Gospel Story Finder

But Church growth highlighted a challenge: a lack of experience by the members. This challenge, however, had a positive outcome: it required increased faith and spiritual guidance among the members. For instance, in November 1992 a stake was organized in Uruguaiana, on the western side of Brazil, far from established stakes of the Church. When a faithful and longtime member of the Church, José Candido Ferreira dos Santos, was called as the patriarch of the newly created stake, he was concerned. He explained to the General Authority: “I can’t be a patriarch. I have no idea what one is. I don’t recall ever meeting a patriarch and do not have my patriarchal blessing.” The General Authority suggested a solution. In the neighboring city of Alegrete, a new patriarch, Ruí Antônio Dávila, had also recently been called and was in a similar situation. The two patriarchs needed to give each other patriarchal blessings.
As Brother Santos was receiving his blessing from Brother Dávila, he was surprised as he heard blessings pronounced relating to his past and his personal desires that the patriarch had no way of knowing. When Brother Santos in turn pronounced a blessing on the head of Brother Dávila, again tears flowed as the same experience occurred. The two men embraced afterwards with a deep understanding of what had just happened.4 Just as the Spirit inspired them to give their first patriarchal blessings, the Spirit inspired them as they gave hundreds more. The Lord provided many such spiritual blessings in a country where Church experience was limited.

When Elder Dale G. Renlund was 12, his family lived in Sweden. One Sunday, Dale’s friend Steffan brought a large firecracker and some matches into the Church building. Dale was excited. Dale took the firecracker and lit the fuse. He was going to snuff out the fuse, but he burned his fingers and dropped the firecracker! Dale and Steffan watched in horror as the fuse kept burning.
The firecracker exploded! An awful smell filled the chapel. Dale and Steffan quickly picked up the pieces of firecracker and opened the windows to let the smell out. They hoped no one would notice.
As people came to sacrament meeting, they did notice. The smell was so strong that people couldn’t focus on the meeting. Dale felt very embarrassed and ashamed. He knew that what he had done had disappointed Heavenly Father.
After church, President Lindberg, the branch president, asked Dale to come to his office because he could tell that something was wrong. Dale told President Lindberg how sorry he was about the firecracker.
President Lindberg was kind. He opened the scriptures and asked Dale to read some underlined verses. Dale read, “Behold, he who has repented of his sins, the same is forgiven, and I, the Lord, remember them no more. By this ye may know if a man repenteth of his sins—behold, he will confess them and forsake them” (D&C 58:42–43).
When Dale finished reading, he saw President Lindberg smile. He felt he had been forgiven. As Dale left the office, he felt happy.
Elder Renlund learned that he could be forgiven when he did something wrong. He could feel happy when he repented and kept Heavenly Father’s commandments.

That little voice in my head was getting hard to ignore. Here I was at age 28, still single and not really sure of what I wanted to do professionally even though I had a good career as a labor and delivery nurse. I felt like every aspect of my life wasn’t working out. I was doubting life choices and didn’t know which path to take. I just felt lost.
One day when I was feeling particularly down, a friend whom I hadn’t talked to in a while called me. When he asked how I was doing, I explained all those feelings I had been struggling with. He listened and then said, “OK, but how are you doing spiritually?”
“Oh yeah, that’s perfect,” I responded automatically. “I’ve never felt closer to God in my life.”
He replied, “Then you don’t have to worry about anything else.”
Since the conversation, I realized two things. First, I realized that I am so grateful to have a strong testimony of the restored gospel and to be able to live the commandments and feel connected with heaven.
Being spiritually self-reliant is so important to me, and I’m still learning how to open the heavens in my life. Praying and studying the scriptures every morning are two simple things that I feel make the biggest difference in my ability to receive personal revelation. I also feel more connected with heaven when I make an effort to be kind, to live a healthy life so the Spirit can always be my companion, to obey the commandments, and to repent sincerely.
Second, I realized that my response to my friend’s question wasn’t totally right—I thought I was doing “perfect” spiritually, but I needed to have more faith, stop worrying so much, and trust God to take care of the things I can’t control.
Even when some aspects of my life aren’t going as well as I would like, I know that the important thing is to act in faith and show God that I use my agency to make good choices. I’ve learned that when life doesn’t work out the way I expect it to, it’s so that I can learn and grow in ways I wouldn’t be able to otherwise.
I never imagined that in my 29th year I would find myself having doubts about my career and the next stage of my life. Still, even with all these unknowns, I have total confidence that God has a perfect plan for me. He knows exactly what’s happening and what I need, and He will always take care of me (see Matthew 6:28–34). Just as Elder L. Todd Budge of the Seventy taught, “As difficult as it is to understand, especially at the times in our lives when the headwinds are strong and the seas are turbulent, we can take comfort in knowing that God in His infinite goodness is always blowing us toward home” (“Consistent and Resilient Trust,” Liahona, Nov. 2019, 48).
Some days life feels just so difficult, but when I really think about it, I know that I don’t have to worry. Little by little, I have come to realize that I need to trust God a little more and worry less about things I can’t control. The one thing I can control about the future is trusting God and working on growing closer to Him every day.
When I feel lost, there is always enough light for me to take a step into the unknown and move forward. And as long as I exercise faith and keep my covenants, as long as I remember my true identity as a daughter of Heavenly Parents and try over and over again, things will happen when and how they’re supposed to, and that’s really all that matters.

On another occasion, while pitching a game at Pioneer Park, I was absolutely stunned to see that the other team had placed a one-armed batter at the plate. Now how does a pitcher deliver the pitch to such an opponent? I tossed a gentle lob over the plate. To my amazement, the batter knocked a single, right over the second baseman’s head. My temper flared. The next batter was a returned missionary from Mexico, Homer Proctor, six foot two and about 210 pounds. I pitched him fast, high, and inside. On the first pitch, he lifted the ball right out of the park for a home run. I shall ever remember the smile of that one-armed runner, Bernell Hales, as he passed second and third and gleefully streaked for home. I felt like crying, but I broke out laughing, as did each player on both sides. We had a wonderful time.

At the time, I had been active in the Church only a short while. I had served a mission but later left the Church after getting caught up in the entertainment industry and using drugs and alcohol. I thought my family would be impressed with my career and wealth, but my mother didn’t care about any of that. Instead, she always put my name on the temple prayer roll, which angered me.
The woman I married had also left the Church. By the time our eight-year-old daughter, Tori, began asking questions about Jesus Christ, we had bottomed out spiritually. Despite my missionary service, I couldn’t remember anything about the Savior.
“There are people who are qualified to teach you about Jesus,” I told Tori. “Why don’t you talk to them?”
A few days later, two sister missionaries knocked on our door. Tori invited them in and began taking the discussions. Eavesdropping from another room, I heard the sisters teaching doctrines that I recognized to be true.
“Would you like to be baptized?” one of the sisters asked Tori after the third discussion.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Will your dad baptize you?”
I had not been to church for 20 years, but I knew my life was about to change. I sat in on the last few discussions, we started attending church, and my wife and I met with the bishop. As I repented, I decided that I must do everything possible to compensate for the years I had lost. I changed careers, magnified my Church callings, was sealed to my wife and daughter, and became a temple worker. That’s how I knew that a curious group of young people could become temple worthy.
My journey back to the temple was remarkable, and learning of Lars’s journey was a wonderful blessing that reminded me how we can all touch lives for good.

“Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, turn around.
“Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, touch the ground.
“Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, show your shoe,
“Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, better skiddoo.”
A warm breeze blew gently as the red and blue jump rope made a friendly slapping noise each time it hit the sidewalk.
“Your turn, Jill,” Kerry said, hopping away from the swishing rope.
“No, thanks,” Jill said. “I don’t feel like jumping today. You take my turn, Tina. I’ll keep turning.”
“OK,” Tina agreed, handing her end of the rope to Kerry.
“What do you want to do?” Shelly asked.
“Oh, Down in the Meadow, I guess,” Tina said. “But not too fast. I’m wearing my good shoes, and I don’t want to scuff them.”
“Down in the meadow where the green grass grows,
There sat Tina as pretty as a rose …
One, two …”
“I’m getting tired,” Tina puffed as she counted, “Sixty-four, sixty-five …”
“Come on, Tina!” Jill cheered. “You can do eighty easily.” She turned her end of the rope carefully, making sure it hit the sidewalk each time.
“Seventy-nine, eighty!”
Tina smiled and jumped out. “Whew! I did it. Want to jump now, Jill?”
“No, thanks. Go ahead, Shelly. I’ll still turn.”
“Jumping rope again?” Tommy asked with a sneer. “Don’t girls know how to do anything else?” He laughed mockingly and turned to the boys with him. “Come on. Let’s play softball.”
“You just play softball because you can’t jump rope,” Kerry retorted. Tina jumped eighty times doing Down in the Meadow. Can any of you do better than that?”
“I bet I can,” Jim said.
“OK, let’s see you do it.” Shelly and Jill got the rope going again.
“Down in the mead—” The girls giggled as Jim missed.
“Come on,” Tommy said. “This is sissy stuff. Everybody knows that all girls can jump rope. They’re born knowing how.”
Jill frowned as Tommy and the other boys ran off and chose sides for a softball game.
That evening at dinner, Jill asked her mother, “Can you jump rope?”
“Well, I haven’t for some time, but I used to when I was in grade school. Why?”
“Did you always know how? I mean, did you have to learn?”
“I don’t really remember,” Mother replied.
“Tommy says that all girls are born knowing how to jump rope. Is that true?”
“I don’t think so, Jill.”
“What’s the matter—can’t you jump?” Jill’s brother, Michael, asked.
“No,” Jill said, staring at the peas on her plate.
“You can’t?” Michael laughed. “I’ll bet you’re the only girl in third grade who can’t. Boy, that’s funny. Wait till I tell Bobby and Pete!”
“Oh, please don’t tell them!” Jill pleaded. “Not even my best friends know. I give up my turn each time, and pretty soon the bell rings and nobody knows.”
Seeing the tears in his little sister’s eyes, Michael said, “I won’t tell, I promise.”
“Thanks, Mike.”
When Jill came home from school the next afternoon, she found a box wrapped in red polka-dot paper on the kitchen table. The tag read, “To Jill.”
Jill removed the puffy white bow and red paper. She lifted one corner of the lid cautiously, in case it was a joke from Michael. In the box was a brand-new jump rope. On the end of each wooden hand grip were Jill’s initials, J.M. “This is fantastic!” Jill exclaimed. She read the neatly printed card in the box: ‘To Jill from Michael. Sorry I hurt your feelings.’
“Sometimes big brothers are all right,” Jill told Mother. “I’ll be outside learning how to jump rope.”
Jill adjusted the rope to the right length. She swung it behind her back, took a deep breath, and turned the rope over her head. One foot jumped neatly as the rope came around, but the other foot got caught.
“Oops!” Jill started over.
The next time neither foot cleared the rope.
“Rats!” She tried again and again, but each time the rope failed to make a full circle.
When Mother called her for dinner, Jill said disconsolately, “I can’t do it. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t do it. I’ll never learn.”
“But you’ve only tried once,” Michael argued. “You have to practice.”
“Tina and Kerry can jump,” Jill said. “So can Shelly. They don’t practice. Kerry can even do lots of hot peppers.”
“Some things come easier to some people than to others,” Mother said consolingly. “You can draw better than they can, for instance. Just keep practicing and be patient.”
The next day after school, Jill managed to jump the rope a few times. After dinner she practiced until it was dark.
“It’s no use,” Jill said angrily. “I’m going to be awful at field day next week. Tina and I are partners for the jump-rope contest, and I’ll embarrass us both!”
“You have to keep practicing,” Michael advised her wisely.
“You’re doing better. A few days ago you couldn’t jump at all.”
The next day when Jill started to practice, she jumped several times before she missed. By the end of the evening she had jumped twenty-eight jumps in a row! But by the end of the week, the best she had done was fifty-two jumps.
On the morning of field day Jill thought about pretending to be sick so that she wouldn’t have to go to school. This is the day that everyone will find out that I can’t jump rope very well, she thought. Tommy is really going to tease me. Jill purposely went to the back of the line while the judge explained the rules. Each contestant would jump alone as many times as he could. His score would be counted and added to his partner’s score.
Tina’s going to hate me, Jill thought. By the time their turn came, the score to beat was 191, jumped by Kerry and Shelly.
“You go first,” Jill said to Tina.
Tina swung her rope behind her back expertly.
“One, two …” the judge counted.
She doesn’t even watch the rope, Jill noticed.
“Seventy-four, seventy-five—” The rope caught on Tina’s heel.
“Seventy-four,” the judge said, marking the score on his clipboard. “Next.”
“Sorry,” Tina said. “Come on, Jill. I’m counting on you.”
“But I’ll have to jump almost a hundred twenty times for us to beat Kerry and Shelly’s record!”
“You can do it!” Tina said.
“I’ve never even jumped half that many times!” Jill faltered.
“Well, do your best,” Tina said.
Jill slowly swung her rope back.
“One, two …” the judge counted. And before Jill could really think about it, the judge was counting, “fifty-four, fifty-five …”
Jill kept turning the rope and jumping.
“Ninety-four, ninety-five …” Jill’s heart was thumping hard. Maybe I can do it, she thought. I’m still jumping.
Half the school were crowded around Jill now, and her classmates were counting excitedly with the judge.
“Go, Jill” Tina screamed.
“A hundred nine, a hundred ten …”
The crowd surrounding Jill screamed and clapped when, gasping heavily, she reached 118.
“First prize goes to Tina and Jill,” said the judge, pinning a blue ribbon to Jill’s sweater and another one to Tina’s blouse.
“You were fantastic! You’re a jump-rope genius,” Tina said, hugging her friend.
“Mike told me the secret,” Jill said, glancing proudly at her beaming brother. “You just have to keep on practicing.”

“It all began when I said hi to Shawn in the hall one day. If you say hi once to him he’s your friend. He started writing notes to me—friendly, chatty ones. Then in the spring when I ran for student-body president, he was my greatest support.”
This is how the friendship began between a shy, mentally-handicapped boy and one of the most popular girls in the school.
After Mary Kay Harrop was elected student-body president of Lehi High School in Lehi, Utah, in the spring of 1989, her friendship with Shawn Broadhead continued into the next year. And he kept writing her notes. But when the time for senior prom rolled around, Mary Kay was totally clueless when Shawn’s notes became hints asking her to be his date.
“The prom was not on my mind,” Mary Kay says. A boy she had been dating had just left for a mission. Also she was extremely busy with her many tasks as student-body president.
One week before the prom, Shawn’s father, Kent Broadhead, had business at the school and decided to talk with Mary Kay. “I wanted to give her a way out without hurting anybody’s feelings. We were assuming she wouldn’t go,” he said. “I explained that Shawn had been trying to ask her to the dance and he wanted to have his picture taken with her.” Mary Kay’s response was an unexpected but pleasant surprise. “Shawn’s a great friend. I would love to go with him,” she said.
“She never hesitated for a moment to accept,” recalls Shawn’s father.
Shawn’s mother, Ladonna Broadhead, describes Shawn’s reaction: “When Mary Kay called and told him she would accept his invitation, there wasn’t a wall that could contain him. He called all of his friends and wrote to his brothers who were on missions. He was so excited.”
The day after Mary Kay accepted Shawn’s invitation, she tuned in to the Saturday morning session of April general conference. Elder Boyd K. Packer was speaking about our responsibility to the handicapped members of the Church. “When Elder Packer said we ‘manifest the works of God’ in our actions toward the handicapped, it hit me. I knew I was supposed to hear this talk,” she says. “I realized that I was not just going to the prom to please Shawn—to do him a favor. He was doing me the favor. I was the honored one!”
Early the next week, Mary Kay was sharing her feelings with some of her friends at work. One of them made the suggestion to invite all of the special education kids to the dance. And from there, the next few days were a whirlwind. Mary Kay went to Russell Felt, the principal of Lehi High, and he gave his permission. With the help of the special ed teacher, Dalene Callins, all the parents of the students were notified. Then Mary Kay and her mother, Alice Ann Harrop, arranged to have a turkey dinner for Shawn and nine of his classmates before the dance. “Mom did the whole meal, and my two younger sisters helped set up the tables and serve. They all really came through for us,” says Mary Kay.
Rides were arranged for everyone to the hotel where the prom was being held. Mary Kay continues, “When we got there, they were all bubbling over with excitement. The sophomore class president, Jon Bailey, took turns dancing with the girls from special ed and I danced with the boys so no one would feel left out. They were such a fun, enthusiastic group. The whole student-body responded to them. One boy in a wheelchair was pulled all over the dance floor. He had the time of his life!”
Of course, Mary Kay did not forget that Shawn was her official date for the evening. “Shawn was great,” she says. “He bought me the most beautiful corsage I’ve ever had, and he rented a tuxedo—all with money earned from a part-time job. And we did get our picture taken together.”
Mary Kay says this activity awakened an awareness in the students at Lehi High. “The special ed students have the right to be involved, and we should make more of an effort to include them,” she says.
This year, Mary Kay has been attending Ricks College, while Shawn has been completing his senior year in special ed at Lehi High. His father comments, “It’s a good school. I have such an appreciation for all the kids who befriend young people like Shawn. The special ed students don’t know they’re any different because they’re treated like they’re normal. It means so much to all of us parents who have children like Shawn.”
“This experience did more for me than it did for the kids involved,” claims Mary Kay. “I needed it to happen. It made the whole school year worthwhile.”
So, does that mean she would do it all over again, if she could? “Absolutely! Only I’d do it sooner,” she says.

While President Faust has spent so much of his life serving others in group situations, yet he has also known what it is like to be alone. His loyalty and integrity were operative then, too. Though the only Church member on a transport ship in the South Pacific in World War II (which for 83 long days towed a larger vessel to port), he nevertheless worshipped alone on Sundays. Searching out places where he could sing alone from a pocket-sized hymnal, he would read the scriptures, meditate, and pray in private. Often this meant going up to the front of the ship, where the waves would drown out his singing. Such steady, spiritual discipline reflects, of course, special training by his parents, George A. and Amy Finlinson Faust.

This story happened in the USA.
Olivia hurried out of her classroom before school was over. She tried not to look anyone in the eyes.
Today was Olivia’s first day of therapy. Her mom explained that she would be meeting with a doctor who could help her with her worries. Olivia felt worried a lot. Sometimes she felt so worried that it was hard to sleep or have fun with her friends.
Olivia got in the car with Mom and slouched in her seat.
“Are you OK?” Mom asked.
Olivia didn’t answer for a moment. “Why do I have to go to the doctor?”
Mom started driving. “Heavenly Father gives us doctors to help us. Just like how He gives us other things to help us, like friends and the scriptures. Do you remember the scripture chain we made?”
Olivia nodded. Mom had helped her find scripture verses that helped with her worries. At each verse, Mom wrote where to find the next one. When Olivia was worried at night, she would say a prayer and find one of the verses in the scriptures. Then she’d read the other verses in the chain until she could sleep.
When Olivia and Mom walked into the doctor’s office, Dr. Posy introduced herself. She asked Olivia about her feelings. Olivia told her a little bit about her worries.
“A lot of people have something called anxiety,” Dr. Posy said. “They get worried a lot like you do. But you can do some things to help you feel less worried. Can you try one of them with me?”
Olivia looked at her shoes and nodded.
Dr. Posy handed Olivia a little box. “This is a worry box. It keeps our worries safe, so we don’t have to think about them.”
Olivia turned the box over in her hands. It didn’t look like anything special.
“Next time you feel afraid, write your worry on a piece of paper and put it in the box,” Dr. Posy said. “Then pick a time to open the box every day for worry time. If you worry about anything before worry time, say, ‘I don’t need to think about this right now.’”
“OK,” Olivia said. Dr. Posy helped her write her biggest worries, and Olivia tucked them into the box.
Later that day, one of Olivia’s worries popped into her head. It’s in the worry box, she told herself. I can worry about that later. She tried to stop thinking about it. She played with her brother instead.
When it was time for bed, Olivia felt nervous. Nighttime was when her worries got the worst. She put her worry box and her scriptures by her bed and called for Mom.
“What if it doesn’t work?” she asked.
Mom gave her a hug. “Then we keep trying. Heavenly Father will help you find other ways that help.”
Olivia nodded. “Maybe I should write that down for the worry box too.”
“Great idea,” Mom said. She said a prayer with Olivia. That helped Olivia feel a little better.
A little while after Mom turned off the lights, a worry popped into Olivia’s head. She turned on her lamp. She wrote down the worry and put it in the box for later. She said another prayer to ask Heavenly Father to comfort her.
Then she opened her scriptures and looked for a highlighted verse from her scripture chain. The first one she found was Isaiah 41:10. It said, “Fear thou not; for I am with thee.”
Next to the verse, Mom had written “Doctrine and Covenants 6:36.” Olivia searched for that scripture and read it out loud. “Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not.”
Olivia felt peaceful. She knew she would probably think of more worries. But Heavenly Father had given her lots of things to help her feel better. He had answered her prayers. And that helped a lot!
Turn the page to make a scripture chain, like Olivia did!
Illustrations by Jennifer Naalchigar

In this historic Tabernacle, now more than 100 years old, Christmas colors and traditional decorations take us ever so gently back in memory’s treasure to a pioneer scene recorded in the diary of Mrs. Rebecca Riter, December 25, 1847, Great Salt Lake Valley: “The winter was cold. Christmas came and the children were hungry. I had brought a peck of wheat across the plains and hid it under a pile of wood. I thought I would cook a handful of wheat for the baby. Then I thought how we would need wheat for seed in the spring, so I left it alone.”

To the west of our home was our garden plot, and I rode the horse, while Father plowed the ground. Part of the garden was in potatoes and the new rich soil brought forth bounteously. One day, Pa said to Alice and me, “There are many more potatoes than we can use. If you would like to sell some, you may do so.” Accordingly, I dug the potatoes with our digging fork and Alice cleaned the dirt from them. We put them in a box in my little red wagon and hauled them down to the Brinkerhoff Hotel.
Sister Brinkerhoff was a very pleasant person, but we were still a bit frightened at first trying to sell our potatoes. She readily purchased our whole box. I believe we received two dollars for the entire lot.
As we showed the money to Pa, he asked, “What are you going to do with it?” We indicated we would divide it before buying some ice cream, popcorn, and candy. Then he questioned, “What about your tithing?” We had earned so little money that we had quite forgotten our lesson with eggs, but he outlined it for us again. Afterward, we went through the orchard and climbed through a hole in our wire fence to take our ten cents each to the bishop, and he gave us a receipt for our tithing.

Recently an attractive young woman came to my office with her parents. She came from a good family, but she had lost her way and now was in serious difficulty. She was unmarried and expecting a child and wondered what she should do. My heart went out to her. I think she loved the Lord. She had forgotten that those who love the Lord keep in contact with him and keep his commandments. She had control of her emotions until I asked her if she said her prayers. Then she began to cry.

How important it is that we communicate daily, and more often if necessary, with our Heavenly Father. He always loves us whether we are good or bad. It takes effort on our part, however, if he is to bless us.

On a recent trip to New Zealand, I met with a mission president who wore a beautiful tie tack with the inspiring CTR, or “Choose the Right,” emblem. “When I was a bishop,” he explained, “I had an interview with a good-looking young man who was to receive the Aaronic Priesthood. He told me a special story. He related to me how one day after school, he and some of his friends found a package of cigarettes. They decided to go down on the cliff alongside some large boulders and smoke them. They lit up, and the young man said that as he was looking down at the smoldering cigarette that he held between his fingers, he saw his CTR ring. He quickly put the cigarette out and made a very wise choice—to never, ever do such a thing again. He chose to choose the right, as he remembered what the emblem stood for. From this story I gained a special love for the CTR emblem.

The student council election results are in.
Matt told me the bad news. How are you doing?
I’m really disappointed.
I’m sorry you lost. But I’m also very proud of you.
Really?
Of course. You had some great ideas for your school, and you worked hard to get elected. You can feel good about that.
The next morning …
You’re right, Mom. I did my best. Now I’ll share my ideas with the new council. And next year I’ll start earlier, meet more students …
Will I be calling her “President Mandy” someday?

“A daughter made this comment: “Dad is a practical joker. I recall a story he relates about the time he and three other boys arrived at school early one morning. (Those were the days when everyone sat around one big stove in the room to keep warm.)
“The teacher was quite superstitious so the boys decided to play a little joke. They climbed up into the attic before school started. When all the others were assembled around the stove, one of the boys in the attic called down through the stovepipe in a ghostly voice, ‘I am the ghost of thy father come to haunt this room indefinitely.’ Well, needless to say, everyone ran from the room and the scene was one of total chaos.
“Later when the boys came down from the attic covered with dust and dirt, they were taken to the principal. He asked them some questions but couldn’t help laughing at their prank and their appearance.”

One Sunday after sacrament meeting, the children and we teachers were to go directly to our classrooms instead of meeting first in the Primary room. When I got to my classroom, I realized that I had left my teaching materials in the Primary room. I told my class to sit down, that I would be right back. Before I hurried away, I said, “Be quiet now!”
When I returned, the classroom seemed unusually quiet. I slowly opened the door and peeked inside. My students were all kneeling, their arms folded and heads bowed, quietly waiting for me to return to have class prayer.
I want to say thank you to my class! You are all really trying to do what Jesus Christ would want you to do.

So many live with accusing guilt when relief is ever at hand. So many are like the immigrant woman who skimped and saved and deprived herself until, by selling all of her possessions, she bought a steerage-class ticket to America.
She rationed out the meager provisions she was able to bring with her. Even so, they were gone early in the voyage. When others went for their meals, she stayed below deck—determined to suffer through it. Finally, on the last day, she must, she thought, afford one meal to give her strength for the journey yet ahead. When she asked what the meal would cost, she was told that all of the meals had been included in the price of her ticket.
That great morning of forgiveness may not come at once. Do not give up if at first you fail. Often the most difficult part of repentance is to forgive yourself. Discouragement is part of that test. Do not give up. That brilliant morning will come.
Then “the peace of God, which passeth … understanding” comes into your life once again. Then you, like Him, will remember your sins no more. How will you know? You will know!

It’s easy to say, “The time isn’t right.” But there is danger in procrastination. Years ago I worked for a man in California. He hired me, he was kind to me, he seemed to regard me highly. I may have been the only Latter-day Saint he ever knew well. I don’t know all the reasons I found to wait for a better moment to talk with him about the gospel. I just remember my feeling of sorrow when I learned, after he had retired and I lived far away, that he and his wife had been killed in a late-night drive to their home in Carmel, California. He loved his wife. He loved his children. He had loved his parents. He loved his grandchildren, and he will love their children and will want to be with them forever.

Now, I don’t know how the crowds will be handled in the world to come. But I suppose that I will meet him, that he will look into my eyes, and that I will see in them the question, “Hal, you knew. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Sister Hinckley’s maternal grandmother, Martha Elizabeth Evans, married George Paxman, the faithful son of a stake president. He knew carpentry, and they moved to Manti, Utah, where he worked on the temple there. They lived in a sod-roofed house and were happy companions sealed in the sacred covenants of the gospel.
Two months before their second child was born (Sister Hinckley’s mother), George Paxman was injured. He was setting in place the massive east doors of the temple. Perhaps one of the doors slipped a little and he strained to hold it in place.
Within the week he died an agonizing death as a result of internal injuries. Martha provided for her daughters by sewing for a living. She was a widow for sixty-two years, ever sweet, never losing faith. Her daughter’s daughter was to become the wife of an Apostle, a counselor to Presidents.

That could have happened to me. After graduating from college, I worked for a couple of years at a local nonprofit organization, where I was inspired by the skills of a new manager. I decided to pursue a master’s degree so that I could gain the kinds of skills he had.

Between the time I was accepted to the program and the time I was to attend, we learned that I was pregnant with our first child. Pregnancy is always a challenge, but due to some medical complications, pregnancies are particularly difficult for me. When I arrived to begin my master’s program, the heaviest question in my heart was whether I should be pursuing the degree at all. After all, I was now anticipating motherhood.

In my new ward, I was promptly called to be an assistant nursery leader. The counselor in the bishopric who set me apart for my new calling laid his hands upon my head and bestowed upon me all the usual authority, gifts, and admonitions attendant on a calling in nursery. Then, speaking to my most hidden fears and my deepest questions, he told me, in the name of Christ, to pursue and complete my master’s degree, that this was the will of God.

So I did.

Near the conclusion of my master’s degree, my husband received a good job offer in Washington, DC. I was preparing to be a stay-at-home mom to our then-one-year-old daughter. I felt unsettled by the move, and I wanted the confirmation of the Spirit to help soothe me. But the more I prayed, the more agitated I became. So my husband and I prayed, fasted, and attended the temple to seek guidance about whether or not to take the job.

The matter of our imminent move remained unresolved until the very last day of class in my master’s program. I felt a tremendous and unmistakable outpouring of the Spirit, and a clear, quiet, and calm voice spoke to my mind, telling me I would return for a PhD. I knew why I had been so uneasy about the move to Washington.

I didn’t tell my husband right away what my prompting had been—only that I’d had one and that I was at peace. We decided that when he had the same sense of peace, we could make a plan together based on our individual promptings.

Soon thereafter, he felt strongly that we should make a short-term move to Finland for an internship he had been offered. From Finland I applied for the doctoral program. In Finland my husband started his business.

I finished the doctoral program in about three years and soon found myself—most unexpectedly—on the full-time faculty at BYU. In addition to food, clothing, and shelter, our work has afforded us freedom, family time, fulfillment, challenges, and a great deal of happiness. We now have four children, and they are—individually and collectively—the central joy of my life. This was a future only God could see for me.