Gospel Story Finder

I am grateful to Heavenly Father for His love and special blessings in my life. During the desperate times of difficulties and throughout the war, I wandered to the very edge of my life and felt most helpless. There was no hope and no future for me. I thought I had been completely thrown out and left out by everything.
Heavenly Father, through my loving parents, worked out miracles for me. I was able to stand up and move forward.
The shelters and food were provided here and there. It wasn’t much, but enough for me to keep going and ultimately to join with you today in this historic great Tabernacle, surrounded by the chosen leaders of the Lord’s Church.
Thus, I say, “Kam sa ham ni ta” to my Heavenly Father.

When I looked at my brother’s Christmas tree, there, hanging as a decoration, was a tiny molded figure of a swimmer with a snorkel and diving mask. “What’s this on your tree?” I asked. “We’ve started a new tradition,” he said. “Each year we are going to make decorations that represent something that happened to us that year. This year I learned to snorkel. Here’s one of the Washington Monument because we moved from Washington, D.C., and here’s one of the sun because we had a fun summer.”
Every year when my brother unpacks the Christmas decorations, his family will remember some of the special things that have happened to them during past years.

Amid my despair, I remembered a time that our ward held an activity called “Christmas in Bethlehem.” Ward members came dressed up as if they were living at the time Jesus was born. Erica, who was four years old at the time, wore a hand-me-down long, white dress and a scarf wrapped around her head. The culmination of the evening was a reenactment of the Nativity in a mock stable decorated with bales of hay and a manger. A young couple with their newborn played the parts of Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus.
As we gathered around the nativity, I noticed that Erica was missing from my side. I panicked until I caught a flash of her white dress near the nativity. Then my panic shifted from fear for her welfare to fear that she would disrupt the scene. I was about to call out to her, but I paused and watched as she made her way to the manger.
Erica quietly knelt next to Mary and looked up at her as if to get her permission. Then Erica reached out and tenderly caressed the sleeping baby. I was not the only one who noticed. Others soon quieted and watched as she knelt close to the baby. A tender feeling permeated the group as they realized that this baby was the Christ child for Erica.
In my grief, this Christmas memory brought feelings of peace and comfort as I recalled my young daughter’s devotion. My mind had been full of questions about life and death—questions that didn’t seem to matter as much before Erica’s death. As I pondered the Resurrection and the Crucifixion, I identified with Mary. She loved her newborn Son, and she later endured terrible pain and anguish as she witnessed His suffering and death. Christ was not spared the cross, and Mary was not spared her grief.

My father never made much money, but my parents were honest and hard working, and they taught these values to their children. My father worked at a copper mine. He didn’t earn enough money to send his sons and daughters on missions or to college, so my parents bought 1,000 chickens for us to raise so that we could sell the eggs. They also contracted to deliver a large number of newspapers each evening to our neighbors.
Most of the money from the eggs and delivering newspapers went into the bank to help pay for our education and our missions. Five of the children used the money to serve missions and all seven graduated from college. The lessons of value that my parents taught me on honesty, hard work, the Word of Wisdom, the law of chastity, and many other things continue to bless my life.

Many times the most beautiful examples of obedience and service are given by ordinary people who live close to us. Sister Ana Rita de Jesus, an elderly widow, lived in Anápolis, Brazil. She could not read or write. The missionaries would go to her home every week to read the scriptures to her. She was loving and kind. Every Sunday she asked the missionaries to help her fill out a tithing slip. Sometimes her tithing and offerings were not more than a few cents, but she knew the law and wanted to obey it. After paying her tithing, she would walk into the room where the sacrament meeting was held in a rented house and would place a flower on the pulpit. In doing so, she served her brothers and sisters, bringing beauty to the place where we worshiped the Lord. That sister, in a very simple way, taught us obedience and service. She knew that obeying the commandments is the best preparation to serve.

But all of this might never have been, had earlier sisters surrendered to their fears. Consider Kira Gulko’s story:
“I was 14,” she explains. “We weren’t practicing Jews, but we were of Jewish origin. For many years in our family, talking about Jesus Christ was forbidden. But when perestroika began, allowing greater freedom to look at new ideas, my parents started to explore different religions and philosophies. My mother was president of the international friendship club at the school where she teaches English. She found a letter from a teacher in Riverton, Utah, who was looking for pen pals. My mother’s class responded, and in return they got a big box of maybe 100 letters. Many of the students mentioned they were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but my mother didn’t know what that was.
“Then we were passing by the bridge near our house, and we saw a notice inviting people to attend The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints! My parents decided to go, first so Mom could answer her students’ questions, but also because they were looking for another religion themselves.
“That was in October 1991. After that, the missionaries started coming to our apartment. Soon my parents understood that Jesus Christ is their Savior. They also loved the doctrine of eternal families. We have a wonderful family, and I think that was an important principle to us. They also went to a baptism and felt the Spirit. In December they decided to be baptized themselves.
“I listened to all of the discussions, but I couldn’t understand why my parents decided to join this church. I was afraid they were crazy, that something had happened to their minds. But as I read the Book of Mormon, my testimony of its truthfulness grew stronger and stronger. The key to my conversion was when I realized I am truly loved by my Heavenly Father. I could feel this big love that’s around me and see it in my parents and in the members of the Church. That’s why I was baptized in February 1992. I knew it was right.”
Since then, Kira has helped to bring her friend Lena into the Church and has watched three of her four grandparents embrace the gospel. She has seen her mother help with the translation of the Book of Mormon into Ukrainian and seen her father called as a district president. She has spent several semesters at Brigham Young University, where she served as a student ward Relief Society president. Now attending a university in Kiev, she is watching what were once small branches grow into large ones.

Days start early for 16-year-old Jenny Flinn, who lives in the little town of Broadway, near Ilminster in Somerset, England. There’s lots of work to be done, animals to feed, and cows to milk—at least an hour of chores, all told—before she leaves for school.
But there are also rewards.
The morning air is brisk, and Jenny breathes deeply and feels renewed. The sun is warm, more tan than yellow as it chases fog away. The fields are damp, but the dew seems to wrap each plant in crystal. The animals, already awake and eager for attention, seem happy just to be alive. Jenny wouldn’t say it out loud, but living here is like living a prayer of thanksgiving. Each day she finds herself full of gratitude. Yes, there’s work to be done. But work is life, and life is good.

In one area where more than 300 homes burned, the residents honored the firemen and the missionaries. One resident said, “These missionaries worked longer and harder than anyone else.” Then the missionaries sang, “Because I Have Been Given Much,” (Hymns, no. 219). After the song, the missionaries and residents hugged one another with tears in their eyes.
Said one elder, “We showed others that though we are young, the gospel guides our lives whether we are teaching the gospel or digging out the remains of a home.”

“Circle up!”
The wagon master signaled the wagon train of Danish immigrants to form their evening circle. It was a bit early to make camp, and it was sunny there in the valley, but black clouds had been pouring their rain on the Rocky Mountains rising grandly before them for a good while. The storm seemed to be moving toward them. It would be miserable to make camp in the rain, so everyone quickly began their assigned duties.
Maren dropped her last armful of limbs onto the pile of firewood. As she brushed at the bits of bark clinging to her dress, she heard happy laughter, then an impatient exclamation from her mother. Turning, Maren felt like laughing, too, as her mother tried to brush away the dust that made a squirming little boy look more like a coal miner after work than her four-year-old brother.
“Maren,” Mother pleaded, “please take Rasmus down to the stream and clean him off as best you can.”
Wearily Mother turned back to her cooking, only to see six-year-old Jens poking a handful of dry grass into the fire. Too late, the curious boy dropped the flaming grass and shook a burned finger in the air.
“Mother,” Maren quickly said, “I’ll take Jens down to the stream, too, while you finish supper. I’ll watch them there, and you can call us when it’s ready.”
Mother’s face softened. “Thank you, dear. It shouldn’t be more than an hour or so.”
On her way across the circle of covered wagons, Maren saw Annie sitting on an overturned bucket, idly scratching lines in the dirt with a stick. Maren had been thrilled to find another 11-year-old girl in the company of covered wagons. Together they shared their dreams of what they thought Zion would be like. They had become close friends despite being very different. Maybe Annie would like to go down to the stream too.
“Yes, Annie may go with you,” Sister Christensen said, eyeing Maren’s two brothers. “It looks as if you could use some help, anyway. Be sure to stay together, and don’t be late for dinner.”
The climb down the high bank of the ravine was steep. Years of spring flooding from the great mountains beyond had slowly cut deeper and deeper into the rolling plain, carrying the dirt far away to some distant river valley. But it was midsummer now, and only a thin trail of water wandered down the streambed. The ravine would probably be completely dry by fall.
“Surely there’s deeper water than this!” Annie made a face at the shallow stream. “Maybe there’s a pool around that bend.” She headed downstream. Whooping, Jens slapped his make-believe horse and galloped out of sight behind her.
“Wait for us!” Maren shouted. She hoisted little Rasmus up onto her hip and struggled along as fast as she could. But her brother and her friend weren’t just around the bend when she got there. They weren’t around the next one, either.
When Maren finally found them, Annie was joyfully wading through a lovely pool. Jens was staring at frog eggs he’d found clinging to the grass at the edge of the water. Annie splashed water at Maren and laughed. “Come on, slowpokes. There’s even a sandy bottom.”
In no time, there was no dirt at all left on the boys. Rasmus’s cheeks were pink from the scrubbing, and his hair was shiny in the sun.
Contented, the two girls sat in the soothing quiet and watched the boys toss pebbles into the pool, making ripples that rocked leaf boats across the crystal surface. If it hadn’t been so quiet, they never would have heard the whistle. It drifted ever so faintly down to them—two shorts and a long.
Annie looked up curiously. “What kind of bird was that?”
At once alert, Maren stood up. “It sounds like Father. In Denmark that was his signal for me to herd the cows back to the farm. We’d better go back now.”
“But it hasn’t been near an hour since we left camp,” Annie protested. “Just think how long it’s been since we’ve been able to enjoy water like this!” Annie’s pretty mouth was beginning to pout.
The whistle came again—two shorts and one long. Maren searched the top of the ravine. She put her fingers to her lips and blew a piercing whistle in reply. “I’m sure that’s Father. We need to go and find out what he wants. Come on, Rasmus,” she coaxed. “You, too, Jens. Father must have some reason for us to come now.”
Annie’s face was as dark and cloudy as the western sky. “No!” she protested again. “You go if you want. I’ll stay here a while longer. Your father has work for you to do, not me.”
“But your mother said we must stay together. I can’t leave you here alone. We must go. Please come, Annie. Please?” Maren’s kind eyes begged Annie.
They heard the whistle once more. It was closer now.
Annie could not resist Maren’s worried expression. “Very well,” she finally said with a sigh. “You’re probably right. You usually are. Let’s go.”
With a relieved smile, Maren led the way to the wall of the ravine. With some difficulty the four children scrambled up the steep bank. At the top, they could see three men running toward them along the edge of the ravine.
As the children paused to catch their breath, even above their own puffing, they could hear a grating roar. Frightened, they looked everywhere but could not tell where the terrifying sound was coming from. Seeing that two of the three men hurrying toward them were their fathers, they ran to meet them.
Then they saw what was making the strange noise. Rushing and crashing down the ravine was a 10-foot-high wall of water! The heavy rain of the mountain thunderstorm had funneled into the ravine and tumbled trees and boulders before it as if they were feathers. Ripping out sagebrush and whole chunks of earth from the steep banks of the stream, the raging torrent swept up everything in its path, roaring past them and around the bend to where the cool, quiet pool lay with leaf boats floating on its glassy surface.
Father knelt to gather his shivering children into his strong arms. “I thought we’d never find you,” he choked, blinking his eyes to clear the wetness.
Annie tearfully hugged her own father closely and whispered, “It was Maren who saved us. She heard and obeyed.”

Imagine living in a city planned by a dictator. The dictator imports thousands of people from throughout the country to create a worker city, filled with row after row of gray apartment buildings and enormous factories spewing black clouds from tall smokestacks. Freedom of any kind, but especially freedom of religion, is practically nonexistent.
Until just a few years ago, Dunaújváros, Hungary, a small city on the Danube River, was such a place. But now, after a generation without religion, young people are learning about the plan of salvation.
What began as a small branch in 1989, has now grown to two branches, 230 members strong. Many of these new converts are youth, and like the Saints in the days of Joseph Smith, these members are discovering the newness and beauty of the gospel—and telling others about it.
Twenty-year-old Csapó András was one of the earliest converts. (Hungarian surnames are used first, followed by the given name.) Baptized in 1989 at age 15, he is now the seminary teacher in his branch and is preparing to serve a full-time mission.
As he welcomes his class members to seminary this evening, 13 students arrange their chairs around a table covered with their well-used copies of the Book of Mormon. They sing “I Am a Child of God.” A young woman offers the opening prayer.
Since the Church is so new here, everyone is a recent convert. Seven of these students have been members for two years, five for only a year. Three are the only members of the Church in their families. Four have brought parents into the Church.
Two young women in this seminary class, both 16, are named Brigitta. “From my classmate Seres Brigitta I heard about the Church for the first time,” says Bozó Brigitta. “I began attending sacrament meeting and made a lot of friends here. So when youth conference came, I naturally thought I needed to go. At the conference, I felt for the first time that I needed to belong to this church. I was baptized a week later.”
Two months after Brigitta’s own baptism, her mother and her 15-year-old brother, László, were baptized. (Her father had died six years earlier.) “Now the three of us—our whole family—are members of the Church. It’s wonderful!”
“At first I thought just my friend would be baptized,” says her classmate Seres Brigitta. “I was amazed that her family also joined the Church.”
When an LDS classmate invited Horváth Attila, 16, to sacrament meeting, Attila liked what he saw.
“Then, when my friend told me the Church was very family-centered, I became even more interested.”
Within weeks, Attila was baptized.
Three months later, his father asked to hear the discussions. “I knew enough about the Church by that time,” says Attila, “that I could help my father learn about it. The knowledge I had received in seminary helped me explain the scriptures to him. But since he smoked and drank coffee a lot, I didn’t have the faith that he would be baptized. I was amazed when I saw how—with the help of our Heavenly Father—he was able to rid those things from his life. Two months later, I baptized my father!
“Then when my mother saw how happy my father and I were in the Church, she also started to be interested. I baptized her three months after baptizing my father! The next day, my whole family came to church and bore their testimonies. It’s not possible to describe what kind of feeling it was for me.”
As these young people are converted to the gospel, they help one another remain strong. Last summer, Klein Kinga, 19, and another young member of the Church found employment away from home. “There weren’t any other Church members around—just the two of us and the world,” she says. “We had a lot of adversity. When we came home in the evenings, we always prayed together, read together from the Book of Mormon, and waited for the letters we received from our Church friends here in Dunaújváros. These things helped us endure that difficult time.”
Balatoni Gábor and Borsos Péter, both 18, had a similar experience while working away from home. “All around us, others smoked, drank, used vulgar language, and had other unworthy habits. At first, it was difficult for us,” says Gábor. “Then we found a place where we could pray together each day. It helped a lot.”
One afternoon, Vereckei Krisztina, 16, was home alone. “I love to feel the Holy Ghost, to feel that this church is true,” she says. “But that day, I wasn’t feeling it, and I missed it a lot.” She tried listening to Church music, reading the Book of Mormon, and praying. But for some reason, she still wasn’t feeling the Spirit.
“I went to visit my friend Seres Brigitta,” she says. “I asked her to come and walk with me. As we walked, we talked about Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father. Without thinking about it, I told her my testimony, and she told me hers. We sat on a city bench for two or three hours, sharing our testimonies with each other. I felt the Holy Ghost and felt that my testimony had been strengthened. I was very happy after that.”
Seminary provides regular opportunities for these testimony-building and unifying experiences. “There are two important reasons why I think seminary is an important program,” says Borsos Éva, 16. “First, if you prepare for seminary, you have to read from the Book of Mormon regularly. And this is a good thing. Second, seminary gives us opportunities to be together. The youth in this branch are strong and are close to one another—and we can thank the seminary program for this. When we share testimonies with each other—and we do this a lot—it’s very worthwhile. About a week ago in our seminary class, we had a testimony meeting, and the Spirit was very strong. This gives me a lot of strength.”
Other milestones were trips to the Freiberg Germany Temple in April and August 1994 to be baptized for the dead. Latter-day Saint youth from all over Hungary crowded onto buses to make the 22-hour journey. Then they returned home with a mission: to tell others about it so everyone could share in the power and beauty of the experience.
“I didn’t know the people I was being baptized for,” says Somodi Zsuzsanna, 18. “But about halfway through I suddenly felt the Spirit. I felt that perhaps that person had accepted the gospel in the spirit world and had been waiting for somebody to be baptized in her name.”
Where there was once only gray industry, seminary students in Dunaújváros are now finding the beauty in their city. They are learning to rejoice in their newfound gift. They are striving to share it with others.
“There’s no feeling more wonderful,” says Vereckei Krisztina, 16, “than knowing that our Heavenly Father loves us.”
These Hungarian seminary students—singing a new song in their city on the Danube—have that assurance.

When our son Marco was three years old, he and I suffered a serious bout of food poisoning. Marco became so sick that he fell unconscious. My wife, Marianela, and I rushed him to the hospital. By the time we arrived, he looked like he was dead. Finally, after about four hours, he regained consciousness.
From then on, Marco suffered seizures off and on for the next five years. When we took him to bed each evening, we wondered if in the middle of the night, we would again have to rush him to the hospital. We had a difficult time sleeping during those stressful years, and we relied on prayer, faith, fasting, and priesthood blessings.
When Marco was about six, Marianela called me at work and told me to hurry to the hospital. Marco had suffered a serious seizure and was in a coma. When she called, I was working on the renovation of the Argentina Missionary Training Center, located adjacent to the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple.
Before I left for the hospital, a friend and fellow worker said, “Since we’re so close to the house of the Lord, why don’t we pray together first?” The temple was closed for renovation and expansion, but we approached the Lord’s house, where I prayed for Marco.
Despite everything we had gone through with Marco, I felt gratitude to God for the time Marianela and I had been able to share with him. As I prayed, I told Heavenly Father that we had tried to be good parents and had taken care of Marco the best we could. I also told Him that we would accept His will if He called Marco home.
When I arrived at the hospital, I didn’t know if Marco would survive the coma or, if he came out of it, whether he would be able to walk or talk again. After a grueling two hours, he awoke. He was exhausted, but he was all right. From then on, miraculously, he improved. Eventually, Marco was weaned off his medication and released for good from the hospital.
Marianela and I look back on that difficult time grateful that we still have Marco and grateful for the things we learned. Our trial united us and made us stronger spiritually. Without it, we might not have learned to recognize the many ways the Lord shows His hand in our lives.
As Marianela says, “We saw a mountain of evidence and experiences that have given us a testimony of the presence of God, that He is with us and that He listens to us. If we endure and have patience, blessings can come when we least expect them.”

Once upon a time, in a ward you know, a visitor attended on an average Sunday. It was a happy, pleasant ward, with great diversity. Children, youth, and adults of many ages sat together in sacrament meeting. The building seemed well kept, the leaders well organized, the lessons well taught. The visitor thought as she observed, “What lucky people live in this ward. What a warm, inviting place this must be. They must truly love one another.” She decided to come again, not to look but to listen to what these people said about their relationships.
This is what she heard the next Sunday.
One Relief Society counselor said to the other, “I’ve decided our singles bring their problems on themselves. We reach out to them, but they don’t respond. Sometimes I wish we didn’t have so many in our ward.”
One young adult asked another, “Don’t you just hate Relief Society? It is always so boring. The women are all old, and they only talk about married women’s stuff.”
A grandmother said to her friend, “I hear they’re reorganizing the Primary. I hope they don’t call us. We’ve raised our families. It’s the young mothers’ turn to work in Primary.”
The Laurel advisor told the Beehive advisor, “Since I have been in Young Women, I feel Relief Society ignores me. They’ve forgotten those of us who aren’t in class every Sunday.”
A recently returned missionary complained to his friend, “The girls in this ward are the worst. Why do they expect me to attend Young Adult activities in this stake when the female population is so bad?”
The Primary president said to her counselor, “I wish they would quit stealing our best teachers. We just get them trained, and the bishop gives them another calling.”
An elder who taught the gospel doctrine class told the Sunday School president, “These manuals are awful. What is wrong with the people at Church headquarters? Just because some areas of the world are new to the gospel doesn’t mean the rest of us should be stuck with these outlines.”
A visiting teacher commented to her friend, “I can’t believe the new district they gave me. Two of the women are my friends, and I feel stupid giving them a spiritual message. I don’t even know the rest of my district, so I really feel stupid trying to give a spiritual thought to these strangers.”
The Relief Society president said to the bishop, “We work so hard, and the sisters just don’t appreciate it. They don’t seem interested. They don’t even seem to care. I don’t feel the sisterhood in the Relief Society I used to feel.”
The visitor left the ward feeling downhearted. “Why?” she mused. “Why do these fine people label each other? Why do I hear so much talk of ‘them and us’ and so little ‘my sister and my brother’? Why do they miss the joy of loving one another?”
My dear sisters and brothers, I am that visitor, and I have asked those questions many times as I’ve heard all those comments in wards I’ve visited this past year. Happily, in those same wards I’ve heard and seen much of love and rejoicing in the restored gospel. I never return home that I don’t thank our Heavenly Father for the good people who populate this earth. But to my dismay, the “them and us” mentality is alive and well, pervasive and limiting.

I was told once of a young man who for many years was more or less the brunt of every joke in his school. He had some disadvantages, and it was easy for his peers to tease him. Later in his life he moved away from his community. He eventually joined the army and had some successful experiences there in getting an education and generally stepping away from his past. Above all, as many in the military do, he discovered the beauty and majesty of the Church and became very active and happy in it.

Then, after several years, he came back to the town of his youth. Most of his generation had moved on, but not all. Apparently when he returned quite successful and quite reborn, the same old mind-set that had existed before was still there, waiting for his return. To the people in his hometown he was still just old “so and so”—you remember the guy who had the problem, that idiosyncrasy, this quirky nature, and did such and such and such and such. And wasn’t it all just hilarious?

Well, you know what happened. Little by little this man’s Pauline effort to leave that which was behind and grasp the prize that God had laid before him was gradually diminished until he died about the way he had lived in his youth. He came full circle: again inactive and unhappy and the brunt of a new generation of jokes. Yet he had had that one bright, beautiful midlife moment when he had been able to rise above his past and truly see who he was and what he could become. Too bad, too sad, that he was again to be surrounded by a whole batch of Lot’s wives, those who thought his past was more interesting than his future. Yes, they managed to rip out of his grasp that for which Christ had grasped him. And he died even more sadly than Miniver Cheevy, though as far as I know the story, through absolutely no fault of his own.

Many of Samoa’s early Saints were exiled, persecuted and even executed for their faith. In 1904, prophet and President of the Church, Joseph F. Smith (1838–1918), directed the purchase of 800 fertile acres up in the green hills of rural Upolu. This land would provide a refuge for members of the Church.
The people praised the Lord for His kindness and dedicated the 800 acres with a prayer that it might “become a choice land and a fit place for Saints to gather and become a choice people of the Lord.” They then voted to call this place: “Sauniatu,” which means “prepare to go forth.”
Starting over wasn’t easy but the early villagers moved forward in faith, planting crops, building homes and chapels, and founding a school for their children.

If you feel burdened or unsure about your responsibilities at home, the Lord can bless you to know what to do. At one particularly stressful time in my life, I felt like the daily load was more than I could bear. One night I had a dream—I saw myself placing a large bundle at the feet of each of my children. When I woke the next morning, I realized my children were responsible for their agency, not me, and that it was good for them to share in the work of our home. But I still had a very large bundle and wondered how I could manage it. Amazingly, the next night I had another dream, and this time I saw myself placing my bundle at the feet of the Savior. How I love Him. I’m thankful for the opportunities I’ve had over the years to draw closer to the Savior as a result of working, learning, and growing in my home.

I stayed out of the race for popularity for the first half of high school—not because I wanted to, but because I knew I wasn’t cool enough to compete. I would watch from the sidelines and tell myself, “Oh, popularity is such a waste of time,” but deep down I wished the “cool kids” would see me.
As time went on, I got tired of having a small circle of friends. So I decided to change the way I looked and acted, hoping to catch the attention of the “cooler” kids I wanted to be friends with. I significantly moved up the social food chain, but it came at a price—I made a lot of bad decisions to finally get noticed.
For a little while, it felt good to be popular! But it honestly didn’t take long for me to see that popularity was an illusion—the people I was surrounding myself with didn’t actually care about me. They were all just trying to win the social race for themselves.
I felt lonely even among my “friends,” and when I finally took a break from this pointless race, I realized how thin my connection to God had become.
I’m not the first person to fall into the popularity trap, and I know popularity is not the only trap Satan sets to distract us from building and maintaining our relationship with God. Money, possessions, and worldly obsessions are all things I’ve seen Satan try to lure us with. His goal is to slowly lead us away until we’re so far that we feel unforgivable and undeserving of even being children of God (see 2 Nephi 28:21).
But even when we can’t see it ourselves, Jesus Christ sees who we truly are. He says to us, “Thou wast precious in my sight” (Isaiah 43:4) and “Thou art mine” (Isaiah 43:1).
Sister Amy A. Wright, First Counselor in the Primary General Presidency, says, “Often the scriptures give only a small portion of someone’s life, and based on that portion, we sometimes tend to exalt or condemn. No one’s life can be understood by one magnificent moment or one regrettable public disappointment. The purpose of these scriptural accounts is to help us see that Jesus Christ was the answer then, and He is the answer now. He knows our complete story and exactly what we suffer, as well as our capabilities and vulnerabilities.”1
This message was a huge reminder for me that although I’d made big mistakes and had wandered from the path, Jesus Christ saw me where I was, loved me still, and had a way back for me.
I believe Heavenly Father saw me heading in the wrong direction during high school and reached out to me by inspiring my parents. They noticed that I wasn’t myself anymore and that a lot of the light I used to have inside was missing. So, my mom asked if we could start having one-on-one scripture study together every night. I agreed, even though I hadn’t personally studied the scriptures for a while.
At first it felt like reading a chapter each night wasn’t making much of a difference; however, after a few months, I looked back and realized how far I’d come in strengthening my connection with God. I noticed an increase in my baseline level of happiness, and it became easier to let go of those friends who weren’t good influences.
Refamiliarizing myself with the scriptures has been a great blessing. I especially love the story of Alma the Younger and his incredible change of heart (see Alma 36:6–24). In my scripture journal I wrote this about his story: “God freely forgives anyone who repents. All we have to do is reach out. Those who leave the path are welcome back as soon as they make an effort to return.”
I know now that changing ourselves for the popular things of the world can be tempting but can also take us away from the path that leads to true happiness. The only changes that will give us the sense of belonging and fulfillment we seek are the ones that strengthen our connection to Heavenly Father. Like Brother Bradley R. Wilcox, Second Counselor in the Young Men General Presidency, recently taught, Heavenly Father wants us to change in righteous ways because “God loves us as we are, but He also loves us too much to leave us this way.”2 I still have a long way to go to be the person Heavenly Father wants me to be, but I’m choosing to change because I love Him.

Brothers and sisters, when we met in general conference six months ago, none of us anticipated the coming changes that would tug at the heartstrings of the entire Church. Elder L. Tom Perry delivered a powerful message about the irreplaceable role that marriage and family occupy in the Lord’s plan. We were stunned when just a few days later, we learned of the cancer that would soon take him from us.

Though President Boyd K. Packer’s health had been declining, he continued to “soldier on” in the work of the Lord. He was frail last April, yet he was determined to declare his witness as long as he had breath. Then, just 34 days after Elder Perry’s passing, President Packer also stepped across the veil.

We missed Elder Richard G. Scott at our last general conference, but we’ve reflected upon the powerful witness of the Savior he had borne in many previous conferences. And just 12 days ago, Elder Scott was called home and reunited with his beloved Jeanene.

I had the privilege of being with all of these Brethren during their final days, including joining members of President Packer’s and Elder Scott’s immediate families just before their passing. It has been difficult for me to believe that these three treasured friends, these magnificent servants of the Lord, are gone. I miss them more than I can say.

As I’ve reflected on this unexpected turn of events, one of the impressions that has lingered with me is that which I observed in these surviving wives. Etched in my mind are the serene images of Sister Donna Smith Packer and Sister Barbara Dayton Perry at their husbands’ bedsides, both women filled with love, truth, and pure faith.

As Sister Packer sat next to her husband in his final hours, she radiated that peace that passes all understanding. Though she realized that her beloved companion of almost 70 years would soon depart, she showed the tranquility of a faith-filled woman. She seemed angelic, just as she was in this photo of them at the dedication of the Brigham City Utah Temple.

I saw that same kind of love and faith emanating from Sister Perry. Her devotion to both her husband and the Lord was obvious, and it moved me deeply.

Through their husbands’ final hours and continuing to the present day, these stalwart women have shown the strength and courage that covenant-keeping women always demonstrate. It would be impossible to measure the influence that such women have, not only on families but also on the Lord’s Church, as wives, mothers, and grandmothers; as sisters and aunts; as teachers and leaders; and especially as exemplars and devout defenders of the faith.

This has been true in every gospel dispensation since the days of Adam and Eve. Yet the women of this dispensation are distinct from the women of any other because this dispensation is distinct from any other. This distinction brings both privileges and responsibilities.

Thirty-six years ago, in 1979, President Spencer W. Kimball made a profound prophecy about the impact that covenant-keeping women would have on the future of the Lord’s Church. He prophesied: “Much of the major growth that is coming to the Church in the last days will come because many of the good women of the world … will be drawn to the Church in large numbers. This will happen to the degree that the women of the Church reflect righteousness and articulateness in their lives and to the degree that the women of the Church are seen as distinct and different—in happy ways—from the women of the world.”

My dear sisters, you who are our vital associates during this winding-up scene, the day that President Kimball foresaw is today. You are the women he foresaw! Your virtue, light, love, knowledge, courage, character, faith, and righteous lives will draw good women of the world, along with their families, to the Church in unprecedented numbers!

We, your brethren, need your strength, your conversion, your conviction, your ability to lead, your wisdom, and your voices. The kingdom of God is not and cannot be complete without women who make sacred covenants and then keep them, women who can speak with the power and authority of God!

President Packer declared:
“We need women who are organized and women who can organize. We need women with executive ability who can plan and direct and administer; women who can teach, women who can speak out. …

“We need women with the gift of discernment who can view the trends in the world and detect those that, however popular, are shallow or dangerous.”

Today, let me add that we need women who know how to make important things happen by their faith and who are courageous defenders of morality and families in a sin-sick world. We need women who are devoted to shepherding God’s children along the covenant path toward exaltation; women who know how to receive personal revelation, who understand the power and peace of the temple endowment; women who know how to call upon the powers of heaven to protect and strengthen children and families; women who teach fearlessly.

Throughout my life, I have been blessed by such women. My departed wife, Dantzel, was such a woman. I will always be grateful for the life-changing influence she had on me in all aspects of my life, including my pioneering efforts in open-heart surgery.

Fifty-eight years ago I was asked to operate upon a little girl, gravely ill from congenital heart disease. Her older brother had previously died of a similar condition. Her parents pleaded for help. I was not optimistic about the outcome but vowed to do all in my power to save her life. Despite my best efforts, the child died. Later, the same parents brought another daughter to me, then just 16 months old, also born with a malformed heart. Again, at their request, I performed an operation. This child also died. This third heartbreaking loss in one family literally undid me.

I went home grief stricken. I threw myself upon our living room floor and cried all night long. Dantzel stayed by my side, listening as I repeatedly declared that I would never perform another heart operation. Then, around 5:00 in the morning, Dantzel looked at me and lovingly asked, “Are you finished crying? Then get dressed. Go back to the lab. Go to work! You need to learn more. If you quit now, others will have to painfully learn what you already know.”

Oh, how I needed my wife’s vision, grit, and love! I went back to work and learned more. If it weren’t for Dantzel’s inspired prodding, I would not have pursued open-heart surgery and would not have been prepared to do the operation in 1972 that saved the life of President Spencer W. Kimball.

Sisters, do you realize the breadth and scope of your influence when you speak those things that come to your heart and mind as directed by the Spirit? A superb stake president told me of a stake council meeting in which they were wrestling with a difficult challenge. At one point, he realized that the stake Primary president had not spoken, so he asked if she had any impressions. “Well, actually I have,” she said and then proceeded to share a thought that changed the entire direction of the meeting. The stake president continued, “As she spoke, the Spirit testified to me that she had given voice to the revelation we had been seeking as a council.”

My dear sisters, whatever your calling, whatever your circumstances, we need your impressions, your insights, and your inspiration. We need you to speak up and speak out in ward and stake councils. We need each married sister to speak as “a contributing and full partner” as you unite with your husband in governing your family. Married or single, you sisters possess distinctive capabilities and special intuition you have received as gifts from God. We brethren cannot duplicate your unique influence.

We know that the culminating act of all creation was the creation of woman! We need your strength!

Attacks against the Church, its doctrine, and our way of life are going to increase. Because of this, we need women who have a bedrock understanding of the doctrine of Christ and who will use that understanding to teach and help raise a sin-resistant generation. We need women who can detect deception in all of its forms. We need women who know how to access the power that God makes available to covenant keepers and who express their beliefs with confidence and charity. We need women who have the courage and vision of our Mother Eve.

My dear sisters, nothing is more crucial to your eternal life than your own conversion. It is converted, covenant-keeping women—women like my dear wife Wendy—whose righteous lives will increasingly stand out in a deteriorating world and who will thus be seen as different and distinct in the happiest of ways.

So today I plead with my sisters of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to step forward! Take your rightful and needful place in your home, in your community, and in the kingdom of God—more than you ever have before. I plead with you to fulfill President Kimball’s prophecy. And I promise you in the name of Jesus Christ that as you do so, the Holy Ghost will magnify your influence in an unprecedented way!

I bear witness of the reality of the Lord Jesus Christ and of His redeeming, atoning, and sanctifying power. And as one of His Apostles, I thank you, my dear sisters, and bless you to rise to your full stature, to fulfill the measure of your creation, as we walk arm in arm in this sacred work. Together we will help prepare the world for the Second Coming of the Lord. Of this I testify, as your brother, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Keryn stuffed an extra pair of jeans into her suitcase, then squeezed it shut.
“There!” she said to herself.
She had been looking forward to the school trip for months. Her class would be at camp for two days, living like pioneers—making candles, cooking over fires, even helping to build a log cabin.
Keryn glanced around the room, trying to spot anything she had missed. Her toothbrush was packed. She had clean clothes and an extra pair of shoes—oh, she’d better grab her old sweatshirt.
As she picked up her sweatshirt off the floor, her eyes fell on her scriptures on the table by the bed, and she froze.
Each member of her family had agreed to read the Book of Mormon daily, and so far Keryn hadn’t missed a night. But how was she supposed to read it in a cabin full of girls from school? With a sigh, she unlatched her suitcase, stuffed her scriptures between T-shirts and jeans, and sat on the suitcase to close it. Maybe she could find some quiet time to go off by herself and read.
“C’mon, Keryn. Race you to the campfire!” Sarah took off, and Keryn ran to catch up.
The day had been fun and very busy. Keryn had chopped at a log to help build the cabin, dunked candlewicks into wax over and over, carved a whale out of soap, and swum in the lake.
The fun carried on through the campfire time of singing songs and listening to a storyteller. Finally, Keryn, Sarah, and two of their cabinmates marched through the darkness to the cabin arm in arm, singing loudly.
The girls flopped onto their bunk beds, told stories, and laughed about the day. Then one by one they began to get ready for bed.
Keryn brushed her teeth, then climbed onto her top bunk and listened to the others. She had decided to leave her scriptures in the suitcase, but she just didn’t feel right. Then these words came into her mind: “Read them. You know you need to read them.”
Reluctantly, Keryn climbed out of bed and pulled her scriptures out of her suitcase. Then she climbed back up and tried to open the Book of Mormon without being noticed.
No such luck. She had just found her place in Mosiah when Sarah poked her head over the edge of the bunk. “What are you reading?” she asked.
“OK,” Keryn told herself, “it’s time to be a missionary.”
“It’s a book like the Bible, and it’s called the Book of Mormon,” she said aloud.
Sarah climbed up on the bunk with her. “What’s it about?”
Carol and Tasha gathered around, too.
Keryn sat up. “Well, right now I’m in a part called Mosiah, and a prophet named Abinadi is preaching the gospel to the wicked king and his priests. He’s telling them about the Ten Commandments and all the things they should already know. But they’re doing evil things instead.” She scooted over so Tasha could climb up.
“What happens to them?” Tasha asked.
“Well, later Abinadi won’t deny God, so the king has him killed.”
“What?” exclaimed Sarah. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah, it’s really sad,” Keryn agreed. “But Alma, one of the king’s priests, really listens to Abinadi. He ends up teaching the gospel to lots of people.”
“That’s awesome,” Tasha said. “I read my Bible most days, but I didn’t bring it here.” Then she flipped onto her stomach and reached down to the bottom bunk. “Hey, Carol, did you see me jump in the lake?”
Keryn smiled as the conversation turned back to the day’s events. She was glad she hadn’t left her scriptures in her suitcase, glad her friends didn’t make fun of her, and glad she had a chance to tell them about the Book of Mormon.
She looked at Sarah, Carol, and Tasha, now talking about their craft projects, then turned back to her book and continued reading about Abinadi and King Noah.

When the temple was first being built, the Saints thought that at last they had found a place where they could live the gospel and worship in peace. Then, on June 27, 1844, Joseph and Hyrum Smith were murdered in Carthage Jail by an angry mob. Grief-stricken, the members wondered what they would do without Joseph to lead them.
At the time, most of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles were in the east on missions. Two days before the murders, Parley P. Pratt, one of the Twelve, was impressed to leave New York and return to Nauvoo. He learned of the martyrdom on his journey home. As he walked across the plains of Illinois, filled with sorrow and wondering how to comfort the members in Nauvoo, he stopped and prayed for help. He wrote, “The Spirit said unto me: … ‘Go and say unto my people in Nauvoo, that they shall continue … to build the House of the Lord which I have commanded them to build in Nauvoo.’”
Because the members carried on so well and the temple was still being built despite the death of the prophet, anti-Mormons increased their persecution of the members and made attempts to drive away the Saints. And so, on September 24, 1845, the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles announced that the Saints would leave the following spring. Even though the members knew that they would again be forced to leave their temple behind, they worked harder than ever to finish it. They wanted very much to receive its sacred ordinances before moving west.
Rooms in the temple were dedicated as soon as they were completed so that ordinance work could be performed immediately. The October 1845 general conference was held in the partly finished building. Brigham Young offered the opening prayer, calling the temple “a monument of the saints’ liberality [generosity], fidelity, and faith.” He and Heber C. Kimball began giving endowments to faithful Latter-day Saints on December 10, and so many people wanted to receive them that endowment sessions were continued until three o’clock the next morning.
The Church’s enemies, upon seeing all the activity at the temple, tried to have Brigham Young arrested. On December 23, government officials waited outside the temple to arrest him. Learning that they were there, Brigham prayed for guidance and protection so that he could “live to prove advantageous to the Saints.” Then he saw William Miller, a man his same height, nearby.
Brother Miller agreed to act as a decoy. He wore Brigham’s cloak and climbed into Brigham’s carriage. The officers arrested him and took him to the Mansion House, where the Church members also pretended that he was Brigham Young. It wasn’t till his captors had taken him to Carthage that someone identified him! Meanwhile, Brigham Young and the other Apostles had gone into hiding.
The Brethren endowed as many faithful members as possible before leaving Nauvoo. In January 1846, Brigham Young wrote, “Such has been the anxiety manifested by the Saints to receive the ordinances [of the temple], and such the anxiety on our part to administer to them, that I have given myself up entirely to the work of the Lord in the Temple night and day, not taking more than four hours sleep, upon an average, per day, and going home but once a week.”
On February 3, Church leaders had planned to stop the ordinance work. Brigham Young left the temple to make final preparations to leave for the West the next day, but when he saw a large crowd gathered to receive their endowments, he returned to the temple to serve them. This kept him there another two weeks! More than five thousand Saints received their endowments before heading west.
The Nauvoo Temple was dedicated privately on the night of April 30, 1846. Orson Hyde, one of the Twelve Apostles, dedicated it publicly the next day, even though only a few members were still in Nauvoo to see it, most of the Saints having already started the trek west. By the end of the year, the majestic temple stood unused. Two years after the Saints left Nauvoo, an arsonist set fire to the temple, and in 1850 a tornado destroyed three of the walls. The remaining wall was leveled in 1865 for safety reasons.
Soon after the Saints settled in Utah, they began the construction of the Salt Lake, St. George, Manti, and Logan Temples. The St. George Temple, completed in 1877, was the first temple to be built in the west—and the first temple the Saints were not forced to leave.

I think back with fond memories to my childhood in Scotland, when we would often celebrate Easter by going for a picnic with my family. We went up the Sidlaw Hills and, once settled, we would begin the egg ritual. My granny would have spent considerable time boiling eggs the night before, with different concoctions to make them different colours. The eggs would all have various expressions drawn on them, and wool would sometimes be stuck on for hair. I probably had some chocolate eggs as well, but I can’t really remember them–what you hold in your memory is the love and effort that goes into something, rather than how good it tastes. I knew that I was loved by these people who found it impossible to tell me in any other way but this.