Gospel Story Finder

My sister speaks Russian. Since she came to live with us, I have learned the Russian words for ice cream (morozhennoye), cat (koshka), and thank you (spasibo).
My sister’s name is Sophie, and she is four years old. When she lived in Kazakhstan, her name was Nasipzhan. Mama and Papa changed her name after we adopted her and she came to America to live with us.
Sophie doesn’t look like me or my brother. We have red hair, freckles, and a gap between our front teeth. Papa says we look like peaches with nutmeg and cream.
Sophie has black hair, no freckles, olive-colored skin, and eyes shaped like almonds. Papa says Sophie looks like a porcelain doll. When she smiles, there’s a dimple in her cheek.
We look different, but Sophie is still our sister. We play soccer together. We ride scooters together. We eat popcorn and drink chocolate milk together. We even wear chocolate milk mustaches together.
My brother and I want Sophie to be part of our forever family. So do Mama and Papa. Soon we will go to the temple. We will wear white and meet together in a beautiful room. We will become a forever family.
Until then, Sophie will come to my soccer games. We will go on long walks. We will eat popcorn and chase the cats and make lots of chocolate milk mustaches together.
And I will tell Sophie how much I lubit her. Because lubit is the Russian word for love.

One woman endured a time of darkness when her eight-year-old son was killed in an accident. “My once-faithful testimony of Jesus Christ and life after death was seriously challenged,” she recalls. “My faith in him seemed shattered. But my doubt was not a rejection of eternal truths, only fear of the unknown. Like the father who beseeched the Savior to heal his child and cried, ‘Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief’ (Mark 9:24), I too cried out in anxious prayers.

“That was the beginning of a renewed faith that eventually led to a comforting trust. I was finally able to give my son to God’s care, looking forward with faith in my Savior with my own ‘brightness of hope’ (2 Ne. 31:20).”

As bishop of our ward, I encouraged parents to give their children opportunities to teach in family home evening. My wife and I decided to do as I had said.
Our son taught first, and we enjoyed his lesson on prayer. The next Monday was our daughter’s turn. She had been baptized only a few months before. Her topic was God’s creation. She asked a series of questions, which we answered in turn. She then bore her testimony and concluded.
My son exclaimed, “You’ve not taught us yet; you were only asking questions.” But I told my family that I had been moved when my wife, answering one of the questions, said that she is grateful to God for creating family units and giving her a wonderful family with a loving husband. I told them that my heart was full of gratitude when my youngest daughter answered the question “Who created the world?” by exclaiming, “Jesus.” I found many other answers overwhelming in their insightfulness.
So even though my daughter did not “teach” as my son expected, her lesson—and others my children have taught—are my favorite family home evenings.
Richard Ikpegbu, Nigeria

Dear Topher,
Thank you for the get-well card and the snapshot of you and that kangaroo on the playground. It sounds like school in Blackwater isn’t much different from here in Michigan, except I have never seen anyone bring a wallaby to class!
Yesterday was my twelfth birthday. My little sister, Kimmy, drew me a picture of an elephant on stilts. It was pretty funny. The nurse hung it on the wall by the side of my bed. Oh, and Mom and Dad bought me a puzzle—one of those hard ones with zillions of tiny pieces. I guess they think I’m going to be here for a while! Dr. Gunnerson tries to find a piece every time he comes in my room, but he says it’s harder to put together than some of his patients.
I feel about the same, I guess. Some days are better than others. It’s hard to know about cancer.
Well, I’d better go now, Topher. I’m real tired, and Dad is making funny faces and it makes it hard to write.
Your pen pal,
Cindy
Dear Topher,
It was fun reading your letter. Good luck with your part in that ward musical. Are you serious about your bishop playing Bigfoot? Maybe they grow bishops bigger in Australia—ha, ha!
Speaking of bishops, Topher, mine has been coming to see me a lot lately. In fact, he helped me finish that puzzle. It’s a picture of a raccoon and a turtle. I told him that I wish more people would show reverence for Heavenly Father’s creatures by being kind to them. He said that life is precious—all of it. I asked him if animals go to heaven when they die. He said that it says in the Pearl of Great Price that all things were created spiritually before they were placed temporally upon the Earth.* He said that spirits are eternal, so that certainly ups their odds!
Then we talked about dying, how it is a part of living, that it is like a door we all pass through in order to keep on living forever. He said that it isn’t so important how much time we have on earth but what we do with the time we have. Then he held me a long time and didn’t say anything. It was like he couldn’t talk. I think he was crying. Then he whispered in my ear and said that Heavenly Father was very proud of me and had a special place prepared for me in Heaven.
Later that day Dad and our home teachers—Brother Sullivan and his son Larry—gave me another blessing. Dad asked Heavenly Father that if it was His will that I should be called home early, that my pain might stop so I could better enjoy whatever time I have left. Well, Topher, guess what? The pain went away. It is easier for me to write now too.
Linda, one of the nurses, is bringing my supper in, and it smells good, so I guess I’ll say good-bye for now.
Your pen pal,
Cindy
Dear Topher,
You asked me in the letter I got from you yesterday if I was afraid to die. I guess I should be, kind of. But I don’t feel scared. Mom told me what Grandma Clanton said before she died about four years ago. She said she would be leaving Mom and the rest of us for just a little while and to not be frightened. She said she’d be happy and that we shouldn’t worry about her. That helped me a lot.
Another reason I’m not afraid is because I have a testimony of Jesus. He died so that we might all live again and so that families can be forever. I have an older brother in Heaven. Maybe I’ll be able to see him. And my Uncle Eugene. And my ancestors. I kind of got to know some of them when my parents were working on their family history. One of them, Nathan Twiggs, carried a chair on his back all the way across the plains—and not just so he would have something to sit on when he got tired walking! His grandfather, Thomas Twiggs, made it and used to sit on it with Nathan on his knees and read the Book of Mormon to him. Dad said it was in that chair that Thomas got his testimony.
If I could choose between staying or leaving, I would stay here on earth for a while because when I think of leaving my family, I feel sad. But Heavenly Father knows best, and Mom said that we were all probably both happy and sad when we left our heavenly parents to come down here.
Oh, I wish I could see that play you are going to be in, Topher! It sounds like it will be fun. I laughed when you said you brought a friend to dress rehearsal and you pointed to Bigfoot and said he was your bishop, and your friend said, “No wonder everyone is so reverent—I wouldn’t want to upset him, either!”
Take care of yourself, Topher. Kiss a kangaroo for me. I think they’re cute.
Your pen pal,
Cindy
Dear Topher,
I’m Cindy’s mother. You probably don’t know me. Or maybe you do, a little. Cindy most likely told you about her family in some of her letters. She’s told us a good deal about you.
Cindy passed away last week, Topher. She wanted me to tell you good-bye and that she would see you later. She said for you to work on your testimony every day because it will help make your trials much easier to bear. And you know what, Topher? It does. It does!
Write us when you can. We would like to keep in touch.
Love,
Cindy’s mom
Dear Cindy’s family,
I cried a lot when you told me about Cindy. Then, well, it’s hard to explain, but a warm feeling came over me. It felt like the sun when it pushes down through a bunch of dark, wet clouds. I know Cindy is happy, just as she said she would be. And what she said about you asking me to work on my testimony? Well, I am. I want one, too, so that when things get hard or confusing I can be strong—and happy, even when I’m sad.
I’ll write again soon.
Love,
Topher

In a stake conference in Campinas, Brazil, I enjoyed a soul-restoring experience of listening to the gifted, able, and charming president of the stake Relief Society, Sister Vilma Figuereda. She told of the great excitement and personal revelation she received regarding the truthfulness of the Church when she first heard its message from the missionaries. She was literally twice born, with energy, conviction, and a desire to tell all of her acquaintances and others of the healing and sanctifying message of the gospel. She walked over so many cobblestones and on so many sidewalks that she would wear out a pair of shoes each month. Her husband, at that time not a member of the Church but concerned about the many demands upon the limited resources of the family, asked her, “Couldn’t the Church at least buy you a pair of shoes?” The soles of her shoes were worn thin, but the inner soul of her being was fully restored.

Senior Year, High School—While investigating several churches to learn more about Christianity, I have discovered that some churches do not require extremely long periods of schooling to qualify as a minister. I have just visited a Bible college and learned that I can be ordained a minister after four years. After two years I could be assigned as a minister to a church of my own. I decided that I will go to the Bible college next year when I graduate from high school even though it will mean giving up a scholarship to another college. The classes appear interesting, but I sense something is missing from the college. Something seems to be missing in my personal life, too. How long will it take to find peace of mind?
Approaching Graduation—Religion is becoming less important in my life. I’m no longer sure of what I want to do. Deep inside me I feel guilty about something. I get upset at myself when I do wrong. But I still take a drink or smoke a cigarette now and again. After my first drink, my friends in high school were more worried about how it would affect my football playing than how it would affect my religious goals.
Change of Plans—I just received a scholarship to play football at Dodge City College only a few kilometers from my home. I don’t want to go to a college so close to home, but the scholarship will help pay for my studies. I gave up a scholarship offer before when I was planning to become a minister. Those plans will wait.
Summer—I’m working at the Dodge City Recreation Center and playing on a local baseball team. It’s not unusual for me to work all day, travel with the baseball team for a game, return home at 2 A.M. and get up at 7 A.M. to go to work.
What’s Wrong—This summer has been unusual. I haven’t gone to church very much. I read a lot and write a great deal. But religion seems to lack something. But maybe I lack something, too.
The Bible—I still consider the idea of Bible college education because I can have a ministry of my own very quickly. I commented once in Sunday School that we need to return to preaching the Bible. But one man argued that ministers should turn to more modern concerns and use up-to-date interpretations of the Bible. His remarks add to my confusion—religious leaders I know have different opinions about the meaning of the Bible and its place in modern times.
College Begins—I still pray sometimes. A few times I have said, “Show me the way, Lord, if there is one for me.”
Semester Ends—I have to wait till my assigned baptismal date. My first semester of college has ended and I’m on the honor roll as a top student. Last night I lay in my bed thinking how little time I really devoted to my studies. I laughed to myself and thought, “I did this and all without God.”
A Mormon Girl—I met a Mormon girl, Janet, the other night. I thought to myself, “What’s a Mormon?” I’ve investigated many religions but have never heard of this one.
Book of Mormon—I spent the weekend with my family. I asked Mom if she knew anything about Mormons. She said she thought there was a pamphlet in the bookcase. She found it and an old hardback book. I’m reading it now—the Book of Mormon. Mother said it was a Mormon Bible.
After the Date—Janet is the first girl I’ve dated with any regularity in at least six months. Tonight, after our date, we were talking and the subject of religion came up. I told her about my indefinite plans for the ministry and added, “There’s something wrong with every church.”
With confidence she replied, “Not mine.”
“Oh, sure, you tell me about it,” I answered. She isn’t the first girl that has wanted me to be interested in a particular church. But she definitely has a sparkle of purity, a twinkle in her eye.
I told her that I had been studying the Book of Mormon, and she suggested that I talk to the elders. I told her I’d like to sometime.
Following Monday—The strangest thing happened this evening. I work every night at the recreation center, but today when I called in, Mr. Braddock told me they didn’t need me tonight. I didn’t feel like studying, so I telephoned Janet about a date and she told me to come over to her house. The elders were coming. The meeting was arranged before I telephoned her, but on any other Monday night I would definitely have had to work.
The Meeting—While waiting for the elders at Janet’s home, I expected two old men in gray beards and maybe black hats to knock at the door. I was surprised when the elders turned out to be two young men close to my own age. Learning from them was a spiritual experience for me.
My Interview—I was interviewed tonight for baptism. I brought a signed statement from my dad to the elders giving his approval for my baptism. He used to know some Latter-day Saints. He said you have to be a missionary if you join their church. I told the district leader that the discussions were like the lifting of a veil, like I had heard the story before. The gospel contains many teachings that I have come to believe over the years, such as a literal, tangible, Heavenly Father concerned about us. I took the missionary discussions so fast that I have to wait till my assigned baptismal date.
April 27—I was baptized tonight. My family attended the service, as did many of the branch members. This is the cleanest feeling I have known in my entire life. The warm, friendly attitude of the members here is still one of the amazing things about this church.
Few Will Listen—I thought of dozens of my friends who would surely join the Church now. They just needed to learn about it as I had. It’s not like that. I know that most of my friends respect me very much for my high standards, but with others I wonder, as did the Apostle Paul, “Am I therefore become your enemy, because I tell you the truth?” (Gal. 4:16).
Sacrament Meeting—My family attended the branch’s sacrament meeting today. After the meeting, I went with the elders to my parents’ home for a missionary lesson. After the first discussion Elder Johnson tried to make an appointment to come again and teach my family.
“How about right now?” Mom asked.
So the second lesson was given. Dad had to leave then to do the farm chores. Mom quickly prepared a meal, and about an hour later Dad came back in and ate, and the third lesson was given. Three in one night!
July 27—Tonight I baptized my family. It is three months to the day since I joined the Church. Our family is finally united. As I brought Mom up out of the water, she embraced me and shed tears of joy. We have received life’s greatest blessings.
A Mission Call—I’m so excited! I came home from classes today to find a letter from the First Presidency. Quickly opening it I discovered that I would be going to California. I wept joyously. Feeling so insignificant in the Lord’s sight, I asked, “Why me?” The blessings of God seem so unbelievable. Now, in a week, I will leave on a mission to serve the Lord. I will be a minister.
Temple Sealing—Today I was sealed for time and all eternity to my Mom and Dad.
Temple Marriage—Janet and I were married this morning in the Salt Lake Temple. I thank God that a young woman lived the gospel so completely that I found a noticeable, attracting difference between her and other young people, thus leading me to the gospel. I encouraged my other young brothers and sisters to do the same. The gospel works.

Those who remain at home—parents and other family members—also sacrifice by forgoing the companionship and service of the missionaries they send forth. For example, a young Brazilian received a missionary call while he was working to support his brothers and sisters after his father and mother died. A General Authority described these children’s meeting in council and remembering that their deceased parents had taught them that they should always be prepared to serve the Lord. The young man accepted his missionary call, and a 16-year-old brother took over the responsibility of working to support the family.6 Most of us know of many other examples of sacrifice to serve a mission or to support a missionary. We know of no other voluntary service and sacrifice like this in any other organization in the world.

My falling away from the Church was gradual. It began in the fifth grade, when I met some new friends. We used bad language and got into all the wrong things. Once junior high came around, we entered into all the wrong groups, and by high school, things started to get really bad.
I became really depressed. I was wearing more and more black and kept insisting on thickly layering dark eye makeup. To me, life became something just to get through and not to enjoy. My thoughts were often suicidal, and I had no confidence. I almost completely shelled up. I never really talked to anyone, never told people what was going on. I knew I was loved, but I just didn’t care.
I almost completely fell away from the Church. I say almost because I was never allowed to skip church, and my parents always expected me to take seminary during high school. But I wanted nothing more to do with the gospel or the LDS Church.
My family and loved ones saw this downward spiral, and they tried to help. I often spent time on Sundays in the bishop’s office, and just as many days trying to avoid the bishop. He showed a lot of support and interest in me, looking into the things I believed in so that he could better understand me. My parents kept trying to help, but they didn’t know what to do. There were times when my dad and I were near tears trying to talk about our differences.
During my sophomore year, I hit a turning point when a foreign exchange student from Japan came to live with us. She was a softball player, and she convinced me to play that year. That experience alone did a great deal of good for me. The coach helped me raise my self-esteem, and the experience of belonging to and working on a team gave me the blessed feeling of belonging somewhere.
That summer I went to Japan to stay with the family of our foreign exchange student for five weeks. During my stay, I went four weeks without going to church. Finally, in the very last week, we stopped by the Tokyo Japan Temple to take pictures. In a strange country where the language and customs were so foreign to me, it was the most comforting feeling to finally be in a familiar place. The Spirit there was so strong.
That Sunday we found a ward building, and I attended church. It was amazing to experience sacrament meeting and Sunday School in Japanese, but what hit me most was when I went to Young Women. Seeing those few Japanese girls rise and say the theme, I realized that the gospel was just as strong halfway across the world as it was at home. I knew that many of these members didn’t have the support from friends and family that I did, but they still believed. Again, I felt at home.
Shortly after I returned to Utah, my brother Richard came home from his mission. Rich noticed my struggles and made it apparent that we would be having a lot of talks. He got me to pray with him.
But what really hit home was seminary. My dad found out I wasn’t enrolled for my junior year and was surprised. It wasn’t long before I was called to meet with the seminary principal. It was very nonconfrontational; he just talked to me, conveyed friendship, and expressed concern that I wasn’t enrolled. Finally I agreed to take seminary. I met my teacher, went to class, and that was it. I never skipped and rarely begrudged going.
I’m not sure when the transition took place, but I started to feel comfort. I began to pray regularly again. It was really hard at first, but I stuck with it. I read my scriptures and knew that they spoke truth. Life began to look up. I had more energy, confidence, and ambition. I felt better about the new friends I began associating with. I tried out for plays, immersed myself in my artwork, and started singing again. I tried out for my school’s select choir group and made it. I was no longer the shy, introverted girl I had been for so long.
I was also called to serve on the seminary council, and that was when I knew that I would be okay. If someone had told me a year ago that I would be where I am now, I never would have believed it could happen. I’m a completely different person. And I’m grateful to my friends, family, and teachers, who gave me their love and patience. Their faith in me was the constant in my life that I could always fall back on in my darkest hours. And now I’m so grateful for the gospel. I feel it really has saved my life. If I hadn’t made the turnaround when I did, who knows how far off the path I would have gone. I’m grateful I’ve never had to find out.
The Church is true; I know that with all of my heart and mind. Heavenly Father loves His children, and Jesus Christ is our Savior. Having the restored gospel on earth is one of our greatest blessings, and I pray that someday all of God’s children will come to know the truth and feel the same gratitude and love for Him that I have in my heart.

—Littleton, Colorado, April 20, 1999
In high school I played power forward on Columbine High School’s girls’ varsity basketball team. The weekend before prom I met with my coach to set expectations for the upcoming season, which would be my senior year. Coach Sanders and our team had just completed our first winning season in 12 years. He showed our team how to work together and be united. I admired his leadership and kindness. I didn’t know that would be the last time I’d see him alive.
The following Tuesday, two male Columbine seniors carried out an attack on our school that was the worst school shooting in U.S. history. I was in my trigonometry class when the massacre began. Suddenly, fire alarms went off, and in a confused panic, teachers escorted us outside to wait. We watched as ambulances, police cars, and a SWAT team surrounded our school. When the rampage ended, 13 people had been murdered and 25 others were injured, some very seriously. Coach Sanders died of gunshot wounds while saving students by clearing out the crowded lunchtime cafeteria.
I was one of the lucky ones who didn’t see the actual violence or have to live with the gruesome images that replay in a person’s mind afterward. I did have to deal with the death of friends, and I had to learn how to be sensitive about letting others grieve at their own pace.
The day after the attack, my bishop met with all of us who had experienced the terror. For a long time, he and I sat in his office and cried together. I asked him why such a horrible thing had happened to us. After a few moments of quiet consideration, he asked me to read from the Doctrine and Covenants. “Ye cannot behold with your natural eyes, for the present time, the design of your God concerning those things which shall come hereafter, and the glory which shall follow after much tribulation. For after much tribulation come the blessings” (D&C 58:3–4).
It didn’t make sense that Heavenly Father would let this happen. My pain was too raw to see any blessings. But I knew there had to be something in these verses, since they were the ones my bishop wanted me to read.
Ten years have passed since the Columbine shootings. I’ve gone on to receive college degrees, serve a mission, and now work in a job I enjoy. When I reflect on the events surrounding the infamous shooting, three lessons rise to the surface.
No one got to say goodbye before the victims were taken from their families, although many attended the funerals in a variety of churches to show respect and gratitude for their lives. The services rang with emotional eulogies and were biting with sadness and hurt. Many believed those goodbyes were permanent. Because of what my parents had taught me and what I had learned in church and seminary, I knew that their deaths were not the end.
Salvation is possible because of Jesus Christ’s Atonement. The Savior paid the ultimate price for our redemption and happiness (see Luke 22:42). I know that we will always receive heavenly help to see us through our trials—the big, splashy, front-page ones and the poignant hurts that only we know about individually.
After the shooting, the question “Why did I have to experience this?” often passed through my mind. I had lost my innocent view of the world, the luxury of feeling safe and the ability to readily trust people. It was unfair that my basketball coach and my friends were taken from me. I often didn’t know how to respond to others who were hurting and I felt guilty and angry in my inadequacy. It was hard to believe that after this tribulation any blessing could come.
Because my self-pity and anger smoldered for so long, it was hard to recognize them as problems, let alone get rid of them. People thought I was difficult and found it hard to get along with me. I had to dig deep to understand the turmoil that was going on in my mind so I could find a healthy way to address it. I didn’t work through these issues alone. I relied on prayer, friends, family and trusted in the Savior’s healing Atonement to mend my wounded heart.
I had to give up feeling sorry for myself and learn again to trust others. Columbine helped me become more empathetic and patient, more compassionate and loving, and more full of hope and joy. My experience is that no matter what happens to us during life’s journey, it all turns out right in the end. If we take every question and every burden to the Lord, He promises that as we learn of Him our questions will be answered. He also promises that as we take His yoke, His name, upon us our burdens will become light (see Matthew 11:29–30). Finally, I could stop punishing myself and let the hurt go away.
Tumultuous events are all around us in the form of depression, natural disaster, terror, or even things as simple as gossip or disappointment. I can’t comprehend how the Columbine gunmen could sink into a place so dark that they felt justified in killing. I feel sorry for them because they didn’t know how to escape their mental turmoil. Though we live in a scary world, it is critical to know that we need not fear. We’re entitled to the power and peace of the Spirit as we live righteously. This is the Lord’s promise and He always keeps His promises.
“Fear not, little flock; do good; let earth and hell combine against you, for if ye are built upon my rock, they cannot prevail. … Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not” (D&C 6:34, 36).
I’ve learned to let go of fear. I trust the Savior. I trust my Heavenly Father. I know we are all in His caring, merciful hands. We cannot control others or the world around us, but as children of God we can control how we respond to adversity. Cultivating a faith-filled perspective and uplifting thoughts tends to push out the negative and defeating ones. Anyone can turn on a light in a dark room; we create light and hope in the world as we choose to be happy.

Richard’s life, before joining the Church, was one of welfare checks, food stamps, social worker interviews, public health clinics, and unpaid medical and utility bills. Neither Richard nor his wife knew how to handle even small amounts of money. Richard experienced a marvelous conversion to the Church but came in with many personal deficiencies. He had great difficulty in holding a job. He was referred by his bishop to Deseret Industries for employment. For the first time in his adult life, he began earning a regular paycheck. As Richard worked at Deseret Industries, he began to develop pride in himself. He no longer humped over when he spoke. His wife and children began to develop respect for him as patriarch in the home.
The Deseret Industries rehabilitation coordinator worked closely with Richard as did his bishop. A checking account was established in his name. A workable family budget was outlined and agreed to. Doctor bills that had remained unpaid for over a year were paid. A two-and-a-half-month-old electric bill was paid the day the power was to be shut off. All other bills were slowly brought up to date and handled properly.
Richard’s life was changing. He felt self-worth and direction. Early in July of this year, the general manager of a large laundry-linen business came to the Deseret Industries. He was looking for good employees. Richard was to be given the chance to interview for a job. He expressed great anxiety about the interview. Richard and the Deseret Industries rehabilitation coordinator practiced interviewing over and over. Richard passed the interview and was hired. A new life-style was about to begin.
When Richard left Deseret Industries, a luncheon was held in his honor, during which the following was recorded:
“Brothers and sisters, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that I have found a job in the labor market which will pay me more money than I have ever made before. For the first time in my life, I will be able to provide for my family in the way our Heavenly Father wants me to. I am progressing, which is what this life is all about. The bad news, or I should say the sad news, is that I will be leaving all of you. I love you from the bottom of my heart. I am grateful for what Deseret Industries has done for me. I pray that you will all find the happiness I have experienced in working at Deseret Industries. I especially want to thank both Jim Wilson and my bishop who have done so much for me. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Richard surpassed his own and his new employer’s expectations. He has recently been promoted and given a handsome increase in salary. A soul, a human life, has been blessed—probably nothing else could have done what a bishop and a Deseret Industries rehabilitation coordinator did.

When I was a newly called counselor in our stake presidency, one of my assignments were the youth. One of the first major activities I helped organize and execute was the Stake Youth Camp. It was held in a campground in Mt. Makiling Los Baños, Laguna in October 2012.
At that time, I have only been a member of the Church for 4 years. Prior to the activity, I never had any experience in camping much more lead a 3-day youth camping activity. On day 1, we were welcomed by unexpected heavy rains.
I was the only member of the stake presidency present that morning. All youth were drenched in rain while setting up their tents. Their lips were purple from the cold when we started our opening exercise. The bishops and youth leaders approached me and with a deep sense of concern for the welfare of the youth asked me what we were to do. I did not have an answer.
I tried my best to call the other members of the stake presidency to counsel with them, but the spotty signal and the heavy rains made it difficult for me to reach them. I was afraid of being judged as an inconsiderate church leader.
I felt the need to seek guidance from the Lord Jesus Christ through prayer. As I was walking around and thinking of possible solutions, I turned my thoughts to Him and asked for guidance and inspiration. I also pleaded for strength for myself and for all the participants of the Youth Camp so we won’t get sick from the rain.
I was impressed to seek the assistance of the campground officer. He said he completely understood our situation and he would allow us to transfer to a covered hall with minimal additional charges. It was an answered prayer.
But challenges were not yet over. All day one plans were scrapped. The entire day was spent moving all of our camping gear from under the rain into the hall. We tried our best to dry all the wet items.
Now, the next question was what were we going to do the following day if the rain did not stop? That evening, all members of the stake presidency were already there. Our stake president decided that if the rain continues, we will cancel the camp and just go back to our homes.
Despite all the difficulty in day one, which we consider as character building experiences, most of the young men and young women still had a lot of fun and wanted to continue the camp. This desire prompted them to kneel down in groups and pray for better weather the following day.
Next day, everyone rose to a very beautiful sunny morning in Mt. Makiling. We were astonished by the power of faithful prayer. We were excited to continue with the activities!
The day two activity for young men was river trekking. They were asked to wear white shirts and neckerchiefs. Since there was a very recent downpour, the river was filled with ankle to knee-high deep water. Young Men leaders were situated in front, in the middle, and at the back of the pack. We were having a great time appreciating the Lord’s creation in the company of fellow priesthood holders.
We began feeling the heat of the sun as proceeded with the trek. Most young men took their neckerchiefs off. Many of them dropped their neckerchiefs just about anywhere. I was prompted to pick up every neckerchief I saw along the riverbank.
After about two hours of trekking, our stake president instructed the leaders in front to start our way out of the riverbanks. Thirty minutes have passed, and we still could not find a safe exit.
Finally, the leaders found an opening, but the climb was quite steep. We tried the suggested route but found out that it was too slippery and that it was almost impossible for us to climb up and out of the riverbank. We figured we needed to hold on to something to pull ourselves up the hill and out. Going back or finding another route was too tedious and was going to take longer. We each said a prayer in our hearts for a miracle to happen.
I was reminded of the neckerchiefs I collected. We tied each end together until we were able to create a strong enough rope where the young men could hold on to and pull themselves out. With everyone helping each other, we were all able to get out safely. That was the miracle of the neckerchief!
In Doctrine and Covenants 6:36, Jesus said, “look unto me in every thought, doubt not, fear not.” I learned in our experiences that doubts and fears are replaced by trust and faith when we look unto our Savior Jesus Christ. Looking unto Christ brings blessings of guidance and peace in our lives. In our pursuit to be lifelong disciples of Jesus Christ, my invitation to everyone, especially to our Rising Generation, is to look unto Christ.
As you perform the work that Jesus has prepared for you to do, He will strengthen and guide you. As you choose to do what is right, He will bless you with the spirit of discernment that will let you know right from wrong. As you prepare to serve full-time missions, He will help you better understand the gospel and develop love and compassion towards others. As you covenant with Him in the Temple, He will open great mysteries unto you. As you deepen your conversion in the gospel of Jesus Christ, He will help you gain your personal testimony of Him and His Atonement and how you can apply its blessings in your life. I testify of the divinity of our Savior Jesus Christ and of His love for us. I love Him and I love serving Him. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Benjamin Ballam is the special spina bifida child of Michael and Laurie Ballam. He has been such a blessing to them and many others. Also spiritually precocious, Benjamin is a constant source of love and reassurance. Having had 17 surgeries, resilient Benjamin knows all about hospitals and doctors. Once, when an overwhelmed attendant became vocally upset—not at Benjamin, but over stressful circumstances—little three-year-old Benjamin exemplified the words of another Benjamin about our need to be childlike and “full of love” (Mosiah 3:19). Little Benjamin reached out, tenderly patted the irritated attendant, and said, “I love you anyway.” A similar episode occurred recently in an Israeli hospital, where little Benjamin, going through a necessary but very painful procedure, used the same loving words to reassure a physician. No wonder, brothers and sisters, in certain moments we feel children are our spiritual superiors.

Here at Church headquarters we hold many committee meetings, and early this year in one of those meetings, Elder Neal A. Maxwell was listening attentively to a presentation concerning the development of local leaders. Near the end of the meeting, Elder Maxwell asked, “Is there more that we can do to help bishops bring peace and healing to the Saints?” I was interested in knowing more of his concern, so just prior to his passing and in the privacy of his office, Elder Maxwell expanded on the doctrines associated with obtaining peace and healing. He gave encouragement to my sharing these remarks with Church members.
Elder Maxwell was and remains a wonderful example of selfless love. His concerns for others were bone deep, especially for those with physical and emotional pains. Walking out of his office, one could not help but be more committed to being Christlike. He set a standard for us all. He loved the Savior. He was indeed a true Apostle and disciple. We miss him.

In Caleb’s baby blessing, I assured him he had completed his mortal task by being born and that he would have a brief time to rest as part of our family before returning to his heavenly home.
Yet Caleb and his mother had different plans. They wanted to spend more time together and do a greater work. God had perfectly matched Caleb’s courage with April’s love and daring optimism. April purposefully chose hope and trust in the Lord. With God’s help, she turned what was a sorrowful circumstance into a sacred setting.
April celebrated everything about Caleb. She made him a birthday cake after his first week, cupcakes for his second week, and cookies for his third week. Every day was a once-in-a-lifetime event for our boy sent home from the hospital without hope. Caring for Caleb became a privilege for us.
Though Caleb’s body was misshapen and broken, his spirit was whole, noble, and great (see Abraham 3:22). Even his missing eye became a blessing, making it seem as if he was continually winking. His wink became his distinctive feature. People were drawn to him, especially children. They would often ask, “Where is his eye? What happened to him?” I would jokingly say he was a pirate. But April would explain that in our family, a wink meant “I love you.”
Caleb never spoke the words, but his wink communicated love. His perpetual wink felt like a heavenly message, bringing God’s love and Christ’s light into our lives.
In our family, a wink means “I love you.”

Several years ago I had the opportunity of playing quarterback in the National Football League. Over a seven-year period I played for the Pittsburgh Steelers, the St. Louis Cardinals, and the Atlanta Falcons.
The first of the two thrills took place one day when I was playing with the Steelers against the Philadelphia Eagles. On the first play of the game from scrimmage, I faked to the halfback and dropped back into the pocket. I threw a long pass down the sideline, and my receiver, who was racing down the sideline as fast as he could go, reached out with one hand, caught the ball, pulled it in, and went all the way for a touchdown.
That touchdown pass was a great thrill for me. It was really exciting with 80,000 people cheering. Not many people will have that particular thrill during their lifetime.
The second thrill happened after I retired from professional football. A young man became interested in the gospel through some discussions we had. I invited him to my home. He brought his girl friend with him, and the full-time missionaries taught them the gospel. They were converted. I had the opportunity of baptizing these two young people. A year later they came to Salt Lake City, and I had the privilege of going through the Salt Lake Temple with them when they were sealed for time and eternity.
The experience of seeing those beautiful young people accept the gospel and be united forever was a great thrill. It was a different kind of thrill than the touchdown pass. There were only a few people present in the “sacred silence,” but it was still very exciting.
When I compare the thrill of the touchdown pass with the thrill of those baptisms, there is absolutely no comparison. The baptisms were far more exciting! That may sound phony at first, because now we “see through a glass darkly” (1 Cor. 13:12), but I testify that the greatest thrills in this life come from serving the Lord.
It’s perfectly logical when we think about it. Who is going to remember that touchdown pass? Just two people—myself and the fellow who caught the ball. No one else will feel the impact or even remember the play. Just try to remember who played in the Super Bowl two years ago.
In contrast, contemplate all those who will remember the baptisms: this young couple’s children, grandchildren, and many generations to come, not to mention those this couple have brought into the Church.
At the day of judgment, the books will be opened, and those baptisms will be noted. We will be able to see that record, and angels will look upon it. Many will feel the impact of this thrill throughout eternity. “And now, if your joy will be great with one soul that you have brought unto me into the kingdom of my Father, how great will be your joy if you should bring many souls unto me” (D&C 18:16). And while few of us may experience the thrill of a touchdown pass, every young man and woman in the Church can know the greater thrill of sharing the gospel!
There are many exciting thrills in life, but we will enjoy the greatest of them through the gospel by learning and growing, by teaching, by sharing, by serving as a friend and a missionary. If we can learn to love the things that God loves, we will comprehend the true meaning of life, and we will seek after the joy of the gospel with all our heart, might, mind, and strength.

It was the day before my football team’s first practice of the season. That night I was so excited I couldn’t sleep. I had saved up my money over the summer so I could pay all the fees myself. And now, at the age of 14, I was finally going to fulfill my dream.
During practice the next day, something really surprised me. It wasn’t how hard my coaches pushed us—I was expecting that. No, I was shocked at the filthy, vulgar language all the players and coaches were using. At first I tried to ignore it and not let it bother me, but after awhile it started to take its toll.
I found myself thinking those words, and even worse, repeating them when I was stressed. I prayed to my Heavenly Father and asked Him to help me be strong. Then, I made a promise to myself and to the Lord that I wouldn’t swear.
Later in the season we played a game against our biggest rivals. Right before the game started, our coach gathered us together to say a cheer. He told us the cheer that he wanted us to say, and unfortunately it required us to say a swear word. I remembered the promise that I made to myself and to Heavenly Father. I decided to say the cheer except for the swear word. I would just replace it with a more appropriate word.
When the cheer was over, the player next to me noticed what I had said and started to make fun of me. He went up to the coach and said, “Harsh is Mormon, and he’s not man enough to swear. He’s too churchy!”
I thought the coach would get mad at me or start to make fun of me as well, but instead he stood up for me and told my teammate, “Hey, leave Harsh alone. He has a lot of heart and can show you up on the football field any time!”
I was surprised. I thought my coach would respect me if I swore like everyone else. But actually, he respected me more because I was true to my standards.
I don’t know how big of an impact my example had on my teammates and coaches, but I realized later how strong that experience made me. Now, a few years later, it is easier for me to stand up for what I believe. I also realize that when we make a decision to obey the commandments, we are not alone. The Holy Ghost will help and support us through our trials.

Rebecca Rosanne couldn’t stop following things. She followed the big brown garbage truck as it crawled like a giant beetle from dumpster to dumpster in the apartment complex where she lived.
She followed the gardener on his riding lawn mower. And she followed the letter carrier in his little white jeep with the red and blue stripes. But every time Rebecca Rosanne followed something, she followed it so far that she got lost.
“Rebecca Rosanne,” her mother would say, “when will you stop following everything that moves!”
Rebecca Rosanne would hang her head. She never meant to get lost by following things. But she was curious about trucks and jeeps and lawn mowers. She was curious about the letter carrier’s bag of mail.
One day Rebecca Rosanne was digging in the sandbox when a strange bus drove into her neighborhood. It wasn’t orange like the bus the older children rode to school. It was green and black.
Rebecca Rosanne was curious. She ran to the parking lot, where the bus had stopped. People lined up to climb the three tall steps into the bus. So did Rebecca Rosanne. When she looked inside, she was surprised. Instead of seats on this bus, there were shelves of books. She followed a boy to the back, where there were some picture books on a rack.
Rebecca Rosanne pulled out a book and sat down on the steps that led to the back door of the bus. She smiled when she turned to the first page. There was a picture of a letter carrier beside a white jeep with red and blue stripes. A picture on another page showed where the letter carrier got the mail.
Then Rebecca Rosanne found a bigger book about trucks. She was so busy looking at this book that she didn’t notice the other people leave the bus. She didn’t hear the driver close the front door and start the engine. Before Rebecca Rosanne knew what was happening, the bus full of books was gently swaying as it drove out of the parking lot.
When it stops at the next apartment building, I’ll get off, thought Rebecca Rosanne.
But the bus didn’t stop at the next apartment building. Instead, it drove onto the main highway and headed downtown. Rebecca Rosanne was scared. She had never followed anything that far before. Her stomach felt as if she’d swallowed a bowlful of cold, wiggly worms.
Finally the bus pulled into a driveway behind a red brick building and stopped. Rebecca Rosanne heard the driver walking toward the back of the bus. When the driver saw her, he said in a kind voice, “Well, it looks like somebody hitched a ride on the bookmobile.” He bent down and asked, “What’s your name?”
Rebecca Rosanne was still scared, but she told the driver her name.
“Well, Rebecca Rosanne, climb off the bookmobile while I lock up. Then we’ll go into the library and call your mother.”
While she waited, Rebecca Rosanne said to herself several times the word bookmobile. She thought that a bus full of books was even better than a garbage truck.
And when Rebecca Rosanne saw what was inside the red brick building the driver had called the library, she was even more pleased. Books were everywhere!
A woman behind a high counter smiled kindly, then said softly, “This must be Rebecca Rosanne. Your mother just called. A neighbor told her that she’d seen you climbing into the bookmobile. I’ll call your mother and tell her that you’re here.”
The driver led Rebecca Rosanne to a room with tables and chairs just her size. “You can wait for your mother here,” he said.
Rebecca Rosanne looked at a book about trains until her mother came. “Hey, Mom,” she shouted, “a book on the bookmobile showed me where letter carriers get their mail. And this one is about trains!”
When Rebecca Rosanne’s mother saw how excited her daughter was about the books, she helped Rebecca Rosanne borrow some from the library.
One day when they were looking at a book, Rebecca Rosanne said, “I haven’t gotten lost for a long time, have I, Mom?”
“No, not since you stopped following everything that moves and started following books,” she said, giving Rebecca Rosanne a big hug.

I remember when I went to a daddy-daughter date with him. We sang a song together, and everyone there square danced. He was the life of the party. I was so proud. Then there was the time I was going on a pioneer trek with handcarts for a week. He gave me a blessing that I would have strength enough to do it. I got sick, but not so sick that I couldn’t finish. Again I was glad my dad held the priesthood.

When I was a 16-year-old high school student in Seoul, Korea, a Latter-day Saint classmate invited me to a branch activity. I was amazed at how many people greeted me as if I were an old friend. I thought, “What a wonderful church this must be to have such kind members!”
That Sunday I returned and was again greeted warmly. I was also introduced to the missionaries, and they soon began teaching me the gospel. Two months later I was baptized and confirmed. I didn’t yet have a deep understanding of the gospel, but I felt good about the principles I had learned. I especially liked the plan of salvation and the doctrine of eternal progression. It was comforting to know that if I would do all I could for myself, the Savior would do the rest. But the warmth of the members was what really led to my conversion.
Since then I have tried to be nice to everyone I meet. I want to pass on the kindness I received from the members of that branch. I don’t ever want to be a roadblock to anyone joining the Church.

I learned early in life that some things are just out of your control. Take my feet, for example. By the time I was 14 years old, they had become a whopping size 12—that’s in inches. Each foot was literally a foot long! For some reason, probably because I was insecure, I was terribly embarrassed about them.
Try as I might, there wasn’t a single thing I could do to change the matter. There were plenty of diet and exercise programs to help people lose inches off their waists but none designed to take inches off their feet. So I was stuck with large feet. I felt my only option was to wait, watch, and hope they didn’t keep growing.
What’s so bad about big feet? Well, for boys, I think they’re normal and pretty much expected. For girls, it’s a little different. Most girls I know borrow shoes from their mom or their sisters. All I could do was borrow my dad’s, and they never did match any of my outfits.
Also, the world wasn’t designed for big-footed women. I felt awkward when I went bowling or skating with my friends because I had to get men’s shoes or skates. I didn’t want my friends to notice, so I would usually wait until they were putting their shoes or skates on before I got my own.
I sometimes wondered why I was destined to have such large feet. Then one day when I was having shoes “specially” ordered for my high school musical, a costume designer told me that my foot wasn’t really all that long; I just had really long, slender toes. I played the piano with my long, slender fingers. Maybe having long, slender toes wasn’t such a bad thing.
That comment was my big turnaround. I decided to take the designer’s observation as a compliment. I stopped seeing my feet as a huge, gargantuan, never-fitting-into-anything embarrassment. I began to see my feet in a whole new light—as something unique to me.
My grandma told me I inherited my feet from my tall ancestors. That made sense to me because I was pretty tall. Maybe my feet had to be longer to give me balance. The size of my feet was imbedded in my own personal genetic code, along with other traits like my skin, hair, and eye color.
As I began to move past embarrassment, I learned to love my feet. I figured I might as well because they would be mine for the rest of my life. They were my wonderful feet. Once I took ownership of that fact, things started to change. I no longer whispered my size when asking for rental shoes but boldly stated, “I need a size 10 in men’s, please”—even when I was on a date! If I received a questioning glance, I would simply add, “Oh, I have big feet.”
I can hardly call this a huge trial, for it pales in comparison to many other struggles in life. But I have learned a bit of a lesson from my feet. Everything in life is not in my control. Oh, I can plan and work hard to reach worthy goals and achieve personal dreams, but some things are pretty much out of my control. But there are two things I have complete and total control over in my life: my attitude and my behavior.
Now I try not to focus on all the things I can’t control. When something happens I can’t control, I instead focus on how I’m going to think and act. I’m not alone, either, because the Savior is always there. He knows me; He loves me; and He wants to help me!
So, when life takes a different road, remember you have control over what you’re going to do about it, even if it’s a little thing—or big thing—like feet.