Gospel Story Finder

After Grandma and Seth finished their waffles, she told him a story. “When Grandpa and I started thinking about going on a mission, I was concerned about you. I prayed that Heavenly Father would help you to understand our feelings. Then at general conference, Elder Robert D. Hales said if we serve a mission, our families will be blessed.
“Grandpa and I want those blessings for you, Seth. We also want to show you that it’s important to follow the prophet. We want you to share this special time with us and be happy.”

The key to having a nice test in the waiting is to be an active waiter instead of passively enduring. Active waiting invites cheer; passive waiting is gloom and doom. We are active waiters when we do the things Christ did, even in the most trying moments. The early Saints, at the end of their time in Nauvoo, found themselves once again waiting and wondering when they would live in Zion, when they would actually get to not only finish building a house of the Lord, but also worship in it regularly.

The sisters of Nauvoo were active waiters as they packed only a few of their belongings, did a final sweep of their floors, closed their doors, and headed west. [21] They swept the floors!? They knew their homes would be overrun by mobs taking advantage of their hard work, yet they paused to sweep the floors. The early Saints are a marvel to me, especially when I think that I live five minutes from what will soon be two of the Lord’s houses—on the same street. The early Saints set an example of active waiting. What is the Spirit prompting you to do in your waiting?

Sarita loved her new school. I’m probably the happiest second grader in the whole town, she thought.
Next to Sarita sat Amelia. Sarita thought Amelia was very pretty. Instead of having brown hair and eyes, Amelia had long blond curls and beautiful blue eyes. Jed sat on the other side of Sarita. He had red hair. She was staring at him, trying to count his freckles, when Mrs. Wells said, “Good morning, class. Welcome to the first day of school.”
The first day of school was even more exciting than Sarita had imagined it would be. She fit in just fine. She’d been a little worried because she and Mamacita had been living in Sanford only a few weeks. Mamacita had found a good job here, and as she said, the Lord was opening new doors for them.
“I’m sending a note home with each of you,” Mrs. Wells said at the end of the day. “If your mother would like to be a room volunteer, please have her sign and return the paper.”
“My mother was a room volunteer last year,” Amelia said on the way home.
“Mine, too,” said Jed.
Sarita liked her new house. It was smaller than her old home in Texas, but it was still nice. She loved the new curtains with red and yellow flowers and the cozy, red homemade throw rugs that Mamacita had made. “What do you think?” Mamacita had asked. She always asked Sarita’s opinion, and that made Sarita feel special. You see, when Sarita was a small baby, she had been adopted by Mamacita and Papacito.
Sarita had been only four years old when Papacito died, and sometimes when she tried to remember him, she could not bring his smiling face to her mind. Today was a sometimes, so she went into the living room and looked at the family photograph. Then she felt Mamacita’s arm about her shoulder.
“Always remember that we are sealed for time and all eternity,” Mamacita said. “And that we have the Lord’s promise that if we are righteous and endure to the end, we will be together again.”
The next morning Sarita was up early. She made their lunches while Mamacita prepared breakfast, and while they ate, Sarita read a story aloud in Spanish. Mamacita said, “Sarita, you must be the best reader in this state. How talented you are to be able to read both English and Spanish when you are only seven years old.”
Sarita took out the paper that Mrs. Wells had given her the afternoon before. “Will you be a room volunteer?”
“I’d love to,” Mamacita said.
Jed, Amelia, and Sarita handed in the papers with their mothers’ signatures. “There will be a meeting for your mothers tomorrow night at seven o’clock here in the classroom,” Mrs. Wells told them.
After school, the three children waited for their mothers. Jed’s mother arrived first. She had red hair like Jed. She was tall and slender and the prettiest lady Sarita thought she’d ever seen.
Her own mother came next. She waved good-bye to Amelia and got quickly into the car.
The next day things did not go well at school. Amelia brought the first dark clouds when she asked Sarita why her mother was so old. “She’s only fifty,” Sarita said. “That’s not old.”
“My mom is twenty-nine,” Jed said.
“She has gray hair,” Amelia said. “And she’s sort of … well …”
“Fat,” Jed said.
Sarita was horrified. She knew that Mamacita was plump, but she’d never thought of her as fat—or old.
That afternoon Sarita slumped in the seat of the car and looked down at her hands, pretending to be busy so that she wouldn’t have to talk.
“I’m really looking forward to meeting your teacher and your friends and their mothers tonight,” Mamacita said.
“Oh,” Sarita said, “we might not be able to go. I think I might be getting sick.”
“What?” her mother said, wrinkling her forehead with concern.
She looked especially old to Sarita just then, so she closed her eyes tight. “I might be getting a headache.”
Sarita was slow getting dressed that evening. The other mothers would be young and beautiful, and that would make her mother look even older and more wrinkled. “Let’s not go, Mamacita,” she said.
“Sarita, do you really not feel well?”
Sarita tried very hard to feel sick. But she felt fine. Sarita couldn’t lie to her mother. She knew Heavenly Father would not be pleased with her if she lied. “I want to move back home,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “I don’t like it here anymore!”
“Why, you’re homesick,” her mother said, pulling her close. “Bless your little heart, you’re homesick.”
Even though Sarita tried to take forever braiding her hair and putting on her shoes, they were not even late for the meeting. Her mother walked into the room proudly, as if she were as young and beautiful as the other mothers there.
They sat down next to Amelia. “There’s my mom,” Amelia said, but she did not seem very happy.
“Amelia!” Her mother came over and sat down. “Why couldn’t you have waited for me? I don’t know why you have to aggravate me so much. When your father gets home from this business trip, …”
“Hello.” Mamacita smiled. “I’m Sarita’s mother.”
“Her mother? Why I thought you were her—” She stopped abruptly, turning red. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I’m really happy to meet you. It’s just that my husband has been out of town all week on business, and nothing seems to be going right for me.”
“It must be very difficult,” Mamacita said.
“It is. I own a little dress shop at the mall, and I need to be there. But I had to come to this meeting tonight. Amelia has nagged me about it for two days.”
Jed and his mother walked over and sat down just as Mrs. Wells opened the meeting. After welcoming them, she introduced everyone in the room. Sarita was embarrassed when her mother’s name was called. She stood up and said hello to the others just as if she did not know that she was old and gray. And fat. Sarita looked at Jed’s mother, at the lovely green dress that was exactly the color of her eyes. Then she looked at Amelia’s mother, at her silky beige dress and high heeled shoes. She looked at her mother’s shoes—comfortable work shoes, low heeled and scuffed on one toe.
Mamacita’s dress was plain cotton and homemade. She had let Sarita do the stitching on the button holes, and the sewing that she had once been so proud of embarrassed her now because the stitches were crooked and uneven.
After the short meeting, the three mothers talked together.
“I don’t know how you manage a job and taking care of a second grader by yourself at your age,” Amelia’s mother said. “Amelia and her sister keep me worn out.”
“Sarita and I take care of each other,” Mamacita said. “She brings me great joy.”
“Joy?” Jed’s mother said. “Chaos is more like it at our house.”
“And Amelia gets into everything,” her mother put in. “Yesterday she played with my makeup and ruined my eyeliner!”
Sarita thought of the many happy hours she spent putting on Mamacita’s makeup. Mamacita almost never wore makeup anymore, but she never got angry when Sarita played dress-up with it.
“I love Jed dearly, but he broke my best lamp when he kicked his soccer ball in the house,” his mother said. “It was an expensive antique. I wish he’d learn to play outside.”
Sarita remembered the lovely china dish she’d accidentally dropped. It had broken into so many little pieces that Mamacita had not been able to glue it together again. But Mamacita had not been angry about that, either.
“He and his brother and sister make too much noise in the house,” Jed’s mother went on. “As soon as I get on the phone with a client, they have to interrupt me.”
Sarita thought of all the noise she made at home, especially when she played her Primary tapes loudly and pretended to direct the music. Sometimes Mamacita came to her door and said, “I think that one day you will direct the Tabernacle Choir.”
“It must be difficult,” Amelia’s mother said to Mamacita, “worrying about Sarita all the time. It’s hard enough keeping up at my age.”
“Sarita doesn’t worry me,” Mamacita said. “She is my best friend. In fact,”—she winked at Sarita—“Saturday we are going to St. Augustine to see this country’s oldest city.”
“There’s no way I’d spend an entire Saturday chasing a seven-year-old around St. Augustine,” Jed’s mother said. Amelia’s mother agreed.
“Wow! St. Augustine!” Jed said. “I want to see the old fort there.”
“And Ripley’s Believe It or Not! museum,” said Amelia.
“Mamacita, could they … Amelia and Jed … go to St. Augustine with us?”
“I’d love to take them,” Mamacita said, “if it’s all right with their mothers.”
Jed’s mother smiled and put her arm around Mamacita’s shoulder. “You are a most remarkable lady.”
In the car on the way home from the meeting, Sarita closed her eyes and tried to imagine what it had been like six years before, when the Bishop had placed Sarita in Mamacita’s arms. She could have said, “No, Bishop. No baby for us. We are too busy and too tired. She might make noise when we are on the phone. She might aggravate us or ruin my makeup or break something.” But no, Mamacita and Papacito had opened their arms and their hearts to Sarita and thanked Heavenly Father for her in every family prayer. As Sarita looked again at Mamacita, she realized that the lines in her mother’s face were not wrinkles from age as much as they were crinkles from smiling and laughing. Mamacita may be short and plump and have gray hair, but I wouldn’t trade her for anyone else’s mother, no matter how young and beautiful she is!

In Canada, it’s quite a feat to receive the Queen’s Venturer award—it’s one of Scouting’s highest honors in the country. Recently Harvey Calfrobe, a member of the Blood tribe in the Province of Alberta, earned that award.
Harvey had some unique challenges. At four he was diagnosed with leukemia, and he spent most of his younger years fighting it. A severe learning disability also made things even tougher. Now Harvey’s leukemia is in remission, and he excels in a vocational school. He loves to ski, swim, bowl, and, of course, scout.
Harvey was baptized three years ago and is now a priest in the Calgary Eighth Ward, Calgary Alberta West Stake.
In a speech given at the Scouting awards ceremony, Harvey said, “I am proud to be in the Venturer program. It produces winners, and we are winners.”

Sutton Coldfield’s royal title dates back to 1528 when Henry VIII was out hunting in the local park. Disaster nearly occurred when a wild boar appeared, charging menacingly at the king. Before any harm could be done, an arrow sped from the undergrowth, killing the boar. The king was surprised when, on asking to see the person who had saved his life, a young lady came before him.
As well as praising the girl, King Henry invited her to name her reward. She requested a pardon for her father, who had been unjustly outlawed, then asked that a royal charter be given to the town. Both these wishes were granted. Henry honoured the young lady with the gift of a rose, which became the emblem of Sutton Coldfield.

After the completion of his mission, “life was not easy,” says Prince.
“We were still struggling as a family to put meals on the table, but that did not affect my faith in Jesus Christ.”
A former mission friend suggested that he try to move to America to study.
But in order to do that, he needed to secure a study visa. “When I went to apply for my visa the first time it was rejected because I did not have strong enough family ties to prove I would come back to Kenya after my schooling,” he says. “I was determined. I felt this was my opportunity to excel in life and somehow improve life for my family. So, I tried a second time. Again, my application was rejected.”
Undeterred, Prince decided to give it one more go.
On the way to the embassy to submit a third application, he stopped in at his older brother’s office, who had agreed to provide a bank statement to bolster his case.
His older brother asked someone to prepare a drink for Prince, and after a few minutes he was presented with a cup of tea.
“I told my brother, who was not a member, ‘you know I do not take tea.’
“He apologized and laughed and asked the lady to prepare drinking chocolate for me. I responded, ‘Do not worry, just give me the documents and I will rush to the embassy.’
“But,” says Prince, “he insisted.”
Prince waited while the hot chocolate was prepared, drank it, got the document, and left.
He was walking past the Kenya Cinema—only a few meters away from the American embassy—when he heard a blast.
That blast was the sound of gunshots.
“If I had left only three minutes earlier, I would have been caught in the middle of the August 1998 terrorist attack on the US embassy,” says Prince.
“Those extra three minutes waiting for the hot chocolate to be prepared saved my life.”
More than 200 people died in terrorist attacks in East Africa that day, “but I feel I was protected personally because I lived the Word of Wisdom,” says Prince.
“I can testify that if I had thought that drinking tea was a small commandment, I am not sure I would be alive today.”
Prince saw the very real promises contained in section 89 of the Doctrine and Covenants come into play: “And I, the Lord, give unto them a promise, that the destroying angels shall pass by them . . . and not slay them” (verse 21).
In the end, Prince never went to America. He discovered that “the Lord had great plans for me here in Kenya,” he says.

While visiting the country of Sierra Leone in West Africa, I participated in a meeting conducted by a stake Primary leader. Mariama led with such love, grace, and confidence that it was easy to assume she had long been a member of the Church. Mariama, however, was a fairly recent convert.
Her younger sister joined the Church and invited Mariama to attend a Church class with her. Mariama was deeply impressed by the message. The lesson was on the law of chastity. She asked to have the missionaries teach her more and soon received a testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith. She was baptized in 2014, and her daughter was baptized last month. Imagine, the two fundamental teachings that led to Mariama’s conversion were the law of chastity and the Prophet Joseph Smith, two points the world often sees as irrelevant, outdated, or inconvenient. But Mariama testified that she was like a moth attracted to the light. She said, “When I found the gospel, I found myself.” She discovered her worth through divine principles. Her value as a daughter of God was revealed to her through the Holy Ghost.

“My grandfather was a patriarch. His health was deteriorating, and Mother wanted him to give my brother and me our blessings, so she took us to his home, where he sat on the edge of his bed in his bedclothing and gave us our blessings. It made me remember the story in the Old Testament of Isaac blessing Jacob, because Isaac, like my grandfather, was old and infirm. When he gave us our blessings, what he said was truly prophetic. He died a few months later.”

President J. Scott Dorius of the Peru Lima West Mission told me their story. He said:
“Becky and I were married for 25 years without being able to have [or adopt] children. We moved several times. Introducing ourselves in each new setting was awkward and sometimes painful. Ward members wondered why we [didn’t have] children. They weren’t the only ones wondering.
“When I was called as a bishop, ward members [expressed] concern that I did not have any experience with children and teenagers. I thanked them for their sustaining vote and asked them to allow me to practice my child-raising skills on their children. They lovingly obliged.
“We waited, gained perspective, and learned patience. After 25 years of marriage, a miracle baby came into our lives. We adopted two-year-old Nicole and then newborn Nikolai. Strangers now compliment us on our beautiful grandchildren. We laugh and say, ‘They are our children. We have lived our lives backwards.’”18

When the Americans had cleared the mountain and were gone, we left the house and marched on again toward home. A few days later, we were stopped once more by the Americans. At first I didn’t speak. I wanted to act like I didn’t know English. I heard them say, “Well, we’ll just let them sit here, and we’ll put them on the next truck that comes to transport them to a camp.” Trucks had been going by every two to three minutes.
We sat there waiting for a truck to come by any second. We waited and waited, for an hour or longer, but no truck came. I finally went up to the MP who was chewing gum. I had never seen anyone chew gum before—and he was talking at the same time.

I told him who we were, and he said, “Oh, all of a sudden you speak English.”
“Yes, I speak English. I learned it in school. I was just scared.”
“How old are you?” he asked me. I told him I was 17-and-a-half years old.
“Where have you been?”
I explained the whole thing—what we had done, why we had civilian clothes on, where we wanted to go—home. He called up on the phone and checked the outfits where we had been to see if the information I had given him was correct. Then he looked at me for a long time and said, “I have a boy about your age, and if he would say to someone, ‘I’d like to go home to Mother,’ I hope they’d give him the chance. If you take this road, there is an American headquarters; but if you take that road, they can’t see you. Good luck.”

Finally we were almost home. Everything was shut down. There was no train, no car, no bus, no telephone—nothing. So we continued crawling through the forest, following the creek. I knew that area well. We reached my neighborhood, and I just wanted to go through the gate of our neighbor’s backyard. I left the others and opened the gate. A little gun that had been put there to shoot the gophers went off. It scared the wits out of me and the neighbors, who quickly came running. But they were glad to see that I was home safely. I sent my sister back to the forest with some food for my friends before they continued on to their homes.

I grew up on the Crow Indian Reservation and attended a small branch off the reservation in Hardin, Montana. I had always looked forward to becoming a deacon; passing the sacrament seemed like a big deal and a worthy goal. I made it to age twelve and passed off the Articles of Faith, which someone had led me to believe I had to do or I would be stuck in Primary until I did.

I then needed the outfit of a deacon—the white shirt, tie, slacks, and shiny shoes. My parents, especially my mother, were very frugal, and I was growing at rates they found hard to gauge. Often I was outfitted in clothes they predicted I would grow into. So my first Sunday as a deacon I was outfitted in a white shirt with one of my dad’s clip-on ties—Larry loved the convenience of clip-on ties and hadn’t yet had time to teach me to tie a real tie—black shiny shoes, and a pair of black slacks about four sizes too big. I found a belt and strapped those big pants on nice and high, well above my waist, so the cuffs didn’t drag in the snow and ice.

As I was marching up to take my place on the bench in front of the sacrament table, several different members of the branch made jokes about my attire, especially the size of my slacks. By the time I reached the deacon bench, I had lost most of my self-confidence and desire to pass the sacrament. I soldiered up anyway and self-consciously did my deacon duty and passed the sacrament. After sacrament meeting I had just about decided to quit and not come back the next Sunday. What happened next is not miraculous. (And I eventually grew into the pants.) I decided that I couldn’t and wouldn’t let what other people think and say about me keep me from doing what is right for me. I also learned I needed to be a little less sensitive. I know the jokesters who had made fun of me and my big, oversized pants probably thought they were funny and did not mean any harm and would have felt bad had they known how their comments affected me. Now when there is something I know I should do or want to do, I think of that kid in the oversized pants, and I hike my pants up and move ahead.

“When I was twelve, I became a batboy for a local professional baseball team. That’s when I met my hero, Lou Gehrig. He did more to inspire me than any other single player or event. I couldn’t believe he was coming to Little Rock. Not only did I meet him, but I also had a chance to pitch to him in batting practice. He lived a clean life, and he taught me some great lessons. He could see that young people were the hope of the future.
“One day I asked Mr. Gehrig if he knew of a way I could get rid of the butterflies in my stomach when I went out onto the ball field. He replied, ‘Don’t ever get rid of the butterflies—God put them there on purpose. They keep you humble. They remind you that there’s a higher source. They also remind you that there are eight other players and that you can’t play the game alone.’
“That is a good lesson to remember. There are many others who care about us on our team—our families, our bishop, our Primary teacher, our friends. Most important of all, our Father in Heaven loves us and knows what is best for us, and He is always there. We never have to play the game alone.”

One year the young women in my ward participated in an interesting experiment related to dressing modestly. Here’s an account of one young woman who learned about this gospel principle and applied it to her life.
Anna Larsen* was excited that her turn to shop for clothes had finally come. Sister Jensen, her Laurel adviser, had taken each girl in the class shopping to learn a modesty lesson. Anna wasn’t sure what to expect.
When they arrived at the store, Sister Jensen asked Anna to pick out three outfits. As they walked to the dressing room, Sister Jensen said, “After you’ve put on an outfit, come out. Be prepared to have your eyes opened.”
Intrigued by her leader’s directions, Anna put on the sleeveless button-down shirt and hip-hugging skirt. When she walked out, Sister Jensen motioned her to the mirrors. “Now we’re going to play a game.”
“I doubt the clerks would be happy with me playing in their clothes before I’ve bought them,” Anna said.
Sister Jensen laughed and shook her head. “We’re going to play ‘Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes.’”
Anna looked skeptical.
“I’m serious,” Sister Jensen said. “Let’s start with your head.”
Anna put her hands on her head and saw her shirt pull up, baring her skin. “Oops,” she gasped, tugging it back down.
Sister Jensen put Anna’s hands back up. “That’s part of the game. You see how much your shirt lifts up? Now try shoulders,” Sister Jensen said.
When Anna dropped her hands to her shoulders she noticed even more showing inside the armholes. She also saw the shirt straining at the buttons.
“Now bend over and touch your knees and toes,” Sister Jensen advised.
Between her shirt and skirt was a two-inch gap. “Wow,” Anna said.
“I know,” Sister Jensen said. “Now, go try on the next outfit.”
After repeating the game twice more, Anna’s mood dimmed. None of her outfits had completely passed the “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes” test.
“Don’t worry,” Sister Jensen said. “There’s hope. You just have to know how to put things together.” For the next hour Sister Jensen showed Anna how to layer different clothes to make them modest and stylish. She then challenged Anna to look through her closet and see if any changes needed to be made.
Later that night Anna looked at the mess on her bed. It had been overwhelming trying everything on to see what was modest or immodest. With a sigh she picked up one particular pile and carried it to her mom.
“Mom, I was wondering if I could donate these clothes.”
“Sure, honey. Why?” her mom replied.
Anna smiled. “Have you ever played ‘Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes’?”

I remember one particular day in the San Diego Mission Home, when my husband was the mission president. It was time to bid one group of missionaries good-bye and welcome and train new ones. The zone leaders were in for training. Food had to be prepared. Linens needed to be changed and laundry done. The home was crowded, full to overflowing; I was supposed to give the missionaries an encouraging, inspirational talk. I felt pressured, even desperate.
I found a quiet corner among the crowd and prayed almost out loud to Heavenly Father, asking, “What am I to do about all these responsibilities that come so fast? There is no time to prepare. Please help me.” I suppose I expected the sympathetic words of a parent to come to me, “You poor, dear child.” But instead I heard a voice saying, “This is not your time, but my time.” The voice was firm and strong, and from that I knew I should rely on the Lord and I would find help from Him.
I began my scripture study in earnest, first priority. I am so grateful now for that inspiration. I received great solace and comfort as I read the Book of Mormon. A guide came to me when I read Alma 37:35–37.

I knew a young woman who was taught the gospel and who wanted to join the Church but who was having trouble with the Word of Wisdom. She used cigarettes and coffee, and the thought of never having another cigarette or cup of coffee in her whole life overwhelmed her. One of the missionaries told her to try it for just one day and then just one more day. She found that by living it a day at a time she could make it, and she was soon baptized. The same would be true in changing any bad habit for a good one.

Although I didn’t attend Primary as a child, I learned what a blessing Primary is when I had children of my own. Once our family moved into a new home in downtown Seoul. After moving in we discovered that there were some bad places of entertainment in the neighborhood. My wife and I worried about how this might affect our children. One day we heard our daughter and her younger brother talking in the backseat of the car. “When you go to school, some friends might ask you why you are living in such a bad neighborhood,” our daughter said. “But don’t worry. In Primary we learn how to live the gospel of Jesus Christ. As long as we follow the teachings of Jesus, we will be safe.”
My son answered, “Yes, it doesn’t matter where we live if we choose the right.”
They were talking to each other, not to us. As I listened, I felt overwhelming gratitude to their wonderful Primary teachers. My daughter and son both grew up to be faithful Latter-day Saints. So enjoy Primary, and do the things your teachers tell you. You will be better, safer people if you do.

I was in the Navy at the end of World War II, when I was a very young man. My training took place near San Diego, California. Everyone in the Navy had to know how to swim, or they wouldn’t let him out of boot camp (training camp). I had learned to swim as a boy and could do it quite well.

One day an officer said, “All of you who can swim get to go to San Diego for the day. Those who can’t must have a full day of swimming lessons. So those of you who can swim, line up over here, and we’ll put you on a bus and take you into town.” I lined up with the swimmers—there were about thirty or forty of us. But instead of having my group get on a bus, the officer marched us into the gym, where the swimming pool was.

I thought, You’re mixed up, fellow. We’re the ones who can swim. But, of course, I said nothing. We prepared for swimming and were ordered to jump into the deep end of the pool.

Most of us obeyed, but about ten men in our group didn’t know how to swim. They had thought that they could go to San Diego without measuring up. The officer didn’t let them just stand there—he pushed them into the water. He let them go under the water, come up gasping for air, and then go down again. When they came up for the second time, a big bamboo pole was held out to them, and they were pulled to safety. Then the officer said sternly, “Don’t you ever lie to me again!” I tell you, I was glad I hadn’t tried that! The experience taught me the value of being honest and true to yourself at all times.

This great leader had such a compassionate heart. A personal friend of mine told me of an example of such compassion. He said his uncle Junius Burt worked on the street department crew for Salt Lake City, and on a very cold day many years ago, he and others on the crew were chipping ice with shovels and hand implements from South Temple Street between State Street and Main Street. President George Albert Smith said to one of the workers who had no coat, “You should wear a coat today. It’s too cold to be out here in this very frigid weather working as you are working.”

The man, who did not know President Smith, replied, “I have no coat to wear.”

President Smith then removed his own coat, handed it to the man, and said, “Here, you take this coat and wear it. I work just across the street, and I can get there without a coat.”

Received by that worker that day was more than an overcoat. Received was a gesture of kindness which the recipient of the coat and his coworkers never forgot.

To say I used to hate exercise is an understatement. Just about any form of exercise was uncomfortable. In my middle school gym class, we had to run laps around the field to complete a mile and a half. We also did other exercises to build endurance, strength, and flexibility. All of it was incredibly hard. And all of it took me a long time to do.
There was a reason things were so challenging. I was born with Cystic Fibrosis (CF), which is a genetically inherited terminal illness.
My condition causes mucus to build up in my lungs. My body also has a hard time absorbing nutrients. Because of this, I need lung treatments every morning and night to keep my airways clear. I also take a series of medications throughout the day. I’ve always done this. However, my life seriously improved once I added a couple of extra health habits. And yes, one is daily exercise!
Everything started to change in my life when I found something I genuinely loved to do. While in high school, I discovered dancing. The first time I combined movement with music and put my whole energy into dancing, I knew I’d found something special.
When I first started to dance, I experienced the same discomforts I had while running laps in middle school. This time, though, my new passion for dancing made all the difference. I felt carried away as my feet pounded and leapt to the rhythms and beats of the music. I was able to express myself freely through a variety of movements, feeling uplifted and empowered.
I took entry-level dance classes at school and danced as much as possible. The longer I kept at it, the more I noticed big changes in my health. My lung function grew stronger and steadier. As I continued staying active through doing what I loved, I was able to accomplish much more than I’d ever dreamed.
I’d been taught my whole life that my body is a temple. But I hadn’t really considered how this means both avoiding harmful things (drugs, alcohol, coffee, tea, etc.) but also doing the healthy things my body needs.
President Russell M. Nelson has taught: “With your body being such a vital part of God’s eternal plan, it is little wonder that the Apostle Paul described it as a ‘temple of God’ [1 Corinthians 3:16]. Each time you look in the mirror, see your body as your temple. That truth—refreshed gratefully each day—can positively influence your decisions about how you will care for your body and how you will use it. And those decisions will determine your destiny.”1
As I took care of my body and saw it as a temple, my life changed for the better. Breathing was easier, my energy increased, and I became more alert to my surroundings. My body weight increased to a healthy level, which I could better maintain because my lungs weren’t working so hard.
Before, I had always experienced a health crash at least once a year and needed a two-week hospital stay to restore my health. But after I started dancing and taking better care of myself, that need disappeared. I went six or seven years without having to stay in a hospital.
After graduation I headed off to Brigham Young University. While there, I kept pondering a part of my patriarchal blessing that mentions sharing the gospel. In the past, I’d always thought, “There’s no way I can ever serve a full-time mission. It’s too risky with CF!” In addition to the health risks, I was afraid my daily treatment routine wouldn’t fit with a typical missionary schedule.
Still, the thought wouldn’t go away. Could I actually serve a mission?
As I pondered and prayed, I kept thinking about my favorite scripture. In Mosiah 2:20–21, King Benjamin taught how the Lord had “kept and preserved” His people, “lending [them] breath” each day. These scriptures helped me see how the Lord had “kept and preserved” me.
Though I was still a bit scared, I knew it was God’s will for me to serve. I received a doctor’s clearance, submitted my papers, and was called to serve a mission. I believed the scripture that teaches that God is “supporting [me] from one moment to another” (Mosiah 2:21). As I served my mission in Boston, Massachusetts, that promise was definitely fulfilled.
My mission days were a treasure. One of the greatest blessings was developing a deeper relationship with Heavenly Father and with Jesus Christ. Part of that closeness meant achieving a better understanding of Their will concerning me, including the importance of safeguarding my health.
As a missionary, you’re focused on serving others. Yet I knew that to stay on my mission, I had to remain healthy. I decided to never miss a lung treatment. I would exercise every morning. And I would maintain good eating habits.
As a result, I was better able to be His instrument and serve others. It was a valuable lesson to know I can still serve, even with my illness. I’ve learned that what you can do, despite any limitations you have, is much better to focus on than what you can’t do.
Satan wants us to mistreat our bodies. The adversary and the world try to twist something good—the need to take care of our bodies—into something harmful: the idea that you must look or feel a certain way. This distortion can cause great discouragement when we don’t look that certain way or fit a certain size.
How do we overcome this worldly message and focus instead on better health? How can we stay motivated to prioritize better health, despite all our challenges?
One answer is to live with gratitude.
When we see our body as a gift from our Creator—when we are grateful for all it can do—we feel stronger motivation to care for it and live to our fullest capacity.
There are times with CF where my lungs don’t get the full breaths I need—when my arms become swollen from PICC lines and IVs, when I feel fatigued while fighting off illnesses. In these times, I’ve found that I can either sulk and see my body’s limitations or express gratitude by using well what is still functioning and taking the best care of myself. When we live with patience, faith, and gratitude, we find joy.
Although many say the mission is the best years of their life, I’ve come to find that my life is a mission. My mission president would always say, “A mission is the training wheels for an unselfish, consecrated life. When the mission ends, the training wheels come off, and you ride.”
Because I changed my lifestyle years ago, I’ve been able to reach a clearer understanding of what the Lord has in store for me and to accomplish much more while paying heed to the Spirit’s direction to help me change. I know that “unto whom much is given much is required” (D&C 82:3).
I’ve experienced the change from being sedentary, weak, and ill to becoming stronger and more capable. I now have many dreams and know how to better work alongside the Lord to accomplish His work. I’ve also decided to study corporate wellness and fitness coaching as my profession. After experiencing so many positive changes in my own life, I want to help others reach their potential too.
When it comes to our physical health, I think of how the Lord has sent us here so that we may have joy (see 2 Nephi 2:25). I believe this includes each of us being able to live each day to the fullest, especially within our families and with those closest to us.
I think often about the joy I can experience with my family today and throughout eternity. Some trials come and go, some stay, but our Heavenly Father, our Savior, and His gospel and promises are always constant.

One young man I will call Joseph said, “In my school I’ve always been known by what I can and cannot do. People say, ‘Joseph can’t drink coffee or alcohol. Joseph doesn’t look at pornography or swear.’ Now I want them to know the reasons.”

He said that when people used to ask him why he lives this way, he would say, “Because of my church.” That’s a good answer, but there are better ones. Now he refers to the principles in the For the Strength of Youth guide:

Illustrations by Emily Davis
Why do you go to church on Sunday?
Because I love God and others.
Why don’t you drink coffee or alcohol?
Because my body is sacred.
Why don’t you look at pornography?
Because I want to walk in the light.
Isn’t it hard trying to be so good all the time?
Sometimes, but Christ helps me.

One research study reported that some young people are choosing to leave religion because they don’t see the reasons for the rules and boundaries associated with religion.2 Joseph is not one of those. The For the Strength of Youth guide is helping him know those reasons for himself and share them with others. It can do the same for you.