Gospel Story Finder

When I was a young boy, my greatest desire was to play basketball. Fortunately, I had a father who was anxious to see that his son’s desire was met. Dad and I would practice the basics of passing and dribbling the basketball hour after hour in our small kitchen. I would listen to college basketball games on the radio and dream of playing college ball someday. Serving a mission was far from my mind at that time; consequently, I spent very little effort in missionary preparation. In an attempt to ensure some balance in my life, my dad—who had not held a Church calling in many years—accepted the call to serve as my Scoutmaster. He operated by the book, and due to his diligence, some of my friends and I became Eagle Scouts. I realize now that Scouting is great preparation for a mission.

Young members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and their Muslim friends in Queensland are helping an Australian charity to bring light into communities in Vanuatu impacted by energy poverty.
Last October, 186 young single adult volunteers, including friends from the Ahmadiyyah Muslim community, Church members and friends, gathered to assemble 1,000 solar lights.
The workers also wrote a greeting or message of encouragement on the instruction sheet that accompanies each light.
One volunteer said, “Not only are we building the lights, but we are also writing a letter to send with the lights, and it really makes it personal, and it really feels good to help others.”
Billie Murphy, SolarBuddy representative, said, “These lights will be used for children to study at nighttime and to move about their community safely and hopefully give them a really good opportunity as they move forward.”
Carl Maurer, self-reliance manager and Area Seventy, said, “I see this as an opportunity to relieve suffering, to increase the capacity for education to be a profile in somebody’s home, to offer better health opportunities in their homes, where they can become more self-reliant.”
Volunteers registered on JustServe, a free community service platform for building unity through community service, where the service project was posted.
The lights were purchased as a humanitarian project, by Latter-day Saint Charities, the service arm of the Church, from Solar Buddy, which is an Australian charity with the goal of ending energy poverty for all children.
After assembling the lights, which took about five minutes each, the young adults continued to mingle with games, activities, and, of course, food.
Carl Maurer said, “I hope that this will be a significant opportunity for families and individuals to see not just the light from the light, but see the Light of their lives, Jesus Christ.”

Fishing and hunting are big in Alabama. That’s how it happened that a group of young people from Dothan, Alabama, recently descended on Lake Eufala, which calls itself “the bass capitol of the world.” They hadn’t been there long when a boatload of youths from the local Eufala branch came lazying by, propelled by one paddle and one landing net. A little earlier a couple of young people had been out in the same boat with their dad, checking troutlines baited with chunks of soap.
The Dothan group wasn’t destined to take home many fish that day, but they got some good Alabama sunshine and proved once again that participating in Church activities is a lot of fun wherever you live.

We were supposed to be filled with joy, but our hearts were heavy and our arms were empty. Debra Caelia Carter arrived on her due date, April 26, 2010, but she was stillborn.
As we walked into our home, I carried the tiny pink blanket we had used to hold and cuddle Debra at the hospital. When I sat on the couch, overcome with emotion, our two-year-old son approached the empty blanket and whispered, “Hello, baby sister. I love you.”
Tears streamed down my face, and I turned away. As I did so, I saw the words of a poster from the Friend magazine hanging on the wall: “Our Heavenly Father is only a prayer away, and the Holy Ghost is within whispering distance.”1
I began to pour out my heart to God in silent, fervent prayer. As I did so, I felt the Holy Ghost whisper, “Read your Book of Mormon again.” I had just finished reading it, but the feeling was distinct and the impression clear.
Arising early the following morning, I began reading the Book of Mormon. I used pencils and markers to highlight every passage about faith, prayer, hope, Jesus Christ’s attributes, preaching the gospel, and hearkening to the Lord’s voice. I knew that I must do what Nephi, Enos, Moroni, and other Book of Mormon prophets had done when they suffered trials. And I must do it with the same love for the Savior that filled their lives during difficult times.
During these daily, personal scripture study hours, I felt the Lord’s arms encircling me in His love, and I felt the power of His atoning sacrifice for all. The Spirit spoke to me, a peace covered me, and answers came to my fervent prayers. Pondering the words I read gave me strength as I grieved.
One day the Spirit filled me with joy as I read these words:
“I love little children with a perfect love; and they are all alike and partakers of salvation. …
“Little children … are all alive in [God] because of his mercy. …
“For behold that all little children are alive in Christ” (Moroni 8:17, 19, 22; emphasis added).
I felt as if I could see my daughter alive in Christ—smiling and happy and encircled in His arms. From that moment on I felt the power to endure, and I felt a new hope ignite in my soul for my family. I knew that if we would hold fast to the Atonement, the scriptures, the words of the living prophets, and each other through our temple covenants, we would be reunited as a family eternally.
I love the Book of Mormon, which clearly testifies of Jesus Christ, what He did and does for us, and what we must do to be like Him. The Book of Mormon brings light to my life and fills up my heart with hope in Christ.

Preparing to decorate our Christmas tree, I unpacked a box filled with Christmas decorations that I hadn’t seen or used in several years. As I pawed through the Christmas lights and linens, I discovered a dress box filled with Christmas ornaments I had collected when I was single and teaching school. I discovered a plain, cross-stitched ornament that simply said “Christmas Open House—1984.” My mind raced back to that year. I was unmarried and had apprehensively moved from a young single adult ward to a family ward.
I love the Christmas season, but some had been very lonely for me. Being in my 30s, single, and not having children, I sometimes felt left out. It was easy for me to feel sorry for myself, falling back into what I called the “poor little old me syndrome.” That particular year, 1984, I remember making a conscious decision to conquer the syndrome, to look beyond myself and see what I could do to make Christmas joyful for others.
I was relatively new to the ward and thought that opening my modest apartment to members of the Relief Society would help me celebrate the holidays and become better acquainted with the sisters.
As I reminisced about that open house, I remembered the small Christmas tree decorated with my box of ornaments, the smell of the shortbread cookies my single friends helped me bake, and the sweet taste of Mom’s “white Christmas punch” I served to the guests.
That conscious decision in 1984 to “lose my life” by looking outward was indeed a turning point in “finding” myself. As I pondered the past, I realized that many, in turn, had followed our Savior’s words and lost their life for me. Christmas ornaments had become a sweet reminder of Christlike friends.

Ericka sat in the back of the room. When the teacher asked questions, even if Ericka knew the answers, she never raised her hand. She was too shy. Instead, she’d duck her head behind her books to hide.
But today, she couldn’t hide. The teacher came and stood beside her desk.
“You don’t want to be captain for field day?” he asked, looking down at her.
Ericka slid down in her seat. “Not really.”
“But the class voted for you.”
Ericka bit her lower lip. “I’m not good at being in charge. Someone else could do it better.” She looked up. “Please ask Keith or Tara or …”
Mr. Folster patted her shoulder. “OK, we’ll get someone else.”
Ericka sat up straight and watched the hands of the clock tick off the minutes until recess.
Once out the door, her friend Lauri tugged her sleeve. “How come you don’t ever want to be captain?”
Ericka shrugged. “It’s hard for me to tell people what to do.”
“But you’re so good at sports, and the whole class wants you to be our captain.”
“It’s just …”
“Oh, forget it,” Lauri laughed as she ran to the swings. “It’s just like you to want to be invisible.”
Ericka walked over to the swings and sat in the one next to Lauri. She pumped hard, trying to get her toes to touch the leaves of a nearby tree.
Across the playground, some kids were jumping on tires that had been partially buried in the ground to form an obstacle course.
Pump. Pump. Pump. Up she went.
Jump. Jump. Jump. Across the playground, children sprang from one tire to the next.
Then she saw it—a duck. A very upset duck!
She dragged her feet to stop. “Lauri,” she called as her friend swept past on her downward swing. “There’s a duck.”
“Can’t be,” Lauri called back. “Ducks like water, not playgrounds.”
Ericka pointed. “There, by the tires.”
Lauri kept swinging.
Ericka slid off the swing and hurried over to the tires. The kids were still jumping; the duck, flapping its wings, waddled in front of the tires, squawking furiously.
Ericka peeked into the farthest tire. There was a nest with two light green eggs in it.
She held up her hands, motioning for the jumpers to stop. Nothing happened. “Please, Heavenly Father,” she silently prayed, “help me have the courage to help the duck save her nest.”
“Please stop,” she said quietly, “you’re scaring the duck.”
Jump. Jump. “We’re not hurting it.”
Jump. Jump. “Anyhow, it’s just a duck.”
“Just a duck!” Ericka’s voice was no longer soft. Hands on hips, chin thrust forward, she glared at her classmates. “It’s one of God’s creatures, just like you and me. And”—she pointed to the tire—“there are eggs in her nest. That’s why she’s so mad at you.”
The jumpers stopped. They’d never seen Ericka like this. She insisted that everyone move away from the tires, and she asked Mr. Folster, who was on playground duty, to find some way to keep the tires off limits.
Mr. Folster put a wide strip of yellow plastic around the tires. And the art teacher printed a sign: Stay Off—Mallard Nursery.
Each day, when the class checked the nest, there was one new egg. Then, after a few days, the mother duck never left the nest. She just stayed in the tire. The class worried that something was wrong, but Mr. Folster explained that everything was fine. The mother duck was just keeping the eggs warm until they hatched.
At last, there were seven little ducklings. Six were mottled brown with just touches of yellow. But one had a lot more yellow.
“That one is so different,” said Ericka. “Will it always be a different color?”
“No,” Mr. Folster answered. “When the ducklings get older, they’ll all look pretty much the same. That yellowish one, though, reminds me of you.”
“I don’t look like a duck,” Ericka giggled.
“No, but for a short time, you were willing to stand out from the crowd because of something you believed in.”

One young woman shares her testimony of the power of holding family home evening each week. “I cannot recall one single family home evening that significantly changed my life,” she says. “Rather it is my memory of family home evenings as a whole that has strengthened my testimony and led me down the path of truth. We spent each Monday night as a family for as long as I can remember. We studied the scriptures, played kickball, held family councils, played games, and learned to love and respect one another despite our individual faults and weaknesses. My father eagerly tried to instill in us a love for the gospel and the happiness that could be ours if we obeyed the commandments.
“By the time I turned 14, I refused to go to church, but family home evenings continued. My father continued to have hope for me. Eventually family home evening became my only link to the gospel of Jesus Christ. I headed down the wrong path and made several mistakes, but somewhere deep inside my heart I knew that the gospel was true and that nothing I did could change that fact.
“At the age of 18, I knew I had to make a decision: Would I follow the Savior or would I follow the world? I could not serve two masters. I chose to follow the Lord and through repentance returned to full Church activity. I believe it was the determination of my father to continue to hold family home evening—even though I chafed against it—that made the difference.
“Now my husband and I hope to help instill a love of the Savior and His Church in our children through, of course, regular family home evening.”

One day in Italy I met a wonderful priesthood leader and his wife. In him I saw a man with great potential. But my language was foreign to them. Through an interpreter, I challenged them to study the English language. They listened obediently and studied diligently. Now six years later, ably sustained by his wife, Carolina, Vincenzo Conforte is faithfully serving his second assignment as a mission president, interviewing missionaries well in Italian or in English.

David Baker, a priest in the Laie Fifth Ward, Laie Hawaii Stake, won the national Very Special Arts Henry Fonda Young Playwrights Competition. His play, Inside Al, was chosen over more than 100 written by teens throughout the nation. It was performed at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C., with David watching in the audience.
The Very Special Arts organization was founded to encourage participation in the arts by people with mental or physical handicaps and to foster better understanding of the challenges faced by the handicapped. Inside Al portrays both the outer appearance and inner thoughts and feelings of a person with cerebral palsy. The play was warmly received.
David also has won second place in a short story contest and has had several accepted for publication. In addition to his writing, David has played in his high school marching band, and his tuba solo won the solo award at the Holiday Bowl competition in San Diego. He also plays m the jazz band and in the brass band at the Polynesian Cultural Center. He enjoys drawing and painting, including painting custom designs on sneakers.
David plans to attend BYU—Hawaii Campus and is looking forward to serving a mission like his two older brothers.

When I first entered Young Women, I felt alone because I had left my friends in the Valiant class. However, I tried to support the young women, and they also supported me, and I was able to make new friends and interact with them. I no longer felt alone, and that made me happy. Now I am the president of the Beehives, and if I see a new sister who feels uncomfortable being with us, I talk with her, explain what we do in class, and make her feel that she is part of us.
Gredy G., 14, Lima, Peru

I have many memories of my boyhood days. Anticipating Sunday dinner was one of them. Just as we children hovered at our so-called starvation level and sat anxiously at the table with the aroma of roast beef filling the room, Mother would say to me, “Tommy, before we eat, take this plate of food I’ve prepared down the street to Old Bob, and then hurry back.”

I could never understand why we couldn’t first eat and later deliver his plate of food. I never questioned aloud but would run down to his house and then wait anxiously as Bob’s aged feet brought him eventually to the door. Then I would hand him the plate of food. He would present to me the clean plate from the previous Sunday and offer me a dime as pay for my services. My answer was always the same: “I can’t accept the money. My mother would tan my hide.” He would then run his wrinkled hand through my blond hair and say, “My boy, you have a wonderful mother. Tell her thank you.”

You know, I think I never did tell her. I sort of felt Mother didn’t need to be told. She seemed to sense his gratitude. I remember, too, that Sunday dinner always seemed to taste a bit better after I had returned from my errand.3

Our daughter Abi is a talented runner. When she was a freshman in high school she became very focused on her performance—in showing how fast she was—and she feared failing because that would mean she wasn’t talented. One particularly hot fall afternoon she chose not to run in a meet because it just seemed too hard for her to run well. In contrast, by her senior year she used each meet, regardless of circumstances, to learn how she could improve. She scored in every race. She ended up as her team’s most consistent runner, placing better at nearly every meet, and she ran in the state championship. She demonstrated a shift from a fixed mind-set to a growth mind-set.

First, love for Christ. This concept proclaims Jesus as the object of our love, and our lives should be an external expression of our gratitude for him. Sometimes that is difficult to do. I once visited a high priests group meeting where an older brother taught us. He noted that “as a people we often pray, ‘We thank thee for all the blessings we enjoy.’ But what about the blessings we don’t enjoy? It can be very hard to be thankful for those.” This dear man had just experienced his first Christmas without his sweetheart in more than fifty years. It is difficult to be grateful to the Lord under circumstances we don’t enjoy.
Our beloved President Benson told some of his experiences with the Saints in war-torn countries and shared the following: “One sister walked over a thousand miles with four small children, leaving her home in Poland. She lost all four to starvation and the freezing conditions. Yet she stood before us in her emaciated condition, her clothing shredded, and her feet wrapped in burlap, and bore testimony of how blessed she was” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1980, pp. 47–48; or Ensign, Nov. 1980, p. 33). Things we don’t enjoy must not overshadow our reasons to maintain our love for the Savior. Otherwise we may lose our perspective or become bitter, and our love for Christ may be lost.
How deeply do we love him? Does our love depend on favorable environments? Is it diminished or strengthened by our experiences? Is our love for him evident by our behavior and our attitude? Charity, or love for Christ, sustains us in every need and influences us in every decision.
A second dimension of the meaning of charity is love from Christ. From a prophet of the Book of Mormon comes an inspired explanation. Speaking to the Lord, Moroni declared: “Thou hast said that thou hast loved the world, even unto the laying down of thy life for the world. …
“This love which thou hast had for the children of men is charity” (Ether 12:33–34).
Through his compliance with the severe requirements of the Atonement, the Savior offered the ultimate expression of love. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). And by permitting his Son to make such a selfless and suffering sacrifice, the Father provided us with an ultimate expression of his love as his gift to the rest of his children.
The Apostle John accurately testified of this infinite though conditional representation of the charity of the Gods when he wrote, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16). This gift of charity is to be received. The Savior’s act of redemption for our sins is of no effect without our willingness to comply with the conditions of his atonement.
Speaking of the need for us to receive the divine love of God, Moroni prayerfully declared, “Except men shall have charity they cannot inherit that place which thou hast prepared in the mansions of thy Father” (Ether 12:34).
Some years ago I prepared to teach a class on a subject I felt would be particularly difficult. The night before the scheduled class, I prayed for guidance and then retired, still troubled in my mind. When I awoke, a certain thought was introduced to my mind that I shared with the class later that morning. After the class, a young man spoke with me privately and said, “The lesson was for me. I now know what I have to do.” Later, I learned that he had come to that class as his first contact with the Church in many years. He then proceeded to get his life in order and eventually served a faithful mission. Presently he is experiencing the happiness associated with keeping eternal family covenants. He possesses the gift of charity because he received the atoning love of Christ.
A third perception of charity is to possess a love that is like Christ. In other words, people are the object of Christlike love. Nephi said: “I have charity for my people. …
“I have charity for the Jew. …
“I also have charity for the Gentiles” (2 Ne. 33:7–9).
Since Nephi had such love for everyone, we wonder how he acquired it. He must have lived in anticipation of the divine directive that would later be proclaimed by the Savior as the key to the development of love: “A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you.” (John 13:34; emphasis added).
Jesus’ love was inseparably connected to and resulted from his life of serving, sacrificing, and giving in behalf of others. We cannot develop Christlike love except by practicing the process prescribed by the Master.
The Apostle John was not only loved by the Lord, but he also loved others like the Lord. John affirmed the process by saying, “Hereby perceive we the love of God, because he laid down his life for us: and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren” (1 Jn. 3:16).
Is it a coincidence that missionaries give a portion of their lives in behalf of others, then come home and testify of their great love for the people they have served? Is it any wonder that bishops and other priesthood and auxiliary leaders who sacrifice for others are filled with love for those who are recipients of their labors? Is there a greater love among mortals than that of a mother, who offers all for her child? Many who desire to have charity like Jesus attain it as he did.
On one occasion my wife expected to be away for the weekend and asked one of the sisters in our ward to teach her Relief Society lesson. The week following the session, that sister came to our home and returned the instruction manual. She also brought to my wife a freshly baked loaf of bread and a handwritten note that read, “I love you. You are a special person. Thank you for thinking of me.” She was grateful to have been asked to serve. She was full of the love of Christ.
Charity is not just a precept or a principle, nor is it just a word to describe actions or attitudes. Rather, it is an internal condition that must be developed and experienced in order to be understood. We are possessors of charity when it is a part of our nature. People who have charity have a love for the Savior, have received of his love, and love others as he does.
It may be of some significance to note that the word charity does not appear in a single verse in the Old Testament. Surely the prophets of ancient times understood the need for charity as did the Apostle Paul and the prophets of ancient America. And surely those prophets knew and taught that “charity is the pure love of Christ” (Moro. 7:47). We are left to wonder if the enemies of Christ deliberately removed from the holy writings these saving truths as part of the plain and precious teachings that Nephi prophetically said would be removed (see 1 Ne. 13:20–29). Also, charity is only partially explained in the New Testament. But thankfully the Book of Mormon, another witness for Christ, has restored to us an understanding of this eternal precept. I testify that as we abide by this precept, we will draw nearer to God. Indeed, we will become more like him.
Individually and collectively, we can experience the peace and happiness enjoyed for nearly two hundred years anciently when “there was no contention in the land, because of the love of God which did dwell in the hearts of the people” (4 Ne. 1:15). This I know, as I know the Savior lives, in the holy name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Sister Hansen and I had an experience some years ago that illustrates the point I want to make. We were serving as chaperons to a young adult group from our stake on an overnight retreat to a cabin in Huntsville located in the mountains east of Ogden.

This retreat we were chaperoning was in January, and it was a particularly cold January. When we were given the details, no one mentioned that the large log cabin we would be staying in was heated by a single fireplace in the living room.

Well, as the time came for retiring—the young women upstairs, the young men downstairs with their sleeping bags laid out on the plank floors—Jeanine and I were given the privacy of the bedroom and the luxury of a bed. There were no blinds on the windows, so with the lights out we removed our street clothes and quickly jumped into bed.

We were surprised to feel such a light set of covers, but we thought with the help of the bedspread we might make it through. We quickly dropped off to sleep, but as we did, the temperature dropped, too.

As we awakened shivering, we could tell that the young man assigned to keep the fire going had dropped off to sleep also and not one Btu could be felt radiating under the door into our room. What to do? We hurriedly got up and put on our clothing—but even with all our clothes, including the light jackets we had worn in the car, we spent the next four hours literally in a slow freeze. I am sure the temperature went down to twenty or twenty-five below zero outside, and it wasn’t much warmer inside. We were reluctant to turn on the lights and try and get a fire going and wake everyone up, so we just toughed it out.

Without a doubt that was as uncomfortable as any night we have ever spent. As daylight broke, we couldn’t wait to get out of bed and start moving. Then, as we removed the pillows to make the bed, to our great surprise there were the controls for the electric blanket we had unknowingly slept under during that miserable night.

Unfortunately, we ofttimes have similar experiences, though not necessarily involving an electric blanket. But we make things harder than they need to be as we fail to recognize or take advantage of facilities or resources that would make our lives or our work more enjoyable and more effective or even more bearable in some cases.

In England, Elder Woodruff learned that a large group of people called the United Brethren had gathered to worship and to ask God for more knowledge of truth.
Elder Woodruff: John, this is inspired! The Lord sent me to Hereford to teach these people.
Elder Woodruff’s success with the United Brethren was even more astounding than his boyhood success with fishing. In two days he baptized six hundred people!
Constable: I have been ordered to arrest you, Elder Woodruff, for preaching to the people.
Elder Woodruff: But I have a license to preach the gospel, sir. If you will sit in this chair until the meeting is over, we will talk about this misunderstanding and get it settled.
By the end of the meeting, there was nothing left to settle.
Constable: I, too, wish to be baptized, Elder Woodruff.
Four ministers: So do we.

An example of that happy, optimistic spirit is a 13-year-old girl I know named Elsa, whose family is moving to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, 1,800 miles (2,900 km) away from her friends. It’s not very easy when you are 13 to move to a new place. Elsa was understandably unsure about the move, so her dad gave her a blessing. At the very moment of the blessing, her mom’s phone chimed with a text. The young women who live in Louisiana had sent this picture with the caption “Please move into our ward!”10
These young women were optimistic they would like Elsa without even meeting her. Their enthusiasm created optimism in Elsa about the upcoming move and answered her prayer about whether everything would be all right.

My assistants recently had an experience that bears this out. Occasionally they go to a Vietnamese restaurant close to our office in Honolulu.

Being the good missionaries they are, they contact everyone, including every waitress who ventures close. They had been served by a young woman and had attempted to share a gospel message with her on a few occasions, but she had not shown any interest.

One day a few weeks ago, these elders were eating dinner when this waitress came over to their table and simply said, "OK, I'm not happy! Why are you so happy?" She could tell there was something different about them; that they had something she didn't have. She is currently attending church and being taught by missionaries in Honolulu.

That experience made it somewhat easier for me to make a difficult decision just one year later. Again Christmas time had come. We were preparing for the oven a gigantic turkey and anticipating the savory feast that awaited. A neighborhood pal of mine asked a startling question: “What does turkey taste like?”

I responded, “Oh, about like chicken tastes.”

Again a question: “What does chicken taste like?”

It was then that I realized that my friend had never eaten chicken or turkey. I asked what his family was going to have for Christmas dinner. There was no prompt response—just a downcast glance and the comment, “I dunno. There’s nothing in the house.”

I pondered a solution. There was none. I had no turkeys, no chickens, no money. Then I remembered I did have two pet rabbits. Immediately I took my friend by the hand and rushed to the rabbit hutch, placed the rabbits in a box, and handed the box to him with the comment, “Here, take these two rabbits. They’re good to eat—just like chicken.”

He took the box, climbed the fence, and headed for home, a Christmas dinner safely assured. Tears came easily to me as I closed the door to the empty rabbit hutch. But I was not sad. A warmth, a feeling of indescribable joy, filled my heart. It was a memorable Christmas.

Many know Elder Clark G. Gilbert as president of BYU–Pathway Worldwide and as past president of Brigham Young University–Idaho. Many also know him for his innovative development of online higher education programs at both institutions.
Elder Clark credits meaningful Church service—helping young men in inner-city Boston, Massachusetts, USA—for preparing him to take educational opportunities to larger audiences. That service opportunity came as he was busy with graduate school and caring for a young family.
“Those young men didn’t always have a lot of support. They became a part of our lives, and we grew to love them,” he said. “I learned to listen to the Lord and knew He was in their lives. I could hear Him telling me what I needed to do for them.”
Elder Gilbert said the Lord taught him about the needs of other people. “It wasn’t just that He was preparing me for education, but He was showing me what He could do in the lives of people at a deep, personal level.”

Let me illustrate with a personal experience. In 1990 our family moved to a very small community in southeast Ohio called The Plains. On the first night, someone broke into our car and took everything they wanted to keep. When I discovered the theft, several thoughts came immediately to mind:

“If I had only parked closer to the house and away from the street.”
“It’s my own fault; I should have locked the car doors.”
“How naïve of me to think we were safe just because this is a small, rural town.”
“If I had been more alert, I could have prevented this from happening.”

Do you see how I took responsibility for a crime committed by someone else? No matter where I had parked, how naïve I had been, or whether I had locked the doors or not, no one has the right to take things from my car without my permission. I was not responsible for the theft. Yet I automatically took the blame because I could imagine things that I thought I should have done differently.

This is a common response to victimization.35 Similarly, in the much more serious and harmful case of sexual assault, when one’s agency and ability to determine what happens to their own body are disregarded, the victim may automatically respond to the situation with feelings of guilt or shame because they can imagine ways in which they think they could have or should have avoided the situation. After an assault, a victim may attempt to reestablish a sense of control and order to their life by taking some of the blame for what happened.