Gospel Story Finder

When the Church published a rendering of the temple to be built in Bengaluru, a friend messaged me, pointing out how closely it resembled a picture I had drawn in my missionary journal 20 years ago. I had forgotten all about this drawing, so I immediately looked for the journal and was awestruck to see that my friend was right. To me this was a very personal and special manifestation of God’s love for me. How utterly grateful I am to see this dream come true. My rendering in 1999, depicted my stick-figure future family going to the temple outside our home in India. Although I now live in Melbourne, Australia with my family, I can’t wait for us to one day visit this temple. But for now, I truly rejoice with by brothers and sisters in India and many Saints around the world, as we celebrate a sight that we have so longed to behold.

Hope Gentile, four days before her first chemotherapy treatment in March 2015.
Photographs of Hope by Nicholas Gentile
A few years ago, a single word—cancer—thrust the young family of Nicholas and Christina Gentile into what Brother Gentile called “the uncharted depths of a life-or-death trial.” Their 19-month-old daughter, Hope, had been diagnosed with a tumor in her lower back.
“Over the next five months of surgeries and chemotherapy,” recalls Brother Gentile, “Hope’s battle for life created a kaleidoscope of experiences that ultimately strengthened our family’s testimony of the Savior’s grace.”
Hope’s trial and uncertain future drew the family closer—to each other and to the Savior.
“We knew that what we saw was only part of the reality that God saw for Hope,” said Brother Gentile. “Despite the darkness, we trusted in Him, regardless of the outcome.”
One dark night during Hope’s second five-day round of chemotherapy, Brother Gentile noticed how much hair she had lost in the previous few days. Her remaining strawberry blonde wisps painfully reminded him of her mortality. Nevertheless, he found solace in the Lord’s promise that “a hair of [her] head shall not fall to the ground unnoticed” (Doctrine and Covenants 84:116).
“I felt that Jesus Christ was deeply aware of Hope’s journey—and our heartache,” said Brother Gentile. “He did ‘not leave [us] comfortless’ [John 14:18].”
During bedtime one evening as he read a board book to Hope, Brother Gentile asked in a silly voice, “What does the owl say?” Giggling, Hope replied, “Hoo, hoo!” Then he asked, “What does the cow say?” Hope proudly responded, “Moo, moo!”
At that moment, a picture of the Savior on the bedroom wall caught Brother Gentile’s attention. The Spirit prompted him to ask, “Hope, and what does Jesus say?”
As he waited for his daughter’s reply, she snuggled into his shoulder, opened her big blue eyes, and whispered, “‘Hold you.’ Jesus says, ‘Hold you.’”
Brother Gentile gently pulled Hope’s tiny body close and hugged her as he sobbed. As Hope hugged back with her tiny arms, she whispered, “Love you, Dada.”
God had given Brother Gentile and his family that moment for a special reason: “Jesus was holding our family in His loving arms,” he said. “Since that sacred night, I have pondered the tender truth God taught me through my daughter’s words: Jesus will hold us and bless us during our trials if we let Him. These blessings come according to His perfect time, way, and will, but they do come. I know these truths because the Holy Ghost helped me to feel them in Hope’s room on that dark night.”2
I am happy to report that the Gentile family’s faith and prayers were answered. Today, Hope is a healthy, happy 10-year-old.
Left: Hope after her fourth chemotherapy treatment in June 2015. Right: Hope at nine years old.

This picture was taken in São Paulo, Brazil, in 2004. Floripes Luzia Damasio of the Ipatinga Brazil Stake was 114 years old. Speaking of her conversion, Sister Damasio told me that missionaries in her village had given a priesthood blessing to a critically ill baby who miraculously recovered. She wanted to know more. As she prayed about their message, an undeniable witness of the Spirit confirmed to her that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. At 103, she was baptized, and at 104, she was endowed. Every year after, she made the 14-hour bus ride to spend a week in the temple. Sister Damasio had received a heavenly confirmation, and she knew that God knew that she knew that the witness was true.

I’m Carolyn Neave of Brisbane. As one of my Laurel projects, I decided to get very involved in missionary work. My friend Elizabeth Smith and I set up dates with the sister missionaries and went tracting with them.
The first day was hot, but spiritually uplifting. Working with these wonderful servants of the Lord I learned not only what it means to be a missionary, but also how to cope when a member of your own family goes on a mission.
My big brother Sean left for his mission to Adelaide in November, and by being close to the missionaries in our ward, I was able to know that my brother is in good hands—the Lord’s. Although I miss not having him around, I know he’s doing what’s right, and he knows I love him.
I also learned that missionary work doesn’t bless you only if you bring souls unto Christ, but it blesses you for trying.

“But how can you go on a mission? I’m getting married, and you’re the only member of my family who can come. You’re my mom! I mean, it’s only the most important day of my life. What kind of wedding is it going to be for me with no family to celebrate?”
I remember the conversation as if it were yesterday. I was a freshman from California going to Brigham Young University planning to marry George, a quiet boy from Manti, Utah, who had just returned from his mission to Italy. My parents had divorced when I was 12, but I had a wonderful non-LDS father, two inactive sisters, and a devout and adventurous LDS mom who, at age 47, had decided to go on a mission. She would leave just months before my scheduled wedding day in the Manti Utah Temple.
Mom hadn’t intentionally planned to miss my wedding, but she hadn’t told anyone about sending in her mission papers. George and I had surprised everyone, including ourselves, with a Valentine engagement and a May wedding date. I cried for days. It seemed the event I’d been so anxiously awaiting was now a source of great sorrow and disappointment.
George called my dad to explain why we were getting married in the temple, since my dad would not be able to attend. My father’s voice was thick with emotion as he questioned my fiancé. George explained how much he loved me and how he wanted to convey that love by entering into a marriage that, if worked toward, would last through eternity. He also told my father how much we loved and respected him.
My father shared his feelings of love for us and said he understood, but listening on the other line, I could hear tones of doubt and disappointment in his voice. I was his youngest child, and he wouldn’t even have the chance to give me away in a traditional wedding. I hung up the phone and cried for two more days.
My mom left for her mission, and I concentrated on school and preparing for finals. Preparations for my May wedding almost became an afterthought. In fact, my attention would not have been as focused on wedding plans if a girl in my dorm, Teresa, had not also become engaged on Valentine’s Day.
Teresa and her fiancé were planning to marry in the Salt Lake Temple and have a large reception afterwards. Each weekend she would go to Salt Lake to work with her mother on the preparations. And each Monday, Teresa would return with stories about their progress, including a detailed description of her beautiful dress.
I was making my own dress, and since I only managed a C minus on my apron project in 10th grade home economics class, the design was, needless to say, simple. I had chosen cotton material with six satin-covered buttons down the front and a bit of lace around each cuff. It cost 30 dollars. My terrific dorm mom helped me put it together during finals week.
I remember sitting at the sewing machine late one night picking out stitches from yet another seam and grumbling about Teresa’s professional fittings into a gown with yards and yards of cascading white satin draped with hand-sewn French lace. I could imagine that Teresa must look like a dream bride as the seamstress would pamper and pin and her mother would compliment and cry.
I’d cry, too, every time I thought about Teresa and her plans. It wasn’t that Teresa was flaunting her good fortune. It was me, not she, who had some repenting to do.
I awoke on my wedding day to sunshine and the smell of lilacs. I pushed open the small second-story window and felt a gentle May breeze dance its way past me into the room. The Manti Utah Temple stood gleaming on the hillside, beckoning.
As I turned from the window, I saw my simple white dress hanging on a wall hook by the side of the bed. Someone had lovingly pressed out the travel wrinkles and quietly hung it there while I was sleeping. Tears welled up in my eyes. I missed my mom, dad, and sisters. I wanted them with me. How could I possibly get married with no family, no reception, and no gorgeous gown?
Then, as my eyes rested on my 30-dollar dress, the Spirit spoke clearly to my soul: What you do in faith is rewarded in power.
I caught my breath. I wasn’t marrying for this moment, or even this lifetime, but for eternity. Against earthly disappointments, I was manifesting my testimony in action. I loved my Heavenly Father, I had faith in His system of marriage, and because of that faith He would bless our union with power.
It was true. We are now celebrating nearly 30 years of joyful commitment. Even though there have been times of miscommunication, disappointment, and struggle, the power of eternal bonding has pulled us through. We look across the breakfast table at each other and think, There is my very best friend.
The power has also extended to other family members. My mother and I are great friends. And my father, even though he has now passed on, truly did honor and respect George and me as “young people with stability in this crazy, mixed-up world.” My sisters, although still not active in the Church, are beginning to see some consistency in what George and I have put together.
Please don’t think I’m flaunting my good fortune. I’m just so exuberant about the wondrous ability God has to bless our lives if we put our faith in Him. It’s that simple. Love Him, trust Him, and the miracle of eternal sealing can happen, even in a 30-dollar dress.

I’m also still in contact with my father. One day, we had an argument. I was really struggling with it, but suddenly there was a chance to go on a youth temple trip. While I was in the temple, I felt peace. I did not think about the problems at home. I did not think about the anger I had for my father. I thought of things that I could do to help him. I thought about being a good example. I thought about eternal things, about getting sealed with my parents in the temple someday. I decided to say sorry to my father for fighting with him.

Savior with Children, by Michael Malm

I’ve learned to always focus on Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father. I get my strength from Them, and I remember that They have my back.

Understanding the plan of salvation, especially the Savior’s Atonement, helped me overcome my thoughts of suicide. It helps me feel peace in living. It gives me hope that I can meet my grandmother on the other side of the veil again someday.

Jesus Christ is the hope to continue my life even though I have a lot of challenges. His love for me is never-ending. He’s the sunlight in my life. When it’s stormy or raining, He is there. He is my Savior. He is my home. He is my life. He keeps me going. He’s one of the reasons I love living.

The author lives in Iloilo, Philippines.

If you are experiencing thoughts of suicide, get help from a trusted adult now. Also check out resources, including crisis help lines, at suicide.ChurchofJesusChrist.org.

A young woman on a university volleyball team tells of the time when she and her friend Muki were playing together in a championship match:
““I remember it being a close game. … Gracie [on our opponents’ team] rounded her approach, jumped, and smacked the ball as hard as she could. … The line judges signaled out, and the head official raised his finger to show a point for [our team]. We began giving our usual high fives when we noticed that Muki was hand-motioning to the official that she touched the ball on her block. Muki was calling her own touch. The line judges … were … signaling out, [indicating] that there was no touch.
“The quiet, withdrawn Muki had showed an act of integrity and honesty like I had never seen before. Gracie Shute was so impressed that she talked with Muki after the match. … Muki later gave Gracie a Book of Mormon. I don’t know if Gracie has read the book … , but I do know that Gracie was touched by Muki’s example, as we all were.”

The “blood of Israel” image became still more personal when Bert and Amanda invited his parents to visit them in Bogota. It was a new beginning.
“My dad was a good man,” reflects Bert, “but we couldn’t convince him to join the Church—even though whenever he visited us, he would comment about the happiness we had in our family, and how he wished the other children could have it.”
Late one night during his parents’ visit, Bert was awakened. “I was prompted,” he recalls, “to go and challenge my dad—again—to be baptized, even though he had refused many times before. I woke Amanda (I always have to confer with her, because she’s got the Spirit!), told her my feeling, and she said, ‘Well, I guess you’d better go do it.’ So I went into his room … it was like Daniel going into the lions’ den.”
Bert woke his father, bore testimony, issued the challenge. The response? “My dad put his arms around me and hugged me and cried. He had been shot, stabbed, and injured many times during his life as a police officer, and he had never before shed a tear as far as I knew.”
Within weeks, Brother DuPont had fully embraced the gospel. “The missionaries from the U.S. could not teach him in English,” Bert explains, “because they only knew their discussions in Spanish. So I interpreted for them. My parents came to church with us every Sunday even though they couldn’t understand what was going on because everything was spoken in Spanish. But evidently my father could feel something—and I believe it was the spirit of the people. There was standing room only the day he was baptized.”

One day at school, a friend and I were choosing a book to read together. The book my friend wanted to read was a ghost story. When we had read a few pages, I had an uneasy feeling because I remembered that my mom had told me not to read that book. My brother Ben had read it earlier, and it had bad things in it. After that we chose a different book. I was glad that the Holy Ghost had helped me remember.Laura Jossie, age 9Wichita, Kansas

When I was stake president of the BYUH First Stake, I witnessed the power of generous giving in humble ways to make a significant difference in the life of a needy individual. Reyne Justo, a young man from Saipan, a member of the 2 nd Ward, suffered a brain aneurysm while working out in the exercise room. He was rushed to the ER at Kahuku and then to Queen's hospital in a coma. When our presidency visited him one Sunday, we found him lying in bed with his eyes open, fixed and staring. The doctor said he was probably in what he called "lock down syndrome", where he could understand what was going on around him, but could not move nor express himself. This was similar to a very serious stroke. He said that he might improve with stimulation, with company and people talking to him. Bishop Beaver put out the call to his ward, full of busy students like yourselves. A shuttle was organized by the ward student leaders and there was a different carload of ward members who went almost every day to spend some time with Reyne. They sang hymns, prayed with him, held his hand and talked to him. Eventually he could move one hand. He could squeeze your hand once for yes, twice for no. Then he could raise one eyebrow in a code. Eventually he could blink his eyes. The ward visitors continued for weeks.

Bishop Eric Beaver, a lawyer by training, researched Medicare laws and rules, welfare laws, student insurance policies and coverage. When Reyne's time in the hospital ran out, the Bishop helped qualify him for a care center where he would get further rehabilitation. He eventually arranged for a donation of a hospital bed, a free trip home to Saipan on a U.S. military plane, and even coordinated with the branch president in Saipan to have a member of branch flown here to be trained in how to care for Reyne and to fly home with him and his grandmother. There were many good Samaritans in this true story.

I know how real the hooks of mortality can be. One Sunday, as a new convert, I was teaching a priesthood class when an unsettling conversation arose. I struggled to finish my lesson. I took offense and felt that I was the victim. Without saying a word, I headed for the exit with the idea that I would not return to church for a while.
At that very moment, a concerned priesthood holder stood in front of me. He lovingly invited me to focus on Christ and not on the situation we had experienced in class. As I looked back on the experience with him, he shared with me that he heard a voice tell him, “Go after him; he is important to me.”
My dear friends, we are all important to Him. President Nelson taught that “because of our covenant with God, He will never tire in His efforts to help us, and we will never exhaust His merciful patience with us.” Our divine nature and covenant relationship with God entitle us to receive divine help.

A few weeks after that Friday, the presidency of my young adult branch was released. As anyone from a small branch can probably attest, it was hard to think of what would happen without our branch being able to rely on these men and their wives, whom we had grown to love and trust. But I closed my eyes and repeated to myself the words that had struck me that Friday: good things keep on coming. I was comforted and ready for the change.

The following is an account of a young girl who grew up in a small rural community with limited educational opportunities. The first day of her senior year she found herself without friends, entering the high school in what seemed to her to be a big city. Having lost her way and arriving late, her anxiety was only intensified after she quickly observed that she not only didn’t know her way around, but a glance downward told her that her clothing was different, and she felt different in a most uncomfortable way.

It was at the close of that day, and the following morning, and each day thereafter that she poured out the yearnings of her heart to her Father in heaven, pleading for the ability to be the kind of a person worthy of friends—lots of friends, boyfriends and girl friends—and making a promise to endeavor to keep all of the commandments in return.

Days and weeks went by. Fall gave way to winter, and while friendships were forming through her sincere respect extended to each student, still there was a need unfulfilled. Then one Sunday afternoon what seemed like an answer to her prayer came. The telephone rang and the voice of one of the special boys at school enthusiastically extended an invitation to her to attend the Sunday movie. Oh, the yearning, the prayers, the promises, the excitement, the conflict, and now the decision. Could this be an answer to her prayers—a Sunday movie? The decision was quickly but painfully made; the invitation was declined, the response cheerful but final. Oh, the torment. Would he ever call again?

A young girl poured out the yearnings of her heart to her Father in heaven, obeyed his commandments, and trusted in the outcome. That particular young man never called again, but in due time her prayers were answered with many friends, boyfriends and girl friends, and as that school year drew to a close, she was nominated by the studentbody to receive a special award for friendliness. Many lessons had been learned that year, but the lesson of greatest importance she expressed in these words:
“Our Father in heaven loves us.
He knows how we feel.
He listens to the yearnings of our heart.
He strengthens us when we’re discouraged.
And he rewards us—in due time.”

Many lives have been blessed by the success of the Philippines Area’s “I Will Go, I Will Serve: 4600” initiative. Aside from the inspired vision of the Area Presidency, the support of the local priesthood leaders and the efforts of youth leaders, the miraculous success of the campaign was also boosted by the catchy theme song performed by Loredel “Daday” Ducena-Baluyot.
Composing the popular anthem with her husband Justin was a labor of love. After the first Area Presidency fireside premiered on Facebook on May 16, 2021, Daday and Justin felt the spirit and were inspired to write the song. After a few weeks, they presented the song to the Church area production team and offered its use to help sustain the momentum of the campaign. The song was reviewed and approved, and by July they were recording it with some help from Brio Divinagracia on the arrangement and background vocals. The song was officially launched during the follow-up Area Presidency fireside on November 21, 2021.
Aside from the 2021 youth theme song “A Great Work,” Daday’s “I Will Go, I Will Serve,” became popular after being part of youth, YSA, and FSY conferences all over the country. It was also listened to and sung along with the 2022 youth theme song “Trust in the Lord.” Recently, the couple rewrote the song as part of the November 20, 2022 Area Presidency fireside launching a heightened and more comprehensive “Come Unto Christ: I Will Go, I Will Serve” initiative.
“We were so honored when the Area Presidency requested that we rework the song so it can still be part of the relaunched campaign,” shares self-taught musician Justin. “He immediately took a leave from work and we spent an entire weekend brainstorming and working together on the song,” discloses Daday.
April 2020 MTC batchmates, the couple drew from their mission experiences when they first wrote the song. Justin served under the Philippines Bacolod Mission while Daday labored in the Philippines Urdaneta Mission. Upon returning from her mission, Daday was tapped to represent the country in the 2021 Youth Music Festival and eventually became a host of the monthly online program “Hear Him through Music.” They got reacquainted when Justin arrived home from his mission, and the whirlwind romance led to their wedding at the Manila Temple on February 3, 2022.
On working on the song again, they expressed gratitude for the emphasis placed on the temple because it is their favorite place. “As a young couple facing many of life’s challenges, the temple is our safe haven where we receive strength and guidance,” says Justin. “I agree,” adds Daday. “We live far from the temple, but we are always excited to go there and feel the Spirit of the Lord.”
With their love for each other strengthened by their love for music, missionary work, the temple, and the Lord, the Daday and Justin consider themselves very lucky to have found each other along their journey on the covenant path.

When a girl in her Valiant class told a story about President Spencer W. Kimball,* Nina listened intently.
When the prophet had been waiting in an airport, he noticed a young, pregnant mother struggling to urge her child along in the line. She nudged the toddler along with her foot but didn’t pick her up. Other passengers whispered and pointed at her, but no one offered to help. President Kimball picked up the crying child and comforted her. The woman told him that because of orders from her doctor, she could not lift her child.
Only President Kimball had recognized that the young mother needed help. Only he had offered that help. Never once did he judge her, as the other passengers had.

Let me tell you of a recent experience that is part of the lives of General Authorities of the Church. As you may know, the Seventies serve in area presidencies and most live away from here in many nations of the earth. Each year the Quorums of the Seventy receive new or extended assignments for the coming year. Some of these assignments may mean that the General Authority and his wife will spend from three to five years away from their homes and families.

The First Presidency, because of their great love and concern for the Brethren and their wives and children, always have interviewed each Seventy personally before giving him an assignment. During this interview the members of the First Presidency inquire into the many issues that surround the Seventy and his family. These interviews have required great time and effort on the part of the First Presidency.

Recently all of the General Authorities and their wives were invited to a special meeting with the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve. There President Thomas S. Monson explained that the First Presidency simply had not had the time to conduct their regular interviews. Then he informed all of us to prepare ourselves because he would announce, from the pulpit, our assignments for the coming year.

The suspense was great as President Monson announced the list of assignments, which would require great sacrifices by those leaving their homes and families. Personally, I have never witnessed a greater demonstration of willing sacrifice. I heard no complaints. I heard not a single negative comment. No one objected to either the method or the nature of the assignment. All of the Seventies and their wives simply returned from that meeting to begin the preparations that would take many from their homes and families for several years.

Fifteen days before the start of each general conference, our family hangs up our sign announcing the beginning of “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?” Then we add the latest pictures of our prophets, seers, and revelators from the previous conference edition of the Church magazines.
I prepare by researching the prophet we will welcome that night. Sometimes I find objects around the house to represent a few things I found out, and I put them on a plate. During dinner, as I tell stories about each item, everyone tries to guess who it is. Other times, I tell a story or two that the prophet shared during the previous general conference.
I am amazed at the things my children remember about our beloved prophets and apostles, and I know this simple game has increased my love and knowledge of these great men also.

Three of my grandsons stood with me on the crest of the hill known as the Eminence last summer. Looking down at the Sweetwater where the Willie Company was stranded, cold and starving, we read from their journals of the joy of their rescue. As John Chislett wrote: “Just as the sun was sinking beautifully behind the distant hills, … several covered wagons … were seen coming towards us. The news ran through the camp like wildfire. … Shouts of joy rent the air; strong men wept till tears ran freely down their furrowed and sun-burnt cheeks. … That evening, for the first time in quite a period, the songs of Zion were to be heard in the camp. … With the cravings of hunger satisfied, and with hearts filled with gratitude to God and our good brethren, we all united in prayer, and then retired to rest.”

“What’s wrong?” Carol’s mother asked as they cleared away the dinner dishes. “Your birthday is just a week away and I thought you’d be happy and excited. It’s always been such fun to have your birthday in December. Your father and I named you Carol because having you for a daughter makes it seem like Christmas all year round.”
“I’ve always been excited before, but this year is different,” Carol answered.
Her mother looked puzzled. “What’s different about this year?”
“Well,” Carol began, “today at school Julie, Kay, and Krista decided to have a birthday party for me and they want it to be a caroling birthday party.”
“That sounds fun!” her mother exclaimed. “And I’ll make some hot chocolate for everyone. But why aren’t you happy about the party?”
“Mom, you don’t understand. You know I can’t sing. All that comes out when I try is a squeaky and embarrassing sound, especially when compared to the beautiful sounds Julie and Krista make when they sing. I love to hear them,” Carol explained.
“Everyone can sing,” declared her mother. “And I’ve always enjoyed listening to your singing.”
“That’s just because you’re my mother and so it doesn’t count,” Carol said. “You love me anyway, no matter how I sound.”
“Indeed I do,” Carol’s mother answered as she finished washing the last dish. “And I hope you won’t let the party plans spoil your birthday.”
For the next two days Carol thought about her problem. How could she go on a caroling party and not let everyone hear her squeaky voice?
She suggested that the party be changed to a sleigh ride, but the girls said they’d rather go caroling.
I wonder if I could learn to sing before the party, she thought, trying to be a better sport.
Every time she was alone she would practice “Oh Come, All Ye Faithful,” and “Joy to the World,” but the songs didn’t sound at all the way Julie or Krista sang them. Her voice squeaked and cracked and she couldn’t reach the high notes.
“Why does my birthday have to be in December?” she grumbled. “But the party’s for me so I have to go.”
John, her little brother, poked his head into her room and teased, “If I were you, I’d just mouth the words!” Then he laughed and hurried to shut the door before she could answer.
“Very funny,” Carol called after him and threw a pillow toward the closed door.
Sitting glumly on the edge of the bed, Carol suddenly beamed, “That’s just what I’ll do,” she said. “I’ll mouth the words. No one will even hear my squeaking.”
That night as she and her mother were doing the dishes, she confided. “I’ve figured out how to have fun at my party.”
“I’m glad,” her mother answered. “I’m sure you’ll have a good time.”
The night of the party, Carol bundled up in her warmest clothes and left with a big smile on her face.
“Happy birthday,” Julie and Krista greeted.
“We’ve never been caroling before. We can hardly wait,” several other girls said.
“We’re all here,” Kay shouted. “Let’s go.”
The group stopped first at Mrs. Caulder’s house where strains of “O Little Town of Bethlehem” floated onto the crisp night air. Carol moved her mouth with each word but didn’t make a sound.
This is great, Carol thought, as they walked on. I’m going to have a good birthday party after all.
“Do you have a cold or something?” Kay asked Carol. “You haven’t been singing.”
Carol was embarrassed. “I didn’t think anyone would notice.”
“What do you mean?” Kay persisted.
Carol tried to laugh. “I wasn’t singing because I can’t.”
“Neither can I,” Kay admitted.
“But you were singing!” Carol said.
“Sure! Anybody can sing Christmas carols. They’re so beautiful they make you forget everything else!”
“Not if you have a squeaky voice like mine!” Carol argued.
“Mine’s funny too. But I just think about the words,” Kay explained. “I could never sing a solo, but in a group like this it’s great.”
Think about the words, Carol reminded herself as the girls began singing “Silent Night” at the Langstons.
Carol listened carefully to Kay—“Round yon virgin mother and Child, Holy Infant, so tender and mild.”
Kay’s voice strained at the notes and squeaked almost as much as Carol’s, but the words came out loud and clear and full of meaning.
Carol joined in the third verse, but the squeaks and high notes were still there. She strained and tried harder, but nothing helped. She was sure Krista was staring at her out of the corner of her eye.
“I can’t do it,” Carol said to Kay as they walked on.
“You’re still worrying about the notes,” Kay said. “Think about the words instead.”
“I’ll try,” Carol promised.
The crisp winter air became colder as the girls moved on to the next house and started singing.
Carol took a deep breath and joined in, “Hark! the herald angels sing.” At first the words came softly and reluctantly, but as she thought about their meaning, Carol sang with enthusiasm. “With th’ angelic host proclaim Christ is born in Bethlehem!” Her heart suddenly took over and she felt as if she just had to let the whole world hear those beautiful words.
“Wow,” Krista whispered to Carol as they walked on. “You really sing with feeling. Everyone is sure to get the Christmas spirit when you’re around.”
“But I don’t have a beautiful voice like yours,” Carol protested.
“That doesn’t matter,” Krista said. “It’s the enthusiasm that counts.”
“That’s right,” Kay agreed, and winked at Carol.
“Let’s sing ‘Carol’s carol’ again,” Julie called as the group stopped before the next house. “That sounded great.”
Carol’s heart was filled with happiness as she thought of the meaning of the words and then sang out with the other girls, “Glory to the newborn King!”

David was taught well by his parents, but as a teenage farm boy he desired his own personal witness of the reality of God and His Work.
“One day in my youth I was hunting cattle. While climbing a steep hill, I stopped to let my horse rest, and there, once again, an intense desire came over me to receive a manifestation of the truth of the Restored Gospel. I dismounted, threw my reins over my horse’s head, and there under a serviceberry bush I prayed that God would declare to me the truth of his revelation to Joseph Smith. I am sure that I prayed fervently and sincerely and with as much faith as a young boy could muster.
“At the conclusion of the prayer, I arose from my knees, threw the reins over my faithful pony’s head, and got into the saddle. As I started along the trail again, I remember saying to myself: ‘No spiritual manifestation has come to me. If I am true to myself, I must say I am just the same “old boy” that I was before I prayed.’”
He had learned a great lesson. A young Latter-day Saint does not get conviction merely by asking the Lord, but by combining that asking with work, service, sacrifice, and obedience to God’s commandments.