Gospel Story Finder

“You wouldn’t think it was funny if you had to dance with him,” said Lisa in a cross voice.
“I’m sorry, Lisa,” said Stephanie, smothering one last chuckle, “but I couldn’t help laughing because there was a time when I thought you had two left feet. Remember when we were learning to clog after third grade a couple of years ago?”
“Oh, yes,” said Lisa, thinking back. “Was I really that bad?” She thought some more, then admitted, “I guess I was before Tammy took over. She walked me through every step of that dance until I had it just right.”
“And now old Two-Left-Feet Lisa can dance,” said Stephanie with a friendly grin.

When we watch television, we probably don’t think about what a “fool” idea TV was once thought to be. We just take it for granted that it pulls pictures out of the air and then converts them into images that we can see on our TV sets. Little thought is given to how marvelous this means of communication is.
But the way it was invented is marvelous indeed.
Not widely known is the fact that television was actually invented by a fifteen-year-old boy, and if it were not for the urging of his high school teacher, the boy might never have gotten the patent for it.
It all began in the early 1920s in Rigby, Idaho, when a teacher, Justin Tolman, recognized a student’s genius. He saw a very rare potential in young Philo Farnsworth and did all he could as a teacher to encourage and develop the youth’s scientific talent.
Although Phil, as he was called by his family and friends, was busy with school and other activities—he played the violin in the school orchestra and taught himself how to play the piano—his inventive mind traveled far beyond the limits of the classroom and his community.
Most people who listened to Phil’s ideas weren’t able to understand the boy’s advanced concepts. And they didn’t put much faith in his theory that pictures could be sent through the air and instantly received and seen on screens hundreds, even thousands of miles away.
Phil’s teacher, Justin Tolman, was truly amazed at the youngster’s grasp of electronics and his ability to solve problems with innovative solutions. He watched for hours after school as Phil expertly drew diagrams on the blackboard, illustrating his television theory. Tolman was sure that, given the equipment to conduct experiments, the boy could produce this wonderful invention. But where could such elaborate equipment be found? Certainly not in the high school lab!
It wasn’t until several years later, when Phil was married and attending college, that he was able to get the financial backing he needed to perfect his television. Then, when he applied for a patent on his invention in 1927, he discovered that a man named Vladimir Zworykin, who worked for RCA, was applying for a similar patent. Which of these inventors should the patent be awarded to was a real problem for the United States Patent Office. From the documents his backers provided, it appeared that Vladimir had had the idea first.
But if Phil’s high school teacher, Justin Tolman, could be found, it was possible that the teacher could vouch for Phil’s claim of having had the concept for television first. Tolman was found, and the patent office asked him to appear before them. Assured that Tolman had no chance to talk to Phil beforehand, the patent authorities questioned Tolman at great length, and his memory proved to be excellent. He described in detail all the diagrams that Phil had drawn on the school blackboard as a student so many years before.
Impressed with Tolman’s clear description of Phil’s television, the patent office awarded the patent to the young inventor.
Philo Farnsworth, who died in 1971, had lived a very productive life and had been awarded a great number of patents in the field of electronics.

I can remember years ago coming out of my first accounting class and feeling like I had just come out of a class where a foreign language had been spoken. I didn’t have a clue what a debit or a credit was and what it meant in terms of cash flow and a balance sheet. I didn’t know where to turn. One of my best friends at the university (not a member of the Church) was studying to be a certified public accountant, and he loved accounting. I can vividly remember sitting down on a hillside on a grassy knoll, opening our books, and having him tutor me in the language of accounting and its objectives and purposes, which I would take with me into the business world for the rest of my life. Harvey wasn’t concerned or worried that I would get a higher grade or be able to pass rather than fail. He was helping a friend in need. You never forget such gestures of kindness and caring in life. It is more than an educational process to get a credit. This is how dear friends are bonded and a realization of why we are here in mortality.

Some years ago one of my high school friends visited me. We talked over old times. Unfortunately he had chosen a life of moral transgression. At one point he broke out in tears and exclaimed, almost like a broken record, "I want to be clean, I want to be clean, I want to be clean." To his credit he eventually changed his life to conform to the moral standards he knew to be correct. Like my friend, I believe there is an innate desire in every man and woman to be morally clean--oh, there may be some moments of rationalization, or expressions that yield to the peer pressure and fashions of the day, but in the quiet, reflective moments of life, when one ponders who he really is and what he really wants to become, there emerges a God-given desire to be clean, to be holy, to be right with that very being who created him and planted within him the creative powers.

While in Oklahoma, I had the opportunity to meet with a few of the families devastated by the mighty twisters. As I visited with the Sorrels family, I was particularly touched by the experience of their daughter, Tori, then a fifth grader at Plaza Towers Elementary School. She and her mother are here with us today.
Tori and a handful of her friends huddled in a restroom for shelter as the tornado roared through the school. Listen as I read, in Tori’s own words, the account of that day:
“I heard something hit the roof. I thought it was just hailing. The sound got louder and louder. I said a prayer that Heavenly Father would protect us all and keep us safe. All of a sudden we heard a loud vacuum sound, and the roof disappeared right above our heads. There was lots of wind and debris flying around and hitting every part of my body. It was darker outside and it looked like the sky was black, but it wasn’t—it was the inside of the tornado. I just closed my eyes, hoping and praying that it would be over soon.
“All of a sudden it got quiet.
“When I opened my eyes, I saw a stop sign right in front of my eyes! It was almost touching my nose.”
Tori, her mother, three of her siblings, and numerous friends who were also in the school with her miraculously survived that tornado; seven of their schoolmates did not.
That weekend the priesthood brethren gave many blessings to members who had suffered in the storm. I was humbled to give Tori a blessing. As I laid my hands on her head, a favorite scripture came to mind: “I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up.”
I counseled Tori to remember the day when a servant of the Lord laid his hands on her head and pronounced that she had been protected by angels in the storm.

The first story is a tender mercy experience of my wife and her family. When she was nine years old, her mother and father were students here at BYU–Hawaii living in TVA. The following account of the experience was given by my wife’s sister, Mele Ha’unga Hansen and written by President Eric B. Shumway, former BYU–Hawaii President and family friend:

“One day in a pickup rugby game on the front field, her father, Semisi Ha’unga, was severely injured. Paralyzed and suffering from a broken neck, Semisi languished for several weeks and died, leaving his wife, ‘Ahoika, and four small daughters. The sadness was almost too much to bear, but ‘Ahoika remained faithful and optimistic. Eventually she had to return home to Tonga with her children. She worked for the Latter-day Saint Church Schools, which paid her a modest salary. A widow and single parent with several children, ‘Ahoika eked out a living. Mele gave the following account:
I remember one day in Tonga, Mom called a family council and told us children that we had just enough money from that particular paycheck to pay tithing and the monthly bills, but there was no money for food. I remember complaining to Mom: “Why can’t we use the tithing money for food. Heavenly Father has plenty of money. Your tithing is so small compared to what He has. Does God want us to starve to pay tithing money He doesn’t need?” But Mom was adamant. “It’s His money,” she said. “He may not need it but we need to pay it. It is our need, not God’s, to pay tithing.”
Mele spoke of the prayers of her widowed mother and the anxiety of the children, when suddenly their father’s brother appeared at their home; he was not a member of the Church. He was laden with foodstuffs from his garden plot—yams, sweet potatoes, green bananas—and a roasted pig. There was also corned beef and bread. The sight of all this food made a deep impression, but it was their uncle’s story that moved them most. He said, “I was working in my plantation today. At noon I lay down to rest under a tree. I slept and saw your father walking toward me. When I saw him, I knew instantly why he had come to me. You were hungry and without food.”
Thus the widow’s faith was vindicated in front of her children. ‘Ahoika, still a widow, represents the millions of devoted Latter-day Saints all over the world whose faith and trust in paying their tithing make sacrifice joyful. Her generous, believing nature is part of her cultural as well as her spiritual heritage.”

This wonderful experience made a deep impression on my wife, one that she will never forget. The story of the widow’s mite comes to mind when I think of her mother’s faith and testimony. This experience will live on in our family history. The principle of the tithe has never been and issue in our family. Please don’t forget that you must keep the commandments for your strength to be faithened and your faith to be strengthened. (David F. Evans, BYUH Devotional, Oct. 3, 2018)

I have seen how the Holy Ghost can touch a softened heart to protect a humble disciple of Jesus Christ with confirming revelation.

The prophet sent me to confer the sacred sealing power on a man in a small city far away. Only the prophet of God has the keys to decide who is to receive the sacred power which was given by the Lord to Peter, the senior Apostle. I had received that same sealing power, but only by direction of the President of the Church could I confer it on another.

So, in a room in a chapel far from Salt Lake, I laid my hands on the head of a man chosen by the prophet to receive the sealing power. His hands showed the signs of a lifetime of tilling the soil for a meager living. His tiny wife sat near him. She also showed signs of years of hard labor alongside her husband.

I spoke the words given by the prophet: “Under delegation of authority and responsibility from,” and then the name of the prophet, “who holds all the keys of the priesthood on earth at this time, I confer the sealing power on,” and I gave the name of the man and then the name of the temple where he would serve as a sealer.

Tears flowed down his cheeks. I saw that his wife was also weeping. I waited for them to compose themselves. She stood up and stepped toward me. She looked up and then said timidly that she was happy but also sad. She said that she had so loved going to the temple with her husband but that now she felt that she should not go with him because God had chosen him for so glorious and sacred a trust. Then she said that her feeling of being inadequate to be his temple companion came because she could neither read nor write.

I assured her that her husband would be honored by her company in the temple because of her great spiritual power. As well as I could with my small grasp of her language, I told her that God had revealed things to her beyond all earthly education.

She knew by the gift of the Spirit that God had given, through His prophet, a supernal trust to the husband she loved. She knew for herself that the keys to give that sealing power were held by a man she had never seen and yet knew for herself was the living prophet of God. She knew, without having to be told by any living witness, that the prophet had prayed over the name of her husband. She knew for herself that God had made the call.

She also knew that the ordinances her husband would perform would bind people for eternity in the celestial kingdom. She had confirmed to her mind and heart that the promise the Lord made to Peter still continued in the Church: “Whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven.” She knew that for herself, by revelation, from God.

By 1889, just 10 years after the restored gospel arrived in central Mexico, Church leaders had felt prompted to shift the Church’s limited resources to establishing colonies in northern Mexico. The members near Mexico City, about 1,000 miles (1,600 km) from the colonies, felt like sheep without a shepherd as missionaries left for the north. Though still surrounded by her family, Desideria knew that they would have to practice the gospel in isolation. This meant she would never have the benefit of joining the Relief Society or of receiving temple blessings while alive.
But she recognized that the Lord knew her. Through His servants, the Lord had manifested His desire to minister one by one to His flock. Because of her dream, the priesthood blessing, and the Book of Mormon, Desideria could testify of her absolute assurance that God cared for her spiritual and temporal needs. Though this knowledge did not prevent trials and challenges from occurring in her life, it did give her the confidence that the Lord would always ease her burdens.
In 1903, missionaries returned to southern Mexico for the first time since 1886. They met with José, who summed up Desideria’s endurance to the end and legacy of faith by saying that both his wife and his mother “died in full faith of Mormonism” and that he had “hope of dying in Mormonism.”7

He said, “Smile ako o. Kita mo? Kita mo smile ko?” (I’m smiling, can you see? Can you see my smile?) Then, he flashed a big, toothy smile. Between shallow breaths, he said “Miss you, miss you,” and pouted his lips, asking me to kiss him. And I did. Later, I realized his “miss you” really meant, “I will miss you.” Those were the last words he spoke. He knew we were going to be physically separated for a few decades, and just wanted me to know that he will miss me, but we will definitely see each other again.
The moment I saw his lifeless body in the hospital bed, I felt the Spirit whisper to me, “He was really supposed to live just up to this day.” The pain was there, the tears flowed freely, but miraculously I felt very peaceful and calm, and knew that everything in this world happens the way God intends or allows it.
I hold on to all the truths I have learned since childhood. The reality of the Plan of Salvation. That birth is not the beginning and death is not the end. The reality that a body dies but the spirit lives. That there is always hope because Jesus Christ has made resurrection available to all. I attribute my clear understanding and calm composure at that moment to the prayers of hundreds of people who love me and my little family, and I am grateful to all of you.
President Joseph Fielding Smith taught, “It is reasonable to believe that in the beginning, before the earth was prepared, the Lord would have all things organized from the beginning to the end of time”1. So there. God is all-knowing. Before the physical creation of the earth, there is a spiritual blueprint for everything. Eons and eons of time ago, He has designed our family life to be this way. We’ll have Titus to lead, teach and ready us for the first 10 years, but at 34 years old his probationary period will be over. We are still a family because we have made eternal covenants in the temple, and we both still have the obligation to lead our children back to Heavenly Father. However, I will just have to do the physical rearing and providing from here on out. And because our lives are designed this way, I am confident that God has already prepared all the necessary help we will ever need.
This the greatest miracle I have ever experienced—the ability to readily align my will to Heavenly Father’s. I call this a miracle because I was not really like this before. I will strive to do the same in all my future trials. I guess the greatest affliction can teach us the greatest lessons. And now I have the testimony that because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, because He has overcome sin and death, we can all have peace and even joy in any circumstance.

As a boy, I made a startling discovery in Sunday School one Mother’s Day which has remained with me all through the years. Melvin, a sightless brother in the ward, a talented vocalist, would stand and face the congregation as though he were seeing one and all. He would then sing “That Wonderful Mother of Mine.” The bright, glowing embers of memory penetrated human hearts. Men reached for their handkerchiefs; women’s eyes brimmed with tears.

We deacons would go among the congregation carrying a small geranium in a clay pot for presentation to each mother. Some of the mothers were young; some were middle-aged; some were barely hanging on to life in their old age. I became aware that the eyes of each mother were kind eyes. The words of each mother were, “Thank you.” I felt the spirit of the statement, “When someone gives another person a flower, the fragrance of the flower lingers on the hands of the giver.” I have not forgotten the lesson learned, nor shall I ever forget it.

“When our oldest son was about three, he would kneel with his mother and me in our evening prayer. I was serving as the bishop of the ward at the time, and a lovely lady in the ward, Margaret Lister, lay perilously ill with cancer. Each night we would pray for Sister Lister. One evening our tiny son offered the prayer and confused the words of the prayer with a story from a nursery book. He began: ‘Heavenly Father, please bless Sister Lister, Henny Penny, Chicken Licken, Turkey Lurkey, and all the little folks.’ We held back the smiles that evening. Later we were humbled as Margaret Lister sustained a complete recovery. We do not belittle the prayer of a child. After all, our children have more recently been with our Heavenly Father than have we” (“Building Your Eternal Home,” Liahona, October 1999, 4).

After I learned to read as a child, I started reading the Bible. By the time I was 10, I wanted, like Joseph Smith, to find the right church to join. I started to investigate churches around my home. Then one day a friend of my mother invited us to a family home evening.
“This is it,” I thought. “This is the church!”
Two weeks later, we were baptized members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

“I was happy when my parents, my brother, and I were sealed in the temple,” says Juanita León, 12. She explains that her father used to own a restaurant and would drink a lot. “Then one day, a boy came by and talked to my father about the Church. We received all the discussions and were baptized two weeks later. A month after our baptism, my father was called as the president of the San Benito Branch. A year later, we were sealed in the temple. My father doesn’t drink anymore!”

How well I can recall a sweet, young patient whom I first saw years ago for a premarital examination. She had been born with one arm missing. Noticing that she had identified herself as a stenographer on her medical history record, I asked, “You’re a secretary?”
“Are you surprised?” she chuckled in return. “I can type with one hand as fast as many girls can with two. As early as I could comprehend, my mother told me that I have been given a deformity so that it might strengthen me, and that I was to learn to do things as well with one hand as everyone else did with two. I have never found my limitation to be a real handicap.” I have watched this young patient. She has since had a heart operation and a child of her own for whom she cares with tender love. A beautiful response to affliction, and God is pleased, I am sure.

As the years passed, Eduardo married and started a family of his own. By the time most of his five children began to leave home, he still could not read and had little prospect of ever learning how. That changed one day when he chased off several local boys who were heckling two Latter-day Saint missionaries in front of his home. He invited the missionaries in, and before long he and his wife, María, were taking the discussions.
“I had a hard time understanding anything they said because they spoke little Spanish,” Eduardo recalls, “but they showed me a pamphlet that had pictures of the Savior and of the Prophet Joseph Smith in the Sacred Grove. I thought the pictures they showed us and the things they taught us were beautiful.”
Soon those missionaries were replaced by others, including a native Spanish speaker. Eduardo and María, who had lost an infant daughter to death a few years earlier, were touched by the Church film Families Are Forever. They, along with their youngest son, Osvaldo, were soon baptized.
With Eduardo’s baptism in 1987 came a desire to strengthen his testimony by reading the Book of Mormon. “How do I learn to read?” he asked his wife. María told him to look at the letters, put them together in his mind, try to sound out words, and then attempt to read aloud. With practice, she assured him, he would eventually learn to read.
Eduardo, then 45, knew the sounds of many letters, but he had not attempted to read since leaving school nearly four decades before.
With a prayer in his heart, Eduardo sat down one hot summer day in a shady spot in the backyard of his home. “There,” he says, “I determined to make the attempt.”
María says she never would have imagined what happened next. As she worked in the kitchen, she listened off and on as Eduardo attempted to sound out letters and words. “Suddenly I heard him speaking rapidly,” she says. “I listened and realized that he was reading—fluently. Less than half an hour had passed, and he was reading!”
Eduardo was so immersed in his attempt that he hadn’t realized he was reading. But as he read, he recalls, “I felt a fire burning within me.” Frightened and surprised, Eduardo called to his wife, “Mami, what is happening to me?”
“It’s the Spirit of the Lord,” María replied. “You are reading fluently!”
As she recalls the experience, María says, “It was something we can never deny.”
Eduardo adds, “The day I learned to read is also the day I gained my testimony of the Book of Mormon and its power.”
From then on, Eduardo began arising at 4:00 a.m. to read the Book of Mormon before going to work. He then read the Doctrine and Covenants, followed by the Bible. A library now graces the Contreras home, where few books were found before 1987.
As Eduardo’s and María’s gospel knowledge grew, so did their testimonies. When their son Osvaldo died following a traffic accident in 2001, their testimonies—coupled with powerful spiritual experiences during prayer and in the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple, where they and Osvaldo had been sealed—helped them deal with their loss.
“Perhaps some parents would have gone crazy,” Eduardo says, “but we felt a calmness that said, ‘Your son is well.’ Of course we wept. He was a good son, and we miss him. But we have been sealed in the temple, and we know where he is.”
Thanks to tutoring from a member of his ward, Eduardo also learned to write. “Before,” he says, “I couldn’t even sign my name.”
With the light of literacy, Eduardo came to understand the truthfulness of his grandfather’s words.
“We are here on earth so we can progress a little more each day,” he says. By learning to read and write, he adds, he is showing his children and grandchildren that it is never too late to learn, improve, and become what God wants us to become. “Because I can read, I learn something new every day,” he says.
Today Brother Contreras can read anything he wants to read, including the newspapers he once sold as an illiterate child. The scriptures remain his favorite books, especially the Book of Mormon. He has read it cover to cover eight times.
“For me the Book of Mormon was the door,” he says, still grateful for how literacy and the gospel have changed his life. “The Book of Mormon was everything to me. It is everything to me. I feel the Spirit every time I open it to read.”

Shortly after I was baptized, I married a man who was not a member of the Church. He controlled all the money I earned and never let me pay tithing.
I suffered for 10 long, unhappy years, during which I could not progress. Eventually I was divorced and began to support my daughter and myself. However, what I earned was insufficient to pay for our rent, bills, food, clothes, and the other things we needed. If I had enough for one thing, I could not afford another.
One day I started to pay tithing anyway. As always I continued to plan my budget. And I began to realize that I had enough money for everything, even with the same salary. At first I couldn’t believe what was happening. Then I read the passage in the Bible where the Lord says, “Prove me now herewith … if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it” (Mal. 3:10). I knelt down and cried unto the Lord in gratitude. He has never forsaken me.

As you look in the first file you’ll see Adam’s plan. It’s simple: “For every five dollars I get, I give two to my mission fund,” he says. He also always makes sure to pay his tithing before he sets aside the 40 percent for his mission.
Adam started saving while trying to fulfill his goals in the Duty to God program. One of the goals is to start saving money for a mission. “I just opened a bag, stuck some money in, and started,” he says. He plans on opening a bank account right away.
Starting at 12 might seem early, but Adam’s really excited that he has seven years to save for his mission. He’s not old enough to have a part-time job, but he does jobs for people in his neighborhood, such as emptying recycling bins, shoveling walks, and putting newspapers on the front doorsteps of a few elderly widows. He’s up early in the morning to get his jobs done, and he counts his jobs as small blessings that will one day help his mission fund add up.
“A mission is one of the most important parts of your life. Save up now, and go for two years to help people come to the gospel, and you will be blessed,” Adam says.
Along with his financial preparation, Adam has also set a goal to finish reading the Book of Mormon by the time he’s 13. He reads every day. He’s also trying to magnify his calling as a deacon, so he will be prepared to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood when the time comes. His dad went on a mission, as did his grandpa and great-grandpa Sessions. He’s looking forward to following in their footsteps.

My younger brother is silly, has a great imagination, and cares about others. He is one of my biggest fans when I perform on stage. He also has some special needs. He is very small for his age and struggles with reading, writing, talking, and sometimes understanding others. He is also deaf.
One day at play practice, I walked up the stairs to get to the stage. I heard someone say something mean about kids with disabilities. Everyone started to joke and laugh about it.
I know they didn’t mean to hurt my feelings, but I got really sad and ran to find a place to hide. As I was sitting in my hiding spot, a grown-up sat by me and started to talk to me about the play. I started to feel better.
When it was time to go home, I told my mom what happened. She told me that it’s OK to walk away from something that makes me feel bad and that it’s OK to talk to a grown-up about my feelings.
Sometimes people don’t understand how it feels to have special needs or to know someone who has special needs. I want to be an example of love and kindness.

I felt spiritually numb. I wondered if the Lord still cared about me or if he really loved me. Heavenly Father seemed far away.
I was letting myself feel smothered by my children’s endless requests, by Church responsibilities, and by the absence of my hard-working husband, who was often gone when I seemed to need him most. With all of the demands on my time, I felt unfulfilled and overwhelmed.
But when my visiting teachers arrived for their monthly visit, I put on my usual happy face. I hid the torment I felt inside. We exchanged news of the happenings in our lives. I can’t remember the message they shared that month. I felt invisible as their words glided past me.
As we stood at the door saying our goodbyes, I thought, What a waste of time. They don’t realize how I truly feel inside. And even if they did, would they care?
My body wanted to retreat into sleep, but I mechanically worked through my chores, expecting no other interruptions to break up my daily routine. I was surprised a few hours later when the doorbell rang.
It was Julie, the younger of my two visiting teachers. She stepped inside, took both of my hands in hers, and asked me about a place to pray.
Not quite clear on what she was asking me, I replied, “Julie, why are you here again?”
She said lovingly, “When I returned home today, I couldn’t get you out of my mind. Earlier, during our visit, I saw the anguish in your eyes. After I returned home, whatever I tried to do was interrupted by thoughts of you. Finally I stopped my work and knelt in prayer. I asked, ‘Lord, help me help Ruth.’ It occurred to me that the answer I sought had to do with what I was doing right then: kneeling in prayer before my Heavenly Father.”
I stood in silence through Julie’s explanation. With tears filling her eyes, she affirmed, “Ruth, I felt compelled by the Spirit to come back here today. I know you are having trouble praying, and I know you don’t feel loved by your Heavenly Father.” Her words seized my attention. I could not deny the truthfulness of her discovery.
“Is there a place where we could pray?” she repeated.
“Yes, I guess so,” I stammered.
As we moved to another room, she said, “Ruth, I would like to offer a prayer, and then I want you to pray.” I interrupted: “Oh, no—not me!” I told her that I didn’t think Heavenly Father would listen to me, that I didn’t feel I could ask him anything anymore. But Julie sank to her knees. We knelt side by side.
She said, “Just ask him this one simple question: ‘Am I loved?’” Then Julie began to pray. Her special prayer in my behalf softened my heart. The sweet spirit filling my heart subdued my anger and frustrations.
I realized that Heavenly Father was near, and he was waiting.
At the conclusion of Julie’s prayer, she said, “Now it’s your turn, Ruth.”
Silence blanketed the room, and the next few moments seemed like hours before the words would come. “Heavenly Father,” I finally began, “dost thou love me?” Tears flowed as I asked the question. A few moments later, my answer came, forming itself in the silence of my aching heart—“You need not ask what you already know.” It was distinct and clear.
Those words, “you already know,” came to me with warmth and love. They filled empty places within me, and I began to draw upon all the truths I had been taught throughout my life. In that moment I remembered anew the many ways Heavenly Father loves me. His love had been there all along.
Since that moment when I felt God’s love again, my gratitude has increased for his Son, Jesus the Christ, and for others who have extended his love. I am especially grateful for Julie and have tried since then to be one who, like her, can extend our Savior’s love to others in their moments of need.

“She’s just a better version of me.”
Months after coming home from my mission in California, this thought was still tormenting my mind. There hadn’t been a day that went by without me thinking about my mission and who I was while I was serving. “Mission-me,” as I called this past version of myself, was better than my current self. Mission-me prioritized the gospel over everything else. She was kind, selfless, and acted on what she knew was right.
The current me?
She was different.
My scripture study habits had all but gone out the window. My prayers were sporadic at best, and though I was still attending the temple and church weekly, I knew I could be doing better at inviting the Spirit into my life.
But no matter how many times I tried, it seemed I could only keep up my spiritual habits for a couple of days—a week at most—before failing. I knew how much I loved the gospel and my Savior, but for some reason, I just couldn’t grow into the person I wanted to be.
I finally felt relief after nine months of being home. I was attending an institute class, trying desperately to learn from The Divine Gift of Forgiveness, a book by Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
Just then, a paragraph jumped out at me.
It reads, “If we find ourselves temporarily facing setbacks, we don’t become discouraged. We focus on our love of the Savior and His love for us, and we move forward. Week by week, year by year, our repentance and resolve draw us closer to Him.”
I froze—his words felt like they were meant specifically for me.
I knew that through His Atonement, Jesus Christ could help me. I had faith that He was cheering me on, but I’d been missing one key detail: timing.
See, God wasn’t expecting me to be perfect right then. That’s the whole reason Christ atoned for us. God knows that we will never be perfect in this life, and He loves us so much that He sent His Only Begotten Son to save us.
Instead of trying to become perfect right then, the Savior’s enabling power could help me continue to grow over the course of a lifetime. Week by week, year by year. The best version of myself was going to take my whole life to develop—that’s how it’s supposed to be, as we learn to walk with Him.