Gospel Story Finder

Residents of Louisville, Kentucky, got an insight into the spirit of LDS missionaries after a tornado hit their city. The storm had no sooner ripped and twisted its way through town than elders from the Kentucky Louisville Mission traded their tracts, white shirts, and ties for work clothes, axes, hatchets, and muscle power and started helping to clean up. Theirs was only a small part of the immense cleanup operation, but no one worked harder at it. Of course, that was no big thing to them. Missionaries have always been among the hardest working people in the world.

In my own lifetime I have been a witness to the miracle of the restored gospel. When I was a young girl my family moved to São Paulo, Brazil, where my father had been called to preside over the Brazilian Mission. It was an exciting time for me and a great place to grow up. A favorite game for my brothers and me was to dress up and pretend to be missionaries. We spent hours scribbling our own missionary pamphlets and “preaching” and “transferring” all over the yard. For five years the nightly conversations around our dinner table centered on missionary work, and I listened intently to stories of faith told by missionaries. Even at that age I knew I was part of a great work.
There were only about 3,000 members of the Church in Brazil when we arrived there. I remember being in a very small Primary with a few other children, singing the same five songs every week, as those were the only ones translated into Portuguese. Two of my favorite songs were “A Luz Divina,” or “The Light Divine” (Hymns, no. 305), and something about a bunny in the middle of the woods (see “The Little Rabbit,” Children’s Friend, June 1955, 257).
In many ways our experience was similar to the early pioneers. We had no hymnbooks or pictures or lesson manuals sent from the headquarters of the Church. Everything that was needed to teach the gospel in Portuguese was written and printed in our mission home. All of us, even the children, were pressed into service to help assemble mission newsletters and lessons. No one shipped the Church to us. The prophet did not send us stake presidents or bishops. He did not send Relief Society presidents or youth programs. The Church in Brazil was made from the same material that the pioneers started with. The material to build the Church was in the people.
During our years in Brazil, we saw great growth come to the Church. Thousands became Latter-day Saints. Soon the mission was divided, districts and branches were organized, and new chapels were built. The new members were enthusiastic, and they grew in faith and became more experienced in the manner of the gospel.

The first Christmas I experienced on my mission in France was very enjoyable. We were invited to celebrate with a wonderful member family, and I felt comfortable and at home. But the second Christmas stands out in my memory and will always be precious to me.
The thrill of the holiday season was in the air in the small French town where I was serving: Christmas music in the stores, advertisements everywhere, and Christmas cards in the mail.
A few days before Christmas the missionaries in our zone went caroling in the buses, metro stations, and shopping malls. We tried to share the joy of Christmas with our French brothers and sisters by singing carols, handing out brochures, and presenting copies of the Book of Mormon wrapped in Christmas paper. We wished the people a very merry Christmas. Just like the previous year, we were planning to spend Christmas Eve at a member family’s home. My companion and I had received an invitation and were looking forward to a wonderful homemade Christmas dinner.
On 24 December we worked hard the entire morning. When we returned home for lunch, we received a call from the family who had invited us for dinner that evening. They had to cancel the appointment because of a death in the family. We couldn’t go to their home because of their family commitments, so we tried to comfort them as best we could over the telephone. After we hung up, I realized this was going to be a very lonely Christmas Eve. The other elders in our apartment had been invited elsewhere. We ate our lunch and left again to work.
The evening fell, and a cold wind blew. As I looked at the Christmas trees lit up in warm homes—homes filled with happy faces—my thoughts wandered home to my own family in the Netherlands. They would be sitting together, singing Christmas carols, and reading the story of the Nativity. Then they would listen to Christmas music while my dad lit the candles on our Christmas tree. All of a sudden I felt very homesick.
We returned to our apartment, and I sat down at my desk, feeling very sorry for myself. I turned on a Mormon Tabernacle Choir Christmas tape and started to write in my journal.
One of the many things I learned on my mission was that those I served with were always my companion for a reason. Such was the case with Elder Wagner. After a while he got up from his desk and said he had a plan. “Why don’t we take some of our wrapped copies of the Book of Mormon, go down to the metro station, and talk to those who also feel lonely on Christmas Eve?” he suggested. I said I would join him, although I was pretty reluctant about the whole idea. I just wanted to sit in my chair and feel sorry for myself.
We left our apartment and started walking toward the metro. The closer we got to the station, the more I felt this wasn’t such a bad idea and might possibly turn out to be a good experience. When we boarded the metro, it was nearly empty. A few people were scattered about. I approached a man who was sitting alone by a window. Introducing myself, I asked if we could join him. He agreed. We started talking about families—his family, my family—and Christmas. He told me he was a refugee and had had to leave his country and his family. He told me about his wife and child and how much he missed them. Though our situations weren’t the same, I could sympathize because my family was also far away. Then I started talking about Jesus Christ, how much He meant to me, and how much Christmas meant to me. “The Savior came to earth,” I testified.
Instantly there was a fire burning in my soul. I felt the same burning sensation later that evening while I talked and testified of Jesus Christ to other people on the metro. When my companion and I finally left to return to our apartment, I was filled with a wonderful sense of appreciation. As we discussed the events of that evening I learned that my companion was feeling the same thing. We had truly felt the spirit of Christmas, and I felt as if my heart would burst with joy. The Savior was born in Bethlehem for me and for the entire world! How blessed I felt to have the gospel in my life and to have felt His love for me that night.
It was a Christmas I will always cherish, for it was on that Christmas Eve I finally learned what Christmas is all about. It is about Christ and sharing my precious testimony of the living Son of God.

There’s something different about Kory Cecil, Melissa Hinson, and Stephanie Shaw of Davidson County, North Carolina. Everyone in town notices it. Could it be that they’re the only LDS girls in their high school?
They were nominated to be the representatives of the sophomore, junior, and senior classes, respectively, on the homecoming court. When they were presented to the public, the whole town got an earful of the girls’ church activities and positions, on the loud speaker. It prompted at least one friend to tell Melissa she wanted to hear more about the gospel.

“My older brother, Ron, has always been an inspiration to me. I recall one evening when he came home from a church youth meeting and announced to the family that his teacher had told him that he had to gain his own testimony and receive his own witness and to not rely on that of others. He said—almost prophetically—‘I’m going to gain that personal witness and testimony, no matter how long it takes or what the cost.’

“Ron began reading and studying the scriptures and fasting and praying. One morning a short time later, he was suddenly stricken by a paralysis. He could not move his body and his right side was in terrible pain. He was barely able to whisper to Dad that he wanted a blessing. No sooner had Dad finished blessing his son than Ron was miraculously cured! My brother uncoiled his tense body, straightened up, and was free of pain.

“When he was later examined by a doctor, the diagnosis was that he had had what appeared to be a ruptured appendix but that no trace of damaged tissue was found in his body. Later, my brother told me that during this experience he received his special witness from the Holy Ghost that the Book of Mormon and the gospel were true. He wanted me to know, however, that he had received this knowledge from the Spirit before Dad had blessed him and before his healing. He truly had shown faith before the miracle.”

Jim Turner, an artist from the Lismore Ward in the Gold Coast Australia Stake, has achieved a milestone in his artistic journey. His oil painting The 1988 Bicentennial Naval Review will soon be on permanent display at the Royal Australian Navy Heritage Centre, the Maritime Museum of the Royal Australian Navy in Sydney. This monumental work, measuring 12 feet (3.6 m) long by 5 feet (1.5 m) high, includes a life-size portrait of Vice Admiral M. W. Hudson, who served as the Chief of Naval Staff in 1988.
Born in New South Wales, Brother Turner felt inspired by this event, recognizing its importance to Australian history. He was determined to create a work of art that would capture not only the grandeur of the naval review but also the spirit of unity it evoked.
Completed on November 4, 1988, The 1988 Bicentennial Naval Review was publicly exhibited only once, during a week-long exhibition that opened on December 3, 1988, by Senator Bronwyn Bishop. For years afterward, the painting awaited a permanent home where it could be appreciated by the public.
In 2024, Brother Turner was inspired to find a suitable home for his work. Through persistence and prayer, he contacted the Royal Australian Navy Heritage Centre. Although the museum was undergoing renovations, the centre accepted the painting for display in its new facility, which reopened in February 2025.
The museum will include Jim’s painting among its exhibits documenting the history of the Royal Australian Navy, from the First Fleet to the present day. Brother Turner’s painting will enrich the museum’s collection and the public’s understanding of this pivotal moment in Australia’s maritime history.
Brother Turner’s journey with this painting is a testimony of faith, persistence, and divine guidance.
Brother Turner reflects on the role of divine guidance throughout his journey. “I felt prompted to find a suitable home for people to view my painting of the Bicentennial Naval Review,” he said. “I have a firm testimony that if we do all that we possibly can, the Lord will provide the way and the means for us to accomplish whatever He has asked us to do.”
For Brother Turner, this painting is more than a depiction of a national event; it is a manifestation of faith and perseverance. He likens this experience to life’s daily challenges: “Be it a major work, like a 12-foot-long painting, or just completing simple daily tasks, [life is] made easier through the guidance of the Spirit.”
Brother Turner’s story is a reminder that God can magnify our talents to fulfil His purposes. Whether capturing a historic event on canvas or fulfilling a spiritual prompting to preserve it for others, his journey stands as a powerful example of trusting in the Lord’s timing and guidance. It proves that the Lord’s hand is evident in every aspect of our lives.

Alex (name has been changed) was one of my first encounters as a bishop with a young sister who wanted to receive her endowment but wondered if she was ready since she wasn’t getting married or preparing to serve a mission.

However, when Alex met with me, she shared that she had felt inspired to start preparing to enter the temple anyway and spoke of her desire to deepen her faith. As I continued to meet with her, I saw that she met every qualification to receive her endowment, and we worked together until she was able to reach her goal.

As I sought revelation on the matter and studied the handbook, I received reaffirmation of the truth that a young adult’s readiness to go through the temple is often a matter of their heart and their desire to come closer to the Lord.

Mylea Moua’s cousins make fun of her for going to church. Some of her close family members discourage her church attendance. Her friends at school wonder why she would ever want to be a Latter-day Saint.
Mylea’s challenges are not unique in the Twin Cities Second (Hmong) Branch of the Anoka Minnesota Stake. Many of the youth have less-active parents and nonmember family members who mock their religion. It would be easy for Mylea, a Mia Maid, to just quit coming to church. “A lot of Hmong people ask ‘How can the Church help you?’ They reject it,” she says. “I don’t really care what people think, because how I feel makes me happy. But I feel bad for them because they don’t have the gospel.”
Unlike many of the older Hmong generation in Minnesota, Mylea and the other youth feel it’s possible to be both Hmong and LDS. “I do the best I can and try to be a good example,” she says.
Sandy Yang, the Beehive president, is also doing her best to be a good example, though she says it is more difficult to share the gospel with her family than with her friends. Her parents divorced when she was eight years old. “It was hard, but I felt the warmth of Jesus Christ, and I knew everything was going to be okay,” she says. “I started to come to church more, and I learned the divorce was not about me. It was about my parents.” Sandy’s father is no longer active in the Church, but her mother and some of her brothers and sisters are. She says it’s her testimony that takes her through the hard times and keeps her coming.
Sandy and the other Hmong youth agree that regular scripture study and attending Sunday School really help to strengthen their testimonies. “I guess I know a lot because of the gospel,” says Toua Yang, Sandy’s brother. “Without it I wouldn’t know why I’m here or what I would do after I died.” He credits going to seminary and trying to teach others about the gospel with helping his testimony grow. Toua, a priest, plans to tell more people about the gospel when he goes on a mission in two years.
“We’re kind of the first generation, you know,” Mylea says. Even though many of their parents or even grandparents are members of the Church, the non-Christian Hmong traditions are still a strong influence in their lives.
Most of the older generation of Hmong people in the Anoka Stake are from Laos and Cambodia. The Hmong tradition includes the practice of shamanism, which involves ancestor worship and belief in good and evil spirits that can be summoned by a priest, or shaman. The Hmong culture and shamanism are linked, but are not the same thing, so the Hmong youth try to preserve their heritage while living the gospel and leaving non-Christian traditions behind. But their task is difficult.
Pang Yang, Toua’s sister, says death is the end of existence in the Hmong tradition. She’s happy she knows a better way. “It’s easier because I know what’s wrong and what’s right. The gospel is safer than the Hmong way. I think it’s easy because I know where I’ll go when I die.”
The Hmong youth are looking to the future—trying to rise above the difficulties of the traditions in their homes. Mylea and the others try to bring their younger brothers and sisters to church regularly to establish a tradition of faith in their families. Establishing a gospel tradition is a real goal, says See Moua, Mylea’s sister. “It’s not far now. It makes you want to keep the commandments,” See says.
Pang is also excited about the future. “I really look forward to getting married in the temple. That’s the one thing I really want to do.”
Ultimately, it’s their individual testimonies that keep these Hmong youth active in the Church while they face so much opposition from friends and family. “Sometimes you doubt,” says Mylea. “And I had doubts.” But when she learned more about the life of Joseph Smith and about the gospel, her doubts left her. “Everything was taken away from Joseph Smith, even his own life. Now I know he wasn’t lying.”
The other Hmong youth know challenges to their faith will come, either through their families’ traditions or just from their own doubts. That’s why they keep coming to church—the more they learn and the more they rely on the Lord, the stronger they become in the gospel. They know who they are, why they’re here, and where they’re going. And their testimonies grow stronger with each Sunday School lesson, each seminary class, and each time they choose to keep the Lord’s commandments and standards.
Of all the traditions we should cultivate within ourselves and our families, a ‘tradition of righteousness’ should be preeminent. Hallmarks of this tradition are an unwavering love for God and His Only Begotten Son, respect for prophets and priesthood power, a constant seeking of the Holy Spirit, and the discipline of discipleship which transforms believing into doing. A tradition of righteousness sets a pattern for living which draws children closer to parents, and both closer to God, and elevates obedience from a burden to a blessing” (Ensign, Nov. 2000, 28).—Elder Donald L. Hallstrom of the Seventy

On occasion President Romney has told a delightful story about his wife. He said that he was concerned about his wife and couldn’t get her to go to the doctor, so he consulted with the doctor for advice. The doctor told him to use a simple test that would convince her of the need to see him about her hearing. He told President Romney to go home and call to her from several places, and if she didn’t respond quickly, there would be clear evidence of her need for medical help.
So President Romney went home and called to her from the front door: “Ida!” No answer. Then he moved inside and called, “Ida!” Then he called from the dining room. Still no answer. At last he confronted her in the kitchen and said, “Ida, I have been calling you.” And she replied, “I know, my dear, and I have answered you three times.”
President Romney then went on to say, “The problem wasn’t Ida’s.”

Young Tommy Monson had always wanted a pony. He often admired his friend Henry’s Shetland pony. Wouldn’t he love to have one too!
One December, right before Christmas, Tommy’s mother took him to the toy department of a store in Salt Lake City. The store was going to give away a Shetland pony! To enter the contest, children had to write a note telling why they wanted the pony for Christmas. Tommy carefully wrote his note and placed it in the large box right next to the live pony in the toy department.
Finally the day came when the winner of the pony was going to be announced. Tommy and his mother waited in the excited crowd. Tommy was sure he would win the pony. He had already made a home for it in his sister’s playhouse in the backyard and stacked a pile of hay nearby. But when the name was chosen out of the box, it wasn’t Tommy’s name. Another child took the pony home, and Tommy was heartbroken.
As they left the store, Tommy and his mother walked past a man ringing a bell beside a small kettle to collect money for the poor. Tommy’s mother stopped and dropped in a big silver coin. Then she asked, “Tommy, do you have any money you would like to give to the poor for Christmas?” Tommy reached in his pocket, pulled out two nickels, and dropped them into the kettle, one after the other. It was all the money he had.
President Monson still remembers that day. “I didn’t win the pony,” he recalls. “But I received a far greater gift, even ‘the smile of God’s approval.’” It was a good Christmas after all.

Stirling raced his big brother, Parker, up and down the narrow trail, thrilled to be hiking to an actual waterfall.
The bushes and grass grew so close to the trail that they sometimes scratched his legs when he walked past. He didn’t mind. This hike was going to be great!
“Can I swim in it, Dad?” he asked.
“Probably not,” Dad said.
“It will be too cold,” Mom explained. “And you don’t want to be wet for the hike back.”
Stirling shrugged his shoulders. It would still be fun to splash his older sister, Emma. He’d wait until she wasn’t watching, then wham!
As the morning went on, though, it started getting hot. His legs got tired, and he could feel blisters on his feet.
Stirling frowned. This was longer than he’d ever hiked before. And they still had the whole hike back. Was he going to make it?
But his worries disappeared when he finally heard the waterfall around the corner. He and Parker raced the rest of the way.
When the waterfall came into sight, Stirling skidded to a stop. It was awesome. He couldn’t believe how tall the waterfall was and how much water came crashing down. He forgot all about his tired legs.
After eating lunch, Stirling kicked off his shoes and splashed around the edge of the pool. The water was cold, but it felt great. Emma poured some water on his head, but he got her back with a giant splash of his own.
Before Stirling knew it, it was time to head back. The fun and excitement from the waterfall quickly faded as they started the long hike home. Every step hurt.
“How much longer is it?” Stirling asked. “I’m sooo tired.”
“You can do it,” Mom said. “Just keep moving. You’ll be okay.”
Stirling wasn’t so sure. If his feet hurt this much already, how would he ever make it to the end of the trail?
Soon even Parker and Emma started to complain, until Dad made a suggestion.
“Why don’t we say a prayer?” he asked.
Stirling was happy for any excuse to stop hiking. He folded his arms and bowed his head while Dad prayed. Dad asked Heavenly Father to keep them safe and to help them find the strength to finish their hike.
After the prayer, Stirling had an idea of his own. “Why don’t we sing some Primary songs?” He loved singing. Maybe that would help.
“Great idea,” said Mom.
They sang song after song. Stirling soon forgot about his aching feet and tired legs. He smiled. They just might make it after all.
Suddenly he bumped into Dad, who had stopped right in front of him. Stirling peeked around Dad. His eyes widened. A giant moose was walking across the trail only a few feet away.
Stirling froze. He knew how important it was not to startle wild animals. They could be dangerous.
But the moose only disappeared into the bushes. Stirling sighed in relief. That was a close one.
Down the trail a little way, his family stopped for a drink. “I think that moose knew we were coming because we were singing,” Parker said. “And so we didn’t surprise it.”
“That could have been bad,” added Emma. “Great idea to have us sing, Stirling.”
Stirling paused for a second. Had their singing actually helped them stay safe? After thinking about it for a bit, he realized Heavenly Father had answered their prayer. Not only did singing give them strength to finish the hike, but it kept them safe from danger.
He smiled again. Singing Primary songs was always a good idea.

There is another way we can let our lights shine. Elder Henry B. Eyring said he never told one of his friends about the gospel. One day, he heard that his friend had died. Elder Eyring sometimes wonders if he will meet his friend in heaven and his friend will say, “You knew. Why didn’t you tell me?” Now Elder Eyring shares his testimony with people all over the world. (See “A Voice of Warning,” Liahona, January 1999, 37–40.) When we share the gospel with others, we are letting our lights shine.

This story happened in the USA.
Aisea ran and kicked the ball to his teammate, Timothy. He watched as Timothy swung his foot back and kicked the ball into the goal.
“Score!” Timothy shouted as the ball hit the net.
Aisea cheered. They had won the game!
As he walked off the field, he felt great! But then one of the kids on the other team, Josh, called him a mean name.
Aisea felt surprised and hurt. He didn’t know what to say. He looked down at the ground and walked slowly to his teammates.
“We did it!” Timothy said. “Great pass, Aisea.”
But Aisea didn’t feel great. Not after what Josh said to him! He felt sad and angry.
The rest of the day, Aisea felt like a heavy weight was pulling him down. He did not like Josh anymore.
That night, Aisea sat with his family during scripture time. He tried to listen to his sister read. But he couldn’t stop thinking about what Josh said.
Aisea looked through the pages of his Book of Mormon. He stopped at a scripture in 1 Nephi. It was about a time when Nephi’s brothers were unkind to him.
“And it came to pass that I did frankly forgive them,” the scripture said.*
Nephi forgave his brothers? Aisea thought. Even after they were so mean?
Aisea thought about Josh. He didn’t want to hold onto his bad feelings for Josh forever. He was only 10!
Aisea wanted to be like Nephi. He could forgive Josh, just like Nephi forgave his brothers. And if Josh said something mean again, he would just ask him not to.
He felt warm and peaceful inside. It was like the Holy Ghost was saying, “You’re doing the right thing.”
“Aisea, what did you learn from these scriptures?” Mom asked.
Aisea looked up. “Sorry, I was reading a different scripture,” he said. He told his family what happened at soccer.
Mom and Dad pulled Aisea into a hug. “I’m sorry Josh was mean to you,” Dad said. “What he said was not true. But it’s OK to feel hurt by it.”
Aisea smiled. “Thanks. For a while I was really angry. But now that I’ve read the scriptures, I don’t want to be mad at him. I want to forgive him. And I already feel better!”
“That’s wonderful!” Mom smiled too. “Forgiving isn’t always easy. But you’re right. It is worth it.”
Aisea looked down at his scriptures. They had helped him! The heavy weight from before was gone. His heart felt warm and full of peace instead.

When I was seven years old, I saw a picture in a Bible of Jesus getting baptized. I thought it would be cool to get baptized too. One morning I told my mom, “Look at this picture of Jesus. He’s getting baptized. Why am I not baptized?” After that, we started looking around at churches to join.
That same year, I got sick with leukemia. Doctors found a lymphoma on my chest, and I had to stay in the hospital for three weeks. After that, I would go to the hospital for four days and then go home for 10 days. I did that six times. Going through chemotherapy was really bad, but it made the tumor shrink. Later I got fungal pneumonia and had to spend more time in the hospital.
When my mom was young, she was an active member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When I got sick, she started reading the Book of Mormon again. My family took the missionary discussions later, and we all started going to church. My dad got baptized first. After he got the priesthood, he baptized my brothers and me. My sisters weren’t old enough yet. Getting baptized made me feel really good even though by then most of my hair had fallen out because of my chemotherapy.
During that time, I prayed a lot. When I prayed, I felt like it wasn’t the end of the world. I got lots of priesthood blessings. They were really good and helped me with my faith. Medicine helped me too.
For a while, I didn’t feel like getting out of bed or doing much, but I told my mom I knew that Heavenly Father was going to protect me. I just had a feeling I would get better. I saw that the doctors were super confident. That made me confident too.
My brothers and sisters helped me feel better when I would come home from the hospital. It was nice to play with them. They had faith that I would get better.
I was still sick when I started tae kwon do. It’s really fun, and it’s what I like to do. I couldn’t go to tae kwon do class during flu season because I had to watch my immune system. Tae kwon do helped me not think about being sick. I have my green belt now, and I want to get my black belt. That will take me a few more years.
In March 2019, I finished the chemotherapy and my last round of steroids. I feel really good about not having to do that anymore.
If someone is having a challenge or is really sick, I would say to read the Book of Mormon and have faith that Heavenly Father has a plan for us. That will help them. It’s pretty bad if someone is sick and doesn’t get better, but at least they will see Heavenly Father sometime soon. He knows what’s best for us.
The author lives in Alabama, USA.

When I began preparing this talk, I did all the things I knew I should do: I went to the temple, I fasted, I read the scriptures, I prayed. And I wrote a talk. But, sisters, when you choose to write about charity, you need to feel charitable. And I didn’t. And so, after many prayers and tears, there came a realization to my mind that I had to ask forgiveness of those who, unbeknownst to them, were the cause of my uncharitable thoughts. It was hard. But it was healing. And I testify to you that the Lord’s Spirit returned.

Editor’s note: What started out as a fun activity turned into a small test of faith for some high school friends. Afterward, they shared what they were thinking at the time, and how one small but significant choice helped them all. Here is the same story, told from three points of view.
Sam: I was eager to go to the comedy club. A couple of my friends that I trust had been there previously, and they said it was funny and that all of the jokes were clean. So we were all excited and looking forward to a night of fun.
When the show started, the comedian was funny. He told some good jokes, but after a span of about 15 minutes his humor took a heavy turn downward. His jokes turned dirty. I was feeling super uncomfortable.
Carrie: I had heard of this comedy place and was excited to go. As the show began, it was good, clean comedy. But soon after, the humor grew more crass and inappropriate. I wanted to get up and leave, but I struggled with the decision because I knew my date had spent quite a bit of money on the tickets. I started to feel more and more uneasy.
Jake: When crude humor started to take the main stage at the comedy club, I was uneasy. When the comic started to make sacrilegious comments about the Church, I felt uncomfortable and thought about leaving. But somehow silly ideas crept into my head—I had just spent money to get in, everyone would laugh at us or think we weren’t mature enough to handle the humor, and my date wasn’t LDS. What would she think if I stood up to leave?
All this left me sitting indecisively in my seat. Looking back now, I’m embarrassed that I let a couple of worldly rationalizations get in the way of my spiritual courage. Once the bad jokes started coming, I should have left immediately; it’s as simple as that.
Sam: I turned to Carrie, and asked, “Are you ready to go?” I said it more as a statement than a question. I knew I was with a wonderful girl, and I was pleased when, with a smile on her face, she said, “Yeah, let’s go.”
Carrie: Then, to my rescue, my date Sam turned and whispered, “Are you ready to go?” I was so relieved! It was the answer to my silent prayer! We got up and left the theater.
Sam: I took her to the exit and then went quietly to the seats where my friend Jake was sitting with his date. I leaned down and whispered, “We’ve had enough. We’ll be out in the parking lot.” We waited outside for the show to end.
Jake: This is where the importance of having good friends comes in. As I sat there doing nothing, amidst the jokes, a finger tapped my shoulder. I turned to see my best friend crouched down behind me and pointing to the door. “I can’t handle this guy any longer,” he said, “We’ll be waiting in the parking lot.”
Sam: In the parking lot we started talking a little bit about what had happened, but not 30 seconds had passed when I heard the door open. I looked back to see Jake with his date, and all of my friends with their dates, walking out into the parking lot. Not a whole lot was said about what had happened, but we all knew we had done the right thing.
Carrie: It wasn’t necessary to wait, however, because shortly after we left, the rest of the group filed out of the theater. I had the most incredible feeling in my heart at that moment. I was so grateful for the example my date had set, grateful for his great respect for me. He was a guardian of truth and virtue that night, and that was more important than getting his money’s worth out of an inappropriate show.
I will forever remember and be grateful for that night and the experience I had. Sam is a close friend. He was known throughout the high school student body as being a good guy. He was full of integrity and virtue, so it was no surprise to me that he did what he did that night.
Jake: At that moment my friend became my hero. He left. Then I, along with our other friends, followed. My date knew we had high standards and recognized that we felt uncomfortable with the jokes, so she went along with our decision. I predicted the comedian would make fun of us for leaving, and he did. “But who really cares?” I said to myself as we left the room.
I’m grateful for the example my friend set by leaving that night. He had the courage to act, and I don’t know if I would have done the same thing had he not been there. Once he did the right thing, many others followed. Never underestimate the importance of friendship. Live your life so that you can be a role model to others, as Sam was to me.

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

Inspiring is the missionary service rendered by Walter Krause, who lives in Prenzlau, Germany.
Homeless following World War II, like so many others at that time, Brother Krause and his family lived in a refugee camp in Cottbus and began to attend church there. He was immediately called to lead the Cottbus Branch. Four months later, in November of 1945, the country still in ruins, district president Richard Ranglack came to Brother Krause and asked him what he would think about going on a mission. Brother Krause’s answer reflects his commitment to the Church. Said he: “I don’t have to think about it at all. If the Lord needs me, I’ll go.”
He set out on December 1, 1945, with 20 German marks in his pocket and a piece of dry bread. One of the branch members had given him a winter coat left over from a son who had fallen in the war. Another member, who was a shoemaker, gave him a pair of shoes. With these and with two shirts, two handkerchiefs, and two pairs of stockings, he left on his mission.
Once, in the middle of winter, he walked from Prenzlau to Kammin, a little village in Mecklenburg, where 46 attended the meetings which were held. He arrived long after dark that night after a six-hour march over roads, paths, and finally across plowed fields. Just before he reached the village, he came to a large, white, flat area which made for easy walking, and he soon arrived at a member’s home to stay the night.
The next morning the game warden knocked on the door of the member’s house, asking, “Do you have a guest?”
“Yes,” came the reply.
The game warden continued, “Then come and take a look at his tracks.” The large, flat area on which Brother Krause had walked was actually a frozen lake, and some time earlier the warden had chopped a large hole in the middle of the lake for fishing. The wind had driven snow over the hole and covered it so that Brother Krause could not have seen his danger. His tracks went right next to the edge of the hole and straight to the house of the member, without his knowing anything about it. Weighed down by his backpack and his rubber boots, he would certainly have drowned had his pathway been one step closer to the hole he couldn’t see.

Six-year-old Alma Elizabeth Mineer looked around the dark insides of the huge sailing ship, where a flickering oil lamp served as a night-light. In the shadows she could barely see some of the other passengers asleep in their berths.
She liked to listen to the night sounds. As the ship gently rocked from one side to the other, its big wooden beams creaked and groaned. Mothers sang softly to quiet their children. Although Alma could not always understand the words, she discovered that English and German and Swedish and Norwegian and Danish babies all cried in the same noisy language! Sometimes before falling asleep, Alma felt sad thinking about her home and friends and village in Sweden that she had left behind.
During the daytime Alma Elizabeth liked to climb up the stairs and walk out on the deck. At the front of the ship she would look and look, trying to see America. But day after day all she could see was the Atlantic Ocean in every direction.
Alma Elizabeth liked to watch the huge canvas sails puff full with the wind. She wished she could climb up the ropes like the sailors did. New friends often invited her to play games with them. Occasionally she tried out new English words. When they reached Utah, she knew she would have to speak English instead of Swedish.
Sometimes Alma Elizabeth crept into the part of the ship where the sailors lived. She became a favorite of the crew’s cook. He often gave her special treats, and she liked that because her family’s meals were not too tasty. They could cook only five meals each week. And the sea biscuits were so hard that she had to stomp on them with her shoes to break them open.
For five weeks in May and June of 1861, their ship, the Monarch of the Sea, sailed across the Atlantic. When it finally docked in New York harbor, little boats took the Latter-day Saint immigrants ashore. They all stayed overnight in a giant hall called Castle Gardens.
That night while the children tried to sleep on the floor of the building, Alma Elizabeth’s brother August discovered some sacks of brown sugar right next to him. One had a small hole in it and was spilling its contents. Alma Elizabeth and August had tasted no sugar or candy during the ocean voyage. So August found a spoon. Soon they had had a grand feast. But by morning they were sick!
Alma Elizabeth, with her family and the other Saints, took a long train trip to Iowa. There they joined wagon trains going to Utah. She walked the entire way, except when she got into a wagon to cross a deep river.
Alma Elizabeth’s father had trouble walking. In Sweden he had been a concert violinist and an orchestra director. Then rheumatism crippled him. Slowly he learned to use his hands and feet again, but it was difficult and painful. Elizabeth’s father was unable to keep up with the wagon train, and he insisted that his family go on ahead, promising to catch up with them.
Her father struggled on until he spotted a light. It was a camp of soldiers on their way to the Civil War. One soldier spoke Swedish. When they learned that Alma Elizabeth’s father was a musician, they found a violin and he played it for them. In the morning they took him on horseback and caught up with the wagon train.
When Alma Elizabeth’s family reached Utah they settled in Mount Pleasant. As a pioneer she worked hard. She learned how to card and spin wool, weave carpets, milk cows, knit and crochet, make gloves out of buckskin, weave hats out of braided straw, stack hay, and bundle wheat.
One time she collected wheat left in the fields after the harvest and sold it for $10. With some of the money, she bought ten yards of calico for her first party dress.
The day Alma Elizabeth turned eight years old she saw some elders baptizing people in a nearby creek. Her folks did not know about the baptismal service, so she ran home to tell them. With their permission she, too, was baptized in the creek. Afterward she walked to the meetinghouse to be confirmed. But after the confirmation, she felt very tired and fell sound asleep on a seldom-used church bench where people could not see her. When the meeting ended everyone went home. Alma Elizabeth’s family became concerned about her long absence, and they sent her big sister Helen to search for her. She found Alma Elizabeth still asleep in the now empty meetinghouse.
On a hot July day when Alma Elizabeth was ten years old, she went to a ward meeting. The people felt very discouraged because their crops needed rain. President Brigham Young came to the meeting, and she listened carefully when he rose to his feet and spoke. He promised the people that if they would listen to his words, the Lord would open the heavens and send the rains.
The words hardly left the prophet’s lips when Alma Elizabeth noticed the gathering clouds. Soon they filled the sky, and rain poured down in torrents. On that day she received a great testimony of the gospel that she remembered all her life.

My grandparents have had a great influence on my life. Even though they have been dead for many years, I still feel their love. One grandfather, James Akerley Faust, died before I was born. I knew him only through the stories my grandmother and my parents told about him. However, I feel a strong kinship with him because I am in part what he was. Among other things, he was a cowboy, a rancher, and a postmaster in a small town in central Utah. On one occasion Grandfather took a trip in the winter to Idaho, where he met an acquaintance who had fallen on hard times. It was cold, and Grandfather’s friend had no coat. Grandfather took off his coat and gave it to him.