Gospel Story Finder

Having living prophets in our day is a sign of God’s love for His children. Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, one of our current prophets, seers, and revelators, touched my heart in a very special way at a time when I was in desperate need of comfort. After I received this overwhelming calling to become an apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ, Elder Holland was the first person to call me. I immediately recognized his distinct, powerful voice on the other end of the line and felt of his and God’s love for me. I recognized Elder Holland’s voice as the voice of one of the Savior’s servants, and it provided me great comfort and confidence in an overwhelming moment.

I’m a missionary serving in the Costa Rica San Jose Mission. I’ve enjoyed the New Era since I was 13 years old. Each issue has had articles that have helped me. The article by Vicki Leavitt Driggs in the November 1986 issue, entitled “The Grudge” seemed to be meant especially for me. It helped me tremendously with my own particular problem.
Normally, I get along well with the people I meet, and as a missionary, of course, I meet and work with a lot of different people. But I’ve had to work with a certain individual with whom it has been very difficult for me to get along. I was really feeling awful inside. I didn’t want to have bad feelings about anyone, especially one with whom I had to be very closely associated.
A couple of days ago this person did something that really hurt me. I felt quite angry and was even more “unkindly disposed” toward her than I had previously been.
When I returned to my apartment, I opened the November issue of the New Era I had just received from my parents. I started to read “The Grudge.” After reading it I realized that I felt exactly like the girl in the story. I knew I had to talk to this person whom I was allowing to make me have these negative feelings. I had to clear the air.
That’s exactly what I did. Now things are better between us than ever before. Thank you so much for this story.
Sister Cami OscarsonCosta Rica San Jose Mission

When I was about 14, I had come to the conclusion that trying a beer once would be perfectly all right. Before I had tried one, however, I had an interview with my bishop to go on a youth temple trip. One of the questions was about experimenting with drugs or alcohol. I was glad I could say no, but the question puzzled me. “Wasn’t experimenting okay?” If that question was important enough to ask in a temple recommend interview, it must not be okay. Since then, I’ve realized if you never take the first you will never take the rest. I am grateful to the Lord and a bishop for guiding me and helping me avoid so much sorrow.
Elder Aaron Ellsworth, 20Washington Seattle Mission

The Garner brothers of Rupert, Idaho, have excelled in several areas the past year.
Ben Garner, 12, was named Grand Award winner in the state for all age divisions for the Keep Idaho Green poster contest. He was presented a plaque for his poster, which used an original slogan. In addition, he received the only certificate awarded for excellence in painting.
Matt Garner, 14, took first place in the state in his division for his essay on “What Our Country’s Flag Means to Me.” Matt also received his Eagle badge and took third place in his weight division in wrestling in the district tournament. Matt had been the piano accompanist for his school choirs and was named the best overall choir member. Shortly after receiving these awards, Matt was killed in a tragic accident when he was hit while riding his bicycle.

Despite the rain on an October day, 1,601 Latter-day Saints from five stakes in Córdoba, Argentina, donated a combined 10,234 hours of service at a nursing home. Members delivered previously collected clothing, food, and hygiene kits. They also gardened, painted walls and benches, and performed talent shows. A number of sisters also volunteered hair, foot, and hand care services.
“I know that project was a help not only for them but for me too,” said 14-year-old Rocío B. after the project. “I knew I was doing the right thing and that Heavenly Father was pleased with me.”

Jenna and her mom were both baptized in 2002, and Zack was baptized when he turned eight about a year later. Her mom met the missionaries through the hospital where she works. As her mom studied the gospel, Jenna also became interested and eventually decided that she wanted to be baptized too. They attended several other churches before deciding to join The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When asked how the Church was different from other congregations, Jenna answers, “It feels like the right church. It just feels like I’m close to Heavenly Father.”

One blustery day last March, a young man named Layne Anthony climbed out of his father’s car beneath the flags to answer that call and undertake that adventure. As he lugged the heavy suitcases through the doors, he may have been thinking of the moving promises and awesome authority that had been given him the night before when his stake president set him apart. He may have been remembering the inspiring missionary farewell in sacrament meeting or the day he was ordained an elder. Perhaps he thought of the moment his eyes scanned down his call letter and he learned he was being sent to the Peru Lima North Mission. Maybe he was even thinking about his last good-bye to his girl friend. There were plenty of memories to choose from, because his old life and the old Layne Anthony were being left behind when he walked through those doors.
As the new missionaries came streaming in, a battle-wise old veteran of two or three weeks stood observing them with a knowing eye. “Once you walk through those doors,” he said, “you never come out.” And then he smiled and lent a hand with the luggage to show that he was just kidding. But whether by design or by chance, he spoke the truth, because when these young men and women boarded busses for the Salt Lake City Airport several weeks later, they would not be the same men and women who strained at their luggage that brooding gray morning in March. The real journey, the one inside their hearts, the one that would take them where no jet airliner could fly, had begun.
After leaving their luggage in a large room, the new missionaries and their families gathered in one of the Missionary Training Center’s many chapels. Allen C. Ostergar, administrative director of the MTC, addressed the assembly, telling of the joy of missionary work, recalling his own mission, and explaining some of the rules. He urged the parents not to duplicate the adventure of one lonesome mother who came and hid in the bushes to get a glimpse of her son. Some of the mothers didn’t laugh.
Recalling his own mission call, Brother Ostergar said, “As I read the call I knew I was doing what the Lord wanted me to do. I knew the Church was true. The Spirit literally touched my heart, and it changed my life. And above all other things that the missionaries will feel here, they will feel the Spirit of the Lord, and they will strengthen their testimonies. Please rest assured that that happens. We love the missionaries as if they were our own sons and daughters.”
Before long the meeting was over, and Brother Ostergar invited the missionaries to come forward and exit through doors at the front of the chapel. “Anyone who comes up this way, we keep,” he added, “so the rest of you will have to leave the way you came in.” He invited the missionaries to give their mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters a hug and a kiss and shake their girl friends’ hands. They obeyed enthusiastically, as good missionaries should. All the young ladies present were apparently sisters, because there were few handshakes. Elder Anthony gave a good hard missionary squeeze to each of his family and walked through the doors.
Emerging on the other side, the missionaries found themselves much the same as before, to all appearances, but there was a subtle difference. Now they were really on their missions. The last mooring line had been cast off, and they were embarked.

Just less than one year after our arrival in Florida, our five-year-old son was diagnosed with a medical condition that would make life significantly challenging for him. We hoped it was a misdiagnosis and prayed for a miracle.
I do believe in miracles! But they didn’t seem to be happening for us the way I hoped. Did we not have enough faith? Did Heavenly Father hear our prayers?
Life was busy as we adjusted to a new place and new schools with a growing family. Elder Homer’s job required a lot of travel. It was a stretching time for sure. I wanted our home to be a happy, comfortable place for our children, yet I felt incapable of providing this for them as I was heartbroken and worried for our son. I often poured out my heart in prayer, and sometimes in those moments, I felt such peace, and I felt known and loved. I arose from those prayers feeling more lighthearted and capable, and this hope carried me through the tough times.
Our son is doing well now, but watching the ups and downs of his life was challenging. The truth that I was known and loved by God, and that, with His help, I can do what once seemed too difficult, deepened my testimony. Life, as President Russell M. Nelson said, did not become easy, but it became easier. [2] I know we are all children of a loving Father in Heaven, and while we may not fully understand what we are capable of, He does.

President David O. McKay, in an address given at an annual Relief Society Conference in 1947, the centennial year of the Saints’ arrival in the valley, talked of the criticism given by a teacher conducting a class, who commented that it was very unwise to have even permitted the Saints to cross the plains under such circumstances, and they were talking about the Willie and Martin handcart companies who left later than they should have. President McKay said:
Some sharp criticism of the Church and its leaders was being indulged in for permitting any company of converts to venture across the plains with no more supplies or protection than a handcart caravan afforded.
An old man in the corner [and this was written by President William Palmer, who was present] sat silent and listened as long as he could stand it, then he arose and said things that no person who heard him will ever forget. His face was white with emotion, yet he spoke calmly, deliberately, but with great earnestness and sincerity.
In substance the father above mentioned said, “I ask you to stop this criticism. You are discussing a matter you know nothing about. Cold historic facts mean nothing here, for they give no proper interpretation of the questions involved. Mistake to send the Handcart Company out so late in the season? Yes. But I was in that company and my wife was in it and Sister Nellie Unthank whom you have cited was there, too. We suffered beyond anything you can imagine and many died of exposure and starvation, but did you ever hear a survivor of that company utter a word of criticism? Not one of that company ever apostatized or left the Church, because everyone of us came through with the absolute knowledge that God lives for we became acquainted with him in our extremities.
“I have pulled my handcart when I was so weak and weary from illness and lack of food that I could hardly put one foot ahead of the other. I have looked ahead and seen a patch of sand or a hill slope and I have said, I can go only that far and there I must give up, for I cannot pull the load through it.” [And a wife with a baby in her arms by his side!] “I have gone on to that sand and when I reached it, the cart began pushing me. I have looked back many times to see who was pushing my cart, but my eyes saw no one. I knew then that the angels of God were there.
“Was I sorry that I chose to come by handcart? No. Neither then nor any minute of my life since. The price we paid to become acquainted with God was a privilege to pay, and I am thankful that I was privileged to come in the Martin Handcart Company.” [“Pioneer Women,” Relief Society Magazine, January 1948, p. 8]

What’s going on?
Shhh! Let’s go talk in my room.
Don’t you think Mom and Dad have been acting weird lately?
Yeah. Sometimes when I come into the room they stop talking.
Last night when I got up for a drink of water—I mean, it was really late— they were in the kitchen whispering and looking at some papers.
I tried to find out what’s going on. The other day I asked Mom if she’s mad at me. Or if somebody’s sick or something.
What did she say?
She said nobody’s sick, I’m not in trouble, and nothing’s wrong. Of course I didn’t ask if you are in trouble …
You’re so funny.
C’mon, didn’t she tell you anything?
She said there’s nothing to worry about. They just aren’t ready to talk about it yet. I still don’t know what’s going on, but I kinda feel like everything’s OK.
Why?
Well, for one thing, I believe Mom. Plus, I’ve been praying about it, and … I dunno … I just feel more peaceful.
Kids, could you two come in the kitchen for a minute?
We know you’ve been wondering what’s going on. Well, now we can finally tell you the exciting news.
(To be continued next month.)

The angle iron clanged on the farmhouse porch as an old woman rattled a steel bar around the inside of the triangle. “Even Elias should be able to hear that,” she said.
He did. The old man in the timeworn poncho turned away from the chicken coop toward the house. “Too early for supper,” he said, peering through the haze of falling snow. Raising a bushy eyebrow, he absentmindedly picked up his hammer and started across the snow-muddied yard. Fixing the gate would have to wait until he saw what all the clamor was about. “Nothing worse than stopping a job when it’s half done!” he grumbled to a hen that scooted out of his path and under a motorcar.
He stopped at the porch and spoke to his wife. “What’s so important that I have to stop in the middle of my work? And what’s Ethel Kramer doing here?” he asked, gesturing to the Model A parked next to their house.
Grandma planted her hands on her hips. “You’ll have answers to both those questions if you’ll get yourself inside, Elias Palmer Thorton.”
Inside, he gasped at the sight of his granddaughter lying on the sofa, bruised and scraped from head to foot. “What happened to you?”
“Nellie,” she answered with a grunt of pain, turning to see him better as he brushed snowflakes from his often-patched, two-sizes-too-small poncho. “Mrs. Kramer saw me on the road and brought me home.”
Grandpa nodded a thank-you to the stout, red-haired woman. “Much obliged, Ethel.” He pulled up a chair and sat down. “What did this Nellie do to get you so banged up?”
Twelve-year-old Melody’s eyes filled with tears. “I was walking home from school. She ran up behind me and took my umbrella. She said that since she was bigger than I was, she should have it. Then she laughed and pushed me hard. I tripped over something in the weeds and fell down the little hill by Sutter’s Bridge.” Her eyes narrowed with anger. “Ever since I came to live with you and Grandma, Nellie’s been making life hard for me.”
Grandpa nodded. “And what are you planning to do about it?”
“What can I do about it, Grandpa? I’d defend myself, but Nellie’s a lot bigger and meaner than me. She’d bust me up into little pieces if I tried to fight back. I hate her, Grandpa! I wish she’d never been born!”
Grandpa and Grandma exchanged concerned looks. “Hate is an ugly thing, Melody,” Grandpa said. “It can scar and bruise us inside a lot worse than any hurts we receive on the outside. Your grandma can cleanse and bandage those cuts and scrapes, and in a few days you’ll be good as new. But hateful feelings toward others are another thing. If we don’t doctor them, they grow and fester like a sore. And in the end they consume us, along with our chance of ever being truly happy.”
Melody looked confused. And angry. “So I should say, ‘That feels good, Nellie. Do it again!’?”
“Quite the contrary, Pumpkin,” the old man chuckled, patting her hand. “If it happens again, I’ll get on the phone on that wall over there and raise enough dust to plant a field of corn. But I don’t think it needs to happen again. It’s quite possible that Nellie is feeling bad about what she did.”
“Is that why she laughed so hard when I tumbled down the hill? Because she felt bad?”
Grandpa’s eyes bored deep into his granddaughter’s. “Someone who treats others the way Nellie treats you can’t be happy. My guess is that she’s a very unhappy person. And when people hurt inside, they often take it out on others. Maybe Nellie’s striking out blindly at an easy target because her pain is too big to face. And misery loves company, even if the only way to get it is by being unkind.”
“Maybe this, maybe that,” Melody protested. “All I know is that I’m being turned into a human punching bag, and I don’t like it.”
“Nor do I,” Grandpa said. “So I want you to do something about it.”
Melody looked dumbfounded. “I’m doing all I can, Grandpa. I try to stay away from her and not pay any attention to her. In fact, I pretend that she doesn’t even exist. But she keeps showing up to remind me that she’s real—as real as the bad names she calls me, and—”
Grandpa placed a wrinkled finger gently across her lips. “I want to tell you about an experience I had when I was about your age. Then I want you to apply what I learned, and if it doesn’t make a difference, then your grandpa will.”
Melody sighed and nodded slowly.
There was a long silence. Finally Grandpa stood with a grunt. “Well, I’d better get back out there and fix that gate before the hens are everywhere but in the coop.”
A few days later, he was in the barn repairing a plow when he saw Melody crossing the yard with a bigger girl, who seemed shy, even a bit uneasy, although the two were talking and laughing. As they passed the barn, Melody spied him through the partially open doors. She picked up a rabbit, handed it to the girl to pet, and told her that she’d be right back.
“Grandpa!” she said in a low, excited voice as she hurried inside, “that’s Nellie! She walked home from school with me. I’m going to show her the dress Grandma is helping me sew. Can she stay for supper, Grandpa? We can drive her home in the truck, and—”
“That’s the Nellie?” Grandpa interrupted. “What happened?”
“All she had in her lunch yesterday was half a piece of bread and a stick of candy. So I sat by her on the steps and shared my lunch with her. I gave her some of the blackberry strudel Grandma made, half my jar of goat milk, and—”
“She let you sit by her?” Grandpa interrupted again.
“I guess she was so surprised that she didn’t know what to say, so I just did. While we were eating, her voice got all funny, and she looked away. I think she was trying to wipe away a tear. When I asked her if she was all right, she said, ‘Haven’t you ever gotten something in your eye?’ Then today after school she asked if she could walk home with me. And here she is.”
Melody hugged her grandfather so hard that he dropped the wrench he was holding. “Thanks, Grandpa,” she said, pulling away and half hiding her face with a hand.
“What’s the matter, Pumpkin?”
Melody brushed a finger quickly across her cheek. “Haven’t you ever gotten something in your eye, Grandpa?” With that, she turned and hurried back to Nellie.
Grandpa watched the two girls stroll toward the farmhouse. “Well, how about that,” he said, taking out his handkerchief. “I have something in my eye too.”

Ulisses was called to the Brazil Rio de Janeiro Mission. He served the first part of his mission under President Helio da Rocha Camargo, who would later become the first General Authority called from Brazil. Ulisses began his mission in early 1978. The first temple in Latin America was dedicated later that year in São Paulo by President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985).

In January 1980, Ulisses and his companion, who also had not received his endowment, boarded a bus in Rio de Janeiro for an eight-hour ride to the São Paulo Brazil Temple. Ulisses’s parents and siblings met him there, and the Soares family was sealed for time and eternity. Ulisses has never forgotten those five hours together in the São Paulo Temple. Later that day, he and his companion returned to the mission field.

It took me seven years to qualify to serve a full-time mission. When I first spoke with my bishop, Bishop Tapueluelu, about it, he gave me some guidelines to strive to live by. He said if I followed them and learned to be obedient, I would be blessed. The first few guidelines—daily scripture study and weekly church attendance—were pretty doable. “This is easy,” I thought. But I got offended when I was told to change certain “worldly” things in my life, and my pride and stubbornness got the best of me.
Hoping for an easier way out, I moved to four different wards and spoke with four different bishops. I even went back to school to pursue a medical degree. Then I felt prompted to drop everything and prepare once again to serve a mission. So I did. I went back to Bishop Tapueluelu and humbly asked for his help. I was told that there was a weight requirement for missionaries—and I realized that I weighed over the limit. Immediately, feelings of discouragement and embarrassment cluttered my mind, but my bishop encouraged me. He expressed his love and faith in me and said, “My door is always open. We can work on it together! One weakness, one week at a time.”
So I visited with my bishop every week, working out one weakness at a time. I had no idea that I’d have to wait another four years, just trying to qualify to serve a mission.
During those years, I strived to come closer to Christ and apply His teachings in my life. As challenges came, His Atonement became real to me. I relied on the power, comfort, and strength He gave me through His Atonement when my best friend passed away, when our family lost our home, and when I got into a car accident. When circumstances caused me to lose many of my friends, I fell into depression, but the Savior pulled me out. My Friday nights with friends were replaced with working out at the gym and studying about the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
I prayed every night for the people whom I would one day serve and even for my future companions!
I eventually qualified and was called to serve in the New Zealand Auckland Mission, Tongan-speaking.
When I entered the missionary training center, I realized that there was more to learn about Jesus Christ and His Atonement and myself. Even though I’m of Tongan descent, I had never been to the South Pacific islands, and I struggled with the Tongan language. When I got to New Zealand, I had no idea what people were saying to me in Tongan. I had so much to say, but because I couldn’t speak the language, my words were few, simple, and broken. I nodded my head when people asked me questions. They laughed at me, and I laughed with them, but behind closed doors the laughter turned into tears of frustration and discouragement. I thought to myself, “I worked seven years to come out here for this?”
So I prayed to Heavenly Father. In Ether 12:27 we learn that our weaknesses can become strengths if we trust in Him. I told Him about my weaknesses and my trust in Him, and I got back up again … and again … and again. I started to rely even more on Christ and also on my strengths.
I love this gospel and I love street art, so I decided to combine the two. I packed my scriptures, a sketchbook, charcoal pencils, permanent markers, and cans of spray paint in my backpack. My companions laughed and asked, “What are you doing with spray paint?” I explained, “I may not speak the language yet, but I can show others my testimony.”
For the remainder of my mission, I used street art—on paper, not on buildings—and the Spirit to teach others about Christ. And as crazy as it sounds, it worked. Many people didn’t want to hear my message, so I sketched it. Doors and eyes opened when I told them that I did graffiti. They didn’t believe me. They timed me for three minutes, and I sketched the word faith while teaching them about it. Among them were many who felt judged and unloved. I could testify that with faith in Christ we can feel of His love and forgiveness, and He can help us change for the better. He did for me.
Seven years of preparation for my mission helped me find myself. That time allowed me to gain a testimony of Christ’s Atonement and His power to help me overcome my weaknesses and use my strengths to share what I knew with others. In the end it was worth the seven years.

Years ago the seagulls in St. Augustine, Florida, USA, were starving. For generations the gulls had learned to depend on the shrimp fleets to feed them scraps from their nets. The shrimpers eventually moved from the area. The seagulls had not learned how to fish for themselves; nor did they teach their young how to fish. Consequently, the big, beautiful birds were dying even while there was plenty of fish all around them in the water.2

In spring 1834, some 200 elders, known as Zion’s Camp, marched 900 miles from Kirtland, Ohio, to aid the destitute Saints driven from their homes in Jackson County by Missourians. The Missourians’ plans to attack the relief force were frustrated when a severe hailstorm drove them away.
Two days later, mob leader Colonel Sconce and other members of the mob, humbled by the fury of the storm, met with the men of Zion’s camp to learn their intentions. Joseph spoke as follows:
“I arose, and, addressing them, [related] the sufferings of the Saints in Jackson county, and also our persecutions generally … ; and that we had no intention to molest … any people, but only to administer to … our afflicted friends; and that the evil reports circulated about us were false, and got up by our enemies to procure our destruction. When I had closed a lengthy speech, the spirit of which melted them into compassion, they arose and offered me their hands, and said they would use their influence to allay the excitement which everywhere prevailed against us; and they wept when they heard of our afflictions and persecutions, and learned that our intentions were good. Accordingly they went forth among the people, and made unwearied exertions to allay the excitement.”4

Warmed by the medicine man’s healing fire inside the earthen lodge, Little Wind’s all-day vigil is over. For the valiant heart of the old buffalo—injured in a senseless and shameful slaughter two days before—is still beating.
Curled against the shaggy warmth of the great beast, the exhausted boy dreams of the sky people, then sleeps …
The first long, frosted slivers of light pierced the night sky over the tablelands. Ten Days Walking stepped out of his tepee, pulled a buffalo robe around him, and headed toward the earthen lodge. He entered quietly and stood for a long moment in the little bit of night still hiding inside, his eyes upon Little Wind, his son, who lay asleep with his head pillowed against the old buffalo. The ancient beast’s sides no longer rose and fell with a steady cadence.
Ten Days Walking stepped closer and put his ear to the animal’s side, but there was no heartbeat.
Little Wind stirred, then awoke. The look on his father’s face told him all he feared to know. His dark eyes widened and studied the creature beside him, then his vision was blurred by a thin veil of tears. “He only sleeps, Father.” Little Wind whispered with wishful uncertainty.
“It is the long sleep, my son,” Ten Days Walking uttered with reverent matter-of-factness. “The Great Spirit has called it home.”
“But I prayed so hard. It cannot be!” Little Wind buried his face in the old creature’s soft fur and wept.
Ten Days Walking sat down beside the boy and leaned back against the still warm bison. Gently and slowly he ran his large hand through Little Wind’s long hair, then he spoke. “Was it not this great one’s time, small warrior?” he asked. “No man or beast can remain on this earth place beyond his given time. This old four-legged had fathered countless of its kind and given much majesty and dignity to Mother Earth. Would it not perhaps be wrong now, maybe even selfish, to deny it its blessed rest?”
Little Wind could not—even in his pain—deny the simple wisdom of his father’s words. He nodded through his tears and snuggled himself against the big warrior who enclosed him in his great robe.
For a long while Little Wind watched the new light grow brighter in the lodge, spilling down through the hole in the center of the thatched roof and shedding its glow on the old buffalo. Then he muttered softly, “Grandfather says that life is like a blossom and that death is like the flower unfolding. What does he mean, Father?”
Ten Days Walking smiled knowingly. “Red Owl Watching means that to become like the Great Spirit, we must first become like a little child, like a … blossom … that opens into its greater self in the brighter light of heaven.”
Little Wind looked confused. Ten Days Walking’s smile broadened and he went on. “What your grandfather means is that he is anxious to leave his earth lodge and enter the great lodge of your Father and mine and to share in the wondrous things that await every valiant warrior who has served his Creator well.”
Little Wind didn’t know if he felt better because of his father’s strong arms around him or because of his wise counsel. Maybe it was both. Whatever it was, it was something to cling to every time his eyes returned to the old buffalo or to the lodge where his Grandfather, Red Owl Watching, lay in a long illness. “Will Grandfather die soon also?” he wondered out loud.
Ten Days Walking held his smile. There was a sadness in his voice at the thought of the old man’s leaving, but also the sound of hope. “Yes, it will very soon be his time. But as time rushes by like wind over a bird’s wing, my son, we will soon be together again. It is all part of a very wise plan.”

It was with eager anticipation that I went to the temple in October of 1968 to receive my next ordinance: the endowment. I went with my parents. I had been taught nothing about the endowment prior to my going. There was no temple preparation class. My bishop and stake president had said very little to me as I interviewed for my temple recommend, explaining that we don’t talk about the temple experience outside of the temple. As I entered the temple, I recall feeling the warm blanket come over me once again—a feeling of being home and safe inside God’s Holy House. Although I didn’t remember much about that first temple endowment session and the covenants I made that day, I remember feeling acceptable to the Lord and being at peace in His temple.

When I was eight, two cousins and I were sent to a nearby town to get groceries for the next 15 days. Looking back, I am amazed at how much confidence my grandmother and my aunt and uncle had in us. The morning skies were bright and shiny as we departed in our small caravan of three horses.
In the middle of the prairie, we had a brilliant idea that we should dismount and play marbles. So we did—for a long time. We were so absorbed in our game that we did not see the “signs of the times” above our heads as dark clouds covered the sky. By the time we realized what was happening, we didn’t even have time to mount our horses. The heavy rain was hitting us so hard, and hail was hitting our faces, so we could not think of anything to do but unsaddle the horses and take cover under the saddle blankets.
Horseless, wet, and cold, we continued our journey, now trying to move as fast as we could. As we approached our destination, we saw that the wide street that entered the town had flooded and was like a river heading toward us. Now our only choice was to drop our covers and climb the barbed-wire fence that surrounded the town. It was late at night when, tired and sore and soaked, we sought shelter in the first home we saw as we entered the town. The good young family there dried us off, fed us delicious bean burritos, and then put us to bed in a room of our own. Soon we discovered that the room had a flat dirt floor, so we had another brilliant idea. We drew a circle on the floor and continued our marbles game until we collapsed to the floor in sleep.
As children we were just thinking about ourselves. We never thought about the loved ones who were desperately searching for us back home—if we had, we would have never delayed our journey in such a useless pursuit. And if we had been wiser, we would have looked at the sky, spotted the clouds forming, and accelerated our pace to stay ahead of the storm. Now that I have a little more experience, I always remind myself, “Don’t forget to look up.”
Returning to my account, my cousins and I woke in the morning to a bright sun and beautiful sky. A man knocked on the door looking for the three lost boys. He put us on horses, and we started back home through the same prairie. I will never forget what we saw on our way home—a multitude of people who had been searching for us throughout the night, their tractors and trucks stuck in the mud. They had found a saddle here and a horse there, and when they saw us returning home, I could feel their relief and their love. At the entrance to town, many people were waiting for us, and in front of them all were my loving grandmother and my uncle and aunt. They embraced us and cried, overjoyed that they had found their lost children. What a great reminder this is to me that our loving Heavenly Father is mindful of us. He is anxiously awaiting our return home.

She spent the next six years in Bath, living with the family of a missionary, Thomas Yates, and spending her small earnings on a fruitless search for her children. “After years of fasting and prayers, and many tears, the Lord opened the way for me to come to Zion,” with the Yates family and their son Thomas, just back from his 6 1/2 year mission.

We do not know what it cost her to leave England. She only says, “I prayed earnestly to God to help me in the long tedious journey that was before me, that I might not murmur on the way, or complain if a lion should be in my path, and he answered my prayers, for I saw nothing to murmur at. My heart was filled with gratitude all the way.”

Her son tells us what she, in the patience of her faith, omitted. She nearly died of seasickness, which lasted the entire voyage. She and Thomas were married on the morning of July 22, 1863, in Florence, Nebraska, and began the trek westward that afternoon. When Elizabeth discovered that there was not room for both her and her trunk in the wagon, she thought of her carefully packed china, the loveliest things she owned, and walked every step of the way, “my heart filled with gratitude.”

“Many shed tears of joy,” she says, “on first beholding the City of the Saints.” She does not say if she was among them, but she must have been.

Under sacred circumstances, our beloved prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, once reminded me of two simple truths that are foundational to your grand and glorious work.
As I sat on the couch with my husband, our prophet pulled his chair over, almost knee to knee with us, and looked at me with his piercing blue eyes. I wasn’t sure if my heart was racing or had completely stopped as he called me to serve as the Young Women General President. He asked a question that still echoes in my heart, “Bonnie, what’s the most important thing the [youth] need to know?”
I pondered for a moment and said, “They need to know who they are.”
“YES!” he exclaimed, “and they need to know their purpose.”
You are a cherished, beloved child of Heavenly Father. He loves you so perfectly that He sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to atone for you and for me. The Savior’s love for us is unfailing—even when we fail! Nothing can separate us from the love of God. Remembering this love can help you push back the confusion of the world that tries to weaken your confidence in your divine identity and blind you of your potential.
At an FSY conference, I met two young women who had been struggling. Both young women mentioned turning to her patriarchal blessing to rediscover the Lord’s love and guidance for her personally. Find your patriarchal blessing, blow off the dust if you must, but study it often. If you don’t have one, get one—soon. Don’t delay finding out what the Lord wants to tell you now about who you are.
President Nelson’s second truth spoken to us that day is to know our purpose. This is our grand and noble charge.
Many years ago, my son Tanner was about five years old when he played his first soccer game. He was thrilled!
When we arrived at the game, we realized that his team was using a regulation-size soccer goal—not some little pop-up goal but a very large net that seemed way too big for five-year-olds.
The game took on mythic proportions as I saw Tanner take the goalie position. I was so surprised. Did he really understand his purpose in guarding the net?
The whistle blew, and we became so caught up in the game we forgot all about Tanner. Suddenly one of the opposing team members got the ball and dribbled it swiftly toward him. I looked in Tanner’s direction to make certain he was ready to stand his ground and defend the goal. I saw something I was not expecting.
At some point in the game, Tanner had become distracted and began weaving his left arm through the various holes in the net. Then he did the same with his right arm. Next, his left foot. Finally, his right foot. Tanner was fully entangled in the net. He had forgotten his purpose and what he had been entrusted to do.
While Tanner’s soccer career didn’t last long, his lesson to me that day will never fade. We all occasionally get distracted from why we are here and divert our energies somewhere else. One of Satan’s most powerful weapons is to distract us with good and better causes which, in times of need, may blind and bind us away from the best cause—the very work that called us into this world.
Our eternal purpose is to come unto Christ and actively join Him in His great work. It is as simple as doing what President Nelson taught: “Anytime we do anything that helps anyone … make and keep their covenants with God, we are helping to gather Israel.” And when we do His work together with Him, we come to know and love Him more.
We continually seek to draw closer to the Savior through faith, cherished repentance, and keeping the commandments. As we bind ourselves to Him through covenants and ordinances, our lives are filled with confidence, protection, and deep and lasting joy.
As we come to Him, we see others through His eyes. Come unto Christ. Come now, but don’t come alone!
The gospel of Jesus Christ is not just nice; it is essential for all. “There is no other way or means whereby [we] can be saved, only in and through Christ.” We need Jesus Christ! The world needs Jesus Christ.
Remember, the best way for you to improve the world is to prepare the world for Christ by inviting all to follow Him.
There is a story in the Book of Mormon that speaks powerfully of the resurrected Savior spending time with the Nephites. Can you imagine what that would be like?
As Christ announced that He must return to the Father, “he cast his eyes round about again.” Seeing tears in the people’s eyes, He knew their hearts were longing for Him to linger.
He asked: “Have ye any that are sick among you? Bring them hither. Have ye any that are lame, or blind, … deaf, or that are afflicted in any manner? Bring them hither and I will heal them.”
Having great compassion, He set no limits and called for all “that are afflicted in any manner.” I love that nothing is too big or too small for Jesus Christ to heal.
He knows our suffering as well and calls, Bring forth the anxious and depressed, the weary, the prideful and misunderstood, the lonely, or those who “are afflicted in any manner.”
And all “did go forth … ; and he did heal them every one. …
“… Both they who had been healed and they who were whole, [did] bow down at his feet, and did worship him.”
Every time I read this, I ask myself: Who will I bring to Christ? Who will you bring?
Can we look round about again, as Jesus did, to make sure no one is missed and everyone is invited to come to know Him?
Let me share an example of how simple it can be. My 15-year-old friend Peyton had a goal to read five verses of scripture at breakfast each day, but she didn’t do it alone. Looking again, Peyton invited her parents and siblings, even her five-year-old brother. This seemingly small act is what Christ was teaching when He invited, “Bring them hither.”
This invitation from the Lord is still extended today. Young women and young men, start now, in your own home. Will you pray and ask Heavenly Father how you can support your parents as they continue to come unto Christ? They need you just as much as you need them.
Then look again at your siblings, friends, and neighbors. Who will you bring to Christ?
Our Savior declared, “Behold I am the light; I have set an example for you.” We will feel the love and peace of the Savior as we join Him in saving God’s family, for He has promised, “He that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.”
What a glorious time to be engaged in the cause of Christ!
Yes, you are here for something grand. I join with President Nelson, who said: “The Lord needs you to change the world. As you accept and follow His will for you, you will find yourself accomplishing the impossible!”
I boldly testify that the Lord knows who you are and He loves you! Together, we will advance His purpose until that great day when Christ Himself returns to this earth and calls each of us to come “hither.” We will joyfully gather together, for we are those who come unto Christ, and we do not come alone. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.