Gospel Story Finder

My second point is, the Holy Spirit has the power to guide. A 15-year-old girl felt that she needed to find new friends. Have you ever felt that way? She writes, “Now, I don’t know if you have ever had to change friends, but it honestly was the hardest thing I have ever had to do.” She decided to put her problem in the hands of the Lord, and she also counseled with her parents. She says that after several months “she wanted to just give up.” One afternoon she was casually talking to her seminary teacher, and she confided her problem to him. Then he said, “I really don’t know why I am asking you this, but do you happen to know these girls?” This girl answered with a yes. And then he said, “Have you ever thought about being friends with them?”
“I told him that there was no way that I could fit in with them. He then asked me if he could talk to one of the girls. I decided I would let him, if he promised not to embarrass me.
“Well, that next day I received a phone call from one of the girls. Now, you have to understand that this girl was on student council, and I hate to use the term, but she was ‘extremely popular.’ She asked if I would like to go to the basketball game with her that night. That night was one of the funnest, most peaceful nights of my life. The next day at school, she introduced me to two other girls. We all instantly became friends. This event has changed me.”
She concludes by saying, “I don’t know about you, but I would much rather have the Lord, who knows the outcome of everything, direct my life than me, who just sees things as they are at the time. He is right by our side, walking us through life, even when we feel so alone” (letter on file in the Young Women office).

I joined the Church when I was 17 years old. I had been introduced to it through Americans from a military base in my hometown in Germany. There was no German-speaking ward in my area, so I attended church with the Americans at the military base in the little multidenominational army chapel.
One Sunday not long after I was baptized, at the end of the services, the bishop stood up and asked, “Can all the parents with seminary students please remain behind?” He also asked me to join them.
Once these families, the bishop, and I were the only ones remaining in the chapel, the bishop explained that I was eligible to join their seminary class for the next school year. But I attended the local German school, which started over an hour earlier than the American school that all of the youth from the military base attended. In order for me to have enough time to race down the hill to get to my school on time, they would have to move their seminary class to 6:00 a.m., more than an hour earlier than they had been meeting.
The bishop then asked everyone to vote on whether they would be willing to make this sacrifice so that I could join the class. Immediately, all the parents and all the students raised their hands and said yes.
That was quite an impressive moment for me. It taught me a lesson about sacrifice. These young students were willing to personally sacrifice their own comfort—not only for a day or a week but for the whole school year—on behalf of a new convert who otherwise could not have participated in seminary.
I’m still grateful for their sacrifice, realizing how important that one year of seminary (studying the Doctrine and Covenants) was for my early life in the Church. Without seminary I wouldn’t have had much contact with the Church except on Sunday. Daily seminary was a great preparation for a mission. It taught me a lot about discipline, and, of course, it blessed me to no end in my knowledge of the gospel and the scriptures. Ask me all the Doctrine and Covenants scripture mastery verses from back then, and I will still know them. These experiences helped me to draw closer to Heavenly Father and also helped me to deal with the challenges of being the only German-speaking member of the Church in my town.

I was about to go to my room when Reggie drove up, waved, and parked his car. He was young and wiry and came up the steps two at a time. He told me of his small business, his young children, and lack of work, and finally that he simply could not see how he could pledge fifty pounds.

I gripped his shoulder. “Let me suggest that you discuss this with your family and with the Lord. You are not wanting to build this church for me, but for the Lord. Perhaps He has a way in mind for you. But most of all, don’t be depressed. No one expects you to do more than you are capable of doing.”

Reggie was in a hurry, and there was obviously nothing more that I could say. I knew that unless these leaders made their own commitments, their people could not be expected to respond. I did not have much time to think about Reggie; before my visitor was out of sight, a young hotel employee called me to the phone.

This time there was a definite air of excitement among them that had not been there before. I began to speculate, gave up, and asked Reggie to give his report.

“I didn’t see how I could possibly get the fifty pounds, but my wife and I decided to make the pledge anyhow and hope we could find a way to get it. After pledging the fifty pounds, I contacted a nursery to see what I could do. I got a contract to bring in wild flower seeds—we have the most beautiful flowers in the world here in western Australia. I was lucky; the nursery had just received a request for these seeds from a U.S. company. My family and I have given our Saturdays and every possible hour after work to gathering them. We have not only earned our pledge money, but we’ve also received some side benefits from the work. The children enjoyed the family outings as well as the opportunity to earn extra money. We have started some projects of our own at home that we could never afford before.” He looked at each of us and smiled, “It sure has been a great benefit for us!”

Julie sat and listened to the others talk. She wondered if she would be able to say anything without crying. It would be difficult. But then she decided that maybe it didn’t matter if she cried or not. These were her friends and they’d understand.

Above everything else, Julie was so glad to be alive. Each day when she woke up, she took delight in things she’d taken for granted before—the sun, the blue sky, the song of birds—it was such a wonderful world.

Julie was a senior. In two weeks she would graduate. Her senior year had been something she would never forget. She and her friends had been together all through school, and they realized that this was their last year to be together. They all wanted to have some good memories.

Julie had been in the pep club since she was a sophomore. She’d made some very good friends. Most of them weren’t LDS, but they were still great friends. They respected her beliefs and didn’t complain if she didn’t drink when they all got together after a game.

One day Vicky Kramer, her best friend since the eighth grade, talked to her. “Julie, after lunch tomorrow a bunch of us are going up to Daryl’s cabin to have a party for all us seniors. Daryl’s dammed off a section of the creek so we can go swimming. You’ll come, won’t you?”

“I don’t know, Vicky,” she began.

“I know what’s bothering you. Okay, there will be a keg there, but we’re getting diet soda especially for you. C’mon, we just want you to be with us. This is one of the last times we’ll have to all be together. Please.”

It was hard to say no to Vicky.

The afternoon with all the seniors had been a lot of fun. These were some of her best friends, and they all knew their time together was growing to a close. In the fall, they would scatter to colleges all across the country.

There was not just one keg, but two, and near the end of the party, there was still a lot left in one of the kegs. “C’mon, everybody, let’s finish this up,” someone kept saying.

Near midnight they decided to head back to town. Somehow Julie and Vicky got separated, and Vicky ended up in a car driven by Ross Turner, a senior basketball player who’d received a full-ride scholarship to the state university.

Julie was in the car driven by Bruce Seeley. Bruce had been one of the most eager to help finish up the last remaining dregs from the keg.

“Bruce, why don’t you let me drive?” Julie had asked.

“I can drive perfectly well.”

“You’ve been drinking all day but I haven’t. C’mon, it’ll be safer.”

“No girl can outdrive Bruce Seeley.”

“She’s right,” someone said, “she’s the one who should drive.”

By this time the first car, the one driven by Ross, had already taken off.

They switched places, and Julie got in the driver’s seat.

“Did you ever hear the story,” Bruce said, “that ends, ‘You’d better drive. You’re too drunk to sing’?”

It was a gravel road heading down a steep mountain canyon leading to home, so Julie drove slowly.

“It’s going to take us forever to get down at this rate,” Bruce said.

A few minutes later when they rounded a corner, they saw the first car. It had slid off a curve and hit a large tree.

Vicky Kramer died in the accident.

Julie stood up, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m so grateful to know that life goes on after we die. You all know about Vicky. Well, I miss her so much …”

I would not say that I had no goals before I was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. But I can say that my life had no clear direction. I sometimes felt as if I were walking in darkness, not really knowing which way to go.
Like most other 19-year-olds in Saint Petersburg, Russia, I hoped to someday get married, have children, and live happily ever after. Still, I wouldn’t say that I exactly knew how to achieve this goal—especially the part about living happily ever after.
But Heavenly Father knew. He knew that before I could attain real happiness, I needed to place Him and His Son at the center of my life. I started to learn how to do this not long before my 20th birthday when the missionaries began to teach my family about how to find happiness through living the commandments.
After we met the missionaries, it didn’t take long for me to know what to do. I prayed and knew that if I wanted to meet my life’s goals, I needed to be baptized a member of Jesus Christ’s Church.
Following my baptism, I was ostracized by some friends and family members who couldn’t understand why making this choice to follow Heavenly Father’s plan was so important to me. Despite this, I was happy. I knew He was comforting me by allowing me to go through these trials with peace.
By the time I turned 21, I had a strong desire to testify of the truthfulness of the gospel and share with others how resolving to live the commandments had changed my life, so I became a missionary. It felt wonderful to share with people what had happened to my life from the time I decided to put the gospel first.
My life has been full of blessings since that time. Eight years ago I was able to enter the temple and reach my goal of getting married. However, instead of only being married, I was sealed to my husband for eternity.
Over the last several years, my goal of becoming a mother has also been fulfilled. I have been blessed with three wonderful sons.
Not long ago my family and I had the opportunity to visit a temple open house. As we walked through the temple, our four-year-old son looked at me and said, “Mom, because you and Dad got married in the temple, our family is going to be together forever.”
I feel blessed and humbled to think of the last decade of my life. I am on my way to achieving my goal for a “happily ever after,” thanks to the fact that I turned my life to my Heavenly Father and to Jesus Christ. As long as I place Them at the center of my life, I know I can achieve my goals. I know that Heavenly Father and the Savior love us and want to help.
Would you like to share how Jesus Christ has touched your life? We welcome accounts of your gospel experiences and insights relating to the Savior’s ministry and mission. Possible topics might include the Atonement, grace, healing, hope, or repentance. Please limit submissions to 500 words, label them “We Talk of Christ,” and send them to liahona@ldschurch.org.

A good number of years ago I found myself on a bus. The bus was loaded with young men from all over the country. We were arriving at Castle Air Force Base in California to attend summer camp. We were cadets aspiring to be commissioned second lieutenants in the United States Air Force. As the bus entered the field, we got off and were met by a regular Air Force captain who assembled us in companies on the parade ground. Suitcases, duffel bags, and civilian clothes were everywhere. We were given directions to the barracks and the commissary. We were told to report in dress uniforms at 2:00 that afternoon on the parade grounds. I was assigned to lead the first company away.
It was an interesting summer. We spent much time in the classroom, some on the firing line, and some in the air. Each week there was a rotation of assignments; we all drew our fair share of disagreeable duty, and each week cadet officers were appointed to participate in special leadership training programs and to direct the lives of the rest of us.
As the summer wore on, I became aware that I had not received a leadership assignment. As camp drew to an end and the last duty rosters were posted, I noticed that I had been overlooked as a cadet commander. Knowing that my success or failure in the Air Force depended in part on how well I performed in this capacity, I asked for and received an appointment with the officer in charge of the camp.
At the proper hour, I presented myself at his office. I saluted. When asked what I wanted to discuss, I told him that I had noticed a mistake in the duty roster, and that I had not been given the rotating assignment of cadet commander. Without even looking from his desk the captain told me that he knew that, that he had already decided that I had no future in the Air Force. As I started to protest, he said, “You remember the day that you got off the bus? I asked you to march the men to the barracks. As I watched you, I knew that you did not have what it takes to be an officer in the Air Force. The duty roster stands. You are dismissed.”
A flood of thoughts came to my mind. Years of preparation were suddenly of no avail. The course of my life hung in the balance. I turned to leave. There was a silent prayer in my heart. More of a question than a prayer, really. Did I come this far to fail? I thought. I found myself immobilized in front of the captain’s desk. I struggled for words. My career was important to me. To my surprise, I clicked my heels together, saluted smartly, and without having taken thought of what I should say, I said, “Begging the captain’s pardon, sir, but I was under the impression that we were going to be graded by what we learned while we were here, not by what we knew when we came.”
Now you don’t talk that way to regular Air Force officers. There was no precedent for what I did or said. At the time, I didn’t know from what source came the courage for the words. But I do know that I was at a crossroads. My future activities and associates would be different, depending upon what happened at that moment. My temptations and trials would be different, depending upon what happened at that moment. I would be an enlisted man or an officer, depending on what happened at that moment. The course of my life hung in the balance, as it so often does on little things.
The captain got up from his desk; he nearly bit his cigar in two. He obviously was unaccustomed to that kind of insubordination. He walked around to where I stood. He looked at my shoes, he looked at my uniform, he looked at my double chin as I held myself at strict military attention. For at least five minutes, although it seemed much longer, he circled me time after time. I stood there not knowing what else to do. Finally he said, “I might have been wrong about you. Maybe you do have what it takes to be an officer in this man’s Air Force. We’ll change the duty roster; you can command your company during the last week’s activities. We’ll see what you can do.”

President Kimball qualifies as a friend of the Savior. When he was in the hospital ready to undergo open-heart surgery a few years ago, he was being wheeled down the hall and into the operating room by a young orderly. The young man accidentally smashed his finger between the metal door frame and the metal frame of the bed on which lay the already sedated prophet. When this mishap occurred, the young man, in pain, used an unfortunate expression in which he took in vain the name of the Savior. The prophet stirred, opened his eyes, and gently rebuked the orderly, saying, “Young man, don’t say that; He’s my best friend!”

In faraway Bucharest, Romania, Dr. Lynn Oborn, volunteering at an orphanage, was attempting to teach little Raymond, who had never walked, how to use his legs. Raymond had been born with severe clubfeet and was completely blind. Surgery had corrected the clubfeet, but Raymond was still unable to use his legs. Dr. Oborn knew that a child-size walker would enable Raymond to get on his feet, but such a walker was not available anywhere in Romania.
Let us turn now to Provo, Utah. The Richard Headlee family, learning of the suffering and pitiful conditions in Romania, joined with others to assemble a 40? (12.2 m) container filled with 40,000 pounds (19,000 kg) of needed supplies. The deadline arrived, and the container had to be shipped. No one involved with the project knew of the need for a child-size walker. However, at the last possible moment, a family brought forth a walker and placed it in the container.
When the anxiously awaited container arrived at the orphanage in Bucharest, Dr. Oborn said, “Oh, I hope you brought me a child’s walker for Raymond!”
One of the Headlee family members said, “I can vaguely remember a walker, but I don’t know its size.” Another family member crawled among the bales of clothes and boxes of food, searching for the walker. When he found it, he cried out, “It’s a little one!” Cheers erupted—which quickly turned to tears, for they all knew that they had been part of a modern-day miracle.
There may be some who say, “We don’t have miracles today.” But the doctor whose prayers were answered would respond, “Oh, yes we do, and Raymond is walking!” She who was inspired to give the walker would surely agree.
Who was the angel of mercy? Her name is Kristin Bestor. She was born with spina bifida, as was her younger sister, Erika.
Kristin’s father said to me at a celebration one evening, “President Monson, meet Kristin. She is the one who felt impressed to send her walker to Romania, hoping that some child there would be benefitted.”
I spoke to Kristin as she sat in her wheelchair: “Thank you for listening to the Spirit of the Lord.”
Later, as I walked out of that celebration, I looked upward toward the heavens and offered my own thank-you to God for children, for families, for miracles in our time.

I grew up with the same friends for the first 12 years of my life. We were neighbors. We went to the same schools and attended each other’s birthday parties. I sometimes ate at their homes, they came to mine, and we had fun together. But when we became teenagers, things began to change. They were not members of the Church, and they swore, they smoked, and they drank alcohol. They had a completely different view of the law of chastity than I did.
I thought about the problem carefully, and then I talked to my father about what to do. He said, “You have to decide. These good friends are different from you. Before you couldn’t tell, but now there’s a very big difference.”
I trusted my father’s counsel. My friends knew I was a member of the Church, so when I decided not to always go everywhere they went, they understood. Eventually, we spent less and less time together even though we were still friendly.
It was a trial for me to leave my friends, but I knew that it was important to maintain the principles of the gospel in my life. I thought about Alma’s counsel to his sons when he taught them to have faith in God. He said, “Whosoever shall put their trust in God shall be supported in their trials” (Alma 36:3).
One of the things that helped me get through this hard time was going every week to Church activities, including Mutual. I also kept myself busy with dancing, sports, and youth conferences.
I made a new friend who was not a member of the Church, and he sometimes invited me to go to parties. These parties were the same day as Mutual, so I told him, “I’m sorry. I would like to go, but I have other plans.”
He asked what I was doing. I told him, “I’m going to Mutual.”
“What’s Mutual?” he asked.
I explained that we had a lot of fun activities at Mutual and that I was serving as a counselor in the presidency. After I turned down three invitations to his parties, he said, “Invite me to Mutual.”
So he came with me, the missionaries taught him, and he was eventually baptized.
I invite you to make decisions now so that you can be a light to your friends. One thing you can do is attend seminary. Your seminary teachers do their part; they put forth a lot of effort in preparing lessons for you. Seminary will be even more of a blessing to you when you do your part: read the assignments, pray and fast, receive and accept the teachings. Learning takes place when both parties do what they need to do.
When I was in high school, one of my friends invited me to a party and said, “Let’s go ask my father if we can borrow his car.” His father did not want to let him borrow the car. Then, when his father saw me, he said, “OK, I’ll let you borrow the car, but only if Benjamín will drive.”
This man knew that my family and I were members of the Church, that we didn’t drink alcohol, and that I would be a safe driver.
The reaction of my friend’s father helped me appreciate my parents’ teachings and the example they set. At home we had family home evening and family prayer. Sunday was a day of rest for us. These types of things were the gospel in action for us, and we enjoyed it a lot. My father often invited other members of the Church to come to our house to talk about the gospel on Sunday afternoons. We ate together, we talked about the gospel, and we shared a close friendship.
Prepare now to build your own strong future families. You do that when you are active in learning about the gospel. Remember that if you will put your trust in God; have daily, fervent prayer; read the scriptures; keep yourselves clean; and work on your Duty to God or Personal Progress, you will be protected from harm, will be a light to your friends, and will find joy in your life.

Earlier this year, Isabela A., age 16, of Vila Velha, Espírito Santo, Brazil, traveled with her mother and sister to the temple; the last day of the trip was the one-year anniversary of her grandmother’s death. Isabela was baptized for her grandmother, and her mother did the other temple ordinances for her.
“I felt during this trip that I needed to do something good,” explained Isabela. “I wanted to learn to index, and I received help from Brother José Moscão.
“Then, when I was being baptized for my grandmother, the Spirit touched me deeply. I realized there were many people beyond the veil waiting endlessly, and they needed my help. I realized I could give a bit of my time to serve and that I could do a lot for these people. Indexing is a labor of love.”

Her three brothers—Miguel, Angel (called Micky), and Jorge—are quite a bit older than she is. About four months after Miguel returned from his mission, JoAnnie became very sick with a high temperature. Their mother asked him to give his sister a blessing. JoAnnie had faith that if he did, she would be healed. Miguel changed into his Sunday clothes and prepared himself to give the blessing. After the blessing, JoAnnie immediately became better.

Peter walked into the Primary room and sat down with his class. But he wasn’t thinking about Primary. Peter had just turned eight, and he was thinking about how excited he was for next Saturday, when he was going to be baptized.
Peter wondered what his baptism would be like. Would he still be able to remember it when he was as old as Brother Lancaster?
When Saturday came, Peter looked at the baptismal font, filled with clean, warm water. He wouldn’t have to wade through icy water like Brother Lancaster or be baptized in a frozen stream like the pioneers.
Peter looked at all the special people who had come to watch him be baptized. The bishop and Brother Lancaster were there, along with his family’s home teachers, his Primary teacher, and the Primary presidency.
Peter held on tight to Dad’s hand as he stepped into the baptismal font. He felt the warm water on his feet and legs. Then Peter’s father baptized him a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When he came up out of the water, Peter felt his heart could almost burst with happiness.
After he had changed into dry clothes, Peter walked back to the room where his family and friends were waiting. When Brother Lancaster reached out to shake his hand, Peter smiled and said, “I’ll remember this day for the rest of my life.”

If we choose the wrong road, we choose the wrong destination. For example, a friend of many years told me that her husband, always a “good kid” in high school, took a few drinks that he thought would help him forget some problems. Before he knew what was happening, he was addicted. Now he is not able to support his family, and he is ineffective at almost everything he tries to do. Alcohol governs his life, and he cannot seem to break free of its grip.

In KwaMashu, South Africa, the full-time missionaries hosted an event that, in basketball lingo, would have been “nothin’ but net.”
Since many of the communities in South Africa haven’t had much exposure to the Church or its teachings, the missionaries have to work hard, not only at teaching the gospel, but at letting people know that the Church exists. During their community service time, the missionaries decided to get youth in their area involved in a community activity that they knew a lot about—sports, especially basketball.
Radio and television stations soon got involved and were making public service announcements for the missionaries’ “American Streetball Tournament.” By the time the tournament rolled around, 115 young people arrived to play basketball, have a good time, and get to know the missionaries. Because of the hard work of the area elders, the Church is now known for its positive contributions to KwaMashu.
Of course, now that the missionaries are finished with all the hard work of putting the tournament together and getting to know their neighbors, the real work of spreading the gospel is just beginning. But the elders know that, as missionaries, they will always be on the winning team.

For many years I had a problem with a certain word—no. I couldn’t say it. Whenever anybody needed me for something—anything—I was there. And although I enjoy helping others, I’ve occasionally missed out on what seemed to be significant opportunities for my personal growth because I simply couldn’t say that one word. But one summer, what seemed to be one of my biggest mental impairments turned out to be the greatest blessing of my life.
I had recently graduated from high school and planned to attend college away from home the coming fall. It would be my first time living away from family, and I was excited for the new experience. I had a well-paying job at a local grocery store, a brand new car, and I was saving a lot of money. My life was in order.
One afternoon I approached my supervisor to tell her that I needed to transfer to a store closer to where I’d be attending college. But before I could get the words out she was telling me about a position opening the following week that she wanted me to fill.
It would have been easy for me to say no. I was starting college in a month, and there were several other capable people who could do the job. But I didn’t; I couldn’t.
I felt frustrated. Like most teenagers, all I wanted was to move away and enjoy college life. But suddenly I found myself staying home and postponing college—because I couldn’t say no to a supervisor.
I began my new duties, and, after a short time, settled into the new routine. As part of my responsibilities, I supervised a small group of people, including two high school students, Chris and Randa. After working with them for a while, I decided I liked Randa and asked her on a date. One of my co-workers found out about it and said, “You know she’s Mormon, right?”
Yes, I knew she was Mormon, but that meant little to me. At the time I was slightly misguided, thinking Mormons didn’t use electricity and drove horse-drawn buggies.
As for myself, I had no religion. My parents grew up in different faiths, but neither practiced into adulthood. I was raised in a loving home, but spirituality was not part of my upbringing. However, I had always been interested in religion. In high school I had friends whom I would often ask about God, Jesus Christ, and religious principles and values. A faith-filled life was something I had always wanted, but something seemed to hold me back.
Randa and her family regularly asked me to listen to missionary lessons, but I kept putting it off. It seemed too mysterious.
Randa eventually moved out of state to attend college, and we continued our relationship long-distance. One day she called and said, “I was just talking to my mom, and she said she wants you to listen to the missionaries.” This I knew, of course. But this time it was different.
Randa’s parents hadn’t wanted us to date because I wasn’t a Church member, but Randa’s mother said if I would take time to learn about the Church they’d accept our relationship. So I agreed.
The first few discussions were useless for me because I was simply going through the motions to get on the parents’ good side. I didn’t read the Book of Mormon or pray and was somewhat antagonistic toward the elders.
But the third discussion brought a change. I decided to read from the Book of Mormon, not so much for myself, but because I didn’t want to disappoint the missionaries again. Something surprising happened—I liked it.
In the next lesson I learned about the plan of salvation, the Word of Wisdom, the law of chastity, and how families can be forever. The principles being taught were ones I had always believed. Some religions teach that we shouldn’t drink alcohol or have sexual relations before marriage, but they do nothing to back it up. Some religions teach that when we die we will be angels in heaven and servants to God but have no recollection of our experiences and associations on earth. I couldn’t accept that. But here was a church that backed up what it taught. Here was a church teaching the same core values and beliefs I had always held.
Our next meeting was the clincher. Rather than teach a lesson, the missionaries showed On the Way Home, a film relating a story of a family who had a daughter die in an accident and later found peace through the knowledge that their family could be together forever through the gospel of Jesus Christ.
As I watched the movie I felt as if my entire body were being filled with some unknown power—some sort of light, peace, and bliss—and I started to cry. I thought, “This is a Church movie; what are you doing?” It was then I knew what I needed to do.
I was baptized August 20, 1998. I met with the missionaries because I wanted to please my girlfriend’s mother. I was baptized because I wanted to please my Heavenly Father and my Savior.
I have come to learn that the Lord knows us much better than we know ourselves. Throughout my younger years the Lord blessed me with desires for righteousness, though I wasn’t born a believer. Instilled within every human soul is the Light of Christ, “which lighteth every man that cometh into the world” (John 1:9).
If we listen to the quiet voice inside that prompts us along the road of righteousness, we will be led to a life of happiness now and throughout eternity. We won’t always know why we are making certain choices, and that’s OK. We just need to obey.
I once had an idiosyncrasy that constrained me from saying no to people who needed me. It was annoying. Though I wanted to attend college (and eventually did), what if I had said no to my supervisor the day she asked me to fill a new position at work?
Sometimes what we see as our greatest impairments may actually be our greatest blessings. It was for me.

A few years ago I decided to get in shape. I had never exercised much, and I was a lot softer and flabbier than I wanted to be. Fortunately, as a college student, I had free access to the university’s P.E. facilities—weight room, indoor track, whatever I needed.
As luck would have it, someone in my ward was already lifting, and his partner was moving away. So I became his new partner, and we started the program with enthusiasm.
The benefits of having a partner soon became apparent. For one thing, it was nice to have someone to talk to while I was working out. For another thing, I felt more committed to keeping a regular schedule because I knew someone would be counting on me to show up.
But the most important reason came up later, when we were bench pressing.
With most weight exercises, if your strength gives out while you’re in the middle of a set, you can simply drop the weights, or let go of the machinery. With bench pressing, you lie down and push weight above you. If you can’t hold it any more, you can’t just let go, because the bar would fall on your chest and possibly do serious damage. You have to push it up all the way—just one more time—and let it rest on the supports.
That’s why having a partner is so important. If your strength fails you when you’re bench pressing, you say, “Help!” Your partner, who is standing behind you watching, is on the alert and can pull up the bar as you’re pushing it, keeping you from hurting yourself. He can do it because he isn’t tired from lifting, and because standing up, he’s in a better position to hold the weight than you are.
An unspoken rule is that the partner doesn’t interfere until you say so. Sometimes it may look like you’re struggling, but the partner won’t reach in and start pulling up the bar until you ask him to.
One day my partner had to cancel our lifting appointment. He had worked the graveyard shift the night before and was too tired to work out, but he encouraged me to go by myself, which I did. I handled the other exercises just fine, since they don’t require a partner. And then I tried bench pressing.
I knew I shouldn’t try it without a partner. I knew that by the end of my third set, exhaustion would set in and I would need help on my last repetition. Sometimes just knowing my partner was there made me brave enough to try a few more repetitions than I normally would—because I knew if I got in trouble, he could help. Now, without him there, I figured I could do it, since I didn’t push myself too hard. I thought if I just did two sets, instead of three, I could probably handle it on my own.
I was wrong, of course. By the time I was halfway into my second set, my muscles were starting to give out. And yet I didn’t stop. I wanted to push it for just two more repetitions. On the second one, my arms came down, the weight now resting just above my chest—but my arms wouldn’t go up again! My strength was gone. I couldn’t do any more. I pushed and strained and wiggled around on the bench, but my arms were absolutely finished. I could do no more. This was the time I would normally say, “Help!” and my partner would pull the weight off me. But I had no partner. I had gone into it alone, and I was stuck.
Fortunately, a kind soul happened to walk by and saw my predicament, and he helped me out. I was embarrassed, but at least I wasn’t hurt. As I looked back on the incident, I realized how it ties in with the gospel. When we accept the gospel and are baptized, we become partners with Jesus Christ. Having Him with us motivates us to do good, just as having a lifting partner helped me stay on schedule with my workouts. And while we’re “working out”—going through life, trying to endure to the end—it’s good to have a friend there with us.

Susan and Harold Edmundson have never seen their two daughters, Treasure, 15, and Mindy, 13. Yet the couple knows their offspring are beautiful from the inside out, and they share one of the closest family relationships you could imagine.
If the situation sounds unusual, it is. Mindy and Treasure’s parents are blind. Always have been, always will be (in this life). The family lives together in a two-story frame house in Homer City, Pennsylvania, and gets by remarkably well. The parents say their daughters play a big role in that.
“We’ve never known what it’s like not to have blind parents,” say the girls. “Probably the biggest difference would be the things we do around the house.”
If you think you’ve got a lot of household chores, you should try trading places with Mindy and Treasure for a week. And since their mother was diagnosed with cerebral palsy, their workload has increased. “Of course we do all the housework,” they say casually. “We scrub the walls, clean the furniture, make the meals, scrub the kitchen, do the dishes, do the laundry, stuff like that.”
“It’s actually a good thing,” says their mother. “Most girls their age don’t know how to run a house. When they go to college or on missions, they’ll be way ahead of the game. Mindy can whip up a whole meal and make it seem effortless, when I know it’s not. And Treasure keeps the checkbook. I never need to worry about her cashing an extra check or writing one out for something she doesn’t need. They’re pretty special kids.”
Mindy and Treasure are happy to do it. They consider it their natural contribution to the family. And it doesn’t often keep them from doing the things they like. Treasure is a member of a championship cheerleading squad. Mindy loves to rollerskate and take care of her pets—she has several dogs and cats. Both girls attend Young Women midweek activities and Sunday meetings. Treasure also fits seminary into her schedule.
At an age when many kids are trying to establish their personal independence and want to avoid their parents as much as possible, it’s a little unusual to see that Treasure and Mindy’s parents are their best friends.
“They say we can tell them anything, and no matter what we do, they’ll still love us, even if they don’t love what we did,” says Treasure.
“And I believe that,” says Mindy. “They’ve proven it.” One time Mindy was out with a group of friends who were doing a little mischief in people’s yards. Mindy wasn’t actually involved, but a few hours later a state trooper pulled into their driveway and collected Mindy to go help them clean up.
“My parents told me I shouldn’t have been with those kids, and they were right,” says Mindy. “I got punished, but they hugged me first and told me they loved me. It’s always been like that.”
Of course, no one’s life or relationships are perfect. “The hardest thing about our parents being blind is having to ask our friends or their parents to take us places,” says Treasure, without making it sound like a complaint. “The people in the ward are great!” Their Young Women advisers and the other girls in the ward make sure the girls have rides to every meeting and activity.
When the girls’ mother was a teenager, her brother used to take her out on a boat in the river and read to her the names painted on all the other vessels. There was one racing yacht that she particularly liked. It was called the Treasure Lee. “That’s what I’m going to name my first daughter,” Susan told her brother.
The treasure she was to receive, in the form of two loving, giving daughters, was more than she could have hoped for.

When the youth of the Clayton Valley Second Ward, Walnut Creek California Stake, found out a group of orphans in Lithuania were living in severe poverty, they set out to make pajamas for all 96 of them.
“We had to cut the fabric out, and then we had an assembly line going. It was really fun. We all got to work together,” says 16-year-old Amanda Silvester.
Some spent the evening sewing sleeves, others ironed, and still others decorated lightweight tissue paper to wrap the gifts in. The completed pajamas will be sent, wrapped in their custom wrapping paper, with a tape of the youth singing to the orphans.
“I think it will be neat when they get them, because it may be the first present lots of them have ever had,” says Amanda.
“I think our youth realize how much we have, and they are more than happy to share with others. It’s really been a great project,” says Young Women president Marilyn Hulme.

As returned missionaries, Brother Dante and Sister Liaa Nicolas of Camiling 2nd Branch, Camiling Stake were concerned about missionary work during the pandemic. The family decided to help by inviting the full-time missionaries and their investigators to attend sacrament meeting with them. They also helped invite the Spirit of the Lord as they gathered to worship by playing prelude hymns and eliminating distractions like mobile phones.
“The people the missionary sisters were teaching had no wifi connection or gadgets to access church meetings, so we had them experience the Lord’s day right inside our house,” Sister Liaa relates. The Nicolas family continues to host the missionaries, investigators and new converts until conditions improve and face-to-face worship services can resume fully unhampered.

Then, one day, I was introduced to Myriam, a young woman who, at the time, I could only describe as “different” from others I knew. She radiated an inner beauty. We began to go out together and we became very good friends. I fell in love with her.
We had a very open communication and agreed about everything—except religion. One afternoon after discussing Joseph Smith (whom I could not accept as a prophet) and the Book of Mormon (about which I was very skeptical), she told me that she had been called to serve as a missionary in her stake.
Selfishly, I was angry that she had accepted the call and I told her that she must reconsider her decision or I would end our relationship. I was overwhelmed by her calm and self-assured response. She told me that if I really loved her I would try to understand and accept her decision and, most of all, support it. She also invited me to attend her church and try to determine for myself whether or not it was true.
As I pondered the consequences of losing the woman I loved, and as I saw how important Myriam’s religion was to her, I thought that the least I could do was to find out what motivated her decision—a decision I could not fully understand.
The light of truth in my life increased as I entered the chapel the following Sunday. I had my first surprise as soon as I walked through the door. A tall, blond man welcomed me very kindly, and introduced himself as the bishop of the ward. Not more than a few seconds later, several other members greeted me.
I was amazed that so many people could express such sincere love at our first contact. Then, as I sat through the meeting, I heard people talk about things of the spirit with a conviction and an eloquence that I had never heard before.
I had not been interested in investigating other religions because they had all seemed so mysterious. But as I continued to attend church with Myriam, the questions I had about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints were all answered. The light grew and finally the path led me to baptism and to a temple marriage with the woman who first showed me the way.
As a youth, it seemed that there were so many paths in life to choose. Many of them could have led to unhappiness. I can never repay the Lord for the special woman he put in my life to show me which path led to the eternal light of truth.