Gospel Story Finder

Years ago, while immersed in the task of preparing a talk for general conference, I was aroused from a sound sleep with an idea impressed strongly upon my mind. Immediately I reached for pencil and paper near my bed and wrote as rapidly as I could. I went back to sleep, knowing I had captured that great impression. The next morning I looked at that piece of paper and found, much to my dismay, that my writing was totally illegible! I still keep pencil and paper at my bedside, but I write more carefully now.

I remember my beloved grandmother, Mary Caroline Roper Finlinson, making homemade soap on the farm. The soap had a very pungent aroma and was almost as hard as a brick. There was no money to buy soft, sweet-smelling soap. On the farm, there were many dusty, sweat-laden clothes to be washed and many bodies that needed desperately a Saturday night bath. If you had to bathe with that homemade soap, you could become wonderfully clean, but you smelled worse after bathing than before. I have since developed a daily appreciation for mild, sweet-scented soap.

The rodeo chute burst open and a raging, bucking bronco leaped high into the air. A cowboy sat on the horse in perfect form, the rhythm of each move matched to the twisting and turning of the wild animal.
But then the crowd rose to its feet and gasped as the massive animal came crashing down on its side, all of its weight crushing the left foot of its rider.
Zane Davis picked himself up and hobbled over to the chute. When he got his boot off, the foot began to swell. The crushed bones eliminated his chances to continue in the competition, but that didn’t keep Zane down.
Less than a month later he was back in the saddle, working his way to the title as top college rodeo rider in the United States.
Now Zane is serving a mission in Brazil and teaching the gospel to people in Portuguese. And he says, “I wouldn’t trade this mission experience for anything—even a national professional rodeo championship.”
It was in June of 1990 that Zane Davis secured the award as the national collegiate all-around cowboy of the year in the College National Finals Rodeo in Bozeman, Montana. Although only a freshman at the College of Southern Idaho, Zane didn’t get to the number-one spot by simply riding a few wild horses and winning a few competitions. Zane’s training started before he could walk, when his father, Shawn Davis (a three-time National Finals Rodeo saddle bronc world champion), took him along to rodeos across North America.
At the age of three, Zane insisted that he be allowed to ride in the rodeo against the eight- to twelve-year-old cowboys. But since he was too young to compete, he was only allowed to demonstrate his riding skill. Undaunted, he put on his hat, boots, rope, and spurs and climbed aboard a rather angry calf. Zane says that the next thing he knew he was on the ground. Apparently, he had ridden the calf almost to the time limit before falling off.
He entered his next rodeo when he was only five, and this time a pony bucked him off. But he still walked away with third-place honors. Hundreds of rodeos later, Zane had earned an impressive array of saddles, belt buckles, trophies, and cash prizes. The success came as a result of hard work.
Each day at his parents’ ranch in Idaho, Zane exercised by doing eighty sit-ups, twenty pull-ups, and four hundred push-ups. In addition, his riding included roping ten to twenty calves and practicing once a week for each riding event. Also, before each rodeo, Zane asked his father for a father’s blessing. Zane says, “I feel that these blessings kept me from getting injured on many occasions; and when I was injured, I recovered remarkably fast.”
Zane adds that obeying the Word of Wisdom has been a great blessing in his life. “Other cowboys who drink and take drugs may be good for a very short time, but they never last long,” he says.
Another reason Zane has done so well is that he has learned to face challenges. At one rodeo, he had to ride a bull that had thrown off all the college-age riders who had tried to ride it. But Zane, only thirteen years old, got on the bull and rode him in three out of five attempts. “I don’t remember ever being really frightened at a rodeo,” said Zane. “A little fear is always good for you, but too much fear is not good. If you have a little fear, you plan better. If you have too much fear, you may get out of control.”
One of the hardest decisions Zane ever had to face was whether or not to go on a mission. Colleges all over the United States were recruiting him. Although he had always planned on a mission, the final decision was really hard. “But I decided I had to go on a mission to try to pay the Lord back for some of the many blessings I have received,” he said.
Zane wrote home from his mission and said, “I’ve learned many things. I’ve changed a lot. I thought riding three times at each rodeo all summer long was tough, but it wasn’t anything as tough as serving a mission; nevertheless, it has been good for me.”
In his life, Zane has ridden a thousand wild horses and roped a thousand calves. Rodeo became easy to him. But perhaps the best thing about the sport was the chance to be with his father—who was always there, watching him, helping him stay safe.
Zane’s mission in Brazil was not easy. He underwent the shock of learning a new language and living in a different culture. But Zane improved daily. And on his mission he learned firsthand that his Father in Heaven is always there, watching him, helping him stay safe.

One young woman found that being humble helped her in her relationship with her brother.
“As I was sitting there listening to President Hinckley, I was sitting by my mom and by my brother, who was preparing for a mission at the time. I heard President Hinckley tell the youth to be humble.
“We have never had a great relationship, my brother and me. We never got along because we let things get in the way—friends, age, school, and our actions. We never cared; we thought we were better than each other. We literally went days without talking or saying something nice to each other. So, after I heard President Hinckley, I made a promise that I would always bite my tongue, say nice things to him, and do nice things for him. For the next little while I did everything I could for him. Then it rubbed off, and he was nice to me; and now we are the closest ever.”

I never used to find time to read the scriptures daily, especially with waking up early to go to school and long hours of homework. The only times I read were at Sunday School, in Young Women class, and a couple of times a week for family scripture study. Despite all the promised blessings of daily scripture reading, I always put off my personal study. That is, until my cousin came to visit.
My cousin, a student at Brigham Young University–Idaho, was my roommate at our home while she worked at a Church ranch in Florida. Every night she would pray and read her scriptures and, since the light was on anyway, I would join her. Gradually, I developed the habit also, and when she went back to Idaho, I continued personal scripture study on my own.
I know there is a lot more I need to read and understand, but daily reading has truly blessed me. The scriptures have come to life for me, especially in Nephi, Mosiah, and Alma. Whenever I begin to murmur and complain, I can look back to what I have learned in the scriptures and make changes in my life.
It is fun to find the stories I learned when I was in Primary and read the complete versions from the sacred records of God’s prophets. I am so thankful for the example my cousin set by studying the scriptures daily. I know scripture study has helped and will continue to help me throughout my life.

In high school I tried rowing. It sounded easy enough—sit in a boat and move the oar blades to go fast on the water. I had no idea what I was in for.
For a while, I couldn’t keep the boat balanced, and my use of the oars caused me to stop instead of sail smoothly on the water.
Over time, I changed how I balanced the boat and handled the oars. I slowly made other changes and improved—often without realizing. Then rowing became fun! I loved the soothing motion of rowing as I glided quickly and quietly across the water.
I had to make changes if I wanted to get better at rowing. Only then could I experience the joy rowing offers.

I remember seeing pictures of the temple from the time I was very small. Though too young to understand the blessings of the temple, I knew I wanted to go there someday. In Young Women, I started to understand the blessings that would come from the temple. At that time my family was less active, and I prayed each day that we could be sealed as an eternal family.
In the fall of 1993, two weeks before I turned 18, my family did go to the temple. I remember the feeling I had in the Provo Utah Temple, becoming an eternal family with my parents and siblings. As I left the temple that day, I thought I understood the blessings it brought me.

Illustration by Trent Gudmundsen
We all experience ups and downs in life, but 2013 was a particularly difficult year for our family. We experienced many unexpected and costly home and auto repairs. My husband, Ryan, lost his job, and our youngest son was born with complications and had to spend a few weeks in the neonatal intensive care unit. I also struggled with postpartum depression. These circumstances, combined with being parents of four young children, strained us financially and emotionally.
Ryan found new employment, but he worked long hours and was out of town for weeks at a time. Our five-year-old son, Wesley, began having anxiety about his dad being gone so often. He constantly woke up during the night from nightmares.
Our extended family supported me when they could, but I still felt exhausted and alone most of the time. I knew that Heavenly Father loved and was aware of my family, but I felt like we were drowning.
One afternoon, while Ryan was out of town for work, I drove my kids home from school and desperately prayed for help. Later that night, my neighbor Kendra knocked on our door. She knew about our situation and asked how I was doing. I had no intention of complaining to her, and she was the last person I would have asked for help. Her husband, Brent, had been battling cancer for the past four years.
I told Kendra I was fine, but she sincerely asked again. Tearfully, I opened up to her about my struggles. When I told her about Wesley’s anxiety and nightmares, she asked if I would like Brent to give Wesley a blessing.
A while later, Kendra, Brent, and their oldest son, Tyson, came to our door dressed in church clothes. Brent was frail. I’m sure it took all the energy he had to come to our house. He gave Wesley a blessing, and Tyson gave me a blessing.
That day, Kendra, Brent, and Tyson were true examples of Christlike ministering. They set aside their own trials to sincerely offer us love and compassion. I felt blessed that Heavenly Father answered my prayer in this tender way. Brent died two weeks later.
That day in our home, Brent stood as a witness of God through righteously exercising the priesthood (see Mosiah 18:9). To me, it is sacred that his ministering to our family was one of his last acts on earth.

Kristin Campbell of Salt Lake City had no idea she was preparing herself for a lifetime of service when she decided to take a sign language class for her Laurel project. She just wanted to learn for her own enjoyment. But as she practiced with deaf students she began to feel a change of heart.

“For some deaf people, our hearing world is like a different planet where no one speaks their language,” Kristin says. “Working with them, my heart changed from selfishness to really wanting to be able to communicate with others.”

“When I said hi to a deaf student in the hall through sign language for the first time, he got really excited! He started signing fast!” says Kristin. “The look on Bryan’s face was worth any sacrifice. I could tell it helped his self-esteem to know that a hearing person would care enough to learn how to communicate with him.”

Kristin had previously been afraid of Bryan because he attended special classes and sat with an interpreter at lunch. But once she learned how to communicate with him, they developed a unique friendship.

They talked about classes and school. “It’s really hard to communicate names so I never did get his last name,” said Kristin. “We did have Jesus in common, though.”

Gabe King, 15, of Jeffersonville, Indiana, wasn’t exactly looking for a service project. But when he found out about his neighbor’s misfortune, he couldn’t help but act.

While working in his orchard, the neighbor fell out of a tree. He was hurt badly enough that picking the apples himself was impossible. If the apples weren’t picked, he wouldn’t be able to make a living. Gabe organized a group of about ten young women and men to join him in an apple-picking party. They chose a cool day in October and picked all day long to bring in the man’s crop.

“He was very grateful and really happy,” Gabe explains. “He would have lost a lot of money had we not picked his apples. It was a great feeling to know how much it meant to him.”

If you saw Deborah Freeman of Silver Spring, Maryland, your first reaction might be to try to help her. Deborah is orthopedically disabled, and her mobility is limited to a motorized cart. But with a little help, Deborah joins right in to serve others.

For a youth conference service project, Deborah’s stake picked strawberries on the Church-owned Johnson Farm near Kirtland, Ohio. As everyone disappeared into the fields for the all-day project, Deborah was right there with everyone until dirt paths grew too rough and her cart began to stick in the mud.

Fortunately, Ben Tibbets, a high school senior, and Aaron Hill, the youth chairman of the conference, saw the problem and immediately began figuring out ways they could help.

“We surprised her by pushing and lifting her motorized cart through the rough spots so she could help too,” says Ben.

“They put the bucket in my basket and threw the strawberries in it,” says Deborah. “They kept joking around. It was fun!”

Deborah wasn’t the only happy one either. “Service is one of the most fun things we have to do,” says Aaron. “It’s something you can actually do to show love for others and a love for Christ.”

Nathan Skene of Salt Lake City didn’t always know how happy service could make him. The summer after graduation from high school, Nathan really didn’t want to go to youth conference. He would be the oldest there. All his friends were gone, and it didn’t look like it was going to be that much fun. But he went anyway.

The theme for the youth conference was MASH—Modern Army Serving Heaven. His “platoon” was chosen to spend time with a group of mentally handicapped students. The students chose a partner; then each pair took a walk together.

“Terry chose me,” Nathan explains. “Being close to him and seeing what kind of spirit he had opened my eyes to how much I love people and how much I enjoy serving others.”

Nathan’s bad attitude dissolved. And now he sees things a little differently. “My most important goal is to gain a Christlike love for everyone,” he says.

So even though there are hungry children in the world today and homeless people on the streets, don’t get discouraged about helping. Just decide what you can do—and then act. You can make a difference. And even better than that, “when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God” (Mosiah 2:17).

When 14-year-old Ken Welty of Centerville, Utah, learned that people in Africa needed food desperately, he decided to raise money for seeds to send to Africa.

First, Ken handed out fliers explaining what he was doing and which seeds needed to be purchased. After checking with seed companies about growing requirements, Ken assembled and sent seed packets for tomatoes, cucumbers, green beans, corn, and other foods to contacts in Mali and Botswana.

The project was a real eye-opener for Ken. “My mom and dad have jobs, and they bring home the food for us to eat,” Ken explains. “It was weird to think that there are people over in Africa who are a lot older than me, but because of my service project I am helping them feed themselves.”

For some kids one night a week of Mutual is enough, but not for Claudine Miller of Sandy, Utah. Besides going to her own Mutual night on Wednesday, Claudine also volunteered to help with her region’s handicapped Mutual every Thursday night.

One of Claudine’s most memorable times with the girls was on “Cinderella Night,” she says. The Mutual girls dressed up in fancy dresses and learned how to put on makeup and fingernail polish. “It really helped them feel pretty,” says Claudine.

Another great experience came when Claudine helped the handicapped Mutual do baptisms for the dead in the Jordan River Temple. “It was really neat,” she said. “The Spirit was so strong!”

Her service project ended up lasting two years, but the time flew by for Claudine. “It made my testimony grow so much to feel their spirit and hear them say thank you and express their love for me,” she says. “When I serve I feel like I’m doing it for Christ, and it makes me feel really good.”

Shannon Welty of Centerville, Utah, is saving the lives of African children—with puppets.

“When little children get sick with diarrhea and vomiting, the parents don’t know it’s dangerous to restrict water,” Shannon explains. “Because their children are discharging liquid they think they have had too much moisture, so they stop giving them food and water. The children end up dying from dehydration.”

Instead of waiting for some international committee to help, Shannon organized a service project to teach African villagers how to treat sick children. She persuaded people in her hometown to donate materials, enlisted elementary school students as volunteers, and spent many hours preparing 13 puppet kits.

The puppets will be used to tell a story about a little boy who is sick with dehydration and how to treat him. Contacts in Mali, Botswana, Zimbabwe, and Burkina Faso will receive and translate the kits.

“I couldn’t have imagined I’d be saving lives by making puppets,” Shannon says. “People were asking how I felt saving someone’s life and that’s when it hit me. Service is really Christlike because he saved everyone.”

Not long ago several of us in the Nash family hiked to the top of Huayna Picchu, a tall peak adjoining the ancient Incan ruins of Machu Picchu in the mountains of Peru. It is a very steep climb with breathtaking views and precipitous drop-offs. Sadly, some hikers have lost their lives by falling off that narrow, steep trail. To avoid such tragedies, strong cables have since been secured to the solid rock along the mountainside of Huayna Picchu. We held to those cables as we climbed, and they enabled us to safely reach the summit, where the view was majestic!

A ragged, ten-year-old Navajo boy—fresh off the reservation, unexposed to the world, living in a Mormon foster home in the Church‘s Indian Placement Program—would never have succeeded had he compared himself to his Anglo friends, who were far more educated, advanced, and prepared than he was. He did not start school until he was eight years of age, and then was quickly advanced three or four grades because he was behind in his grade and was over age. He had a poor command of the English language. His parents were illiterate. He was from a large family. He was raised on desert animals and mutton stew. He seldom had a decent bath for lack of water. He was raised on a dirt floor in a small one-room Hogan without modern conveniences and luxuries. He succeeded educationally, socially, and spiritually because he was his own competitor and because he set out to develop a high opinion of himself and to develop a more positive mind.

The early pioneers understood the necessary combination of humbling themselves, listening intently to God’s will, doing all they could to follow it, and then allowing their Heavenly Father to support them in facing almost unthinkable challenges. Because of their deep trust that they were players in a glorious cause, they were able to face hardships with hearts that were thankful to a Father who would invite them to be a part of his plan. In Susan Arrington Madsen’s book Christmas—A Joyful Heritage, recollections of the earliest days in the Salt Lake Valley are shared by some of the Saints who were there.

One example given by Sister Madsen is of a particularly memorable Christmas recorded by Mary Jane Perkins Wilson:
It was here at “Hole in The Rock” that we spent our first Christmas holidays. We children had no place only on the wagon wheels to hang our stockings. Nevertheless old St. Nicholas visited us with parched corn and some cookies that were baked in the dutch ovens. However everybody was happy. We spent most of the day gathering sagebrush to build fires at night to dance by. It was not of course on waxed floors, nor wearing various colored pumps, but it was on the sand rocks and some were barefooted. Brother Charles E. Walton was the orchestra. Sometimes he played the violin and other times the cornet. [In Susan Arrington Madsen, Christmas—A Joyful Heritage (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1984), p. 6]

It is refreshing to think of a time when people could experience great joy with only parched corn, a sagebrush fire, and an orchestra consisting of one man.

I would like to share with you a “But if not” moment in my life.
In early 2002, my husband and I were living in Rexburg. He was teaching junior high school, I was working here at the University, and we had four young children ages 12 to 2 years old. During this time, Dave was having some health issues. After discussing with medical professionals, our parents, and counseling with each other, we decided to move forward, and Dave was going to have laparoscopic surgery that was to help with the health issues he was experiencing. So in mid-July, we drove to Jackson, Wyoming, for the surgery the next day. That evening, we had a wonderful time by ourselves going to a movie and getting dinner.
The next day, the surgery went as planned. As Dave came out of the anesthesia, he was in a significant amount of pain. So we worked with the doctors and other medical providers to address the pain. By the next morning, the pain was still unbearable for him. The physician ordered tests and scans to try to determine why this was happening. The tests came back without any information as to why he was in so much pain. We were told that Dave needed to have another surgery to determine what was wrong. This time it would be more invasive and not completed laparoscopically. My parents came to support us during this time while Dave’s parents watched our children. Dave and I were both given priesthood blessings before his surgery.
I was so relieved that we were on a path forward to determine what was wrong and that he would be out of pain. As I waited for him while he was in recovery, a nurse I had talked with previously had told me that everything went well and the surgeon was very thorough. With this good news, my parents returned to Rexburg. So on that beautiful July day, I was filled with hope. I waited in his hospital room while he was in the recovery room. I was told it would not be long when he would be joining me. I waited and waited.
Eventually, a nurse came to me where I was waiting and asked me to go with her to speak with the doctor. He informed me that during the surgery he searched for anything that would be an indication of what would be causing the pain. He checked the sutures and looked for infection. He could not find anything wrong. He then proceeded to tell me Dave was unresponsive to their attempts of bringing him out of the anesthesia and they were going to transfer him from the recovery room to the intensive care unit. He asked if I would wait a bit longer as they continued to treat him. As the doctor went to the ICU, I slumped against the hallway wall and slid to the floor in tears. I have never felt so alone.
As I sat on the floor sobbing, I thought to myself that “I can’t do this.” Dave was always first in my life. We had known each other since high school and have always been together. I was later allowed to be in the ICU room with Dave while the doctors and nurses worked on him. At this point, his heart rate was a steady 160 beats per minute, his blood pressure was dropping, and his temperature was rising. This wise doctor informed me that the best thing he could do was to have Dave transferred to another hospital with a trauma unit. He did not think Dave would make it through the night if he continued to treat him.
After the initial shock of his statement, I felt I needed to find a quiet place to pray to my Heavenly Father. I recalled there was a small individual restroom in one of the hallways in the hospital that I had walked by many times. Once I was there, I knelt down on the cold tile, and through many tears I poured my heart out to my Heavenly Father. I told Him I couldn’t do it, and then cried some more. I finally asked for peace. I needed to know I wasn’t alone. I needed to know all would be okay. I asked my Heavenly Father to take this hard moment away from me—but if not, please grant me peace. At that moment, my anxiety left and I knew that I needed my Savior to be first in my life and that all would be okay. This was my “But if not” moment during this time. I left that restroom not knowing what “okay” would mean. Again, I was in tears. I kept thinking, “But if not, I know my Savior loves me and that I was not alone.”
There were many more “But if not” moments for me during the next two weeks. Dave was life-flighted to another hospital. He remained in a medically induced coma for several days. During this time, the doctors could not give me a positive prognosis for him. Over time and after many uncertain nights sitting in his hospital room, his health did improve. He remained in the hospital for over two weeks until we were able to go home.

I was born and raised on my father’s cattle ranch in Roy, Utah, with very few neighbors nearby. I was the youngest of six children, and as a boy I was shy around people who were not in my family. On my first day at school, my brother Lowell, just two years older than I, took me to my first-grade classroom. Surrounded by children I did not know, I felt lonesome and the day seemed long until I could return home with my brother.
Soon I made friends at school and looked forward to seeing them each day. One friend, Larry Dawson, lived about a mile from my home. Larry invited me to his house for a birthday party. I had never been to a birthday party before. It was so much fun! I still remember some of the special toys Larry received—especially his new toy fire engine.
Larry and I rode the bus to school because we lived too far from school to walk. Larry got off the bus at the bus stop on the main highway just before I got off. He then had to cross the highway and walk half a mile (about 1 km) to his home. At that time cars did not stop when a school bus was loading or unloading students.
One day as we were returning home from school, a car speeding by the bus hit and killed my friend. I felt very sad. I missed being with Larry at school and on the bus. My mother and father comforted me by explaining that even though I wouldn’t see Larry anymore in this life, his spirit continued to live in the spirit world. Larry was so kind and good that I knew he would be worthy to live with our Heavenly Father. As I grew, I learned more about our Father’s plan for His children.
My brother Darrell, who was five years older than I, was a special friend to me. Darrell let me ride on his bike with him from our home on the ranch to the barn where he often worked. I rode the bike back to the house, then returned to the barn at the end of the day to accompany him on his ride home. I loved Darrell very much.
One day Darrell was coming home in our family car from driving my sister to her piano lesson. He stopped at the railroad tracks to wait while a long freight train passed. He did not see another train coming from the other direction. When Darrell started over the tracks, the train struck the car and my brother was killed. I was sweeping our driveway when my father pulled up in his pickup truck shortly after it happened, and I still remember the sadness we felt when he told my mother and our family of the accident.
President David O. McKay and Elder Spencer W. Kimball came to speak at my brother’s funeral. President McKay, then President of the Church, was related to my father. Elder Kimball, who later became President of the Church, had recently visited our stake conference and had stayed in our home because my father was the stake president. President McKay and Elder Kimball taught us about our Heavenly Father’s plan and said that we would be together again as a family. They said that we should not be afraid of death, and they taught us about the resurrection. They promised that my brother would live again and that our family could live together for the one thousand years of peace called the Millennium.
I was grateful to know that my friend Larry and my brother Darrell had kept the commandments so they could enjoy every blessing from our Heavenly Father. We do not know when we are going to die, so we should live every day so we will not be sorry if our time comes to return home. We need to speak in kind ways to our brothers and sisters and friends. We should not argue or treat others unkindly. We should follow the example of Jesus Christ. One of my favorite Primary songs reminds me of the things we need to do.
I’m trying to be like Jesus; I’m following in his ways.
I’m trying to love as he did, in all that I do and say.
At times I am tempted to make a wrong choice,
But I try to listen as the still small voice whispers,
“Love one another as Jesus loves you.
Try to show kindness in all that you do.
Be gentle and loving in deed and in thought,
For these are the things Jesus taught.”
(Children’s Songbook, 78–79)
When we keep all of our Heavenly Father’s commandments, we will be happy now and in the life to come. It also takes away our fear of dying because we know that if we are good, we will one day go home to live with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ forever.

In the time before mission presidents and their wives begin their mission assignments a lot of spiritual and temporal preparation takes place. Mission presidents are generally called more than six months in advance, but occasionally that preparation time is compressed. Brent and Anne Scott of Eden, Utah, USA, were called to supervise the Canada Toronto Mission just a week before the mission presidents’ seminar and two months before they were to begin their service.
Between telling friends and family and trying to make arrangements for their home, they studied manuals, listened to CDs, and made other spiritual preparations. But they said their greatest preparation was the seminar at the MTC.
“It’s just a spiritual immersion of knowledge,” President Scott said. “To be with a group of people who have [sacrificed to serve the Lord] and to be taught by prophets, seers, and revelators … has absolutely been one of the greatest experiences of our lives.”
Over the four-day seminar in June, mission presidents and their wives were spiritually fed with messages from the First Presidency and several members of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
“As we listened to them, as they taught us, [we felt] that the Lord was there, that He cares, that this is His work, that these are His servants, and that we have the privilege of going out and representing our Savior,” Sister Scott said.

In various parts of the world, obtaining a computer and Internet access presents a challenge for some who are eager to index. This is the situation leaders in the Mexico City Zarahemla Stake faced when they decided to get the youth involved in indexing. Because not all of the youth had computers in their homes, stake leaders decided to reserve a local school’s computer labs after hours for them to use.
The youth then worked to index Mexican census records from 1930. “As the youth reviewed the documents,” says Bishop Darío Zapata Vivas, “they imagined people moving from house to house collecting all this information without knowing that someday their efforts would assist the Lord’s work of bringing ‘to pass the immortality and eternal life of man’” (Moses 1:39).
Through the creative efforts of the stake leaders to obtain the needed technology, the youth and other members of the stake were able to index over 300,000 records within one month.

The last child we have is named Benjamin. When he was young, we had a family tradition on the day after Thanksgiving. We would load all of our bikes in the back of the truck, get everyone into the minivan, and then drive up to a mountain trail near the San Gabriel River in Southern California. We would go on a bike ride there and then have a picnic at a park at the end. We did this every year.

When Benjamin was three or four, we piled out of our van, got our bikes out of the truck, put our helmets on, got on our bikes, and just started riding—everybody knew the drill. Benjamin was the second to last to get on his bike, and I was the last. When Benjamin got on his bike, he immediately swerved terribly to the left, overcorrected all the way to the right, and then fell on the ground.

I called out to everybody to stop, and then I asked, “Didn’t anyone teach Benjamin how to ride a bike?”

None of us had! I looked at Natalie; she looked at Taylor and then me—I guess it was my job. The funniest thing was that Benjamin didn’t even know that he needed someone to teach him. He just saw everybody get on their bike and go, so he did too!

So I did what dads do: I held the back of the bike seat steady and ran alongside him. Then after about ten yards I launched him, knowing there would be enough angular momentum to keep him vertical. And shazam! He learned how to ride a bike. Sink or swim, I guess. That’s what happens sometimes to the youngest.

Benjamin, I love you. The worth of your soul is so, so great in the sight of God, me, and your mother (see Doctrine and Covenants 18:10).

“Oh no, not again,” I thought, as I saw the familiar face walking toward me in the hallway of my college dorm. “What this time?”
Angela [names have been changed] had accosted me in the hallway before, and each time I talked to her she left my stomach tied up in knots. I had been investigating The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for a month, and Angela had taken it upon herself to prove that I was making a big mistake.
Angela invited me to her dorm room for a talk, and I accepted warily, knowing from past experience that she would not leave me alone until I’d heard what she had to say.
“How are you feeling about the Mormons at this point?” she asked me, as I sat on her bed, folding my arms defensively.
“Fine. Actually I think what they believe is quite beautiful. I haven’t decided if I believe it yet …”
“Beautiful?” Angela choked on the word, her face turning red. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you go on. Not after what I’ve found out about the Mormon religion.”
She handed me a pamphlet filled with lies and twisted truths about the Church. “Read this,” she confided, “and you’ll never want to talk to those missionaries again.”
I read it and the other things well-meaning people gave me to try to show me “the truth” about the Church. I always ended up feeling confused and sick to my stomach. How could I ever know what was right? The missionaries seemed so peaceful about what they believed. Yet Angela was convinced they were wrong. How could I find my own testimony of what was true? And why did there seem to be silence from the heavens when I prayed about my questions?
Ten years later, I sat in an LDS chapel looking at a young woman in my ward. She sat next to me, her hands folded in her lap and tears streaming down her face, asking me the same questions I had asked 10 years before. How could she know for sure if the things she had been taught were true? Why hadn’t she received any spiritual confirmations or found answers to her many questions about the Church?
This young woman had a boyfriend who had been trying to convince her the Church wasn’t true. He had been telling her the same things about the Church that had confused me so long ago.
I decided to write her a letter, telling her about a prophet who faced a similar situation. During the time of Alma the Younger, Korihor, an anti-Christ, came among the Nephites telling them Christ would not come and that their beliefs were false. Eventually, Korihor was brought before Alma, and he told Alma he would believe in God only if Alma showed him a sign. In answer to his request, Korihor was struck dumb, and he finally admitted that he had been deceived and had always known there was a God. (See Alma 30.)
Both Alma and Korihor knew the words of the prophets, but Alma acted on those words and obeyed the commandments. Alma knew that blessings come from following the ways of the Lord. (See Alma 32:21–43.)
Korihor refused to act on the word of the Lord and wanted to see a sign before he would believe and act. Alma believed first, acted upon that belief, and then received a confirmation of the truth.
We can have an unshakable testimony like Alma’s by following his example. Then we can stand before people and testify of the truths of God, and no clever words or temptations will convince us to deny what we know is true.
I believed the missionaries instead of the clever words of those who opposed the Church. Then I acted upon that belief. I was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When I rose up out of the waters of baptism, a warm feeling of peace enveloped me. I knew the Holy Ghost was telling me that what I was doing was good. I had found the truth. Even though I faced much opposition from my parents and friends, I was able to stand strong because of the testimony I had received from obeying the commandments of God.
When we ask in faith, we will receive answers from the Lord as we experiment upon His words. Testimonies do not come from seeing signs, as Korihor believed. They come from doing and obeying.
Pray regularly and sincerely about your questions.
It may help to write your questions in a journal. When you receive answers, write them down so you can remember and read them often. You will begin to see the hand of God in all things, just as Alma did (see Alma 30:44).
Live the gospel and keep the commandments. Attend your meetings, activities, seminary classes, and service projects. Stay away from things that take away the Spirit.
Regularly study the scriptures and the teachings of latter-day prophets, because you can’t have a testimony of something you don’t know anything about.

Kim wanted to write that she and her father went to the library and discussed the books that they chose. She wanted to write that no matter how busy he was, her father always stopped to answer her questions, that he always kissed her good night and gave her a big hug.

Instead, Kim wrote the truth. She put down sentence after sentence about how lovingly her father cared for his crops, how his tenderness brought calves into the world, how often he had saved kittens from starvation. She told how he had grieved when disease took half the chickens and a hailstorm destroyed most of the oats. She didn’t write about how she hoped that someday she would know that he loved her too.

Kim and her father made a lovely couple the night of the Daddy-Daughter dinner. Kim wore her favorite orange dress with the lace trim, and her father looked ruggedly handsome in his brown suit.

During the dinner Kim’s father leaned toward her. “Pretty good supper. Not nearly as good as Mother makes, but pretty good.”

As they finished their orange sherbet, the Primary president stood to announce that Kim would now give a talk about her father. Kim’s heart fluttered as she spoke into the microphone.

When she had finished, the Primary president introduced Kim’s father and invited him to speak.

“I’m not used to talking much,” Kim’s father began, “except to my cows. But I would like to say that I’m proud of my daughter. I don’t tell her that often, though. You see, I was raised in a very strict home. My mother died when I was younger than Kim, and though my father was a wonderful man, he believed that showing affection made you weak. I don’t remember that he ever hugged me in his life. I guess that’s why I feel awkward about showing affection to Kim. But I’d like to tell a little story that I hope will show that I do love her.

“Kim was born in the dead of winter, and she caught pneumonia when she was only two months old. I tried to do the household chores because her mother had to care for her constantly. One night it was particularly hard for her to breathe. I took my little girl in my arms and blessed her and prayed for her … as hard as I’ve ever prayed for anything. Then, because her mother was totally exhausted, I sat in the rocker next to the stove and put my baby on her stomach across my lap and rocked her all that night. The doctor came the next morning and said that my rocking her in that position had given Kim’s little lungs a good night’s rest and that he thought that she was going to pull through. So you see, my little girl is very special to me—she always has been, and she always will be.”

Kim’s eyes were full of tears. She wondered why she had never heard about that night before. Running to her father, she hugged him long and hard. When he put his arms around her and hugged her back, Kim felt that her heart was about to burst with joy.

The Second Coming, by Harry Anderson
I came to the temple one day with a question on my heart: “Heavenly Father, how am I doing in the gospel?”
My shortcomings had felt especially prevalent that week. Like Nephi, I felt burdened by the sins that so easily beset me. But, also like Nephi, I knew in whom I had trusted. (See 2 Nephi 4:18–19.) I hoped spending time with the Lord in His house that morning would help close the distance I was feeling.
I listened carefully through the endowment session and felt grateful for the strength and knowledge it offered me. But as I entered the celestial room, my heart still felt heavy. How could I know where I stood with the Lord?
I sat and pondered for a few minutes and then, feeling resigned, began to stand up. But something pulled me back down, sinking me deeper into the couch. “I don’t want to leave,” I thought.
I looked around the room and saw a familiar painting of Jesus Christ surrounded by angels, with His arms opened toward me. The words of a favorite scripture came to my mind: “My soul did long to be there” (see Alma 36:22).
I have often pondered the significance of that verse in Alma’s story. Previously, because of his sins, the thought of standing before God filled Alma with “inexpressible horror” (Alma 36:14). But after turning to Christ, he saw God surrounded by angels, and his “soul did long to be there.” This scriptural contrast has always struck me as beautiful. Alma’s small effort to look to the Lord had a huge effect on his heart.
I realized I didn’t feel ready to leave the celestial room because, like Alma, my soul longed to be there—both in the temple that day and ultimately with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ in my heavenly home. The Holy Ghost used my favorite scripture story to tell me God knew my heart. I was reminded that despite my shortcomings, the Lord accepted my efforts to be close to Him. He knew I longed to be there.