged. The water broke into the wall of the stake center and picked up all of the benches and just tore the inside of the building out. Then it broke out the other wall and went on its way.
In all, 790 homes were destroyed. Many of them vanished without a trace. Some places you could see a cement foundation. Another 800 homes and many businesses and churches and schools were badly damaged.
Now you are wondering about the people, about the 25,000 Latter-day Saints, all in the face of this flood that Saturday morning. Very few died by drowning. Only six. That is a miracle. An expert said that 5,300 should have perished.
But only six died by drowning. How could that be? They couldn’t just run upstairs and get on the roof and be safe, because the houses were washed away. They couldn’t just run up on the hill—most of them had several miles to go before they reached safety. Then how were they saved? There was a warning. It was only a short one. Some of them only had a few minutes. But there was a warning. And Latter-day Saints pay attention to warnings. If we are living righteously, we are easily warned. And so, the word went out just before noon that the dam was beginning to crumble. Those who heard obeyed the scripture. Let me read another verse or two from the Doctrine and Covenants.
“Behold, I sent you out to testify and warn the people, and it becometh every man who hath been warned to warn his neighbor.” (D&C 88:81.)
And that is what happened in Idaho. Some of them heard, and they began to warn their neighbors. Now how did they do that? Call them on the telephone? “It’s a beautiful day today, a nice day for a ride. Do you think you would like to go over to Rexburg some time this afternoon and visit the college? It’s up on the hill. Oh, you are too busy. Well, you think about it, and I’ll call later this afternoon.” No! no! That isn’t the way it was! If they got them on the phone they didn’t speak, they screamed: “The dam is breaking! Get your children! Get to high ground!” They ran from neighbor to neighbor. And they knocked on the door, and if no one would open, they kicked the door down or smashed in the window to warn them.
Only six drowned. What about them? One was a fisherman just below the dam. He had no warning. Two people heard the warning but didn’t believe it. They were found in their car, but they had moved too late. Three others heard the warning but went back to get some of their possessions. Latter-day Saints pay attention to warnings.
There are pages of miracles that took place individually. One young man was in town when he heard the warning. He knew that his parents were not at home out on the farm, but his little sister was there, and she was sick in bed. When it was all over, she had been saved.
One father was at the college in Rexburg doing some work that Saturday morning; someone knocked on his door and said, “Turn on your radio; I’ve heard that the dam is breaking.” He thought of his wife and the boys out irrigating on the farm. And he had the car. There was no time for him to go. When it was all over with, his wife and his children were there with him, warned and rescued by the neighbors. Now there is a great message in this.

Hadley Peay is now seven years old. Hadley was born with a very serious hearing impairment requiring extensive surgery to bring even limited hearing. Her parents followed with tireless training to help her learn to speak. Hadley and her family have cheerfully adapted to the challenge of her deafness.
Once, when Hadley was four, she was standing in the checkout line at the grocery store with her mother. She looked behind her and saw a little boy sitting in a wheelchair. She noticed that the boy did not have legs.
Although Hadley had learned to speak, she had difficulty controlling the volume of her voice. In her louder voice, she asked her mother why the little boy did not have legs.
Her mother quietly and simply explained to Hadley that “Heavenly Father makes all of His children different.” “OK,” Hadley replied.
Then, unexpectedly, Hadley turned to the little boy and said, “Did you know that when Heavenly Father made me, my ears did not work? That makes me special. He made you with no legs, and that makes you special. When Jesus comes, I will be able to hear and you will get your legs. Jesus will make everything all right.”
Hadley knew enough.

One night as I was watching the news, something caught my attention. I recognized the reporter as a college classmate. She had achieved her dream of being a newscaster!
“What about me?” I asked myself. “What have I achieved?” I looked at the baby asleep in my arms and thought about the events of the past three years.
I had always thought I would have a career, but when my husband, Charles, and I had our first daughter, Chevy, my priorities changed. I quit my job to care for her. We had faith in Jesus Christ that as long as we paid our tithing and obeyed the commandments, everything would be OK.
Things were going smoothly until, one day, Charles was laid off from his job. We had faith we’d be all right, but we knew we needed to act. We decided I should get a job too, so Charles and I started job hunting. After a few weeks, I was hired at a call center. I hated leaving my nine-month-old with a babysitter every day, but it was our best solution.
Just a month into my job, I found out I was expecting. Fortunately, Charles soon found a job. It didn’t pay much, but it would help. For a while we felt relieved.
My pregnancy became very difficult, and I had to quit my job. At my monthly checkup, we were shocked to discover I was having twins. Charles and I were scared, but we trusted Heavenly Father.
About three and a half months into my pregnancy, I woke up bleeding. I thought I was having a miscarriage, so I went to the hospital. The babies were OK, but the doctor put me on bed rest for the rest of the pregnancy.
Things were becoming so complicated. The hospital bills left our bank account empty, and Charles’s meager income was not enough to provide for our needs. I felt worthless. I could not help earn income or take care of Chevy. I sometimes forgot that I was carrying two special spirit children. I pleaded every day and night with my Heavenly Father for relief. I was terrified of what else could go wrong. But one thought kept returning to my mind: Heavenly Father lives and He knows our needs.
Charles was struggling too, but he stayed strong. He assisted me and cared for Chevy on top of his job. His priesthood blessings comforted me, and his love strengthened me. We were scared, but we faced this new test together.
I did my best to accept the situation. Instead of moping around, I read the scriptures, Church magazines, and good books. I sang hymns too—“How Firm a Foundation” (Hymns, no. 85) in particular made a huge difference. I came closer to my Savior. I realized how much I did have to be thankful for despite our circumstances.
As days went by, we felt God’s hand work in our lives. Big and little miracles popped up everywhere. Our families and friends paid for some of our expenses. I felt their love and concern for our family. The Relief Society presidency assigned one or two sisters to visit me each day. They brought groceries, cooked and cleaned, took care of Chevy, shared spiritual thoughts, and cheered me up. They prayed for my recovery and the continued safety of the twins. We never went hungry. These sisters didn’t know how much their service helped me carry my burden. When the time came, Heavenly Father made my delivery very easy, and both girls were healthy.
Years have passed since that challenging time in our lives, but there hasn’t been a day when we haven’t felt God’s love. Our financial situation is much better now, and our children are growing up to be smart and talented. We are stronger and better prepared for future challenges because we know that Heavenly Father blesses His children in His own time and will never leave them helpless or comfortless. Life is not an easy journey, but God will always be with us and guide us.

On Friday, October 28, 1588, having lost its rudder to being governed solely by oar, the ship La Girona, belonging to the great Spanish Armada, collided with the rocks of Lacada Point in Northern Ireland.
The ship capsized. One of the castaways struggling to survive wore a gold ring given to him a few months earlier by his wife with the inscription, “I have nothing more to give you.”
“I have nothing more to give you”—a phrase and a ring with the design of a hand holding a heart, an expression of love from a wife to her husband.
Just as the ring was recovered from that shipwreck, when we give our hearts to God, we are rescued from the raging seas of this life, and in the process we are refined and purified through the Atonement of Christ and become “children of Christ,” being spiritually “born of Him.” Of this I testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Lindsay felt nervous as she looked around the hospital room. She knew that soon someone would come to take her to the operating room for surgery. Mom and Dad stood close to her bed.
A few days before, Lindsay’s family had had a special family home evening. Mom gave a lesson about priesthood blessings. Then each member of the family told about a time when he or she was blessed by the power of the priesthood. Lindsay felt peaceful and happy as she listened to their testimonies. Mom explained that the peaceful feeling was the Holy Ghost telling Lindsay that what she was hearing was true.
At the end of the lesson, Lindsay’s older brother, who held the Melchizedek Priesthood, put a drop of consecrated oil on her head and said a prayer. Then Dad gave her a wonderful blessing. He said that Heavenly Father knew and loved her. He said that the doctors would be blessed in their work and that the surgery would go well. He also promised that Lindsay would have a special feeling of comfort and peace that would replace her fears.
Waiting in the hospital, Lindsay tried to be brave, but tears slowly leaked from the corners of her eyes. Two men in hospital clothes came into her room and said it was time for the surgery. They were kind as they tried to cheer her up, but still Lindsay’s fear did not go away.
Lindsay hugged Mom and Dad from her bed. Then one of the men pulled up the railing on her bed so she would be safe as they wheeled her down the hall. As Lindsay turned to see what he was doing, she saw a familiar silver ring on his finger. A warm, peaceful feeling filled her heart as she saw the letters CTR on the ring. Lindsay smiled as her fears slipped away. She knew that everything was going to be fine.

President Kimball, President Hinckley, Brethren, and my dear brothers and sisters, this afternoon I feel somewhat like a former Chief Justice who explained his feelings on his ninety-fifth birthday anniversary. In his mind he rationalized, “It’s just another birthday like all the others.” But as he stood to acknowledge the occasion, his words revealed a love of life, a love of his work and of his fellowmen. He said:
“I have warmed both hands before the fire of life. … The rich spoils of memory are mine. … Mine, too, are the precious things of today. … The best of life is always further on. Its real lure is hidden from our eyes somewhere behind the hills of time.” (Lillian Eichler Watson, ed., Lights from Many Lamps, New York: Simon and Schuster, 1951, pp. 267–68.)
Like that grand old man, I love life. I love the work in which I have been engaged for the past nine and one-half years—the demanding, intense, but beautiful work of Relief Society. It has been so sweet to me that it has seemed but a fleeting moment in time.
As I stand at this point of transition, a montage of memories crowd my mind—of family, my good husband supporting and patiently waiting for me, of my children and their mates struggling to arrange their busy schedules to meet mine, and of grandchildren often being my examples; of the women with whom I have worked—a kaleidoscope of images, experiences, and impressions come to me of them.
I see my devoted, talented, loyal counselors, Marian R. Boyer, Janath R. Cannon, Shirley W. Thomas, and Ann S. Reese, and my secretary-treasurer, Mayola R. Miltenberger, all of whom I dearly love. I see the brilliant, gifted women who have served with me on the Relief Society General Board. And there is my personal secretary and the dear women of our staff, the hostesses who serve in the Relief Society Building, our public communications representative, Moana B. Bennett.
I also see the faithful stake and ward Relief Society leaders and the many, many sisters who comprise the membership of the Relief Society throughout the Church whom I have come to know and appreciate.
At this moment, I can only echo President Kimball’s words: “God bless the women—the wonderful, wonderful women!” (“Women, Wonderful Women!” Relief Society Magazine, Jan. 1958, p. 8.)
Certainly I have warmed both my hands at the fires of their lives.
I have seen nobility emerge as I have observed them overcome personal sorrows, disappointments, and tragedies. I have witnessed their compassion and loving ministrations toward their families and toward their neighbors.
I have savored their creativity, rejoiced in their achievements, and shared their joyous moments.
I have felt the strength of our sisterhood as we have met in Sunday Relief Society meetings, in women’s area conference meetings, in socials, and in significant historical events such as the memorable occasion in Nauvoo, the birthplace of our beloved organization, where we memorialized that event with a beautiful garden of monuments to women.
I have read how Relief Society observed its fiftieth year with a great gathering of sisters in this Tabernacle. President Zina D. H. Young addressed the congregation and exclaimed:
“O that my words could be heard by all people, not only by you my brethren and sisters in this Tabernacle but that they might be heard and understood by all the people of this continent, and not only this continent, but the continents of Asia, Africa, Europe and the islands of the sea.” (Minutes of the Relief Society General board, vol. 1, 17 Mar. 1892, p. 225.)
I have come to feel that this may have been more than just a wistful expression of a great former leader. Perhaps it was instead a pleading with the Lord for a time such as this. Let me explain:
When I was a little girl I participated in a program here in the Tabernacle. At that time an impression came to me that I have never forgotten, even though I did not understand it then. I was filled with an awareness that sometime I would stand before a vast congregation of the Church in this building.
I thought this vision of my childhood was realized in the 1974 Relief Society conference when I was sustained as the general president of the Relief Society. But now I feel certain that this is the day I saw. And perhaps because of prayerful people like President Zina Young our voices are heard proclaiming the truths of the gospel to all the world, truths that can be transmitted into the very hearts and minds of people who will listen and try to understand.
In that spirit I am proud to testify today that our prophets and Apostles are men called of God. They will always lead the Church aright by divine direction and by the power of the Holy Ghost.
The women of the Church have an important work to do. That work requires great strength of character, faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, and a pure heart that will be a light unto the world and a bulwark of righteousness against the darkness that covers the earth with contention and evil.
In all humility I declare my ever-expanding love for you. I assure you, too, that I deeply love our newly called and sustained general president of the Relief Society. I know Relief Society is in good hands. It will continue to grow and move forward in countless ways to bless the lives of all of the daughters of God.
I know this is true. I feel it with every fiber of my being, just as I know that God lives, that Jesus is the Christ, our Savior and our Redeemer.
May we all make the most of every moment of our lives, that somewhere beyond the hills of time we will be with them again, I humbly pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

“Get up, Kevin.”
I looked over to the other side of the room at my brother’s bed. He lay asleep, curled up tightly in the blankets against the cold. This morning ritual began a year ago when Dad had traded half the rabbits, complete with cages, for a milk goat named Colleen. It was my job to milk her while Kevin fed her and cleaned out her cage.
“What time is it?” Kevin asked as he got up and dressed, noticing the light filtering into the room.
“It’s six-thirty.” I was fully clothed and standing by my dresser, putting on my coat and knit cap. The coat smelled of alfalfa hay and dried milk.
“Hi, Mom,” we said in unison as we walked downstairs. I opened the back door, grabbing the clean steel milking pail on our way out. As we walked toward the barn, we noticed that water from the lake had vaporized into a thin fog that drifted across the nearby horse pastures. The ground, just beginning to thaw, felt like thick peanut butter on our boots.
“Kevin, what do you want for your birthday?” I asked. For the past two days I had been trying to think of what to get my seven-year-old brother. I didn’t have any money to buy a present, and there was no snow to shovel to earn a few dollars, either.
“I don’t know,” Kevin said as he scooped up some alfalfa pellets with a cut-out bleach bottle and poured them into a container by Colleen’s milking stand. “Why don’t you do my chores for me tomorrow morning?” He was referring to a tradition in our family—if it was your birthday, other members of the family did your chores for you.
“OK.” But I wanted to get him something else, something more than what was done traditionally.
“Tim and Kevin,” Dad called, “it’s time for breakfast.”
After leading Colleen back to her pen, we carried the milk into the house and placed it on the counter, then sat down to eat. The steaming cereal, cooled by yesterday’s milk, tasted sweet because of the addition of honey and raisins.
“Time for school,” Mom said when we had finished eating. After grabbing our schoolbooks, we returned to the living room for family prayer, then left for school.
Kevin’s elementary school was just under two miles away, while I only had to walk a half-mile to the middle school. Each day Kevin silently wished we lived a quarter mile to the south, making him eligible to ride the school bus that picked up many of his classmates. On most mornings, we witnessed them entering the bus at the beginning of its route. Kevin would stop, watch for a moment, then continue walking, most of the time arriving at his school long after the bus had dropped off its passengers. It was a cruel part of his day, especially on snowy or really cold winter mornings.
“See you later,” I said, watching him walk away when we reached my school.
All day I thought more about his birthday. I remembered last summer, when he had weeded all of the neighbor’s vegetable garden to earn money to buy me a present. It was a small, single-bladed pocketknife he had bought secondhand at a thrift store. He had removed the rust with steel wool, then shined the blade and the handle with silver polish.
That night when I said my prayers, I asked Heavenly Father to help me find Kevin a gift.
After a fitful sleep, I awoke before the morning light had entered our bedroom. I dressed quietly in the darkness and glanced over to see Kevin wrapped in his blankets. I tiptoed downstairs and outside.
The landscape had changed from the morning before. A snowstorm had arrived, and the snow blew around me. A little blew into the house before I could close the door. I hurried to the barn, wanting to complete the morning chores quickly.
Just as I finished, I noticed something tucked into a corner of the barn. I hadn’t seen it since the summer before, and it gave me an idea for Kevin’s birthday.
I quickly ran back to the house to drop off the milk, grabbed a bucket of warm, soapy water and some old rags and carried them out to the barn. The dust of a winter and the rust from the dampness made cleaning difficult, but I kept working. Finally the call for breakfast came.
The smell of bacon and pancakes, food reserved for Sundays before church and other special days, met me at the door. We sat and ate, Kevin happy because of his seventh birthday, and me nervous, hoping he would like my present for him.
“Time for school,” Mom said as Kevin finished the last pancake. After family prayer, we went out into the gray snowstorm.
“Kevin, I have a present for you. It’s in the barn.” He followed me around the house and into the barn.
There stood our old red wagon, washed clean, then polished with car wax I had found on a shelf above the alfalfa pellets. A small wool blanket covered the bottom, and on the side of the wagon I had carefully painted “School Bus” with some old house paint.
“Get in, Kevin. You don’t have to walk to school today. This is your bus.”
His face lit up, and he scrambled in. I put another blanket around him so he would keep warm.
I pulled the wagon out of the barn, past the house, and onto the snow-packed road. Mom and Dad stood on the porch, watching the delight on Kevin’s face.
“Everyone off!” I yelled as we pulled onto the sidewalk just in front of the entrance to Kevin’s school. I tried to sound like a bus driver, and he laughed with me at my attempt. I hurried back down the road with the wagon, and once I arrived at my own school, I hid it in some bushes.
When the final bell rang, I ran outside, rescued the wagon from the bushes, and hurried back to the elementary school.
I arrived just after the bell rang, and saw Kevin with two excited friends. “Tim, can they come with us?”
“Sure,” I said. “Everybody ‘booooard,” I yelled like a bus driver. Kevin climbed in first; the other two squeezed in behind him.
By the time I pulled the wagon to the second boy’s home, I was really tired.
“Tim, I’ll pull you the rest of the way home,” Kevin offered.
“No, it’s your birthday. I want to do this.” That night as I got into bed, I felt too tired to pray. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d been more tired. My legs and back ached, and my hands were sore and blistered from gripping the wagon handle. I lay in the darkness, thinking about the presents Kevin had received from Mom and Dad, Grandma and Grandpa, and me. Just before I drifted off to sleep, I heard “Tim?”
“Yeah.”
“Out of all the presents I got today, yours was the best.”
“Thanks,” I said. Then I remembered my prayer from the night before. I crawled out of bed, knelt on the cold wood floor, and thanked Heavenly Father for helping me find my brother a birthday gift.

Several years ago I was riding on a train from Edinburgh, Scotland, to Glasgow with a noted British lawyer. We had engaged him to present our claim of discrimination by the city council of Glasgow. We were seeking a building permit, which had been repeatedly denied by the city council at the instigation of an opposing ministerial group as not needed inasmuch as there was an abundance of vacant or unused church buildings. We had been granted a hearing before the secretary of state for Scotland, a member of the prime minister’s cabinet.
As the early morning train sped toward Glasgow, I asked the distinguished counsel if he had any additional questions about our church. I was concerned about his limited understanding of our expansion, of why we were building modern church buildings and why we had hundreds of missionaries in Great Britain. He assured me that he was quite comfortable in representing us and presenting our case that to him appeared to have merit.
As we discussed other aspects of our growing presence in Great Britain, he said, “I hear, but it couldn’t be true, that you baptize for dead people.”
I said, “Yes, it is true—not only true that we do it today, but the eternal principle of vicarious service of baptism for the dead was taught during our Savior’s earthly ministry.”
I explained that all of God’s worthy children of all ages can become heirs of salvation in His kingdom. I briefly reminded the lawyer of Jesus teaching Nicodemus that “except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.
“Nicodemus [said] unto him, How can a man be born [again] when he is old? can he enter the second time into his mother’s womb, and be born?
“Jesus answered, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God” (John 3:3–5).
I also made reference to the early Apostles’ teachings regarding Christ’s resurrection and the resurrection of all, including Paul’s great statement: “Else what shall they do which are baptized for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? why are they then baptized for the dead?” (1 Cor. 15:29).
The engaged lawyer seemed comfortable. He presented our case effectively. We won our building permit. The chapel now stands in Glasgow, Scotland.

I kept hearing the words of the doctor. Looking kindly at the room full of elderly people, he had told us that, if we thought there was nothing to get out of bed for, we were dying. If we were living, we needed to get up, feed our body, keep it clean, and exercise it.
I was past eighty. I didn’t want to get out of bed. But it was Thursday, and I hadn’t yet fulfilled my weekly temple assignment. The evening news had been more distressing than usual. I was troubled about some family matters. My house and yard took what little physical strength I had. Helplessness, indecision, and my aging body frustrated me. Finally, I decided to leave this world for a few hours and go to another—the temple.
When I arrived at the temple, I sat for a while and quietly absorbed the feeling around me. The sister on my left was young and beautiful, with golden, shoulder-length hair. She smiled. The sister on my right seemed even older than I was. She smiled. I felt I was with friends.
Suddenly, I knew what had been depressing me. Satan is very real, and he is here on this earth to hurt and mislead everyone he can. It struck me with startling force that he would hurt even a little old lady, and that he had been hurting me. I felt peace and a closeness to the strangers beside me.
I saw that the power of Christ is stronger than Satan. I knew I had agency and could receive peace if I would seek it. My uncertainties and the problems of growing old drained out of me. My mind grew quiet and confident. I knew I was capable of handling all the decisions I needed to make.
I sat up straighter and felt happy. My friends beside me also seemed to feel the surging spirit that filled the room. The spirit testified that Heavenly Father lives. I knew then that the problems of life have purpose and help us choose right or wrong, good or evil, joy or sorrow. I knew that Jesus Christ lived on earth and is living now—and that through him I can be redeemed from my mistakes. I felt a power at that moment that would guide me and strengthen me to do what the Lord has planned for me to do.
How foolish of me to worry or fret during the few remaining years I have in mortality. I felt thankful for my home and confident that I could manage it. The Lord would help me make a celestial circle around the small spot of earth that is temporarily mine. My heart was filled with eagerness to begin a new life of hope and joy. I was filled with the desire to clean the house, trim the shrubs, plant some flowers, talk to the neighbors, and welcome any of my family who would come.
And my children do need me. All my grandchildren and all my great-grandchildren and their families need me. They need my well-being, my courage, my ability to be happy, and my love.
The temple session was closing. I silently gave thanks for the gift the Lord had given me that day. I promised to keep always in my heart the temple spirit I had felt. Outside, I paused in humble gratitude for flowers and budding trees. I knew that my apricots were blooming at home and that my daffodils would be there to greet me like a banner of gold. My heart reached out in love for home, for family, for life itself, for everything. I quietly resolved to live the last years of my life in gratitude and to make them become a sweet memory in the forever of the future.

“My father died when I was two and a half years old. I was the youngest child of seven. A sister died shortly before my father, so three boys and three girls were raised by my mother, a remarkable woman who lived to her eighty-fifth birthday. She was a great, great lady.
“Mother had none of the economic advantages that some people have. She relied on her own resources, the Lord, and her children. When my oldest brother was seventeen, he left high school to go to work to feed us. He and Mother and then each child in turn supported the rest while we went on missions and to school and so forth. Mother was the heart of the family. We loved her, and our lives revolved around hers. We all understood that we needed to help each other. As I look back now, I marvel that there really wasn’t any sense of discouragement or hopelessness or despair about our meager situation.
“Mother was the Relief Society president, first in the ward and then in the stake. At that time, during the Great Depression, food for those in need was delivered to the Relief Society president’s home. I remember that on occasion some day-old vegetables and bread and a five-gallon can of milk were delivered to our door, I don’t know by whom. The milk went into my mother’s canning jars and was parceled out with the other commodities, which I delivered to the poor. I couldn’t help wondering at the time why we weren’t numbered among the poor. Nevertheless, we never tasted any of that food; it went to the poor.
“I remember taking a plate of food each Sunday to the little Scandinavian lady who lived in a basement apartment on the corner of our street. She had no family or friends nearby. The dinner was sent on Mother’s nicest china with a cloth napkin over it.
“People were always coming to my mother for comfort and counsel or food. Somehow it was always there. She was a sweet soul; she was strong and loved the Lord and had great faith. She knew that if we did our part, everything would work out all right. And it always did.
“Once, when I was about seven years old, Mother gave me a dollar bill and asked me to go to Joe Wood’s market to buy a pound of hamburger. As Joe Wood put the hamburger on the counter, I put my hand in my pocket for the money—but the dollar bill was gone! I just panicked. I said to him, ‘I’ll have to come back later,’ then ran out of the store and retraced my steps, looking for the money. I couldn’t find it. I got all the way back home without finding it.
“I couldn’t face Mother and tell her I’d lost the dollar, so I ducked under the kitchen window and went around to the coal shed. I knelt down on the ground and told Heavenly Father that I just had to find that money. Then I crawled back under the window and went down the street again. There in the parking lot I found the dollar! Gratefully, I picked it up and went into the store to pay Joe Wood his money and get the hamburger.
“By the time I was eleven years old, I was working many hours a week. Every night after school until eight or nine o’clock and all day Saturday from seven in the morning until nine at night I worked in a butcher shop. I earned seventy-five cents a week, which I gave to my mother.
“I have had the unusual blessing of living both in England and in Asia with my own family. We have been exposed to the friendship of a great many little children. Here is one thing they all have in common: They really are all children of God. He loves them, and Christ died for them, and they are individually valued.
“There will come to you, no matter where you live or what your circumstances are, opportunities to be useful and constructive and helpful. If you use those opportunities, you will acquire a sense of respect and love for all people.
“You are valuable. You must never permit anyone to think otherwise. And you yourself have to start where you are in life. There is no other place to start. Accept what there is to work with and make something fine of yourself.”

Over and over, I have been reminded that people play important roles in our lives. One cold January day when I was in high school, I stayed after school for wrestling practice. My home was ten miles from the high school, so I usually caught a ride home after practice.
On this particular night, I didn’t feel very well. The only ride I could get was in the back of a pickup, and when the driver dropped me off, I was still at least a mile from home. I felt frozen, and I remember not being able to think straight. There were no cars in sight as I stumbled down the road toward home.
Before long, a car appeared in the distance. As it grew closer, I weakly waved my arm, hoping the driver would stop. He did. It was my brother-in-law, who had felt a strong prompting to come looking for me. The next day, I was diagnosed with pneumonia. I was very sick for several weeks. I’m not sure what would have happened to me if my brother-in-law hadn’t showed up, but I’m certain that he was following the Spirit when he went out looking for me that night.

I explained that Mom had joined the Church her freshman year while attending college in Missouri. In high school, she had had a high school teacher she respected. He was always kind to her and was a great example of the Savior’s love.
My mother found out he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When she left for college, she wanted to learn more about his religion.
We enjoyed a special moment as my mother explained the wonderful things life had brought her since she joined the Church—a temple wedding, missionary service by four of her eight children and many of her grandchildren, and numerous other blessings.

When I was in second grade, I went to choir on Thursdays at lunchtime with my friends. We sang songs, performed at assemblies, and had lots of fun.
One day we started learning a new song. When I listened to it, I heard Heavenly Father’s name in vain. It made me sad.
After school I told my mom about it. I told her that the song had Heavenly Father’s name in vain. She said I could ask the teachers if I could say something different. I knew that’s what I should do, but I was very nervous.
One Thursday I made up my mind to try. I told my teacher how I felt and how special God’s name was to me. I asked her if I could say something else. The teachers told me that I could say different words instead. I felt much better, and I knew Heavenly Father had helped me.
A few weeks later, my teachers said that the whole choir was going to sing the different words to the song during that part. At the assembly I stood tall as I sang. I was happy that I could help my friends and my choir to not say Heavenly Father’s name in vain.

Returning to college after my mission, I was considering whom I should room with. My dad suggested I reach out to a sister missionary who had recently served in my home ward and had just completed her mission. He explained that Holly was transferring to my school and she might not know many people there.
Although I knew Holly a bit from her time in our ward, I was hesitant to invite her to live with me. I was afraid she would think it was weird since we didn’t know each other well—and also because I didn’t know if we would click.
Despite my fears, I felt like following my dad’s tip would be a good thing to do. I had been praying to make new friends as I started school again, so I felt like Heavenly Father’s hand might be in my dad’s suggestion. I decided to go for it. Holly accepted my invitation, and during the year that we lived together, she became one of my best friends. Holly has offered me counsel and love during critical moments of my life, and I’ve been able to be there for her as well.
Our lives are filled with decisions. They may range in significance, but sometimes the smaller ones have the biggest impact down the road. While Heavenly Father might not initially reveal to us which choice is best in every situation, He has given us agency to act according to gospel principles and go forward with faith. I didn’t think that choosing a college roommate would have a lasting impact on my life, but it did. Only after reaching out to Holly did I realize that the Lord allowed me to make my own good decision, and I was blessed for it. Because I moved down the path I felt was right, Heavenly Father was able to introduce an amazing person into my life.

Bishop Monson recalled how he helped an elderly couple who needed to paint their home: “In a moment of inspiration I called, not upon the elders quorum or upon volunteers to wield paint brushes, but rather, following the welfare handbook, upon the family members who lived in other areas. Four sons-in-law and four daughters took brushes in hand and participated in the project.”2 This inspiration helped the family reconnect and better care for each other.

I grew up with friends who were members of the Church, and I became excited to be baptized and become a member myself. When I moved across the country for college, I began taking lessons from the missionaries. Unfortunately, pressure from my new peers made it difficult to follow the standards of the gospel. My fellow freshmen spent a lot of time at parties drinking alcohol. I had never tried alcohol before, but my new friends were constantly pressuring me to drink it.
I knew the gospel was true, but the temptation from my peers was difficult to resist.
I began to pray to Heavenly Father for the strength to make the right decision. I hadn’t lowered my standards yet, but I was afraid I wouldn’t have the strength to turn down the alcohol the next time it was offered. I missed my friends who shared the same values.
One Saturday night I went to a party with the people in my dorm. Immediately all of my friends were drinking and encouraging me to try my first taste of alcohol.
I was tempted. I took the cup of beer that was handed to me. I pulled it toward my mouth, uncomfortable but pleased to have the attention of my friends. Then Nick, a boy notorious for drinking, walked up to our circle.
“You didn’t drink that, did you?” he asked.
“Not yet,” I replied.
“If you do,” Nick said, “you will regret it every day for the rest of your life.”
I was shocked. I knew he was right. I didn’t want to drink. I wanted to join the Church. I handed the cup back and left the party, grateful that I hadn’t made a bad decision.
The next morning I went to church, found the missionaries, and set a date for my baptism. From that day on I stayed away from parties with alcohol. I made new friends at church who shared my values and standards. I was still friends with the people in my dorm, but I made my standards clear. When they learned how important my values were to me, they respected them and stopped pressuring me. They noticed and respected it when I left the room when they watched inappropriate movies or listened to inappropriate music.
My testimony was strengthened by this experience, and I will strive to never lower my standards because of peer pressure. I also know that the best way to face difficult decisions is to know your standards and hold firmly to them from the start.
I know that Heavenly Father answered my prayers for strength to resist temptation. I am grateful that the Holy Ghost encouraged me to make the right decision. I know that the standards of the Church are there to protect us, and I am grateful that choosing to follow them helped me choose to join the Church.