Gospel Story Finder

Not long ago several of us in the Nash family hiked to the top of Huayna Picchu, a tall peak adjoining the ancient Incan ruins of Machu Picchu in the mountains of Peru. It is a very steep climb with breathtaking views and precipitous drop-offs. Sadly, some hikers have lost their lives by falling off that narrow, steep trail. To avoid such tragedies, strong cables have since been secured to the solid rock along the mountainside of Huayna Picchu. We held to those cables as we climbed, and they enabled us to safely reach the summit, where the view was majestic!

I had a problem with overeating. My repeated bouts of gorging resulted in a harrowing mass of guilt, frustration, and disappointment. I felt so weak when I tried to overcome my problem.
For a long time I neglected the fact that the Savior’s Atonement not only saves us but also redeems us and perfects us, and that this even applies to my obviously imperfect habit of overeating.
I decided to give myself to my Savior. I prayed. I sincerely admitted my weakness and my need for grace, and then I asked Heavenly Father to bless me with His divine assistance in the upcoming day. That night I felt the assurance of a loving Father that He had the immeasurable desire to help His son and the unquestionable power to fulfill His will.
Since that night, food no longer has the same overwhelming influence over me. I know Jesus Christ is the reason for my success. Just like Paul, I am learning that “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me” (Philippians 4:13). And I’m trying to never forget another lesson from Paul: “Thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 15:57).

Second, President Gordon B. Hinckley shared an experience following a Mesa Arizona Temple renovation several decades ago. President Hinckley hosted hundreds of clergy of other religions and offered to answer questions following a tour of the temple.

One Protestant minister noted the absence of the cross throughout the temple and on our buildings elsewhere. He asked, “Why is this when you say you believe in Jesus Christ?” [10]

President Hinckley respectfully responded: “I do not wish to give offense to any of my Christian colleagues who use the cross on the steeples of their cathedrals and at the altars of their chapels, who wear it on their vestments, and imprint it on their books and other literature. But for us, the cross is the symbol of the dying Christ, while our message is a declaration of the Living Christ.”

The minister then asked, “If you do not use the cross, what is the symbol of your religion?”

President Hinckley replied, “The lives of our people must become the most meaningful expression of our faith and, in fact, therefore, the symbol of our worship.” [11]

When my sister, Nancy, and I were teenagers, we regularly attended our local church. But we began to feel that something was missing, so we decided to investigate other churches.
That summer my sister and brother visited a booth at the Canadian National Exhibition where missionaries were showing a movie called Ancient America Speaks. After watching the movie, they signed up for a free copy of the Book of Mormon. I can still remember the excitement in my sister’s voice as she announced to my mother and me that Christ had visited the American continent.
The missionaries dropped off a Book of Mormon to my sister and asked her if she would like to learn more about the Church. That was how we both were taught the gospel.
More than a year after Nancy and I were baptized, she began dating a young man named Luke. He had a bubbly personality and seemed to radiate love and excitement. At the time Nancy met him, he was looking for direction in his life and was eager to take the missionary discussions when Nancy told him about the gospel. His sister, Leonarda, also was interested in being taught.
Although Luke and Leonarda agreed with most of what was presented, they had trouble accepting that Joseph Smith was a prophet. Once they gained a testimony of Joseph Smith then everything else (the Book of Mormon, the restoration of the gospel, and the gospel principles taught by the prophets) would fall into place.
They came to our home to be taught by the elders. Once again the discussion centered on Joseph Smith. One of the elders suggested that we should each take a turn asking Heavenly Father if Joseph Smith was a prophet and then listen silently for a minute for the answer.
I won’t forget the feeling of peace that came into that room and touched each of our hearts as the Spirit bore witness to each of us that Joseph Smith was a prophet of the Lord. For some of us a testimony was gained that night; for others the truth was reaffirmed. Luke accepted baptism and Leonarda was baptized a few years later with her parents’ approval.
Since that night the Spirit has borne witness to me many times of the truthfulness of other gospel principles. But this experience stands out in my mind because it was one of my first experiences with personal revelation from a Heavenly Father who loves me. I learned that night the truth of the counsel found in Matthew 7:7, “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.” [Matt. 7:7]

“All right, everyone. Let’s have talk time,” Mom called.
Josie had been looking forward to talk time all day. Every evening, Josie and her two little brothers, Ben and Wes, gathered in the living room with Mom and Dad to talk about what was going on in their lives.
Tonight Dad had said he would help Josie practice her script for the morning announcements. Reading the morning announcements was a special privilege at Josie’s school. Tomorrow Josie would play a small part of her favorite song over the school’s speakers and use the microphone to announce the day’s activities and lunch menu.
Josie ran to the living room, excited to rehearse her script.
“There’s our famous announcer!” Dad said when Josie hopped on the couch next to him. “How are you feeling about tomorrow?”
“I’m excited but a little nervous. I’m afraid I’ll mess something up in front of the whole school,” Josie said.
“That’s why we practice,” Dad said. “Go ahead and read through your script, and I will listen for places you can improve.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Josie said.
She and Dad reviewed the script so many times that Josie lost count. Then Josie stood and performed her script one last time for her family. Mom and Dad cheered. Ben gave her a high five, and Wes smiled and clapped his hands.
Josie went to bed happy and confident.
The next day everything went smoothly. Even though she was nervous, Josie smiled when she heard her music play on the school’s speakers. She was glad she had practiced the script with Dad, and she read it slowly and clearly without any mistakes.
“You did an excellent job,” Mrs. Blake, the assistant principal, said.
At the end of the school day, Josie stood in line for the bus. An older boy turned around and asked, “Are you the girl who read the announcements today?”
Josie smiled. “Yes,” she said.
“Why did you pick that song?” the boy asked. “It was a dumb song. You really ruined morning announcements.” Then he called her a mean name and laughed with his friends.
Josie sat alone in the front seat of the bus. She felt sick to her stomach.
When Josie got home, she found Mom playing with Wes.
“Mom, I know it’s not talk time yet, but I was wondering if we could still talk right now,” Josie said.
“Of course, Josie,” Mom said. “What happened? Did something go wrong with the morning announcements?”
“No,” Josie said. “Everything was perfect. At least I thought so, until a boy told me I picked a dumb song. He called me a really mean name too.”
Mom patted the floor next to her. Josie walked over and sat down. Mom gave her a big hug. Josie and Mom talked about everything that happened that day, including Mrs. Blake’s compliment.
“I’m sorry that boy and his friends were rude to you,” Mom said. “But it sounds like other people you respect, like Mrs. Blake, were very pleased with the way you read the announcements. Dad and I are so proud of you. You worked very hard, and it paid off!”
Josie hugged Mom again. “Thanks, Mom,” Josie said. “I feel a lot better.” Josie was glad that any time could be talk time.

One Sunday, my two youngest children, Johanne and Joshua, made sure that I was available to help them distribute Pass-Along Cards from the Ensign to the neighbors. Passing out these cards has become a missionary project for them since that day.
While visiting a neighbor another day, I noticed The Lamb of God video on his table. I asked him about it, and he told me that my children had given him a pass-along card. He is reading the Book of Mormon now.

I thought then my mother cared more for that house than for anything else, including me. I was wrong, and it didn’t take me long to find out what was really important to her. That winter we lost the house.
Early in March my father called from work and told my mother he wanted to hold a family council that night.
My mother had built a fire in the fireplace and made us hot chocolate. When my father got home, he walked quietly into the living room and looked at us for awhile. Something was wrong. He sank down into his chair and covered his face with his hands. They were shaking. The room was dead silent except for the cracking sounds of burning wood. The room glowed with the flickering orange light.
“Papa, what’s wrong?” my mother asked.
He looked up slowly. His eyes were red. It was a shock to us to see him that way. He’d always been unmovably strong before. I’d thought there was nothing he was afraid of or couldn’t handle. The light from the fire that only a second before had seemed so warm was now dark and ominous.
“I’ve failed you,” he said.
He ran his finger through his hair slowly leaving his hand on his forehead.
“The business—I’ve lost everything.” He took a deep breath and looked directly at my mother. He looked old and defeated.
“Mama, we’re going to lose the house.”
“No,” she said. “It isn’t true.”
He looked at her for a long time and then nodded his head.
“It’s true.” He stood and walked from the room.
The next day my mother sent me and my brothers down to see if we could help my father at work. We found out his business owed a large amount of money that would take him years to pay off. My father told us it would be hard just to make ends meet, and he didn’t know if we would make it, even with the money we’d get from the house. He seemed very depressed.
When we walked into the house that night, it was filled with incredibly delicious smells. We went into the dining room. The table was spread with a banquet. There was a roast goose, my father’s favorite, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, fresh baked bread, rolls, all of it steaming hot.
My father stood in the doorway. His face went red.
“Mama,” he shouted. “What is this? Have you gone crazy? Do you think Thanksgiving comes in March now?”
She smiled calmly.
“It’s a celebration.”
“What’s to celebrate? The world is going crazy, and we’ve lost everything.”
Mama smiled again.
“Papa, we’ve lost nothing.”
My father shook his head.
“Mama, we’re going to lose the house. I found a buyer. He wants to move in next week! I don’t know where we’re going to go or how we’re going to live.”
Mama wasn’t smiling now. She had the determined look she gets on her face when she wants someone to know she means business.
“We’ve lost nothing,” she said. She was glaring at my father. “Nothing that matters. This celebration is to remind us what is most important to us. The food’s getting cold, so shut up and eat.”
For the first time in weeks my father relaxed. The pain he felt faded. He looked around the table at us and then back to my mother. He smiled.
“I married a hard, crazy woman,” he said. “And since Thanksgiving comes in March this year, I think we should give thanks for it.”
He sat at the head of the table and took my mother’s hands.
“Even if the food does get a little cold,” he said and then started a Thanksgiving prayer more eloquent and longer than any we’d ever heard on Thanksgiving Day.
A week later when my mother first saw the run-down house we rented she said, “I think it needs a little paint.” That summer the royal order of the paintbrush went to work again.

During the first few months after my first child was born, I was exhausted from helping my wife care for our baby at night. I began to skip scripture study on some days. I felt my life was out of order and knew I needed to make a change. I decided to wake up an hour earlier each morning to study the Book of Mormon along with the institute manual. I found greater spiritual strength to bear my burdens. I felt more joy and peace through the companionship of the Holy Ghost.

“Time to go, Jacob!” Mom called.
Four-year-old Jacob hopped off his bed and ran downstairs. “What are we going to buy? Can we get treats? Can I help you?”
It was Jacob’s turn to go shopping with Mom, and he was full of questions.
“We are going to buy groceries, and if you are a really big helper, we just might have time to make cookies for family home evening when we get home.”
Jacob smiled as Mom helped him into his seat in the car and buckled the seat belt. This was going to be great!
Mom pushed the grocery cart up and down the aisles while Jacob held the shopping list. He helped organize the groceries and got to choose if they got red apples or yellow apples, and red potatoes or white potatoes.
When they were finished getting the items on the list, Jacob helped push the heavy cart up to the checkout line. He watched as Mom put the groceries on the conveyor belt.
Suddenly, Jacob noticed that the shelves he was standing by were full of candy and gum. Mom didn’t buy those things very often. Jacob saw a package of Blueberry Blast bubble gum and knew it tasted really good. He put the package in his pocket.
As they were driving home, Mom said, “You’re very quiet, Jacob. Are you tired?”
“No.”
“OK. Will you help me unload the groceries when we get home?”
“Sure.”
When they got home, they carried the bags of groceries inside and put them on the kitchen counter. Mom looked at Jacob carefully. “Where did you get that big piece of gum?” she asked.
Jacob shrugged his shoulders and looked at the floor. Mom knelt down and asked him again.
“Where did you get that gum, Jacob?”
Jacob took the package of gum out of his pocket.
“Did you take that gum from the store?”
Jacob felt like crying. He nodded his head slowly. Mom looked sad.
“Jacob, when we do something that is wrong—like taking gum from the store without paying for it—it’s like digging a deep hole and standing in the bottom of it. We need to do important things to get out of the hole.”
“What do we do first?” Jacob asked.
“We need to know that we have done something wrong and feel sorry about it. I think you already know that taking the gum is wrong. Are you sorry?”
“Yes. I know it was wrong. I feel sad now,” Jacob said.
“Then we need to fix the problem the best we can. Since you already opened the package of gum and ate some of it, we can’t give it back to the store. What do you think we should do?”
“I have some money. I could go back to the store and pay for the gum.”
“That’s a great idea. I’ll take you.”
Jacob ran upstairs and got his money jar. Mom helped him count out enough to pay for the gum.
When they got to the store, Mom held Jacob’s hand and took him to the manager’s desk. She told the manager that Jacob had something to tell her.
Jacob felt nervous. He pulled the package of gum out of his pocket and put it on the counter.
“Did you take that gum without paying for it?” the manager asked.
Jacob nodded.
“Would you like to pay for it now?”
“Yes.”
Jacob put his money on the counter. The manager printed a receipt. She put the gum in a bag, gave the receipt to Jacob, and smiled at him. “Thank you for being honest and coming back to pay for the gum,” she said.
Jacob felt much better as he and Mom walked back to the car.
“You are doing a good job climbing out of the hole, Jacob,” Mom said. “But there’s something else you need to do.”
“What?”
“You need to tell Heavenly Father that you are sorry, and promise Him that you will try to keep the commandments from now on.”
When Mom and Jacob got home, they went into a quiet room and knelt down together. Mom helped Jacob say a prayer. He told Heavenly Father that he was sorry and wouldn’t take anything from the store without paying for it ever again.
When the prayer was finished, Jacob was surprised that he didn’t feel bad anymore. Not bad at all! In fact, he felt clean and happy again—just like he had climbed out of a hole, and had a bath too!

For example, I have a hard time asking the golden questions. I’ll ask them, but my way. I travel a lot, so my neighbor is everybody out there. I carry with me in my pocket as I travel this little tube of ozium. Ozium is an air freshener. I love it. You know, if you travel from here to Arizona to give a talk before some delightful young people, you get off the plane smelling as if you’d dealt the last hand of a poker game. The kids don’t always understand. So when I get off the plane, I just spray myself and then I’m sweet and wholesome and ready to do Church work.

Well, I have learned that clearing the air on a plane is a great way to start a conversation. Stewardesses are intrigued by it. People who sit next to me want to know what I’m doing. I just say, “I’m just clearing the smoke out.” That gets me talking about the Word of Wisdom. You know, I have become so proficient with this particular tube of ozium that I can put a cigarette out at ten feet.

I can’t resist telling you about one little experience. I was traveling back from somewhere to Salt Lake City, and it was a particularly heavily smoke-filled flight. My lungs had taken about all they could handle. I’m a fighter at heart, and I hope I do this in a Christian, Latter-day Saint way, so I took out my ozium and sprayed the culprit sitting in front of me. His air jet was fixed so that every time he would exhale I got it. I thought, “Well, it’s really self-defense rather than a missionary effort at this point.” I shot a spray over his head, and after about the third spray the mist settled on him. He got a little concerned, and I don’t blame him. He got up, turned around, and said, “What in the world are you doing?”

“I’m trying to nullify what you’re doing to me.”

“What am I doing?”

I said, “I’m sure it’s not intentional, but I seem to be getting the ill effects of your habit, and it’s not comfortable.” Then I got bold. I said, “I’m surprised that a man with your intelligence would smoke in the first place.”

He got a little defensive. “Well, the medical reports aren’t that conclusive.”

I said, “I have a medical report in my briefcase that’s very conclusive. Would you like to read it?” He said he would, and I said, “Can I sit with you?” So we got up and changed seats with a couple of people. I sat down and took out the Doctrine and Covenants, and I turned to—guess what section? I read him parts of the 89th section. He couldn’t have handled all of it. But I did read him what the Lord said about tobacco—that it was not good for man but for sick cattle. Then I read him the promise at the end. I turned to him, closed the book, and said, “Now, sir, I have just read you the truth, and you know it, don’t you?”

His head went back, and he said, “I believe I do.”

I said, “Would you be offended if I found out where you lived?”

“No.” He lived in Minnesota.

I took his name and address and said, “You’d like to know a little more about this, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

So I sent a referral to a mission president in Minnesota. Have you ever heard of that in the Church? And I was pleased to learn some three or four weeks later that he’d been baptized.

Not long afterward, John told me he was coming to the San Francisco Bay Area with a singing group from Brigham Young University.
“I’d love to see you,” he said, suggesting we meet at the California Oakland Temple.
Driving around the Bay Area at night, I would often see the temple. It appealed to me spiritually, so I read about it and wanted to go inside. John and I met early one morning on the temple grounds. After our visit, he said it was time for his group to enter the temple.
“Randy, you won’t be able to enter the temple,” John told me.
“I know, I’m a hippie,” I replied, “but I’ve studied Eastern religions, I’m a vegetarian, I live in a commune where we share everything, and I have $20. How much could admission be?”
“Far more than that,” John answered. “You’re not good enough.”
At the time, I considered myself intellectually, philosophically, and spiritually advanced. How could I not be good enough?
For several years, my parents didn’t know where I was. They were good people who tried to give me the best education possible and were understandably disappointed by my choices. When my father became ill, my mother persuaded me to return home to Washington, D.C. When I arrived, John found me a job on a crew building the Washington D.C. Temple.
I didn’t know it, but he had arranged for me to work with a crew of returned missionaries. I was stunned that John Howell, the lead foreman, would ask a crew member to pray at the start of each day’s work—something I had never seen with crews I had worked with previously.
One day at work, several of us were mounting one of the temple’s heavy front doors when it fell and smashed my finger as thin as a dime. John hurried over, looked at my finger, called for some consecrated oil, and gave me a blessing. My finger healed so quickly that I didn’t need to see a doctor.
On another occasion, I was given a razor blade and told to scrape bits of debris off the concrete floors.
“Why?” I asked one of our crew members. “Aren’t they putting carpet down?”
“Randy, you don’t know whose house this is, do you?” he responded. “We’re perfecting it for the Perfect One.”
The world was drowning in cynicism, bitterness, hatred, and fear, but the example and teachings of the young men I worked with filled me with hope. As crew members shared their beliefs with me, I knew they were being honest and authentic. They had given two years of their lives to serve others, and they were intelligently optimistic. I wanted their teachings to be true. I felt I was gaining the enlightenment I had been seeking and that the Lord was preparing me spiritually.
John Howell suggested I meet with the full-time missionaries. Instead, I opted to have my brother and one of his friends, another returned missionary, teach me. As they taught me, I wanted external, incontrovertible evidence that what I was learning was true. Without that proof, I didn’t want any further discussions.
When I asked how they knew the truth, they replied, “We have read and prayed and felt a witness from the Holy Ghost.” They told me I needed that same witness.
That night I went into a grove of trees near my neighborhood. I don’t know how long I prayed, but I did so with absolute intent. I repeatedly asked God the same four questions: “Is the Book of Mormon the word of God? Did You and Your Son appear to Joseph Smith? Is this the true Church of Jesus Christ? Am I good enough to be a member?”
The answer to each question came in a whisper to my soul—“Yes”—four times. Those whispers were accompanied by serene and sublime feelings.
With my head bowed, kneeling in prayer and drenched with tears, I exclaimed: “If this is the answer You will give to me, then I accept it and will commit my life fully to You and this gospel as You reveal it to me.” Words cannot express the thoughts, feelings, and truths that enveloped me.
The witness I received that night was incontrovertible, and it’s as strong now as it was then. Since that prayer, God has proved those answers to me in thousands of miraculous and practical ways.
“The Church is a miracle,” says Randy, pictured here a month after his baptism. “And my life in the Church has been miraculous.”
Soon after I was baptized in 1974, I attended my first general conference in Salt Lake City with my brother, John. I was surprised when Elder Boyd K. Packer (1924–2015) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, who had met my aunt in New York City three weeks before that conference, referred to John and me during his Sunday morning talk.
Quoting my aunt, Elder Packer said: “Two of my nephews have joined your Church. I can hardly believe the change that it’s made in their lives.”
Because of that profound change (see Alma 5:14), a fire burned inside me that I wanted to share. Soon, I found myself in Idaho as a full-time missionary. Halfway through my mission, my father, who was my greatest hero and best friend, passed away. My mother called my mission president and asked that I come home to give a eulogy. When my mission president left the decision up to me whether to leave, I told him I wanted to pray and fast for 24 hours before deciding.
That night I had a dream. My father appeared to me. In the midst of sublime and meaningful discussions with him, he told me, “Son, stay on your mission.”
I followed Dad’s counsel and stayed.
Because of the profound change that followed his conversion, “a fire burned inside” Randy that he wanted to share as a full-time missionary.
Six months after my mission, I held my mother’s hand as she took her last breath. Decades later, my wife, Lisa, found a letter from my parents in an old box. Dad had written it to me during my mission but died before sending it.
“Our hearts were and are and always will be full of love for you. I realize that things have not always been perfect, but that is life. … Christ did not say, ‘Follow me and it will be easy.’ He said, ‘Take up [your] cross, and follow me’ [Matthew 16:24]. He carried the cross, but we all have our splinters. Perhaps our place in heaven will depend upon how we handle ours. Son, we love you very much.”
Growing up, I was rough on my parents, but I never doubted their love. Since finding the Church, I have worked hard to thank them and honor them.
On February 17, 2018, two weeks before the Washington D.C. Temple closed for renovation, I was sealed to my father and mother, 42 years after they had passed through the veil into eternity. My oldest son, Randall, acted as proxy for my father, and Lisa acted as proxy for my mother. I felt that my parents, who had been sealed to each other earlier, were both there in spirit.
In the temple we find cords that bind us forever to our loved ones. I am certain of that.
When I was young, I didn’t want to get married or have children. But today my wife, children, and grandchildren are my greatest treasures. The Church is a miracle, and my life in the Church has been miraculous. With Joseph Smith, I say, “If I had not experienced what I have, I would not have believed it myself.”
Fifty years ago, I was a construction worker on the Washington D.C. Temple. I was convinced that my life had no happy future. Today I am an ordinance worker in that same temple, having accepted the Lord’s invitation to follow Him, receive His healing, embrace His ordinances, and strive to become like Him.
Randy and his wife, Lisa, serve in the Washington D.C. Temple, which he helped build 50 years ago.
Photograph by Leslie Nilsson
The restored Church is not a theory, a philosophy, or merely a community or culture. It is the true Church of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
I thought I would find what I was looking for in San Francisco. I didn’t. I found it in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and in the house of the Lord, “the crowning jewel of the Restoration.”

Our family knew a young lady who passed away from skin cancer. But even while on her death bed, unable to care for herself, she chose to exercise positive power by expressing love and gratitude to all those that attended her and visited with her. She was a perfect example of grace and Christlike love. She didn’t complain or bemoan her lot in life. She trusted our Heavenly Father and accepted His will. Though in great pain, she was truly an angel, and her positive power has had a lasting impact on the many lives she touched before she passed away. Many people in her situation would be bitter. She was young, vibrant, and newly married to a loving husband, with all the promise of a wonderful life ahead of her. She had every reason to complain, but she was one who had learned the power of choosing to be positive and speaking words that would inspire and uplift. This young woman chose the light of God’s positive power.

Several years ago, after returning from touring a mission, I said to one of my friends, “Did you make any converts when you were on your mission in a certain town?” And I told him the name of the town.

He replied, “No, I didn’t make a single convert there. My companion and I had very poor missionary success in that town.”

I informed him that recently I had held a meeting in that town. Following the meeting, a woman approached the mission president and me and said, “When I was a girl two Mormon missionaries came to our home a number of times and talked with my mother. Each time the missionaries came to our home, I ran into the kitchen and peeked through the door and listened while they conversed with mother, who wasn’t very interested. As soon as they had left, I would run into the living room, pick up the literature that they had left on the table, and go to my room and study it. I was very thrilled with what I was learning.

“Finally I obtained a copy of the Book of Mormon and read it. I became thoroughly converted to the Church of Jesus Christ, having a firm conviction that it was the true church. When I grew to maturity, two more Mormon missionaries came to town and I asked them to baptize me. After I had become a Church member, I taught the gospel to my friends and relatives. There are over fifty members in this branch who belong to the Church as a result of my conversion and baptism.”

I then said to my friend, “You see, you and your missionary companion indirectly have over fifty converts in that town in which you thought you got none.”

Let me share with you a time of waiting upon the Lord in our family. We asked our teenage children to be home by 9:30 on a Saturday night. There would be an envelope waiting. One of the children read aloud, over the signature of the First Presidency, a mission call for our family. Suddenly everything changed—the future of the football team, the dance company, violin and piano lessons, lawn jobs, friends, and dreams. There were tears.

We went from room to room that night wiping wet cheeks and rubbing backs. In our seventeen-year-old son’s room we found him ramrod straight on the edge of his bed looking across to his bulletin board, where there were pictures of his football team, his brother on a mission, his family, the prophet, and Jesus Christ.

By morning all eyes were dry, and sitting on the second row in sacrament meeting, we sang, “I’ll go where [and when and how and why] you want me to go, dear Lord.” 27 We waited to find out where that would be. We waited as we put our lives in order, shifted vision, adjusted expectations, and squared our shoulders. We watched through each new step, through the living of it, and through what was hard and what was wonderful, until years later each child, in his or her own way, said, “Everything that is good in our lives is because we served.”

A few years back a youth sacrament meeting speaker invited those who weren’t sure they felt God’s love to pray and ask whether Heavenly Father loves them.
I took that invitation to heart. Unbeknownst to me, my older sister also decided to do it. We each prayed individually that night. Months later we shared our experiences with one another. I told her how some time after praying, I’d allowed my mind to wander, eventually recalling a poem I had read about the Savior’s love. I had been overwhelmed by the Spirit, and I had felt of the joy of both my Heavenly Father’s and Savior’s love for me. Tears of joy had crept to my eyes, and I had again folded my arms, this time in a prayer of gratitude.
My sister, however, recollected to me that she felt as if she hadn’t received an answer like I had—no enlightening moment or warmth from the Spirit. At first she was disappointed. But in time, she came to realize that she didn’t need an answer like mine: she already knew. And that was her answer.
Do not be discouraged if an answer to a prayer is not what you want or are expecting. Everyone is different, and Heavenly Father can answer the question in different ways, but He does answer prayers.
Because I have pondered Heavenly Father’s love, I know that if we “ask God … with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ,” that “he will manifest the truth of it unto [us], by the power of the Holy Ghost. And by the power of the Holy Ghost [we] may know the truth of all things” (Moroni 10:4–5).

Johnny’s family situation wasn’t picture-perfect. His parents divorced when he was two, and his dad isn’t active in the Church, although he did support Johnny in his own way—going to his Primary programs and encouraging him in what mattered most.
In high school, Johnny made seminary a priority, even if he had to go alone. During summers when he lived with his dad, he drove himself and his sister to church. He read his scriptures without anyone nudging him. And when the time came to serve a mission, he chose to serve, even though he was nervous.
For Johnny, letting his covenants guide his life wasn’t about having a perfect family or ideal circumstances. It was about choosing Jesus Christ, even when it was hard. As he did this, his relationship with Christ deepened and allowed him to increase his faith and hope for the future.

I thought of a recent family home evening lesson on baptism. Dad opened his scriptures to the Doctrine and Covenants and read, “And this is my gospel—repentance and baptism by water, and then cometh the baptism of fire and the Holy Ghost, even the Comforter, which showeth all things, and teacheth the peaceable things of the kingdom” (D&C 39:6).
“The Holy Ghost speaks to us in a still, small voice,” Dad explained. “And if we obey Heavenly Father’s commandments and listen to that voice, we will be happy.”
Inside the church, I changed into a white jumpsuit, and Mom put my hair in a braid so it wouldn’t float to the top of the water. Then we took our seats for the baptismal service. Everyone sat quietly while Sister Larsen played hymns and Primary songs on the piano. Even my baby sister sat still. After the opening prayer, my big brother Preston and Grandpa Larsen sang my favorite Primary song, “I Am a Child of God.”* As I sang I knew that Heavenly Father loves me. I was grateful that He blessed me with a family that loves me.
When it was Grandpa Ochsenhirt’s turn to give his talk, he spoke directly to me. “The Holy Ghost will help you learn what is right and wrong so that you can make the right choices,” he said. “He will also give you the strength to choose the right. And if you try to keep Heavenly Father’s commandments, the Holy Ghost will be with you as a constant companion.”
That made me think about school. Schoolwork is hard for me, and I get frustrated because I have to try harder than other students. Some of my classmates tease me when I don’t do well on tests, and I want to say mean things back. And since I don’t like being teased, sometimes I’m tempted to look at my friend’s paper and get the right answers. Could the Holy Ghost help me handle school better?
When it was time for me to be baptized, I walked down the stairs to meet my dad in the baptismal font. My heart felt large and warm. I glanced at Mom and saw that her eyes were filled with tears. Dad smiled at me, hugged me, and helped me stand the way he had shown me. Then he said the simple prayer and lowered me under the water. Afterward, Mom met me at the top of the stairs with a towel. She wrapped it around me and squeezed me tight.
“I have a great feeling inside, Mom,” I said.
She hugged me again. “That’s the Holy Ghost telling you that you’re doing the right thing.”
After I changed out of my wet clothes, the men in the family who hold the Melchizedek Priesthood laid their hands on my head. They confirmed me a member of the Church and gave me the gift of the Holy Ghost. I seemed to be surrounded by a peaceful glow.
For many weeks I felt clean and happy. I loved talking about my baptism and how my heart seemed to be growing. My family and Primary teacher reminded me often that the Holy Ghost would help me know what was right and wrong.
A few days ago I had to take a test in school, and I was really nervous. I kept thinking how easy it would be to copy from the girl sitting next to me. I knew that cheating was wrong, but I was desperate to get a good score. Then I remembered that the Holy Ghost would help me. I said a prayer in my heart asking for strength to make the right choice.
The rest of the day, I felt as happy as I had at my baptism. After school, I ran to our car and gave Mom a hug. “I got 100 percent on my test!” I exclaimed.
“That’s great!” Mom said.
“And I didn’t even cheat.”
Mom frowned. “You wanted to cheat?”
“Well, I thought about it,” I admitted. “But I had a feeling inside that it was wrong. So I prayed for help and just tried my best.”
Mom smiled. “I’m glad you listened to that feeling.”
I’m glad too. Really glad. I always want to be worthy of my companion—the Holy Ghost.

We are blessed to live in a day when the Lord has called living prophets, seers, and revelators to warn us and guide us to prepare for today’s challenges. In 1998, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) gave inspired instruction and warning to Church members:
“The time has come to get our houses in order.
“So many of our people are living on the very edge of their incomes. In fact, some are living on borrowings. …
“The economy is a fragile thing. … There is a portent of stormy weather ahead to which we had better give heed.”2
Recently I spoke with a man who heard the words of President Hinckley and the promptings of the Spirit. He and his wife decided to liquidate their investments, pay off their home, and get out of debt.
Today that man is self-reliant. The economic downturn that followed had minimum impact on his family. In fact, his self-reliance made it possible for him and his wife to serve a mission.

Eventually my parents moved our family to Ontario, California, USA. My mother found herself in an unfamiliar country, unable to speak the language and in culture shock. Like a hen that gathers her chicks under her wings, she would gather all of us children and fall to her knees, pleading to Heavenly Father that none of the children He had given her would fall away from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My parents used family prayer, daily scripture reading, regular family fasts, weekly family home evening, and Church meetings to seek Heavenly Father’s help in fortifying our family.
My parents encouraged us to behave like missionaries early in life. We always wore white shirts to church and had missionary haircuts. As a priest I would bless the sacrament, and my younger brothers would prepare and pass the sacrament as teachers and deacons. I could see my mother and father watching us, making sure we completed our duties faithfully.
Before I left on my mission, my mother said, “Do your part, and I will do mine. I will fast and pray for you to find people to teach.” She continued fasting and praying for all four of her sons during their missions. We all served faithfully and returned home with honor.
During my last visit with her before her death, my mother said, “Peiholani, I have taught you all that I know to be most important in this life and the life to come. That is, the gospel of Jesus Christ is true. The atoning blood of Jesus Christ is salvation to your soul. Honor the covenants you have made with the Lord in the temple. Do this, and our family will be together again. This I know without a doubt because Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ live.”
My testimony was built on the gospel, by every word my mother and father said. I know that our family will be together again someday because my parents fulfilled their mission to teach us the gospel and lead us to the Savior.

Desmond Ahwireng, a youth, played Anansi, a legendary spider from African folklore. Onstage, Anansi went from village to village looking for all the good things in the world so he could keep them for himself, gathering them into a gourd he carried on his head. As he approached each village, the youth in that village sang and danced for him and gave him good things such as courage, service, love, music, and family.
At the end of his journey, Anansi found the Accra Ghana Temple. The beauty of the temple convinced the selfish spider that he should not keep all the good things he had collected for himself, so he emptied the contents of his gourd to share them with everyone. Anansi’s good deed was greeted by 700 Primary children, all dressed in white, singing “I Am a Child of God” (Hymns, no. 301).