Gospel Story Finder

Danielle Menlove, a Beehive from Sandy, Utah, has running in her blood. Her parents, both runners, noticed something special when she beat her mother in a race at seven years old. Now she holds four USA national track and cross country titles and numerous records.
Danielle started winning big races when she was just 10 years old. She now holds the USA Track & Field—Utah youth records for the 11–12 age group in the 800m, 1500m, and the 3000m. In the 13–14 age group, Danielle holds the records in the 1500m and 3000m.
Danielle has learned that track involves enduring to the end. And she learned it the hard way. At the USATF National Junior Olympic Track & Field Championships in 2005, she accidentally stopped a lap short. She says, “I was in first place, and I had a 100m lead, but I stopped and started walking off the track.” When an official told her she had a lap to go, Danielle scrambled to rejoin the race. She still took second.
Recalling the event, Danielle says it helped her learn to finish strong. “It was a good thing to happen because I made the mistake once, and I’ll never make it again.”

I was in complete darkness in the spare bedroom of my parents’ home, buried under a pile of bedding. It could have been noon or midnight; I had lost all track of time. Everything I owned had been thrown into moving boxes that were now stacked in a wobbly tower next to my bed. I was getting divorced for a second time within four years, and it was too much to handle.
The end of my second marriage was an awful period packed with anxiety, uncertainty, and staying in various hotels. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t feel able to do much of anything other than lie under the covers and try not to feel feelings anymore.
I had faced hard times before, but this day was different. I didn’t want to go to church or read the scriptures—or even pull myself out of bed. Even praying took more out of me than I felt I had to offer. I lay in bed and prayed that I would want to pray, and that was it. I was unmistakably caught in despair.
My family and others who cared about me wanted to help, but they simply didn’t know how. They tried cheering me up, bringing me food, or assuring me that things would be all right. But I wasn’t ready to hear that yet. It was nearly impossible for anyone to help because even I didn’t know what kind of help I needed. It’s one thing to feel overwhelmed when you know everything you must do to overcome hurdles in your way. But it was very different for me when I couldn’t even begin to understand what to do next.
My first divorce was a devastating blow, and it took me a full year of exhausting effort to recover. But somehow, I pulled myself up and was eventually able to function again. That wasn’t the case this time. I didn’t have another “starting over” in me. At this moment I was completely depleted mentally, emotionally, and physically.
Suddenly, I was struck by a memory from years before.
I had left the Church as a teenager because I didn’t believe it to be true. I even stopped believing in God. Then in my 20s, I had an experience of conversion, and I knew the Church was true. I remember feeling the excitement of realizing the truth of the gospel. That excitement lasted only about a minute before my stomach turned with the sobering reality that my whole life would require an overhaul because of my conversion. How do you change nearly everything about your life and become the person you know you should be?
On that day in my 20s, I called my grandpa. I knew I could trust his direction with this problem. He listened to my concerns about how to change my entire life when I was unsure how to do so. Then he said, “Just pick one thing. Pick one thing, work on that, and when you’re ready, pick another. That’s all you have to do.”
I don’t know what I had expected to hear, but that wasn’t it. I needed to be so much better than I was, and I thought that changing one thing at a time wouldn’t be nearly enough. But somehow, in some fleeting moment of spiritual maturity, I decided to follow his advice. With such a staggering number of changes I was facing at that time of returning to the Church, what one thing should I choose first? The weight of this list that we all know (go to church, read scriptures, pray, pay tithing, serve in a calling, etc.) was overwhelming all on its own.
There were so many things I knew I would struggle to change, and I hadn’t felt strong enough to tackle them yet. So I decided to choose something I could do—something important but small. It would put me on the road I wanted to be on, and I’d be able to build on that success.
Years later, when I lacked the strength to offer up a simple prayer after my second divorce, the Holy Ghost brought that memory to my mind.
As I continued to lie motionless inside my cotton cocoon of bedding and recalled that counsel, I knew the Spirit was providing me direction I could apply to my present circumstance. Maybe I could do one thing. It didn’t have to be anything major; it just had to be something. The first thing I needed to do was get out of bed. So that’s what I did—after a few minutes, I pulled back the covers and stood up. Then I went back under the covers. But that was OK because I had done the one thing that I picked. I kept that as my goal for a few more days before picking my next thing, and I continued to build upon that.
I now understand that Grandpa’s direction was more than just good advice. The scriptures teach, “For behold, thus saith the Lord God: I will give unto the children of men line upon line, precept upon precept, here a little and there a little; and blessed are those who hearken unto my precepts, and lend an ear unto my counsel, for they shall learn wisdom; for unto him that receiveth I will give more” (2 Nephi 28:30). I tried it because I trusted my grandpa. It works because it’s a gospel principle. Learning how to become better by changing one thing at a time is how we learn and grow.
This would usually be the point in the story where I would tell you how great my life is today. The truth is things are better, but that’s not the only point. The point is that the Lord expected me to simply do the very best I could in each moment with His help. He understood that on some days my best was literally mustering up the strength to get out of bed. As Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has taught: “God will take you as you are at this very moment and begin to work with you. All you need is a willing heart, a desire to believe, and trust in the Lord.” 1
I felt love and acceptance from our Father in Heaven. My offering to continually improve myself line upon line is acceptable to Him. The effort, no matter how imperfect, is still acceptable if it’s my best effort. President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) taught: “Do the best that you can. That’s all we ask of you. … The Lord doesn’t expect you to do more than that. Just do the very best you can.” 2 I didn’t have to flip a switch and completely transform overnight. We progress line upon line.
Whether I’m striving to be better at ministering to those around me or just trying to stand up, it matters that I’m trying.
From my efforts to recover from two divorces—and from everything else that life has challenged me with—I have learned two key lessons. First, the Lord loves sincere effort of any kind. 3 Second, the Lord will meet you where you are. Regardless of where you are on the road to recovery and healing, if you’re on that road, He will be there.
Because the Savior has taken upon Himself all our pains and sorrows, He knows what we need no matter what it is. Even if we don’t know it ourselves, He does. And He will help us move forward.
I often hear others expressing their gratitude for the challenges in their life. I want to feel thankful for adversity. I’m not that person yet, but right now, that’s my one thing. I’m working on that, and when I’m ready, I’ll pick another.

As I spread the threadbare but clean tablecloth over our table, I glanced out the window. My husband and I and our two children were living in the small, rural village of Hämeenkyrö, Finland, in the 1960s. I saw my four-year-old daughter, Marika, and three-year-old son, Petri, playing with our dog on our small patch of green grass. My husband was tending to some chores in the garden. I straightened the cloth, and when I looked up again I saw a stranger walking up the path to our front door. She was a gray-haired woman and seemed to limp a bit. She didn’t look poor by any means; she wore a beautiful flower-print dress and a long apron. In her hand was a bulging bag.
My children followed her as she came into our kitchen. “Excuse me for entering your home like this,” she said, “but I had to come.” She hefted her bag onto the table. It was full of food. As the butter, meat, sausage, and freshly baked bread made their way onto the table and then into my children’s hands, tears came to my eyes.
“Can you be our grandmother now?” Marika asked the woman.
“If I may!” our guest answered. “I’d be happy to, and you can call me Aunt Toini.”
In that moment I recalled my prayer to Heavenly Father: “Please send someone to help us!” Aunt Toini was an answer to my prayers, and not only did she bring us food, she also brought lessons of love.
Life was simple in Hämeenkyrö. We had bought a small house by a beautiful forest. I had recently joined the Church, but my husband was not interested in the gospel. We were trying to be self-reliant. We grew potatoes and other vegetables in our garden. I sewed the children’s outfits and patched our clothes. We needed and were thankful for surprise packages of clothing my mother sent from northern Finland.
But as time went on, things got worse. Our family had to strictly ration food. At times my husband and I would eat only potatoes so the children would have a bit more. This is when I started my pleading: “Dear Lord, please send someone to help us!”
I found a job, but it didn’t help enough. There wasn’t much of my salary left after meeting my expenses, including bus fare and the babysitter’s payment.
Though we struggled I always taught my children to be grateful for all we did have. Petri often blessed the food: “Thank You, Heavenly Father, for this porridge, but could You please give us a piece of sausage too, if You have some?”
At those times I pleaded even more, “Please send someone to help!”
As she carried water from the well, I offered a different prayer: “Thank You, Heavenly Father! Blessed be the full bag and 20 marks!”
Every Saturday Aunt Toini came at the same time, with the bag full of food and 20 marks. She never asked how she could help; she just went to work. Occasionally she would stay at our house for a day or two. At those times she would always be the first to get up in the morning to make the porridge. She bought us some new pots and pans when she noticed the need. Sometimes she would wash our laundry by hand.
The weeks went by quickly as we looked forward to Saturdays and Aunt Toini’s visits. I would sometimes tell her about the Church, and many times we prayed together. Marika and Petri were very happy every time she came, and Aunt Toini never forgot to bring some sausage for Petri. It seemed she enjoyed the time with our family, and I thought perhaps we were giving something back to her.
Aunt Toini visited us regularly for three years. Then one Saturday she didn’t come. Nor did she come the following day. Later we learned that Aunt Toini had just left a shop and was heading to our small cottage when she collapsed to the ground, never to recover.
My husband and I and our children attended Aunt Toini’s funeral. We didn’t know anyone when we arrived, and we didn’t know when it would be appropriate for us to lay our flowers on her grave. We decided to be the last to lay down our flowers, to express our gratitude, to say good-bye.
After the funeral a woman approached us and told us she was Aunt Toini’s daughter. “You could have laid your flowers down first. You were so dear to our mother,” she said. “What was the power that changed her? She used to be a stingy and selfish person. But during the last three years she changed into a new person. She was so tender and loving.”
I didn’t know what to say except, “It was love.”
Though it has been more than 40 years since I first met Aunt Toini, I am still learning from the lessons she brought along with her bag of food. She was my teacher. She taught me how to long for forgiveness and how to give service and help. And now I realize that though she came to feed us, she too had been fed.

When Herman returned from serving in France during World War I, he and Minerva moved to the old Teichert family homestead in Idaho. Minerva loved this place, but they were eventually forced to leave by the construction of a new reservoir. They made their new home on a cattle ranch at Cokeville, Wyoming. Minerva painted scenes of the Idaho countryside around their old home in a frieze for the living room of their new home. For more than forty years, this room was both Minerva’s studio and the center of the Teichert household. She cooked meals on a wood-burning stove, occasionally adding a touch to a painting as she cooked. Every night while the family ate supper, she read to them—literature, history, and the scriptures.
In that same living room she developed a strong, original style as she painted hundreds of murals, portraits, and other works. The conditions were far from ideal for painting. The room was too small to spread out her larger murals. She sometimes had to fold the canvas, painting one section at a time. To see her murals in perspective, she would look through the small end of a pair of binoculars. Distractions were constant. But somehow Minerva persisted. “I must paint,” she once explained (unpublished manuscript, 1947).

My daughter also has Hirschsprung’s disease. On top of that, she suffers from a heart defect and has Down syndrome. She spent her first few weeks on the earth in the hospital. After three major surgeries, she is a sweet ball of smiles. At first, her diagnosis felt like a tragedy, but now it feels more like a blessing. Despite some hard times, she has taught our family love and patience. She brings joy to simple moments, never ceases to surprise us, and makes people happy wherever she goes.

A true story from Brazil.
Melissa sat in Primary, excited to learn a new song. Her teacher, Sister Costa, said it was called “Gethsemane.”
“This song talks about how much Jesus Christ loves us and what He did for us. Listen closely and try to sing along.”
Sister Costa played a video that showed the words to the song with pictures on the screen.
Melissa sang even though she didn’t know all the words yet. She felt very calm inside as she listened to the words, “Gethsemane! Jesus loves me.”
When the song was over, Sister Costa held up a picture of Jesus Christ coming out of the tomb. “Jesus died, but then He lived again! Because of Him, we will all live again too,” she said.
Melissa got a peaceful feeling, like she was getting a big hug. “So … if someone dies, it’s not forever?” Melissa asked.
“That’s right, Melissa,” Sister Costa said. “Because Jesus Christ was resurrected, one day we will all be resurrected too.”
That Sunday, Melissa went home with a happy heart. She thought about the Savior’s love for her.
Some time later, Melissa’s house became quiet and sad. Her father had been sick for a while and passed away. Her mother cried more often. People gave longer hugs. Melissa could feel something very important had changed.
On the day of the funeral, it was very cold, and the sun barely showed in the sky. There were flowers around the casket. People stood quietly, and some were crying.
Melissa tightly held her mother’s hand. As she went up to the casket and looked at her father, she remembered the picture of Jesus Christ leaving the tomb. She also remembered Sister Costa saying that because of the Savior, we will all live again one day.
“Mom, Jesus is alive. He died, but He was resurrected. One day, Daddy will be resurrected too, right?” Melissa asked.
“Yes, dear,” Mom said. “Because of Jesus, we will all see Daddy again someday.”
Melissa missed her father. She wanted to hug him, hear his voice, and play with him again. Because of Jesus Christ, someday she would. But she would have to wait. Melissa placed her hand on the casket and whispered, “See you later, Daddy.”
Even though it was a very sad day, Melissa felt the same peace she had felt in Primary. She knew it was the Holy Ghost.
In the days that followed, whenever she missed her father, Melissa softly sang the words to “Gethsemane” to herself. And every time she sang, she felt comforted.
When Easter Sunday arrived, it felt different for Melissa.
Instead of thinking about chocolate eggs or bunnies, she thought more about Jesus Christ and her father. She knew she would still miss him. But she also knew that death was not the end.
She knew Jesus had risen and that one day her father would live again too.
And until that day came, she could sing, remember, and feel peace.

Mary Stark Pratt was the wife of Elder Rey L. Pratt, a member of the First Council of the Seventy and president of the Mexican Mission during the first decades of this century. This remarkable woman was the mother of thirteen children and, in addition to her family and mission responsibilities, served as the mission Relief Society president. She was an outstanding example of the ways Relief Society allows women to serve and bless others.
Mary gave homemaking lessons in which she taught unskilled sisters how to clean house quickly, mending and darning techniques, and sewing ideas so that they could make their homes places in which they could take pride. But she realized that the greatest need of any person is to feel a sense of self-worth. She encouraged the sisters to become skilled in native Mexican embroidery and make embroidered clothing and household items. People came so enthusiastically from all over the city to buy the handworked items that the sisters took great pride in their work and redoubled their efforts to perfect their skills.

Five years later, looking back on the incomplete construction of the Nauvoo Temple, Joseph knew his journey’s end was near and that he was going “like a lamb to the slaughter,” yet he was “calm as a summer’s morning.” With assurances for his protection, he submitted to one more arrest. However, his trust was dishonored. On June 27, 1844, he and his brother Hyrum were savagely murdered in Carthage Jail.

The next morning Samuel gave a copy of the Book of Mormon to a poor widow who fed him breakfast. Then he walked 8 miles (13 km) and shared the Book of Mormon with John Greene, a Methodist minister, who took it only to see if others he knew might be interested in buying a copy. Mr. Greene’s wife, Rhoda, was Brigham Young’s sister, but Brigham had not yet been introduced to the Church.
When Samuel returned to the Greenes’ home in two weeks, he learned that Mr. Greene hadn’t found anyone who was interested in the Book of Mormon. So Samuel agreed to return in a few months. When he did, Mr. Greene wasn’t home, but Mrs. Greene told Samuel that she had read the book “and was much pleased with it.” The Spirit prompted Samuel to leave the book with her. She was so grateful “she burst into tears.” Samuel then “explained to her the most profitable manner of reading the book … which was, to ask God, when she read it, for a testimony of the truth of what she had read, and she would receive the Spirit of God, which would enable her to discern the things of God.”
Later Mrs. Greene urged her husband to read the Book of Mormon too. He did, and they were soon baptized.

DJ walked out of the church building with the other kids who had come to the Saturday activity. They’d already had a lot of fun. He couldn’t wait to see what was next.
Brother and Sister Jones led the group to the back parking lot. A bunch of plastic chairs were set up in a really weird arrangement—not in rows at all.
“So,” Brother Jones said, clapping his hands together and smiling, “who wants to try our obstacle course?”
DJ’s hand shot up. Awesome! He loved obstacle courses! This one looked kind of easy, but that was OK. It would still be cool.
Sister Jones nodded to DJ, then turned to the other kids. “You’ll all have a chance,” she said with a smile. “But I’m afraid it’s not as easy as it looks.”
She pulled a blindfold from her pocket.
DJ stared at the blindfold, then back at the chairs. This was going to be a lot harder than he’d thought.
“Don’t worry, DJ,” Brother Jones said. “You’ll have help. Who would like to be DJ’s helper?”
This time his friend Sam’s hand went up first. Sister Jones sent Sam to the other side of the obstacle course. “OK, Sam, your job is to tell DJ how to get through without running into any chairs. If he needs to go left, right, back, or forward, you tell him. Understand?”
“Yup!” Sam said.
Brother Jones placed a hand on DJ’s shoulder. “DJ, listen closely to Sam’s voice. If you bump into a chair, you’ll have to take three steps back and keep trying. Ready?”
“I think so,” DJ said. It still sounded fun, but he was starting to wish he hadn’t volunteered first. He’d probably bump into at least two or three chairs.
Brother Jones tied on the blindfold. “Good luck!”
“OK,” Sam said. “Walk forward three steps.” DJ started moving his feet. It felt so strange, walking in the dark like that.
“Now another two steps,” Sam said. “Yeah. Now one more. Good. Now turn left.”
As DJ kept dodging the chairs, he started feeling confident.
“Turn right,” Sam said a minute later. But DJ didn’t listen right away. He thought for sure he remembered a straight path right about there. He could get through faster if he kept going the way he was headed. He took a step or two without turning.
“Wait,” Sam said. “I said turn right!”
“I will in just a—” DJ bumped right into a chair. It slid across the ground. Oops …
“That’s OK,” Brother Jones said. “Just back up and try again.”
DJ felt silly. He should have listened to Sam. He carefully backed up three steps.
This time Sam talked him all the way through without another bump. The other kids clapped as DJ took off his blindfold and gave Sam a high five.
Sister Jones pointed at the chairs. “Our lives can be like this obstacle course,” she said. “It’s not always easy to see problems on our own. But we have a helper too. Can anybody tell me who that helper is?”
Shayla raised her hand. “The Holy Ghost!” she said.
Brother Jones nodded. “Exactly. He can help us avoid hidden dangers. Now who’s next?” All the other kids raised their hands at once.
DJ decided right then that he would always listen to the Holy Ghost. He knew then he would be safe from hidden dangers.

Those who knew my father knew how active he was. Someone once told me that he could do the work of three men. He rarely slowed down. In 1938 he was operating a successful business when he received a call from the President of the Church, Heber J. Grant.

President Grant told him they were reorganizing the Presiding Bishopric that day and wanted my father to serve as counselor to LeGrand Richards. This caught my father by surprise, and he asked if he could pray about it first.

President Grant said, “Brother Wirthlin, there are only 30 minutes before the next session of conference, and I want to have some rest. What do you say?”

Of course, my father said yes. He served 23 years, 9 of them as Presiding Bishop of the Church.

One of the great influences in my life was to work closely for many years with Belle S. Spafford, general president of the Relief Society, surely one of the greatest women of this dispensation.

One day she told me that as a young woman she explained to her bishop that she was willing to serve but preferred a call to teach. The following week she was called as a counselor to the ward Relief Society president. “I did not relish the call,” she said. “The bishop had misunderstood.” She told him bluntly Relief Society was for old women. Except for the counsel of her husband, she would have refused the call.

Several times she asked to be released. Each time the bishop said he would pray about it.

One night she was seriously injured in an automobile accident. After some time in the hospital, she was recovering at home. A terrible laceration on her face became infected. The worried doctor told her, “We can’t touch this surgically; it’s too close to the main nerve in your face.”

That Sunday night, as the doctor left the Spafford home, the bishop, returning from a late meeting, saw the lights on and stopped in.

Sister Spafford later told me, “In that pathetic condition I tearfully said, ‘Bishop, now will you release me?’”

Again he said, “I will pray about it.”

When the answer came, it was, “Sister Spafford, I still can’t get the feeling that you should be released from Relief Society.”

Belle S. Spafford served for 46 years in the Relief Society, nearly 30 as general president. She was an influence for good in the Church and was respected by women leaders worldwide.

At a meeting of the World Council of Women in Suriname, citing age and failing health, she submitted a letter of resignation as an officer. She showed me their letter of refusal—they needed her wisdom, her strength of character.

She often spoke of being tested in her calling. Perhaps the greatest test came when, as a young woman, she learned to respect the power and authority inherent in the priesthood and that an ordinary man serving as bishop can receive direction from the Lord in calling members to serve.

I was in the midst of a very difficult period of my life. I had left my home in Taiwan to pursue a master’s degree at Utah State University in Logan, Utah. I missed my family terribly. As I struggled with my studies, I often felt entirely alone in a different culture.
I vividly remember walking home one snowy day. I reached the front door, checked the mail box, and found it empty. Despondently, I climbed the stairs to my room and tried to study.
Just at that moment, the telephone rang. The speaker introduced herself as Tamara Beard and said that she was my visiting teacher. She said that she and Greergy, her companion, wanted to visit me. Well, wasn’t that something! They were students, too, and I knew they had to be busy. I had not really expected them to make time for me. But they did, and that was the beginning of my unforgettable friendship with Tamara.
Tamara was not flamboyant. Quiet and gentle, she reminded me of Leah in the Old Testament, who was “tender eyed” (Gen. 29:17). On the first visit, she and Greergy got acquainted with me and delivered a brief message. On other occasions they brought me little gifts, such as a wonderful quotation, a package of candy, or a birthday card. I was amazed that they would go to so much trouble.
After a while I noticed that Tamara’s walk was becoming unsteady. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I got sick,” she replied. “No big deal.” But the Relief Society president told me that Tamara had a neurological disease and that she was suffering. Each month I observed her condition gradually worsen. Still, she never stopped coming.
One day when I answered the phone, I was surprised to hear a strange computerized voice ask, “May I speak to Lin?”
At first I said nothing; I suspected that someone was playing a trick on me. Then I heard, “Hi, Lin. This is Tamara. I’m sorry I frightened you.” Later, Greergy explained to me that Tamara’s disease had affected her voice; she could no longer speak without the aid of a machine.
Eventually, Tamara lost her ability to speak. But this did not stop her from keeping in touch with me. To talk on the phone, she typed a message on a special typewriter that transmitted the message to a telephone operator. When the operator received the message, she called and read it to me.
As time went on, Tamara grew even weaker. Still, she went to the temple once a week, and we often went together. On those occasions we both felt blessed by the peace we experienced there.
It seemed to me that she was in an unbearable situation. I was amazed that she was suffering this trial without complaint. How was she able to be happy?
What amazed me, too, was that she seemed more concerned about me. She knew I was having trials of my own and was always urging me to smile. After a long period of prayer and fasting, I decided to go home to Taiwan. Tamara was sad to say good-bye to me, but she understood that I needed to follow the promptings of the Spirit.
When I think of Tamara, I remember the way people were attracted to her. No one seemed to notice the illness itself, and everyone was happy to do something for her, to take her shopping or to the temple or to stop by and visit. I sometimes ask myself, What made me and everyone else so devoted to her?
The answer is simple: It was charity—the pure love of Christ. She personified charity. She never asked for special consideration or complained about her pain. As a visiting teacher and a friend, she did everything she could to serve others and share their burdens. She taught us that caring for others—loving them—is possible—no matter what circumstances we find ourselves in.
Tamara Beard DuRee is now married and living in Logan, Utah.

When I was a deacon, a member of our bishopric challenged our deacons quorum to read the standard works in a year. He explained that we could accomplish this goal by reading five chapters a day, and I decided to do it.
A few nights later, a guideline for accomplishing the scripture reading challenge was dropped off at my house, and I realized that it would be hard to do this by myself. I asked my family if they would join me. After some discussion, they agreed it would improve our family scripture study. We decided to start that night.
It was not easy. Some days it felt almost like a chore. I remember one night when I had to wake my family up late at night so that we could read. We were determined not to miss a night of reading, and we didn’t.
It took some creativity to reach our goal. When my dad was on a business trip we would put him on speakerphone and read together. We kept a copy of the scriptures in the car in case we were ever on the road.
As we read, our lives changed. We grew spiritually, and I found that I handled trials better. My dad was laid off from work. It was a difficult time for our family, but we gained valuable insight on Heavenly Father’s plan for us through our scripture study. I know Heavenly Father was blessing us.
When my family finished our challenge we decided that we would not stop reading and learning. We started rereading the Book of Mormon the very next day. My life has been changed forever, and I know that daily scripture study is a habit I will not break. The Spirit whispered to me that the things I read are true. We can do hard things. As I prepare for a mission I will be armed with the power of God because I acted upon this challenge from my Church leader.

Although Talica has fun at school, she is also a dedicated student. In class, her hand goes up almost automatically when the teacher asks a question. Once when she scored seventh in her class on an exam, she decided that next time she would finish first or second. She studied hard during and after school, and on the next exam she finished second. She receives a well-rounded education in return for her devotion. Students not only learn academic subjects but begin each day with a prayer, attend religion class, and tend a garden plot.

One ordinary Sunday I was sitting with my family in sacrament meeting. We heard the announcements and listened to the prayer; then as we were singing the opening hymn, something very out of the ordinary happened. Elder L. Tom Perry of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and his wife walked into our chapel! Sister Perry sat in the congregation as her husband walked up and sat on the stand. It was a complete shock to everyone. Elder Perry explained to us that he had planned to attend a different ward but had become lost and decided to attend our ward instead.
Although we were surprised that an Apostle of the Lord had come to our sacrament meeting, we were prepared. The priesthood holders blessed and passed the sacrament reverently. The girls in the congregation were dressed modestly. Our meeting was being run with order. Our building was clean and was a place where the Spirit could be present, and the speakers were ready with well-prepared, inspiring talks.
On a more personal level, I felt that my family and I were prepared. We had been taught by my parents to be reverent, to listen, and to sing the hymns. We didn’t need to change our routine because Elder Perry was there.

During the summer, I did odd jobs to earn money. That summer I was working as a service station attendant. A man who worked there was a member of the Church, and he invited me to attend MIA (Mutual). At first I hesitated, but he persisted, and I finally gave in. The warmth and friendliness of the members and missionaries impressed me, but again the music influenced me most. Their hymns sounded different from any I had ever heard.

When I first started reading the Book of Mormon, it seemed strange to me. The only name in the book that was familiar to me was the name of one of Nephi’s brothers—Sam! That was my name! But there was a force that drew me to the Book of Mormon. I felt that if I were to become a member of the Church, my life would become much more meaningful.

When I told my older brother that I would like to be baptized, he said, “That would be fine. But if you become a member, you must be a lifetime member. You must commit yourself and be loyal.” I was baptized when I was sixteen.

After high school, I was in the military, and I had the opportunity to have an interview with Elder Harold B. Lee, who was then an Apostle and who later became President of the Church. It was a very precious time for me. For an hour he counseled me to go on a mission, to go to the house of the Lord, and to sustain the leaders of the Church. This same advice applies to every member of the Church.

I never forgot Elder Lee’s advice. I came to Salt Lake City, Utah, on furlough and went to the Salt Lake Temple. After I left the military and went to college, I saved money for a mission. During my mission, I was able to open the Okinawa area, where my father was from, for missionary work. Later, serving as president of the Tokyo Temple, I had the wonderful blessing of seeing many of the Japanese Saints receive their temple endowments. Seeing the joy in the faces of those being sealed was a great blessing.

From journal entry #222, dated August 1, 1978, addressed to "Whomever," Elder Lively wrote, “I must be the most happiest missionary in the mission. Tonight, the Romo family accepted baptism for August 12th. Yahooo! Every time we challenge a family, I get a tingling feeling all over my body, just like I used to before the beginning of a basketball game. Boy, I know that my Heavenly Father is looking after us because he has blessed us with such great families. I love my mission so much not only now because things are going so good but also when the times were rough and hard.” We talked to the Romo family about fasting to find out if the message being taught is true, and they said—sure, no problem, we will do it. Everyone is very excited about the whole thing.” Until tomorrow!
The missionaries dared to extend the invitation to fast and pray because they were not afraid that they would lose a golden family if the family didn’t accept it; instead, they were fearful that the family wouldn’t receive the blessings and power that God had in store for them. Elder Lively added journal entry #238, “To whomever, August 26, 1978, Saturday, the Romo’s baptism was just great. Everything went smoothly, just like it was supposed to.”

Weather, distance, and school schedules prevent many Thai members from attending church, so the Ubon Ward decided to set a date and encourage as many people as possible to attend.
A lot of members here in Thailand have difficulty coming to church because of school meetings, bad weather (most of our members travel by motorbike), and distance. The members in my ward, the Ubon Ward, face all of these challenges and more, which makes attending church difficult.
One Sunday, I was wondering how we could help the members recognize the blessings of exercising the faith to worship together more often. The idea came to me, “What if we picked a Sunday to focus on getting every member to church that day?” If we were able to get everyone to come on the same day, it would allow members to really see and feel the strength of the ward.
Other leaders and members in the ward liked the idea and became involved in planning for it. We decided on a date, June 17, 2018—the Sunday closest to the anniversary of when the Ubon Thailand Stake was founded—and started sending messages about it through social media. We named the event “Let’s Come to Church on the Same Sunday! 200 Sacrament Meeting Attendance—Ubon Ward Can Do It.”
Practically the whole ward was involved in encouraging each other to come. Everybody kept sending messages persuading others to join the event. Members also invited returning members and friends who weren’t members. And so many people said yes!
We realized that this was more than just a fun event to see how many people could come. We wanted it to be an especially spiritual experience to help motivate members to make attending sacrament meeting a priority. So in the months leading up to the event, the bishopric encouraged people to avoid any activities that might minimize the importance of the sacrament or the worship of the Lord.
We even made bookmarks to help people remember the event and the Spirit that we knew would be there because of everyone’s efforts to attend. The bookmark had the name of the event and also a scripture: “I have said, Ye are gods; and all of you are children of the most High” (Psalm 82:6). We chose this scripture because we wanted everyone to realize that they are children of God and have the potential to be like Him.
Members planned for a long time to all be able to attend on the set day. Finally, the day came. But so did obstacles. It rained heavily the evening before and continued raining all through the night. Another obstacle for some members was that an important school meeting was happening at the same time as church.
We asked everybody to pray for these obstacles to be removed or overcome. At about 7:00 a.m. Sunday morning, the rain stopped. And when we arrived at church, we found those families who needed to go to the school meeting. When we asked them about their other meeting, they said, “We have to come to sacrament meeting first.” It was a great testimony to me of the importance of the Lord’s sacrament.
Members brought a lot of friends and neighbors to the meeting. One sister in the ward brought eight friends who had never been to church before! As more and more people arrived, we needed to open the overflow room. The count of the sacrament attendance was 215 people! All through the meeting, I could feel that the Holy Ghost was with us and that God helped us to be successful in this endeavor.
After this amazing Sunday, the number of people who regularly attend sacrament meeting increased. This included three Melchizedek Priesthood holders who began attending church regularly with their families. One family even had two of their children baptized and confirmed the following month.

Three years later I went to Rome, Italy, to visit my uncle. He kept telling me about this church he went to. One Sunday, he took me with him. I will always remember walking toward the church’s doors for the first time and feeling the love of Heavenly Father when I went in. It felt like home.

I started going to church every single Sunday and to every activity during the week. I loved being with the youth of the Church. They made me happier. They thought and believed in the same things that I did. Then, after three months, my summer holiday finished and I had to go back to Albania.

When I returned home, I told my dad about the feelings I had had and how happy I had felt during all that time. He didn’t like it. He told me he wouldn’t allow me to continue to go to church or learn more about it. So I would have to be patient for the next three years until I turned 18 years old. Then I could decide for myself and get baptized.

During this time I was blessed with so many people who would tell me about what they learned each Sunday at church. One of those people was Stephanie. She had been living in Italy when my uncle joined the Church, but she had returned to her home in the United States. My uncle thought it would be good for us to write to each other, so I added her as a friend on Facebook.

Even though we had never met in person, I will always be grateful to her for helping me build my faith and learn more about the gospel of Jesus Christ. She wrote to me almost every Sunday and told me everything she learned in church and then would answer my questions. She was a great friend to me.

Finally, after years of being patient, I was baptized just two days after my 18th birthday. And soon I will share with my mother the happiness I felt that day, because I will be baptized for her. I know she will be proud of the life I have chosen.

I feel blessed by Heavenly Father because He was with me during my entire journey in so many ways. I just had to wait and be patient because He had a plan for me. He’s the one who gave me strength to go through all the challenges I faced. He was always there, helping me be happier.