Gospel Story Finder

But wait, there’s more to the story.
Now let’s say you’re on the Skyline team, the team that always wins. You’re a free safety, and in the final play, you’re the guy who’s supposed to be covering Jake, to keep him from catching the winning pass. For some reason, you slow down, and you don’t cover him as well as you might. You see the ball coming for him. If he catches the pass, his team wins the state championship, and your team loses. If he drops the pass, it doesn’t matter how well you covered him, because your team will have won again.
He drops the pass.
What’s your first reaction? Do you breathe a sigh of relief, jump for joy, shout “Hooray,” and join your teammates in an exuberant dance of triumph, slapping each other on the back and carrying people off the field on your shoulders while singing, “We’re number one”?
Not if you’re Ryan Smith. Ryan had a different reaction. Naturally, he realized his team had just won the state championship. But then, “I turned around and saw him on the ground.”
After Jake dropped the pass, he dropped to the ground, tore off his helmet, and covered his head with his arms and hands to block out the deafening roar coming from the Skyline fans and players. Ryan Smith, whose team had just won, put off celebrating with his teammates for a few seconds. He leaned over Jake, put his hand on his back, and said, “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. You’re the reason your team’s here. You had a great game.”
Would you have done that?
Ryan is from Sandy, Utah, and he says what he did “was just a natural reaction.” He credits his coaches for helping make him that way. “They don’t just teach us how to play the game of football,” he says. “They teach us how to be good men, and how to be good in life.” Then, sounding a lot like Jake in his humility, Ryan adds, “Anybody on our team probably would have done the same thing I did if they had been in the same situation.”
His parents were behind Ryan too. “They said they were more proud of me for what I did than for the state championship.”
In the perfect world, a friendship would have been formed between these two. Unfortunately, they had never met until this picture was taken. For that matter, Jake didn’t even hear what Ryan was saying because of the cheering. “I knew someone was there, but I didn’t see him,” Jake says.
But the angels noticed it, and so did many of the fans, particularly after footage of the game was shown on the local news. Like Jake, Ryan received several letters. One woman told Ryan in her letter that he had been “an inspiration for so many. You were the true hero.”
Ryan, of course, is rather embarrassed by all the attention he got just for doing what came naturally. He says, “It wasn’t until the next few days that I realized it was such a big deal to people.”
Is it important? Yes, because each action defines who we are and the supreme example we choose to follow. Yes, it’s important.
Both players remain humble despite all the attention. Both plan to serve missions. Both have learned that it’s more important to show true character than it is to win.
And you thought football was just a game.

There is another important dimension of learning to laugh at yourself. It lies in not being afraid to make a mistake. When I was a young bishop, we sought to have a ward choir. We had a good choir because our leader, Brother Alex Anderson, was a good leader. He, however, encouraged the bishop to sing in the choir, at some risk. I felt that as a measure of support for Brother Anderson and the others that I would try to sing with them. Things went from bad to worse. Brother Anderson liked to invite the choir members to improve their talents by singing solos. One Sunday during choir practice he asked that the bishop sing a small solo. I found it very difficult to turn Brother Anderson down in front of the whole choir, when the others who were not very good singers had made a 100 percent effort, so during sacrament meeting the choir sang and I tried. I was literally so frightened and upset that the paper trembled in my hands. I could hardly hold it. I felt embarrassed and I felt humiliated. All of my mask of dignity was gone. After the meeting, as I walked down the aisle, I was met with warm smiles and expressions of understanding and support. Someone said, “Bishop, it surely makes us feel good to see you scared.” That day the bishop became more human.

In March 1989 I was seriously ill in a hospital in Wismar, in what was then the German Democratic Republic. At the age of ninety-four, I felt completely helpless and had lost all desire to live. In my prayers, I constantly asked God to take me home.
Seeing my pain, my daughter visited me from Hamburg. On each visit, she tried to give me new hope, encouraging me to hold on. Eventually, she and my son-in-law checked me out of the hospital and brought me into their home.
I had always admired my daughter’s strength and confidence. When I asked about her strength, she said that it came from attending church every Sunday. She had joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints years before, but I had not felt any interest in her new religion. I didn’t want to abandon my Protestant church.
Now that I was in her home, my daughter began telling me about the Church and reading to me out of the scriptures. She also invited two lady missionaries to tell me more. I enjoyed the visits of these sweet sisters, and through our discussions I eventually gained a conviction that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is indeed the only true church.
So I let myself be baptized on 27 August 1989. There I was—ninety-four years old and born again!
The change I felt was immediate and wonderful. I knew that I would still have to suffer pain but that I could ask the Lord to help me stay faithful to the end. I also knew that our Heavenly Father knows when we will return to him. It was his will that I make the baptism covenant with him in this life.

In addition to digging, Abram has another great love—the Book of Mormon. When his younger sister passed away in 2005, Abram read the Book of Mormon for comfort. He says, “As I started reading it more, I really got interested, and now I’m studying more and more.”
Abram has learned a lot while studying. “It gave me a stronger testimony when Christ came to teach the people. And it talked about a lot of things that He taught that we still do today. That was a big leap in my testimony. It was really special,” he says.

“Kids, I’m leaving now,” Mom called from downstairs. “David is in charge.”
“Bye, Mom,” I yelled. I was trying to finish my math homework so I could watch my favorite TV show. We weren’t allowed to watch TV until our homework was done. I solved the last problem, then snapped the book shut. “Finished!”
I strolled into the family room, settled into the couch, and clicked on the TV.
Suddenly, my older brother David barreled into the room. He grabbed the remote control and pushed me off the couch.
“Ow!” I cried as I hit the floor with a thud. “Hey, I was here first!”
“Yeah, but Mom left me in charge. And I say we’re going to watch my favorite show.”
“Fine,” I said. “I have a new book I want to read, anyway.” I walked back to my room. Pulling the book off a shelf, I sat in my special reading chair.
“Heather, go get me something to eat,” David called.
“I’m busy,” I called back, turning a page.
“So am I. This is the best part of the show. Go get me something to eat.”
“Why should I?” I asked. “You can do it yourself.”
“If you don’t I’ll take your book and hide it.”
I sighed. If I got him a snack, maybe he’d stop bothering me. “David is such a bully,” I thought as I grabbed some chips. “Why can’t I have a nice older brother?”
At dinner, I noticed the red plate by my seat at the table, which meant I had done something special. “Why do I have the red plate?” I asked.
“Your teacher called me today,” Mom said. “Your reading and writing skills are very good, and your teacher wants to challenge you more. So, during your class’s English section, you will go to the fourth-grade class.”
I couldn’t believe it! They were moving me up two whole grades!
“That’s my girl. So smart,” Dad said.
David didn’t say anything. He was quiet during dinner. Was he mad at me?
The next day, I was nervous as I made my way to the fourth-grade class. My teacher had given me directions and a note, then sent me off. As I made my way to the upper elementary classrooms, I felt like I was entering enemy territory. Our playgrounds didn’t even mix—first through third grade were on one side, and fourth through sixth on the other. I was sure that at any moment someone was going to shout: “Stop! You don’t belong here!”
But the fourth-grade teacher, Mrs. Randall, helped me feel better with her smiling face. She introduced me to the class and pointed me to an empty desk.
I listened carefully to the lesson, and tried not to stand out. When Mrs. Randall dismissed me, I hurried back to the safety of the second grade.
After school, I waited for the bus with the other kids.
“Hey. Hey, you!” someone yelled. I turned around and saw two girls coming toward me. I recognized them from Mrs. Randall’s class.
“Hi, little second grader,” the taller girl said. “My name is Janna, and this is Kylie. So how’d you like class today?” she asked sweetly.
“Oh, it was … fine,” I stammered.
Janna made a face. “You must think you’re so smart being in our class. Smarter than us, even.”
I looked down at my feet. “I don’t think that.”
“Good! Because you’re not smart. You’re a freak!”
“Yeah.” Kylie laughed. “And a geek.”
Janna stepped closer. “I don’t like you,” she said, “and I don’t like you in our class.”
“What’s the problem?”
I turned to find my brother David standing beside me.
Janna stepped back. “This little nerd thinks she’s smarter than me.”
“She’s not a nerd. She’s my sister.” David put his hand on my shoulder. “And she hasn’t done anything to you. If you keep being mean to her, I’m going to hear about it.”
Janna looked at my brother. He was taller and wider than she was. “What grade are you in?” she asked.
“Sixth.”
“Oh,” she said. She and Kylie took a few more steps back. “Well, OK. We’ll leave her alone.”
David turned me around and guided me to the bus. Then he went to join his friends.
I got on the bus and sat down, feeling a little dazed. I couldn’t believe it. David had stood up for me! I knew then that even though we didn’t always get along, David was my brother and he loved me. I suddenly felt very grateful for him.
At dinner that night, David seemed surprised when he noticed the red plate at his seat. “What’s this for?” he asked.
“I put it there,” I said. “It’s for being a great older brother.”
David laughed as I told our parents what had happened. I made David sound like a superhero.
“We’re proud of you for helping your sister,” Dad said.
David smiled. “It’s good to be a hero,” he said.
I grinned at him. “It’s even better to have one as an older brother.”

It was 10 minutes until show time.
Piles of fake snow covered the stage. Shiny ornaments sparkled. It was the annual Christmas show, and Charlotte was the star. Well, that’s what Mom told her. But Charlotte knew the star of the show doesn’t stand in the second row of the choir.
She would’ve been the star if the director had given her the big solo.
Near the end of the show, one singer got to sing a song all by herself. Charlotte had wanted to sing that solo more than anything. But she didn’t get to. Brianna did. And it just wasn’t fair. Everyone said Brianna had a beautiful voice, but Charlotte didn’t think Brianna sounded that good.
Charlotte plopped down next to Anne, Stacey, and Jenny. They all wore the same glittery green dresses. Charlotte thought that together they looked like a giant Christmas wreath.
“Brianna is so lucky,” Anne was saying. “They’re going to have all the spotlights on her.”
Charlotte wished they were talking about her. That she was the one in the spotlights.
“She looks kinda nervous,” Stacey said. “Maybe she’ll pass out!”
They all giggled.
“I don’t know why she got the solo,” Charlotte said. “She can’t even sing that well.”
As soon as she said it, Charlotte felt guilty. She knew she shouldn’t say mean things about anyone. But she liked the way her friends grinned at her. They had all wanted Brianna’s solo too.
Just then, their choir director swept in. “Places!” she called. “It’s show time!”
They followed her to the stage, and the show began.
Charlotte was surprised at how much fun she had. She liked singing—even from the second row. And she had to admit, Brianna did a great job. But when the show was over, she saw Brianna run from the stage.
Was she crying?
Charlotte remembered what she had said about Brianna and felt guilty again. But Brianna hadn’t heard, so it didn’t matter, right?
So why was Brianna crying?
“I’ve gotta tell you something.” Stacey grabbed Charlotte’s hand and pulled her into the changing room. “Jenny told Brianna you said she’s a bad singer.”
Charlotte felt like a lump of coal dropped into her stomach. Maybe that’s why Brianna was crying. Oh no. She hurried out of the room.
Charlotte hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. She was just talking! Why would Jenny tell Brianna? It was all Jenny’s fault!
But that wasn’t true. Charlotte knew she shouldn’t have said what she did.
Charlotte felt sick. She wanted to go home. Maybe she could just avoid Brianna. Forever.
She sighed. She knew what she had to do.
Charlotte walked outside. She saw Brianna with her family. It looked like she was still crying. Charlotte really didn’t want to face them all, but this was the right thing to do. She prayed for help and walked toward them.
“Brianna, can I talk to you?”
Everyone looked at Charlotte. They didn’t look very happy to see her, but Brianna nodded and followed Charlotte.
“Brianna, I know Jenny told you what I said, and I’m sorry,” Charlotte said.
“It was mean,” Brianna said, looking down.
“I know. And it wasn’t true. You’re a great singer,” Charlotte said. “Can you forgive me?”
Brianna smiled a little. “Do you think I did OK?”
Charlotte nodded. “You were amazing! The star of the show!”
She gave Brianna a hug before she went to find her family. Charlotte looked back to see Brianna smiling.
“Hey, Charlotte!” Brianna yelled as she got into her car. “Merry Christmas!”
Charlotte smiled. Heavenly Father had answered her prayer. Her guilty, jealous feelings were replaced with happiness that sparkled as bright as any star.

Sister Holland spoke of another very memorable experience that became “a real turning point in my life.” She said, “My parents had allowed me to come to Salt Lake City and live with a group of girls for the summer while I worked. They were all about my age. We had many happy times together, but in our apartment at one time we felt despondency and discouragement, and I remember feeling it so strongly one day that I decided to fast and pray about how to be happy, how to find the peace and security and confidence that a person needs. That evening my roommates and I decided to go to a movie. We first went to a grocery store to get some treats to take with us. At the store we pulled our car in right next to Elder ElRay L. Christiansen, then an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. He walked right over to our car. He chatted with each one of us. He seemed very interested and asked us our names. I was so excited, I couldn’t believe this was happening to me.”
As if she were reliving that experience and sensing again the impact of that memorable occasion, she bore testimony: “Just before Elder Christiansen got ready to leave, he paused, looked right at me, and said, ‘Pat, the only way to be happy is to be obedient.’”
There was silence for a moment, each pondering the magnitude of this simple counsel and the direct answer to fervent prayer. She recalled her feelings on that occasion, “First of all, just to see a General Authority was a highlight in my life. It was the first time I had ever had any personal contact with Church leaders like that.”
This young girl, anxious to find the right answers and inspired by the counsel of a General Authority, had no way of knowing then that later, as the wife of Jeffrey Holland, former Church Commissioner of Education and now President of Brigham Young University, she would find herself in close and frequent association with many of the General Authorities. “To have my prayers answered so directly was another turning point in my life,” she said. “I realized right then and there that truly the greatest thing that I could cling to, the only way to be confident and happy, is to be obedient and live by the Spirit.”
While yet a teenager she discovered “there is just no substitute for obedience.” While obedience had not been a struggle for Pat, still the impact of receiving such an immediate and direct answer to her earnest supplication, and to receive it from one of the Lord’s chosen servants, a General Authority in person, was just more than she had ever hoped for.

Chris shuffled his feet a little to hear the brush, brush sound they made in the blue paper booties covering his shoes. He was standing in line with his family, waiting to go into the San Diego California Temple for the open house.
Dad bent down and put a hand on Chris’s shoulder. "Temple open houses are very special," he said. "I remember when I went to the Provo Utah Temple open house. I had watched the workers building it from just an empty field up to a finished temple. When we were inside, I knew it was Heavenly Father’s house. I was a little bit older than you are, but you’ll remember this your whole life, just like I did."
Mom turned toward them. "That’s right. I remember when I went to the Seattle Washington Temple open house a long time ago. That’s why we drove all the way here. Getting to tour a temple before it’s dedicated is a very special opportunity."
Chris thought about their long drive through the desert to get to San Diego. There had been nothing interesting to look at out the windows, and his little sister cried most of the way. Even his older sister got a little bit tired of all the driving. But since they had come so far, he knew it was important.
Chris folded his arms and walked as quietly as he could in his blue paper shoes through the temple tour. He couldn’t remember ever being somewhere so beautiful. The carpet was white. The windows were tall. The pictures on the walls were beautiful. It felt more reverent than any place he had been before.
As they walked up the stairs, Chris held tightly to the handrail. He was smiling brightly.
Mom whispered to him, "How do you feel?"
Chris looked up at her and Dad. "I feel like I’m holding the iron rod."

When Elder Quentin L. Cook was 15 years old, he had a talk with his big brother, Joe. Joe was trying to decide if he should go to medical school instead of going on a mission. They talked long into the night. They talked about the gospel. They talked about testimonies. They talked about serving a mission.
Joe knew that going to medical school and becoming a doctor was a good way to help people. But he also knew that Jesus Christ truly lived, that Joseph Smith was really a prophet, and that the Book of Mormon was really true. So he knew that going on a mission first would be a better choice. Quentin learned that night that his brother Joe had a strong testimony.

At age 25, I found myself in a verbally abusive relationship. I’d become less active in the Church, but when I finally left my boyfriend, I decided to go back to attending church regularly. I wanted to be on the straight and narrow path again. Little did I know, though, that when I made that decision, I was already pregnant.
I decided to stay true to my choice to be active again in the Church, but I didn’t really want to be pregnant and go to church where I lived. I wanted to attend a ward in a different city, so I went there one Sunday. It was the day of the Primary sacrament meeting presentation. As the children talked about how Heavenly Father always loves us, I felt His love too. That message was a great blessing for me that day.
After the meeting, I asked the bishop if I could attend that ward given my situation. He advised me to go to the ward within my boundaries. I didn’t want to, but he assured me I’d be OK, and I was.
When I told my bishop about my pregnancy, he was so helpful. It was a blessing to meet with him regularly. As I talked with him about my options for the baby, he wanted me to know that he was there to represent the Lord in my repentance process but would not tell me what decision to make about raising or placing my baby. As we were studying Doctrine and Covenants 9:8–9, my bishop asked me to pray and tell Heavenly Father what I really wanted—he encouraged me to make a decision and seek confirmation from the Lord.
So I went home and prayed. I told Heavenly Father all the amazing reasons why I would be the best mom for this baby, and I asked to know if that decision was right. The next day, everything in life felt like it was falling apart. For instance, I lost my medical insurance, and my car broke down.
At church the following Sunday, I told my bishop how life seemed to fall apart after I prayed about my decision. Because of what had happened after my prayer, my bishop suggested that I consider a different decision and seek confirmation about it instead.
While working with my bishop, I had considered placing the baby for adoption and had narrowed down the potential adoptive families to two couples. The bishop suggested that I select one of the two couples and pray about that decision to ask if this little guy needed to go with them.
I went home and reluctantly prayed, asking Heavenly Father if the couple I had chosen were the ones my child needed. The next morning, a connection my sister made led to a miracle solution for my insurance. I felt this was a confirmation that adoption was the right path for me, and I remember thinking this child could have so much more with a different family.
I knew that Heavenly Father would help me with this decision. Part of me hoped this choice would be like the story of Abraham and Isaac (see Genesis 22)—that when it came time for me to place my son for adoption, God would tell me I didn’t need to do it anymore. But He didn’t. I needed to place my son with a wonderful family.
As I sat in the hospital with my new little bundle of joy, I turned on the TV. General conference happened to be on. I heard a talk by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles entitled “None Were with Him.” He taught that “because Jesus walked such a long, lonely path utterly alone, we do not have to do so.”1 I closed my eyes and told Heavenly Father that I felt so alone, and then I felt so much love from Him.
After the placement, I felt completely empty. But in the back of my mind, I still knew I wasn’t alone. I knew Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ were with me, as Elder Holland had taught. I prepared for the temple and received my endowment. I was obeying the commandments, and I was determined I would never let myself be deceived into wrong choices again.
But years later, I was deceived again and ended up in another abusive relationship. When I broke away, I found out I was pregnant again. I didn’t want to place the baby. I was older than before, and I felt like I could be a good mom. I met with my bishop and a social worker. I started following the same process that I had before in praying about adoption, but nothing ever seemed to click. It always felt difficult.
I still went to church. Sometimes ward members would say they were surprised to see me there pregnant, which hurt a little. But I still went every week. I wanted people to see that what I had done reflected a choice I had made but that it didn’t define who I was. I worked with my bishop to move forward.
As my due date grew closer, I started to panic. With my first baby, I’d had a plan, but this one was so different. I didn’t feel like I was receiving a strong answer regarding any option for my baby. I let the couple whom I had placed my first baby with know that I was pregnant but unsure of whether I would place, and that if I did place, I would want them to raise this baby as well.
After I had the baby, I still felt unsure. Then my doctor came in to check on us and said, “I don’t know if you’ll be able to have children again, so love this little one.” While that may not be the answer for everyone, I felt the Spirit confirm that this was the right choice for me. After panicking for nine months, I felt peace. I let the couple know that I had decided to parent my daughter.
I wanted to be the best mom I could be, and I knew that the only way to do that was staying close to family and the Lord’s Church. I knew that what I had learned in the gospel of Jesus Christ would help her like it had helped me.
With my pregnancies, was one decision easier than the other? No. Both options were hard—just different kinds of hard, as were the joys. With my daughter, she is an incredible delight to me. Yet being a single mother is hard. With the son I placed, I still think about him and hope he’s happy throughout his life, but I am not as involved in his day-to-day happenings. When I was pregnant with him, I couldn’t see what Heavenly Father had in mind for him. But now I can see it, and I know he’s where he needs to be.
We can’t know beforehand what placing or single parenting will be like. But we can always trust in the Lord.
As part of my repentance, I remember hearing my bishop say, “Your sins are forgiven.” I felt such great relief, and I realized that the Atonement of Jesus Christ is real. I would remember my sin, but from that moment on, my Savior, Jesus Christ, would remember it no more (see Doctrine and Covenants 58:42). I knew that He wanted me to move forward to become a better person, to become what He sees I can be. That’s what I strive to do every day—to become even closer to Him and to hold ever tighter to the iron rod (see 1 Nephi 15:23–24; see also 1 Nephi 11:25).
One of my favorite scriptures reads, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16). I am grateful for Heavenly Father’s plan of redemption.
I currently serve as my ward’s Young Women president. One principle I try to help the young women learn is that regardless of any choices they make, there is no place where they are out of Heavenly Father’s reach. As Elder Holland taught: “However many mistakes you feel you have made or talents you think you don’t have, or however far from home and family and God you feel you have traveled, I testify that you have not traveled beyond the reach of divine love. It is not possible for you to sink lower than the infinite light of Christ’s Atonement shines.”2
I hope that the young women in my ward—and everyone—remember that truth. It has blessed my life immeasurably, and the joys I now feel in living the gospel have become an even greater strength to me.

The buzzing alarm sounded all too loudly in my ear. I reached up, flicked it off, and closed my eyes. The groggy Buen Dia from the other side of the room woke me again, so I rolled out of bed and knelt beside it to pray.
I was discouraged. And tired. I was tired of cold nights and early mornings, tired of microbuses and rude drivers. I was tired of my mission in Bolivia and longed to go home to Ohio. I knew I needed a better attitude, so that is what I prayed for that morning.
After my prayers, I got up off of my knees and called to my companion, “Come on, Hermana. It’s Sunday. We’ve got meetings to go to, appointments to make, lives to change.”
A groan was the only answer I got at first. Then there was a hopeful, “It’s not still raining is it?”
“I don’t think so.”
“If it is, I’m not getting out of bed!”
I knew how she felt. At that moment, I would have given anything for the comforts of home: reliable electricity, hot water, washing machines, the family car. The list went on and on in my mind as I got ready for church.
From her bed, my companion knelt and looked out the window.
“Well, the sun may be shining, but guess what it’s shining on.”
“About a foot of mud, no?”
“You got it.”
I glanced at my galoshes—full of mud from the previous day. Another day of sliding in thick mud and wading through puddles.
I picked up my scriptures and tried to read, but my mind kept wandering. I turned to Third Nephi and read about Christ’s visit to the Americas until it was time to go.
As we slipped and slid in the mud on the way to the church, I mentally counted the days until I could walk on a paved road. Nearing the chapel, my companion and I pasted on smiles and entered, greeting members and laughing with the children.
A less-active family entered the building, and suddenly my smile seemed a little more real. We had been working with them for a long time, and this was the first time they had been to church in two years. As I rose to greet them, another family entered, carrying with them their brand-new baby. The father came to church regularly, but the mother didn’t, and until just two days before, had been unwilling to allow the father to bless the baby.
Before the beginning of the meeting, three more less-active families we’d been working with arrived. My bad mood was rapidly disappearing. As we sang the opening hymn, my heart filled with an overwhelming sense of love for these people. Before my mission had started, I thought I would be the one doing all the giving. But sitting there in that sacrament meeting, I realized how wrong I had been. The people had given so much more to me.
As the sacrament was passed, I realized that, although I loved these people very much, Christ loved them more than I could comprehend. Christ loved those who loved him and those who hated him. That was what my mission was all about.
My tears flowed freely now, and I was filled with humility and shame for my negative thoughts that morning. I looked around the little chapel and suddenly I wasn’t tired of Bolivia anymore. I could put up with the inconvenience and the mud a little longer. In fact, how could I ever leave? I wanted to share the feeling I was having at that moment with everyone—a knowledge of a God in heaven who loved every one of them.
With a real smile on my face, I put my arm around my startled companion and focused my attention on the speaker at the pulpit.

I was skeptical when the missionaries taught me about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. My first thought was that Joseph Smith, like many other so-called “prophets,” may have brought a false book into the world seeking to become wealthy, famous, or heroic.
I had no intention of reading the Book of Mormon. But over time the missionaries’ friendship and their enthusiasm for the gospel allowed my curiosity toward their message to grow.
As I read the verses the missionaries gave me in the Book of Mormon, I found Moroni’s invitation to ask God with a sincere heart, real intent, and faith in Christ if the Book of Mormon is true (see Moroni 10:4–5). I thought, “Who, knowing the book was fake, would dare challenge us to ask God with real intent and sincerity if the Book of Mormon is true?”
Then one day the missionaries explained that Joseph Smith and his brother, Hyrum, were martyred for their testimony. Suddenly, a thought came to me that they would never have given up their own lives for something they knew was false. At that moment, a warm feeling, like a burning fire, spread through me. It was a witness of the Holy Spirit confirming to my heart that Joseph Smith was a true prophet. With this witness, I was baptized and confirmed.

Here is an example of the kind of Christlike ministering that happens among members of the Lord’s Church. A student at Brigham Young University recently wrote:
“I was going through a really rough time. One day I was really struggling and on the verge of tears. I pleaded and prayed silently for strength to continue. In that exact moment, my roommate sent me a text expressing her love for me. She shared a scripture and bore a testimony. It brought me so much strength and comfort and hope in that moment of despair.”

Making a quilt does not seem like a conventional way to prepare for a temple; but that’s exactly what Sarah Cutler was asked to do to help unify the young women of the Albuquerque New Mexico East Stake, when the Albuquerque New Mexico Temple was being built. Sarah designed the quilt top, incorporating a part of the Young Women theme, and had all the young women of the stake sign its large border. The quilt was completed by March 5, when the temple was dedicated.
“I’ve thought about how much making this quilt is like preparing to make and keep sacred covenants in the temple,” Sarah says. “The first thing we need is a desire to go to the temple. … On the quilt of our preparation for the temple, we just have to keep going stitch by stitch by tiny stitch.”

From a young age, Elder Richard G. Scott had a desire to do what was right, even when faced with peer pressure. One summer during high school, he worked on an oyster boat off Long Island, New York, USA. His coworkers tried to get him to do things he knew were wrong. Because he consistently said no, he gained their respect. One night when one of them fell overboard, Richard was the only one who could save his crewmate—because he hadn’t gone partying like the others. He said, “Finally, when they understood I would not abandon my principles, we became friends. Then privately, one by one, they asked for help.”1
Richard was outgoing. He was elected high school class president, played the clarinet, and was drum major for the marching band. He did well in school and had many friends, but he felt lonely and lacked confidence. He realized later, after becoming active in the Church, “that those feelings need not have been part of my life if I had really understood the gospel.”2
By age 22, Richard was thinking about marriage and a career. But the woman he was dating, Jeanene Watkins, encouraged him to serve a mission. After praying about it, that’s exactly what he did. “That decision thoroughly changed my life and laid the foundation … for a marvelous experience in life together.”3
As a missionary in Uruguay.
Two weeks after he returned from his mission to Uruguay, they were sealed in the Manti Utah Temple.
His wedding day with Jeanene Watkins. July 16, 1953.

One of the most important parts of a successful home teaching visit is preparing and sharing a lesson. Every other month Brandon Stewart gives the lesson. Brandon has learned how to prepare a lesson by watching his senior companion, his father. Thanks to his dad’s good example, giving the lesson is Brandon’s favorite part of home teaching.
To prepare his lesson, Brandon starts by reading the First Presidency Message in the Ensign. He picks the parts he thinks may help the family he will be teaching. He then adds his personal experiences and feelings about the topic and concludes his lesson just as his father does, by bearing his testimony.

The first story took place during late spring in the Cascade Mountains. Rodney and Micki, my two sons, and I had decided to do some early mountain climbing. We had been climbing through spotty snow fields and clumps of evergreen trees when we heard the unmistakable roar of large boulders bounding down the mountainside. From the noise they were making as they struck trees and undergrowth and ricocheted off larger rocks, we could tell they were headed our way. Barely in time, we jumped behind a large, old snag as the first of several boulders roared by, barely missing our old protective tree. After the roar stopped as a result of the rocks piling into a snowfield, I poked my head out from behind the tree and looked in the direction from which the boulders had come. I soon detected the cause of our problem; looking like several small busy ants, a group of boys were rolling rocks down the mountainside. At first I yelled and waved my coat, and then we all yelled and waved our coats, but to no avail. Was our weekend hiking trip about to come to an early end, or would it be worth the risk to continue climbing while the youths above rolled rocks down the mountain?
How did these three misadventures turn out? In the first story, we yelled many times together without any luck. Then Micki said, “Daddy, I bet if I blew my whistle, they would hear it!” So he did and they did! We were then able to communicate, after which no more rocks were rolled down the mountain, and we were able to continue our climb.

Counseling with my bishop. I came to appreciate my bishop’s guidance in helping me make a number of sound decisions. He checked on our family often and made sure I was all right and my family was well cared for. He was my support both temporally and spiritually.
One day the bishop called me into his office and discussed with me each of my children, one by one, to see how they were doing. We came up with a plan to make sure each of my boys received priesthood support through their quorum and auxiliary leaders. He also discussed my financial situation and made sure we had food in the house, and when Christmas came he checked again to be sure we had something to go under our tree.
Besides helping my children, he gave me priesthood blessings and helped me explore my new role as a single sister. What a comfort it was to know I had his backing.

I share with you a pattern that my wife used as we were called to serve in Brazil. She had no experience with Portuguese, other than the use of a few words or phrases. She thought she had accomplished something when she could go to McDonalds and order numero 1/number 1 by holding up one finger. She developed a few patterns of investment. She would read the Book of Mormon in Portuguese. From daily contact and conversation, she would write down new words or vocabulary. When she was going to give a talk in a meeting, rather than use an interpreter, she would write the talk in English, have someone translate the words into Portuguese, and then she would put the phonetics or the sounds above the words. She would then read the talk through her sounds and phonetics. She now understands the language very well and does a good job of speaking. The pattern and work blessed her.

Ana’s boots slurped on the slushy sidewalk as she hurried to school, hugging a large papier bag against her coat. Her brown eyes were calm, but inside she was excited. Today her class was filling the Christmas box.
Ahead, waiting for her under the usual tree, were Lem and Kyle. Pulling her coat around the bag, she lowered her eyes and kept walking. Whump! The expected snowball hit her arm. Splat! Another exploded on her shoulder.
“Tell the teacher,” Lem taunted.
Kyle threw another snowball, brushing her long dark hair and just missing her ear.
They knew she wouldn’t tell. She hardly ever talked at school—she could never seem to find the right thing to say. This new school was so much bigger than her last school, and she missed her old friends. It was still hard just to answer the teacher’s questions in the classroom. A few snowballs wouldn’t make her talk now.
Entering the school yard, Ana opened the sack and took a last peek at her gift for the box. It was beautiful! She smiled, knowing how wonderful it would make someone feel. When her family had moved the first time, someone had left a Christmas box on their doorstep. In it were oranges, a ham, hot chocolate mix, chewy caramels, and soft, white mountains of divinity, which melted into nothing on the tongue. Six homemade Christmas socks, one for each family member, were filled with surprises. And now she could share the same thrill with someone else.
Standing at the classroom door, Ana watched Mrs. Manning set a large, brightly wrapped box on a desk at the front of the room. Entering eagerly, Ana hung up her coat and pulled off her boots. She was sitting on a footstool, tying her tennis shoes, when Mrs. Manning said, “Everyone who has gifts for the box can bring them up now.”
Ana turned to watch as the others carried up their gifts. Elizabeth had a can of tuna; Marc, two cans of chicken noodle soup. Lorene brought a puzzle she had received on her birthday. “Only one piece is missing,” she said. Jean had some candy canes; Eric, a box of stuffing; and Neil, an obviously used stuffed animal. Most of the kids hadn’t brought anything. Ana’s eyes lost their sparkle.
Then Lem and Kyle went to the front of the class. Lem was flexing his arm muscles. “Look what we got for the basket!” Kyle shouted, commanding everyone’s attention. Opening his backpack, he unloaded a number of cans onto the desk. He barked like a circus announcer: “Spinach, lima beans, brussel sprouts, rutabagas, and parsnips. We cleaned out the cupboards of all the vegetables we can’t stand!
Ana tried to imagine a family finding this box on their porch. She could picture the children pulling out can after can of vegetables and later putting the puzzle together to find a piece missing. It was wrong!
She jerked her shoelace and tied it too tight. She had spent a whole Saturday and four afternoons carefully layering paper mâché, paint, and finally crepe paper. They’ve never had a Christmas box, she decided.
“Ana, do you have something for the box in your bag?” Mrs. Manning asked.
Ana nodded and carried it up to the desk. Twenty-seven curious faces turned to see what she had brought. They were quiet as she gently tugged a star-shaped piñata from the bag. Then everyone was wowing and oohing and talking to each other.
“It’s beautiful, Ana!” Mrs. Manning exclaimed. Ana had thought that she would feel proud and happy when the class saw her piñata. She didn’t. Instead, warm tears slid down her cheeks. She hadn’t cried when they moved here, even though it was her third new school in two years. She hadn’t cried when the boys teased her or even when she decided not to try to be friendly with her classmates anymore. But now the tears came.
Words came, too. She tried to push them back, but they were too strong. “I made it,” she said clearly.
The class was instantly silent.
“After our family moved the first time, we were very sad when Christmas came. Then a box—a Christmas box—was left at our house. The note said, ‘Merry Christmas and a Happy New Home, from your secret friend.’ We were so happy—we wanted to shout ‘Thank you’ to the night.”
Mrs. Manning hugged Ana close, and everyone started clapping.
Ana brushed the tear tracks away and placed her piñata in the box with the vegetables.
Lorene raised her hand. “Mrs. Manning, could I take the puzzle home and bring something else tomorrow?”
“Me, too,” Marc said. “I think I can do better.” A half dozen voices joined in, and heads nodded agreement.
“OK, class,” Mrs. Manning said. “We’ll keep the box here for another day. Anyway, I wanted to bake some cookies for it and didn’t get them done.”
Ana wore her boots home and carried her tennis shoes in the brown sack, even though the sun had dried the sidewalk and reduced snowmen to crusty mounds. Lem and Kyle were waiting as she, Jean, and Lorene passed the tree. The boys scraped some snow from under bushes to throw at them, but the girls were laughing and talking so fast they hardly even noticed. Ana was explaining how to make a piñata.