Gospel Story Finder

Darkness covered the city of Nauvoo, but there was a restlessness in the air. Here and there, windows were bright with lamp light. Chickens were stirring. Somewhere a dog howled.

Eleven-year-old Mary Ann raised up on her elbow in bed when she heard a horse gallop up to the door of their house.

“Sister Pratt!” called a voice. “Joseph and Hyrum are dead! Murdered by a mob at the Carthage jail!”

Mary Ann gasped. Barely breathing, she strained to listen as her mother went to the door and talked to the messenger in low, anxious tones. Suddenly she felt alone and frightened.

As her feet touched the wooden floor, she heard the door close and lock behind the messenger. All at once she was in her mother’s arms and both of them began to cry.

Mary Ann wished “Father” were there to tell them everything would be all right. Her real father had died suddenly when she was just a baby, but when Mother married Parley P. Pratt, Mary Ann had learned to love him and call him “Father.” Now he was away on a mission.

Mary Ann’s thoughts were interrupted when little Susan began to whimper. Her mother lifted the baby out of the cradle and rocked her. Even through her tears, Mama’s voice was sweet and clear, as if she were still singing with the choir.

“Do you think he knew it was coming, Mama?”

“Everyone was concerned for his safety. His life was constantly threatened.”

“I think he knew,” Mary Ann insisted. “Do you remember three weeks ago in the grove on Mulholland Street when the Prophet asked all the children to meet the next Sabbath for a Sunday School? Then he said, ‘I don’t know if I can be here. I will if I can, but Brother Stephen Goddard will be here to take charge.’ Don’t you think he knew, Mama?”

Mary Ann’s mother held her close, next to little Susan, who was sleeping peacefully on her mother’s lap. They both knew it was a question to which there was no answer. Together they watched the sun brighten the sky and smelled the perfume of roses and sweetbriar, brought in on the early morning breeze.

“I remember that, Mama.”

“Someday you can tell Susan all about it.”

“Oh, yes, I will!”

Mary Ann slid to the floor and knelt at her mother’s knees so she could look into the sleepy-eyed face of her little sister.

“I’ll tell her how I knew Joseph Smith was a Prophet of God the first time I saw him—and how I still know it! And some day, in heaven, Susan and I will be able to see the Prophet together.”

When Elder Vaughn J. Featherstone was visiting our area for a conference, my wife and I wanted our family to know something about him and his family. So we read a story to our children about Elder Featherstone’s son, who hurt his leg in an accident.
The boy had wanted to compete in an upcoming track meet, but he couldn’t run in any of the events because of his hurt leg. However, at the meet he found an event he could enter—the sit-up contest. As the contest began, Sister Featherstone was worried when she saw how many sit-ups her son was doing. But he wouldn’t give up. He did 1,001 sit-ups, winning the blue ribbon.

Her father chuckled. “He’d have to, to convince a constable sent to arrest him, and a hardhead like you. I’d like to hear him speak. My family and I will join you next Sunday.”
At noon on Sunday the Weston family began the long walk to the Benbow farm. Charity didn’t mind walking. She’d waited all week for this. Maybe something exciting would happen!
The meeting hall was almost filled when they arrived. She sat high on her father’s knee so that she could see over the heads of the people.
Suddenly a wave of whispering rolled through the people. Charity turned and saw two men dressed in dark suits sit down behind them.
Charity heard Father whisper to Mother, “Those are the rector’s clerks. He must have sent them to find out what is so all-fired appealing about this new preacher. I hope that they won’t cause any trouble. I have my heart set on hearing a good old-fashioned sermon.”
The audience quieted as Mr. Woodruff stood to speak. In a short time another wave flowed over the audience. This time it was the power of the Holy Ghost. Everyone sitting there could feel the truth of Mr. Woodruff’s words. They knew that he’d been sent to teach them about the Savior.
Tears rolled unchecked down her mother’s cheeks, and her father’s arm tightened around Charity as he grew more absorbed in the sermon.
When Mr. Woodruff finished speaking, he invited everyone to join the true church. Her father and mother stood up, ready to join those seeking to be baptized. Before they could move, the two clerks shouldered their way toward the pulpit.
The crowd parted as the two black-garbed men made their way to the front. Their faces were solemn, and Charity began to shiver. What would they do?
Mr. Woodruff greeted them pleasantly and waited for them to speak. With heads high, they humbly asked to join Christ’s church.
Another wave of noise filled the hall. Everyone wanted to talk about the clerks, the constable, Elder Woodruff—and their own baptisms! This was unheard of! It was an exciting time.
Father’s chuckle soothed her like the sound of water flowing over smooth rocks. “That does it for the rector,” he said and chuckled again. “He’s lost a constable and two clerks. I don’t think he’ll dare send anyone else to hear this preacher. Any good man will recognize the truth of his words. Any good person would feel the Spirit. I believe him. I’m going to be baptized into Christ’s church by someone with the authority to do so.”
Charity held onto his hand as he cleared a path to the front for his family. She felt a feeling of peace and security, and she knew that her father and mother would guide her along the right path until she, too, was old enough to be baptized.

When a big storm called Hurricane Harvey hit Houston, Texas, USA, many people’s homes were flooded or destroyed. President M. Russell Ballard flew there to help!
As soon as his plane landed, he went straight to the command center where the Church collected supplies and sent out Mormon Helping Hands volunteers.
Then he visited neighborhoods where many homes were flooded. Some of the streets were blocked, so he walked from house to house. He listened to people and shared Heavenly Father’s love with them.
He met missionaries and other Church members who were helping.
He spoke in a devotional and three sacrament meetings so he could share Heavenly Father’s love with lots of people!
When he met an elderly man whose home was damaged, President Ballard said:
I’m one of the Apostles of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. … We want you to know we love you. And we’re here because Jesus Christ would want us to be here.

In the conspiracy to take his life in which the Laws were involved, two young men had been invited to the secret meetings – Dennison L. Harris and Robert Scott. They consulted with the Prophet. He asked them to go and observe.

At the risk of their lives they attended these meetings and reported back what they had heard. Prior to the last meeting they reported their expectation that at that meeting everyone present would be asked to come forward and take an oath to be willing to take the life of Joseph Smith. The Prophet wept.

Now he knew by natural means as well as by his presentiments what was happening. The young men heroically attended the meeting as he suggested, and narrowly escaped with their lives when they were put under pressure to take the oath.

Seven-year-old Craig Parker of Spanish Fork, Utah, gained a testimony of the role of prayer in the repentance process. One day while he was playing, he said a word that he knew was wrong. He felt very bad afterward. “In our home and at church I have learned about Jesus, and I know that He would not want me to say that word.”
Craig decided to kneel and pray for forgiveness. “I folded my arms and told Heavenly Father I was sorry for saying that word. I felt better after praying. I knew that Heavenly Father forgave me, and I have never said that word again.”

One of my favorite activities as a priesthood leader is visiting members of the Church in their homes. I especially enjoy calling upon and talking with members who commonly are described as “less active.”
During the years I served as a stake president, I often would contact one of the bishops and invite him to prayerfully identify individuals or families we could visit together. Before traveling to a home, the bishop and I would kneel and petition our Heavenly Father for guidance and inspiration, for us and for the members with whom we would meet.
Our visits were quite straightforward. We expressed love and appreciation for the opportunity to be in their home. We affirmed that we were servants of the Lord on His errand to their home. We indicated that we missed and needed them—and that they needed the blessings of the restored gospel. And at some point early in our conversation I often would ask a question like this: “Will you please help us understand why you are not actively participating in the blessings and programs of the Church?”
I made hundreds and hundreds of such visits. Each individual, each family, each home, and each answer was different. Over the years, however, I detected a common theme in many of the answers to my questions. Frequently responses like these were given:
“Several years ago a man said something in Sunday School that offended me, and I have not been back since.”
“No one in this branch greeted or reached out to me. I felt like an outsider. I was hurt by the unfriendliness of this branch.”
“I did not agree with the counsel the bishop gave me. I will not step foot in that building again as long as he is serving in that position.”
Many other causes of offense were cited—from doctrinal differences among adults to taunting, teasing, and excluding by youth. But the recurring theme was: “I was offended by …”
The bishop and I would listen intently and sincerely. One of us might next ask about their conversion to and testimony of the restored gospel. As we talked, eyes often were moist with tears as these good people recalled the confirming witness of the Holy Ghost and described their prior spiritual experiences. Most of the “less-active” people I have ever visited had a discernible and tender testimony of the truthfulness of the restored gospel. However, they were not presently participating in Church activities and meetings.
And then I would say something like this. “Let me make sure I understand what has happened to you. Because someone at church offended you, you have not been blessed by the ordinance of the sacrament. You have withdrawn yourself from the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost. Because someone at church offended you, you have cut yourself off from priesthood ordinances and the holy temple. You have discontinued your opportunity to serve others and to learn and grow. And you are leaving barriers that will impede the spiritual progress of your children, your children’s children, and the generations that will follow.” Many times people would think for a moment and then respond: “I have never thought about it that way.”
The bishop and I would then extend an invitation: “Dear friend, we are here today to counsel you that the time to stop being offended is now. Not only do we need you, but you need the blessings of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. Please come back—now.”

After I had children of my own, I realized how much the Savior loves children. I was tucking my son, Tom, into bed one night. I gave him a hug, and he said, “Dad, do you think that when Jesus comes again, I will be a little boy?”
I said, “Well, we don’t know when He’s going to come, so I don’t know if you will or not. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve been thinking about the stories I’ve heard in Primary about how when Jesus was on the earth, He really liked children. He invited the children to come, and He held them. I think I would like that, so I hope I’ll still be a little boy when He comes.”
I gave Tom a hug and said, “I’m really glad that you feel that way about Jesus, Tom, because that’s how I feel about Him, too. And I hope that you don’t have to be a little child for Him to hold you, because I would like that, too.”

Throughout his youth and even from the mission field, Elder Bednar would ask his father, “Dad, when are you going to be baptized?” The answer was, “I’ll join this Church when I know it’s the right thing to do.” Years later, after Elder Bednar’s mission and after he was married and living far away from home, his father called on a Wednesday to ask, “What are you doing Saturday? Can you be out here (in California) to baptize me?” Elder Bednar baptized, confirmed, and ordained his father. He says of that phone call and the question from his father: “I honestly believe that’s why I was born. Not to teach him, but to assist him in learning about the restored gospel.”

“Are you going to paint this Saturday?” has been the familiar question among many college youth in Las Vegas, where they have painted the inside and outside of a church built by the Afro-Methodist Episcopal Church whose members were having trouble getting the building finished. The congregation lacked funds. The Student Association of Las Vegas Region pitched in and raised $4,000, in addition to painting the building. Under the direction of priesthood leader James Seastrand, president of the Las Vegas North Stake, and Reverend Charles Wyatt, the project got under way. It was a great time of togetherness, with the Relief Society and the ladies of the Afro-Methodist congregation providing lunch each workday. Funds were raised through dances, bake sales, car washes, and concerts. “The unity among the students and with people of another race was something wonderful to behold,” said Shauna Rollins, vice-chairman of one M Men-Gleaner Council in the area.

His grandfather Tom, who lived just up the street and owned a number of properties on the block, was a favorite companion of his. He was named after his grandfather. Grandpa Tom, a man of few words, was a sheepherder and delighted young Tommy with stories of living on the range, riding his horse, and caring for his sheep. Little did Tommy know that he, too, would care for sheep in his adult years. Just not on horseback.
One day Tommy and grandpa were sitting on the front porch swing. Down the road came one of their neighbors, an elderly Englishman named Bob. He walked with shoulders slumped and a sorrowful cast on his face. Tom Condie called out, “Bob, how are you today.”
Bob just shook his head.
Tom continued, “Come up and sit with us a spell.”
Bob joined Tom and Tommy on the swing and after a few minutes, Grandpa Tom said, “So Bob, how are you doing.”
Bob just shrugged at first and then said, “I’ve been thrown out of my place; they’re tearing it down and I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t have much. I don’t have any family and I don’t know what I am going to do.”
The three kept swinging. Grandpa Tom. Tommy and Bob.
Finally Grandpa Tom reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out a little leather change purse with a snap. He opened it and reached in and pulled out a key. “See this key,” he said to Bob? It’s to that house next door. I own it. I want you to take the key and move your things in there.”
Bob protested. “I can’t afford it.”
Tom said, a bit sharply, “I didn’t ask you to pay for it. It’s yours as long as you want to live there. All I ask is that you just be my good neighbor.”
President Monson will tell you, “That lesson was not lost on me.”

Elder Walker was on assignment in Tonga when he met a couple whose lives exemplified faith and devotion. This couple was known for their unwavering obedience to the Lord, consistently prioritizing His work, even at the expense of their own health and personal needs.

As he got to know them, Elder Walker learned that the husband suffered from a heart condition that required surgery, an operation that would cost $24,000 and needed to be performed in Australia. The couple could not afford the procedure or the travel expenses, but thankfully, a family member in Australia offered financial help.

Soon after arriving in Australia for the surgery, however, the man felt a strong prompting to return home, even before the operation. Trusting this spiritual impression, he returned to Tonga, where he was soon called as the stake president. His sense of duty replaced any consideration for his own wellbeing, and he postponed addressing his health concerns to focus on serving the members of his stake.

Elder Walker counselled with the couple, urging them to prioritize the husband’s health so that the Lord could continue to bless him and use him to care for his family and his stake. Shortly after, the man was able to receive financial assistance and returned to Australia for health tests and medical advice.

Following some of these tests, Elder Walker received an intriguing message from a family member in Australia. The family member reported that during one scan, the technician noticed something unusual—something resembling a metal stent appeared exactly where the pain originated. When asked if the husband had undergone any surgery before, the family member assured the technician that he had not.

This unexpected finding was a sign of divine intervention, a miracle that allowed the husband to continue his service without needing the costly operation.

This experience left a lasting impression on Elder Walker, strengthening his testimony of the miracles that occur when we exercise faith and obey the promptings of the Holy Ghost. The humble couple’s willingness to sacrifice and trust in the Lord exemplifies the truth in 2 Nephi 27:23: "For behold, I am God; and I am a God of miracles; and I will show unto the world that I am the same yesterday, today, and forever; and I work not among the children of men save it be according to their faith."

August 10
Dear Sarah,
Nothing has been worse so far than picking beans. Mr. Trujillo can’t bend over now, so I picked all the beans, my rows and his. Your back aches, and the leaves make your skin itch, and the sun is beating down on you. Mrs. Trujillo gave me an old straw hat to wear. We got three bushels! Mr. Trujillo smiled and said, “There’ll be this many again in about ten days.” I could have cried. But by then it was cooler, and Mrs. Trujillo brought out ice cream with fresh peaches sliced on it. Then you’ll never guess what happened—Mr, and Mrs. Trujillo took me into their garage and gave me one of their kids’ old bicycles. It was all clean and shiny, with new paint and new tires and the chain all oiled. I gave them both a hug.
I took a big, juicy peach home to Lindsay, and she ate it all!
Have you found any new people to teach?
Love,Angela the Cyclist

He was always tall. “By the time I was 13, I was already 182 cm (six feet). But my real growth spurt didn’t begin until my sophomore year in high school.” He reached his full height by his senior year, and, as with most tall kids, it was assumed he would play basketball. That was not to be.
““I never really liked basketball,” he noted. “The other kids and the coaches always kind of made fun of me, telling me I couldn’t jump.”
His mother urged him, instead, to try a local recreation league volleyball team. “I had never had so much fun in any sport before,” Chambers says. “I was hooked! Even though I wasn’t very good, I went home and told Mom that volleyball was the sport for me!”
Great club coaching helped him find his footing in the game, and because of his prodigious height, they made him a middle blocker. Finally, the burden of being tall began to pay-off. After a season of club volleyball, he was anxious to join his high school team and test his new skills. But disaster struck in his very first scrimmage.
““I jumped and extended myself to try and block a ball, and when I came down, I landed on the foot of the guy on the other side of the net and broke my ankle,” Chambers recounted. “I had to wear a boot everywhere after that and I didn’t get to play at all my freshman season.”
““It was frustrating to have made progress in this new sport I really liked, then lose that whole season.”
But from the ashes of that setback rose the phoenix of an all-star career. Over the next three years, Chambers became a feared opponent on the court, drawing the attention of college volleyball teams throughout the US. He turned down scholarships offered by top schools—Stanford and UCLA among them—in favour of what he truly wanted: to play for the nationally-ranked Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah (USA).
Chambers’ youth career culminated in the summer of 2022, with the victory of his Orange Coast Volleyball Club at the under-18 national club volleyball championship. Chambers was named first-team all-American by the American Volleyball Coaches Association. The kid who couldn’t jump had proven all of those early naysayers wrong.

One such family with four young children writes: “We decided to start small because of our children’s short attention spans. Our oldest child was not yet reading, but she could repeat our words, so we began reading the Book of Mormon, just three verses each night. My husband and I would read one verse each, and then Sydney would repeat a verse. We progressed to four verses and then five verses as the boys began to repeat their own verses. Yes, it was tedious, but we kept going. We tried to focus on consistency instead of speed. It took us three-and-a-half years to finish the Book of Mormon. It was a great feeling of accomplishment!”
The mother continues: “Daily family scripture reading is a habit in our family now. Our children are comfortable with scriptural language, and my husband and I take opportunity to bear testimony of truths. Most important, the Spirit has increased in our home.”

The Lord tells us in Doctrine and Covenants 100:6 that “it shall be given you in the very hour, yea, in the very moment, what ye shall say.” [D&C 100:6] But I didn’t really believe him. That is, until I met Michelle.
Michelle and I worked together in a restaurant one summer. We were hired the same day, so we became acquainted at new-employee orientation. As time passed and we struggled through each day together—refilling glasses, clearing tables, and spilling on restaurant guests—we became good friends.
One day Michelle startled me by asking, “Marissa, are you a Mormon?”
I nodded my head sheepishly, not wanting to attract too much attention. I was content in being a quiet member missionary. If others were taught by my example that was fine, but I didn’t want to be known as the restaurant preacher.
“I thought so,” she continued. “All of the most sincere, kind people I’ve ever met are Mormon.”
I smiled at the indirect compliment, unsure of how I should respond. Luckily, the lunch-hour rush hit, and we were quickly put back to work.
As I left work that day, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Michelle had said. It had been a nice thing to say about Church members, but it was more than that—I felt as if she needed to hear the gospel. And this feeling frightened me.
That night the ward missionaries came to our house for dinner, and I told them about Michelle. I thought they would respond by commending me for being such a stalwart example, that they would tell me to keep up the good work. But instead they gave me a Book of Mormon to give to her. As I told the missionaries good-bye that night, I looked down at the book I was holding and wondered what I had gotten myself into.
After the missionaries left, I took the Book of Mormon downstairs to mark some key verses I had been studying in seminary. I then placed the book in my bag with my work clothes and vowed to bring it with me to work every day. I also promised myself that I would pray for the Lord’s help in giving me the opportunity to share the gospel with Michelle.
For the next few days, it seemed as if Michelle and I were scheduled to work different shifts. Instead of serving the same tables and having the same lunch hour as we usually did, I rarely saw her.
But I continued to pray and I kept the Book of Mormon in my bag. After about a week of not seeing each other, we finally had the same lunch hour. It was a little later than most of the other employees stayed, so Michelle and I were alone in the lunch room. We were talking and laughing as we usually did, but then she became quiet.
“Can I ask you something?” she said.
Suddenly every off-the-wall question people usually ask about the Church came whizzing through my head.
“Sure,” I said, praying that I would be able to answer her question.
“What’s a Book of Mormon?”
I couldn’t believe what she was asking. It was the exact question I had been praying for.
“It’s another testament of Jesus Christ written by prophets in the Americas,” I said, as my knees rattled against the table.
I then briefly explained Lehi’s journey from Jerusalem, Mormon’s compilation of the records, and finally, Joseph Smith’s experience in the Sacred Grove.
Michelle seemed interested in what I was saying, but she had a confused, pensive look on her face.
“I don’t know if this will make sense,” she began, “but I feel like I’m looking for something in my life right now. It’s like I’m walking around a pool of religions, dipping my foot in to test the waters of each one to see where I belong.”
It seemed as if time stopped; it was all too perfect. My thoughts raced. This can’t be happening, I thought. Things this perfect don’t happen in real life, only in Church videos. I wasn’t sure how I should respond, so I silently pleaded with the Lord to tell me what to say.
“You remind me of Joseph Smith,” I said. “He didn’t know which church to join either. Then he prayed and was told that none of the churches was true. Later on he received instructions from God about how to restore and organize the true Church of Jesus Christ on the earth. He also received the Book of Mormon, which contains the fulness of Christ’s gospel.”
As we walked to the elevator, I took out the Book of Mormon I had brought for her.
“After we talked the other day, I thought I should bring this for you,” I explained. “I marked some verses for you to read. Now you can see for yourself what the Book of Mormon is.”
She happily accepted it, and we said good-bye.
“Great,” I said to myself, relieved that all had gone well and that I had done my duty as a member missionary. “Mission accomplished.”
That night, whenever the phone rang, I expected it to be Michelle calling to say she wanted to join the Church. After all, the Lord had made everything else so easy. As far as I could tell, Michelle was as good as baptized.
But that’s not exactly what happened. In fact, I don’t know if she’ll ever join the Church. She quit her job a few weeks later, and then I went back to BYU.
For the longest time I thought my first attempt at missionary work had been a failure. I even questioned why the Lord would go through so much trouble, answer my prayers, and then let things turn out the way they did. But then I realized that there had already been one person converted during this “useless” attempt at proselyting—me.
It was because of my missionary efforts that I gained a testimony of prayer. I knew that my experience with Michelle in the lunchroom was not a coincidence; the Lord had prompted her to ask me about the Book of Mormon.
I also learned that the Lord does what he says he will do. He told me that he would fill my mouth with words; he told Michelle that she would be given the agency to make her own choices. And in the end, both promises were kept.

This project led me to search for other rescue stories. The press at that time carried an account of the rescue of a woman who had been swept downstream by a strong river current. Three teenagers riding their bicycles on a path near the river spotted the woman. While one of them went for help, the other two tried to catch up with the woman, who was helpless in the river. After about a mile they waded into the river and pulled the exhausted woman onto the bank. It was only then that one of the boys discovered that he had saved his own mother’s life. This story should remind us that we never know who might need help.

I think when people look at missions, they often see service missions as a “lesser” mission compared to a teaching mission. I’ll admit that when I was applying for my mission, I had some of these feelings. My priesthood leaders, the Missionary Department, and I worked on my application for over six months. I wanted to serve a teaching mission. I felt that I needed to.
Eventually, I met with my stake president, and I learned I was called to a service mission. My path was headed in a different direction than I originally anticipated, but surprisingly, I felt peace. I knew it was right.
Since starting my mission, I’ve been able to keep people company while they sit alone in cancer infusion rooms and serve in the temple as an ordinance worker. I’ve also had the opportunity to write articles for YA Weekly, using my love for writing to help bring light and hope to others.
I believe that I may have been able to go on a full-time teaching mission. However, I know that when I received my assignment to serve as a service missionary, it was much less about my mental health and far more about where the Lord needed me the most. I think I would have missed the deeply personal experiences that I’ve had on my service mission.

Just about four months ago a missionary was released from one of our Australia-New Zealand missions and in the following report talks about the Lord’s interest payments or dividends received following an investment of two years in His service. The missionary writes:

“First and foremost, I learned the importance and power of prayer—I learned to communicate with the Lord, and how to recognize His answers—even when He says no. I learned about having implicit faith and trust in the Lord, something I never had before. I learned to heed the promptings of the Holy Ghost. I also developed the gift of discernment. I had this to a degree before, but in the mission field I learned how to use it properly. Most important of all, I learned about myself, what I could really do.

“I found an ability to communicate with other people,” he continues, “and that has been a major milestone in my life. Since finishing my mission, I can walk across campus with my head held high, and look others in the eye. I am now at ease with people; I can face situations. I am not afraid to speak my piece—and I can do it appropriately. I find myself much more organized and tidy—Mom can’t believe it’s me! I can work harder and accomplish more. I have always cared for others, but now I know how to show my concern. I don’t fall apart as easily as I used to; so you could say without question, I have changed significantly, thanks to my mission.”

Now listen to this part: “As I awaited my hour of release, I received a witness that the Lord was pleased with my effort. It was thrilling when I talked to the mission president, especially when he looked me in the eye and said, ‘I am proud of you.’ That was reward enough for me. What a great feeling to look back and know that I gave the Lord the best that was in me! It brings a satisfaction and a peace that can come in no other way.”

Here’s another choice bit: “I was very nervous about my homecoming talk in sacrament meeting. I wanted to say the right things. Since that special Sunday evening, my bishop writes me down here at the “Y” [Brigham Young University] and tells me that there are three young people in the ward beginning to plan for missions as a direct result of my talk!”

And finally: “Not once have I ever regretted accepting the call to go on a mission. It is the most worthwhile thing I ever did. I am even thankful for the hard times, for they strengthened my character and helped me to at least begin to be the person my Heavenly Father would have me be. I learned so much more than I could have learned if I had stayed home. The Church is true without a doubt, and I am so thankful just to be a member. I am so thankful for the relationship which I have developed with the Savior, for it is an outgrowth of my mission and nothing else.”

When I was in the first grade, one of my classmates kept asking if she could copy off of my paper. I said, “Stop trying to copy off my paper. I am trying to work.” Later that day, I told my mom what happened. I said, “She was trying to cheat, and that is the same as lying.” During the school year, I tried to help my classmate with her work because I knew she wouldn’t learn anything by cheating. It made me feel good knowing I had done the right thing.