Gospel Story Finder

What a waste of time, I thought angrily as I turned my bike around.
We were already late to an appointment with a golden family. We were missionaries in the Taiwan Taipei Mission, and my new companion, Elder Loo, always seemed to be lagging behind.
As I neared my companion, I noticed that the woman he was talking to was holding a thick stick in her hand. With her other hand she clenched the arm of a small, whimpering boy. I stopped behind my companion and listened as he tried to talk her out of beating the boy. She left without the stick.
Doesn’t he realize he’s ruining an appointment with the best family I’ve ever taught? my mind screamed. I peddled even faster.
We arrived at our appointment, sweaty and winded. At least I was. As I caught my breath and wiped the perspiration from my forehead, my companion began teaching about the “first and great commandment,” to love the Lord. “And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself” (Matt. 22:38–39), he read.
I flinched. Although I had taught this discussion a thousand times, it was as if I were hearing the scripture for the first time. I would have been glad to help that little boy if we hadn’t been on our way to an appointment, I rationalized.
But I couldn’t even convince myself.
We taught a beautiful discussion on sacrifice and service. On the way to our next appointment, I was planning their baptismal service in my mind. Suddenly, I realized that I was riding alone again. I looked up just in time to see my companion dart out into a busy intersection. A moment later I realized why.
A drunk had wrecked his motorcycle. He was bleeding profusely and seemed disoriented. I jumped off my bike and ran to help. The man cussed and pushed us away, but we managed to get him and his motorcycle to the side of the road. Despite our pleas that he get medical assistance, the man brushed himself off, got on his bike, and rode away.
I was amazed—not at the shock of the accident, but at my companion. He seemed to have a built-in radar system that detected people’s needs. How did he do it?
We were peddling slowly through the crowded night market when my companion stopped again. I watched as he knelt down near a child who appeared to be lost. The child’s eyes were red and puffy, and his face was streaked with tears. People milled around him, seeming not to notice his terrified screams.
At the sight of the large Hawaiian, the crowd suddenly took notice of the frightened child. People crowded around, offering to help locate the child’s parents. Assured that the child would be fine, my companion got back on his bike and rode off.
I followed in silence, my mind racing faster than my bicycle. Why hadn’t I noticed the crying child? Or the motorcyclist? Why did he see things that I missed?
Then it dawned on me. He saw things because he looked for them. That explained why he trailed behind. He wasn’t just enjoying the scenery; he was looking for people in need.
I wondered what I would see if I really looked.
The next morning I didn’t race ahead of my companion. We rode side by side, looking, listening, and seeking someone to serve. Soon, it seemed like there were more needs than we could possibly meet. Had they been there before?
Since then, whenever I think that no one needs my help, I slow down and take another look. It’s amazing what I see.

Elder Monte J. Brough of the First Quorum of the Seventy tells of a summer at his childhood home in Randolph, Utah, when he and his younger brother, Max, decided to build a tree house in a large tree in the backyard. They made plans for the most wonderful creation of their lives. They gathered building materials from all over the neighborhood and carried them up to a part of the tree where two branches provided an ideal location for the house. It was difficult, and they were anxious to complete their work. The vision of the finished tree house provided tremendous motivation for them to complete the project.

They worked all summer, and finally in the fall just before school began for the new year, their house was completed. Elder Brough said he will never forget the feelings of joy and satisfaction which were theirs when they finally were able to enjoy the fruit of their work. They sat in the tree house, looked around for a few minutes, climbed down from the tree—and never returned. The completed project, as wonderful as it was, could not hold their interest for even one day. In other words, the process of planning, gathering, building, and working—not the completed project—provided the enduring satisfaction and pleasure they had experienced.

Let us relish life as we live it and, as did Elder Brough and his brother, Max, find joy in the journey.

The landscape was nothing like she was used to. Hot, dry, and not a snowflake in sight, Texas seemed almost like another planet to Kayli C. For a girl who grew up in Alaska, that’s an understandable reaction.

“In Alaska, during the summer we called our hot weather anything above 50 degrees,” Kayli said. “In Texas it was hard to breathe because it was so humid and hot outside.”

For Kayli, the weather shift from Alaska to Texas was only one change among many. Her dad had just died in an unexpected tragedy, and their mother was unable to care for Kayli and her two younger sisters. At the time, Kayli, now a junior in high school, was 13, and her younger sisters, Jada and Rhianna, were only 10 and 8.

Extended family decided that the best solution would be for the three siblings to move in with their older sister and her husband in Texas.

Even though Jenny, Kayli’s older sister, and Jenny’s husband, Matt, welcomed the three siblings with open arms, this was anything but an easy transition.

First there was the weather. There was also the fact that, to the small-town sisters, the huge schools of Texas were overwhelming.

And then there was this whole practice of attending church …

“I loved growing up in Alaska,” Kayli says. “I loved the snow and cold. I loved going outside. Everything was so pretty. And I loved ice skating, sledding, and all the winter stuff.”

She’s also quick to point out a few other things about life back in Alaska. “My friends and I saw that doing bad things was how you got popular. And to me, being popular was how you became happy. So I wasn’t headed in a good direction.”

One of Kayli’s friends became pregnant. Another got involved with drugs. Some of her other friends started becoming extremely negative all the time.

“I liked living in Alaska,” Kayli says again. “But I really have to wonder where my life would be if I’d stayed there. A lot of my friends in Alaska are not in a good place now.”

One important event in Kayli’s life happened before she was even walking and talking. While Kayli was still very young, her older sister Jenny met the missionaries in college and joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. After attending one year of college in Alaska, Jenny transferred to BYU–Idaho, where she met her husband, Matt. After graduation, Matt and Jenny moved to Texas.

When they took in the younger siblings, Matt and Jenny had two rules about religion: “The first was that they would attend church with us, as part of the family,” says Jenny. “The second rule was that Matt and I would never require them to be baptized or even to take the missionary lessons. That had to be their own choice.”

So, Kayli started attending church as well as midweek activities. At first, it didn’t really do much for her. “I attended, but I didn’t believe anything,” Kayli says. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”

However, she began to notice something unusual. “Every time I went to church or youth activities, I’d be happy.”

After a couple years of noticing this, Kayli was ready to meet a very special friend.

“I met my friend Maddie when we moved to another part of Texas the summer before 10th grade,” Kayli says. “She introduced herself and became such a great example to me.”

Kayli says that Maddie always seems upbeat and joyful, even when times get tough. As their friendship grew, Kayli looked forward to attending Church meetings and activities more.

“Maddie is such a good friend,” Kayli says.

Photographs by Aubrey Stock

Another big influence in Kayli’s life was seminary. Unlike when she first attended church, this time Kayli truly started paying close attention to what was being taught. “The reason why I started paying attention in seminary is that the people around me were really good at answering questions and participating. I wanted to be a part of that.”

The stars were aligning, as they say. Between studying the Book of Mormon in seminary, seeing the gospel bring happiness to her older sister, brother-in-law, and others in the ward, and making some key friendships, Kayli was ready to say yes when Maddie asked if she’d like to take the missionary lessons at her house.

From there, things moved quickly. Kayli and her younger sister—who was asked independently and by a different friend to take the lessons at that friend’s house—decided to be baptized on the same day.

“In Alaska, my happiness came from hanging out with my friends and trying to be popular,” Kayli says. “Now my happiness comes from the gospel. I’ve learned so much from the members here. I’ve learned that happiness and light come through Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father.”

Kayli’s testimony of the gospel grew, in large part, with a close study of the Book of Mormon in seminary. These days, the Book of Mormon is still just as important to her as ever. “The Book of Mormon is one of the main things that has been bringing me happiness,” she explains. “It’s changed me so much. I want others to feel that too and have been trying to share it.”

She carries the Book of Mormon with her everywhere she goes, including school. “There are so many things that kids at school do that drive the Spirit away, like using bad language or trying too hard to be popular,” Kayli says. “Keeping a Book of Mormon in my backpack helps me remember my goal: to keep the Spirit and share the positivity that the gospel brings us.”

She doesn’t know if her testimony would have had that chance to grow, though, if it hadn’t been for the faithful examples of Church members around her. “Members of the Church were a part of me being baptized,” she says. “Without their examples and spiritual light, I probably wouldn’t have noticed anything different in them and would have continued not paying attention to anything Church-related.”

Kayli and her siblings have definitely been through some hard times in the past. Yet Kayli has found hope for her future, and it’s a hope she wants to pass on to anybody else struggling through a hard time right now.

“Remember to press forward and keep focusing on the positive side of things,” Kayli says. “And if you’ve lost a loved one, remember that Heavenly Father has a plan for you and for others. We’ll be able to live with our families forever if we do what’s right.”

Some gifts Si has received were not altogether welcome at first. One day in 1977 a young man named Duane Simpson walked into Si’s room, snapped off the TV set, and demanded, “What are you doing with your life, Si? Why are you wasting your time watching TV? There’s nothing wrong with your brain—Why aren’t you using it?”
Si was stunned. His mother was furious. But Duane continued, “Si, I’m here to help you any way I can.” He explained that he had been assigned to Si as a tutor.
Beginning then, Si’s life changed dramatically. “I guess I needed Duane to bawl me out like that. I wasn’t doing anything because I never really thought there was anything I could do. But he helped me to change my attitude.”
Since then Si has worked off all of his grade 11, and is now completing grade 12. His aim is university entrance and a degree in social work.
How does someone in his condition study? He listens to tapes and his tutor. The tutor then reads him the questions, he figures them out in his mind, then answers “orally.” His tutor reads his lips, writes down the answers, and sends them to the Alberta Correspondence School to be graded. It is a slow, tedious way to study, but Si quips, “I’m getting better marks than I ever did before.”

Years later, at the age of 15, the Prophet’s nephew Joseph F. Smith was called to serve a mission in Hawaii. You will remember that he was only five when his father, Hyrum, was martyred. His mother, Mary Fielding, died when he was just 13. Upon arriving on the island of Maui, young Joseph fell gravely ill. Despite these and other adversities, he wrote to Elder George A. Smith: “I am ready to bear my testimony … at any time, or at any place, or in whatsoever circumstances I may be placed. … I am ready to go through thick and thin for this cause in which I am engaged” (as quoted in Joseph Fielding Smith, comp., Life of Joseph F. Smith [1938], 176).

In 1847 Latter-day Saint pioneers were traveling across what is now the United States to find their promised land in the West.
The Saints did not know exactly where they were supposed to go. Brigham Young was President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles at the time. He was the only one who knew where the Lord wanted them to establish Zion. But he was very ill.
Brigham Young: Elder Woodruff, I need to continue traveling westward.
Elder Woodruff: But you’re too sick!
Brigham Young: Nonsense. Just lay me in the back of your carriage.
On July 24, 1847, Elder Woodruff drove the team of horses pulling his carriage toward the Great Salt Lake. Lying in the back of the carriage was President Young.
Elder Woodruff: Heavenly Father, please bless President Young that he will know where to lead the Saints.
As soon as President Young saw the desert valley of the Great Salt Lake, he told Elder Woodruff to stop.
Brigham Young: This is the right place; for the Lord has shown it to me in a vision.
Twenty-two years later, Elder Woodruff remembered that event as he was writing in his journal.
Elder Woodruff: Today I attended a Pioneer Day celebration. We now number more than 100,000 souls. See what God hath wrought!

I drive an old car that lacked an interior dome light when I bought it. During the day the missing light didn’t matter, but at night I always felt a little nervous getting into my car in the dark. If I needed to follow written directions, I had to pull over under a streetlight. If I dropped anything, it was difficult to find. Having no interior light was inconvenient, but I got used to it.
When a friend returned my car after borrowing it, I discovered she had installed a new light. She told me the bulb had cost less than a dollar and took about a minute to install. It was wonderful! How had I ever lived without it?
During the next few weeks, I realized that finally having an interior car light was like finally having spiritual light. I had thought my life was okay the way it was, but in reality I was suffering from lack of spiritual light. My fear of entering a dark car reminded me of my fear of dying without having repented. Looking for streetlights so I could read instructions was like having gospel conversations with trusted friends—but I couldn’t always rely on borrowed light. Losing items in the dark was like forgetting gospel principles, which happens easily without the light of the Spirit. I was still able to drive my car and get through life without the light, but I was missing out on blessings of peace, guidance, and understanding. All it took to start bringing back the light was repentance—a process that began when I saw the bishop and started attending church again.

Ariel C. shares the story of a time when she was applying for an important summer academic program. “I prayed every morning and night for it,” she says. “I prayed before tests and every single day. I prayed that I would do well on the tests so that my GPA would be good and I might get accepted.” Six months later Ariel was accepted into the program, and she’s sure that because of her hard work and preparation, as well as her daily prayers, she received divine help and guidance from the Holy Ghost. The experience “reinforced to me that Heavenly Father really does answer our prayers and that He doesn’t forget us,” she adds.

To the young men of the priesthood, if you haven’t served a mission, this is not the time for a lot of involvement in love or romance. It is a time for saving money. Do you know how much a mission costs today? It averages about $150 a month. For a two-year mission, that is $3,600.
One young man was startled when his father sat down with him to figure how he could earn that money. Noting that the most productive earning time would be from ages 16–19, they figured that he would have to save at least $1,000 each year for that three-year period. This also meant that the young man had to earn another $600 before age 16 (he was then 12) to save sufficiently for his mission. Hopefully, many start earlier than that.
You’ve heard some of our young men say, “But I can’t find a job. No one will hire me.” May I suggest to you the example of one enterprising 13-year-old who has already produced some handbills that he is passing out in his neighborhood. The handbill reads: “When you’re on vacation and need someone to care for your yard, or if you want any odd jobs done, call Bill, because when you call me, I’ll be there.” He then signed his name and included his phone number. He already has his summer filled with work.

“President Lee once told of a woman in New York who approached him concerning her nonmember husband. Her spouse wanted her to attend parties that were far below Church standards. President Lee advised her that whereas a woman should follow her husband, she need not follow him to hell. The husband, upon hearing this from his wife, was, like your parents, extremely resentful.

“Let your parents know how much you love them and appreciate their offer but also that the Lord has said that sacrament meeting is the most important meeting we have to attend. Being the only member or active member of a family is sometimes a lonely ordeal. But if we seek to do the Lord’s will over the conflicting desires of loved ones who don’t or won’t understand, he will bless us. He certainly blessed the lady from New York. A few months after she had revealed the advice of the prophet, her ‘resentful’ husband was baptized.”

I wish you didn’t have to go to the Madsens’ ranch without me,” Mother said, “but I can’t leave Baby Jody.”
“That’s all right, Mother,” Hilda said. “It’s only a mile.”
“And we’ll hurry,” added Peter.
But Mother still looked worried. Hilda knew Mother was thinking about the renegade Indians who had been giving the settlers trouble that summer of 1858.
Mother lifted a stoneware crock off a shelf and took out a soft deerskin purse closed with a buckskin thong.
“Let me carry the purse, Mother,” Peter pleaded.
“No!” Hilda said crossly as she grabbed the purse. “You might lose it. Then what would Father do for boots and a coat?”
Peter was ten years old and was miffed at his twelve-year-old sister’s lack of confidence in him. He followed Hilda in silence as they left their cabin and started up the hill. Mother had told them to stay on the hill’s crest and to be watchful. Loose stones and prickly sagebrush made walking between cedar and juniper trees difficult, but the trees made Hilda feel that she and her brother would not be easily seen.
They were almost at the top of the hill when Hilda turned to tell Peter to hurry. Her brother, his round face pale, pointed below them. Hilda’s stomach tightened when she saw what Peter was pointing at.
Three Indians, their backs toward the children, crouched behind a pile of boulders beside the cattle trail. In plain view below them was the Madsen ranch, and between the waiting Indians and the ranch rode the two oldest Madsen boys, herding cows toward the corral.
Hilda realized that as soon as John and Lars got a little closer, the Indians would try to steal the cows. They might even hurt the boys to get their horses.
“What should we do, Peter?” whispered Hilda. They looked at the leather purse she held. Inside were coins that they had worked all summer to earn. Brother Madsen was to take the money to Salt Lake City the next morning so that missionaries leaving for England, where Father was serving his own mission, could deliver the money to him. It was important to warn Lars and John about the waiting Indians, but it was also important to get the money to Brother Madsen.
Tears started down Peter’s round cheeks. “No renegades are going to stop Father from getting that money,” he cried.
Hilda didn’t scold Peter about his tears. She felt like crying herself. Day after day she and her brother had followed herds of sheep around the valley in order to pick wool from the branches and bushes that the sheep brushed against.
Every evening the children had stuffed the wool they had gathered into a sack. Bit by bit the amount grew. Then a couple of days ago they had helped Mother wrestle the heavy sack into their wagon for the drive to the co-op store.
“You must have worked all summer to gather so much wool, Mrs. Hancock,” Brother Cox said when he weighed it.
“I didn’t gather an ounce of that wool,” Mother replied, smiling at her children. “Hilda and Peter picked every bit of it.”
“Their father will be very proud of them.”
“He certainly will,” said Mother. “My husband wrote that he needs a warm coat and sturdy new boots for the cold English winter. The children gathered the wool to help pay for them.”
Brother Cox smiled. “Money for this much wool will buy him boots and a coat, with some left over.”
He handed several coins to Mother, who put them into the leather purse—the one Hilda now clutched with both hands as she and Peter stared at the crouching Indians.
“Father must have boots and a coat,” Peter insisted, “or he will get cold and wet, the way he did last winter.”
Hilda agreed. She remembered the letter Father had written in late spring. It had made Mother cry. He said he had walked so many miles preaching the gospel that his boots were worn through, and cold, wet feet and the flu had forced him to his bed.
Peter added stoutly, “But first we must warn Lars and John about the Indians!”
“How can we get past the Indians, Peter?”
Her brother stuck his chin out. “If we slip down the other side of the ridge, they won’t see us.”
Hilda hoped Peter was right. She didn’t think about her brother being only ten years old now as she struggled to follow him down the steep slope. She had trouble making her way silently through thorny bushes and stiff sagebrush, carrying the deerskin purse in her hand. Finally she stopped to tie the buckskin thong to her wrist, then hurried after Peter, who was running in the soft sand of a dry streambed.
The Madsen boys were directly ahead of them now. Peter shouted, “Lars! John! Renegades!” He pointed up the hill.
Instantly the Madsen boys turned their horses. Lars swung Peter up behind him; John did the same with Hilda. The boys began to shout, turning the cows away from the hill and hazing them down the slope.
The next few moments were filled with noise and excitement. Hilda held her arms tightly around John’s waist. Hoarse, angry cries from the Indians as they watched their prey escape sounded above the clatter of racing hooves.
Then they were safely at the ranch. After he helped them down from the horses, Brother Madsen hugged Hilda and shook Peter’s hand. “You two certainly have made it my privilege to carry your money to Salt Lake City,” he said.
Hilda looked at her arm and gasped. The leather purse was gone! She turned and, with no explanation, began to run back up the hill. Her knees felt weak, and her heart pounded. Oh, what if the money is lost forever! she agonized. She didn’t even think about the renegades. Her only thought was of her father spending his last winter in England with worn-out boots and no coat.
Peter realized what had happened and caught up with Hilda. They searched the ground and the bushes. Up the dry streambed they ran. No purse.
As they started up the slope where the undergrowth was the thickest, Hilda began to cry. They were nearly to the place where she had tied the purse to her wrist, when Peter stopped and said, “Hilda, we need help.”
“Yes,” she sobbed. “Go ask Brother Madsen to—”
“I don’t mean help from him.” Peter looked very grown-up as he said, “Hilda, we’ll ask Heavenly Father.”
Together the children knelt down. Hilda scarcely felt the stiff branches and sharp rocks under her knees as her brother prayed aloud for help to find the leather purse.
They stood up. Silently they continued to climb the slope. Hilda turned her head. Almost hidden beneath a gooseberry bush was the leather purse.
It was Peter who carried the purse back to the Madsen ranch and he who handed the purse to Brother Madsen.
“This money will be on its way to your father first thing tomorrow,” Brother Madsen promised. “John and Lars will take you home, in case those renegades are still up to some mischief. Anything else we can do to help?”
Hilda looked at her brother, then shook her head. “No thank you,” she said. “We’ve already been helped.”

The reason this story, together with President Hinckley’s counsel, comes to mind is that they closely mirror my own experience with tithing. I learnt that rendering “to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s”4 in diligence and love of Heavenly Father can really change our so-called fortunes. Once I decided to bring tithes into the storehouse and prove the Lord of hosts,5 the debts that I had struggled to pay for some years were settled in a few months. My self-reliance improved as a result, and it has been getting better and better ever since. All of this was the result of listening to a well-prepared talk given in a normal church meeting I attended and decided to act on the teachings received.

My husband and I were living in New Zealand during 2012 when Parliament was debating a bill that would redefine marriage and the family. We read the bill and were concerned about how it would affect religious freedom and the sanctity of motherhood, fatherhood, and marriage.
As part of the process, Parliament invited everyone in the country to send in their opinions about the proposed bill. We knew that the Lord’s doctrine on marriage and family was clear on this issue, and we felt we needed to speak up. We noticed a box on the form that we could check if we were willing to stand before Parliament to defend our position. My husband and I looked at each other and said, “Let’s check the box!”
We received word several months later that we were chosen to present before a Parliamentary committee. After much prayer and fasting, my husband felt directed to share thoughts from Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf,1 and I felt a strong prompting to go back to the moment when President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) presented “The Family: A Proclamation to the World” in the 1995 Relief Society general meeting.2 We both felt led to know what to say; it was undeniable. We also knew it was going to be very hard. We decided to put everything in God’s hands and said, “We’ll do what you want us to do; we’ll say what you want us to say,”3 even if it may be unpopular. We became more concerned about what would be recorded in heaven versus what would be recorded in Parliament.
As the day arrived and they called our names, they told us we had the option of presenting separately or together. We immediately thought, “What symbolism! Of course we will go up and defend the doctrine of the family together.”
After we gave our statements, members of Parliament started their questioning. They didn’t seem happy with what we said, and answering their questions wasn’t easy. Eventually our time was up, but before we left, we handed each member of Parliament and the press a copy of our statements and a copy of “The Family: A Proclamation to the World.”
This was a difficult experience, but it changed our lives. We learned that it is possible (and necessary) to talk to others about the Lord’s doctrine on marriage and family—and that it can be done with courage, clarity, and kindness. Our relationship with Heavenly Father has been strengthened, and our testimony of the doctrine of the family has grown. We testify of the tremendous blessings and joy that have come into our lives as a result of this experience.

In 1981, Julia was introduced to the Church. The missionaries, performing community service in Soweto, found a boys’ center in desperate need of repair. For several weeks they cleaned up the premises.3

One day, Julia was asked to serve at that same boys’ club. When she arrived, she was astonished to see “two white boys hurling their spades into the brown dust.” The missionaries asked if they could come to her home and deliver a message. Three days later, Elders David McCombs and Joel Heaton showed up wearing their missionary attire and name tags.

Julia said that the first two missionary lessons “went in one ear and out the other.” But on their third visit, the missionaries asked about a photograph of Julia and John on her wall. She mentioned that her husband was dead, and the missionaries felt prompted to tell her about the plan of salvation and baptism for the dead. She said, “Then I started listening, really listening, with my heart. … As the missionaries taught me the principle of eternal relationships, I had the feeling that here is the way to be with my parents and my husband.” Julia was baptized five months later.

One of those he learned much from was his mother. She was, he recalls, a “great cook.” His chocolate dessert is a family tradition.

In November of 1983 he flew to California to attend the Fair Oaks Stake conference. Arriving early at the stake president’s home, he was taken on a tour of the family’s vegetable garden.

“I saw that he had leeks, a very popular vegetable in Belgium. Not having grown them before, the president wasn’t sure how to prepare them. I said, ‘Let’s make soup.’ So that Saturday evening after our conference meetings, with the stake president in the kitchen, we prepared leek soup to serve twenty-two people the next day—the high council and other stake leaders. I think I’ll be remembered there as a soup maker rather than a General Authority!”

By Rajane S., Jamaica
I have always been fascinated by genealogy work, so when our Area Presidency gave the youth the goal of gathering 10 ancestors’ names to do baptisms and confirmations for them at the temple, I was ecstatic.
I started my research without any help, but I wasn’t getting anywhere. I had three names without any information, and at that point I felt stuck both spiritually and physically. I decided to ask my mother for help. She suggested that I call her mother. When I called my grandmother, she was more than happy to help. She even gave me permission to act as proxy on behalf of the names we talked about. I was overjoyed and grateful.
The temple trip was approaching, and I had no names from my father’s side. A few hours before I was to leave home, I felt impressed to go to the cemetery and have my father call his aunt to come. We went to the cemetery, and as I watched my father and great-aunt walk around the cemetery, I felt myself being led toward some of my ancestors’ headstones. I felt their willingness to be part of the gospel. With help from the Holy Ghost and from my family members, I had reached my target. I had the names of 16 temple-ready ancestors!
When I went to the temple, I could feel the enthusiasm and excitement of my ancestors who were ready and waiting. During the baptisms and confirmations, I could feel their souls filled with joy and peace. I felt amazing, and all I wanted to do was thank them for giving me the opportunity to be a part of something so special.

On another occasion, I met a young man 14 years of age who was a superb tennis player. He had won all of the tennis tournaments in his class in an area that included several states. He had reached the semifinals of a very important tournament that was to take place in a distant city. As he arrived there, he found that he was scheduled to participate on Sunday. He went to the officials and told them he didn’t play tennis on Sunday; whereupon he was informed that if he wanted to play in this tournament, he would play on Sunday. He again indicated he would not play on Sunday, knowing that not to do so would mean he would forfeit the match. As it happened, the matches were rained out on Sunday. He played on Monday and won.
He then went by bus with the other finalists to another major city to compete in the championship matches that covered the entire Atlantic coastal region of the United States. They arrived on Sunday. The coach instructed the contestants to get out on the tennis courts and practice immediately upon arrival. This young man did not go to the tennis courts. The coach asked him why he wasn’t practicing. He said, “I don’t play tennis on Sunday.” The coach asked him why. His response was, “I am a Mormon.”
I suppose he wanted to win the championship for his age group more than anything else, and yet he himself had made the decision that keeping the Sabbath day holy was more important than being a champion in tennis. You see, he had found himself and had the courage and integrity to live his life according to the principles he had been taught, and he had made his decision regardless of social pressures.

Halfway through my senior year of high school, I received a huge surprise. My parents had been called to preside over the Uruguay Montevideo Mission, which meant they’d be moving to the other end of the world with my four younger siblings. I was already stressed about graduating high school, but now I’d be attending college all alone, with my family on a different continent. I was terrified.
My transition from high school to college was extremely hard for me. While I was surrounded by kind roommates and thousands of students, I had never felt more alone. The pressures of school were overwhelming. I didn’t know what I wanted to study and found the classes challenging. I was also struggling through an emotionally manipulative relationship, which took a huge toll on my mental health. My fear of the future overwhelmed me.
Soon my feelings of depression, fear, and loneliness made it hard to function. Even normal routines felt impossible. One morning, I was asking Heavenly Father to give me the strength to make it through the day. “I can’t keep doing this alone,” I prayed. In a rare moment of mental and emotional clarity, I had the words come to my mind “You don’t have to.” Peace flooded my mind. The storm in my mind was calmed.
The next few months (and years) weren’t easy. My feelings of depression and loneliness didn’t instantly go away. But for the first time, I understood on a personal level what it meant to have a Savior. I knew He understood my challenges and my pain. I knew He was the only one who could help me, and He did.
Years later, I’m a returned missionary, a college graduate, and happily married. And I know I wouldn’t have achieved any of those goals if I hadn’t trusted in the Lord.

My junior year in high school was the hardest for me. Chemistry, AP history, honors English, and algebra 2 were among the difficult classes that consumed my schedule. How would I ever get through this year? My answer came when I noticed one person in almost all my classes. Darren Hart was a very intelligent 16-year-old. I had known him since our freshman year but only as an acquaintance. Here was my opportunity to get to know him better and see if some of his brilliance would rub off on me. Soon we were studying together. In fact, a group of us got together every other night to do our homework. It proved to be a big help.
In English class, we had the assignment to read Billy Budd by Herman Melville. After reading the book, we were assigned to write an essay on its symbolism, including references to the Bible stories. No problem. I had gone to Primary and Sunday School, so I had a pretty good understanding of the stories in the Bible.
But Darren wasn’t a member of any church, and he was not familiar with the scripture stories. He asked for my help, and I willingly agreed. After all, he had helped me through my other classes. It was the least I could do. I suggested it would be best to write down all the symbolism we could find and organize it into a paper later.
The first reference we came to was Joseph and his coat of many colors. Darren had no idea what this story was about. I knew I had my work cut out for me. I asked him if he had a Bible. He came back with a different version than I was used to. I summarized the stories for him, commenting on how the stories in his translation of the Bible were a little different from the ones in the King James version. He asked me to explain the differences to him.
Darren then began questioning me about my church. I thought, You’re asking me? I don’t know enough. I’m only 16. Where is a missionary when you need one?
I began explaining a few differences between the LDS church and other churches. I tried my best to draw upon my seminary classes and the basic knowledge I had. My throat was dry, and my voice halting as I tried to find the right words.
As I began talking about the gospel, a funny thing happened. I began recalling knowledge I didn’t know I had. I explained gospel concepts in such a way that even I understood them better. My dry throat became moist again, and the trembling in my voice ceased. My tense muscles relaxed, and I felt a calm feeling flow through my body. Darren listened attentively to what I had to say, asking questions when he didn’t understand. What started out as a simple explanation turned into a six-hour discussion. The words came with such great ease, I knew that the Spirit was with me.
The next few days were a little scary. What do I do now? Should I ask him to church? No, he will think I just want to convert him. But I do want to convert him. Maybe I should just leave it alone. No, I must do something.
I finally mustered up the courage to ask Darren to church. “Darren, I noticed how interested you were in my church. Would you be interested in coming with me sometime?”
He immediately replied, “I’d love to!”
Did he just say yes? I can’t believe it. “I’ll pick you up at 8:45 Sunday morning.”
In the months that followed, Darren took the discussions from the missionaries. He began by reading the Book of Mormon and attending church almost weekly. We spent a lot of time studying church subjects and having the missionaries explain confusing gospel concepts to him. Darren was afraid that he would join the Church and then decide that the commitment was too much for him. So he studied and pondered the thought of baptism for a long time. One night the missionaries asked Darren when he wanted to be baptized. He gave them a date, much to my surprise. Tears filled my eyes as an overwhelming sense of joy blanketed my heart. I had been waiting for this for a long time. Now it was all coming true.
On a beautiful spring evening, Darren entered the waters of baptism. The gospel was something I had taken for granted in my life. It was such a tremendous blessing to be a member of the Church, and now I was able to help someone else have that gift.
What if I had passed up the opportunity to tell Darren about the Church? I am glad I was able to have the Spirit with me that evening and that I had the courage to teach what I knew to be true.

I recently had the opportunity of attending Especially for Youth. Youth from all over the country gathered together for a fun and spiritually uplifting youth conference. My personal favorite activity was the service project. At that time, something happened to me that definitely changed me for the better.
On Wednesday, my group sat on the lawn, anticipating what activity was in store for us. We tried to guess what the counselors had planned. My group looked up to see one of our counselors holding the hand of a young person who was clumsily skipping toward us. As they got closer, we realized that our counselor was holding the hand of a young boy with Down’s syndrome. A contagious smile stretched across the boy’s face, letting us know that he was excited to be with us. We immediately noticed a name tag, Hello! My name is Mike. We were asked to play games with Mike and have a good time. The boys in the group asked Mike what his favorite game was. “Kickball!” he shouted, so we gathered some bases and a ball and began to play.
While waiting in line to kick, I was approached by the director of my EFY session, Brother Buckner. We started talking and laughing. I told him that Mike was extremely polite and fun to be around. I also mentioned how much I loved doing service for others and how great it made me feel.
Brother Buckner smiled, then asked, “Have you ever met anyone guaranteed to be in the celestial kingdom?”
Puzzled, I replied, “You mean Mike?”
With a slight nod of his head, he responded by saying, “Yes, so who is serving whom?”
His question surprised me, and I began to think. I realized that, since we are not from the same place, the next time I would see Mike he will most likely be in perfect form without flaw. His constant smile made me think that somewhere inside of him, he knows it too. I also realized that Mike taught me more about life and how to enjoy it in 30 minutes than I had learned in my previous 16 years.
I think of Mike every day, and I thank Heavenly Father for allowing me to have the opportunity to meet him and learn from him.