Gospel Story Finder

President David O. McKay tells of a singular event that happened to him. After falling asleep, he said he “beheld in vision something infinitely sublime. “He saw a beautiful city, a great concourse of people dressed in white, and the Savior.

“The city, I understood, was his. It was the City Eternal; and the people following him were to abide there in peace and eternal happiness.

“But who were they?

“As if the Savior read my thoughts, he answered by pointing to a semicircle that then appeared above them, and on which were written in gold the words: ‘These Are They Who Have Overcome the World—Who Have Truly Been Born Again!’

“When I awoke, it was breaking day” (Cherished Experiences From the Writings of President David O. McKay, compiled by Clare Middlemiss, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1976, pages 59–60).

The year was 1951. The place was New York City. The Brigham Young University basketball team was in town to participate in the National Invitational Tournament (N.I.T.).
Coach Stan Watts and trainer Rod Kimball had just made their nightly bed check to make sure the players were all right. Shortly after, two older players slipped out of bed, dressed, and left the hotel by a side entrance. They were attracted by the big city night life and wanted to look around.
They were silent as they headed for the bright lights of a Times Square that was safer and cleaner in those days than it is today. Finally one stopped and said, “Do we really want to be doing this?” His friend replied, “You know, I’m having the same feelings. I’ve got too much respect for this team to be doing what we’re doing.” The first one said, “Let’s go back.” Both players returned to the hotel. Incidentally, BYU gained national honors that year by winning the N.I.T. for the first time. The New York press was high in its praise, and the team returned to Utah with a hero’s welcome.

I was a Mormon chaplain newly arrived in Vietnam and had been directed by a senior chaplain to teach a series of character guidance classes. A check through channels failed to produce a copy of the regular manual, but the assignment stood. The first lesson was scheduled to be given to Alpha Company immediately after they had finished their 12-hour-duty day. The class was to be taught in a quonset hut that was being used as a post office.
The company was waiting for me when I arrived—about a hundred of them in all, draped over mailbags, slouched over the few available chairs, leaning against the walls, or seated on the floor. Not having a lesson, I was free to move in any direction I wanted to go, so I posed this question for discussion: “What effect will the manner in which you conduct yourself in Vietnam have on your relationship with your wife or sweetheart when you return home?”
The initial response to the question consisted of snickers, whispering, and a quick turning or lowering of the head of any whose eyes I tried to catch. A prompt solution to their bashfulness was a randomly selected panel. Much to my chagrin, but to the delight of the GI’s, it was immediately apparent that my selection of a panel was less than inspired. They all consciously avoided saying anything that they thought the chaplain wanted them to say. They weren’t going to play goodie-goodie in front of their peers. Vietnam, they argued, was a twilight zone, and what they did there had no relationship with the real world. The last member of the panel to speak bragged about the double-standard by which he was living and concluded by saying, “What my wife doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” Someone challenged him by asking how he would feel about his wife living by that same standard. He tried to maintain his cavalier image, responding that if he didn’t know about it he didn’t care. Somehow that response did not come across with much conviction. Disdain was clearly written upon the faces of his audience and it became evident for the first time that they saw through the shallowness of the arguments that had been presented.
Then a rather unusual thing happened. A tall, broad-shouldered fellow who had been sitting quietly in the back of the room stood and asked if he could speak. Silence swept across the room, evidencing that he commanded respect. He did not raise his voice, but all heard what he had to say. He told about his fiancé and the love they shared. He spoke of the beautiful relationship that was theirs, and then with tears streaming down his face, he told how all that had been destroyed by their violation of the law of chastity. He spoke of a betrayed trust and expressed his hope that someday, somehow, they could gain again the feeling that once was theirs. The effect was dramatic. I waited a few moments for it to have its full impact and then added the testimony of a Mormon elder.
With the announcement that the class was dismissed, a few of the fellows got up and walked out, but the better part of the company remained. A group gathered around to ask more questions. A number expressed themselves to the effect that they had never heard a priest or minister “give it so straight before” or even take a position on the question of morality. One young GI, curious to know what denomination I represented, asked, “What kind of chaplain are you?” Before I could answer, the fellow standing behind him responded loud enough for all to hear, “He is a chaplain’s chaplain!”
Reflecting on that experience as I returned to my quarters that night, I came to a greater realization of our responsibility as Latter-day Saints. The world is replete with “many kinds of voices,” voices that sound “an uncertain sound,” and yet there are many who are ready to respond to the banners of truth. We are of Israel, the English equivalent of which means “prince of God,” or “soldier of God.” We live in times when good is made to appear as evil and evil as good. Prophetically, they are described as times of “false and vain and foolish doctrines.” They are times that call for courage. They are times that call for quiet example, and they are times that call for bold denunciation of those things that sap character and destroy nations. They are times for soldiers of God.

Sister Linda K. Burton told the story of a family who moved into a new house. The yard didn’t have a fence around it. The father put stakes in the corners of the yard and tied strings around the stakes to mark the edge of the yard. He told his five children that if they stayed inside the boundaries, they would be safe. The children listened to their dad, even when a ball rolled past the string! They were safe and happy.

One way in particular that Mallory and Macie had to rely on the Lord was in recommending their counselors and others for callings in Relief Society. It was a rather daunting task at first, considering they were as new to the ward as they were to the calling and thus hardly knew anyone. Each of them prayed and then went door-to-door trying to get to know the girls in her Relief Society. Mallory says, “I asked the Lord to help me seek those who would be able to grow in the callings and also be able to help the other girls grow.” After that it was a matter of being in tune with the Spirit to know who felt right for the position. She was grateful to be able to counsel with her bishop, who holds the keys to approve callings in the ward.
Through her prayers, Macie has been able to touch the life of at least one girl through inspiration. “One of the girls I had recommended for a calling came up to me and was in tears. She told me that she had been praying for something and felt like she needed to get involved. This calling was what she needed. I know the Lord was the one who called her, but it made me feel good that I could help her out.”
“One of my favorite things to do during Relief Society is to sit up at the front during the opening hymn and look at each girl’s face,” says Mallory. “It’s a different perspective. You see them all as equal—they are all great people. And I’ve learned that everyone has something to offer, which is a perspective that I have often prayed for.”
Mallory considers being able to see the girls through the Lord’s eyes as one of the biggest blessings of her calling. But she says that you don’t need to be the Relief Society president to feel that. Anyone can pray and ask Heavenly Father for the ability to see people as children of God and appreciate what they have to offer.
“It’s been really humbling,” says Mallory of receiving this calling. “I look around and see so many great girls, and I realize any of them could be a Relief Society president with the Lord’s help, because we are instruments in His hands.”
After all, you never know just when the Lord might call on you to lead, whether it be in your Young Women class presidency or as president of the Relief Society. Macie and Mallory admit they were surprised, but that hasn’t stopped them from accepting the opportunity to serve.
And now both of them also have a new perspective on Relief Society.
When she first moved into Relief Society at home, Macie thought it was a challenge to fit in with the older women. Mallory’s home ward tried to ease the transition by periodically inviting the Laurels to Relief Society lessons and activities, so she had a taste of what it was like, but in the back of her mind she still had a fear that they were going to spend a lot of time sewing. However, both Mallory and Macie now understand the reasons for programs like home, family, and personal enrichment and are able to gear them toward the women their age.
“I have a greater appreciation for Relief Society now,” Macie says. “I don’t think it’s just an old ladies society anymore.”
And just as both girls turned to their mothers for words of advice and comfort in their new callings, Mallory says that with the right attitude, the younger women can learn from the older women. Then, that sisterhood she and Macie have come to embrace can be extended across the generations.
For help with the transition to Relief Society, go to www.lds.org and click on Serving in the Church, Relief Society, and then Transitioning into Womanhood.

I want to tell you of an incident that happened many years ago. Two of our sons, then little boys, were wrestling on the rug, and they had reached that line which separates laughter from tears. So I worked my foot carefully between them and lifted the older one back to a sitting position on the rug. As I did so, I said, “Hey there, you little monkeys. You’d better settle down.”
To my surprise he folded his little arms, his eyes swimming with deep hurt, and protested, “I not a monkey, Daddy, I a person!”
The years have not erased the overwhelming feeling of love I felt for my little sons. I was taught a profound lesson by my little boys. Many times over the years his words have slipped back into my mind, “I not a monkey, Daddy, I a person!” I was taught a profound lesson by my little boy.
Now the cycle of life has moved swiftly on, and both of those sons have little boys of their own, who teach their fathers lessons. They now watch their children grow as we watched them. They are coming to know something as fathers that they could not be taught as sons. Perhaps now they know how much their father loves them. Hopefully, they know as well why prayers begin “Our Father who art in heaven.”
All too soon their children will be grown with little “persons” of their own, repeating the endless cycle of life.

Just about every day, you can find Stella and her family visiting the landlady in their apartment building. They aren’t related to her, but Stella and her brother call her “Grandma Cecilia.”
Stella says, “She is 83 years old, and she doesn’t have any children of her own.” Stella and her family noticed she needed help and decided to “adopt” her.
Stella always lends a helping hand by sweeping and mopping Grandma Cecilia’s floor. Having a clean home is an important way to stay healthy. So Stella is doing something that really helps Grandma Cecilia. “Jesus Christ served others,” says Stella, “so that inspired me to serve her. I know that Jesus Christ and His Father are happy when I serve.”
Stella followed Jesus by helping her neighbor. Turn the page to read a story about how Jesus helped others.

While I was in the mission field a few years ago, I observed one of the missionaries who always had people to teach and baptize. Wherever he went, he went with such commitment, happiness, and love for others that he was accepted. It was said of him that when he would come back into an area, many of the people would peek through their windows just to get a glimpse of this unusual young man. Though he was not particularly gifted in language skills, he succeeded in bearing a strong testimony to thousands of people.
Again, like my friend, he only did what everybody could do, but usually doesn’t.

She wore overalls to school. This was unheard of in 1936 when I was eight years old. And that wasn’t her only crime.
“Look at what ‘Overalls’ brought for lunch,” one of my friends whispered. I watched the girl pull out two slices of bread—no meat, no cheese, no peanut butter, no sandwich spread. Strange.
No one sat by her or talked to her, so I didn’t either.
That changed one cold, blustery, winter day when the snow was four feet deep with twelve-foot drifts. Because I lived in a small mining town 10 miles away from school, I usually left class early to catch the bus that the high school students also rode. But on this day my teacher made an announcement: “None of you will leave this room until you have handed in your projects and cleaned up after yourselves.” I watched the clock, hurrying as fast as I could. As soon as I finished, I grabbed my coat and raced after the bus. But it was no use. Groaning, I watched it drive off without me. My family had no telephone, and I could think of nothing to do but start walking.
I wrapped my hand-me-down brown coat tightly around me, lowered my head, and set off up the icy road. I had no hat, no gloves, and no boots. Then, as now, a few drivers thought it great sport to splash people, so I was soon soaked.
At the time there was an epidemic of scarlet fever, and nearly every house along the road had a quarantine sign on it, meaning that no one could enter or leave. Families without the disease did not welcome strangers for fear of catching it, so I had no chance of going inside to get warm. One very nice lady came out and gave me a warm hat, though, and said she was sorry that I couldn’t come in.
Five miles into my trek, I was so stiff and cold that I was beginning to doubt I could make it. Just then, two young ladies came running out from a farmhouse. “Would you like to come in?”
I nodded, and they helped me through the door. Inside, they hung my wet clothes by the fire to dry and wrapped me in a warm blanket. They asked me where I lived and then disappeared. Their mother spoke to me gently to calm my fears as she prepared supper. Before long, who should come through the door but the last person on earth I expected—the overall girl!
“I was in the barn doing chores and I saw you walking,” she said. “I told my sisters that you go to my school and that you don’t have scarlet fever.”
“Thanks.” I couldn’t believe how relieved I felt to see someone I knew. We talked until suppertime, and then her mother invited us into the kitchen. I especially liked the large slices of fresh homemade bread and homemade butter. Mmmmmmmm, good!
I learned later that her sisters had gone out and stood in the cold, waiting and watching for someone to come looking for me. When my parents drove slowly past, they were waved down and brought inside. Was I ever glad to see them!
I learned a lot about the overall girl that day and decided that she was better than all the snobs at school put together (including me). From then on I made it a point to sit with my new friend at lunch. Sometimes she would even trade her delicious bread-and-butter sandwiches with me.

Fruit punch, dainty cakes, and lacy dresses were soundly defeated by bicycles, apples, and jeans as the Nephi, Utah, Young Women and their mothers voted for a pedal-power retreat.
Taking cue from the stake sports director’s suggestion that the women’s programs needed more activity, the mothers and daughters in the Nephi Stake scheduled a six-mile ride from the stake house to the airport and back. After the trip, most mothers agreed that they were grateful the course was flat and their tires weren’t.
A Nephi City policeman whose daughter and wife were riding with the group was on the scene to direct any traffic jams and, if necessary, revive puffing bikers with resuscitation gear.
The halfway point meant punch and apples and a short time-out for weak thighs and wobbly knees. Nearing the end of the course there were lots of red faces, but they knew they’d be a lot redder if they rode back in an accompanying truck via four wheels instead of two. One daughter had both her mother and grandmother riding with her, and the three generations were willing to take on any challengers.
Back at the stake house, mothers and daughters were served a well-earned lunch followed by a short program. There were even awards for bikers: “Lifesavers” for the most helpful; a “Powerhouse” bar for the speediest pedaler; “Snickers” candy for the biggest giggler; a “Rally” bar for the most impressive last effort; and a package of “Rolaids” for a mother who took a turn with a little too much enthusiasm and landed in a ditch.

“How are we going to make it to church today?” Ellie’s little sister, Peppa, asked. “There’s so much rain!”
“Don’t worry,” Ellie said. “We’re brave!”
Ellie helped Peppa button her coat. Then she pulled on her own rain boots.
Ellie and Peppa walked outside with Mami and Papi. It was raining harder than ever. The wind turned their umbrella inside out. Ellie didn’t feel quite so brave anymore.
“What should we do?” Ellie asked. It was too stormy to walk to the bus.
“We’ll take a taxi instead,” Papi said.
“Good idea,” Mami said. “Let’s go!”
They walked down the flooded street. No taxis or cars drove past them. Even the panadería (bakery) was closed.
Finally they saw the area where taxis parked to pick people up. But the first taxi space was empty.
“Oh no!” Peppa said.
“Está bien. It’s OK,” said Ellie. “There could be one. We just can’t see it yet.”
They walked closer. The next parking space was empty too.
“Now what?” asked Peppa.
“I know,” said Ellie. “Let’s pray.”
The girls whispered a prayer. “Nuestro Padre Celestial, please help us find just one taxi so that we can make it to church today. We’re trying to choose the right, and this rain is making it hard. En el nombre de Jesucristo, amén.” Ellie was still learning Spanish, so she mixed English and Spanish together.
They walked a little more. The next parking spot was empty too.
“Maybe we should turn around and go home,” Papi shouted over the wind.
“Our feet are soaked!” said Mami.
“Let’s just go a little bit farther,” said Ellie. “We just need one taxi.”
Now they could see the last parking spot.
There, with its green light on, was a taxi!
Ellie and Peppa hopped in the taxi. Mami helped them smooth down their hair. “We’re sorry to get your seats wet,” Papi told the driver.
They arrived at the chapel and greeted their friends with besos and abrazos (kisses and hugs).
“I can’t believe we found a taxi,” Mami said. “¡Que suerte!”
“It wasn’t luck,” Ellie said. “Peppa and I prayed that Heavenly Father would help us get to church. And He listened!”

I close with the example of a new friend, someone we met a few weeks ago while visiting the Zambia Lusaka Mission.
Elder Joseph Ssengooba is from Uganda. His father died when he was seven. At age nine, with his mother and relatives unable to care for him, he was on his own. At age 12, he met the missionaries and was baptized.
Joseph told me of his first day at church: “After sacrament meeting, I thought it was time to go home, but the missionaries introduced me to Joshua Walusimbi. Joshua told me that he was going to be my friend, and he handed me a Children’s Songbook so I wouldn’t have to go into Primary empty-handed. In Primary, Joshua put an extra chair right next to his. The Primary president invited me to the front and asked the whole Primary to sing for me ‘I Am a Child of God.’ I felt very special.”
The branch president took Joseph to the Pierre Mungoza family, and that became his home for the next four years.
Eight years later when Elder Joseph Ssengooba began his mission, to his great surprise his trainer was Elder Joshua Walusimbi, the boy who had made him feel so welcome on his first day in Primary. And his mission president? He is President Leif Erickson, the little boy who stayed away from Primary because he was terrified about giving a talk. God loves His children.

One day my friend Viviana and I heard about an important fireside from our Young Women leaders. They encouraged us to go, even though it was far away from where we lived.
We were not familiar with how to get there by bus, and we couldn’t afford a taxi. However, we trusted in the Lord and went on the bus. On the ride, my friend saw someone she knew, and the woman suggested that we catch the metro at the next stop. So we did. When we got off, we were already quite close to the stake center. And since the metro ride happened to be free because of its recent grand opening, we were able to use that money to pay for a taxi to our destination.
After we got to the fireside, we had a problem: we were out of money! We didn’t tell anyone, but when the fireside ended, our bishop came and gave each of us a tithing envelope with money in it. He said, “I’m afraid you put more money into your envelopes than you had recorded on the donation slip, and here is what you overpaid.”
At that moment, Viviana and I embraced each other. We knew that because of our diligence in following our leaders and paying our tithing, our Heavenly Father was blessing us. That experience reminds me how much He is aware of me and loves me. I know that when we obey His commandments in faith, He will bless us.
Maria C., Venezuela

Many years later, in pursuit of my business career, I was invited by a client to provide insurance coverage for a new venture he was launching. When I arrived at the location, I learned that it was to be a nightclub.
As we passed through reception, entering the main area, I was impressed by the decor. The furnishings and fittings, curtains and carpeting were well coordinated, providing a most pleasing setting. This was not what I had expected to find after having been told the purpose for which the venue was to be used. As I sat with the proprietor, noting the necessary information, an employee approached and asked if he could test the systems.
My client gave his approval. Suddenly the serene setting was transformed as the room lighting faded to be replaced by flashing lights of multiple colors and excessively loud music. The scene of tranquility was immediately shattered.
It was impossible to communicate under such circumstances, so we walked back to the reception area. Following further discussion and because of what I had ex-perienced, I did not feel comfortable to proceed, so I referred my client to a specialist in this field of insurance. To this day I vividly recall the dramatic transformation that occurred with shafts of light and the pulsating beat of loud music penetrating the darkened room.

I remember a personal experience that helped me learn to replace doubt with hope. I was serving as a stake president at the time. My children were small. My wife and I owned a tortilla-making business, and we worked long hours.

One of those nights, when my wife and I had to make tortillas from midnight until 3:00 a.m., three young men came to our shop. All three were high on drugs. Two of them wore ski masks and long raincoats. The raincoats hid their weapons. They threatened us, put us inside the shop, and closed the door. One stood guard outside, repeatedly shouting, “Kill them! Kill them!”

One of the young men put the barrel of his gun against my temple and forced me to lie down. The other put the barrel of his gun to my wife’s chest. I prayed that my children would not become orphans, and the Lord protected us. The robbers finally locked us in the bathroom and disappeared, driving away in my truck.

We escaped and called for help. The police came and so did my brother. As soon as possible, we took my wife home. Then my brother and I went looking, unsuccessfully, for my truck. Feeling very sad, I returned home at 5:00 a.m.

To my surprise, my wife and children were not there. A neighbor told me that my four-year-old daughter was suffering stomach pain, and they had rushed her to the hospital. Knowing that we would desperately need money for her care, I felt I had no choice but to return to the tortilla shop and fill the orders for the day. Since my wife and I were the only workers, I was alone, rushing like crazy, kneading, putting dough in the hopper, adjusting the size, running back and forth to finish tortillas and wait on customers.

By now it was 8:00 a.m. I began to reflect on the events of the night. The question went through my mind, “If you are the stake president, why is all this happening to you?”

I pushed the malicious thought aside and prayed for strength. Then I heard a voice behind me: “President.” It was my bishop and a brother from the ward, my home teachers.

The bishop said, “We don’t know how to make tortillas, so we can’t help you here. But don’t worry about your truck, your wife, your sick daughter, or your other children. You stay here and we will help you with the rest.” My eyes filled with tears of gratitude.

They took charge of everything but tortillas. That afternoon when I returned home, I found my house clean and tidy, my shirts ironed, and food waiting for me. No one was home, but I knew that the Relief Society had been there. The police had found my truck, and someone from the ward had paid to get it released.

I quickly went to see my wife and daughter. The bishop had been there and had given my daughter a blessing. She had appendicitis, but everything was under control.

As my wife and I talked, we were impressed that the bishop had not used fast offerings or items from the bishops’ storehouse to assist us. Rather, he used the resources and mercy of the members of our ward.

A few days later, while my daughter was recuperating and my wife was helping me in the tortilla shop, three women arrived. They were the mothers of the young thieves and had come to offer their apologies. They explained that the police had caught their sons. Later these mothers practically dragged their sons into the shop to ask forgiveness, and we forgave them.

Life couldn’t have been finer for Carlos Espínola in 1967. Baptized at age seventeen, he had served a mission in Uruguay and was now pursuing a degree at Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. He was also earning what he considered to be an enormous salary, writing and preparing materials for the Peace Corps on how to teach the Guaraní and Spanish languages—both of which are spoken in Paraguay.
To make the dream complete, Nelly, his fiancée from Uruguay, was ready to join him. They would marry in the Salt Lake Temple, he would finish his degree, and they would settle down to a wonderful life in the United States.
But, unexplainably, Carlos felt that something wasn’t quite right. Seeking spiritual direction, he asked for a patriarchal blessing. “My blessing said that I was to help my own people to know the Church, and that I was going to be a leader among them,” he says. “When I received that blessing, I thought a lot about those words.”
He fasted and prayed to know how to interpret the blessing. Finally, “after receiving the confirmation of the Spirit, I felt that this was not the place for me. I felt that the Lord really needed me in South America. So I made the decision to return.”
Even though his visa was good for another year, he gave it up—along with his apartment, his furniture, his schooling, and his job—and went home. He and Nelly were married in Uruguay. There he continued his schooling and earned two degrees—one in business administration and another in construction. And he got a job for less than a third of the salary he was making in the United States.
“My friends told me I was crazy. But I said, ‘No, I am happy, because I want to do it.’ And I knew the reasons I was doing it. The blessings we have received by staying here have brought to pass many promises in my patriarchal blessing.”
In 1979, Carlos became the first stake president in Paraguay. Nearly ten years later, he became the second Paraguayan to serve as a mission president. (He opened the Chile Antofagasta Mission.) And he has been blessed professionally. For twenty years, he has worked for the Presiding Bishop’s Office in Uruguay and Paraguay. He is now regional manager for the Presiding Bishopric in Paraguay.
“We are very satisfied with our lives here,” says Sister Espínola. “For us, the brothers and sisters in the Church are like family. The Lord has greatly blessed us and our children spiritually.” She and Carlos were sealed in the temple and have four children: Alejandra, 22; Alvaro, 20; Ariel, 16; and Arturo, 14. They speak of rich experiences they’ve shared as a family, both on their mission and at home.
“Our children are our best inheritance,” says Carlos. “They are having experiences that are helping them gain their own testimonies. I can see that they are living on their own light.”

Tyler’s example inspired Sarah to start thinking about serving her own mission. “I realized how many people my brother helped come unto Christ, and I also saw how much he had come unto Christ himself. I wanted to have similar experiences,” Hermana Christensen says. “I started to seriously study the gospel and found that the more my testimony and my relationship with my Savior grew, the more I wanted to share what I had.”
Sarah made the choice to put her construction business on hold and serve the Lord. This decision has given her powerful new insights.
“The number one thing my mission has taught me is that the gospel completely changes lives,” Hermana Christensen says. “Growing up in the Church made it hard for me to see how significant the gospel was in my life.
“Here on my mission, I am surrounded by people who do not know about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. When they learn that they are children of God and He has a plan for them, it changes their lives. It is the coolest thing to witness and be a part of. I had an understanding of that before my mission, but now I know that the gospel of Jesus Christ is crucial for joy in this world and in the world to come.”
Hermana Christensen (right) and her companion Hermana Taylor (left) love to serve any way they can.
Photograph courtesy of Sarah Christensen
Though she misses being able to build houses while she serves, Hermana Christensen doesn’t regret her choice. “Of course, there is potential growth that my business could have made while I’m a full-time missionary,” she says. “But I know the Lord will bless my sacrifice of leaving it behind for a bit. My business can wait, but the Lord’s work cannot!”

By candle glow and fireplace glare, 13-year-old Erastus Snow scrutinized the two overnight guests in his Vermont home. Orson Pratt and Lyman Johnson, both about age 21, told about a new church barely two years old. Erastus’s parents listened intently, knowing that two of their married sons had already converted to the LDS church. Erastus, familiar with the Bible despite his youth, liked what he heard and then experienced something powerful: “They bore their testimonies, which I readily received,” he said; “the Holy Ghost descended upon me, bearing witness that it was true, and that they were messengers of God.”

You can’t help but like Andrea* the second you meet her. She’s warm and friendly and fun, and she knows how to make you feel good about yourself.
But she wasn’t always like that.
For a long time, she carried around a dark and tragic secret that she could confess to no one. She cried a lot. She was usually depressed. She withdrew from people—wasn’t close to anyone, and didn’t have the self-confidence to excel in school or anything else. Andrea had been sexually abused when she was younger.
“I thought I had committed a terrible sin,” she said. “I thought it was too gross to tell anyone. I felt disgusting and totally worthless, until a very understanding bishop explained to me that it wasn’t my fault, that the Lord still loved me, and that I could get help.”
The help Andrea got, which included professional and religious counseling, enabled her to put those traumatic experiences in the past and become emotionally and spiritually healthy again.

Andrea has gone through all these stages, and despite the problems in her past, she’s able to lead a happy, fulfilling life. Others like her who have experienced sexual abuse can recover in the same way. It is important for them to realize that they have a right not to be abused, and that they need to get help if it happens. They need to know that they are not at fault, that they are not impure, nor are they any less chaste. And most of all, they need to know that Heavenly Father still loves them, has great hope for them, and has provided ways for them to recover.

I used to be the same way. I reserved my best behavior for people I didn’t live with and let my family have what was left over. My mom and I fought constantly for years. I exploded over stupid things, and I was grouchy all the time. I’m a little older now and married. I don’t even know where most of my friends are, let alone what they’re doing. The people I thought were most important to me are gone. Now I realize that my best friends are at home.

Friends come and go, but families stay forever. Literally! Eternity will be much more fun if we’re friends with the people closest to us.

Start out small. Smile, give compliments, and express your love! When something makes you angry, pause and ask yourself, “Is this worth getting angry about?” Nine times out of ten it won’t be. Remember that your moods are your own and that you can set them. You can make yourself be cheerful. And it gets easier with practice.

You’ll find that a change in your mood and behavior will affect everyone in the house.

Ruth Boston, 21Salt Lake City, Utah
I know just how you feel! I go through that sometimes too. It’s sad how much we take our family for granted. We can’t act that way toward our friends for fear of losing them, but we know our family can’t go anywhere! Try to be more patient. Get more rest. Start your days with a prayer to Heavenly Father to help you be cheerful and loving. Then let your first words be kind ones! Try serving them, and don’t forget to let them know you love them! Good luck!
Wendy McGraw, 16Edmond, Oklahoma
When you go home, put yourself in a positive frame of mind. Tell your brother or sister that they look good. Compliment your mother on her cooking. Ask your dad if he had a good day at work. You’ll find that you enjoy being at home a lot more, and your family will love being with you.
Dawn Whetten, 13Plano, Texas
Just a couple of months ago I too was great to my friends, but when I came home, I would pick fights over the littlest subjects with my parents. I began to be depressed with my actions. I love my parents very much, and I wanted to find a solution to my problem. I found that prayer, scripture reading, attending and really taking Church meetings to heart, and speaking to my parents about my problem soon led me to the path back to being the real daughter of God that I should have been all along. I’m not perfect yet, but then again, neither is any of us. So just keep trying!
Laura Kim Wright, 17Franklin, Indiana
Well, if you want to change, that’s the first step. Now doing it is sometimes awkward. With my friends I always felt comfortable. They knew my secrets, and I knew theirs, but at home there was a distance, and it took help from both sides to pull us together.

I looked at what made me happy with my friends and did the same things at home. I shared secrets, stories, experiences, and found even my parents had some stories to tell. As soon as I stopped talking and saying me and I all the time and started listening and using words like you and us, I found my best friends were my family. It hasn’t solved every problem, but it sure started smoothing the big ones out. Knowing that my family, especially my parents, are my best friends and love me in spite of my mistakes and faults really made home and family a place I wanted to be.
Name withheld
First of all write down something good about each person in your family and keep this to refer to. Set time aside for your family so that you can do something fun together.
Talk to your family. They can help, and they love you very much. Remember when all else fails or whenever you need help, your Father in Heaven is always there and waiting for you to call upon him.
Wendy Jo Fackrell, 17Nampa, Idaho