Gospel Story Finder

I’m aware of a man who was involved in moral transgressions several years ago. For some time, this man felt too ashamed and too worried to approach his wife and his priesthood leaders. He wanted to fully repent but actually expressed that he was willing to give up his own eternal salvation rather than put his spouse and children through the sorrow, shame, or other consequences that might be caused by his confession.

Finally, this dear man confessed to his faithful wife and his Church leaders, expressing deep remorse. Though it was the most difficult thing he had ever done, feelings of relief, peace, gratitude, love for our Savior, and a knowledge that the Lord was lifting his heavy burden and carrying him caused joy beyond expression, regardless of the outcome and his future.

He had been certain that his wife and children would be devastated—and they were; and that there would be disciplinary action and a release from his calling—and there was. He was certain that his wife would be brokenhearted, hurt, and angry—and she was. And he was convinced that she would leave, taking the children with her—but she didn’t.

Sometimes serious transgression leads to divorce, and depending on circumstances, that might be necessary. But to this man’s amazement, his wife embraced him and dedicated herself to helping him in any way that she could. Over time, she was able to fully forgive him. She had felt the healing power of the Savior’s Atonement for her. Years later, this couple and their three children are strong and faithful. The husband and wife serve in the temple and have a wonderful, loving marriage. The depth of this man’s testimony and his love and gratitude for the Savior are so evident in his life.

There may be a time when a person would have doubts concerning the ability or qualification of someone being called to a position in the Church. One brother in my acquaintance once learned a great lesson in this regard. Years ago, as a ward teacher supervisor, he had a problem motivating a particular ward teacher to perform his duties. The supervisor found it necessary to do this man’s ward teaching for six consecutive months. One night in a sacrament meeting, my friend was called upon to sustain this man to be a member of the bishopric. He struggled within himself to know whether he should sustain a man who had not performed his duties as a ward teacher and whom he felt did not have the qualities necessary to be a good member of the bishopric. Reluctantly, he finally voted in the affirmative. In the ensuing months the slothful ward teacher took hold of his position in the bishopric and moved the work of the Lord forward. He served successfully as a member of the bishopric and later as a bishop, a high councilor, and eventually as a counselor in a stake presidency.

It was kind of a ritual. Win or lose, after a football game we’d all pile into my old green car and head for our favorite pizza restaurant. The place was always crowded, especially after a victory. That night, everybody was there after we defeated our rival school team.
By the time the football team arrived, the room was crowded with people. I managed to find a seat in the corner and started looking for Dave, my older brother.
Dave always seemed to be in the center of the action. His easy-going personality made people want to be around him. In the short time we had lived in Colorado, he’d been elected student-body president of our high school.
I wasn’t as popular as Dave in high school, but he often let me tag along with him and his friends—especially when I grew to be bigger than he was. It made me proud to be called “Dave’s big little brother.” As the crowd grew at the restaurant, I finally spotted Dave at a table near the center of the room. Suddenly, somebody yelled, “Hey, everybody, it’s Dave’s eighteenth birthday. He’s a man now.”
“Yeah, now he’s legal,” someone else added. At the time, the law in Colorado stated that if you were eighteen, you could legally buy and drink beer. For the handful of Mormons in our school, turning eighteen was just another birthday. For most of our classmates, though, becoming “legal” was a big event.
Slowly, people began to crowd around Dave’s table, and soon everybody was joining in a rowdy chorus of “Happy Birthday to You.”
“Close your eyes, Dave,” somebody yelled out. A path was cleared as a huge glass of foamy, golden beer was brought forward and thrust into Dave’s hands. The whole place erupted into wild cheers. From off in the corner, I watched Dave and wondered what he would do. He had always been my example. He’d always been faithful. Of course, he’d never faced a situation like this before. I watched him look around the room at the crowd surrounding him. I don’t think he saw me watching him back in the corner.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Dave rose to his feet. He picked up the glass of beer and raised it slowly in the air. My heart was pounding with anticipation, and I imagined Dave’s was, too. Somebody yelled for quiet, and the place grew silent.
“I just want to thank everyone for thinking of me on my birthday,” Dave said, as he looked toward his raised glass. “But come on, you guys. You know me better than that. Thanks, anyway.” As Dave lowered the glass and sat down, a moan rumbled through the crowd. Somebody muttered something about Mormons not having any fun.
Later, I located Dave and we walked out into the crisp autumn air toward my car. “Dave, I was worried for a minute that you might crack under the pressure and do something stupid,” I said.
He just shrugged and said, “There wasn’t any big pressure because I didn’t have to make any decisions tonight. I’d already decided a long time ago that I was going to keep the Word of Wisdom. It’s a lot easier that way.”
I just smiled. As we drove home, I was as proud as ever to be Dave’s big little brother.

“Do you have a rope?” the man in the boat called out. The man’s family had been fishing when their boat motor stopped. They had no way of getting to shore. Weldon’s dad steered his boat closer. Weldon’s brothers got a long rope and threw one end to the man. When the rope was securely tied to both boats, Weldon’s dad slowly towed the man’s family and their boat to shore.
Looking at the rope, Weldon asked his mom, “Is our rope strong enough to pull the boat?”
“Look closely at the rope,” Mom replied. Weldon could see the rope was made of lots of individual strands twisted together. “When all the strands work together, the rope is strong—just like our family,” Mom said.
Weldon asked, “What do we do to make our family strong?” Mom said he was strengthening their family each time he answered, “I will,” and happily did his assigned jobs or was kind to his brothers and sister.

One day when I was quite young, I became unhappy with my mother and father and told them that I was going to run away. My wise parents helped me put together a little pack—a handkerchief with some clothes in it—and let me go. I walked down from the hill a little way from the house, feeling very brave. But the farther I got, the slower I walked. We lived out in the country, and it started to get dark and I started to get hungry. I decided home was pretty good. I turned around and went back home.
I’ve always admired my parents for allowing me to learn that lesson by myself. When my mother tells the story, she describes watching me go and crying. But she wanted to let me have that experience. When I got home, there was no punishment, just a loving welcome. I never needed to try that again, and I gained a greater appreciation for my parents and home.

Last summer I saw an interesting picture as I followed a car on the freeway. It was a large station wagon that had obviously endured many road skirmishes. The top rack was loaded with luggage; the seats were loaded with people. Four bare feet hung out the rear window, and elbows and arms hung out the side windows. In the front seat, the mother was wrestling with a feisty child while simultaneously trying to calm an upset infant. The father was desperately trying to negotiate the heavy traffic. It was obviously vacation time for this family. As I surveyed the situation with some degree of empathy, I noticed a bumper sticker which read, “Are we having fun yet?”
I laugh about this scene whenever I recall it. I believe it is amusing because it exhibits a wry insight into human nature. It reveals a very real aspect of the human condition: the largely unfulfilled pursuit of happiness. The implications of the question “Are we having fun yet?” are profound. How many people in this world pursue happiness but find that it eludes them? They contrive pleasures, invent amusements, and invest heavily in recreation. They go abroad in search of this rare gift but fail to see that evidence of it is all around them; the source is within them.
As I have occasion to be with wonderful people throughout the world, I am often moved by the many individuals I meet who are looking for happiness, but not quite finding it. They yearn and strive and endure, but seem to be asking, “Am I happy yet?” I desire to assure you that happiness is real. It can be experienced here, and we can know a fulness of joy in the hereafter. May I share with you some insights about the kind of happiness promised by the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Lehi’s words to his son Jacob include a profound truth: “All things have been done in the wisdom of him who knoweth all things.
“Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy.” (2 Ne. 2:24–25.)
Our wise and loving Father in Heaven is concerned for the welfare of his children. He desires to see us happy. The very purpose of our lives can be defined in terms of happiness. The Prophet Joseph Smith said, “Happiness is the object and design of our existence; and will be the end thereof, if we pursue the path that leads to it.” (History of the Church, 5:134.)
Our yearnings for happiness were implanted in our hearts by Deity. They represent a kind of homesickness, for we have a residual memory of our premortal existence. They are also a foretaste of the fulness of joy that is promised to the faithful. We can expect with perfect faith that our Father will fulfill our innermost longings for joy. In fact, the plan he has given to guide us is called “the plan of happiness.” (Alma 42:16.) In the meridian of time, it was heralded by angelic messengers as “good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.” (Luke 2:10.)
The Book of Mormon makes it clear that happiness is our destiny. It speaks of dwelling “with God in a state of never-ending happiness.” (Mosiah 2:41.) It is also made clear that “all things shall be restored to their proper order, every thing to its natural frame, … raised to endless happiness to inherit the kingdom of God, or to endless misery to inherit the kingdom of the devil.” We also learn that we are “raised to happiness according to [our] desires of happiness.” (Alma 41:4–5.)
Words such as reap, restored, and desire imply that happiness is a consequence, not a reward. We are restored to a state of happiness when we have chosen to live according to the plan of happiness. Our joy in God’s kingdom will be a natural extension of the happiness we cultivate in this life.
Our happiness is diminished by at least two things: sin and adversity. Of the two, sin is the most tragic. Sin is the most persistent cause of human suffering and of the two brings the deepest remorse. Sin and the temptation to do evil are part of our mortal test. We are being tried to see if we will choose good or evil. It is a hard test, and only those who have resisted temptation can know and gain the strength thereof. Sin is sin because it destroys instead of saves; it tears down instead of builds, it causes despair instead of hope.
The Book of Mormon speaks of men that are in a “carnal state … and in the bonds of iniquity; they are without God in the world, and they have gone contrary to the nature of God; therefore, they are in a state contrary to the nature of happiness.” (Alma 41:11.) It also records Samuel the Lamanite’s warning to the Nephites: “Ye have sought all the days of your lives for that which ye could not obtain; and ye have sought for happiness in doing iniquity, which thing is contrary to the nature of that righteousness which is in our great and Eternal Head.” (Hel. 13:38.)
The doctrine is concisely summarized by Alma: “Behold, I say unto you, wickedness never was happiness.” (Alma 41:10; italics added.) If we are not pure, we would be miserable in the presence of God and Christ, who are by their very nature happy and joyful and cannot look upon sin with any allowance.
The suffering that results from sin is most tragic because through our own choices we can choose to avoid it. We have that power. We also have the capacity to repent of our sins and to experience the sweet joy of forgiveness. If we are unhappy, let us examine ourselves to see where we need to repent. If we have questions about what we need to do, or not do, we need only listen to our conscience and follow the promptings of the Spirit.
I am acquainted with a man who rebelled from the Church when he was a youth. He made some mistakes during this time and developed some habits. Eventually, however, he came to himself; he served a mission and returned home to hold many responsible positions in the Church. But he was never quite happy. He could have said as did Nephi:
“I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me.
“And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins.” (2 Ne. 4:18–19.)
Finally, in a night of spiritual turmoil, the man confessed to himself that he had never fully forsaken his sins. Although he had not committed sins worthy of Church court action, he still harbored attitudes and thoughts that robbed him of spirituality, and he went through cycles of guilt and despair that dampened his happiness. He made up his mind to change, and he kept his resolve. He broke the chain of sin and despair and, for the first time in memory, began to experience a real, true happiness. If someone had asked him, “Are we having fun, experiencing happiness, yet?” he could have answered, “Yes, more happiness, or joy, than I could have imagined.”
Striving for happiness is a long, hard journey with many challenges. It requires eternal vigilance to win the victory. You cannot succeed with sporadic little flashes of effort. Constant and valiant living is necessary. That is why patience and faith are so often associated in the scriptures. You must “withstand every temptation of the devil, with [your] faith on the Lord Jesus Christ.” (Alma 37:33.) But remember, faith is not a magical formula. It requires that you make a deliberate decision to do good and then carry out your decision. Do it. Simply do it, and do it long enough that you experience success, no matter how hard it may seem. Your victory over self brings communion with God and results in happiness—lasting and eternal happiness.
The other thing that may diminish our happiness is adversity. Adversity is also part of our mortal probation, experienced by everyone. It is different, however, from sin. While we can choose to avoid sin, we usually cannot choose whether we experience adversity. I am convinced if we are to have happiness in our hearts, we must learn how to preserve it, in our hearts, in the midst of trouble and trial. We can control our attitude toward adversity. Some people are defeated and embittered by it, while others triumph over it and cultivate godlike attributes in the midst of it.
I recall a true story from our pioneer heritage that illustrates how we can choose our response to adversity. Over one hundred years ago a Swedish family who had joined the Church faced a long ocean voyage to America, a train trip from New York to Omaha, and then a trek by wagon train to Salt Lake City. During their train trip they rode in stock cars used to haul hogs. The cars were filthy and filled with hog lice. On their wagon trip across the plains, a healthy baby was born, but their three-year-old contracted cholera. During the night, the father went to a neighboring wagon to borrow a candle, but was told they couldn’t spare one. This angered him, and he fumed as he sat in the dark with his son’s limp, feverish body in his arms. The boy died that night.
The next morning the wagon master said they would hold a short funeral and bury the boy in a shallow grave. They were in Indian country and didn’t have time to do more. The father insisted on staying behind and digging a grave deep enough so the animals would not disturb the body. They experienced other hardships before they reached Salt Lake City.
Now, both the mother and the father experienced the same trials, but the father became withdrawn, cantankerous, and bitter. He stopped going to church, found fault with Church leaders. He became caught up in his own miseries, and the light of Christ grew dimmer and dimmer in his life.
On the other hand, the mother’s faith increased. Each new problem seemed to make her stronger. She became an angel of mercy—filled with empathy, compassion, and charity. She was a light to those around her. Her family gravitated toward her and looked to her as their leader. She was happy; he was miserable. (See Steve Dunn Hanson, Ensign, Feb. 1981, pp. 54–55.)
I would offer one key to maintaining your happiness in spite of adversity. Christ said, “For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: but whosoever will lose his life for my sake, the same shall save it.” (Luke 9:24.) If you would find happiness and joy, lose your life in some noble cause. A worthy purpose must be at the center of every worthy life. President Stephen L. Richards noted that life is a mission, not a career. (See Where Is Wisdom, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1955, p. 74.) As Church members, our mission should be the greatest, noblest mission in the universe—the salvation of souls. President David O. McKay was fond of quoting the poet Robert Browning, who said, “There is an answer to the passionate longings of the heart for fullness, and I knew it, and the answer is this: Live in all things outside yourself by love, and you will have joy. That is the life of God; it ought to be our life. In him it is accomplished and perfect; but in all created things it is a lesson learned slowly and through difficulty.” (Quoted in Stepping Stones to an Abundant Life, comp. Llewelyn R. McKay, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1971, p. 119.)
Service helps us forget our own travails; it enlarges our souls and gives us greater capacity to endure our own trials.
Now, I have spoken of our Father’s plan of happiness by which he guides us into eternal joy. I have talked about overcoming sin through repentance and self-mastery, and I have spoken of taking the edge off adversity through selfless service. Self-mastery and service are keys to our Father’s plan. Christ told his disciples:
“If ye keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love. …
“These things I have spoken unto you, that my joy might remain in you, and that your joy might be full.” (John 15:10–11.)
The commandments are guides to happiness. I implore you to follow them.
“Are we having fun yet, experiencing true happiness?” I certainly am. I find great joy in life in obeying and serving. I pray that you may also discover the elusive treasure of true happiness through the means that were ordained by our Father, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

The fact that Apii is alive is part of the reason her family joined the Church. When she was eight, she was desperately ill with asthma. Missionaries gave her a blessing, and she was healed literally moments later. “I was really weak,” says Apii. “I hadn’t been able to eat or drink. As soon as the missionaries said amen I was all right. I opened my eyes and asked for something to drink. Everybody sort of laughed they were so relieved.”

Four years and two more children later, we were again planning to visit my dad, who now lived 13 hours away. By then we had a different van, one that was 14 years old. About a week before leaving, I felt that I needed to replace the van’s spare tire. Remembering my previous experience, I followed the prompting. A couple of days later I felt an impression to buy some ratchet tie-downs to use on some gear we had previously tied with ropes. I needed two but bought a case of four. I put the extra two in our emergency kit.
On the way back from visiting my dad, we stopped to buy dinner. As I was getting some items out of a container on the roof of the van, my three-year-old daughter touched the sliding door. It fell to the ground! We were grateful the door didn’t hit her. We were almost 500 miles (805 km) from home on a Friday evening, so I wrangled the door into place so we could be on our way, but it wasn’t on the track and we could hear the highway as we drove. I pulled over again and used one of the extra tie-down straps to secure the door.
Several hours later the van began to shake violently. A loud banging came from the shaking door, but the strap held it in place. I pulled over and found that one of our tires had lost its belt. I quickly replaced it with the spare tire I had bought a few weeks before, and we were again on our way.

Now … let’s make this practical. Tomorrow, I want to challenge you to a campus-wide experiment I’m calling “We Talk Wednesday.” Think of it as a social hike. No blisters required.

Here’s the challenge:
Your goal is simple—make campus feel a little more like Zion. Before you head out tomorrow morning, pray and ask Heavenly Father to show you who might need a smile, a word, or a friend. And when it feels awkward … just know that’s what the edge of your comfort zone feels like.

One final note, the wildest adventure I’ve ever been a part of has been marrying my beautiful wife. We’ve earned multiple degrees, chased jobs, and moved our family across the country three times. You want to feel the spirit of adventure? Try packing all your possessions in a moving truck, your wife and young family following behind in a minivan and driving across the country to chase a job or education. I’ll never forget the feeling driving across East Texas on our way to North Carolina thinking, “These wonderful souls are depending on you. You better know what you’re doing.” It’s one of the most humbling experiences I’ve ever had. I’m so thankful for my wife. Together we embarked on a debt-free journey and sent off two missionaries.

Nothing has stretched me more, made me laugh so hard, scared me so bad, been as much fun, or as rewarding as building our life together. We set goals together, we worked hard together, we learned to mountain bike together, ran an ultramarathon together, we served the Lord together. Every bit of it has been the ride of a lifetime and I wouldn’t be half the man I am today if it weren’t for her. So, thank you for being my adventure buddy.

I’m from France, but my sister and I spent a year in the eastern United States as exchange students. During that time, we met lots of people, but the one who left the biggest impression on me was a girl named Destiny. She became one of my best friends. We did all kinds of things together, during school and after school, and with my sister. Destiny was always happy. That was the thing I liked most about her.

Then one day I saw her in a troubled mood I had never seen her in before. I asked her what was wrong. She said she didn’t want to talk about it. Then I noticed a paper in her hand. I took it and read it.

Someone had written unbelievably mean things to her. The anonymous note said she was ugly, that no one liked her, that she didn’t have any purpose for being alive, and that she ought to go and kill herself. I would never have believed someone like her could be attacked like that. It affected me deeply to know the pain she was going through.

From then on, I made an even bigger effort to be Destiny’s friend—not just to spend time with her, but to always be there for her, and especially to be sincere. I explained to her that she is a daughter of God, blessed with a divine nature, worthy of admiration and capable of great things.

It’s difficult to try to love yourself when others treat you badly and criticize you. As I befriended Destiny, I learned that sometimes the best way to help others is just to love them and to help them know who they truly are.

At the end of the year, when I had to return to France, Destiny told me something I will always treasure. “Emma,” she said, “you saved me. Before you came, I wanted to kill myself. But then you and your sister helped me a lot, just by caring. Today I love myself, and I love you.”

Elizabeth Fetzer Bates, a piano teacher and the mother of six children, become totally blind in 1951. She accepted her blindness as a challenge and decided that she would learn to do everything that she could. She said, “I wrote ‘Pioneer Children’ because we are all pioneers—we’ve never been in today before.”
In 1969, she wrote “Book of Mormon Stories” because she loves the Book of Mormon and is grateful for America. She thinks that children like this song because it is simple and true.
Sister Bates still teaches piano lessons, and she believes that everyone should write a song. “Heavenly Father has created so many lovely things that we should sing as we walk along! We can always be happy if we remember to be grateful.”

“It’s a pity you’re so short that you have to stand in the front,” my teacher said. “You’re the worst dancer in the class.”
These words were said to me in front of my entire choir class in high school. They were said with humor, and I responded with a small, forced chuckle, but truthfully, I was mortified. My teacher had choreographed simple dance steps for us to follow to perform with one of our concert pieces. Unfortunately, I’ve always been clumsy, so I struggled to get the steps right. And her words pretty much snuffed out my already miniscule flame of self-confidence. What she said was true: I was too short, and I couldn’t dance. I wondered if I would I ever be good enough.
That experience was just one of many times when I didn’t feel “good enough.” In those moments, I focus only on what I don’t have or what I can’t do, rather than what I do have and what I can do. It’s one of Satan’s greatest tools he uses against me and so many others.
After my choir teacher told me I was a horrible dancer, I was so discouraged. I had always tried to prove myself by trying to be good at what others excelled at. And I failed every time. I couldn’t shake the thought that my only talent was being a professional benchwarmer. I felt like God had forgotten to give me the right amount of “enoughness,” like He seemed to have given everyone else.
One day in seminary, my teacher gave a lesson about God’s creations. He showed us mesmerizing photos of outer space. I remember gaping at all the galaxies, stars, and planets that were shown—each one of them unique, mysterious, and beautiful in their own way.
And that’s when I realized something.
Out of all the phenomenal and unbelievable creations God made, He took the time to make me. A small, seemingly insignificant, ordinary human, who didn’t realize how extraordinary she actually was. A human uniquely set apart from all others. A human who was given her own, specific plan. A human with boundless potential and a divine destiny.
Me.
It was this moment when I finally and full-heartedly believed that “the worth of souls is great in the sight of God” (D&C 18:10). I realized that He truly thinks the world of me, and I have just the right amount of “enoughness” in His eyes.
In the end, I never did learn how to dance well. I can honestly say without any shame that I really am an awful dancer. But that’s OK! Because through the years, I’ve discovered many talents and strengths within me that I never knew I had. They’ve been revealed over time as I’ve relied on the Lord and had faith that He knows I’m good enough. Yes, we all get discouraged from time to time, but when we take a step back and truly realize the significance of who we are, our remarkable strengths, our unique abilities, and the Lord’s hand directing our lives, we are better able to endure this life with faith, hope, and exceptional confidence.

That same patience and gratitude deepened the love in her marriage. One daughter, Louise, who later became the seventh general president of the Relief Society, says that the only time she saw Elizabeth cry was when a cat knocked down the shelves in the cabin and broke that precious china. Thomas ordered the first set of Haviland that ZCMI shipped into the territory to replace it—a measure of love indeed, for they were struggling to make a living in Scipio, Utah, where he served as bishop and she as Relief Society president.

Let me tell you a story of a great missionary in our stake. Tyler is a young man attending high school. He loves to share the gospel and is bold in sharing his faith. He started talking to one of his teachers in school about baptism, and there was some interest in learning more. Tyler made a referral to the sister missionaries in his ward, who made a referral to the elders in my ward. The missionaries quickly discovered that this teacher is a neighbor to the stake president. The elders showed up to my home, and the pressure was on. I immediately took them across the street, through the pasture, and to the home of Dave, Bidya, and their two daughters. The invitation was made to come over and continue the discussion about baptism. The missionaries taught all of the discussions, and they were baptized just a few months ago. They are doing well in their early efforts to live the gospel. It’s always a joy to see God’s children accept and embrace the restored gospel.

Rubi Monzon, who recently returned from her mission, is the seminary teacher. “When I was 14, my mother died,” she says. “It was very hard on my family. Often I would be home alone, feeling lonely. One time, I was crying, and I heard a voice telling me that I wasn’t alone and that the Lord was with me and would help me. It was a soothing voice, and it made me feel good. Since then, I have felt at peace, knowing that the Lord loves me and will always be with me.”
Three years after her mother died, Rubi and her family were sealed in the Guatemala City Temple. “I feel grateful for the opportunity Heavenly Father has given us to become an eternal family. I know that through obedience I will always be with my mother, father, and brothers and sisters. Many times I think about my mother, and I know that in just a short while we can all be together again.”

One morning a tailor, a baker, and a shoemaker set out for the town fair, each thinking only of himself and what he will buy with his profits. When their donkey sits down in the middle of the road and refuses to carry them any farther, the three men are forced to work together. By so doing, they learn about themselves as well as about donkeys. You will find both humor and beauty in the illustrations of this simply-told fable.

Jeff Rebutar of the Pasig Philippines Stake thought he was prepared for retirement. After working into his late 60s, he had enough rental income to support him and his wife without governmental help.
Then his wife had a stroke. Medical bills piled up, and inflation ate into their income. Strapped for money, Brother Rebutar took the Church’s course “Starting and Growing My Business for Self-Reliance.” After some trial and error, he created a cleaning mixture that could be used in homes and workplaces.
“The training course and monthly meetings were helpful in getting started,” Brother Rebutar said. “I had to do something to provide for my family, so I kept at it. After some early business success, I became the informal group leader for others. There’s nothing like actually getting some experience with a new business. We learn by doing, not simply by attending a meeting.”

On a different trip, Joe, my third son, got caught in a huge backwash behind a giant boulder. Usually the body is heavy enough that you sink down below the waves and wash, and the current pulls you under the backwash and away from danger. However, in Joe’s case the water washed him into the backwash, which threw him like a top back into the hole. This happened over and over, and we feared for his life, but Joe did not panic. He remembered that Dale had told him he would wash through, and so Joe let himself drop down into the water and eventually washed through.

As a teenager, I lived with my family on a hill in Namur, Belgium. We often noticed missionaries pushing their bicycles slowly uphill or riding swiftly back down. One day they came to our house. Knowing they were Americans, we were curious and invited them in. It was 1951, and I was about sixteen years old.
When the missionaries started talking about religion, we four children were not too interested, but my mother listened and kept inviting them back. As they taught her, she gained a testimony of the Church. Then came the question of baptism. My mother’s parents didn’t want her to be baptized, and my father was in Germany in the occupation forces. He came back only once a month for a two- or three-day visit. My mother got his permission, however, and was baptized. But he insisted that we children wait and make our own decisions when we were older.
In the meantime, we attended church with our mother. I went mostly because I wanted to perfect my English. I participated in the youth activities. It was a very good experience because I learned how to sing, dance, and act in the theater. I became acquainted not only with the Church but with the missionaries. I was getting closer to them in age, and we became good friends. They were in our home at least two or three times a week.
When I turned twenty-one, I attended college in Liege, a city about forty miles from home. The missionaries challenged me to be baptized, and I had to make a choice. It was a matter of testimony. I had questions about the Book of Mormon. I was ninety-five percent converted, but I needed a spiritual confirmation. The missionaries helped me find it by teaching me to pray, praying with me, and helping me recognize the answers I received. I was soon baptized. Since that time in that small branch, I have continued to grow in the gospel.
My faith helped me when I experienced peer pressure. I was the only member of the Church in my high school and college and, later, in Belgium’s Air Force. To resist temptations, I had to turn somewhere. I could not just turn to a magazine or a book. I had to have the internal strength that comes from a testimony of Jesus Christ. Once you have faith and rely on it, you will be strengthened even more. Faith becomes your determining factor in making decisions and moving forward.
My father never did join the Church, but he was a fervent supporter of it because he could see its blessings in the lives of his four children. (My sister and two brothers were also baptized.) Prior to his death, he asked me to give him a priesthood blessing, and I did. We had a very special conversation, and he confided in me for the first time that he had faith. Coming from him, this was a major step.
With age, physical challenges are starting. At the end of last year I suddenly had a serious back problem. I was unable to move or to function normally. Through a priesthood blessing and my faith in the Lord, my back got better.
I think that faith is our “homework” as Latter-day Saints. When you go to school, you have a textbook, but unless you do the homework each night, you don’t progress. The scriptures are our gospel “textbook,” but we have to do our homework. Our faith needs to be practiced. Faith without works is dead.
My message to you children is to listen to your parents and follow their teachings. I had a foundation in my life from the teachings of my mother and my father, who were great examples. They were not perfect, and your parents may not be perfect, either. But if you can separate their problems from the true principles they teach, and follow by faith, you will be blessed for it. If you will turn to your parents and to the Lord, it will make a big difference.

After joining the Church, we decided to create Christmas traditions for our family that would focus less on materialism and more on Heavenly Father’s love for His children, embodied in His Son, Jesus Christ.
Aside from the tradition of decorating our home with a tree and garlands, each year our family holds a series of family home evenings to help us remember the Savior. For these meetings, we have compiled a book of our favorite Christmas songs and various drawings for the children. On the first Monday of December, we talk about the origin of Christmas, its symbols, and the ways people celebrate Jesus Christ’s birth around the world. We also read a favorite Christmas message from the Liahona of December 1986, the year my wife, Vani, and I were married. On the second Monday, we read from a favorite book about Christmas. On the third Monday, we read and discuss the First Presidency Message from the current Liahona.
The most special day of the month for us is 24 December. We invite friends and our extended family to our home for dinner and a Christmas program. In the program, the children present a musical number, we read the story of Christ’s birth, and I give a Christmas message I have prepared. We then enjoy a wonderful dinner my wife has prepared.
In these and many other ways, we have created family traditions to help us celebrate Christmas as the birth of Jesus Christ.
Antonio Carlos Pedrosa dos Santos,Visconde de Araújo First Branch, Macaé Brazil District