Gospel Story Finder

The newly varnished hardwood floor resounds with the pounding of 20 feet and the intermittent squeaking of sneakers as someone does a quick pivot or makes a sudden stop. There is the normal assortment of shouts (“Over here!” “That’s the way!”) as the players put all their effort into the last crucial minutes of the closely scoring game. Suddenly the orange orb makes a satisfying swish as it falls, seemingly effortlessly, through the net at one end of the court, and as the buzzer jangles, a happy shout echoes through the gymnasium. The winning team crowds around the maker of the last-minute basket, hugging and congratulating each other.
Sound familiar? It would, if the shouts of joy weren’t decidedly high-pitched and feminine and if the hero was not a blonde, blue-eyed, and also decidedly feminine girl named Mechelle Hill.
Mechelle may be used to the fanfare of victory, but she doesn’t show any selfish pride as she rejoices with her teammates now. Her face is flushed with exertion, and she brushes her long hair off her shoulders to cool them, but her expression is not weary.
She is still not weary later as she sits in the shade outside the physical education building at the University of Utah, where she is participating in a girl’s basketball camp. This morning they had divided into teams for a tournament; this morning Mechelle had also been chosen to be on the camp’s all-star team, which included many other top high school athletes. It is the final day of the week-long activity, but Mechelle is going strong and is just a bit anxious to get back to the courts. “I like to be up and around, doing things,” she smiles.
The bright blue eyes sparkle a little as she says that, for few things could be truer. The Gunnison Valley (Utah) High School senior had just completed a first-in-state season on the basketball team, had captained a second-in-state softball team, and had been a star participant on the volleyball and track teams. If that weren’t enough, she had graced the boys’ games as well as she high-stepped to the band music at halftime as captain of the drill team. She doesn’t recite all her accomplishments at once but remembers them sporadically with an “Oh, yeah—” and a bit of surprise that anyone would be interested. “I just like to be active,” she grins in surprise at the lengthy list. And there is still more she will not remember until later, when her proud mother reminds her.
It is apparent, talking to Mechelle for the first time, that she has learned about more than slow-pitching and free throws in the course of her competition. She speaks of the excitement of winning, the sense of exhilaration when energies are spent and you’ve done your very best. But more than that, she emphasizes the personal growth that can be had from working together with a group of people for a common goal, of giving of yourself freely. Gospel principles come through as the conversation progresses and it becomes clear that multi-talented Mechelle has developed a philosophy to help her make the best of this expanding, exciting world of women’s sports. “A woman, especially, has to keep her perspective and remember who she is,” says Mechelle seriously. “You can still play basketball and be feminine.” She is living proof of that.
If Mechelle is a unique person, perhaps it is because of her unique position in her family. She is the third oldest of six children—and the only girl. Her father, Bruce, played basketball for BYU, and older brothers Jeff, 20 (now on a mission), and Greg, 18, set a precedent of athletic prowess. The year that Mechelle was a junior, Greg was a senior—and was voted the most outstanding basketball player on the boys’ team. He was also high scorer in the state tournament, in which his team placed fourth. Mechelle was high scorer in her own tournament, and the brother-sister team scored over 200 points in that small stretch of time. Younger brothers Ronnie, 15, Richard, 13, and Bryant, 11, show every indication of following suit.
Following in Mechelle’s footsteps would require a very busy agenda. As well as school sports, she likes to play tennis (“Especially on dates!”), water ski, and swim. Fall brings pheasant hunting (she outscored her brothers on a gun safety test) and dirt-bike riding in the canyons surrounding Gunnison. School itself is fun for Mechelle, who not surprisingly likes PE classes best, but she also enjoys home economics. In fact, she was elected president of the Future Homemakers of America chapter at Gunnison Valley High. Cooking and drawing “are a couple of the few things I will sit down for,” she laughs.
Competition does not take up all of Mechelle’s time and energy. “Winning is important,” she says, “only because it makes you want to do your best. Winning isn’t everything. If you play your hardest and still lose, then that is the way it was meant to be. You’ve got to learn from your experience.”
Learning, not only about the game but about people, is perhaps the best thing about playing on a team, believes Mechelle. “It helps you to get to know other people and to work with them, even though you might be shy. I was a delegate to Girls’ State last year, and I didn’t know a soul. I found my experience in team sports helped me to get involved.”
Team sports for girls are often criticized because of the feelings of rivalry between teams and the harsh attitudes that sometimes develop. Mechelle recognizes this and has learned to cope with it: “Some girls do get ‘tough’—there is a lot of strain and tension. But our basketball team, which is all LDS, tries to keep its cool. Once there was an awful lot of tension in a game, and we all felt it. Afterwards, I said, ‘Hey, you guys, let’s go talk to them.’ Now we’re really good friends with that team.”
The breeze lifts her hair away from her face, which is cooling as she catches her breath. She describes the special relationship her basketball team had, and though she is still animated, there is a serenity about her soft-featured face.
“We would say a prayer before every one of our games, and I would kneel beside my bed before I went, too. I could really feel the Spirit. At our last championship game, we said our prayer, and the Spirit was so strong that we all started crying. Things like that bring us closer together, and we are just like one person playing out on the floor.”
The girl who minutes before was bounding down the basketball court is now a little pensive as she leans her chin in her hands. “I see people in wheelchairs and I feel so blessed. I think if God gives you a talent you should use it; I’m so grateful for what I have, and I hope I can serve people in some way.”
Suddenly her features are lighted up again as she sits straight. “One way I am able to serve is in teaching Junior Sunday School. I’ve got the four-year-olds, and they’re so special! I really love little kids. I’d like to have at least four of my own, and have them grow up together the way my brothers and I did.” Suddenly the interview time is over, and as quickly as she appeared she is bouncing down the stairs back to the basketball court.
The Hill living room in Gunnison is cool and calm after the helter-skelter of the basketball camp, but Mechelle is still as vivacious. In one corner is a lace-covered table on which are propped pictures, trophies, portraits, and certificates collected by the family in the past few years; examination reveals many team photos of both sexes and of several sports. And there are snapshots of the Hill family, who seem to function as a team—without the competitors.
Out in the heat of a southern Utah midday, a box elder in the backyard flutters its leaves and casts a flickering shadow across a large cement square that has been a project of this special ‘team.’ Sister Hill promises that it will soon be a mini basketball court.
“We like to do and accomplish things together,” says Mechelle as she kneels on the grass to play with the family’s three dogs. “We have a camper up in the canyon that we use as a home base for dirt-bike riding, and we like to go skiing and golfing as a family.”
“It’s a lot of fun,” agrees Sister Hill. “Even when it’s hectic, we try to support them in all of their activities. One day we drove over 400 miles to attend both Greg and Mechelle’s tournament games! We feel we have really good relationships.”
Perhaps it was in this family setting that Mechelle first learned what teamwork means. Wherever that lesson was learned, home was the place where she began “never sitting still” as she played with her five brothers. “We always played running games, like cops and robbers, and later we’d shoot baskets and play catch,” she remembers.
As time went on, it became apparent that not only the male members of the Hill clan were endowed with athletic ability. When she entered high school and expressed an interest in basketball, her mother was wary. “It took me about a year to get used to the idea,” admits Sister Hill. “I guess I wanted her to be a dancer or something. But now (she looks at her daughter with pride), we can really see her talent and are thrilled about her success. And her brothers have gained a new respect for her.”
“They’re so funny,” giggles Mechelle. “At one of my games I had a foul called on me, and Greg jumped up and yelled at the ref, ‘That’s my sister, and she doesn’t make fouls!’”
If the brothers had any reservations about having a basketball star for a sister, they don’t now. Perhaps it is because she is still the generous, helpful sister she always has been, and sports have not made her lose that spark of lively femininity she has always had. And it has helped, not hindered, her eternal outlook. “A lot of girls would like to be professionals, and quite often I think it detracts from their desires for a family. Up until a couple of years ago, I kind of wanted to be a pro too, but I’d never do it at the expense of my family.”
It has altered one thing, though, and that is that Mechelle would like to marry an athletic man. “I’d like him to be involved in sports,” she smiles, “but not necessarily professional.” She enjoys dates with boys who play tennis and other coed sports and says that both have fun “no matter who wins!”
But marriage seems a little far away now as she enjoys another year of high school. After graduation she plans to attend college and major in—what else?—physical education.
Mechelle is excited about what the next few years will hold, both on the courts and off. She is a winner in more ways than one.

One weekend last November, Heidi, a young Mormon mother here in Salt Lake City, left her large and gracious home on a gray morning and drove over to Pioneer State Park and entered the restored home of Mary Fielding Smith.
Heidi was costumed in a dress reminiscent of one Mary might have worn, and for the entire day she welcomed young children from a nearby school into this small home, where she helped them learn to dry apples.
After the children left, the sun broke through the clouds overhead, illuminating not only the afternoon sky, but casting a reflective glow on the events of the day. That evening Heidi recorded in her journal, “I was overwhelmed by the exceptional beauty I could see from that little adobe house on the hill. … I could hardly contain the light that streamed through the wavy glass window into my soul bringing feelings that were both very warm and very bright!”
She told about the contrast she felt between the small home in which she stood with its meager appointments and her own lovely house on another hill not far away. She wrote, “I hope my home is my family’s place of strength, of faith, and of refuge, a place where truth is confirmed and testimony is strengthened, as Mary’s little home had been for her family so long ago.” She continued, “Despite life-styles so different, I was overcome by hearts so similar. My soul pleads to make the similarities count for my family, as they had for hers.”

During my senior year in high school, I realized that I wouldn’t be seeing my family very much. With homecoming activities, honors classes, and my job, the hours I spent at home were few and far between. In the mornings I would kneel with the family for prayer. Then with a quick amen and hugs all around, I’d rush out the door to the bus. A foil-covered dinner would greet me each evening when I arrived home late. The rest of the family was asleep, so a textbook propped up against my glass of milk was my only company as I ate.
Later, I’d tiptoe upstairs and whisper good night to my sleeping parents. Mama would prop up a little on her elbow, “How was your day?”
“Fine.” The standard answer, but one they accepted.
I’d feel my way down the hall into the dark bedroom where my five other sisters slept. I always made sure I kissed them each on their cheeks and whispered, “I love you.” I wonder if my words ever entered their dreams. Then, setting my alarm clock, I’d say my prayers and crawl into bed.
Life continued like this for several months. I was just too busy.
Then one morning I was awakened by a flashlight shining directly into my eyes. Startled and peering past the bright beam, I was surprised to see my Papa clad in pajamas and robe with a big grin on his face.
“What time is it?” I asked, yawning.
“4:00 A.M.,” said Papa, his face never losing the grin.
“You’re kidding. Is something wrong?”
“No,” he said, “follow me.”
I crawled out of bed and sleepily followed him downstairs. As I rounded the corner, I was surprised to see the living room light on and a small table pulled up to the couch. On the table were two dishes of ice cream with chocolate cookies stuck in the top. It looked very inviting.
“What’s this?” I asked incredulously.
“Have a seat,” Papa said. He took me over to the couch and sat me down. “All right, let’s talk.”
“Papa, you’re kidding. No one gets up just to talk and eat ice cream at this hour.”
“I know, but I haven’t seen you for a while, and I wanted to know how things are going in your life.” He hugged me and handed me some ice cream.
As we ate, we talked, really talked, for the first time in many weeks. Papa wanted to know about everything: How’s school? Work? Grades? Are you okay for money? Do you have a boyfriend? Are you healthy? How are you doing spiritually?
One by one I answered his questions, told him my concerns, and asked for advice. My heart thrived on the love I felt from him. With 10 other children in the family, how could he possibly care so much about my life? But he did. Momentarily all the bills, work, Church callings, and the interests of a dozen other people he had to care for were forgotten. He was concerned about me. On that couch, side by side, giggling, laughing, and sharing the deepest feelings and thoughts within us, we passed the early morning hours. We talked long after the ice cream was gone.
It has been many years since that morning. I don’t live at home anymore, and now it’s normal not to see Papa or the family for a few weeks or months. But that four o’clock morning is engraved on my soul, a memory sweeter than ice cream. That morning I really knew someone cared—my father.
Many times since then, when life gets rough, I have been awake at 4:00 A.M., wishing for someone to talk to, wishing for someone who cared enough to ask me those questions. Papa cannot drive the many miles to shine a flashlight in my face. And most people are too practical to serve up ice cream at four in the morning.
However, even when my papa isn’t there, I know from his example of another Father who also watches over his daughters and his sons. A Father who is willing to listen about school, about problems, about life; one who knows us so well that He can see into and feel our hearts; a Father who understands perfectly the world we are facing, our fears and hopes, and asks all the right questions.
That morning reminds me of Heavenly Father, a Father who is omniscient and omnipresent. This Father, too, is always willing to talk, no matter what time it is. And that’s even better than 4:00 A.M. ice cream.

I’d like to tell you of an experience of a faithful Latter-day Saint who is a good friend of mine. I’ll refer to him only as “my friend” for reasons you will understand.
Working as a special agent for the FBI, my friend investigated organized crime groups transporting illegal drugs into the United States.
On one occasion he and another agent approached an apartment where they believed a known drug dealer was distributing cocaine. My friend describes what happened:
“We knocked on the door of the drug dealer. The suspect opened the door and, upon seeing us, tried to block our view. But it was too late; we could see the cocaine on his table.
“A man and a woman who were at the table immediately began removing the cocaine. We had to prevent them from destroying the evidence, so I quickly pushed the drug suspect who was blocking the door to the side. As I pushed him, my eyes met his. Strangely, he did not appear angry or afraid. He was smiling at me.
“His eyes and disarming smile gave me the impression that he was harmless, so I quickly left him and started to move toward the table. The suspect was now behind me. At that instant, I had the distinct, powerful impression come into my mind: ‘Beware of the evil behind the smiling eyes.’
“I immediately turned back toward the suspect. His hand was in his large front pocket. Instinctively I grabbed his hand and pulled it from his pocket. Only then did I see, clutched in his hand, the semiautomatic pistol ready to fire. A flurry of activity followed, and I disarmed the man.”
Later, in another case, the drug dealer was convicted of murder and boasted that he would have also killed my friend had he not turned around at that very moment.

Scott was asked to give a talk in his sacrament meeting in the Bluebell Ward, Altamont Utah Stake. He chose to talk about his involvement in raising guide dogs. He read the scripture, “For behold, it is not meet that I should command in all things; … Verily I say, men should be anxiously engaged in a good cause, and do many things of their own free will, and bring to pass much righteousness” (D&C 58:26–27). Scott explained that raising puppies to be guide dogs is a way he can help others. It’s a good cause that takes lots of time and daily devotion. Scott explains, “Kennel dogs won’t make it as guide dogs because the puppies have to be raised with love. We don’t really have to worry about teaching them, but our responsibility is to love and care for them.”

Frequently the heavenly virtue of patience is required. As a bishop I felt prompted one day to call on a man whose wife was somewhat active, as were the children. This man, however, had never responded. It was a hot summer’s day when I knocked on the screen door of Harold G. Gallacher. I could see Brother Gallacher sitting in his chair reading the newspaper. “Who is it?” he queried, without looking up.
“Your bishop,” I replied. “I’ve come to get acquainted and to urge your attendance with your family at our meetings.”
“No, I’m too busy,” came the disdainful response. He never looked up. I thanked him for listening and departed the doorstep.
The Gallacher family moved to California shortly thereafter. Many years went by. Then, as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, I was working in my office one day when my secretary called, saying, “A Brother Gallacher who once lived in your ward is here in the office and would like to talk to you.”
I responded, “Ask him if his name is Harold G. Gallacher who, with his family, once lived at Vissing Place on West Temple and Fifth South.”
She said, “He is the man.”
I asked her to send him in. We had a pleasant conversation together concerning his family. He told me, “I’ve come to apologize for not getting out of my chair and letting you in the door that summer day long years ago.” I asked him if he was active in the Church. With a smile, he replied: “I’m a counselor in my ward bishopric. Your invitation to come out to church, and my negative response, so haunted me that I determined to do something about it.”
Harold and I visited together on numerous occasions before he passed away. The Gallachers and their children filled many callings in the Church.

In 2019 my husband Doug and I returned home after serving as mission leaders in Arequipa, Peru. Doug’s back had been bothering him the last few months we were there, pain we attributed to long trips in the mission van to be with our missionaries.
So, when we got back to Utah, Doug saw an orthopedist, who ordered physical therapy and then injections. As neither helped him, it was suggested that Doug have surgery. But the surgery didn’t relieve his pain; it got worse. So a second and then a third surgery were performed.
After three surgical tries, various treatments, and nearly four years, Doug was worse and never without pain.
I spent more than a week with Doug in St. Louis, Missouri, where he had a fourth surgery performed by an expert on spinal reconstruction. Doug’s spine now has all the right curves. It’s vertically straight—less than one centimeter to the left. And he has curvature in the lumbar spine so that he can stand up straight. He’s aligned again.
Doug did not get into alignment alone. He needed the help of a surgeon. If Doug had tried to carry this burden on his own, he would have remained misaligned. He couldn’t fix it alone.
The last few years have been a journey for Doug and for me. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone, but the experience of watching someone I love battle pain has smoothed down some of my rough edges and improved my still imperfect patience.
More than ever, Doug and I have relied on the Savior’s healing, comfort, and enabling power made possible through His atoning sacrifice. Doug wasn’t immediately provided with physical relief; what we got was a more sustained and deeper relationship with Jesus Christ. His covenantal promises have never felt more significant to us. In a way we hadn’t before, we tested His promise that we could “always have his Spirit to be with [us]” (Doctrine and Covenants 20:77). That promise is real and fulfilled even in the midst of suffering.
The Savior provided us with spiritual and temporal relief, through the Comforter and through the acts of other people. As covenant keepers have aligned themselves with Jesus Christ, they have brought us closer to Him and have been instruments in His hands to help us experience His relief.

Institute has made missionary work easier for Kimberly Pace. She had been trying to get her nonmember stepsister, Missy Shirley, to go to church with her ever since junior high. But with no success.
When Kimberly arrived at A&M, she enrolled at the institute. “I really liked it here,” she says, “and it really seemed to me institute would be something Missy would like too. So I invited her.”
The invitation couldn’t have come at a better time. Missy had been looking for a religious extracurricular activity. “My main goal was to learn,” Missy says. A lot of the religious groups she had visited were mainly social groups, or if they had lessons, the teachings were vague. But when Kimberly told Missy about institute, “It sounded like a pretty well-rounded activity,” Missy says. Institute had meaningful lessons as well as social events.
Missy ended up going to institute classes and activities with Kimberly for the rest of the semester, and over Christmas break she even asked if she could return. “Institute is a little closer to home in my heart than some of the other places I visited,” Missy says.
But Missy isn’t the only one to gain from her institute activity. Her interest “has kept me going,” Kimberly says. “I wouldn’t have gone this much without her. And when I worry about her it brings me closer to God.”

I grew up as a cowboy working on my family’s cattle ranch. One of my jobs was to gather hay from the fields with a dump rake, which is a giant rake pulled by a team of two horses. Driving the team, I raked up hay and dumped it into large piles. One day when I was 11, I thought I heard something broken in the rake. I pulled on the reins to stop the horses. When they stopped, I let go of the reins and jumped off to see what the problem was.
As soon as I got off, the horses turned around and looked at me. When they saw that I had let go of the reins, they bolted away, racing for the barn with the big rake bouncing along behind them. I was left far behind, alone and afraid.
When the horses got to the barn they ran through the door, but the dump rake was too big and it crashed into the barn. The doors were badly damaged and so was the rake. I knew I was in trouble.
This experience taught me to never let go of the reins, not even for a moment. Lehi’s dream in the Book of Mormon also teaches about never letting go of something—the iron rod, which is the word of God. We should never let go of the iron rod, not even for a moment. If we hold onto the gospel principles tightly, we will get where we want to go, which is back to live with Heavenly Father. If we let go of the gospel principles, bad things can happen very quickly. We must always try to choose the right and never let go of the iron rod.

“I had a great experience when I graduated from Primary. Back in those days we each had a green bandalo. I had lost mine. I looked everywhere, including under my bed and through everything in the closet. Finally my mother said, ‘Why don’t you pray about it. Ask Heavenly Father to help you find it.’ So I went to my room and prayed. Even as I was praying, a voice seemed to say, ‘In the dresser, caught underneath the drawer.’ The dresser was in the hall because there wasn’t enough room in my tiny bedroom. When I pulled out the drawer and reached up inside, there it was, caught on a silver! That was the first direct answer to prayer that I can remember receiving. I was proud that I could wear my bandalo when I stood next to Bishop Rulon Sperry as he nominated me to graduate from Primary and to be ordained to the office of a deacon.

“Why don’t you ever come with us?” the girl shouted. “Don’t you want to be a part of our group?”
It was the end of spring, and school was almost out. During breaks we played soccer outside, and I was the goalkeeper. As goalkeeper I was used to dodging and blocking oncoming attacks from the field. However, this game was different because I had to dodge and block attacks coming from the sidelines too.
In between the offensive assaults of the other team, I was being interrogated by a couple of girls in my class who were standing on the side of the field. To avoid their questioning, I would have welcomed the other team over for a free shooting contest, but I was not having much luck that day.
“So why don’t you ever come to our parties?” she continued. “Don’t you want to have a little fun?”
“A little fun!” I thought. Being at a party with my classmates, playing silly games, and feeling forced into uncomfortable situations was not my idea of fun. I’d rather stay at home.
“We’re all trying to get to know one another, and you are never there,” came another attack from the sideline.
“That’s right!” I said. And I would have explained why if I felt she and the others really wanted to understand. But I doubted it. How could they? I was the only Latter-day Saint in my school, and none of them understood much about the Church or its standards.
“Don’t you like any of the girls in our class?” she asked.
“It’s not about not liking them,” I said. “I’d just feel uncomfortable.”
“But why?” she poked.
My team had just lost the ball, and all the guys were now running in my direction.
“Why would you feel uncomfortable?” she poked again.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion as my eyes focused on the approaching ball. Her voice was the only thing I heard, and the constant “why,” “why” kept echoing in my head. My opponent was clear for the shot, and I could see that the ball was going to hit me hard. But I was ready. He kicked the ball, which bounced off my hands with a loud slap. “Yes! Another assault successfully frustrated,” I thought, grinning. I grabbed the ball and threw it down the field to my teammates and then turned to face my other opponents.
“So?” she said.
My heart was still racing from the excitement of the game. “The reason I’m not coming to your parties is …” I started, then paused, thinking for a moment.
“Is?” she repeated a little anxiously.
I looked down the field again to see the opposition approaching fast. My heart picked up a couple of beats, and I knew I had to finish what I started to say. “Is because I am saving myself for someone special!” I blurted out.
“What!” she exclaimed.
My opponents were upon me, and my attention was again fixed on the game. The ball whistled through the air, penetrating my defenses. The other team cheered, while the girls stood there laughing.
“Saving yourself for someone,” she said, giggling. “So what is her name?”
I felt embarrassed. Although I didn’t have anyone special in mind, I still knew that one day I would meet my future wife, and I needed to be worthy to take her to the temple. That’s why I didn’t go to their parties.
My hands still tingled and my heart continued to race as I walked home later, yet there was a slight grin on my face. I might have suffered humiliation on the field that day; however, I walked away feeling victorious.

A second lesson was taught by the New York firefighters and policemen who put duty before life. As the occupants of the towers were coming down the stairwells, they met the firemen going up. A new set of heroes was born. Recently an eight-year-old boy was leaving Shea Stadium in New York after a Mets baseball game. As he was crossing the street, he saw a police officer directing traffic. The boy approached him and asked the officer if he would sign his baseball glove.

The policeman looked at the young boy and said, “Don’t you want a ballplayer’s autograph? Why a cop’s?”

The boy answered, “Because you saved the world.”

There is a greater respect and awareness today for those civil servants who risk their lives in the course of duty.

My whole life I have read about people receiving answers to their prayers, and felt left out and different. It seemed as if everybody always got their prayers answered but me—until I had an experience that changed the way I feel about prayers being answered.
My seminary teacher had assigned us to write a letter to someone in the class about how important it is to read the Book of Mormon. That evening my sister and I were in our room, and I was trying to think of something to write. My sister was on her bed listening to the radio. She suggested that I could write Doctrine and Covenants 1:37 in my own words. I tried, but I was still having trouble. She asked if I wanted her to turn off the radio and go out of the room so that I could say a prayer. I said yes, so she turned off the radio and went out.
I knelt down and, instead of praying in my mind like I normally do, I said the prayer out loud. I think it is one of the most sincere prayers I have ever given in my life.
I asked Heavenly Father to help me know what to write and to be able to have the Spirit with me while I was writing the letter. When I was through with the prayer, I could feel the Spirit very strongly and decided to follow my sister’s advice and write Doctrine and Covenants 1:37 [D&C 1:37] in my own words. After I finished writing I decided to look for more scriptures. As I was looking, Doctrine and Covenants 6:15 [D&C 6:15] caught my eye:
“Behold, thou knowest that thou hast inquired of me and I did enlighten thy mind; and now I tell thee these things that thou mayest know that thou hast been enlightened by the Spirit of truth.”
I couldn’t believe it! I felt like that scripture was a confirmation of the guidance I had been given by the Spirit to write my letter. Through the scriptures, I had not only received an answer, but I had also been able to recognize it.

Roger had been a valuable employee throughout his successful career. But company ownership changed, the workforce was reduced by 25 percent, and Roger’s position was eventually eliminated. Though he had not anticipated losing his job, he never dreamed he’d have a difficult time finding work as an engineer.

Roger’s former employer provided the assistance of a professional outplacement firm. The firm assured him that with his expert skills and valuable experience, unemployment wouldn’t last long. Although Roger dutifully searched the job market and distributed copies of his résumé, days turned into weeks and weeks into months, and Roger became discouraged. “I felt extremely frustrated, knowing I was capable and experienced enough to provide for my family, yet being unable to find an opportunity to do so,” he remembered. After more than seven months of unemployment, funds from Roger’s severance package were gone and the family’s savings were nearly exhausted.

After learning of Roger’s struggle, his ward employment specialist encouraged him to participate in the professional placement program at the Michigan Detroit LDS Employment Resource Center. A woman in attendance at the next weekly networking meeting was looking for employees to work in her manufacturing company. She was impressed by Roger’s valuable skills and experience. A job interview followed shortly thereafter and a job description was written specifically to fit Roger’s skills.

When the Lord took me to Australia, I thought my heart would break because of the extremes in my experience. And, gratefully, it did break! It broke open when I started reaching to feel what my head knew was true. Before I left home, I knew the Church was true and understood the gospel well enough to live by it and teach it to others, but the pain of the separation from my family and friends made me want to feel the comfort of His love like I had never wanted it before. Even though I was with my best friend, my husband, I still needed to know and to feel that the Savior was with me--always, just like He promises. Facing little that was familiar to me, I needed to know that He would guide me no matter where I went. I understood that such a blessing of the Spirit's constant companionship depends upon my faithful living. Now my living took on new purpose and meaning. I wanted to be better at "always remembering Him." My heart broke open with the desire to reflect His light the way I could see His light reflected in others. My actions became expressions of my longings to belong to Him, and to be like Him.

I have always very much liked the painting of the Savior in the wine-colored robe. For a long time that picture was how I thought of Him--as a picture. But then, in my thirst, I dug through the scriptures, I scraped away the false illusions as I prayed, and I stretched myself further to live what I was learning. Then, as the poem says, "after many days," He became real to me--He became a living, breathing being that I could feel. It is not that I have seen Him with my eyes. But my feelings for him run deeper than ever before. I feel so tender for Him. And I know how He feels about me; that He wants to be with me, too. This testimony is real, as real as the knowledge that I will be with Him someday--at Home. That was the jewel that I dug for and now live for. It was waiting for me to unearth it, with the Savior's help, from the landscape of my heart. And now, because I am always in this process, as my heart's opals are soaking in the Light of the Son, God's Son, I rejoice in what I feel for Him.

When I turned to him, He ran to me. If you will turn to Him, He will run to you.

When I was 16, my friend Shruti and I were adventure-hunting on a trail when we found a breathtaking waterfall that fell 80 feet next to a small beach. We were on a cliff toward the top of the waterfall and decided we would climb down the cliff so we could make it to the beach below and go exploring.
There was a fence that stood between us and the path down the cliff with a sign that said: “Warning: No Trespassing.” But we were in search of adventure and wouldn’t let a sign stand in our way.
We climbed over the fence and slowly started down the cliff. The descent was exhilarating. When we finally got to the bottom of the waterfall, we were excited.
However, it didn’t take us long to figure out what we had done. We were at the bottom of the cliff with the tide coming in. Climbing back up looked much more difficult than coming down had been. At any time the tide could come in and carry us out to sea.
When we were at the top of the cliff we had choices. We could have kept walking on the trail, we could have gone back to the car, and we could have simply enjoyed the view. But because we chose to ignore the warnings, now our only choices were to be washed out to sea or to climb back up the steep cliff.
Our decisions in life affect us the same way. When we choose the right, we have more choices and more freedom. But when we make choices contrary to the will of the Lord, our options become more and more limited until we are enslaved by our choices and lose our freedom.
Shruti and I did what we should all do when we’ve fallen into this trap. We knelt down and confessed to Heavenly Father that we had made a wrong choice and that we needed His help to fix it.
The climb back to the top of the cliff was slow and hard, but with the Lord’s help we made it. From this experience I learned that all of our choices have consequences, but Heavenly Father is willing to help us if we turn to Him.

One day there was a conference in our city. My parents were excited and grateful when they learned we would have Elder Marvin J. Ashton (1915–94) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles among us.
On the day of the conference, the chapel was overflowing. My mother could not get close to Elder Ashton. When my six-year-old brother saw my mother’s despair, he managed to get through the human barrier and reach him. He asked Elder Ashton to bless his brother who was very sick and insisted that he come to where we were. But Elder Ashton couldn’t come at that moment. We prayed for an opportunity to meet him at the end of the conference.
To our surprise, at the beginning of his talk Elder Ashton said, “When I got here, a little boy asked me to bless his brother who is gravely ill, and I would like to say to all within the sound of my voice that your brother will get well and fulfill his mission here on earth.”
For my parents, this was the balm they had prayed for, a relief from their days of pain and sadness. We began a new treatment, and with confidence in the power of Elder Ashton’s promise, I found my life changed completely.

I would like to share an example from my life where righteous persistence yielded eternal blessings and happiness.

I met my best friend in high school. He was agnostic and I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Despite these differences, we respected each other’s beliefs and personal journeys. On my mission during COVID, I began formally teaching him the gospel. The adversary knew the righteous path my friend was on and put great effort into misdirecting him. This led to delays, confusion, and hesitation towards learning. I pleaded with the Lord to help my best friend build a relationship with God like he wanted.

After returning home, I encouraged him to talk to the missionaries, and continue reading the Book of Mormon and attending church. 18 months after I came home, my best friend was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. I’m grateful that I didn’t give up on my friend, just as Christ never gave up on me.

But the blessings didn’t stop with his baptism. I enjoyed further blessings one week ago today when I participated in proxy temple baptisms with my best friend. He was able to perform the baptisms. The reward of seeing him enjoy the eternal blessings of the temple and the priesthood overcame any difficulty we faced in the previous years.

The Children and Youth Development Program was regarded by some as a very complex program.
By virtue of my calling as the area organizational adviser in charge of Relief Society, Young Women, and Primary, I had the opportunity to meet with several children, youths and their leaders and talk to them concerning their goals and their plans to achieve this great work.
I found that many of these children and youths found it difficult to set achievable goals and make plans to achieve them. I decided to study the pamphlet and guidebook to better understand it. I then decided to help the children and youth make it a Christ-centered and a learner-focused program to be able to better explain to the children, youth, and their leaders on how the program works and how to help them set more realistic and achievable goals.
While at it, a thought came to my heart: “Why don’t you practice what you preach?”
This thought so pierced my heart that I couldn’t shake it off. The thought of me mentoring and supporting youths and their leaders to develop and improve themselves and not leading by example was a no-no! These thoughts fueled me to look at my life and set goals according to the four areas of growth. I then went to Heavenly Father in prayer and the impression came more strongly, lead by example. Hence, I decided to work on the Children and Youth development program myself!
Physically: There was a need for me to improve my appearance I decided to learn how to apply a proper and modest make-up, make clothes for myself and family. I went online, downloaded video tutorials on the combination of simple makeup colors and how to measure, cut and sew dresses. I did set a short-term goal of three months to achieve this. Today I make clothes for myself, family, friends and even sisters around me wear my designs – Hachron Designs.
Intellectually: To improve myself intellectually, I decided to continue my education by going for my master’s degree and a certificate course in BYU-Pathway Worldwide. This was a 12-month goal. Today I have earned a master of science in mathematics/statistics, a certificate with BYU-Pathway. Presently, I am undergoing my doctorate degree program.
Socially: I decided to manage my time so I would have more time for my loved ones and boost my mental health. Sometimes it is difficult to navigate all these activities while magnifying my calling, attending lectures, meeting up to make dresses and attending training meetings. But when Heavenly Father sees the sincere desires of our hearts and determination to learn, grow and develop, He gives us renewed strength and sends angels our way to lighten our load—just like He gave me a very beautiful and supportive family and a very reliable and dependable secretary.
Spiritually: I decided to say my prayers frequently and fervently, study the scriptures more often and be consciously engaged in family history work. I have been able to complete my family tree to the ninth generation and have extended it to my in-laws. Now my family tree is as large as an obeche tree. I feel closer to Heavenly Father and the Saviour Jesus Christ as I involve my family in prayers and scripture study. Also, I needed to minister more to not only my assigned sisters but also to everyone around me.
I recognize the importance of continuous learning and skill development to unlock personal potential and navigate the complexities of this world.
Another skill that significantly contributed to my personal growth was time management. I try to plan my day, week, month, and year with my family and with my secretary to balance both my personal life and my calling. As I sharpened my ability to prioritize tasks and allocate time effectively, I found myself more organized and less stressed. This not only improved my academic performance but also allowed me to practice and sharpen my sewing skills and learn new styles and designs, visit more sisters, and feel the Saviour’s love whenever I minister to them. Balancing responsibilities and passions created a more fulfilling and well-rounded life for me.
The Children and Youth Program has been a transformative force in my personal journey. A doctorate degree in mathematics and statistics in the making, a make-up and fashion designing skill, time management skills, and ministering as the Saviour would, have collectively sculpted a better version of myself. The continuous pursuit of learning and skill refinement remains an ongoing process, ensuring that I am equipped to face the ever-evolving challenges of life with confidence and adaptability.
Indeed, the Lord does speak through His prophet. Heeding the words and counsels of the prophet and our leaders has brought immense blessings and joy to my life and that of my family at large. If I can develop so much in a year, imagine how much more our children and youth who begin this program very early will develop over the years!

I returned from the mission field with many hopes regarding employment. Even though I had worked before, I had no qualifications, so I did what I could to find work, but I was never satisfied and could not see any progress in my future.
I always wanted to study, but I could not pay for schooling, and my family was not in a position to help me.
When the Perpetual Education Fund was started, I saw an opportunity to change my future. I relied upon my Heavenly Father to help me, and thus I chose a course of study with His inspiration.
I chose to study nursing. My schooling required a lot of study and dedication. But I became impassioned with nursing. Three months after graduating, I was able to find employment at one of the best hospitals in Alagoas, Brazil.
I have many plans for the future. I plan to take advanced studies in nursing, and I have started to pay back my loan so others can partake of the opportunity of receiving an education and the blessings that come with it.