Gospel Story Finder

Under the stress and strain of our climate, sometimes people weren’t always at their best. Occasionally neighbors would squabble over one farmer taking too long a turn from the irrigation ditch. That’s how it started with two men who lived near our mountain pasture, whom I will call Chet and Walt. These two neighbors began to quarrel over water from the irrigation ditch they shared. It was innocent enough at first, but over the years the two men allowed their disagreements to turn into resentment and then arguments—even to the point of threats.
One July morning both men felt they were once again short of water. Each went to the ditch to see what had happened, each in his own mind reckoning the other had stolen his water. They arrived at the headgate at the same time. Angry words were exchanged; a scuffle ensued. Walt was a large man with great strength. Chet was small, wiry, and tenacious. In the heat of the scuffle, the shovels the men were carrying were used as weapons. Walt accidentally struck one of Chet’s eyes with the shovel, leaving him blind in that eye.
Months and years passed, yet Chet could not forget nor forgive. The anger that he felt over losing his eye boiled inside him, and his hatred grew more intense. One day Chet went to his barn, took down the gun from its rack, got on his horse, and rode down to the headgate of the ditch. He put a dam in the ditch and diverted the water away from Walt’s farm, knowing that Walt would soon come to see what had happened. Then Chet slipped into the brush and waited. When Walt appeared, Chet shot him dead. Then he got on his horse, went back to his home, and called the sheriff to inform him that he had just shot Walt.
My father was asked to be on the jury that tried Chet for murder. Father disqualified himself because he was a longtime friend of both men and their families. Chet was tried and convicted of murder and sentenced to life in prison.
After many years, Chet’s wife came to my father and asked if he would sign a petition to the governor, asking for clemency for her husband, whose health was now broken after serving so many years in the state penitentiary. Father signed the petition. A few nights later, two of Walt’s grown sons appeared at our door. They were very angry and upset. They said that because Father had signed the petition, many others had signed. They asked Father to have his name withdrawn from the petition. He said no. He felt that Chet was a broken and sick man. He had suffered these many years in prison for that terrible crime of passion. He wanted to see Chet have a decent funeral and burial beside his family.
Walt’s sons whirled in anger and said, “If he is released from prison, we will see that harm comes to him and his family.”
Chet was eventually released and allowed to come home to die with his family. Fortunately, there was no further violence between the families. My father often lamented how tragic it was that Chet and Walt, these two neighbors and boyhood friends, had fallen captive to their anger and let it destroy their lives. How tragic that the passion of the moment was allowed to escalate out of control—eventually taking the lives of both men—simply because two men could not forgive each other over a few shares of irrigation water.

I never had any question that the Church was true and that the gospel was how I wanted to live my life, so I continued going to church. I wanted Heavenly Father to know that I loved Him and that I was so sorry for my actions. I went to church every week even though it was very hard. The ward was uncomfortable with my being there, and only a few people talked to me. However, one special young woman with Down’s syndrome named Holly was particularly loving. Every Sunday as I would walk into the chapel, she would run up to me, throw her arms around me, give me a big hug, and say, “It’s so good to see you! I love you!” I felt as if she were acting for the Savior, letting me know that He was happy I was there.

It was particularly difficult to have to let the sacrament pass by without being able to take it because I knew I was not receiving the blessings. Taking the sacrament is such a blessing. It is incredible to have the blessing of being made clean through the power of the Savior and His atoning sacrifice, to be forgiven of our sins and shortcomings week after week, and to recommit with love and faithfulness to the covenant we have made to always remember our Savior and keep His commandments.
Because paying my tithing was so important to me, I set up a bank account and put my tithing in it each month. I needed the Lord to know that even though He couldn’t take my tithing now, I still wanted to pay it. I was single at the time and raising my three teenage daughters, and I felt that I needed those blessings of showing the Lord my willingness to pay tithing, even though I couldn’t. I have no doubt we were extremely blessed because of it.
I was rebaptized a little over a year after my excommunication. What a relief it was to come up out of the water knowing that Jesus was now my advocate, my partner. He had paid for my sins, and I was again in a covenant relationship with Him. I was filled with gratitude!
I received the gift of the Holy Ghost again. I felt once again a tangible presence: my dear friend was back to stay! I wanted to try so hard not to offend Him again so that He wouldn’t have to leave me.
I closed out the account with my tithing in it, wrote the check, and excitedly gave it to my bishop.
Five years later I was able to have my temple blessings restored. I felt so relieved and grateful. Once again I was covered in love and protected with the power of the covenants I had made in the temple.
I am now sealed to a man who adores me, and I him, and together we are actively working to establish our sealing as a covenant relationship that will last through the eternities.
In the 20 years since, I have sometimes felt a sense of deep guilt wash over me and cause me great unhappiness and worry. I wondered if I had done enough to repent and whether I was truly forgiven. As recently as just a few years ago, my feelings matched those of Alma the Younger, described in Alma 36:12–13:
“I was racked with eternal torment, for my soul was harrowed up to the greatest degree and racked with all my sins.
“Yea, I did remember all my sins and iniquities, for which I was tormented with the pains of hell; yea, I saw that I had rebelled against my God, and that I had not kept his holy commandments.”
One day I knelt down in prayer and asked, “Father, have I done enough? I will do whatever I need to, to have this taken from me.” Then I waited and listened with my heart.
The answer came very clearly: “You have done enough.” I was overcome with pure joy. I couldn’t stop smiling, and happy tears flowed. All that day I found myself giddy with joy. All the shame and guilt was gone for good.
Again I reflected on the experience of Alma the Younger:
“I could remember my pains no more; yea, I was harrowed up by the memory of my sins no more.
“And oh, what joy, and what marvelous light I did behold; yea, my soul was filled with joy as exceeding as was my pain!” (Alma 36:19–20).
My journey to regain my membership in the Church and my covenant relationship with the Savior was heart-wrenching and tender. I came out of this trial knowing that the Atonement of Jesus Christ is most precious. It has taken me almost all of these 20 years to get past the shame and guilt of my excommunication and to find the strength to share my experiences with others. I hope my experience inspires others to find courage to change and to reach out to those who want to change. I can stand and testify without a doubt that the Atonement of Christ is real. His power can change your life not only for the better but for the very best.
I love my membership in the Church dearly. It is a priceless gift and an incredible blessing in my life. I never want to be without it again.

As a youth, I wasn’t planning on serving a mission, but people constantly bugged me about going. They reminded me that the Lord expected me to go. Those telling me to go on a mission meant well, but the pressure made me not want to go.
One day, the local missionaries had an emergency. As a result, a missionary would be left alone for the day. I was asked to stay with him until his new companion arrived. That night, after we had prayed and prepared for bed, my “companion” asked me if I was thinking about serving a mission. I told him no.
He replied, “When you feel like you should do it, then do it.” In other words, if the Holy Ghost prompted me to serve, I should go. I didn’t feel any pressure when he spoke, but I did feel the Spirit. The missionary’s words stayed with me and eventually helped me to find a job and save money for a mission.
On my mission, I developed a special closeness with Heavenly Father. I learned that when the Holy Ghost tells us it’s time to do something, we need to do it.
Leonardo Z., Argentina

Amy explained that when her modern-day family saw the pageant performed in Nauvoo over a decade ago, they recognised the beautiful pioneer spirit there and knew they wanted to be part of it. After applying multiple times, they were accepted as part of the family cast of the Nauvoo and British Pageant to be performed in Nauvoo during 2018.
Remembering that amazing experience, Amy reminisced, “We danced and sang and worked day after day in the hot sun to learn our parts, to be ready to perform. Our kids danced and played music in the country band all while costumed from head to toe in 1840’s pioneer attire. One week of rehearsals and the next week is go time! It’s quite miraculous how it all comes together. I’ll always remember and cherish the feeling of unity we shared as a family.”

There are two ways the Thordersons learned this lesson: one, because they are all different from each other, and two, because as members of the Church, they are very different from most of their friends.
With six kids in a family, you can hardly expect them to all have the same likes or dislikes, virtues or vices. Sometimes this makes getting along with each other difficult, but in the Thorderson family, having different talents was encouraged. Jim said, “Our parents always let us do what we were interested in, like when Kurt wanted to be a photographer, he worked to earn a camera and they helped him. They always helped us pursue what we wanted to do.”
Consequently, Eric, Kurt, and Jim, the three oldest, have grown up to be very different people. Eric is a businessman, Kurt is doing a residency to get his M.D., and Jim is making a name for himself as an artist. But these differences have never stopped them from having a good time with each other. For instance, the year before Jim went on his mission, all three of them played on the basketball team at Wayne State University in Detroit. They know from this and many other experiences that being different doesn’t mean they can’t be friends.
And all of the Thordersons know that being different because of their values is more than all right—it’s the way to set a good example for others around you. Kurt said, “While we were growing up, Eric and I were the only LDS students in our high school, and we were in a graduating class of about 650. And then when I went to Wayne State, the only other Latter-day Saints out of 30,000 people were Eric and Dad (he works as an administrator there). It was hard, but it also made me stand up for what I believe.”
The Thordersons went to seminary at 6:00 A.M. throughout high school, and they all talk about what a great program it is. “Early morning seminary, I think, was a big boost for us,” said Kurt. “It really takes a lot of commitment to go, and I think it’s worth it.” Nels, the fifth child, who is on a mission in Salt Lake City, said, “It starts your day out right to see your Church friends early in the morning before school starts.”
Jed, who is 13, hasn’t started seminary yet, but the example of his older brothers and sister has inspired him to read the Book of Mormon each morning before school with his mother. They read one chapter a day, and they have already read through the book three times. Because of this experience, Jed is sure he’ll have no trouble getting up for seminary when the time comes. As the youngest of this clan he has probably benefited the most from the 3F formula because it was well established by the time he came along. “I think all of these big brothers are great—I get to wear all of their old clothes!” he laughs. You don’t have to ask Jed twice if he thinks the 3F formula works. He has learned its power through example, and it’s not a lesson he’s likely to forget.
So, now that you’ve met the Thordersons, do you believe the formula works?
Maybe you think, yeah, I guess they have a pretty good time together, but I still don’t understand how that little 3F thing can make such a difference.
Well, to tell the truth, it’s not the formula that makes the difference. The formula is just a reminder of the results that come when you apply the truths the Thordersons learned. Add some of your own activities, too. Things like going to your brother’s football game, or living the principles you learn in seminary, or laughing at your little sister’s corny elementary school jokes are what makes the 3F formula work. Those things have more power to change your earthly and heavenly home than you imagine. The 3F formula is powerful—you’ll have a lot of fun with it if you give it a try. Just ask the Thordersons, who are living proof; they’ll tell you they’re working on the 4F formula, too. That’s family = friends = fun = forever.

James Henry Rollins, a refugee from the mobs in Missouri, moved his family to Nauvoo and sought the Prophet’s help: “I went with him to his store and he asked Newell K. Whitney if he had any work for me to do. He replied nothing that he knew of then, that he had sufficient help at present. Joseph said to me, ‘I have work for you’ and he took me through in the back of the store and showed me about the cords of hickory wood. He asked me if I were a good hand with the axe. I laughed and said, ‘Well, some little.’ He said the clerks here were too lazy to cut their own wood. I asked him if he had a sharp axe. He turned to Lorin Walker and said, ‘Get the axe for him. I want him to chop up this wood,’ which I did and piled it up the same day. The next day he came to the store and unbarred the outside cellar door. When the doors were opened [he] asked me if I thought I could [rearrange the supplies] and I told him I would try and see what I could do.
“He was pleased with the change I had made with the appearance of the cellar. …
“… At this time a good deal of work was being done on the Temple which the workmen received [requisitions] for their labor on the store.
“It was very much crowded for two or three days, and as I stood in the counting room door looking at the faces in the house, there were a great many very familiar with me, and they came to me as they were waiting for their pay, asked me if I could wait on them. Joseph being in the store at the time said to me, ‘Why don’t you wait on these people.’ I told him when I was ordered I would do so with pleasure. He then said, ‘go and wait on them.’ I then went to work behind the counter on the grocery side and payed off many orders this day and the next, the store being crowded constantly and at least 50 to 100 people to be waited on from morning until night and being so very close with so many present was very oppressive to us all.
“When Joseph came in, and saw us looking tired and pale, he told us to shut up the store that night and not open again for two or three days, which we did until we got rested. Then opened again for business” (“A Sketch of the Life of James Henry Rollins,” Church Archives.)

When attending the stake conference of the Winter Haven Florida Stake (now Lakeland Florida Stake) we were invited to stay at the home of Brother and Sister Nolan. After the Saturday evening session we visited for awhile before retiring for the night I asked the Nolan's to tell us about their conversion which had occurred almost 20 years before. They both smiled then Sister Nolan started telling us about their eventual baptism. Her story went somewhat like this: "We had been married just a short time and one evening were having a big fight" Brother Nolan interrupted his wife by saying, "Now dear, we were not fighting, just having an argument" Sister Nolan continued, Well anyway, we were really upset with each other and in the midst of the argument the doorbell rang. I answered the doorbell and there were two Mormon Elders at the door. I called to my husband that two Mormon missionaries wanted to visit with us. His response was 'send them away!' I was so mad at him that I invited them in!" Brother Nolan continued, "As those missionaries came into the room, the ill feelings we had for each other just disappeared. We both knew that there was something special about these young men and the message they left with us."
At the time of our visit, Brother Nolan was serving as a counselor in the stake presidency and their son had submitted his papers to serve as a missionary.

Early on a Saturday morning, 19 December 1987, my family piled into our van to make the four-hour trek from Shelley, Idaho, to Salt Lake City, Utah, to finish our Christmas shopping and to see the lights on Temple Square. The trip felt routine. We had made it several times before, and I quickly fell asleep in the backseat.
After less than an hour I awoke in terror as the van jerked to the left, then to the right. Suddenly I was thrown from the vehicle and landed on my backside on the cold, snow-covered roadside. Only moments before, my mother had fastened my one-year-old sister into her car seat after feeding her but failed to buckle her own seatbelt. I sat rubbing my hip, listening to our van tumble in the background and trying to recall the circumstances in which I had fallen asleep.
When the van came to a rest, everything was silent for a moment. Then, as I caught sight of our mangled van, I began to realize what had happened, though still not understanding the magnitude of the tragic event.
Bruised slightly and quite confused, I walked to the wreckage and my family. Everyone appeared to be in pain. I stepped close to my mother, who sat leaning against the van’s tire, and asked how she was. The indecisive phrase “I don’t know” satisfied my frightened mind.
Within minutes an emergency helicopter arrived to rush my mother and five-year-old brother, Josh, to a nearby hospital. I climbed into one of two ambulances that carried the rest of my battered family to the emergency room. Suffering from a mere scrape on my back, I was the least injured.
My family dispersed into various examination rooms for individual treatment before we were reunited an hour or so later in a small hospital room at the request of my father. I looked around the room at family members whose medical treatments were temporarily postponed and began to worry about the effects of this unthinkable tragedy. Two of our family were missing: Josh, who I later learned was in a coma in critical condition, and Mom.
The words my father then spoke will never fade from memory.
“Mom is dead,” he mumbled beneath his tears.
My heart sank, and my eyes also filled with tears. The room was silent for a few moments as these words sank in.
“Who’s going to cook for us?” nine-year-old Sarah asked.
Dad replied with the best words of comfort he could think of under the circumstances. “I don’t know. We’ll work something out.”
Christmas was different that year, falling only six days after the accident. We postponed celebrating the holiday until Josh had recuperated enough to join the family. Then, on our special Christmas morning, my seven brothers and sisters and I gathered in a circle around the tree with my dad to open presents. As was tradition in our family, the youngest, my one-year-old sister, picked the first present to open. She chose a gift my mother had prepared for the family before her death.
Dad removed the wrapping paper from a framed cross-stitch that read, “The circle of our love is Forever.” The implication of that simple phrase brought peace to my family in that time of trial, and the meaning behind the words has bound us together ever since with the knowledge that we will see our mother again.

After a mission came service in the U.S. Marine Corps. But once, for a short time, I was separated from LDS companions. Some of the Marines I was with encouraged me to go on weekend leaves with them.

Finally, after a few weeks, they persuaded me to go with them on Saturday evening. We rode the bus into the city then boarded the streetcar. I could see the type of relationships they were starting to develop with the girls on the car. I knew this was wrong, and I moved to the rear of the car. There I found a different type of young people. I asked where they were going, and they said, “To a dance.”
I asked, “Where?”
They said, “It’s at the LDS church. Would you like to join us?”
Were they surprised to find I was a member of the Church! I got off the streetcar with them and had a delightful time with friends who shared the same values I did.

“All right, all you boys, there are lots of girls who would love to dance, so let’s get busy.” Our tour adviser looked directly at Jason and me and then turned on the record player again. A tropical breeze shuffled through leaves in a planter behind us on the hotel patio.
I had only just finished eighth grade and didn’t even know how to dance by myself, let alone ask a girl to do it with me.
“I guess we should go dance, Brad.” Jason was rolling up the embroidered sleeves of his “I’m-a-tourist-in-Mexico” shirt he had bought that afternoon.
“No, not me.”
“But Mr. Jarman said there are girls who want to dance, and anyway this is the last night of the tour and we’ll probably never see them again.” A sudden gust blew Jason’s hair across his eyes. Casually he pushed it back again.
This educational tour through Mexico had been sponsored by our school district, and up to now it had been a great experience. Why did they have to spoil it with a dance?
“Come on.” Jason stood me up. “You ask Joan, and I’ll ask Christie.” He buttoned his top shirt button, moved across the patio, and offered his hand. “Hey, Christie, would you like to dance?”
I stood back and watched in hopes of learning instantly the intricacies of social interaction.
Christie flipped her hair, “Gee, ah thanks, Jason, but not right now.”
“What about you, Joan?” he asked.
From my safe position behind the lines, I noticed Jason’s crooked-tooth smile. I saw my friend for the first time as those girls might be seeing him, and I guess overall he did look kind of unusual.
“I’d really like to dance, Jason, but I don’t like this song.”
He tugged at his gaudy new shirt. “Well, maybe later?”
The two embarrassed girls looked quickly at each other. “Oh, ah … we’re not feeling too well.”
After a moment he came back to me. “Listen, Brad, who should we ask next?”
I still couldn’t believe what Joan had said. “Not feeling well! She felt good enough to dance with Monroe a few minutes ago,” I complained to Jason.
“But he’s a senior in high school. We’re only eighth graders.”
“Ninth grade now,” I reminded. I followed him to the tile fountain in the center of the patio, where Stephanie LeBette stood. With her hand on her hip and her nose in the air, she might as well have been a water-spouting statue.
I realized what Jason was about to do even before he said, “Hey, Stephanie, how about a dance?”
“Jason, don’t …” I turned away with elaborate casualness. Stephanie broke her pose to smile disdainfully and glide haughtily away.
“Well, how about it? You want to dance?” Jason called after her.
“No gracias, señor.” She didn’t even bother to look back.
I pushed a ripple into the fountain pool. “I don’t get it, Jas. I thought girls liked to dance.”
“They do,” he assured. “Look, why don’t you ask Stephanie?”
“No way, not her. I don’t want to get turned down, too.”
With his square fingers Jason jarred the water again, contorting our shadowed reflections.
“Brad, if Stephanie doesn’t want to dance, it’s her problem not yours.”
“But if she said no, why keep asking her?”
“Why not?”
The director turned up the music again. Jason stepped closer to me to be heard. “Why should you let her decide how you are going to act?” He pushed his fingers through his hair again. “I’m going over there and ask some new girls. Want to come?”
I shook my head and sat on the tile rim. It felt cold in the evening. Jason walked away, stepping awkwardly to the beat.
As I think back on the incident, I realize that Jason is one of the few people I’ve ever known who acts toward people. Most of us react to them. He knew what he wanted and how he should behave. If Stephanie had refused me like that, I’d have either crawled off and buried myself in a Mexican pyramid, or said, “You’re not so neat yourself, you goat,” and maybe bitten her ankle or something.
I remember that evening as though I were a character in a cartoon, sitting by that cold fountain thinking but with nothing written in my thought bubble. If I were to fill it in now, I guess I’d write, “No one is more miserable than the dummy who always reacts.”
At that long-ago dance my center of confidence was outside myself, being kicked around that patio like an old can. If Christie had said, “You’re cold,” I’d have sneezed. If Monroe had said, “You’re hot,” I’d have sweated. My feelings toward the whole situation were totally dependent upon a few people who could decide if I were to be embarrassed or proud, rude or gracious, introverted or extroverted. Unlike Jason, whose emotional security was rooted within himself, I had relinquished control of my own personality.
I’m thankful for that skinny, unkempt tourist friend and for the important principle he personified—to act and not to react—for in all the dances I’ve attended since that bomb-out in Mexico, not once have I bitten Stephanie LeBette’s ankle.

My parents had been within those very walls, though they weren’t able to frequent them as often as they would like to. They first went to the temple together a year after they were married. It was difficult because even though they knew they couldn’t afford to go, they knew they couldn’t afford not to either. It was always emphasized in our home to go to the temple as soon as we could and to make temple marriage our goal. My parents also showed me how important and sacred their covenants were. They taught me that they received many blessings from keeping their covenants, and because of their example, I decided that was something that I wanted too. Throughout the years, I kept reminding myself to “always keep the temple within my sights,”1 even though the nearest temple was far away.

When Larry was nine years old he decided to pursue a career in law. Watching Perry Mason save unjustly accused defendants appealed to his sense of justice. In addition, a lawyer’s ability to lift people and improve their life coincided with his belief that people should love and serve one another.
Soon the whole family knew of Larry’s desire to be a lawyer. When Larry turned 17, his mother’s cousin invited Larry to work for his law firm. Larry was thrilled. Three nights a week he would go to the law library to do research. He spent the evenings reading, and reading, and reading. Larry enjoyed reading, but the cases did not excite him. In the summer he worked full-time for the law firm filing papers, serving subpoenas, and doing other tasks.
The more he learned, the more he discovered how much Perry Mason failed to show. Yes, lawyers did all the things that had excited him so much. Unfortunately, they also did a lot of things that didn’t excite him. Finally, he realized he didn’t want to practice law.
He became a career counselor instead, an occupation that has made him happier than he ever thought possible. He is grateful to his mother’s cousin who gave him a chance to find out, before going through all the schooling, that he would not enjoy law.

We were swimming in the pool at a hotel and found a pocket watch at the bottom of the pool. We asked a lot of people if the watch belonged to them. They all said no. At the end of the day, we felt like we should go to the pool one more time with the watch. There was a family in the pool. We asked if the watch was theirs. They said it was, and they had been looking for it all week. It belonged to their dad, and it cost a lot of money. I’m glad we listened to the Holy Ghost so the watch could be returned.
Huntley, Sarabeth, and Caelin C., ages 10, 9, and 7, California, USA
Illustration of watch by Joe Flores

Young Women in the Warner Robins First Ward, Macon Georgia Stake, had their last standards night at the beach. Well, okay, not exactly—but they did come with their beach towels and sunscreen, ready to learn and have a great time. The “beach” was actually a room at the meetinghouse where talks about how to stay in spiritually “safe water” were given by “lifeguards” who were actually their parents and leaders.
The standards night was based on an article in the October 1994 issue called “Swim between the Flags.” Each leader-lifeguard had a flag that represented a standard; principles like honesty, modesty, and chastity were discussed.
“It was a very positive night, and I received answers to some questions that I had,” says Mia Maid Sarah Harden.
Beehive Stefanie Papenfuss agrees, “The leaders talked about some things that I had never thought about, like making the right kinds of friends to help you keep your standards strong. The whole night was a lot of fun, and I learned a lot.”

Some time ago, I attended a young single adult ward on the campus of Boise State University. It was particularly poignant for me because, just a few weeks earlier, our daughter Michelle had left for college for the first time. I was missing her, and I couldn’t help but wonder what she would be doing that day.I was blessed to participate in a multitude of meetings and discussions with many faithful young students in that ward. Sacrament meeting felt especially sacred that day.

During the meeting, I noticed a young woman about the same age as our daughter who entered the meeting late and quietly took a seat in the back—about three rows into the cultural hall. She looked like she had a bright future at school and in every aspect of her life. As the emblems of the sacrament were passed, I noticed that she lowered her head and did not partake.

I decided right then to address my remarks to this young sister. So, without her knowing that she had inspired me, I spoke on the infinite Atonement of the Savior Jesus Christ and the incredible blessings of repentance and forgiveness. I shared the precious truths that we are all commanded to repent and that repentance is merely coming unto Christ and being changed in Him. He truly is “the way, the truth, and the life”; happiness and peace come in and through Him and in no other way.

At the conclusion of the meeting, I looked for this sister, but she had disappeared.

The next meeting was a large Sunday School class in the cultural hall. To my surprise and delight, this young sister had returned and was in class. The lesson was a discussion primarily focused on the blessings of repentance, forgiveness, and coming unto Christ. This sister was again noticeably touched.

When Sunday School ended, the stake president, who was not aware of my concern for this young woman, said to me, “Elder Nattress, last week I attended Relief Society,” adding, somewhat sheepishly, “I hope that’s OK!” I assured him it was OK. He continued, “It was fascinating!” He then asked if I would be interested in attending a Relief Society meeting. I told him that I would love to.

When we arrived, I noticed this same young sister sitting on the front row. After the opening hymn and prayer, the Relief Society president announced, “We will now turn the balance of the meeting over to Elder Nattress.”

I was both shocked and unprepared. I stood up, and my mind went completely blank. I didn’t know what to say. But I gathered my thoughts just enough to ask a question: “What is the greatest challenge facing you today?”

Immediately, on the back row, a young sister raised her hand. She emphatically declared, “It’s the young men of this Church!” She continued with a list of several concerns—each one legitimate and very important.

Then the young sister on the front row raised her hand. With tears streaming down her face, she simply said, “The greatest challenge facing me today is that I know I need to repent.” With sincere and heartfelt pleading, she said, “After falling so far, how does one come back?”

She continued: “I haven’t been active in the Church for nearly two years. This morning, when I got up, I decided I would try one last time to come to church. And now I’m here.”

After she spoke, sisters started to gather around this young woman, literally and figuratively, and helped her feel the love of the Savior. Her wise stake president stood and said, “I don’t know you, but, after the meeting, I would like to give you a priesthood blessing.” Following the meeting, her stake president, her bishop, and I placed hands on her head, and her stake president gave her a beautiful priesthood blessing. It was a sacred moment.

In the following weeks, I frequently checked in with the stake president to see how this young sister was doing. His response was always the same: “She is doing great!” Several months later, I called and asked again. He responded that she had moved home. I asked if she was OK. His response was somewhat reassuring. He said, “She is just fine, Elder Nattress.” However, I was still concerned for her.

Several weeks after that call, I attended a stake conference. At the conclusion of the conference, a young single adult sister who looked very familiar approached me and said, “Do you remember me?” She continued, “I am the girl from Boise State University.”

It was her! I asked how she was doing. She said, “I am the Relief Society president of my ward.” She then added: “I am so grateful for the gospel of Jesus Christ. I am grateful for the gift of repentance. My life is changed forever.”

Following that meeting, Sister Nattress and I continued to stay in contact with her. Eventually, we received a phone call from this wonderful young sister, who said, “Elder Nattress! I’m engaged to be married in the Rexburg Idaho Temple. Will you and Sister Nattress come?”

We arranged our schedules and were blessed to witness a perfect moment in time when she and a worthy young man knelt across an altar in the Rexburg Temple and were sealed for time and for all eternity. She had returned to the covenant path.

When serving in Peru as the Area President five years ago, I came to know General Vidal.

General Vidal had just been promoted to be the youngest general in the Peruvian National Police Force, and I had the chance to go to lunch with him. While we were having lunch, he told me an interesting story.

He said that about two years before, while he was still a colonel, he walked into his superior's office, the general in charge of all Peruvian police. There was another general sitting there, who said to him: "Colonel Vidal, you're a Mormon, aren't you? He replied, "Yes, I am." This other general said: "Well, I am Catolico, Apostolico, Romano (meaning I am a Catholic through and through), but I know about you, Colonel Vidal."

Turning to the general in charge of the police force, he said: "I need Colonel Vidal to go to this place and solve a corruption problem that I have there." "I am sorry", the superior replied, "but he can't go because he is straightening out a corruption problem where he is right now."

The other general then turned to Colonel Vidal and said: "Give me the name of another Mormon colonel". And Colonel Vidal did so. "Then I want that colonel to go to this place and solve the corruption problem." "I am sorry", once again the superior said, "but that colonel is also straightening out a corruption problem where he is right now."

Once again the general demanded of Colonel Vidal: "Give me the name of another Mormon colonel." "I am sorry, sir, said Colonel Vidal, "there are no other Mormon colonels."

Now, of course it is true, that there are people in every religion who are people of integrity. But I thought it was interesting that this general, "Catolico Apostolico Romano", had apparently formed such a favorable opinion of Mormons, that he wanted a Mormon colonel to solve his corruption problem. Because those two members of the Church were known to be honest and incorruptible.

One of these challenges came when I chose to pay an honest tithe when I was away from home. Every year my dad would take us to tithing settlement. He would help us calculate our tithing, and we would pay it. All during the time I was growing up, I developed this habit of paying tithing. If you had asked me at the time, I would have told you that I had a testimony of tithing.

When I finished high school, I had been admitted to Harvard University, so I worked that summer and earned money to pay for the expenses that weren’t covered by my scholarship. By the end of the first semester, I had foolishly spent all the money that I had earned to get me through the whole year.

At the start of the second semester, I got a job. I couldn’t work very much because I was a full-time student, but I worked a few hours a week and received my first paycheck. Of course, it wasn’t very much, but it was all I had to get by until the next paycheck.

Then the question arose in my mind, “What about tithing?” I had been in the habit of paying my tithing but had always had sufficient money to pay the tithing. Here I was faced with the challenge: do I pay my tithing when I don’t know if I’ve got enough money to get through the next two weeks?

As I thought about it, I remembered the scripture in Malachi 3:10, where the Lord promises, “Prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.”

So I realized that was my answer. I would leave it up to the Lord. I paid my tithing, not sure if I had enough money to carry me until the next paycheck. And a miracle happened. I made it through that two weeks.

It came to me so powerfully that the Lord keeps His word. The Lord came through the way He promised. Just as the scriptures say, if we pay our tithing, He will bless us. That same miracle happened every two weeks throughout the rest of the semester. Before, I had thought I had a testimony of tithing, but now, because of my correct decision, I had a powerful testimony of tithing. The Lord always does what He says, so my testimony continued to grow step-by-step.

For many years I’ve known a girl who has become a very good friend of mine. She isn’t a member of the Church, but she respects it and what it stands for. We had never talked much about religion. I assumed that she believed what she wanted to believe and wouldn’t change. However, I had prayed for a long time that the opportunity to teach her would come.
My prayer was answered at a sleepover for my 16th birthday. When most of the other girls had fallen asleep, my friend and I moved to an adjacent room so we wouldn’t wake them, since we planned on staying up a little longer talking. Eventually our discussion turned to who we are, what we are doing here on earth, and where we are going after this life. My friend was curious to know what our religion says about these questions. I was a little apprehensive, so I started out slowly telling her a basic version of the plan of salvation.
As I talked, I started shaking. I couldn’t help it. I felt the Spirit so strongly that I paused often to catch my breath. She seemed to sense something different and asked me what was wrong. I told her that this plan made me feel so happy inside. I then bore my testimony to her, and we were silent. All I could think about was how it felt to truly know for myself the truthfulness of the gospel. I had never borne my testimony like that before, and I will never forget the experience.

But there are others in our everyday lives. My most memorable one had to do with modesty.
Some years ago, my daughter was invited by her boyfriend (now husband) to attend a very important work event that needed a reasonably formal dress. They went shopping and came back with this very cute but totally immodest dress. This was on a Tuesday, and the function was on the Friday. They had a minor request of me. “Please, adapt this for it to be modest enough for me to wear comfortably,” my daughter asked. Their trusting eyes and faith in me was touching but misplaced. I was effectively a non-sewer.
After succumbing to a panic attack, I figured that I was in the same boat as Nephi had been. Maybe not. I did at least own a good sewing machine. I beseeched the Lord for help, and quickly. I was a working mom, so I only had a few evenings to perform a miracle.
We found some fabric that could help. This was a strapless dress with a laced-up bodice showing lots of back. Straps were made, a bolero jacket covered bare shoulders, but the back was still a problem. I managed to fashion an insert to go behind the lacing, and at the end of it, it looked pretty good. We dubbed it the “Minnie Mouse” dress, as the black on red spots reminded us of her. That dress represented a very spiritual experience for me. I prayed at almost every stitch! The Lord gave me inspiration where I had no knowledge and guided my hands every inch of the way. Now I wonder why I didn’t call on more knowledgeable sewing friends. The idea didn’t occur to me. As a result, I had the most tangible experience of relying on the Lord to date.

After his mother died, Gordon B. Hinckley felt responsible for his younger brother and sisters and helped them in many ways. He worked hard and saved money for his schooling. When it was time for his sister Ramona to graduate, he realized how important it would be to her to have a new dress for that special time. Thinking more about her needs than his own, he used some of his hard-earned money to buy her a beautiful new dress.