Gospel Story Finder

Many students in the United States recite the Pledge of Allegiance out of habit, but Daniel Harmer took it seriously when his school in Idaho did not recite the pledge or observe a moment of silence; his previous school in Texas had done this every day. He wrote a letter to his student council, a local newspaper, and his principal. He suggested the pledge and a moment of quiet reflection every morning could create an atmosphere in which students would respect each other and their country more. Daniel’s high school has put his suggestion into practice, and his efforts were even recognized by Idaho’s governor.

Although I always strove to keep the commandments and live worthily, I truly started preparing to receive my own endowment before going on my mission.
I took a temple preparation class that was very helpful to me. Two ministering sisters offered to answer questions and help me know what to expect. And as I listened to their experiences and their testimonies, my anticipation to enter the temple intensified.
But much to my surprise, after I finished taking my temple prep class and as the day of my endowment drew closer, I started facing a lot of temptations.
Likewise, I saw a lot of opposition in preparing to serve a full-time mission. I experienced a lot of anxiety. My mental health started to dwindle, and I had to take necessary steps to face my feelings and move forward with faith.
As this was happening, I realized that the adversary did not want me to take these great spiritual steps.
To combat this opposition, I prayed every day for help to overcome temptations and my anxious feelings. I relied on Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ more than I ever had before. I fasted, studied the scriptures, and sought revelation. I prayed for strength to make the right decisions, to overcome my weaknesses, and to simply feel peace in my heart and keep an eternal perspective.
Those small spiritual practices helped me better recognize and follow the promptings of the Spirit. I also felt my anxiety lessen. I gained a greater understanding of the healing power of Jesus Christ and was often enveloped in peace when I turned to Him.
Ironically, it was through facing temptations and fear that I was able to come closer to Christ and prepare myself to receive my endowment.
And when I entered the Sapporo Japan Temple, the familiar Spirit I had felt as a child in the Tokyo Temple lobby was there, but this time it was so much stronger, just as I had always imagined it would be.
After receiving my endowment, I sat quietly in the celestial room and said a prayer, asking Heavenly Father what He wanted me to know.
The Spirit revealed to me that Heavenly Father knew me and my circumstances (see Doctrine and Covenants 38:2). I knew that He was pleased with me for making covenants and that He wants us to come to His house—a house that can truly distance us from the hectic world while strengthening us and bringing us closer to Him and Jesus Christ.
I felt the most powerful feeling of peace in my heart. And I was also able to receive the revelation I needed to feel confident in my decision to serve a mission.

I continued to travel each weekend to various parts of the world. Many months later, I was assigned to a conference in a city noted for its particularly flagrant violations of God’s laws. The Saints there were wonderful, but oh, the decadence and debauchery that seemed to be all around them.
As I returned from the especially hectic weekend, I began reading in the scriptures. I thought about Sodom and Gomorrah. Could they have been much more wicked than this? And yet the Lord promised to spare them for fifty righteous souls—or even down to ten—but they were not found.
I let my imagination go and seemed to see a band of destroying angels loosed from heaven—thundering across the land. And even before I had time to think about the situation, I seemed to see myself standing in front of these determined destroyers, declaring, “Hold, hold, hold”; and they held. “Go back,” I said: and their horses reared, their eyes flashing in impatience. The destroyers’ anxiousness showed, but they held.
The leader looked me squarely in the eye and challenged, “By what right do you ask us to hold? Have you not seen the evil of the land?”
I replied, “Yes, I know of the sordidness of the world. I see the constant mocking of God’s laws, the merchandising on his holy day, the constant breaking of his commandments. I see the evil that exists almost universally. Yes, yes, all these things are true, still …” Then I became concerned. What right had I to ask them to hold?
My eyes began to fall from his penetrating gaze, but something inside kept searching, searching, until finally a laserlike beam locked onto a misty memory made many months ago and faithfully filed away for such a time as this. A vista of a beautiful green valley passed before me and moved to the front of my consciousness.
I raised my eyes and met his as he again said, “What right do you have to ask us to hold?”
Then with the confidence of sure knowledge and spiritual direction, I replied, “You must hold, for you see, I have been through Cache Valley on a Sunday afternoon.”
There was no hesitation, no anger, no look of surprise, no disappointment, only obedience; and he turned and rejoined his group, and they left.

André
On our move to Maryland, I was driving while Giselle slept. It was early in the morning when I saw the Washington D.C. Temple.
“Wake up! Wake up! Can you see it?” I said to Giselle. “It’s like a castle!”
Giselle
I told André that maybe we could go and visit one day. We had no idea what it was. A few days after arriving in Maryland, I went to the library to use the internet to apply for jobs and check my email.
A lady who worked there heard my accent and asked where I was from. I told her I was from Brazil and we started to talk. Her name was Edna. I told her we had just moved from Michigan and mentioned where we lived.
“I live in the same apartments,” Edna said.
When I went back to the library the next day, Edna said, “I’m so glad you’re back. I want to invite you and your husband to my house for dinner.”
I thought that was strange because she didn’t know me. Then she said, “I prayed about you because I felt something really special when I met you yesterday.”
We went to her house and learned that her husband had recently passed away. After dinner, she played, “Lord, I Would Follow Thee” (Hymns, no. 220) on the piano. She said it was her husband’s favorite hymn and it was played at his funeral. Then she talked to us about the plan of salvation and invited us to go to church with her.
We went to church, and the people there were welcoming. We decided to go the next Sunday. We agreed to have the missionary lessons. Edna offered to have the lessons at her house. For five months we went to church every Sunday. Our hearts and spirits were being prepared for baptism.
André
When our baptism was announced, everyone looked surprised. “Wow, you’re not members?” they said. “But you’re here every week!” Our baptism was special. Almost the whole ward attended.
We were sealed in the Washington D.C. Temple one year later. When we went to the temple, we realized that it was the castle we saw over a year earlier!

I heard President Grant on several occasions before I met him. As teenage boys, my brother and I came to this Tabernacle at conference when there was room for anybody who wished to come. As boys are wont to do, we sat in the balcony at the very far end of the building. To me it was always impressive when this tall man stood to speak. Some kind of electricity passed through my boyish frame. His voice rang out in testimony of the Book of Mormon. When he said it was true, I knew it was true. He spoke with great power on the Word of Wisdom and, without hesitation, promised blessings to the people if they would observe it. I have often thought of the human misery, the pain that has resulted from the smoking of cigarettes, the poverty that has resulted from the drinking of liquor which might have been avoided had his prophetic counsel been followed.
He spoke on the law of tithing. I can still hear his great testimony of this principle. He spoke of the fast offering and said, as I remember him from my boyhood days, that if all the world would observe this simple principle, which came as a revelation from God, the needs of the poor over the earth would be met without taxing the people for welfare purposes.
He warned against the enslavement of personal debt. The world at that time was on a reckless pursuit of riches. Then came Black Thursday of November 1929. I was nineteen years of age, a student at the university. I saw the economy crumble. I saw men whom I knew lose everything as their creditors moved against them. I saw much of the trauma and the stress of the times. I thought then, and I have thought since, how so many people might have been saved pain and misery, suffering, embarrassment, and trouble had they listened to the counsel of a prophet concerning personal debt.

“If that’s the direction you want to go, let’s take some lessons from those expert mountain climbers you recently met. What do you remember most about their experiences?”
“Oh, I learned a lot, but the most important thing I remember is their advance planning. They anticipated everything that could possibly happen and were prepared with decisions made well in advance in response to whatever they might encounter.
“Their teamwork was really impressive to me too. As they had tremendous hardships to overcome and heights to climb, they linked themselves together with ropes. The ropes were attached to something solid above as they pulled themselves up. Occasionally even the other people to whom they were linked became their anchors. We saw photographs showing one person dangling in midair while being tethered to people he trusted both above and below. He didn’t fall because of his ties to other people!
“They also maintained excellent communications. Even though they might have been temporarily separated, they were always in good communication. It seemed that the closer they were to potential danger, the more they leaned toward the center.”
“Did anyone ask the question ‘How close to the edge can I come?’” prompted her father.
“No! Quite the contrary. Their emphasis always seemed to be ‘How close to the center can I stay!’” Then, with a look of understanding, she replied, “Now I’m beginning to understand what you are trying to tell me.”

In April 2021, while serving as a stake president, a call was extended to me to serve as an Area Seventy. This call coincided with a significant event in our family’s life. Our second son, William, was diagnosed with a medical condition that doctors said was incurable, a disease known as ocular myasthenia which is an autoimmune disease that can only be managed by carefully administered steroids.
We were devastated as a family and experienced many traumatic moments in our lives because of his health condition. In the midst of this challenging situation, I focused on counsel from President Russell M. Nelson: “To do anything well requires effort. Becoming a true disciple of Jesus Christ is no exception. Increasing your faith and trust in Him takes effort. …
“Become an engaged learner. Immerse yourself in the scriptures to understand better Christ’s mission and ministry. Know the doctrine of Christ so that you understand its power for your life.”
This inspired me to learn more about our son’s condition and to study the gospel for comfort during those challenging times. As a result of my study, I discovered many valuable truths about being a true disciple of Jesus Christ.
First, the power of faith in the Saviour Jesus Christ and His plan of salvation.
I have come to understand that challenges are part of our mortal lives. In fact, before our coming to this mortality, we fully understood that trials would be part of our lives and would be for our good and would help us to recognize the blessings that are so abundantly available to everyone. These trials reassure us that all will be well despite the magnitude of what our challenges might be.
President Nelson declared: “Faith in Jesus Christ is the foundation of all belief and the conduit of divine power. …
“Everything good in life—every potential blessing of eternal significance—begins with faith. Allowing God to prevail in our lives begins with faith that He is willing to guide us. True repentance begins with faith that Jesus Christ has the power to cleanse, heal, and strengthen us.”
Second, a better understanding of who God is and our relationship to Him and His priesthood. I have come to understand that we literally come from God, and we are eternally tied to Him, never to be separated. Within us is the potential of godhood. Even though it may look impossible to compare us to God at present moment, we have all the makings of God. He has put within us, in every cell, every membrane, the power to bless and to heal. The scriptures teach us that we are gods, children of the most High. After Adam and Eve had partaken of the fruits, in fulfillment of the plan of happiness, the scriptures declared, “Behold, the man is become as one of us.”
This relationship to God and His love qualifies us to receive the priesthood and power of God. For bearers of the holy priesthood this knowledge and privilege is even more significant. President Dieter F. Uchtdorf taught: “We all know that the priesthood is much more than just a name or title. The Prophet Joseph taught that ‘the Priesthood is an everlasting principle, and existed with God from eternity … to eternity, without beginning of days or end of years.’ It holds ‘even the key of the knowledge of God.’ In fact, through the priesthood the very ‘power of godliness is manifest.’
Third, adversities can lead to experiencing charity, the pure love of Christ. During that challenging time in our family life, the love we had for our son, the rest of our children, for each other and for every one of Heavenly Father’s children grew exponentially. We learned to see each of Heavenly Father’s children as He would see them — eternal beings with limitless potential. Our desire to forgive all was enhanced, and an eye of faith and eternal perspective was developed. Love for God and all His children is perhaps, the most potent of all the forces in the universe.
Elder Gene R. Cook of the Seventy tells the story of his friend Betty who suffered many tribulations. He narrates: “Betty … encountered many … difficulties … , but because she felt God’s love, she suffered tribulation in the Savior’s name, partook of His divine nature, and thus gained a deeper faith in and a love for God, along with the strength to handle whatever might come.
“Her love for others increased. She seemed to even forgive others in advance.”
To me to forgive in advance is to understand that all Heavenly Father’s children are free to choose. When the consequences of their choices bring us unwanted effects, it’s no longer about them. It’s about us, and how we will respond. Will we love or otherwise? When we give people the benefit of the doubt, we are the ones who receive the benefit.
Elder Marvin J. Ashton (1915–1994) beautifully observed: “Perhaps the greatest charity comes when we are kind to each other, when we don’t judge or categorize someone else, when we simply give each other the benefit of the doubt. … Charity is accepting someone’s differences, weaknesses, and shortcomings; having patience with someone who has let us down; or resisting the impulse to become offended when someone doesn’t handle something the way we might have hoped.”
Fourth, act by inspiration. Another important truth, I have come to learn is that, yes, the Lord expects us to act and to work for many things in our lives. However, when our actions are based on inspiration, what we achieve is exponentially greater than what we can achieve on our own.
President Boyd K. Packer (1924–2015) taught “Each of us must stay in condition to respond to inspiration and the promptings of the Holy Ghost. The Lord has a way of pouring pure intelligence into our minds to prompt us, to guide us, to teach us, and to warn us. Each son or daughter of God can know the things they need to know instantly. Learn to receive and act on inspiration and revelation.”
Fifth, live in joy. Lehi teaches that we came into this world that we might experience joy. The Prophet Joseph Smith once 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.” It became very apparent to me that challenges will be a regular feature in our lives and if one is waiting to die to experience joy or happiness, life will not be joyful. We have come to learn to identify and celebrate small moments of joy. Loving and appreciating small moments of joy adds up to long periods of joy. President Nelson describes, “Clearly, Lehi knew opposition, anxiety, heartache, pain, disappointment, and sorrow. Yet he declared boldly and without reservation a principle as revealed by the Lord: ‘Men are, that they might have joy.’”
We have come to learn that there are more good things happening around us than bad. If we pay attention, we will find many reasons to glory in it. One hymn states, “Count your many blessings; name them one by one, and it will surprise you what the Lord has done.”
I know that this life was created for the purpose of helping us become more by what we experience. We have learned never to regret any moments. They are all designed for our growth, learning, and becoming.

The work and privation were intensified for the entire family when Brigham’s mother died of tuberculosis in his 14th year. The father soon after moved to a new homestead on 100 acres of timber 15 miles from any settlement and was sometimes away working or getting supplies in the nearest towns. At these times the children were left to clear land and care for the maple trees by themselves. Brigham’s younger brother, who was named after the great Methodist preacher, Lorenzo Dow, recalls that one time when he and Brigham were left alone for a few days while their father went for food, they were famished from living only on the insubstantial maple sugar. Brigham finally shot a robin that lit near the house, and while it was cooking, they managed to thump a few spoonfuls of flour out of the cracks of the empty flour barrel and thus “thickened the broth.”7 The grimness of such an existence was intensified by the father’s continuing insistence that the children not indulge in any amusements. Brigham remembers that his brother Joseph, older by four years, seemed never to smile “during some four or five years.”8

Eighteen-year-old Liane Pearce and Tony Morgan, 21, a recently returned missionary, have joined the brigade of traffic wardens, or “yellow peril” (referring to the stripes on their uniforms) as they are more commonly called, assigned to traffic control on London’s busy streets.
It’s hard work—long hours trudging the streets in all kinds of weather—and they are the targets for abuse, both verbal and physical, from angry motorists. But they both say they love their unusual job.
Because they are the only members of the Church in their brigade, they have plenty of opportunities for missionary work. As far as rough language of fellow workers is concerned, Liane says, “Tony and I turn a deaf ear. People know we are members of the Church and, strangely enough, seem to be respectful to us.
“People imagine all we do is hand out parking tickets,” she continues, “but that’s only a small part of it. We consider we are doing a public service by directing the traffic, keeping the roads clear for other motorists, and working school crossing patrols.”

Mzwakhe Sitole faces a challenge. As ward Sunday School president, he has a God-given responsibility to help improve gospel learning and teaching in the ward.1
But the members of his ward in Johannesburg, South Africa, have, in some cases, vastly different backgrounds and expectations. Some are well-educated; others are not. Many have been taught that a student’s place is to listen, not to talk. Others face an uphill cultural battle in understanding that both men and women should be involved in teaching at church and at home.
“We also have people who speak different languages,” Brother Sitole says. “But the Spirit wants to prompt each one.”
When teacher council meetings and Teaching in the Savior’s Way were introduced last year, wards and branches throughout the Church began holding teacher council meetings to discuss, learn about, and practice what it means to teach in the Savior’s way.
That’s when Brother Sitole began to see how teacher council meetings could bless his ward. Cultural challenges could be addressed, class participation could be increased, and different perspectives of members could become blessings.
Like many others around the world, Brother Sitole realized that the Lord isn’t using teacher council meetings just to change how we teach; He’s using them to also change how we learn.
One of the most interesting discoveries for Brother Sitole was that as teachers empower students to participate in their own learning, everyone benefits from the expanded view that different perspectives provide.
That understanding came to Brother Sitole during a teacher council meeting, when a ward member shared the parable of the blind men and the elephant, only with a twist. The parable tells how six blind men each describe an elephant differently (a leg is like a pillar, the tail is like a rope, the trunk is like a water spout, and so forth) because each is touching a different part.2
“But suppose the elephant represents gospel teaching,” Brother Sitole says. “Then we need to enable each class member to share their perspective, so that together we come to a common understanding of how the gospel blesses us all.”
That’s why teachers in Brother Sitole’s ward always sit around a table during teacher council meeting—to facilitate discussion. “It reminds us that everyone has an equal voice,” he says.

Sister Hurtado’s mother was a widow who supported her four children by what they made from a store they ran in their home. Sunday was the day the family did the most business. They lived across from a movie theater, and moviegoers would stop at their store to buy refreshments. They also sold cooking oil in large containers, and their customers always came on Sunday.
The missionaries taught and baptized the whole family. The Sunday morning following their baptisms, Sister Hurtado asked her mother who was to stay at home to tend the store. She was shocked by her mother’s response. “We are closing the store for the whole day. We are now members of the Lord’s church, and we will keep his commandments.”
Sister Hurtado reminded her mother that they would lose their best business, but her mother was firm in her decision to honor her covenant with the Lord.
They closed the store that Sunday and every Sunday thereafter. To Sister Hurtado’s surprise, they did not lose the business of those who had bought oil on Sunday. Their customers learned to come on other days to buy. In fact, their overall sales increased, even though the family was working six days instead of seven.

In March 1997, while living in the Russian city of Rostov-on-Don, my husband and I were baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
As I studied the doctrines of the Church, many of my questions were answered. It was interesting to learn about the plan of salvation, including the practice of baptism for the dead. I was surprised to learn that we could be baptized for our deceased ancestors.
A year after our baptism, the mission president invited us to prepare to go to the temple. As part of our preparation, we started doing family history research. One day as I was thinking about doing this work, the phone rang. It was my mother-in-law. I asked her if she would send me a list of the deceased ancestors on my husband’s side of the family. She was amazed and told me that baptism for the dead was not Christ’s doctrine but rather something the Mormons had made up. I wasn’t sure how to answer her because I wasn’t familiar with scriptural references that supported the doctrine.
As I was thinking about how to respond, the phone switched off. I was unsure for a minute what had happened, but I hung up the phone and went to my bedroom. I took the New Testament into my hands, knelt to pray, and asked Heavenly Father to show me where I could find the answer.
At the end of my prayer, I opened the Bible. I felt as if someone had told me to read the 29th verse on the very page I had opened. I was in the 15th chapter of 1 Corinthians, which talks about the doctrine of baptism for the dead.
I was touched and surprised that Heavenly Father had answered my prayer at that very moment. It was a wonderful feeling.
I was thinking deeply about this experience when suddenly the phone rang again. It was my mother-in-law, asking me why the phone had switched off. I told her I didn’t know but then asked her to open her Bible and read 1 Corinthians 15:29.
A few days later a list of deceased relatives was on my table. My mother-in-law had read the scripture and now believed that the Savior, through the Apostle Paul, had taught the doctrine of baptism for the dead.
God has promised great blessings to those who do this redemptive work. I know this to be true.

I used to have a 1978 Harley-Davidson motorcycle. I had invested a huge sum of money in it and was indescribably proud of it. It was everything to me. Every Sunday I joined a group of friends in Patillas, Puerto Rico, and we rode our motorbikes around the island. We forgot all our problems, our families, God—everything—for a brief period of pleasure on those bikes. In essence, my motorcycle was my idol.
That all changed when a former classmate, Jaime Rivera Gómez, introduced me to the Church. I will be eternally grateful to Jaime and to the missionaries for their teachings, patience, and genuine love. My wife and I were baptized on 31 March 1996.
Finding the gospel of Jesus Christ changed our lives completely. I immediately sold my motorcycle, for much less money than I had invested in it. But the sacrifice was worth it. As I changed my life, Heavenly Father—the only true God—poured out blessings on me. Now I am happy. My home is happy. I love my wife and my children. We hold family home evening, and we pray and serve the Lord as a family.
Three months after becoming members of the Church, we traveled to the Washington D.C. Temple and were baptized for some of our ancestors. Our second visit to the temple was in July 1997. There we received our endowments and performed sacred ordinances for our loved ones.
I know God loves me, and I am striving each day to become more like Him.

“Brother Hunk,” the stake leader said, “the youth conference you planned and supervised was the most impressive activity I’ve seen. As the youth representative you single-handedly organized and carried off a wholesome activity that will be recorded in this stake’s history. Every house has been painted, disaster plans and emergency supplies are present in every household, wickedness is banished, corruption and litter are gone. And the youth say they’ve never had so much fun. You are magnificent!”
The youth surrounding the stake leader cheered the Hunk.
“Dexter! Dexter!”
The voice of his priesthood adviser, brother Magnuson, broke through.
“Dexter, will you help set up tables for the youth conference next month?” asked brother Magnuson.
Dexter looked up, realized he was at a ward youth meeting, and replied, “I dunno.”
There’s no glory in that, thought Dexter. I want to be chairman or nothing. Fat chance of being chairman so I’ll be nothing. He sat silent for the rest of the meeting.
Afterwards Julie hurried to catch him as he started to climb into the family car.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “You’ve been so distracted and distant lately, like you’re in a different world. You always used to help out with youth conferences. What’s bothering you?”
“It’s nothing,” said Dexter. “It’s just that I’m tired of being ordinary—just average, with no honor or recognition. Look at us Julie. We’re the average kids. No one notices us. We are never head of anything, never applauded, just the average ones who are always there. If the school paper did an article about us do you know what it would say?”
Dexter picked up a school book, cleared his throat, and in a deep voice intoned, “Dexter and Julie are two average students at Riverview High. They have never been president of any organization. They did not win a scholarship. They haven’t won a race or a trophy. They have not won honors for any talent. They are average.”
“Now,” said Dexter, putting down the book. “Do you see what I mean?”
“But we try.”
“Name one thing you do really well Julie.”
“I like to paint.”
“Have you won any awards?”
“Well, no.”
“Don’t you see what I mean. You’re an average painter. So why paint?”
“Maybe I’m not a Michelangelo or even a Grandma Moses. But painting makes me so aware of the world. How many colors do you see in that tree?”
“One—it’s green. Trees are all the same. All green.”
“But I see maybe ten shades and colors—some darker with touches of brown, other parts lighter with splashes of yellow.”
“They’re still trees in an average painting. For me it’s going to be the top or nothing. I want to be a winner. I want recognition!”
His voice had gotten louder and classmates turned to stare.
“You’re getting recognition,” giggled Julie.
He lowered his voice. “I want to be the best, the greatest.”
“Well,” replied Julie, “it wasn’t some famous person that touched our family when we were investigating the Church. It was my three-year-old niece singing ‘I Am a Child of God.’ Sometimes the common can achieve the uncommon.”
“Not for me. I want to be the greatest. I want recognition. I want honors.”
Dexter climbed into the car and drove off.
Member Missionary Hunk was assigned to coordinate the open house for the public at the newly completed temple. He planned on being stationed in the celestial room, where he would quietly nod acknowledgments to community dignitaries. Afterwards there would be cookies and punch with guest speakers at the stake center to honor him. Honors to the Hunk.
“Dexter, you’ll be serving here. You’ll help put booties on the shoes of the visitors before they enter the temple for the tour,” the tour leader said.
Filled with disappointment, Dexter sat on the ground and assisted visitors with shoe coverings. No honor in this he thought. In fact it was uncomfortable and embarrassing. But there was something familiar about it. What was it?
He looked up at the temple spires and remembered the words carved on the side: “Holiness to the Lord.”
Holiness to the Lord. Again there was that nagging feeling of familiarity.
Suddenly, a scene came to his mind of a painting that hung at home. He who was greatest was washing the feet of the disciples.
Across the walkway of the temple two visitors were conversing.
“Say, who’s that kid with the glasses, the one who is putting on foot coverings. Is he someone special?”
“No, that’s just Dexter. He’s a nice, average kid.”
“But look at the way he’s treating visitors. It’s as though each person he helps is the most important person he’ll meet.”
On Saturday Dexter wrote a letter to his great-aunt requesting information on his grandfather’s birthplace. He gathered food, took it by an immigrant family’s home, and told them he’d be back the next day with two young men and a special book written in their own language. Later he wrapped up a clean Scout shirt and Scout handbook and quietly laid it on the doorstep of a widow’s home whose son hadn’t much money. He knocked and ran. The widow and son found the bag along with a note: From your friend.
Brother Magnuson was surprised that Saturday to get a call from Dexter. He volunteered to set up tables for the youth conference and offered to help with cleanup also.
Then Dexter called Julie and invited her to walk down to the park with him. She’d paint trees while he took photographs of the ducks.

A loud, whirring noise broke into the game Debbie and her little sister, Becca, were playing with their dolls. The sound was coming from the backyard. Debbie and Becca looked wide-eyed at each other and left the dolls, clothes, and furniture made from shoe boxes to run outside.
When they came to the backyard, they stopped and stared at the curious sight. Daddy was there with a strange machine the size of a lawn mower. It was ripping up the beautiful green grass of the backyard and leaving only ugly brown dirt behind.
“What is he doing?” Becca asked. Debbie didn’t answer. She could only shake her head and run to the kitchen to find Mommy.
Mommy had just finished peeling potatoes and was cleaning the peelings out of the kitchen sink. When Debbie stood beside her quietly sobbing, she stopped and asked, “What on earth is the matter? Are you hurt?”
Debbie swallowed her sobs and pointed to the backyard. “Why is Daddy ruining the grass?”
Mommy sighed with relief. “Oh, is that what’s bothering you?” She placed her hands on Debbie’s shoulders. “Honey, the prophet said that we need to plant a garden. He told us at the last general conference. So Daddy borrowed that tiller, and we’re going to obey the prophet and plant a garden.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know why the prophet wants us to. I guess he wants everyone to be self-sufficient.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means to be able to take care of ourselves. If we’re hungry, we can feed ourselves.”
Debbie sighed loudly as she went to the counter and sat on a stool. “Can’t we just go to the store?”
“No, we need to learn to follow the prophet—like the Saints that came across the plains. When they did what the prophet told them, they were blessed and they were able to bless others, too.”
Debbie looked at her mother but didn’t say anything. She knew that Daddy and Mommy had made up their minds.
Their backyard would no longer be a wonderful place to play. Now over half of it would be a big brown spot with garden plants, weeds, and bugs. She slid off the stool and went to her bedroom.
“Don’t worry, Debbie,” Mommy called after her. “I’m sure that we’ll have lots of blessings for following the prophet, too.”
In her room, Debbie just sat on her bed. Her dolls didn’t even look fun to play with anymore. Everything was ruined. She would never have fun at home again.
“Daddy says we’re going to plant carrots and corn, and I get to help with the weeding,” Becca chirped happily when she came into the bedroom.
Debbie frowned at her.
“It’s going to be a lot of fun,” Becca told her. “Daddy says there’s nothing better for growing bodies than fresh vegetables from the garden. He said he always had plenty of them when he was a little boy.”
“I’ll bet it’s the worst stuff we’ve ever eaten.” Debbie got off the bed and began putting away her dolls.
Becca quietly watched her for a minute, then asked, “Don’t you want to play anymore?”
“I never want to play anything again!” Debbie stuffed the last doll into a box and pushed it under the bed. She lay down and buried her face under her pillow, hoping anything Becca had to say wouldn’t come through the soft down.
“I’ll bet one day you’ll be glad we have a garden.”
Debbie pretended that she hadn’t heard and held as still as if she were sound asleep. She hoped that Becca wasn’t right. She hoped that she would always hate the garden and what it had done to the beautiful grass.
But as the weeks went by, Debbie began to change her mind. Tiny carrot plants with feathery leaves were beginning to grow in a straight row, and beside them grew beans with dark green leaves shaped like hearts. She had to admit to herself that she did like to see the plants grow bigger and bigger. It was even fun to pull the weeds and pretend that they were terrible beasts trying to steal all the water and food from the tender little plants.
Daddy showed her how to carefully water each row with the hose turned low so that the ground could soak up plenty of moisture and not be washed away.
Once, while she was supposed to be weeding, she pulled a pea pod from the vine and carefully opened it. Tiny round peas were inside. She tasted one. It was the best-tasting pea she had ever had.
“I saw that!” Becca ran up behind her.
Debbie whirled around. Seeing that she was caught, she held out the pod for her sister to try a pea.
Becca tasted one, and her eyes lit up. “Wow! Those are good!”
Debbie nodded. “I never thought peas could taste good enough to eat,” she admitted.
“So are you glad we have a garden?”
Debbie looked down and smiled. “I guess so.”
Several weeks later, Debbie learned to be really grateful for the garden. Daddy’s company had some trouble, and many of its employees lost their jobs. Daddy was one of them. He didn’t know how long it would be before he could find another job.
“It sure is a good thing we planted that garden,” Mommy remarked at the dinner table one evening. “Without it, we wouldn’t have any food to bottle and save for winter.”
“You mean we would be hungry?” Debbie asked in surprise.
“No.” Her mother shook her head. “We would just not be eating as well. Thanks to the garden, we haven’t had to buy as much food, and I’ve been saving some money. Now that we’re not sure when we’ll be getting any more, it’s a good thing we saved extra.”
“We have more food and extra money, all because of the garden,” Daddy explained. “This is a testimony to me that the Lord certainly does bless us when we follow the counsel He gives us through His prophet.”
“Yes,” Mommy added, “I knew He would bless us—I just didn’t think it would be this soon.”
Debbie quietly nibbled at an ear of corn. She was glad that her parents had decided to follow the prophet. She knew that if they hadn’t, their family wouldn’t have been blessed with the things they needed. She went to bed that night with a full stomach and a happy heart, knowing that the Lord had watched over her family and He was blessing them because they listened to the prophet.

The Lord blesses the guides with many faith-promoting experiences, but a few will go down in youth guide history—the ones that all the guides share whether it was their personal victory or the accomplishments of someone else.
Paul Whetten and Tim Penrod shared such an experience. They saw a man walking around the garden and asked him on a tour. He had been divorced recently and had come to the temple because he missed his family.
The importance of families is stressed in the tour, and the family is compared to the strong root system of the decorative sour orange trees found in the gardens. Tim told the man that the Church is based on the family unit and that we believe families are forever.
“The Church has so much to offer this man,” says Paul. “To see him ask for missionaries and to know that the gospel is something that could totally change his life—it’s hard to describe.”
After watching the youth guides in action, it’s easy to tell that these young people are serving the Lord with all their might, mind, and strength. All their efforts are directed toward their ultimate goal, and they strive every day to live up to the
“There is no greater joy than the joy we feel when we receive the assurance that we’re doing the Lord’s will. Ultimately, the only thing that really counts is to be worthy for him to say, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant.’”

I shut the little black book. A feeling of success surged within me. I actually had finished it. I had read the whole book. Now what was supposed to happen? I recalled the words that were written in one of the book’s last chapters. “And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost” (Moro. 10:4).
Okay. I knew that I was supposed to feel a burning in the bosom or an overwhelming knowledge of truth. At least that’s what other members of the Church said in their testimonies. They all felt it when they knew that the Church was true. They were sincere. So why wasn’t I feeling anything? Why wasn’t God appearing to me? How will I know if it’s true? How will I know if it’s not? How did they know?
I looked at the little black book. It was torn and tattered, the once-white pages now a stale yellow. The black leather cover bore ugly creases running up and down the length of it. The binding hung limply by the little glue that was left. I opened the cover and read the inscription. “To Michelle Glenetske, from Mom with love.”
When my mom first gave me this copy of the Book of Mormon, I treated it as a souvenir from her visit to Utah. I was too young then to really understand what it meant. Little did I know the true meaning behind those hard-to-read words. Little did I know the faith and courage it had taken the authors to record their day-to-day lives, their revelations, and their spiritual knowledge, even during times of pain and suffering. At that time I did not see, or care to see, the value of this little black book.
During early-morning seminary my freshman year, we read the Book of Mormon together as a class. We had read most of it, and now I had finished all of it—on my own. I did it without my parents or Church leaders pushing me. I did it to fulfill that unknown prompting that wandered within my soul. It was a quest for knowledge and understanding—and now I had finished the race. So where was my reward? Why wasn’t I feeling the way the Church leaders said I should? Was it really not true? I didn’t think I could bear the thought of the one thing that I based my life around not being true. I had to know.
I stepped into the warm spring air and wandered slowly to the big oak tree behind the shed. There I sat on the mossy earth, looking at the cloudless, blue sky. I silently put my little black book next to me and stared blankly into the large branches of the beautiful tree. I saw and felt nothing. I heard nothing except for the unceasing pounding against my chest. I began to pray in my mind. Is it true? I asked.
A few minutes later, a loud chirp broke me out of my reverie. I shook my head and then looked up. I saw a faint rustle among the leaves. But I heard a chirp of a mother robin, and soon heard many delicate cheeps. A feeling of total peace overcame me. “God made all these wonderful things for us,” I said in a whisper. “All things bright and beautiful, All creatures great and small.” I remembered the song I was taught in Primary. “All things wise and wonderful, The Lord God, made them all” (Children’s Songbook, no. 231). Tears formed in my eyes, threatening to spill at any moment.
I was finally realizing what God had done for me. I began to understand who I was. But more significantly, the knowledge of what I had been searching for had finally come. I wasn’t sure how it had. All I knew is I had experienced a feeling of peace that I had never felt before. I knew.

The night was freezing, with snow coming thick and fast. I was warm and safe in our home, and our three children were sleeping soundly. My husband was attending a bishopric meeting at the chapel some five miles (8 km) away. At about 8:30 there was an unexpected knock at the door. Immediately I felt strongly impressed that I was not to open the door. This certainty—this warning of danger—had never before come to me so strongly.
I was therefore quite stunned to hear my husband’s brother answer my query as to who was there. My husband’s only brother, Michael, a member of the Church, lived 70 miles (110 km) away. We had a very good relationship with him, and it was not surprising that he would visit, possibly expecting to stay a few days, as he had done many times before. It wasn’t even surprising that he hadn’t called, since the phone lines were down because of the weather. I should have felt safe and relieved, and it would have been normal for me to welcome him into our home on this cold winter night.
I could not understand the strong feelings I had or why I heard myself asking him to travel to the chapel to meet my husband. After a stunned silence my brother-in-law explained in a rather strange manner that he had traveled by train, then had caught the bus to our home, and now the snow was getting quite deep.
A powerful prompting continued to impress upon me that I must not, for any reason, open the door. I calmly explained that I was sorry and repeated my request for him to travel to the chapel to meet my husband.
For the remainder of the evening I reflected on my actions. Poor Michael had traveled several hours by train and bus, and on a cold winter evening I had turned him away. How could anyone be so uncaring? Yet at the same time I was unable to deny the strong witness that I was in danger and must not open my door.
It was late and I was almost asleep when my husband returned home. We discussed the situation very briefly, my husband confirming that his brother had met him and was now sleeping downstairs. I no longer felt any fear and slept very soundly.
The next morning I puzzled over how I could explain my actions to Michael. Would he be angry with me? I took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. “Michael, about last night … ,” I began but stopped when I saw that, far from being angry, he was actually smiling.
“I’m so glad you did not let us in last night,” he said. I had no idea until then that he had not been alone. He proceeded to tell me how he had met Steve, an old school friend, on the train, and it had taken him some time to realize that Steve was high on drugs. By then Michael had already told him where he was going. Steve became more and more aggressive during the journey. He explained he urgently needed money and a place to sleep. He forcibly accompanied Michael to our home with what my brother-in-law could describe only as “the most evil of intentions.”
“So, you see,” said Michael, “I stood outside the door, praying that you would not let us in. By the time we set off on the long trip to the chapel, Steve lost interest and said he would go and find some ‘action’ somewhere else.”
I will never know what might have befallen our family or me that winter night. I will just be eternally grateful to have learned one of the most valuable lessons here on earth—to obey the promptings of the Holy Spirit. Even when there appears to be no logical reason, we will be kept safe by relying on that still, small voice.

Haven, a 14-year-old from Utah, USA, decided to celebrate being a young woman in the Church by serving others.
“It started as a small idea,” she says. “My uncle went to Bangladesh on a humanitarian trip and learned about difficult things the people there were experiencing. I wanted to help them—so I looked on the JustServe app and got the idea to make homemade kits for the refugees there.”
Haven collected donations at her school, created a GoFundMe page, and even took out neighbors’ garbage cans to help raise money for the kits. “I take out about 22 garbage cans and 11 recycle cans every Monday and Tuesday,” she says. “I normally use the money I earn for my choir program and to save for a mission, but I decided to use my funds that month to help buy supplies instead.”
Haven then went out and bought all the materials she needed for the kits, including socks, gloves, scarfs, and hats. She assembled each kit and also got in contact with the director of Lifting Hands International to coordinate the delivery of the kits in Bangladesh.
“Putting the kits together took up the most time in my project. But every time I put a piece into the kit, I knew that it would go to someone in need and that they would be blessed for a long time by it.”
By the end of her project, Haven felt her confidence build in her ability to serve. “I learned from this how much help I can be if I try my hardest. I also felt compassion for the people I was helping, which helped me feel closer to the Savior and feel some of what He feels for us.”

During a spelling test I looked at someone’s paper and saw that I had spelled the word tease wrong. I changed my answer. During lunch that day my mom took me to my violin lesson. I felt bad about cheating, and even though I was scared to tell my mom about it, I did. She said I needed to tell the teacher what had happened. When we got back to school my mother asked if I needed her to come with me to tell my teacher. I told her no. I was scared for the rest of the school day. I kept walking up to my teacher to tell her and then going back to my desk because I was too scared. Finally at the end of the day I told my teacher what happened. She marked the answer wrong but then gave me a hug and told me, “Thank you for being honest.” I’m glad I told my teacher even though it was very hard. I felt much better afterward. I will never cheat on a test again. I will always try to be honest in everything I do.