Gospel Story Finder

When my sister, Nancy, and I were teenagers, we regularly attended our local church. But we began to feel that something was missing, so we decided to investigate other churches.
That summer my sister and brother visited a booth at the Canadian National Exhibition, where missionaries were showing a movie called Ancient America Speaks. After watching the movie, my sister and brother signed up to receive a free copy of the Book of Mormon. I can still remember the excitement in my sister’s voice as she announced to my mother and me that Christ had visited the American continent.
The missionaries brought a Book of Mormon to my sister and asked her if she would like to learn more about the Church. That was how we were both taught the gospel.
More than a year after Nancy and I were baptized, she began dating a young man named Luke. He had a bubbly personality and seemed to radiate love and excitement. At the time Nancy met him, he was looking for direction in his life. When Nancy told him about the gospel, he was eager to take the missionary discussions. His sister, Leonarda, also was interested in being taught.
Although Luke and Leonarda agreed with most of what the missionaries taught them, they had trouble accepting that Joseph Smith was a prophet. The missionaries told them that once they gained a testimony of Joseph Smith, then everything else—the Book of Mormon, the restoration of the gospel, and the gospel principles taught by the prophets—would fall into place.
When Luke and Leonarda met with the elders again, the discussion centered on Joseph Smith. One of the elders suggested that we should each take a turn asking Heavenly Father if Joseph Smith was a prophet and then listen silently for a minute for the answer.
I won’t forget the feeling of peace that came into that room and touched each of our hearts as the Spirit bore witness to each of us that Joseph Smith was a prophet of the Lord. Luke accepted baptism, and Leonarda was baptized a few years later with her parents’ approval.
Since that night, the Spirit has borne witness to me many times of the truthfulness of other gospel principles. But this experience stands out in my mind because it was one of my first experiences with personal revelation from a Heavenly Father who loves me. Truly, for us that night, everything did fall into place.

In 1998 I was enjoying being a young mother. But I panicked one day when I realized that my six-month-old son made whistling sounds when he breathed and couldn’t swallow anything. The doctor immediately diagnosed bronchiolitis, a swelling of the smallest air passages in the lungs usually caused by a viral infection. He prescribed both medication and physical therapy.
The visits to the physical therapist were a trial for my son and me. My son was uncomfortable being moved in every direction, and I worried that the therapy caused him pain. I took courage, however, when the therapist explained the benefits of therapy.
Despite the medical treatment and the therapy, my son’s condition didn’t improve. He ate little, and the whistling continued. The doctor prescribed 5 more sessions with the physical therapist in addition to the 10 we had already attended.
While I waited during the 13th session, I read an article posted in the doctor’s office titled “Bronchiolitis Kills.” As I read, I realized that my son could die. I felt as though my heart was in a vise. At the end of the session, the therapist told me that my son’s condition wasn’t improving. I’m not sure how I got home safely because tears blurred my vision.
I called my husband and then began to pray. I told my Heavenly Father that if His will was to take my son, He would need to give me the strength to bear it.
After my prayer I asked myself what we could do in addition to the prayers we had uttered and the priesthood blessings our son had received. I glanced at the bookshelf and saw a copy of the Liahona (L’Étoile at the time). I opened it at random, searching for help, and found an article titled “I Fasted for My Baby.” Then I clearly heard a voice say, “You have not fasted for your child.”
I had not, so I immediately began to fast for him. At the therapy session the next day, I was still fasting. After examining my son, the therapist looked surprised.
“Madame,” he told me, “your son is fine. I don’t understand, but he doesn’t need any more sessions.”
I couldn’t hold back the tears of joy. Returning home, I knelt to thank God for His mercy and love. I called my husband to tell him the good news. Then I ended my fast in peace, not doubting the intervention of the Lord.
My son was healed thanks to faith, prayer, priesthood blessings, and fasting. I have no doubt that my Heavenly Father loves me and that He also loves my son. I am confident that He will continue to help us overcome our difficulties.

Times were difficult in 1931, and everyone in eleven-year-old Evard’s family had to work hard and help each other so that they could have the things they needed. Even Evard’s mother helped earn money by cleaning people’s homes.
Evard loved his parents and his five brothers and one sister. Even though they didn’t have very much, he was happy. One day, he looked at himself and realized that his overalls were ragged and worn. He knew that he would soon need a new pair. He also knew that his parents had very little money, so he didn’t want to ask them for some new overalls.
His parents had taught him that there was One to whom he could always turn for help, no matter what, so he knelt by his bed and prayed. He told Heavenly Father about his need for a pair of overalls and asked for His help. Evard had great faith and knew that somehow his prayer would be answered.
The next day, his mother went to clean a woman’s house. The woman had been cleaning out her closets and had found three pairs of nice overalls that her children had outgrown. She asked Evard’s mother if someone in her family could use them. Mother gladly took the overalls home.
Evard was excited when she showed him the overalls. He quickly tried them on. Each pair was a perfect fit! He knew that Heavenly Father loved him and had answered his prayer.

Eric Coulson was the only Latter-day Saint in his high school, and everyone knew it because he was the student-body president.
In his leadership position, he found a way to introduce the whole senior class to the Church.
Every year the graduating class from his high school takes a trip to Washington, D.C. Eric checked with the principal, then arranged for the bus drivers to take the class to see the Washington Temple one night during their visit. While there, Eric explained the purposes of the temple. Everyone was impressed with the sight of the temple lit at night.
Eric is a member of the Boone Ward, Des Moines Iowa Stake, where he served as first assistant in his priests quorum.

Training to be a helicopter pilot isn’t an opportunity that most people get. But when Pierre O., 24, decided to enlist in the French Army, he got just that. Now in his second year of the four-year training, Pierre is doing his best to live as an example of the believers, despite his environment.
Stationed about an hour and a half outside of Bordeaux, in southwestern France, Pierre is far from his friends, family, and hometown of Rennes. The nearest meetinghouse is an hour away, meaning that he doesn’t get to interact much with members during the week. “It’s not easy to be a member of the Church in the army,” Pierre says, “because there are a lot of temptations and it’s really just two opposite worlds. You’re judged a lot in the army not based on what you do but on who you are.” Pierre wants those around him to see that he doesn’t drink alcohol, smoke, view pornography, or party—commonplace activities in the army—because of who he is: a member of the Church. While he struggles to earn the respect of those around him, prayer and scripture study help keep his testimony strong. “I try to not go to sleep without having read my scriptures first,” he explains, “and I try to pray whenever I can.”
“Reading the scriptures and praying helped me a lot during all of my schooling to know that God exists, that He is there—without really understanding the rest of the gospel,” Pierre explains. “I just knew that God was there, and so that helped me to stay on the right path.”
That foundation of scripture study sustained Pierre throughout all his schooling and even now through his army training. Before enlisting, Pierre served a mission in Montreal, Quebec, Canada, where his testimony and understanding of the gospel were solidified.
“The scriptures are one of the most tangible ways Heavenly Father answers us,” he says.
Through his daily prayer and scripture study, Pierre is able not only to receive inspiration but also to be an example to those in his army unit. While he and his classmates may not have much in common besides their national pride, Pierre knows that by following the teachings of the scriptures, he will be someone they can respect because of and not in spite of his beliefs.

I spoke the other day with one of the most enthusiastic converts I have ever met. We were in Chicago for a big meeting which brought together some 20,000 members of the Church in the great United Center, where the Chicago Bulls play basketball. Randy Chiostri, a new member of the Church, drove us about while we were there. All during those long rides in the Chicago traffic he was talking about missionary work, praising the Church as the most wonderful institution in the world, talking of the gospel and the plan of salvation as the greatest thing that had ever come into his life. Randy’s introduction to the Church came when he dated Nancy. He took her to dinner. On the first date she said she drank no liquor. She would not take wine. How curious, he thought. She said it was against her faith. Smoking was also against her faith. Her faith became the subject of their conversations.
He married her on the one-year anniversary of that first date. But he could not accept her religion. It took him almost eight years to overcome his doubts.
One pair of missionaries after another taught him. Finally, he was touched by the Spirit. He was baptized last March.
He visited the Hill Cumorah. He visited Nauvoo. He said: “I visited 17 temples. I visited them on the outside but not on the inside.” He went to every temple he could get to. He now looks forward to the day that he will visit them on the inside. That first inside visit, in Chicago, will be in April. He will receive his endowment, and then the next day he and Nancy will be sealed.
After his baptism, Randy was immediately put to work. He was ordained to the Aaronic Priesthood. After being a member for about nine months, he was ordained an elder in the Melchizedek Priesthood. He loves the Church. He is consumed with his love of the gospel. It has become the major interest of his life. He cannot stop talking about it. Each night and morning he gets on his knees and thanks the Lord for the wondrous thing that has come into his life.
I learned a few things from Randy as I listened to him. The first is the tremendous power of the example of a member of the Church. It was Nancy’s firm but quiet stance on that first date concerning no liquor and no wine which caught his attention. The missionaries worked on him through the years, but she was the key that unlocked his heart to a love for the Lord, and his mind to an understanding of the plan of salvation.
The second thing I learned is that you never give up when there is the slightest spark of interest. It took him nearly eight years to come into the Church. His mind was open, but there was a lurking fear over taking so bold a step. He was setting aside the traditions of his forebears and stepping into something new and strange and difficult to understand.
Third, he was put to work immediately following his baptism. His bishop saw that he had something challenging to do. Was he qualified to handle the assignment? The bishop gave that question very little attention. He saw an eager new convert, and he gave him a responsibility on which to grow.
The bishop saw that he had friends in the Church. The first, of course, was his wife, Nancy, and there were a few more able people who could answer his questions and listen patiently when he did not understand. He was not left friendless, to grope through the dark. He had those who were willing to take the time to talk with him.
Does he know all there is to know about the Church? No, of course not. He is constantly learning, and with that learning is a growing enthusiasm.
He is excited about what he has found. He is eager to receive the higher blessings of the temple. His testimony has become strong and secure within less than a year’s time. I believe he is a 100 percent convert, and his enthusiasm is contagious. We need more of this kind, and we need many more to work with them.

I remember thinking of this freedom and this peace when I faced a young man and a young woman across the desk of my office. He was handsome, tall, and manly. She was a beautiful girl, an excellent student, sensitive and perceptive.
The girl sobbed, and tears fell from the eyes of the young man. Both were university students. They were to be married the next week, but not in the kind of wedding of which they had dreamed. They had planned that to come three years in the future, following college graduation.
Now they found themselves in a situation that both regretted and for which neither was prepared. She was pregnant. Shattered were their dreams of schooling, the years of preparation they knew each needed for the competitive world that lay ahead. Rather, they would now have to establish a home, and he would have to support his family with whatever work he could find.
The young man looked up through his tears. “We allowed ourselves to be led astray,” he said.
“We’ve cheated one another,” she responded. “We’ve cheated one another and the parents who love us—and we’ve cheated ourselves. We were betrayed. We believed those who told us that virtue is hypocrisy; and we’ve found that the new morality, the idea that sin is only in one’s mind, is a trap that’s destroyed us.”
They spoke of a thousand thoughts that had crossed their minds in the fearful days and the anxious nights of the past few weeks. Should she seek an abortion? The temptation to do so was there. No, never, she had concluded. Life is sacred under any circumstance. How could she ever live with herself is she took measures to destroy the gift of life even under these conditions?
The child could be placed for adoption. There were excellent organizations that could assist in such a program, and there were good families anxious for children. But they had dismissed that thought. Whatever happened, he would never leave her to face the burden alone. He was responsible, and he would meet that responsibility even though it would ruin the future of which he had dreamed.
I admired his courage, his determination to make the best of a difficult situation; but my heart ached as I watched them, distressed and sobbing. Here was tragedy. Here was heartbreak. Here was entrapment. Here was bondage.
They had been told of freedom, that evil was only a thing of the mind. But they found they had lost their freedom. Nor had they known peace. They had exchanged their peace and their freedom—the freedom to marry when they chose to marry, the freedom to secure the education of which they had dreamed, and, more important, the peace of self-respect.

One evening my children and I were driving down a hill near our home. I noticed a boy about 12 years old wearing a backpack and walking up the hill. It was a strange time for him to be coming home from school, but I didn’t think too much of it.
Then I had a strong impression that I should turn around and help the boy. But I was worried it would frighten him if a strange car pulled up next to him at night, so I continued driving.
As I got to the bottom of the hill, the impression came again: “You need to go help that boy.”
I turned the car around and drove back to the boy. I rolled down the window and said, “Do you need help? I had a prompting that I should come back and help you.”
The boy looked at us with tears streaming down his face. He said, “Would you? I’ve been praying that someone would help me.”
He had stayed after school for an activity and had missed the last bus. He had walked several miles already. It was getting dark, and he was frightened. Because of the boy’s prayer and the Spirit’s prompting, we were able to help him find his way home.
We can all pray when we need help. I received a spiritual feeling that helped the boy return home. You too can receive promptings through the Spirit that will help guide you safely home to Heavenly Father.

“We can show love for others by doing kind things. Do something nice for somebody you love, and leave a heart where they will find it,” Cassi’s teacher told them as she handed three red hearts to each class member.
Cassi took her hearts home. Mommy hadn’t had time to make her bed before church. Cassi made Mommy’s bed and put a heart on the pillow.
“Thank you!” Mommy hugged Cassi. “When you make my bed, I feel happy.” Cassi felt happy too.
Cassi’s dog, Floppy, was whining. He was thirsty. Cassi filled his dish and put a heart beside it. Floppy’s tail wagged back and forth as he drank. He was happy.
Cassie had one heart left. Who else did she love? Daddy, of course, but he was out of town for two whole weeks, and she wanted to do something else nice for someone sooner than that. She thought hard all week. She loved Heavenly Father, but how could she do something nice for Him?
On Sunday, Cassi knew what to do! She took her last heart to church to remind her of her plan. She listened to her teacher. She was reverent during sacrament meeting. And when she went home, she drew pictures of her favorite story in the Book of Mormon, put the last red heart with them, and gave them to Mommy to send to a missionary.

My older brother was the first convert to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in my family. He was a good missionary, and even though he lived far away from us, year after year he kept sending missionaries to our door. We were Catholic, and my mom was not interested in listening to the missionaries. Finally my older sister decided to invite the missionaries inside, which led my mom, my sisters, and me to later be baptized into the Church. My dad joined us a few years later. Many miracles followed our conversion. The gospel brought us a new hope and the knowledge that God had a plan for each one of us. Our lives were filled with the joy of knowing our divine heritage and understanding the purpose of our existence here.

Brother and Sister Tsuya were well known for two things. First was the haircuts Brother Tsuya would give the missionaries.
The other thing the Tsuyas were known for was their incredible love and mission spirit. They spoke no Portuguese and spoke English with a thick accent. But they would take a box of copies of the Book of Mormon they bought with their own money to the fruit fair on the street each week and would always come back empty-handed. Their spirit was incredibly powerful.
One transfer day I had the chance to talk to Brother Tsuya. I found out that he had joined the Church in Hawaii. I told him that my grandfather had served a mission in Hawaii and was there during the attack on Pearl Harbor. Brother Tsuya was very surprised and said he had joined the Church then but didn’t remember an Elder Squire. I told him that it was my mom’s father, Elder Thurgood, who had served in Hawaii.
Brother Tsuya almost fell out of his chair and yelled out “Elder Thurgood is your grandpa?” He related the story of their meeting. He said while he was eating a meal in the Hawaiian community style, he was being inappropriate and was taking the Lord’s name in vain among other things. A missionary, my grandfather, had spoken up and asked him to stop. Brother Tsuya said he took the name of the Lord in vain again. He said that my grandpa had come over to him, hit him on the shoulder, and lectured him about how little he knew about life, how he wasn’t as smart as he thought, how he needed to quit smoking and do a bunch of things differently or he wouldn’t ever amount to anything.
Brother Tsuya told me that when he went home that night, he knew my grandpa was right. He thought about it and decided he wanted to make some changes. He ran into two similarly dressed missionaries a couple of weeks later and listened to the discussions with a sincere desire to change. Brother Tsuya gave much of the credit for his decision to listen to the missionaries to my grandpa.
I quickly wrote home telling my family I had huge news and that Grandpa Thurgood needed to be there when I made my telephone call at Christmas. When I called home, I finally told him that I had met somebody he brought into the Church. I will always remember how quiet he became as he said, “Ryan, you are mistaken. I never brought anybody into the Church on my mission.”
I asked him if he remembered hitting a smart-aleck Japanese kid at dinner in Hawaii and then lecturing him on how much he needed to change his life. He became instantly curious and said that he did remember the incident well. He was transferred away shortly after that and hadn’t heard more.
I told him that two weeks later that boy had decided to listen to the discussions because of what you said to him that night. He had later married in the temple in Hawaii. He had served in various callings in the Church and blessed many, many lives. He served as a mission president in Japan for three years. He also served as president of the MTC in Japan. He had served multiple missions with his wife.
My Grandpa Thurgood was in tears and couldn’t talk to me after that. He had spent over 50 years thinking his mission hadn’t made a difference to anybody. When the Tsuyas completed their mission in Brazil, my grandpa and his wife went to the temple with them and had a tearful reunion.

It all started with a stutter. My mom would tell you it’s cute, but I would beg to differ. The first day of first grade, the teacher told us to stand up one by one and introduce ourselves. When it was my turn, I stood and immediately got nervous in front of the sea of people.
“H-h-h-hi, m-m-m-m-m-my name’s Smith.”
I was embarrassed that I had messed up in front of my new class. I sat down, and a girl looked me in my eyes (it felt like she looked into my soul) and said, “Why can’t you talk right?”
That day I decided I was different and that, because I was different, I was less important than everyone else.
Over time, my self-esteem got worse. I didn’t believe I could have friends who truly cared about me. I didn’t believe I was enough to make my parents proud. And ultimately, I didn’t believe there was a God who had sent His Son to die for me.
At the age of nine I was exposed to pornography online. I hadn’t gone looking for what I saw. But because I believed I wasn’t important, I thought that if I told my parents, they would be ashamed of me. This slowly led me down a path of addiction.
When I was 10 years old, I got onto social media, which gave me more ways to find pornography. At the same time, I started to compare my life with the “perfect” lives I saw on social media. I saw posts of people on vacation or hanging out with friends when I wasn’t invited. I saw people with these “perfect” bodies, and I didn’t think mine was good enough. With this cycle of self-loathing and addiction, my life spiraled quickly. At 14 years old, I planned to take my own life.
On a day I felt like my life was falling apart, my parents found out about my trials and guided me toward the Savior and His Atonement. It was a turning point in my life. I met with my bishop, and he and my dad gave me a blessing. It was the first time in six years I had felt the Spirit. It felt tangible.
Focus on Joy, by Michael Malm
It’s taken time and effort, but because of my Savior, Jesus Christ, I’ve been able to repent and grow stronger as a person. I’ve seen beautiful miracles in my life that are a direct result of the saving power of Christ’s Atonement.
I now spend my time as a public speaker, traveling the country and speaking to youth groups, schools, and communities about the harmful effects of social media and pornography. I teach about the importance of mental health and the need for suicide prevention. I’ve built a platform on social media that I can use for good. I just graduated high school. I’ve built two businesses and strong relationships with those I love. Most importantly, I’ve found God again. I have a sure testimony of God the Father, His Son, Jesus Christ, and Their power and influence.
None of this has happened because I have extra special talents or unusual abilities. Through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, I’ve been able to repent, overcome challenges, and find peace and healing. If you think you’re too far gone, my answer to you is that you’re wrong. I was willing to surrender to the redeeming power of Jesus Christ. You can too.

Brother Bingham soon sent the missionaries to visit me. At first their prayers and testimonies seemed strange to me, and my interest in them was simply motherly concern. I thought of their mothers—what they must be experiencing having sent their sons and daughters to our cold Russia, so far from home. I wanted to feed and warm them.

As it turned out, the missionaries were not the ones who needed help—I was. I had lived my entire life without a real knowledge of God and his Son, and I was afraid to open my heart. But gradually, over the period of a year as the missionaries continued to teach me and as I began to attend church weekly, I turned more and more to God. The burden of my loss was eased.

Finally, on 10 December 1995, Brother Bingham baptized me. Now I know that although we may experience heartache and difficulties, such as the death of a loved one, the Lord gives us the strength to endure such difficulties. That strength, for me, is the faith that comes through finally having the Lord in my life—and the knowledge that through temple ordinances I can be with my husband again.

In 1941 the Gila River overflowed and flooded the Duncan Valley in Arizona. A young stake president by the name of Spencer W. Kimball met with his counselors, assessed the damage, and sent a telegram to Salt Lake City asking for a large sum of money.

Instead of sending money, President Heber J. Grant sent three men: Henry D. Moyle, Marion G. Romney, and Harold B. Lee. They visited with President Kimball and taught him an important lesson: “This isn’t a program of ‘give me,’” they said. “This is a program of ‘self-help.’”

Many years later, President Kimball said: “It would have been an easy thing, I think, for the Brethren to have sent us [the money,] and it wouldn’t have been too hard to sit in my office and distribute it; but what a lot of good came to us as we had hundreds of [our own] go to Duncan and build fences and haul the hay and level the ground and do all the things that needed doing. That is self-help.”

By following the Lord’s way, the members of President Kimball’s stake not only had their immediate needs met, but they also developed self-reliance, alleviated suffering, and grew in love and unity as they served each other.

I searched and searched for the perfect gift for Grandpa. Grandpa was dying of cancer, and this would probably be his last Christmas with us. I had been thinking for months on just the perfect thing to get for him. I wanted to give him something unique that would be just a small symbol of all the love and admiration that I had for him. But nothing that I saw seemed to be a worthy representation of that love.
Soon it was Christmas Eve and I still didn’t have a gift for Grandpa. I went shopping one last time, and once again I came home without a gift. I started thinking, if Grandpa had some money, what would he do with it? How would he want the money spent? The answer came to my mind quietly but positively: He would give the money to someone less fortunate than himself. So that’s how the money was used.
I got some paper and wrote about all the feelings I had for Grandpa, told him what I had done for him for Christmas, put the letter in an envelope with a Christmas card, and quickly gave it to him with a kiss. Before he could say anything, I wished him a Merry Christmas, and went back to my room.
A little while later, I went to get something for my mother and passed Grandpa’s room. Tears were rolling down his cheeks. He called me in, drew me close to him, and gave me one of those huge hugs that only grandpas can give. “That was the best gift you could have given me,” he said.
That was Grandpa’s last Christmas with us. It wasn’t until some time after his death that I slowly realized that Grandpa had given me one of the most precious gifts that I’ll ever receive. He had helped me understand that the best gift that one can give is a part of one’s self. Through example, Grandpa had awakened in me a desire to be like him and in so doing, had given me a better understanding of the glorious personage whom he was striving to be like.

Regardless of one’s opportunities for formal education, a person can engage in lifelong learning. This wrench belonged to my grandfather. He was only able to go to school through the eighth grade. He worked as a mechanic. He brought books about diesel engines home from work, and he read them. Eventually he became the supervisor over all the diesel equipment for a company in the San Francisco Bay Area. Although his opportunity for formal education was limited, he kept learning on his own.

Two missionaries asked a new family to kneel in prayer, and the senior companion, not knowing why, asked the husband to move over by his wife and take her hand. He hesitated, and the missionary simply said, “That’s what my mom and dad do at home. Please take your wife by the hand.”

After they were baptized, the husband and wife tearfully confessed that they were on the verge of divorce when they met the missionaries. The husband had already moved out of the home. He was just there to visit the children when the missionaries appeared. The husband said that as his hand touched his wife’s, a healing spirit came over them. Love replaced the wounds and the misunderstandings; they forgave each other, and the husband came home.

Several years ago, I taught mathematics at a small high school in rural Wyoming and helped coach several different school-sponsored sports. One day, one of my responsibilities included preparing equipment for drills intended to increase the agility of the athletes on our team. The drills involved athletes running through several rope ladders stretched out flat on a field.
The school had eight such ladders and, to help the next team who would use them, it was important to carefully roll each ladder before storing them all together in a single bag. One day, I found the ladders had not been properly stored. They came out in one big, knotted mess. I was hopeful that I could untangle them, but soon realized that the task would not be quick or easy. It was hot, I was tired, and very soon frustrated that I may not have the equipment ready for the team. I worked for 10 minutes trying to separate the ladders but had no success.
I share this experience because I have faced times when my life resembled something like that tangled mess of rope ladders.
Going back to that hot afternoon in Wyoming, eventually I did get one of the ladders untangled. It gave me hope to keep working. A second ladder soon shook loose, and before long they all unraveled. To me this event was a “tender [mercy] of the Lord,”[20] though not miraculous.
But when God untangles the knotted circumstances of a seemingly broken life, it most certainly is a miracle. And I testify that God is in the business of miracles.

It is important to Jonathan to live Jesus Christ’s teachings. When his father told him that there were many children who did not have toys like he did, he immediately put many of his toys into a box to give them away. They took the toys to a group of refugees, and Jonathan handed them out to the children. Tears filled his eyes as he saw how happy they were to get the toys. Later he told his father, “Now I know what Jesus means when He said to give. I have a warm feeling inside.”

In 2004 Sheri Dew published a book titled No One Can Take Your Place. She was signing books at Deseret Book in Rexburg. I went down to the store, purchased the book, and stood in line for her to sign the book. As I was waiting in line, I became more and more nervous and almost left the line. As I approached her table, I remember being really nervous. I didn’t say a whole lot, because, you know, this is Sheri Dew, my all-time hero, and what could I say to her that she hasn’t heard a million times from other women? I remember my face turning red as I handed her the book. She signed the book with a little message. I said “thank you” and went to my car. Once out to my car, I read the message:

To Renee, with love and complete confidence in you!
Sheri Dew

How did she know that was what I needed to hear? That brief message helped me to start to focus on who I was, not who I thought I was. I started focusing on who I really am. I started praying to know what I was supposed to be doing with my life, and who Heavenly Father needed me to become. I started reading my scriptures with intent, praying for understanding, and studying conference talks. I started to put real energy into those things I had been doing all along, but now with more purpose. I will let you in on a little secret: if you ask Heavenly Father how to become a better person, He will help you.