Gospel Story Finder

My wife and I have four awesome grandsons: Liam, Jack, Teddy, and Benji. When they are with us, our home is full of energy, curiosity, and chaos. We recently had the opportunity to have the three oldest stay with us for a few days. Knowing that they would be with us, I decided to start incubating chicken eggs that would hatch during their stay. I got 12 fertile eggs and started them in our incubator 21 days before the boys arrived.

When they arrived, they were excited to see what was going to happen. This is Liam and Teddy with my youngest daughter, Ellie.

When day 21 arrived, the first thing they noticed was slight movements in the eggs. Then, believe it or not, the boys started hearing muffled peeping sounds from inside the eggs! This was just the beginning of three days of excitement in the incubator.

Now, when a baby chick gets close to hatching, they need air so they can start using their lungs for the first time. Up until this point, the chick has been getting oxygen through a diffusion process through the shell of the egg that doesn’t require the use of their lungs. The first step happens inside the shell, where the chick uses a special tool—a tiny, sharp “egg tooth” on the top of its beak, which it only has during the hatching process. With this egg tooth, the chick pierces a thin membrane inside the shell, reaching a small pocket of air near the blunt end of the egg.

The next thing that the boys noticed was what is called “pipping.” This is where the chick actually breaks through the shell for the first time. You can see these pips in a few of the eggs in this picture. This single “pip” provides the chick with even more oxygen in preparation for what it will have to do in the next several hours.

While all of this is happening, the other chicks who have already hatched are drawn to the unhatched eggs to offer encouragement by peeping loudly and pecking at the unhatched chick’s beak inside the egg. When they do this, it triggers the unhatched chick to continue its work at escaping its shell. As you can see, this is hard work, even for those with cheerleading duties!

Once the chick has built up some energy after the initial pip, they start what is called “zipping.” This is where the baby chick uses its beak and special egg tooth to create a sequence of many “pips” around the circumference of the egg. All that is holding the shell together at this point is a bit of attached membrane.

Now, as an observer, it’s very tempting to want to reach in and just pull apart the shell to let the baby chick out of its cramped prison. However, by doing so, you would be depriving this chick of the necessary struggle that is required for it to develop the strength and circulation necessary for it to thrive in the world it is coming into. In fact, assisting a chick out of its egg could be fatal. So, we patiently watched, hour after hour, for the chicks to finally push themselves free of the shell.

Luis also shares an experience that shows how service and missionary work are combined in the minds of Chilean youth: “I was working with my brother on the construction of our chapel when a young man came by and stopped and watched us. Finally he approached and asked us why we weren’t out somewhere having a good time. He pointed out that it was a beautiful summer day and we could have gone to the beach or just rested somewhere in the shade. We told him that our spirits were very joyous to have this opportunity to work for the Lord and that we would have been ashamed to think that our brothers and sisters were having to do our work for us. We explained that this was a chapel for the Lord, a house of worship, and that we were eager to see it completed. That young man is now an active member of the Church.”

One day, Jonalin Y. received an unexpected phone call.
The groundbreaking for the Pago Pago American Samoa Temple was coming up, and area leaders asked 16-year-old Jonalin to share her testimony of the temple during the groundbreaking ceremony. There was only one problem. Jonalin had never been to a temple. She’d always wanted to go to be sealed to her family, but she didn’t know if that would happen anytime soon.
“When they announced that the temple was being built here, I wasn’t as excited or enthusiastic as everyone else,” Jonalin says. “I thought there wasn’t a point to be excited, because my dad is a nonmember and can’t come with us into the temple. A temple wouldn’t change the fact that my family isn’t sealed.”
Because of this, Jonalin was confused about being asked to speak about the temple. It seemed like all her friends were more excited about the temple than she was and couldn’t wait to go there with their entire families. “I just remember thinking, ‘I’m the girl with a nonmember dad. Why me?’” Jonalin says.
Soon Jonalin’s feelings about the temple started to change. “What changed my heart was being picked to share my testimony,” she says. “It was like God’s way of helping me know the temple is a blessing. I knew it was His way to put my doubtful heart at ease.”
“I’ve heard the temple is nice, it’s peaceful,” she says. “I’d really like to feel that for myself. Preparing to share my testimony gave me the opportunity to think about how amazing it will be to have a temple built so close to home. And it gave me hope that one day, according to God’s timing, my family will be sealed in the temple.”
Jonalin does her best to trust in God’s timing instead of her own. “God works in mysterious ways,” she says. “He knew the right time to build a temple in American Samoa, a time when everyone is in despair because of the pandemic, a time when the temple is needed by so many, and a time when he knew of my longing for my family to be sealed. His timing is the perfect time.”

It was years after I was a deacon when I learned what that means practically. For instance, as a high priest, I was assigned to visit a care center sacrament meeting. I was asked to pass the sacrament. Instead of thinking about the process or precision in the way I passed the sacrament, I instead looked in the faces of each elderly person. I saw many of them weeping. One lady grabbed my sleeve, looked up, and said aloud, “Oh, thank you, thank you.”

The Lord had blessed my service given in His name. That day I had prayed for such a miracle to come instead of praying for how well I might do my part. I prayed that the people would feel the Lord’s love through my loving service. I have learned this is the key to serving and blessing others in His name. …

I believe that we can magnify our priesthood service over our lifetime and perhaps beyond. It will depend on our diligence in trying to know the Lord’s will and our efforts to hear His voice so that we can know better what He wants for the person we are serving for Him. That magnification will come in small steps. It may come slowly, but it will come.

Everyone goes to retirement homes around Christmas, so why not try it at a different time of year, like Thanksgiving? So thought the Beehives of the Fairview Ward, York Pennsylvania Stake. Instead of Christmas carols, they sang Thanksgiving hymns to the residents and then visited with them awhile.
It was an especially good experience for Beehive president Audrey Parks, whose great-grandmother lives in that home. It was also interesting for Beehive Wendy Rock, who is blind and received a lot of attention from the elderly residents when she began reading from her braille hymnbook.
Several of the girls make frequent trips back to the home to visit the friends they made the day before Thanksgiving.

Just a few weeks ago, Sister Johanson was getting ready to go to the temple and for one reason or another was missing her mother who passed away right before she turned 15. As she served in the temple, she took note of the name of the person for whom she was serving as proxy. The name was Ellen, which is the name of the wonderful woman her father married after her mother passed away and who has filled the role of “mother” and “grandmother” in a marvelous way. Then she took note of the nametag of the worker who was helping her in the temple that day. Her name was Peggy, her mother’s name. Sister Johanson was reminded in that moment how much the Lord loves her and how involved and interested her mother is in her life and happiness. How grateful she was for that dear sister Being There in the temple right when and where she was needed.

One day a dear little woman named Mary Bezjian came in with her granddaughter. She had written a simple version of her personal history. Modest and unassuming, she could not believe that anyone besides her family would be interested in her. Let me tell you her story.

The Bezjians were Christian Armenians living in Turkey. Then near the beginning of the twentieth century they heard the message of the restored gospel and joined the Church. A horrible episode occurred called the Armenian Massacres. Thousands of Armenians were killed. The Bezjians were persecuted because they were Armenians. They were also persecuted by other Armenians because they were Mormons. In order to save their lives, they gathered the few belonging they could carry and fled across the border into Syria.

In Syria they established a rug-making business. Their contact with the Church was irregular. Sometimes a traveling missionary would call on them. Sometimes a church magazine would come in the mail. One of the rugs made by this Armenian family living in Syria is now on display at the Church Museum of History and Art. It is decorated with pictures of temples and prophets, all taken from the magazines.

After World War II life became precarious in Syria. Once again, under cover of night, they crossed the border, this time into Lebanon. From Lebanon they wanted to emigrate to the United States, where they had relatives and could worship according to the dictates of their conscience. But the paperwork seemed overwhelming, funds were scarce, and it proved impossible to go where they wanted to go.

Somehow they managed to move to Switzerland. There they pulled themselves together and arranged the necessary financial support. Finally, they moved to Salt Lake City and were adjusting to the new environment.

This, I thought, is an epic story! It could be made into a movie. It can inspire others. At the very least it deserves to be preserved. Sister Bezjian is no longer alive. I am very glad to have helped preserve her story.I learned that there are people in the Church today whose lives are full of drama and courage and inspiration.

Our benefits from worship in the temple have extended beyond blessing our children. On one occasion, my husband faced a very perplexing employment problem that he decided to take to the temple. On that day, the Lord blessed him with the impression that a particular scripture was the answer to his question.

Upon arriving home, he anxiously opened the scriptures and, to his delight, found help for his problem. This experience opened up a whole new application of the scriptures. The Lord can speak to His children by reminding us of scriptures that contain answers to our challenges. We appreciate this principle we learned in the temple.

We had completed all the forms for a full-time mission just before the world shut down with COVID-19. We didn’t want to get to the mission field and be sent right back home, so we met with our stake president and the Arcadia California Mission president, where we lived, to see if we could serve locally. We were immediately called to be the housing coordinators.
Just a few weeks after we began, planeloads of missionaries returned from around the world, either to be released from their missions or reassigned in the United States. The number of full-time missionaries in the Arcadia mission grew from 180 to 250. We scrambled to find housing for everyone, but the Spirit guided us.
Life experiences seem directed by the Lord to prepare us for service opportunities. Because of Relief Society, I knew sisters in the surrounding stakes who could help with zone conference luncheons. When a homeless girl appeared on the steps of the mission office, I knew the local resources that could give her aid. My husband, Mike, also had connections in the area to find solutions to seemingly unsolvable problems, from finding swimming pools for outdoor baptisms to fixing dishwashers.
Mike and I serve because we promised to devote our time and talents to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It was a blessing to love our 250 missionaries, and we are grateful for the opportunity. Service has brought us closer to Christ (see Moroni 7:44–48).
Debra and Mike O’Neil, California, USA

I had just finished doing baptisms for the dead when I received the message that one of my best friends had died. He was such a wonderful young man, and we had had so much fun together at Church activities.
I went to his funeral three days later and met his parents and friends. A girl from my ward and I sat down in the chapel, and the ceremony started with a song and a prayer. Some excellent talks followed, and a few songs were played.
I had never had a strong testimony about eternal life, but when we started to sing the hymn “How Great Thou Art,” I began to cry. The girl by my side asked if I was OK because she saw me crying so hard. But they weren’t tears of pain and sadness. It was because I felt the Spirit so strongly, and from that moment on I knew that I would see my friend again.

I have a friend who built a beautiful home and furnished it with the very best of carpets, furniture, appliances, and all that money can buy. Within its walls he kept his fine automobiles and his expensive jewelry. Then, fearful of intruders who might enter and rob him, he had installed expensive dead-bolt locks so that he had to use a key to get out as well as to get in. He put bars on the windows and doors, and was like a prisoner looking out of his own home, as one might do out of a jail. He installed costly electronic surveillance devices to turn on lights and set off sirens should any unwelcome individual enter. He landscaped largely without trees or shrubbery so there would be no place for a thief to hide. And he smugly said to himself, “Now I am secure.”

But what he did not realize is that neither bars nor dead-bolts, neither lights nor sirens nor anything of the kind would have the slightest effect on intruders of another variety who could destroy the lives of his children, despoil the marriage which had been the source of his happiness over many years, bind him with cords of meanness and bitterness and hate toward those he had once loved, and lock him in a dungeon cell of despair and misery.

Brethren, I spend much time listening to the tales of unhappy people. As a percentage of the entire membership of the Church, they constitute a relatively small number. But there are too many, and every case is a tragedy. With few exceptions, it would appear that the husband and the father is the chief offender, on whom the intruders of sin and selfishness take their greatest toll.

Brethren, I know it is an old subject, and one that has been dealt with much. But I repeat it again: Guard your homes. How foolish it seems to install bars and bolts and electronic devices against thieves and molesters while more insidious intruders come in as invited guests.

I say to you what I said to the boys—avoid pornography as you would a plague. I recall an assignment some years back to restore the blessings of a man who had been excommunicated from the Church because of his sin. He came to my office with his wife. I spoke with them individually. I asked him how it all began. He held a responsible position in the Church. He was likewise a professional man with high responsibility in the community.

His trouble began, he said, when he picked up a pornographic magazine to read on a plane. It intrigued him. It appealed to him. He found himself buying more of these things. Then he sought out movies which titillated him and excited him. Knowing that his wife would be a party to none of this, he went alone. He found occasion to leave town and go to other cities where he could more easily indulge his desires. He then found excuses to stay late at his office and asked his secretary to stay with him. One thing led to another until he succumbed.

With tears rolling down his cheeks, he sat across the desk from me and cursed the day he had read that first magazine. He spoke of his love for the wife who had forgiven him and remained true to him. He spoke of his love for his children, who had been shamed and embarrassed by his actions. He told of the hell through which he had walked for some four years from the time of his excommunication. He spoke of his love for the Church and of his desire to again enjoy its full blessings.

In the presence of his wife, I placed my hands upon his head and in the authority of the holy priesthood restored his priesthood, his temple endowment, his temple sealing, and all other blessings which he had formerly held. This great, strong man sobbed like a baby under my hands while his wife, holding her hand in his, wept like a child.

At the conclusion of that blessing, they embraced one another and he asked her to forgive him. She said she had forgiven him, and that she loved him and always would.

They were happy when they left, happier than they had been in years. And I was happy, too. But I thought of the terrible price he had paid and of the price he had exacted of his family through his foolishness and transgression.

Unfortunately, there is not always that kind of happy ending. In many cases there is divorce with bitterness and rancor. What was once love has turned to hate. Children’s lives are blighted. Hopes become as ashes. So often there is only misery and loneliness and regret.

Brethren, keep your affections within your homes. Regard as your most precious possession in time or eternity she with whom you joined hands over the altar in the House of the Lord and to whom you pledged your love and loyalty and affection for time and all eternity. Your companion, your children, and you yourself will then know and feel a security far greater than any that can be bought with hardware and gadgetry.

President Thomas S. Monson shared the experience of Jay Hess, an airman who was shot down over North Vietnam in the 1960s: “For two years his family had no idea whether he was dead or alive. His captors in Hanoi eventually allowed him to write home but limited his message to less than 25 words.” President Monson asks: “What would you and I say to our families if we were in the same situation—not having seen them for over two years and not knowing if we would ever see them again? Wanting to provide something his family could recognize as having come from him and also wanting to give them valuable counsel, Brother Hess wrote [the following words]: ‘These things are important: temple marriage, mission, college. Press on, set goals, write history, take pictures twice a year.’”

That upward reach, drawn from a knowledge of divine doctrines, transforms souls! May I share an illustration with you? Once, Sister Nelson and I were invited to the humble home of Polynesian Saints who had relatively recently joined the Church. By walking carefully on wooden planks, we approached their house, built on wooden piles emerging from the floor of the sea. We climbed a ladder to enter their little one-room dwelling. As we were invited to be seated on freshly woven grass mats, we could peek through holes in the floor and view sea water below. That home was starkly devoid of furniture, except for a used sewing machine provided by sisters of the Relief Society. But the love and warmth of this special family were apparent as our visit continued.

“We would like to sing for you,” the father said through an interpreter. He put one arm about his wife and the other about the children, as did his wife. Five little ones, dressed in newly sewn clothing, joined their parents in singing songs the father had composed.

Concluding, he said: “These songs express our feelings of deep gratitude. Before we joined the Church, we had so little. Now we have so much!”

While wiping tears from our moistened cheeks, Sister Nelson and I looked at each other, comprehending that the gospel brings spiritual wealth which may bear little relation, at first, to tangible abundance. Conversely, people with plenty can be spiritually poor. Yet the Lord is concerned for them all!

“How can I get on the bus with the rest of the choir? A ‘III’ on my solo—the most horrible, embarrassing thing that ever happened to me in all my 18 years! How can I ever face anybody again?”
As a senior in high school, I had looked forward to my solo at the state high school music festival as just about the most important event of my life. I had faithfully toiled through all the necessary preparation, including voice lessons and long, hard hours of practice. I had gone the extra mile—and then some. I was ready to savor the fruits of my labor. If I needed any additional assurance of success, I had even lent my music to some girls who had forgotten theirs and was thus in line for a reward as a good Samaritan. Most important, I prayed for help just before my turn to perform, and I knew the Lord wouldn’t let me down.
I couldn’t believe it when I was given a “III” instead of a “I” or at least a “II.” I was crushed and humiliated. Fighting back angry tears, I came to the conclusion that the Lord had deserted me. I returned to Pocatello bearing my disappointment and bitterness like crimson banners. I would not be comforted. I didn’t want to be comforted.
The next Sunday was the Primary children’s program in our ward, and I led the children in singing some of the songs. The children sang so beautifully that for a moment I forgot my pain in the warmth of the experience, but afterward the feelings of shame and betrayal returned. The following day I was surprised to receive a letter from my high school choir director’s wife.
“Dear Judy,
“You most certainly turned in a performance today! I looked at the people as the children sang, and they were enthralled. Not one of the girls who got better ratings on their solos could ever dream of making those kids sing the way they sang for you. When you were leading them, you forgot all about yourself and relaxed, and you looked radiant. I could hear you singing along with them, and it was lovely.
“I know it’s hard for you, but please try to believe that your talents far outweigh the more obvious ones that the world makes so much of. I have grown fond of you in the last year, and it really hurts me to see you disillusioned and unhappy. The Lord loves you and has many wonderful things waiting for you. It will be a shame if you are too blinded by your own desires to recognize them when they come. Please have faith in those who love you and believe them when they tell you that the things that seem to matter the most sometimes turn out to matter least.
“I’ll never forget how proud I was of you today or how you thrilled me and all who were there with the beautiful way you handled the children. I have already forgotten what ratings those soloists received, but I will never forget a young lady whose sweet, loving spirit can make children sing like angels.
“Judy, today you rated a ‘I.’“Love, Mona”
I will be forever grateful for that good sister. Her wise letter taught me some important things that day 11 years ago. It taught me that everything is more beautiful when done for others. It taught me that service is more important than recognition. It taught me the importance of waiting and trusting. It taught me that no contests are held to judge the most important talents of all.
But in the end I learned more from her than I did from her letter. By reaching out, unasked, to a troubled young girl, she taught me that when she signed her letter “Love, Mona,” it wasn’t just a formality, it was a whole approach to life.
I have tried to live up to the rating she gave me that day.

Growing up, I was raised in a non-denominational Christian home, which I loved. I was, and always will be, incredibly grateful for my family and the things they taught me about God and Jesus Christ. But when I graduated high school, Southern Virginia University reached out to me to play lacrosse on a scholarship. I was hesitant because this school was affiliated with the “Mormon” Church, which I had always been told was crazy.
But for some reason, I knew this was the school I needed to attend.
The first thing I noticed about my classmates who were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was that they had genuine intentions to do good. I knew from the Bible that I could assess others’ character by their fruits (see Matthew 7:15–20). And the only “fruit” I saw from these Church members was goodness.
Curious, I started asking questions, particularly to a classmate named Coleman, who talked with me for hours about the gospel. When he began preparing to serve a mission, I joined him in reading scriptures every morning. At first, I was cynical about The Book of Mormon. But I started pondering what we read, and I could see the light in the words. I knew I needed to seek the truth for myself.
That April, I watched general conference for the first time and heard President Russell M. Nelson give a talk on faith. He spoke about tiny mustard seeds, saying:
“The mustard seed represents a small but growing faith.
“The Lord does not require perfect faith for us to have access to His perfect power. But He does ask us to believe.”1
With my growing and curious faith in mind, I developed a desire to deepen the roots of my faith in the true gospel. So, I started going to church with my roommates. I fasted and prayed to really know if the Book of Mormon is true.
When I prayed, I felt the Spirit so strongly. It felt like the Savior and Heavenly Father were sitting with me, Their hands on my shoulders. I knew I had found the truth. And I believe They were comforting me because They knew I had a hard decision to make.
I called my mom and told her I had something important to tell her. She jokingly asked if I was joining the “Mormon cult.” When I told her I was indeed going to be baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we both cried. It was a difficult conversation, but I knew I couldn’t deny the truth I had received.
Coleman was able to baptize and confirm me. His family and all my friends from school came to support me. I felt so much love, especially from Heavenly Father.
But my decision to be baptized really strained my relationship with my family. My parents believe I worship a different God now and am bound to go to hell. My 12 siblings all have their own opinions about me joining another Church too. Sometimes it feels like I’m walking on eggshells in our relationships, so I continue to pray their hearts will be softened. I feel the support of the Holy Ghost, and while my family is still adjusting, we make sure we know that we love each other.
Coleman is serving a mission now, but he, his family, and my other ward friends still support me daily. I don’t think I could have made it through this past year without them. And I recently received my temple endowment. The temple has been so helpful to me when I need peace and guidance.
Though not having support from my family has been incredibly hard, God has blessed me beyond what I expected and has given me many mercies as I move forward with faith.
Like Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles described, “The Lord’s tender mercies are the very personal and individualized blessings, strength, protection, assurances, guidance, loving-kindnesses, consolation, support, and spiritual gifts which we receive from and because of and through the Lord Jesus Christ.”2
It’s been a long journey, but through my struggles, I’ve turned to Jesus Christ and strengthened my foundation of faith in Him. If you are in a situation where your family doesn’t support your faith in the gospel, you can still have peace and hope in the Savior. I know that as we focus on the daily blessings and tender mercies of the Lord, we will continually become more confident in our testimonies and in His grace. He will always lead us to wonderful blessings like good friends and peace and joy in our hearts. Even in difficult trials, He will always provide us with goodness!

Brother Folau Neria and his wife, Leute, think of Sauniatu as a place of blessings because they have seen the Lord’s hand there. They were dorm parents while most of the work was being done, and Sister Neria worked with the girls who made one of the roads.
Brother Neria explained his feelings about Sauniatu. “I love that place. That’s where I met my sweetheart in 1942. Some of the first schoolteachers there taught me. I learned to take care of the work of the Lord there.
“We built that place with our hands and made it beautiful, then the Lord blessed it for us. Taros, bananas, everything grows better there than in any other place in Samoa.
“We learned how to work together and to teach each other to work. I was serving as bishop, and I learned that if we show people how to work and start first, they will soon follow.”

If you haven’t had such “revelatory moments,” listen to David O. McKay’s experiences as a young teenager:
I thought that the only way a person could get to know the truth was by having a revelation or experiencing some miraculous event, just as came to the Prophet Joseph. One day I was hunting cattle … [and] 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." The Lord did not see fit to give me an answer on that occasion, but in 1899, after I had been appointed president of the Scottish Conference, the spiritual manifestation for which I had prayed as a boy in my teens came as a natural sequence to the performance of duty. (General Conference, Oct. 1968)

President McKay enjoins us to patience in things spiritual and points to a natural unfolding of revelation in our lives as we fulfill our responsibilities in the gospel. Viewed in this way, revelatory moments take a position within the broader fabric of our lives. They take their meaning from that context, both in contrast to our everyday mundane experience but also as we come to see the spiritual in the mundane.

[A video was shown of the Russells talking to the audience from the hospital room:]
[Deedra Russell:]
We appreciate Elder Holland letting us share our testimonies with you all today. I know that we wish trials weren’t a part of our life, but one thing I’ve learned these past few months, which have been really, really hard for me, is that we have a very loving Heavenly Father, and the reason He lets us go through these ­trials is so that we can learn things about ourselves. We can learn to have faith, and we can learn to be strong. And especially we can learn to rely on our Savior. Heavenly Father definitely sends us angels. He sent us so many people to help us! He lets other people help us during our lowest moments. I don’t think that I would have had such a strong testimony of just how much Heavenly Father really loves us if I hadn’t gone through these things.

[Troy Russell:]
A few weeks after Austen passed away, a friend came up to me and said that I had gone through the worst thing that anyone could ever go through. I thought about it for a minute, and I said, “I don’t agree with you. I think the worst thing that any of us could ever go through is to not be with our family for eternity.” In these past four months there have been three or four times when I didn’t know if she was going to make it, but in the back of my mind I knew that even if she didn’t, we had been sealed in the temple for time and all eternity. And that was what really mattered. The only thing I believe that we truly own is our ability to make choices. Our bodies are a gift from God. The air we breathe is a gift from God. All the material things can be taken away at any time, but the one thing we have is our agency. And what is so beautiful about the struggles and trials and difficulties that we have is that they allow us to use our agency: whether we can forgive or not forgive, whether we can show love or kindness, or whether we can help people. We hope you all know that we love our Savior. We know that He died for us, and because of Him we can be together as a family. We just hope that we always use our agency to forgive ­others who have wronged us, that we always show love and kindness, and that we always are there for other people. And we leave this with you in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

When I first heard the gospel, I loved it and knew I wanted it to be a part of my life. I wanted to be married someday to a returned missionary, have children, and live happily ever after. I fell in love with the most wonderful guy. He was also a convert. After he served his mission, we were married in the Washington D.C. Temple.
Five years and two children later, I found myself sitting in a general conference broadcast all alone. My children had stayed home with their father.
I will never forget the feelings I had that day. The “happily ever after” I longed for seemed to be slipping from my hands. My sweet husband, the returned missionary I married in the temple, was struggling with activity in the Church. I prayed for him and put his name on the prayer roll in the temple. Still, he chose not to attend church. It was heart wrenching to hear my two-year-old son plead, “Come to church with us, Daddy.”
As I sat in conference that day long ago, my soul was stirred by the excellent talks, but I also felt saddened. I so wanted my husband there. We were on this earthly journey together, but we were walking different paths. I needed strength to carry on. Sitting alone at church with a newborn and a two-year-old can be trying under any circumstances, but we were living in a new city, in a big ward, and many of the members were students just like my husband. I thought I was the only one who had a less-active husband, and I felt out of place. But I plastered on a smile and continued going to church, all the while dying inside.
During conference that day, the congregation rose to its feet to sing “How Firm a Foundation,” and I simply sat there. I did not have the energy to stand.
As the third and final verse began, I started to feel different. Something was changing, and the sweetness of the Spirit engulfed my whole being as I listened to the words:
Fear not, I am with thee; oh, be not dismayed,
For I am thy God and will still give thee aid.
I’ll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand, …
Upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand.
(Hymns, no. 85)
Then one of the most amazing moments of my life happened. It seemed to me that someone was literally helping me to stand. I looked around, but no one was there. From that moment I was a changed person. I knew I was not alone. And in that one instant I knew that someday all would be well.
A smile came to my face in a recent sacrament meeting—18 years after that conference—as my husband was released from the bishopric and called to be the Young Men president. I received a new calling too—the one I’ve feared my whole life—Relief Society president. Feeling overwhelmed, I felt my heart skip a beat as the closing hymn was announced: “How Firm a Foundation.” My tears always flow when that hymn is sung, and on that day they were in abundance. They were tears of gratitude, and I knew again that all would be well.

For some, faith is not understood and consequently not used to full advantage. Some feel that any discussion of religion and the guidance one can receive through robust faith have no rational basis. However, faith is not illusion nor magic but a power rooted in eternal principles. Are you one who has tried to exercise faith and has felt no benefit? If so, you likely have not understood and followed the principles upon which faith is founded. An example will illustrate what I mean.
Years ago I participated in the measurement of the nuclear characteristics of different materials. The process used an experimental nuclear reactor designed so that high-energy particles streamed from a hole in the center of the reactor. These particles were directed into an experimental chamber where measurements were made. The high-energy particles could not be seen, but they had to be carefully controlled to avoid harm to others. One day a janitor entered while we were experimenting. In a spirit of disgust he said, “You are all liars, pretending that you are doing something important, but you can’t fool me. I know that if you can’t see, hear, taste, smell, or touch something, it doesn’t exist.” That attitude ruled out the possibility of his learning that there is much of worth that can’t be identified by the five senses. Had that man been willing to open his mind to understand how the presence of nuclear particles is detected, he would have confirmed their existence. In like manner, never doubt the reality of faith. You will gather the fruits of faith as you follow the principles God has established for its use.