Gospel Story Finder

Even at a very young age, children can feel the influence of the Holy Ghost. I remember a family home evening in which tears started streaming down the cheeks of our five-year-old daughter, Chanel. I thought her brother, Christopher, might have pinched her or something, so I asked, “Chanel, why are you crying?” She answered, “Daddy, I feel so happy.”
I can’t remember what the family home evening lesson was about, but I stopped and said, “Chanel, what you’re feeling is the power and influence of the Holy Ghost.” She replied, “Yes, Daddy, I know that is true.” Like Chanel, you can feel the happy, peaceful feeling, which will tell you when something is right or true.

One Saturday morning while I was serving in the Lima Peru Temple, a group of about 20 children from one of the Lima stakes came for a visit. After warmly shaking the hand of each child, the temple president spoke to them about the sacred work of the temple. He especially emphasized the continuation of family relationships and the meaning of the phrase “Families are forever.”
The children were reverent and listened carefully. One of these visitors was a little girl named Rosita, who was five years old. That night she stayed up late until her father returned from work, waiting for him on the edge of her bed.
When he arrived, he was surprised to see his daughter still awake. Rosita jumped off the bed and ran to him. He picked her up, and she put her arms around his neck and kissed him.
“And how is my little Rosa?” he asked.
“I am well, Papi.”
“Were you a good girl today?”
“Yes, Papi.”
“Was there something you wanted me to do for you?”
She nodded her head.
“What is it? What do you want, sweetheart?”
“Papi,” she said, pausing briefly, “when are you going to take me to the temple?”
Her father paused a few seconds before answering.
“I’m going to take you, Rosa. It’s just that I’m working hard right now, and I’m really busy. But I promise I will take you.”
“Thank you, Papi,” said Rosita, hugging and kissing her father again.
“Now go to bed and try to sleep.”
Many months later, Rosita’s family gathered in one of the sealing rooms of the temple. Moments of great rejoicing followed the sealing ceremony. Rosita’s father, with great love and tenderness, embraced each of his children, ending with the youngest—Rosita.
“Some months ago this little girl made a trip to the temple with the Primary children from our stake,” Rosita’s father told the sealer who had performed the ceremony. “That night she waited for me to get home from work and asked me when I was going to take her to the temple. I knew she didn’t just want to see the outside of the temple, so I have had to put my life in order and get rid of my bad habits. It has taken a lot of effort, but I have finally succeeded. Today is the most beautiful day I have ever experienced because today my family has been united for all eternity.”

With every calling she has, she actively looks for ways to serve the sisters in her ward and enjoys teaching the Young Women how to serve while developing their leadership skills. In February, the Young Women gathered toiletries to deliver to the widows in the ward for Valentines Day, along with homemade cupcakes the advisors baked. One widow said she felt blessed to have been remembered. A housebound widow appreciated being spoilt by the Young Women and enjoyed their visit—sadly she passed away two weeks later—but not before she had felt the love of the Lord, once again, through His servants.

More than 200 youth from the Las Cruces New Mexico and El Paso Texas Stakes came together last summer for one purpose—to help those in need. Armed with gloves, water bottles, and sunscreen, they came eager to serve.
Some of the youth painted houses, some moved mounds of gravel, some pulled weeds, mowed lawns, and pruned trees and bushes, while others cleaned up loads of garbage. In all, 4 churches and 57 homes were transformed and beautified during the two-day “Helping Hands” youth conference. Rebecca Daw, a member of the youth committee that organized the conference, said “Service helps both the giver and the receiver. It helps us become better, stronger, more loving people. We need to be out doing stuff, doing hard work.”
Of the 57 families that benefited from the service projects, 52 were not members of the Church. By the time the service projects ended the second day, 7 of these families had requested copies of the Book of Mormon. Along with all the service projects, the youth also enjoyed food, activities, and a closing fireside with a slideshow and testimonies on the second day of the conference.

One morning while serving in the Thailand Bangkok Mission, I woke up lacking the desire to teach the gospel in my new area. My companion and I were having difficulties keeping our spirits up through the intense heat and the disappointment of uninterested investigators. In Thailand, 90 percent of the time it’s at least 90 degrees outside with at least 90 percent humidity. But as bad as the heat was, we felt worse about not being able to find people to teach the discussions to.
I spent the entire morning pumping myself up to teach my Thai brothers and sisters. Through reading my scriptures, studying with my companion, and praying fervently, I was ready and excited to teach again. As I had been on other days of my mission, I was amazed at how quickly studying and praying helped me regain the desire to teach.
The excitement and renewed strength quickly vanished, though, as every appointment we had that morning fell through. We tried street contacting to make up for the lost appointments, but nobody was interested. After yet another Thai brother turned down our offer to teach him, I looked at my companion only to sense in him exactly what I felt. Our sweat-drenched white shirts and tired bodies showed the dejection we had experienced. Our injured spirits wanted to give up, and I even contemplated taking an early lunch. But the Spirit wouldn’t let me.
Not knowing exactly why, I hopped on my bike and started pedaling as fast as I could. My companion, who probably thought I had lost my sanity, struggled to keep up as I sped down a neighborhood street. I pedaled and pedaled, finally coming to a three-way intersection where a man passed us on his bicycle. I slowed down and began to follow him, approaching his side and asking him how he was and where he was going. My companion caught up just in time to hear the man accept an invitation to hear the first discussion.
The man let us in his air-conditioned room where we taught him the first discussion and challenged him to read the Book of Mormon and pray about our message. Within the week, Amnaad Uanphooklaang had felt the Spirit and committed to be baptized later that month. Elder Wengreen, my companion, baptized Amnaad at the small branch where we served. The branch now had a much-needed potential priesthood holder.
Shortly thereafter, Amnaad introduced us to his boss, Chaanchay Srisawad. We taught Chaanchay the six discussions, and a branch member baptized him the next month.
Several months and two areas later, my mission president allowed me to visit that branch to see Chaanchay baptize his wife. As I watched the baptismal service, I thought about the morning we met Amnaad. I thought about how close we were to giving up and taking an early lunch. I still thank my Heavenly Father for allowing the Spirit to press forward for me when I felt unable to do so myself. I had learned, once again, that God guides His work.

After Paulo came up out of the water, he and Dad got dressed in dry clothes. Then Dad and Grandpa and the bishop laid their hands on his head and confirmed him. Now he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“I feel so great,” Paulo said. He touched his heart. “In here.”
Mom hugged him tight. “That’s because you received the gift of the Holy Ghost when you were confirmed.”
Paulo nodded. He didn’t want to do anything to make that great feeling go away.
But the very next day, his little brother Carlo broke Paulo’s toy plane. Paulo had saved up for a whole month to buy it!
“Look what you did!” Paulo yelled. “Why can’t you leave my stuff alone?”
“I’m sorry,” Carlo said. Tears rolled down his cheeks. “Maybe we can fix it.”
“It won’t be the same!”
Carlo ran out of the room crying.
Paulo felt awful inside. He knew Jesus wouldn’t have yelled or gotten angry. Would he ever feel the way he did after his baptism again?
“I promised I would try to be like Jesus,” he told Mom, his voice shaking. “But I’ve already messed up.”
“You did something wrong,” Mom said gently. “But Jesus also gave us a way to have the Holy Ghost with us again after we mess up.”
Paulo knew what she was going to say. “I know. Repentance. I have to ask for forgiveness.”
Mom nodded. “Then when you take the sacrament, you’ll renew the promise you made to follow Jesus. And you’ll be just as clean as you were right after you were baptized and confirmed.”
Paulo went to find Carlo. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he said. “Let’s fix the plane together.”
Carlo smiled, and Paulo felt like he had done what Jesus would do. When he said his prayer that night, he asked Heavenly Father to forgive him and to help him be nicer to Carlo. A quiet peace settled in his heart.
That Sunday at church, Paulo paid extra attention to the sacrament prayers. He listened carefully to the words. As he took the bread and water, he felt Heavenly Father’s love for him. Mom was right. That great feeling was back!

Tonight I asked Mom to teach me how to cook from scratch, like she used to before Dad died and she had to go to work. I’m tired of watching her worry about bills, and I know that cooking from scratch would save money and be healthier.
“It would take a lot of your time,” she said. I said I figured it was time for me to pull my share of the load. Mom hugged me tight. “OK,” she laughed. “Lesson one …”

My dad is in the Air Force. Sometimes he has to go on trips. I don’t like it when he has to leave. One time he had to go away for two months. I was sad, and I didn’t want him to go. The morning he had to leave, I was crying. He asked me if I wanted a blessing before he left. I said yes. In the blessing, he said that if I would obey my mom, it wouldn’t seem like his trip was so long. It really worked! While he was gone, I tried my best to be a good helper, to obey my mom, and to be a peacemaker with my two brothers. My mom and dad always tell me that being a peacemaker is one of my best talents. Jesus Christ loves peacemakers. When my dad got back, it seemed like his trip wasn’t long at all.
Derek Driggs, age 6Colorado Springs, Colorado

Maria Sanchez also has a story to tell. “When I was in secondary school,” she says, “I was very sad. I felt inferior to my friends. I was timid and didn’t like to stand up and speak in front of my classmates, although I studied hard and always knew the material. I had to make a class presentation one day, and I was very frightened, so I prayed to my Heavenly Father and said, ‘Today I have to speak in front of the class, and I’m scared. Please help me.’ I prayed with all the faith I had, and when my turn came, I stood up and started talking. I can’t remember what I said or how, but they all told me afterwards that my presentation was the best in the whole class. Since then I’ve known that I can always conquer my fears with the help of the Lord.”

Shannon from Utah, USA, shared how her neighbors helped her: “The day we buried our young son, we returned from the cemetery to find our neighborhood had come together in those hours while we were at his funeral to completely re-landscape our yard. They had planted beautiful shrubs, trees, and flowers, and even new sod. In the midst of our unimaginable sadness, their thoughtful demonstration of love and support began the healing process for us. We were reminded that love and life are eternal every year when our beautiful yard came back to life again. [It was] truly a sacred and symbolic experience that we will never forget.”

After finishing our mission assignment, I was called by President Gordon B. Hinckley to serve as a Seventy in the Church. Part of my early training as a new General Authority included an opportunity to sit with members of the Twelve as they assigned missionaries to serve in one of the 300-plus missions of this great Church.
With the encouragement and permission of President Henry B. Eyring, I would like to relate to you an experience, very special to me, which I had with him several years ago when he was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve. Each Apostle holds the keys of the kingdom and exercises them at the direction and assignment of the President of the Church. Elder Eyring was assigning missionaries to their fields of labor, and as part of my training, I was invited to observe.
I joined Elder Eyring early one morning in a room where several large computer screens had been prepared for the session. There was also a staff member from the Missionary Department who had been assigned to assist us that day.
First, we knelt together in prayer. I remember Elder Eyring using very sincere words, asking the Lord to bless him to know “perfectly” where the missionaries should be assigned. The word “perfectly” said much about the faith that Elder Eyring exhibited that day.
As the process began, a picture of the missionary to be assigned would come up on one of the computer screens. As each picture appeared, to me it was as if the missionary were in the room with us. Elder Eyring would then greet the missionary with his kind and endearing voice: “Good morning, Elder Reier or Sister Yang. How are you today?”
He told me that in his own mind he liked to think of where the missionaries would conclude their mission. This would aid him to know where they were to be assigned. Elder Eyring would then study the comments from the bishops and stake presidents, medical notes, and other issues relating to each missionary.
He then referred to another screen which displayed areas and missions across the world. Finally, as he was prompted by the Spirit, he would assign the missionary to his or her field of labor.
From others of the Twelve, I have learned that this general method is typical each week as Apostles of the Lord assign scores of missionaries to serve throughout the world.
Having served as a missionary in my own country in the Eastern States Mission a number of years ago, I was deeply moved by this experience. Also, having served as a mission president, I was grateful for a further witness in my heart that the missionaries I had received in New York City were sent to me by revelation.
After assigning a few missionaries, Elder Eyring turned to me as he pondered one particular missionary and said, “So, Brother Rasband, where do you think this missionary should go?” I was startled! I quietly suggested to Elder Eyring that I did not know and that I did not know I could know! He looked at me directly and simply said, “Brother Rasband, pay closer attention and you too can know!” With that, I pulled my chair a little closer to Elder Eyring and the computer screen, and I did pay much closer attention!
A couple of other times as the process moved along, Elder Eyring would turn to me and say, “Well, Brother Rasband, where do you feel this missionary should go?” I would name a particular mission, and Elder Eyring would look at me thoughtfully and say, “No, that’s not it!” He would then continue to assign the missionaries where he had felt prompted.
As we were nearing the completion of that assignment meeting, a picture of a certain missionary appeared on the screen. I had the strongest prompting, the strongest of the morning, that the missionary we had before us was to be assigned to Japan. I did not know that Elder Eyring was going to ask me on this one, but amazingly he did. I rather tentatively and humbly said to him, “Japan?” Elder Eyring responded immediately, “Yes, let’s go there.” And up on the computer screen the missions of Japan appeared. I instantly knew that the missionary was to go to the Japan Sapporo Mission.
Elder Eyring did not ask me the exact name of the mission, but he did assign that missionary to the Japan Sapporo Mission.
Privately in my heart I was deeply touched and sincerely grateful to the Lord for allowing me to experience the prompting to know where that missionary should go.
At the end of the meeting Elder Eyring bore his witness to me of the love of the Savior, which He has for each missionary assigned to go out into the world and preach the restored gospel. He said that it is by the great love of the Savior that His servants know where these wonderful young men and women, senior missionaries, and senior couple missionaries are to serve. I had a further witness that morning that every missionary called in this Church, and assigned or reassigned to a particular mission, is called by revelation from the Lord God Almighty through one of these, His servants.

Recently, Sharon Eubank, the director of Humanitarian Services and LDS Charities, told of an experience shared by Elder Glenn L. Pace. There was widespread drought and extreme famine in Ethiopia in the mid-1980s. To provide relief, feeding stations with water and food were created for those who could get to them. An old man who was starving was walking a long distance to get to a feeding station. He was passing a village when he heard the cry of a baby. He searched until he found the baby sitting on the ground next to his dead mother. Picking up the baby, the man continued to walk 25 miles (40 km) to the feeding station. When he arrived, his first words were not “I’m hungry” or “Help me.” They were “What can be done for this baby?”11

When I was called as a General Authority, I was blessed to be tutored by many of the senior Brethren in the Church. One day I had the opportunity to drive President James E. Faust to a stake conference. During the hours we spent in the car, President Faust took the time to teach me some important principles about my assignment. He explained also how gracious the members of the Church are, especially to General Authorities. He said, “They will treat you very kindly. They will say nice things about you.” He laughed a little and then said, “Dieter, be thankful for this. But don’t you ever inhale it.”
That is a good lesson for us all, brethren, in any calling or life situation. We can be grateful for our health, wealth, possessions, or positions, but when we begin to inhale it—when we become obsessed with our status; when we focus on our own importance, power, or reputation; when we dwell upon our public image and believe our own press clippings—that’s when the trouble begins; that’s when pride begins to corrupt.

“What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”
It was one of those days when the Mia Maids of the St. George (Utah) Second Ward couldn’t come up with an interesting activity that wouldn’t cost anything. Suddenly, inspiration hit. They’d have a recycling fashion show.
They used all sorts of donated items, like large garbage bags, paper towels, balloons, colored crepe paper, ribbon, paper plates, butcher paper, and duct tape, then let their imaginations run wild. They came up with outfits for a princess bride, cheerleader, Miss America, Queen Elizabeth, flapper, prom queen, and Little Red Riding Hood, among others.
Best of all was that this little project helped create a spirit of cooperation, unity, and love among the girls. They realize that it doesn’t necessarily require money to have fun.

Another trait that characterizes Brother Rivera is his love of the scriptures. In addition to the Word of Wisdom, it is the scriptures to which he attributes his added vitality and energy in life. “I try to read the scriptures every day,” he says. “Even with my many years, I still have a lot to learn, so I continue to study, to wrap myself in the gospel of Jesus Christ. I want to be a little better every day.”
Héctor says he sees his father reading the scriptures constantly. “In the morning when I wake up I find him reading the Book of Mormon, the Church magazines, and other Church books. Then when I go to bed at night, I see him in his room again, reading the same things. Every time I see this I marvel. When I saw how much he loved the scriptures, I began to read the Book of Mormon myself.”

Blending in isn’t always easy when you’re one of only a handful of Latter-day Saint kids in a high school of 2,000, but I managed somehow. I grew up mostly quiet, content to go with the flow and see where life took me rather than firmly planting my feet on any convictions. At 17 I knew I was nearing the precipice of big life changes, but I didn’t know how to commit to any direction. People often smiled knowingly at me, kindly telling me that I had it made and had the world at my fingertips. But I wasn’t so sure. I wasn’t sure of anything, because I still wasn’t sure who I was.
No one from the outside looking in would have known how little confidence I had in myself. I did a good job of hiding it. Though I was quiet and hardly popular, I still played on two sports teams, participated in several clubs, and sat securely at the top of my class academically. I enjoyed Church activities and seminary. I seldom realized how truly at peace I felt during those early mornings before school, poring over my scriptures before the chaos of the world set in. But the chaos always came. Though I smiled and laughed in the school hallways, none of those things seemed to really matter—I wasn’t happy. It’s hard to be truly happy when the very essence of your being is a mystery to you. I knew I was a child of God, but so was everyone else. Did I really matter in the big picture? Was I willing to put the gospel principles I’d always been taught at the center of my life and face whatever questions or mockery might arise? Who was I, really? Instead of having enough faith in myself to find the answers, I chose to almost fade away.
Just before my junior year ended, a small thing happened that would change all that. I decided to throw an after-school job into the mix of my already busy schedule, and I was very nervous about it. Working retail, I had to approach strangers and ask how I might help them, which was a daunting task for someone as shy as I was. With practice, however, I eventually came out of my shell and no longer felt butterflies each time I approached a customer. One evening just before closing I found myself helping a young man who had recently had his hair buzzed off. My town was home to a couple of military bases, and it was not uncommon to see young men with freshly-shaven heads.
After we found the item the young man was looking for, we walked to the counter so he could pay for it. As he opened his wallet, I noticed on his finger a shiny silver ring with a familiar design. I smiled at the sight of it, thrilled as always to discover another member of the Church in a place where we were so few.
“Are you LDS?” I asked, gesturing toward the CTR ring.
The young man froze, almost flinched, and his eyes then snapped up quickly to mine as though to analyze the meaning behind my words. After a moment I remembered that the young LDS marines often had it rough trying to find their place in a new town and lifestyle. I had heard stories of new LDS recruits and how hard it was to stand strong when surrounded by things a Latter-day Saint would find demoralizing. Drinking, profanity, and immorality were common, and more than one recruit suffered his share of scorn and ridicule for choosing not to participate. Did this young man think I was going to mock him or that he was going to have to go on the defensive?
His hands shook almost imperceptibly, and he stood silent. It was obvious that during those few prolonged seconds, he was making some kind of decision. At last he lifted his head and straightened to his full height, and when he spoke, a resounding conviction flooded his countenance while an undeniable light shone in his eyes.
“Yes.”
One word was all he said, but that single word meant so much. In that moment, he seemed to know who he was and what his life was all about. The example of a stranger, a young man I had never seen before, stays in my mind to this day. Whenever I feel lost, alone, or uncertain, I pose to myself the same question I so casually asked that young man at the check-out counter: Are You LDS?
Yes.
I am a child of god. I am a disciple of Jesus Christ. I am a Latter-day Saint. I serve the Lord, and I am neither frightened nor ashamed. I know who I am, without a doubt. This was a small moment that changed my life. There are moments like this in everyone’s life—moments that help define you and put everything into focus. Some are monumental and easy to recognize, but many more are small, subtle, and unexpected.

After wandering spiritually in her college years, Amanda Freebairn of the United States took the small step of praying, which led her to follow a prompting to visit her local temple grounds. “Feeling the Spirit there rekindled my faith,” she says. Returning to church and accepting a calling to teach Primary deepened her faith, and she kept taking steps that brought her to fully embrace the gospel. Along the way, Amanda observes, “I found answers to the questions I so desperately needed.”

In a refugee camp in Bataan, Philippines, I watched as one of our lovely lady missionaries sat down on the dirty floor beside an old woman who was weeping and confused and afraid. She gently pulled this woman’s head over onto her shoulder and smoothed her hair with one hand as she put her other arm around her to comfort her.
I learned that this woman had been driven from her home. Some of her family members had been killed. She had been abused and driven through the forests and jungles and finally out of her own country. She could not even speak the language of her present benefactors.
Later, as we talked of the work she was doing, the lady missionary said, with tears running down her face, “This is the finest thing I have ever done.” Many things are only interesting and enticing, while other things are important.

Sometimes we think that we have learned all that we need to know about something and that we don’t need to learn the same things over and over. I had an experience that taught me how important it is to be humble and willing to learn the same lessons again and again.
A number of years ago, while teaching at a university, I received an invitation to attend a professional seminar in Dallas, Texas. I was delighted because my wife’s sister lived there with her family. We were able to combine a family vacation with my seminar. When my sister-in-law learned of the seminar’s location, she informed me that the hotel was difficult to locate due to construction in the area. She drew up a map with numerous details to assist me in getting to downtown Dallas.
On the first morning of the seminar, I was extremely careful and gave much attention to the map. Remarkably, I made all the correct turns and arrived safely at the hotel. As I approached the hotel, I realized that it truly had been a difficult route. I knew that without the map, I would have been lost. I was pleased that I had arrived on time and never had to seek directions from anyone.
After the day’s seminar, I drove home, once again closely following the directions on the map. It was even more difficult, as I had to reverse the directions. Again, I was pleased to make all the correct turns and arrive home safely. The drive took more than an hour.
The second morning found me being a little casual about the map, due to my success of the previous day. At times, I even tried to rely solely on my recollections of the previous day’s journey. I arrived at the hotel on time, amazed at my ability to navigate in this unfamiliar city. That day the seminar instructors presented us with two armloads of books and other materials to study in the evening.
When I arrived at my car for the drive home, I tossed the map onto the backseat and put my new materials on the front seat. I started to think that my sister-in-law did not have enough confidence in my ability to drive in this city. I decided that I no longer needed the map.
I had no trouble getting onto the right interstate highway and making the correct exit to the next one. Then I took the right exit to the subdivision where my sister-in-law lived, found the right street without any problems, and parked in front of the house.
I retrieved all my materials from the car and juggled them in my arms as I picked up the evening paper from the lawn. I entered the front door and turned right, walking down the hall to the guest bedroom. I put my books on the dresser, sat down on the bed and removed my shoes, anxious to study my new materials. As I opened my first book, I glanced quickly around the room, then looked again. The furniture had been changed. I thought that my family should have told us that they were changing furniture. I looked more closely at it, thinking that I liked the old bedroom set better than this new one. I stood up and looked across the hall into another bedroom. Two teenage girls were sitting on the bed, talking. I thought that my sister-in-law must be serving in Young Women, as her own children were three young boys. The girls didn’t seem to notice me. I tried to study my materials again, but I couldn’t concentrate. A suspicion was growing in me that I had made a dreadful mistake.
By now you have realized what it took me a long time to figure out: I was in the wrong house, sitting on a stranger’s bed with my shoes off! Somehow I put on my shoes, collected my books and the newspaper, and started down the hall toward the front door. Just before I reached it, I encountered two ladies. “Pardon me,” I said. “I haven’t met you before.” Then I quickly shouted, “I am in the wrong house!” They watched calmly as I bolted through the door and tossed their newspaper onto the lawn where I had retrieved it only minutes before. My heart was beating wildly! I jumped into the car and made my getaway. I had stopped one block short of my destination.
I got myself into this predicament because I became too casual in following the road map. I learned a great principle from this experience: We can do many things right but still leave important things undone and come up a kingdom short. I had made all the correct turns on my journey home, but it was clear that I still needed to pay attention to the map.

Like many little girls, when Maria Victoria Rojas Rivera of Chile—Mavi to her friends—was four years old, she decided she wanted to become a ballerina. And like all of those other little girls, she quickly discovered that the grace and freedom she saw on the stage came at a pretty steep price. The effort and discipline required to become a professional ballerina are too much for many young dreamers.

“When you’re little, you don’t understand the sacrifice it takes,” Mavi says. “When I started studying at age 10, our teachers told us that half of our lives would be spent dancing. We’d have to give up a lot of things.”

Things like free time and certain foods. Mavi would have to put a lot of time and effort into exercising and practicing. She’d have to watch carefully what she ate. And after schoolwork and dance, there wouldn’t be much time for friends.

Mavi decided that her dream was important enough to her to try.

“The teenage years can be a complicated time,” she says. “My friends didn’t always understand why I wouldn’t eat certain things or stay out late with them.”

Mavi learned early on that what appeared to be restrictions on her freedom were actually the only way she could free herself from things that would keep her from her goal.

“I chose not to stay out late, and I chose to spend time practicing instead of going to the mall with my friends,” Mavi says. “If I was tired because I stayed out too late or if I didn’t know the steps because I didn’t practice, I couldn’t dance.”

That kind of discipline isn’t easy, but Mavi says it is worth it.

“Everyone has moments when you want to give in,” Mavi confesses, “but you have the power to choose. Discipline can appear restrictive, but self-discipline is a choice. And I chose to accept this lifestyle in order to dance.”

A ballerina can make her body move in ways that would hurt most other people. This freedom of movement is essential for communicating with the audience. But even though a good ballerina makes every move look effortless on stage, she has put in a lot of effort off the stage.

After eight years of sacrifice and hours of training almost every day, she was living her dream on stage—and in the gospel.

“People think it looks so beautiful and graceful,” Mavi says. “But the movements are very controlled. It takes a lot of strength to control yourself like that.”

“The rewards from so many sacrifices are that I can dance,” Mavi says. “I feel strong, and I feel the guidance of the Holy Ghost in every step I take—on stage and off.”