Gospel Story Finder

In the first of what will be an annual event, the youth of the Bristol England Stake held a super raft race on a marine lake.
The group gathered at Weston-Super-Mare on a sunny but brisk day in June. The rules were simple. Each group had to make their own raft and using manpower take it across the lake and back. But it was easier said than done. The eight rafts gave the word unstable a new meaning. But through team effort the Weston Ward won.
After everyone dried off, the group held a barbecue and dance to complete the activity. Although the water was cold and the wind brisk, the glow of good fellowship added a special warmth to the day.

The woodland was under a heavy shroud of cloud cover that weekend. Rain filtered through the air, and the cameramen waited patiently to expose their film. It rained, and they prayed. And it rained some more. If the filmmakers were unable to complete filming in that one week during the spring of 1975, the project would have to wait a year until the surroundings were right again. The season would soon change, and to add to the problems, the lead actor had to leave the following Friday. On Monday morning the crew awoke before dawn and began to set up all their equipment, thinking somehow they could compensate for the weather. But suddenly it stopped raining. When the sun came up, they beheld the loveliest mist they had ever seen. The tall, wet grasses sparkled, and the birds burst forth in song, and they knew they had been blessed with a beauty they could never have produced themselves.
That morning the Brigham Young University Department of Film Production began filming scenes for the First Vision. Stewart Petersen, who played the Prophet Joseph, walked through those tall grasses with thoughts of that other “beautiful, clear day, early in the spring of eighteen hundred and twenty” (JS—H 1:14) when Joseph Smith humbly prayed for an answer to his question, “Which of all the churches should I join?”

I vividly remember a conversation I had with my roommates during my freshman year at BYU. One night at dinner we were discussing what we would give our mothers for Christmas. I had been raised in a very middle-class family, but I attended high school with wealthy, upper-class Jewish students. I had no other point of reference, so by the standards of my peers, my family was pretty poor. As I discussed gift suggestions with my college roommates, I mentioned that I was contemplating giving my mother a telephone for Christmas. She seemed to already have everything else she needed. One of my roommates said, “I’m going to buy my mother a store-bought blouse. I don’t remember her ever owning a piece of new, store-bought clothing.” Wow, was I humbled in a hurry! My naive eyes had awakened to the real world.

In 2003, I married and moved to South Africa where I have lived for the past 15 years. I often visit extended family in Maputo once or twice a year. While there I like to visit different wards to worship on a Sunday. As a pioneer member in Maputo, Mozambique, I love seeing the growth of the church in my home country. I love visiting old friends – brothers and sisters in the gospel – and to meet new members. I get tremendous satisfaction from seeing that my friends are still actively engaged in this work of salvation – the gospel of Jesus Christ – standing still and immovable in faith.
I was recently in Maputo and attended Polana and Sommershield wards. I was able to catch half of the sacrament meeting from Polana and then attended other meetings in Sommershield. While sitting in the congregation I was very pleased to see one of my Primary children, Vinícius, now a married young adult. He was sitting on the stand, conducting the Sacrament Meeting. As our eyes met, we smiled at each other and as I gazed around the congregation I saw other familiar faces – one of whom was Vinicius’ brother. My eyes were filled with tears of joy to see my former Primary children, 18 years later still active in the church. After the intermediate hymn, Vinícius stood up to announce the rest of the sacrament program from the pulpit to the congregation. Vinicius served his mission in Brazil and married in the temple not long ago. He is currently studying at university and serving as the second counsellor in the bishopric of Polana ward. With tears rolling my face, my thoughts went back to those Primary years when Vinícius and his brother were part of the Primary children that I served. I could picture in my mind the things that he used do and say to me then.
I felt the Holy Ghost whispering to me “your service in Primary has made a difference to someone…look at the fruit”. I had the sweetest feeling contemplating that moment. I was reminded of the scripture found in Mosiah 2:17 that says “when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God”. My heart felt full and I was glad to be able to witness Heavenly Father’s plan for each of His children. I was grateful that I accepted the calling to serve in Primary and that I strived to learn how best to serve Heavenly Father’s children during my calling. I know of many more Primary children, like Vinícius, who are faithful followers of the Saviour. Many have served full-time missions and are currently receiving an education to prepare for their future careers and in future leadership callings in the church.

A good man had been given the assignment in his ward of arranging the Boy Scout banquet. He had worked hard, made his choices, and carried them through. The tables were set, the food was in the pot, and the hour was drawing nigh.
His wife came over early to check things out. Everything seemed in order, but it looked mighty colorless to her trained eye. She turned to him and said, “Okay, Honey, but what are you going to use for the centerpieces?”
Surprised, he looked at the stark setting and considered the matter gravely for a moment. Then, in the full agency of his manhood, he replied, “Butter—squares of butter!”
Now that is what you might call freedom of choice—agency. And that’s what we’re going to talk about for a few minutes, agency and accountability. I must add that should we happen to choose butter for the centerpiece, we can’t expect compliments on the decor. We have our free agency, but we also have to accept the consequences of our choices. It isn’t so serious in centerpieces, but in matters of life, and of life after death, it is critical.

The fourth key to self-esteem is the love of work. The most gifted athlete at our university excelled at every sport. He played football and ran the hurdles—in fact, he held the conference record in the low hurdles. Our coach, Ike Armstrong, required that the sprinters run once a week with the quarter milers for three hundred yards to increase the stamina of the sprinters and increase the speed of the quarter-milers. My friend—the great athlete—would lead all of the runners for about 275 yards, but as soon as the first quarter miler passed him he would quit and wouldn’t even finish. His natural talent and ability was such that he never had to extend himself to excel. He married, but the marriage failed. He went on into professional football and was something of a star until he got into the drug scene and died from the debilitating effects of drugs and alcohol. Others with much less talent have achieved far more.

Some of you who are familiar with Oxford University may know that it’s the world’s oldest university. The building that I lived in as a student was built in 1410—beautiful to look at, uncomfortable to live in. When I arrived at Oxford, I realized it was going to be difficult to be an active member of the Church. The Rhodes Scholarship Trust, which had given me my scholarship, had a lot of activities for the recipients of the scholarship.
As I looked at the extent to which I wanted to be involved in church, I realized that I didn’t know the Book of Mormon was true. I had read it several times but usually as an assignment—from my parents or a Brigham Young University instructor. But this time I desperately needed to know if the Book of Mormon was true. So I decided that I would commit every evening from 11:00 to 12:00 to reading the Book of Mormon to find out if it was true.
I wondered if I dared spend that much time because I was in a very demanding academic program, studying applied econometrics. I was going to try to finish the program in two years, whereas most people in the program finished it in three. I didn’t know if I could afford allocating an hour a day to this effort.
But nonetheless I did. I began at 11:00 by kneeling in prayer near a little heater in the stone wall, and I prayed out loud. I told God how desperate I was to find out if the Book of Mormon was true. I told Him that if He would reveal to me that it was true, I then intended to dedicate my life to building His kingdom. I told Him that if it wasn’t true, I needed to know that for certain too because then I would dedicate my life to finding out what was true.
I read the first page of the Book of Mormon. When I got down to the bottom of the page, I stopped. I thought about what I had read on that page, and I asked myself, “Could this have been written by a charlatan who was trying to deceive people, or was this really written by a prophet of God? And what did it mean for me in my life?” Then I put the book down and knelt in prayer and asked God again, “Please tell me if this is a true book.” Then I sat in the chair, picked up the book, turned the page, read it, paused at the bottom, and did the same thing. I did this for an hour every night, night after night, in that cold, damp room at Oxford.
One evening, by the time I got to the chapters at the end of 2 Nephi, I said my prayer, sat in my chair, and opened the book. All of a sudden there came into that room a beautiful, warm, loving Spirit that surrounded me and permeated my soul, enveloping me in a feeling of love that I had not imagined I could feel. I began to cry. As I looked through my tears at the words in the Book of Mormon, I could see truth in those words that I never imagined I could comprehend before. I could see the glories of eternity, and I could see what God had in store for me as one of His sons. That Spirit stayed with me the whole hour and every other evening as I prayed and read the Book of Mormon in my room. That same Spirit would always return, and it changed my heart and my life forever.
I look back at the conflict I had experienced, wondering whether I could afford to spend an hour every day apart from the study of applied econometrics to find out if the Book of Mormon was true. I use applied econometrics maybe once a year, but I use my knowledge that the Book of Mormon is the word of God many times every day of my life. Of all the education I have ever pursued, that is the single most useful piece of knowledge I ever gained.

I remember a story told by Jon Huntsman Sr. about a visit he made to President Howard W. Hunter one day. The story greatly impressed me.
Brother Huntsman decided to visit President Hunter and found him to be sick. President Hunter said that he was feeling terrible pain in his body, and he asked Brother Huntsman to give him a blessing. Brother Huntsman then asked President Hunter what he thought was causing his illness. President Hunter told him that he had had an unkind thought about another man and it made him physically sick all day.
When I first heard that story, I thought, “There is no hope for me!” However, whenever I am tempted to treat another unkindly, I try to remember President Hunter’s example of brotherly kindness.

One mother told the following experience that helps to explain this idea. She said, “Sometimes while we are eating, one of my children will get my attention and signal to me while his mouth is full of food. Grunting and waving, he will try to motion for me to do something for him. I know perfectly well that what he wants is for me to pour him a glass of milk, but I will wait until he uses words to ask me before I will do it. It’s not that I can’t understand what he wants but that I feel it is important for him to learn how to communicate well.”

During World War II, on my first Sunday as a Marine, I ran into a very special missionary companion of mine at a Church service. Both of us had volunteered for the Marine Corps! When we completed boot camp, we were both assigned to the Second Marine Division.
After the battle was over on the island to which our division was assigned, we were able to obtain a tent for Church services. We made benches, a pulpit, and a sacrament table out of any pieces of lumber we could find. Under the sacrament table we placed a special green footlocker. We carried that footlocker with us from island to island as our division completed its orders. The contents of the green footlocker represented all we held dear: a wooden plate, a wooden sacrament tray, a card containing the sacrament prayers, and several boxes of small paper cups.
As President David O. McKay has reminded us, partaking of the sacrament is a renewal of the covenants we made at the time of baptism, which are that “We are willing to take upon ourselves the name of the Son. In so doing we choose him as our leader and our ideal. … We will always remember him. Not just on Sunday, but on Monday [and the other days of the week]. … We promise to ‘… keep his commandments. …’—tithing, fast offerings, the Word of Wisdom, kindness, forgiveness, love.” (Gospel Ideals, page 146.)
As we gathered each week on the Lord’s day, we opened our footlocker and used the contents to prepare, bless, and pass the sacrament. It was a spiritual and uplifting experience that renewed our faith and gave us hope for the days ahead.
Eventually our tent chapel was filled with many holes caused by shrapnel tearing through it. When frequent tropical rains made it uncomfortable to sit in a tent with so many holes in it, we determined that our meetings deserved better quarters. We finally obtained enough material to construct a chapel. Now the green footlocker was placed beneath the table in a dedicated house of worship.
When our duties on the island were completed, we boarded a ship and moved out. Our footlocker remained in the chapel for others to use. I don’t know its final destination, but that old green footlocker will always have a special place in my heart because even in one of the most trying periods of my life, I was able to receive spiritual renewal for the days ahead as I partook of the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper.

Stonehenge—one of history’s mysteries. Every year millions of people travel to Salisbury Plain, England, to visit this ancient monument. What most people don’t know, however, is that, tucked away nearby in the remote village of Kingston Deverill, lives the Ralph family, whose history is as rich as Stonehenge and whose acts of charity are as monumental.
Meet Edwin, 17, Emmanuel, 16, Martha, 13, and Sophia, 8, descendants of King Alfred the Great. Their daily schedules are as busy as most young people their age, with school, church, and sports; but their household responsibilities are unusual. They, along with their parents and grandparents, live in Kingston House, where they care for five mentally challenged men. The five residents are between ages 33 and 71. They have multiple learning disabilities with their mental ages ranging from two to five years. They need constant supervision. With the extended Ralph family, each child plays an important role in the running of this unusual home where service and charity are taught and learned daily.
Early each morning, Sophia scrambles out of bed, wakes her father, then helps him make breakfast for the family of 11. Later on Martha washes up, Emmanuel vacuums, and Edwin supervises bathing sessions. As the Ralph children interact with their less able “brothers,” their love for these men radiates. “They bring a lot of laughter into our lives,” smiles Edwin, a priest in the Yeovil Branch, Bristol England Stake. “You learn to develop patience and a sense of humor.”
He relates a story of one man who came to their home after living in an institution for most of his life. “The first thing he did was to vacuum the toilet. He had learned to vacuum and did it very well. When he arrived, he asked us if he could use the vacuum cleaner, which we thought was great—until it went up in smoke.”
There’s never a dull moment at Kingston House. Caring for the men is a full-time job, which the family happily shares among them.
Emmanuel explains the feelings he has towards the men whom he sees as brothers. “I know they’re special people, and it’s my responsibility to help them. They have boys’ spirits in men’s bodies, and it is refreshing to be around them.”
Emmanuel dreams of being a professional cricket player one day. He shares this dream with the residents by playing cricket with them on a regular basis. In fact, all the Ralphs are cricket fans and will challenge anyone to a match in their backyard. The sport enables the disabled men and non-LDS friends and neighbors to come together. Once the game begins, barriers vanish, and the participants lose themselves in fun.
Martha, who plays for Dorset Girls Cricket Team, enjoys watching her friends overcome their fear of the patients. “At first they’re a bit scared,” she says. “We forget at times that they are mentally disabled until we see the reaction of other people to them. After a while they get to know the men and see them in a different light. We all have a great time.”
As a Beehive in Young Women, Martha realizes that the time she spends with the residents has helped her learn to view others less judgmentally. “Because of the experience I’ve had with our residents, I realize that other people need help too. It’s not good to hold prejudices. Christ never did.”
The gospel gives Edwin a clearer perspective. “It’s nice to know they are spirits just like me, and there is a purpose for their disability here. I want to help them live the best lives they can. It will be brilliant to see them in the Resurrection. I look forward to meeting them in the next life when their bodies are perfect.”
One of the residents, Roy, was 46 when Sophia was age two. Because Roy’s mental age was the same as Sophia’s, they became best friends. Brother Ralph describes how they played together and followed each other around. “Now Sophia is eight, and Roy looks up to her as his big sister. Mentally he’s still a two-year-old.” It’s touching to watch them walk hand in hand down the lane to the lambing fields. When it’s spring, Sophia takes Roy to see the newborn lambs, an outing they both cherish.
Brother Ralph serves on the high council of the Bristol Stake. He’s pleased with the spirit of charity the residents have brought into his home. “The children feel it’s quite natural for them to help the disabled men. Giving them attention and time is not a burden; it’s a benefit. There’s no question in my mind that we’ve been blessed.”
Where there are obstacles, there are also talents. The family believes that the men have been blessed with unique gifts despite their limitations. One has a great memory and always knows where everything is. Another is shy until he gets involved in sports, when he forgets himself and his skills come out. Yet another is an artist, even though he is partially blind and deaf. And another is a natural clown. He is a genius at remembering names and voices.
Another source of enjoyment for the Ralphs is missionary work. The Yeovil Branch which they attend is 28 miles away with an average attendance of 75 members. Eleven years ago, when Edwin and Emmanuel were six and five, they helped to convert their grandparents. “It was exciting to teach my parents,” says Brother Ralph. “The children are not afraid to share the gospel with others, and this has made the world of difference in our lives.”
The Ralphs’ missionary work also extends to family history. When they traced their family lines, they discovered they were descendants of King Alfred the Great. It also happens that the standing stones mentioned in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, King Alfred’s meeting place with his troops in 878 A.D. where he made plans to battle the Danes, are on the Ralphs’ land. These two five-foot stones form part of their family shield. The wooden coat of arms also displays the motto “Honor, Truth, and Excellence.” These qualities reflect in their lives as a family as they serve those in need.

One day after school, my best friend, Erica, and I were upstairs in my room, looking for something. I found a little folder filled with the “Extra Smiles” from older issues of the New Era. Erica didn’t know anything about our Church, so we spent time looking through the “Extra Smiles.” She enjoyed reading through them, and I had the privilege of talking with her about the gospel.
Mikayla S., California, USA

One of these experiences began a few years ago when I was assigned as a home teacher to a young man who had been raised in a faithful Latter-day Saint family. After he left home to attend school, he chose other paths. Month after month my home teaching companion and I visited him without success; it seemed he didn’t even hear what we said to him. But when the tempests came and he was confused, not knowing what to do to resolve his problems, it was his home teachers he sought out.
At the time I was his stake president. He told me he remembered something his mother had taught him: “The Lord hears the prayers of those who sincerely seek Him.” As he confided that he had returned to praying and reading the scriptures, I saw with joy that the Lord had touched him.
I decided to follow up with him more closely, so I asked that he be assigned as my home teaching companion. Each month he and I visited four homes, and each month I prepared four different messages in an effort to strengthen my friend and help him in his return to gospel activity. Eventually he made the decision to repent, to faithfully attend his meetings, and to sincerely partake of the sacrament. The Lord’s sacrifice was having an effect on his life.
Today the family remains active and totally integrated in the ward, and they have been sealed in the Lord’s temple. My companion continues to progress rapidly in the gospel. He married a wonderful young woman in the temple, and they now have two children. They are happy and contribute valuable service to our ward and to the Church.
Six people were converted to the gospel as a result of that experience. A collective miracle! I felt the joy described in the scriptures:
“And how great is his joy in the soul that repenteth!
“Wherefore, you are called to cry repentance unto this people.
“And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!
“And now, if your joy will be great with one soul that you have brought unto me into the kingdom of my Father, how great will be your joy if you should bring many souls unto me!” (D&C 18:13–16).

I have been upset for so long about how much “cooler” my friends are. I know they’re more in style than I am. But one day I was looking through some old Mormonads and I found “Be Your Own Kind of Beautiful” (July 1986). I thought for a moment then realized I don’t have to be like them to be beautiful or cool. I can be a neat person anyway, in my own special way.
Rebecca Terese WarthenSão Paulo, Brazil

I received my witness not from study but from the Spirit when I was standing by a fence in Fayette, New York, outside the Peter Whitmer farmhouse. That ground is sacred to me, much like the mount for Moses—“for the place where thou standest is holy ground” (Acts 7:33). The Church was established there in 1830, in the middle of nowhere, as the world gauges place. There I received from the Spirit of God the confirmation “that Joseph was and is a prophet of God.” I remember thinking at first, “I know that. Everybody knows that.”
Then the words came a second time: “Joseph Smith was and is a prophet of God. Someday you will need to know that.”
It was like the description in Jacob: “I had heard the voice of the Lord speaking unto me in very word . . . ; wherefore, I could not be shaken” (Jacob 7:5).
Someday is here for every one of us. The world needs our firm testimony of Joseph and the Restoration—right now.

Can you remember a moment when someone gave you a gift that changed your life? This October marks 40 years since I received one of the greatest gifts in my life. While I was in high school, I noticed that one of our classmates had a light that was different from most of the other young people. I enjoyed being around him. One day he told me he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Then he offered me a gift: a copy of the Book of Mormon. He invited me to read a few pages and meet with two friends who could answer my questions. Those friends were the missionaries.

When I met with the missionaries, they taught me the doctrine of Christ and invited me to follow the prophet Moroni’s invitation: “When ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost” (Moroni 10:4).

I read several pages of the Book of Mormon and prayed. Although I did not yet have a deep understanding of all the things that the missionaries were teaching me, I felt in my heart that what I was reading was good and came from God. I received the confirmation of Moroni’s promise: “And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things” (Moroni 10:5).

After I was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, some friends tried to convince me that I had made the wrong decision. But each time I faced such doubts or opposition, I received renewed confirmation through studying the scriptures and praying to stay true to the covenants I had entered into with God. Since then, the Book of Mormon has been my companion and has become an immeasurable treasure in my mortal journey.

I was the first member of my family to join the Church. As an eight-year-old, I waited to feel somehow different because of my baptism. To be honest, the only thing I felt when I was brought out of the water was … well, dripping wet. I thought something more profound would happen when I was confirmed. However, after receiving the Holy Ghost, again I felt happy but certainly no different than I had just a few minutes before.

It wasn’t until the following day at fast and testimony meeting that I experienced what I now recognize as the influence of the Holy Ghost. A brother stood to bear his testimony and tell about the blessings of his membership in the Church. I felt a flood of warmth sweep over me. Even as an eight-year-old, I recognized that this was something different. I felt a peace descend on me, and I had the distinct feeling that Heavenly Father was pleased with me.

Illustration by Mark Robison
Abby loved her house. But not the coat closet. She was afraid a monster would jump out of it. Abby always ran by it as fast as she could.
“Why do we even have a closet, Mommy?” Abby asked one day. “I don’t like being afraid.”
“Sometimes we’re afraid of what we can’t see,” Mommy said. “You can’t see what’s behind the door. Maybe that’s what scares you.”
“I always think there might be monsters,” Abby said.
“I promise there are no monsters. But you could say a prayer to Heavenly Father and ask Him to help you not feel scared,” Mommy said.
“OK,” Abby said.
The next day Abby was playing in her room. Mommy called her to come eat. Abby jumped up. Dinner smelled really good.
She started down the hall. Then she saw the coat closet waiting at the end.
Abby’s tummy felt tight. She thought about what might be hiding behind the closet door. She wanted to run. Then she thought about what Mommy had said. Abby stopped walking. She folded her arms.
“Please help me to not be so afraid,” Annie prayed.
Abby took two slow steps. She didn’t feel afraid any more! She felt warm and safe. She felt like she did when Mommy gave her a hug.
This time Abby didn’t run past the closet. She stopped right in front of it. She reached out. She touched the handle. Her tummy got tight for a few seconds, but then she remembered her happy feeling. She turned the knob and pulled the door open.
Abby laughed. “Hey! There aren’t any monsters in here. Just a bunch of coats.”
She folded her arms again. She bowed her head. “Heavenly Father, thank you for helping me not be afraid.”
Abby smiled and closed the closet door. She was hungry!

Steven J. Lund
After I taught sixth grade for three years, I learned that if I taught for four more years, the school district would pay part of my tuition to receive my master’s degree. It seemed like a good plan—until the Spirit prompted me to quit my job and go back and get my degree right then. My wife had a similar prompting, so we moved forward. It meant we would have to pay for school ourselves. But because we did, I was hired to teach at BYU—Provo. That window of opportunity never would have been open had we waited four more years. We did not know how things would work out, but the Lord directed our paths just as He promised.

Illustration by Brad Teare
It was past her bedtime, but Mia wasn’t in bed. She was sitting on the floor of her room, thinking about something Sister Duval had read in Primary: “The time will come when no man or woman will be able to stand on borrowed light.”1
“A testimony is like a light inside of us,” Sister Duval had explained. “And each of needs one of our own. Then we can be strong when life is hard and Satan tempts us.”
Mia leaned her head against her bed. “I want a testimony that the gospel is true,” she thought. But how exactly did you get a testimony? She knew that praying was part of it.
“I’ll pray,” she decided. She would pray and wouldn’t stop until something happened to let her know the Church was true. She was ready to pray all night if she had to!
She got on her knees. “Dear Heavenly Father,” she whispered, “I want to know if the Church is true. I want to feel it in my heart and just know.”
Mia waited. She didn’t feel anything except for the soft feeling she usually felt when she prayed. What was she doing wrong? Where was her testimony?
She had been on her knees for what seemed like a long time when the door to her room opened a little and her dad peeked in.
“I saw the light under the door,” he said. “Are you up reading again?” Then he saw tears on Mia’s cheeks. He knelt down and put his arm around her. “What’s wrong?”
She was quiet for a minute. Then she asked, “Daddy, how do you get a testimony?”
Daddy hugged her tight. “That’s a good question. Wanting a testimony is one of the first steps.”
Mia felt the lump in her throat start to go away.
“Getting a testimony doesn’t usually happen with one prayer. And even when you have a testimony, you need to keep working on it.”
“But where does a testimony come from?” Mia asked.
“A testimony comes from the Holy Ghost,” Daddy said. “Have you ever felt warm and good during family home evening or at church?”
Mia thought about that. “When you gave me a special blessing before school started, I felt good.” She thought some more. “And I always feel warm inside when I hear President Monson talk in general conference. And when I’m nice to my friends or when I’m reading my scriptures, I feel good then too.”
Daddy smiled. “Those feelings are the Holy Ghost speaking to you. He gives you those feelings when you do something that’s right or when you hear something that’s true.”
“I feel warm and happy now,” Mia said. “Is that the Holy Ghost?”
Daddy hugged her again. “Yes. He’s telling you that the things we’re talking about are true. And that’s how you get a testimony.”
When Mia went to bed later, she didn’t think she had a whole testimony yet, but she still had that good, warm feeling that what Daddy told her was true. She knew this feeling was just the beginning.
Mia snuggled into her warm blanket and closed her eyes. Just before she drifted off to sleep, she whispered, “Thank Thee, Heavenly Father, for helping me have a testimony. And thank Thee for my daddy.”