Gospel Story Finder

Several years ago I attended a seminary graduation in Hawaii. A handsome young Hawaiian athlete was being honored. He had been blessed with a well-formed body, and he had excelled in several sports. As athletes often are, he was well known both in and out of the Church. His athletic coaches had trained him for the most part in the coordination of his physical powers, adding a little on such virtues as determination and courage.
He said it had not been difficult for him to achieve athletically. If he practiced and kept the training rules, the muscles of his body responded as he wished and he had coordination and control.
Then he talked of a control that did not come easy and said: “I found it is easier to control the muscles in my arms and legs than to control the muscles in my tongue. I found it easier to control my eyes on the playing field than on the street. It is not easy to control what I will hear. Most of all, it is not easy to control my thoughts.” He then expressed gratitude for the seminary program and paid tribute to his seminary teachers. They were the coaches who taught him control over the most permanent part of his nature.

A sister with Down syndrome testified at a legislative hearing in Utah to protect unborn children diagnosed with Down syndrome. She boldly stated that she and others like her had a right to live. Afterward, she stood and gestured to all the committee members and stated, “And I love all of you!”
Lisa Wilson testified at a Utah legislative hearing to protect unborn children with Down syndrome.
Photograph courtesy of Lisa Wilson’s family

Ray Dunham, who was not LDS when he arrived at the academy, found himself looking for Latter-day Saints. “I’m from Oklahoma City, and in high school I had some LDS friends. I figured if I could find other Mormons they’d be a good influence on me.”
He met Keyan Riley from Salem, Utah, verified that he was LDS, and “I thought to myself, I found one of you!” They became roommates, Ray eventually joined the Church, and both he and Keyan resigned, served missions, reapplied, and were permitted to return to the academy.
Ray, who had come to the academy with a twin brother, “had to reassure my parents that the academy wants returned missionaries because they’re good people. Once my parents realized I wasn’t giving up, just serving a mission with the hope of getting back in, they felt more at ease.”

I recall the time when I was ordained a deacon. Our bishopric stressed the sacred responsibility which was ours to pass the sacrament. Emphasized were proper dress, a dignified bearing, and the importance of being clean inside and out. As we were taught the procedure in passing the sacrament, we were told how we should assist Louis McDonald, a brother in our ward who was afflicted with a palsied condition, that he might have the opportunity to partake of the sacred emblems.
How I remember being assigned to pass the sacrament to the row where Brother McDonald sat. I was fearful and hesitant as I approached this wonderful brother, and then I saw his smile and the eager expression of gratitude that showed his desire to partake. Holding the tray in my left hand, I took a small piece of bread and pressed it to his lips. The water was later served in the same way. I felt I was on holy ground. And indeed I was. The privilege to pass the sacrament to Brother McDonald made better deacons of us all.

Armed with hoes, shovels, saws, and wheelbarrows, 90 Aaronic Priesthood holders and Young Women of the Salt Lake Monument Park 15th Ward descended on the Brighton Branch chapel in the Wasatch Mountains for an ecology-in-action service project—a general beautification of the natural grounds surrounding the mountain chapel.
For the past five summers the Brighton Branch has presented Celebration, a depiction of the ten-year anniversary in Brighton of the Saints’ arrival in the Salt Lake Valley. A concrete memorial commemorating the event and an amphitheater with natural timber seating makes this annual summer pageant a meaningful reminder of the arrival of the pioneers in the Valley. The service project was intended to help make the outdoor setting more beautiful for the pageant and for the church members who attend services in the chapel during the summer. The young people volunteered to landscape the grounds around the chapel, which nestles at the foot of several ski lifts rising thousands of feet up the Wasatch Mountains.
The youths spread four truckloads of topsoil, planted 90 shrubs and trees, moved large boulders, cut down dead trees and sawed them into logs, and erected volleyball standards.
The priests and Laurels enthusiastically cut down several dead trees for firewood and cleared an area for additional seating in the amphitheater. The cry of “Timber” rang through the forest, and all hands watched from a safe distance as the massive dead trees fell to the ground. They were then sawed into log sections and split. Teachers dug holes for volleyball standards and poured concrete. The Mia Maids assisted them in digging holes and planting 90 shrubs and trees.
The Beehives and deacons spread and leveled four loads of topsoil. They also moved firewood and stacked it for use in the fireplaces.
Following an outdoor chili supper prepared by the quorum and class presidencies on the new concrete pageant stage, the youths enjoyed several square dances. As darkness fell, the group was invited inside the Brighton chapel where the theme presentation, prepared by the young people themselves, was presented. A testimony meeting was held during which many expressed their appreciation for an opportunity to help others while having such a great time in beautiful surroundings. Several commented that they would bring their own families here in years to come to show them the trees they had planted.

During one conference in Poland in 2010, I met Radu. He was from Romania. We talked briefly, but he soon left on his mission and our paths didn’t cross again until another YSA conference three years later. There we had the time to actually get to know each other a little bit, but I was leaving on my own mission a month later. Radu wished me all the best and said, “Let’s keep in touch.” I didn’t really think he would, but he did. He wrote me letters throughout my mission. There was nothing romantic in his letters, but he became one of my dear friends. And I loved the respect he had for me and for missionary work in general.
When I returned home, Radu and I were both very excited to properly get to know each other—we could finally make it happen after so many years! We picked an affordable place for both of us to meet (which was Belgium at the time) to spend some time together. We talked and talked and talked some more.
We didn’t put any pressure on our relationship. We focused on building a friendship and simply getting to know each other. We always had so much fun together, but we also had very meaningful and profound discussions about the things that matter most. Over the next while, our friendship grew stronger. We Skyped almost daily, and over time we started saying nightly prayers together. We eventually started visiting each other’s country every few months.
After a while, I started feeling anxious because I felt like our friendship was developing into something more. But he was from Romania! I didn’t want to get into a long-distance relationship because a relationship could lead to marriage, which meant one of us would have to move to another country. I didn’t feel ready for that.
One day when I was feeling particularly anxious, Radu reminded me of a simple yet powerful principle. He said, “Let’s pray about our relationship and see how we feel.”
I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought about praying about our relationship earlier. But that was the best advice I received at the time. So I prayed for guidance.
I didn’t expect any specific answer at that moment, but I decided to keep moving forward with getting to know Radu. I hoped Heavenly Father would give me a warning if our relationship wasn’t something I should continue. But over time, the answer I had asked for did come. I had conversations about Radu with my family and friends, and in every conversation I was reassured I was going in the right direction.
Soon I had a funny realization. After having yet another great Skype call with Radu one night, I said to myself, “He really is the best friend I’ve ever had. I want to be his friend forever!” That’s when it hit me. Immediately a voice in my head replied to my own comment, “Well, then you need to marry him!” I knew that Heavenly Father was smiling upon my relationship with Radu. I could see that he was my best friend and that we could be happy together.
So I moved to Romania and married Radu. Never in my mind had I thought I would end up in Romania. But we’ve been married for four years now, and we have a wonderful daughter, Amelia.
I know what you’re thinking—I’m just another one of those young single adults who met my “soul mate” at a YSA conference and things worked out effortlessly. But that’s not true. The reason I tell you this story is for you to stop pressuring yourself to find your eternal companion and instead let God guide you.
Did I go to those YSA conferences to find a husband? No.
Did I think that one of the guys I met there would become my husband? Not really.
Instead I took the pressure off finding whom I wanted to marry and I simply went to these conferences to connect with others and build friendships—which was exactly what Radu and I did in the beginning.
The pressure to find our eternal companion as soon as possible can be so real sometimes. But there is no time limit on eternal relationships. There’s no need to stress over it. Life isn’t about getting married, but rather becoming the best version of ourselves and letting God work His plan in our lives. Yes, we should all go out there, show up, meet people, make new friends, and get out of our comfort zones. But we should do so with the thought, “I’m going to have fun and meet some great friends” rather than “I have to keep my eyes open to find ‘the one’ or I’m going to mess up my entire life plan!”
One thing Radu told me when we were engaged was that although he usually felt a bit stressed around girls he liked, he didn’t feel that way with me. He said because of our friendship, he always felt relaxed and like he could always be himself.
So look for good people to surround yourself with and enjoy where you are now. Because honestly, when you stop stressing out and just choose to build friendships and learn to love who and where you are, that’s when life becomes much more enjoyable.
Radu and I aren’t perfect. We weren’t really looking for the “perfect” person—we were just being ourselves. What I’ve observed is that who you truly are and how you live is what is most attractive to others. When you strive to follow Jesus Christ, you will attract others who are doing their best to follow Him as well.
I’ve also learned that as we become better and have full faith that God is in charge, we will invite His hand into our lives—and when we recognize His hand, there is no need to fear for the future. Remember what the Lord taught Nephi: “And I will also be your light in the wilderness; and I will prepare the way before you, if it so be that ye shall keep my commandments; wherefore, inasmuch as ye shall keep my commandments ye shall be led towards the promised land; and ye shall know that it is by me that ye are led” (1 Nephi 17:13).
We weren’t meant to put constant pressure on ourselves for not meeting certain expectations or milestones in our own time frame. Truly, Heavenly Father’s time is different than ours—it’s eternal. He has a plan for us to fulfill every blessing we seek. And when we do our best to trust His plan and find fulfillment in whatever circumstances we find ourselves in, that’s when we will find true happiness. His plan will always be better than the one we have for ourselves.

Of course, holiness to the Lord in everyday life includes coming more often to the Lord in His holy house. This is true whether we are Church members or friends.
Three friends came to the Bangkok Thailand Temple open house.
“This is a place of super healing,” said one.
In the baptistry, another said, “When I am here, I want to be washed clean and never sin again.”
The third said, “Can you feel the spiritual power?”
With nine sacred words, our temples invite and proclaim:
“Holiness to the Lord.
“The House of the Lord.”
Holiness to the Lord makes daily living sacred. It draws us closer and happier to the Lord and each other and prepares us to live with God our Father, Jesus Christ, and our loved ones.
As did my friend, you may wonder if your Heavenly Father loves you. The answer is a resounding, absolute yes! We can feel His love as we make holiness to the Lord ours each day, happy and forever. May we do so, I pray in the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I do not think we’re less grateful than other people—but we have so much more to be grateful for. This was driven home to me as a young man when my grandfather, who had been the bishop of a little country ward in Whitney, Idaho, told me about a visit made to his house by Elder Joseph F. Smith, who would later become President of the Church.
Grandfather said that they were seated in the living room/dining room combination of the farmhouse. The table was laden with good things to eat. The family was gathered around. Just before they were ready to start the meal, Elder Smith stretched his long arms over the table and turned to my grandfather and said, “Brother Benson, all this and the gospel too!” What did he mean? All this and the gospel too! The food represented the material blessings of life—food, clothing, and all the rest. This family of children—home, family, loved ones—all that the world has and the gospel too. I think that’s what the President had in mind.

About 15 years ago I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. Four years later my health was steadily declining, and I was using a wheelchair. I felt extremely frustrated by my condition because for my entire life, I had been very active.
About that time I went to a conference in Dundee, Scotland, attended by President Thomas S. Monson, then a counselor in the First Presidency. Following the meeting, a member approached me.
“Brother Sharkey?”
“Aye?”
“Come down to the front to see President Monson.”
I had no intention of doing that, but a few minutes later the man returned.
“Brother Sharkey,” he said, “President Monson is waiting to see you.”
“But he doesn’t know me,” I replied.
“Even so, he is waiting to see you. He has heard about your illness.”
I agreed and went to see President Monson. He greeted me warmly and asked whether I would like a priesthood blessing. I told him I would.
We found a room, and President Monson asked whom I would like to anoint me. I asked if we could send for my bishop. When someone left to find him, one of President Monson’s traveling companions reminded him that if they didn’t leave soon, they would not make it to the Edinburgh airport on time.
President Monson smiled and, referring to himself and to me, responded, “When you’re our age, you learn to prioritize. We’ll be there in time.”
When my bishop arrived, he and President Monson administered to me. The blessing President Monson gave me was not a blessing of healing; it was about managing my condition and its accompanying ailments. It was also a blessing for my family to be able to help me in managing my disease.
Now, a decade later, I still have Parkinson’s, but at age 74 I am doing well. I have indeed found ways to manage my illness. I feel good, and I have not used a wheelchair since the day I received the blessing. My doctor calls me his “star patient.”
I will always be grateful to President Monson for his kindness in speaking to and blessing a man he didn’t know. But I’ll also be grateful for what he taught me about using the priesthood.
We hold different keys and offices in the Church, but we hold the same priesthood. President Monson’s kind act taught me that the priesthood isn’t about who holds it but about how we use it to bless the lives of Heavenly Father’s children.

For Damien, serving others was a natural part of growing up. He enjoyed going with his dad to help others move. “Service is what I am meant to do,” Damien says. He has often looked for ways to serve others—for instance, landscaping or sharing his technical abilities. So when he was asked to help with the Just Serve Club at his high school, Damien was ready to make it happen.
Damien had been a member of the Just Serve Club before. But when the previous leaders graduated, he was mostly on his own. Damien began the process of rebuilding the club.
It took a lot of work to recruit new members. During the week at the beginning of the school year when students promote the school clubs, Damien worked every day inviting people.
One young woman, Abby R., was excited to join. “I always wanted to be in the Just Serve Club,” she says. Her older sister had been president of the club a few years before.
She loves doing simple acts of service like opening a door or bringing treats for a friend. But the Just Serve Club provided a way to serve in bigger ways. “I went to every service activity I could,” Abby says.
At club meetings, members work together to write encouraging notes in cards for people in the local hospital or gather supplies for boxes to go to disadvantaged children. “It felt good to serve and help others during their struggles,” Abby says. “And service is a great way to connect with your peers.”
Damien says, “Watching students come together talking and laughing while they make cards helps me feel the Spirit.”
Damien and Abby have both found that service gives you an opportunity to think more about others and not just yourself. “You can get caught up in yourself and what you need to do for school,” Abby says. “Taking time to think about others and what’s going on in their lives helps you think about the Savior. It brings you peace and makes you happy.”
Abby has found that service brings her closer to the Lord as she is doing what He would want her to do. Damien has discovered serving and giving back is a way he can follow the Savior’s example. “The pure love of Christ is charity,” Damien says. “I try to embody charity, and it has helped me to grow so close to Christ.”
“Anywhere there is a need, you can make a difference,” Damien says. “That’s what Christ’s work is all about.”

At the bottom of a blue, topless sky an angry prairie wind slashed at the flanks of a big red-rock mesa and leapt over its rim like a giant ocean wave.
A twelve-year-old Navajo boy was seated against an ancient, gnarled tree that grew out of the split stone at the top of the mesa. He squinted as he carved a figure from a piece of wood. Suddenly a voice called out of the dirt-laden wind, “Billy Walking Horse.”
The boy looked up and saw his grandfather, White Cloud, approaching. “I’m here, Grandfather,” he answered.
White Cloud, his long white hair streaming in the wind, stopped beside the youth. He was Billy’s father’s father. Billy had enjoyed the company of the old man with the claylike face ever since he had come the week before. What Billy had especially enjoyed was the long drive to town with his grandfather in the old pickup truck. White Cloud had sung tribal songs, told stories, and laughed. Billy had missed the sound of laughter in his own home. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever hearing it. What intrigued the boy most, though, was the glow in Grandfather’s eyes. Billy wondered why his father’s eyes didn’t shine like that—or his mother’s.
“What is this you carve, Billy Walking Horse?” the old Indian inquired as he sat down cross-legged beside the boy. Billy held up a carving of a rearing wild stallion. White Cloud took it carefully and regarded it closely. “It looks alive! Who taught you this great skill?”
“No one, Grandfather,” the youth responded. “It’s like something is inside the wood, just waiting for me to let it out. Sometimes it’s a bird or a rabbit or a horse. I just have to whittle it free of the wood around it.”
Grandfather studied the boy and the horse, then said thoughtfully, “This talent you have is a gift from another of your fathers, perhaps a great-great-great-grandfather. It is a gift of love to you.”
Billy looked from the horse to his grandfather and said slowly, “I wish one of them had a gift to give to my father, one that would take away his pain.”
White Cloud sighed. “I, too, have noticed this pain. Such is the lot of many of our people. They are not alone in their suffering. Our forefathers suffered also.”
“But why is life so hard for my father, Grandfather? He’s a good man. It isn’t fair. I don’t understand.”
The old man stood and rested a weathered hand on Billy’s shoulder. “Always remember that heaven is up. It is steeper for some of us than for others. Maybe this is good. It means that some of us will try harder. Then others can take courage from our example, as we must from our fathers.”
White Cloud pointed to the old, gnarled tree that they had been leaning against. “Look. This old tree has not grown without effort. It has cleft that large stone and has become strong. It will stand for a long time—not like a tree that grows in soft earth without struggle and falls in the first little wind. This tree’s roots must be as deep as ours.”
Billy looked into Grandfather’s eyes. “You keep talking about our forefathers. Why? And why is the light I see in your eyes brighter whenever you speak of them?”
White Cloud smiled. “The wish you spoke of, a gift to your father from his fathers? There is such a gift. That is why I came to visit you and your family.”
“What is this gift, Grandfather?” Billy asked excitedly. “Where did you get it?”
The smile in Grandfather’s eye’s grew even brighter.
“The gift is a book, a record written by our forefathers. It was given to me by two young men from far away. I came to share this wonderful book with my family.”
“What book, Grandfather?”
“It is called the Book of Mormon. Its knowledge, its light, is the gift of our fathers to us. It says that they labored diligently to write it for us [2 Ne. 25:23]. It is our book!”
Billy’s eyes widened. “It was really written for us?”
“Yes, Billy Walking Horse—for me, for you, for your mother, for your father,” the old man affirmed. “It is for all our people, whether they be called Bolivians, Indians, Polynesians, or some other name.”
The wind whipped up the side of the mesa again, moaning as it swirled dust across an outcropping of jagged rocks. White Cloud motioned toward the sight. “The Book of Mormon speaks to us as a voice ‘crying … out of the dust’ [Moro. 10:27] to give us strength and courage, hope and confidence.”
“What does it say, this written voice?” Billy asked.
“It speaks of great promises and an even greater destiny that is our sacred birthright if we, like this old tree, master the storm. Great destinies, Billy Walking Horse, require great effort and bring great reward, in this life and the life to come. Our worldwide seed, being one family, shall blossom as the rose. Such is the promise, and so it shall be.”
Billy Walking Horse asked eagerly, “When will you talk to my father about these things, Grandfather? About this voice that cries out of the dust? I want to see the light I see in your eyes and hear the laughter I hear in your heart in his eyes and heart also.”
“You will, Billy Walking Horse. We shall all read this great record, this gift from our fathers—the Book of Mormon—together.”

Spiritual strength frequently comes through selfless service. Some years ago I visited what was then called the California Mission, where I interviewed a young missionary from Georgia. I recall saying to him, “Do you send a letter home to your parents every week?”
He replied, “Yes, Brother Monson.”
Then I asked, “Do you enjoy receiving letters from home?”
He didn’t answer. At length I inquired, “When was the last time you had a letter from home?”
With a quavering voice, he responded, “I’ve never had a letter from home. Father’s just a deacon, and Mother’s not a member of the Church. They pleaded with me not to come. They said that if I left on a mission, they would not be writing to me. What shall I do, Brother Monson?”
I offered a silent prayer to my Heavenly Father: “What should I tell this young servant of Thine, who has sacrificed everything to serve Thee?” And the inspiration came. I said, “Elder, you send a letter home to your mother and father every week of your mission. Tell them what you are doing. Tell them how much you love them and then bear your testimony to them.”
He asked, “Will they then write to me?”
I responded, “Then they will write to you.”
We parted and I went on my way. Months later I was attending a stake conference in Southern California, when a young missionary came up to me and said, “Brother Monson, do you remember me? I’m the missionary who had not received a letter from my mother or my father during my first nine months in the mission field. You told me, ‘Send a letter home every week, Elder, and your parents will write to you.’” Then he asked, “Do you remember that promise, Elder Monson?”
I remembered. I inquired, “Have you heard from your parents?”
He reached into his pocket and took out a sheaf of letters with an elastic band around them, took a letter from the top of the stack, and said, “Have I heard from my parents! Listen to this letter from my mother: ‘Son, we so much enjoy your letters. We’re proud of you, our missionary. Guess what? Dad has been ordained a priest. He’s preparing to baptize me. I’m meeting with the missionaries; and one year from now we want to come to California as you complete your mission, for we, with you, would like to become a forever family by entering the temple of the Lord.’” This young missionary asked, “Brother Monson, does Heavenly Father always answer prayers and fulfill Apostles’ promises?”
I replied, “When one has faith as you have demonstrated, our Heavenly Father hears such prayers and answers in His own way.”
Clean hands, a pure heart, and a willing mind had touched heaven. A blessing, heaven-sent, had answered the fervent prayer of a missionary’s humble heart.

Illustration by Allen Garns
Our family has a Christmas tradition of giving gift bags of food, gloves, hats, and other necessities to those in need. In 2016, Christmas Eve was especially cold for the area of California, USA, we live in. We were bundled up, but we were still shivering!
As we drove to a park near our home where many people who are homeless stay, we saw a man huddled in the meager shelter of a bus stop, covered in an old blanket. My husband, Dennis, stopped the car and took our son, Jonathan, with him to give the man a gift bag. Our daughter, Abbey, and I stayed in the car and watched.
The man lifted his head as Dennis handed him the bag. A huge smile spread across the man’s face. They shook hands and began to talk. This was unusual because normally there isn’t much of an exchange.
After several minutes, Dennis returned to the car and opened the trunk.
“Is everything OK?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m giving him my parka. He needs it more than I do.”
I was speechless. This was a really nice parka that Dennis had worn only a handful of times! Dennis went back to the man and helped him put on the warm parka. The man’s face was beaming. Dennis and the man continued talking.
I felt compelled to meet this man. I opened my car door, and Abbey followed me. Dennis smiled as we approached, and he introduced us to the man. I extended my hand and asked for his name.
He took my hand, smiled warmly, and replied, “Jesús.”
My family continued the conversation, but I didn’t hear much after that. I kept thinking of the significance of this sweet man’s name: Jesús—the name of our Savior. In that moment, I was reminded of the Savior’s teaching: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matthew 25:40). That experience forever changed me.

Again, my young brethren, in my boyhood I remember one time when the sheriff startled us when he came and announced that under the floorboards of the porch of the home just up the street from where we lived they had found a considerable cache of stolen articles. The young man who lived in that home was termed a kleptomaniac. He seemed to have a mania for stealing things, even items he had no use for himself. Numerous people in the town had been reporting that their buggy whips and their buggy robes were taken. Here they were under the porch, and this boy finally admitted to having stolen them. I remember how shocked we fellows were—how we pitied him because he had developed this terrible weakness!
Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “Every man takes care that his neighbor shall not cheat him. But a day comes when he begins to care that he [does] not cheat his neighbor. Then all goes well. He has changed his market-cart into a chariot of the sun.” (The Complete Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson, New York: Wm. H. Wise and Co., 1929, p. 585.)
This boy did not know how our acts follow us and how that which we sow we are sure to reap. And every experience we have adds to or draws from our lives. We cannot think ugly thoughts or do ugly things without retribution.

You will very likely hear these words in your lifetime: “Are you a Mormon?” Perhaps it will be when your friends see that your drink of choice is root beer. Or maybe it will be when you decide to turn down a date to the school dance because you’re not yet 16 years old. Whatever the situation, you most likely won’t be asked at gunpoint. And your answer won’t determine whether you live or die. But that was the way it was for 19-year-old Joseph F. Smith.
After serving a four-year mission in the Hawaiian Islands, from 1854 to 1857, young Joseph F. Smith began his long journey home to Utah. He boated across the Pacific Ocean to San Francisco, then slowly began his journey by foot with a small company of Latter-day Saints.
One day when the company had stopped to camp and rest, a group of troublemakers came storming through. Most of the men ran and hid, but Joseph decided he had nothing to be afraid of, so he continued the task of piling firewood in the camp. As he did so, one of the men approached him with a pistol, declaring that it was his duty to exterminate every Mormon he came in contact with. As he pointed his pistol at Joseph, he demanded, “Are you a Mormon?”
Without fear or hesitation, Joseph answered, “Yes siree; dyed in the wool; true blue, through and through.”
The man was so startled by the courage of young Joseph F. Smith that he dropped his pistol and said, “Well, you are the [expletive deleted] pleasantest man I ever met! Shake, young fellow, I am glad to see a man that stands up for his convictions.” The man rode off, with the others following behind (Joseph Fielding Smith, Life of Joseph F. Smith, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1938, 189).

Atticus P., 12, Utah, USA
I love playing soccer and making stop-motion videos. Last summer, I turned 11 and was so excited that I could be ordained to the priesthood in a year.
I decided to prepare myself for these ordinances. I became more sensitive to the Spirit and repented of my sins. Soon after, President Nelson announced new changes in the Church that meant I could get ordained before I turned 12! I was grateful I had prepared to receive the priesthood so that I could be worthily ordained at the beginning of this year.

When Carol first searched for her ancestors 50 years ago—it was difficult and expensive, especially when looking for English relatives while she was living in Australia. FamilySearch has been such a blessing to her; no need now to sit and read microfilms to search out her family.
“I can remember the thrill I felt when I saw a copy of the original marriage certificate of my grandfather on a microfilm and saw his signature and that of my grandmother. I’m sure that my grandad would never have thought that one day his granddaughter would be sitting at a microfilm reader looking at that same certificate image from faraway Australia.”

This legacy was passed to me by my father, Merrill M. Oveson, the youngest in the family of 13 children. He and my mother, Mal Berg Oveson, also from a faithful lineage, were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple, boarded a train, and went to Oregon to further my father’s education. They remained for more than 40 years, during many of which they lived in a very small farming community where we were the only members of the Church.
I have often thought how easy it would have been for my parents simply to change their faith and join their many friends in the community’s Christian church. This action would have simplified life for them, especially during the World War II years, when rationing of gasoline and tires made it impossible for them to travel the 40 miles to the nearest organized branch of the LDS Church. Instead, they received authorization to have a home Sunday School, which they faithfully held weekly during all those years. There we shared the sacrament as a family. There my brother and sisters and I learned the principles of the gospel and listened to Bible and Book of Mormon stories literally at the feet of our parents.

Increasing our faith usually starts by exercising faith in our Savior and in His promise that we will be blessed when we keep His commandments. The following story found in the Church History Centre in Johannesburg perfectly illustrates this truth.
When Johnny Poo Shuping was sixteen, he met missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The glow they carried with them attracted him. He said, “They were looking for somebody to teach, and they found me. We set an appointment, and my spiritual awakening began.”
However, not long after beginning the lessons, Johnny’s father reminded him that their family belonged to a different church. He refused to allow Johnny to be baptized and insisted that he attend the family church. Finally, Johnny and his father reached a compromise: Johnny would be allowed to attend the Church of Jesus Christ only after he had attended his family’s church first. He recalled, “So for the next two years, I woke up early on Sunday mornings to attend the 7 a.m. service at the local chapel in town and would then run swiftly . . . to make it on time for my sacrament and priesthood meetings.”
When Johnny was old enough to serve a mission, he had completed his first year of university education. Because of his excellent grades, he had received financial aid to pay for his schooling. However, if he left school to serve a mission, he would lose his scholarship, and all his work to get good grades would have been in vain. Johnny took a leap of faith: he decided to earn money and prepare for a mission.
With no support for his decision at home, he treasured the support and encouragement of a family in the Church. He was grateful for the important role they played in his life for the two years he prepared for his mission. They were almost as excited as he was when he submitted his mission papers and received his call to the Uganda Kampala Mission.
Johnny diligently served his mission, even extending his time there. But eventually, he knew he had to return home, mend his relationships with his family, and figure out what to do about school.
After his return—after exercising his faith by choosing to prepare for, then serve, a mission—Johnny enrolled in the university, knowing he had a huge outstanding debt from previous years, since his scholarship had been invalidated when he left. He recalled, “Discouraged a bit and not knowing what to do, I felt I should get to campus one morning to check exactly how much I owed.
“The lady at the administration center printed out the account, and I anxiously scanned through it, looking for the ‘balance due’ section on the bill. I couldn’t find it. What I found instead was ‘credit.’ I asked the lady at the desk to explain to me what that meant. She looked into the details and found that some financial aid program had come across my grades and, impressed with what they saw, paid the entire outstanding fee I owed the school.
“Furthermore, the amount listed under the ‘credit’ section was money given to me for my good grades. What a tender mercy! I sat there, drowning in amazement at the thought that I was debt-free and ‘confused at the grace that so fully He proffers me.’1
“I remembered President Ezra Taft Benson’s (1899–1994) promise that ‘When we put God first, all other things fall into their proper place or drop out of our lives.’2 I experienced the truth of that promise.”
Johnny went on to earn a degree with honors in communications and has launched his own enterprise. He obeyed the commandment to serve a mission and has never regretted taking a leap of faith and trusting in the Lord.
Based on A Leap of Faith, Everyday Saints of Africa, Marnae Wilson and Midge Nielsen, Africa Southeast Area, 2015.

Grandmother was visiting us, and we were just ready to go out on a fun family outing when a minor disaster struck—we couldn’t find the keys to the car. Children, parents, and Grandmother searched everywhere, but the keys were not to be found, and we thought in dismay that we would probably have to stay home. Then Grandmother excused herself and went into her bedroom. In just a few minutes one of the children suddenly found the keys just barely hidden under a corner of a rug.
As we drove happily to our outing, someone asked Grandmother, “Why did you go into your bedroom instead of looking for the keys?” Grandmother’s answer was absorbed carefully by five young children: “I knew how disappointed everyone would be if we didn’t go on the outing so I went in and prayed that we could find the keys. I knew we would find them after that.”