Gospel Story Finder

Illustration by Julia Yellow
When I was 15 years old, I gained a strong testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ and was so happy to join the Church. At the time, I was working to help support my family. Not long after I was baptized, however, I lost my job.
I needed to find a new job soon because my family depended on me, but every job I applied for required that I work on Sundays. I turned down many job offers because I knew that I needed to be at church on Sundays (see D&C 59:9–10).
After two months of searching, I still hadn’t found a job. My mom was not a member of the Church, and although she believed in God, she was very angry that I was passing up so many jobs.
One night she looked at me with tears in her eyes and asked, “Why is God letting this happen to us when you are so faithful in doing what is right?”
I replied, “Mom, I don’t know why this is happening to us, but I do know that I am doing the right thing, and I know that God will bless us for it.”
The next morning someone offered me a considerable amount of money to spend two days moving some heavy cargo from one house to another. The work was strenuous, but when I received the money, I went straight home and offered a prayer of gratitude. I soon found a good job that allowed me to take Sundays off, and I haven’t been unemployed since.
I am glad that I chose to keep the Sabbath day holy. There are many challenges in life, but I know that if we strive to be strong despite those challenges, the Lord will bless us.
Sahil Sharma, India

At age 14, young Ezra T. took over management of the family’s dairy herd while his father was away on a three-year mission. He remembers sitting around the kitchen table, listening to his mother read the letters his father sent home. Reminiscing about listening to those letters, he said, “There came into that home a spirit of missionary work that never left it, and later seven sons, all of them, went on missions, to their blessing and the blessing of their posterity” (Glasgow Scotland Area Conference, June 21, 1976).

Sam pushed through the doors of the restaurant. His stomach grumbled. He was so hungry! This restaurant made the best fried chicken ever. His family often came here after soccer practice.
Sam and Mom walked to the counter to order. “Hi, Emma!” said Sam. Emma was their favorite server. She was always friendly and nice.
“How was soccer practice?” Emma asked with a big smile.
“It was great. We’re going to win our next game!” Sam said.
“You’ll have to tell me all about it,” Emma said.
Sam grinned, and his family placed their order.
The next week Sam’s team did win! He couldn’t wait to tell Emma. But Emma wasn’t at the restaurant.
She wasn’t there the next week either. Sam missed seeing her.
A few weeks later, Sam’s family came to the restaurant again. Sam saw Emma cleaning tables. He hurried over to say hello.
“You’re back!” said Sam. “We’ve missed you.”
“We are so happy to see you again,” Mom said.
“Thank you.” Emma kind of smiled. But her eyes looked really sad.
“Are you OK?” Sam asked.
“No. My husband passed away. That’s why I haven’t been here.”
Mom gave Emma a hug. Seeing Emma sad made Sam sad too.
When their food was ready, Sam helped carry the tray to their table. He couldn’t stop thinking about how sad Emma looked. He sat down but didn’t feel like eating anything. He wanted to help her feel better. But what could he do?
Then Sam remembered something. Their bishop had given little cards to all the families at church. The cards showed what times people could watch general conference on TV or listen on the radio. The bishop said that conference was a wonderful time to feel peace.
“Mom, can we give Emma a card for general conference?” Sam asked. If Emma watched conference, maybe that would help her feel a little better.
“That’s a great idea.” Mom reached into her purse and pulled out a card. “Here,” she said. “You can give her this one.”
Sam took the card from Mom. He walked to the counter and asked the worker if he could talk with Emma.
“I’m sorry, but she’s busy right now,” the man said.
“That’s OK,” said Sam. “Could you give this to her? It’s an invitation to watch a special conference for my church.” Sam handed the man the card. “You can watch too, if you want!”
The man smiled. “Thanks! I’ll be sure to get this to her.”
When Sam walked back to their table, he felt warm inside.
“How did it go?” Mom asked.
“Emma was busy, so I gave the card to another worker to give to her,” said Sam. “Now two people will see the card! Maybe they will both watch conference and feel peace.”
This story took place in Guam.

Perhaps the largest challenge for Vaea, however, was getting to the temple to be sealed. He and his girlfriend had decided to get married, and they both wanted to get married in the temple. But the closest temple at the time was in New Zealand, and the cost of getting there was tremendous.
“For a whole year we fasted together every Tuesday to find a way to make it to the temple. She was still living on an island in the north; I was in Ha‘apai. It was difficult. But then two businessmen heard our story, and they felt inspired to help. They actually paid for our trip. They said that if we truly wanted to be married in the temple, they would provide the way. I did not have any property or even a job so I could pay them back, but they did not want anything. It was a tremendous blessing.”

Steve Crandall sat bolt upright in bed.
“Your mother’s pains have started.” His father’s face was lined with worried creases. “Can you come help me clear the road to the highway?”
Steve was already struggling to pull on long underwear, sweaters, socks, pants, parka, boots, muffler, gloves. His heart was racing.
Shoveling snow, opening the garage door, starting the jeep, hitching the drag, swinging open the jeep door for his father—Steve fumbled with numb fingers while his heart beat with the fury of the wind swirling up the snow drifts.
Through the roar and clanking of the old jeep, his father shouted, “Take it easy, Steve. We’ll make it. Your mother has had nine kids before this, including you.”
Steve was glad to be able to hide his face in the parka hood. He was quiet for a moment. Then he let his memory wander and thought back to the time when Mom had Julie. There had been no special precautions that time; Dad had just helped Mom to the car, and they drove off to the hospital.
That seemed a long time ago and many miles away in a place where everything was so much different. This was Alaska. It was 50° F. below zero. The hospital was 51 miles away, and there was no telephone in their house. This time Dad paused to give Mom a priesthood blessing before helping her to the car. This time, Dad, Steve, and his two sisters prayed together in the car that they would make it down the road before the baby came. But this time, too, when it was all over and little Rachael took her place in the Crandall clan, 16-year-old Steve felt older somehow. It was as if he had been a part of something that was much more real than he had ever experienced before.

The orange car was wonderful. It had four doors, air conditioning, and no rust holes. It got us through graduate school and on to our first job. But after six years of driving and an additional 80,000 miles (129,000 km), it was now the ugly car I drove to work. The shiny orange paint was looking blotchy from sun exposure, the air conditioning no longer worked, the driver’s side window wouldn’t go down, and my mother was once again shopping for a new car (legitimately this time). The trade-in value of her old car was so little that my parents decided to give it to us.
In the midst of our pleasure in having a newer car, we wondered what to do with the orange car. Yes, it was ugly, but the engine ran reliably. We could get a few dollars for it at a junkyard, but we both felt we should look for someone to whom we could give it.
On Sunday morning I went into the clerk’s office to ask the ward clerk if he needed a car. He and his wife had several teens. He smiled and said no thanks; he didn’t need another car. In the corner of the office, however, was a ward member writing something. He perked up at the mention of a car, so I went through the long list of things that didn’t work. But I assured him it had good tires, the engine was reliable, and it couldn’t be too bad since it had always been driven by a full-tithe payer.
He and his wife had only one car, and he worked nights while she worked days. He had turned down better employment opportunities because he would have needed the car when his wife also needed it. A second car would permit them to increase their income and open up advancement potential for him. So we gave them the old orange car.
This would have remained just a fond memory if it hadn’t been for our conversation three months later. This ward member and his wife wanted us to know more about their circumstances when we gave them the car. As is often the case with young couples, money was scarce, and with the birth of their first child, expenses had increased more rapidly than income. They had gotten behind in their tithing and had felt awful about it. With each passing month they felt worse, but they didn’t see a way out of their dilemma. They had gone six months without paying tithing, and they had prayed and felt that they just had to make things right with the Lord. That Sunday morning when I walked into the clerk’s office, he had been writing out his tithing check, wondering how he was going to meet his financial obligations through the coming month.
My first thought was embarrassment at my joke about the car having been driven by a full-tithe payer. But as I reflected on the situation, I marveled at how the Lord keeps His promises when we keep ours. The ink wasn’t even dry on his check when the means to resolve his dilemma unwittingly walked through the door.
I have often looked back at the example of faith shown by this young couple. It comforts me to know that if I show faith, someone somewhere can be in the right place at the right time to help solve my dilemmas. How grateful I am for a Father in Heaven who knows us so well that He can bless us even before we have finished demonstrating our faith.

One day I was listening to a talk given by a young woman who was preparing to go on a mission. In her talk she emphasized the fact that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love us very much. Heavenly Father loves us so much that He gives us standards so we can be protected from the world’s damaging traditions and unhealthy habits.
When I got home from church that day, I wrote down in my journal what I had learned. What I didn’t know at the time was that this information would not only add to my conversion process but would also prepare me for a decision that would try my testimony. Two weeks later my dance coach showed us the costume for a certain dance routine, and to my dismay it was too immodest for me to feel comfortable wearing. I decided to ask my coach to either change the costume or take me out of the routine.
I hoped that because I did the right thing, Heavenly Father would soften my coach’s heart and everything would work out without major consequences. Unfortunately, my coach quickly took me out of the routine. I was devastated. Later, my parents reminded me that I had made the best decision. They supported me completely.
I’m glad that I was able to make the right decision and stand up for my values. Heavenly Father gave me certain values to live by because He loves me. Knowing this helped me learn that modesty is very important in ways that I may or may not yet understand. I am grateful to have this knowledge given to me to help me through adversity.

As I recall, Howard Washington Thurman once told a story about his mother, who lived in a community in which this White woman didn’t like the fact that she had a Black neighbor. And she would be mean to Mrs. Thurman. But Mrs. Thurman kept on going to church, rearing her children, being kind to everybody.

One day, [Howard’s] mother told him to get ready to go with her next door to see this lady who was ill. [Mrs. Thurman] cooked a bowl of soup, and they went over to the house. The lady said to her, “Oh, you didn’t have to do all of this.”

And Mrs. Thurman said, “No, but the love of Jesus told me I had to do it.”

And then she said, “Howard, go back over to the house and get those roses I left on the table.”

He came back with these beautiful red roses. And the sick woman said, “Oh my. What florist did you buy those roses from?”

And Mrs. Thurman said: “I didn’t buy those roses from any florist. When you were unkind to me, you would throw the chicken manure from your chicken coop over into my yard. But you didn’t know that while you were throwing the chicken manure, God was preparing the soil for me to grow my roses.”

So that’s what we’ve got to do in the midst of evil. Take the manure but have the faith in God to use it to grow a garden of roses.

That’s what we have to do. Be kind, do the right thing, and love and respect all people. They are God’s opportunity for you to touch their messy situations and leave them better than they were before.

The Holy Ghost can help us in every part of our lives. I learned this in a practical way when I was a college student at Brigham Young University–Hawaii.
At the time, I was working and taking a full schedule of classes. My wife and I also had a small baby to care for. With all these demands on my schedule, I didn’t have much time for studying. I prayed every day for the companionship of Holy Ghost. I needed guidance to help me make the most of my time. I needed assistance understanding the material as well as remembering it later during exams.
One day during class, a professor was writing sets of advanced equations on the whiteboard to illustrate a point. These complex equations didn’t relate to that class, but he wanted to talk about them briefly. After a few minutes the professor erased the board.
My next class was computer science, and we had an exam that day. Those exact equations from the board in my previous class were on the test! What’s truly remarkable is that we had never studied these before in our computer science class. All that memory came back to me from the other class I had attended, and I was able to answer the problem.
When the computer science professor graded the tests, he was so sure nobody answered that specific problem correctly that he automatically marked it wrong for every student. But when I got my paper back, I showed him that the answer I wrote on the paper was correct. It was wonderful.
The Holy Ghost helped me make the most of all my studying opportunities throughout college. I was able to achieve high grades and earn scholarships, which helped me pay for school.

Then we received a referral from Salt Lake City and baptized another man—the first black man to be baptized in our area. He told us he had prayed for a long time for the Lord to send someone to him who could tell him which was the true church. He told us that when we first knocked on his door, he saw a light shining around us—and right then he knew that his prayers had been answered. He was baptized shortly after that.

A little while ago, my bishop invited our ward to think of some weakness or sin that we could figuratively leave at the sacrament table for Jesus Christ to take away. There are sins I’ve carried with me throughout my young adult life that I’ve tried to conquer but haven’t been able to overcome through prayer or my own willpower. Despite my growth throughout the years, I knew I needed to overcome them to continue progressing.
The Sunday after the bishop’s challenge, I decided that I would leave just one of my sins on the sacrament table, a physical representation of the Savior and His atoning sacrifice. As I prepared to take the sacrament, I remembered that the cloth covering it represented His burial cloth, and the bread and water represented His body and blood.
With sincerity and full purpose of heart, I renewed my baptismal covenants and said a prayer in my heart, asking Heavenly Father for help and making a commitment to leave this sin behind. Then something happened I never expected: my desire to sin completely left. I tried this a few more times, and the same thing happened with other sins. Was it too good to be true?
The next week, I knew what sin I wanted to leave at the sacrament table, but I didn’t feel ready to give it up. Looking back, I realize that my heart wasn’t in the place it needed to be. I wasn’t being sincere enough to commit to change. But I realized how much the sin hurt Heavenly Father. I knew I needed to align my will with His and center my life around Him to become free. So I did my best to make that a reality.
I avoided any temptation that could lead to this sin. I changed the way I read my scriptures every day and truly pondered them and applied them to my life. I focused on being sincere in my commitment to change, and I sought every day to seek the Lord’s will over mine. I put Him first, because I knew I couldn’t leave this sin behind without the power of the Savior’s Atonement. By continuing to put Him first, I was able to surrender this sin at the sacrament table. I was finally free from something that had held me back for so many years.
Through this process, I grew closer to my Heavenly Father and my Savior. I imagined Them looking down on me for all of these years with patience and love—knowing, eventually, I would give up the sins that spiritually hampered my progress. And when I was ready to give them up, Jesus Christ would be there to lift me—to take me by the hand and grant me forgiveness and strength. He already provided a way for me to become free from my sins through His Atonement. He paid the price for my weaknesses, mistakes, and sins. I just needed to trust Him.
During this time, I read some words from Elder Richard G. Scott (1928–2015) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles that gave me the little push I needed: “If your life is in disarray and you feel uncomfortable and unworthy … , don’t worry. He already knows about all of that. He is waiting for you to kneel in humility and take the first few steps. Pray for strength. . . . Pray that the love of the Savior will pour into your heart.”1
When we sang “I Stand All Amazed” (my favorite hymn) the next week, each word rang true; I really was amazed—in awe that the things I had struggled with for more than a decade were taken from me. In awe that through the power of the Savior’s Atonement, I could move forward. That He can heal all sins and wounds and leave no trace of them behind. That I didn’t need to be held back by my past.
I still have so much to learn and overcome, but my life is on an upward course. I’m feeling more joy and peace. I’m expressing more gratitude. I’m coming closer to and strengthening my testimony of Heavenly Father and the Savior. Every day that I choose to try again, I come one step closer to Them and the person They know I can be.

Mark Madsen led the Stanford basketball team to the NCAA Final Four last year. He is a tenacious and aggressive player, and it would be easy to assume that basketball is the only thing that matters to such an impressive athlete. But Mark, who served a mission in Spain, says that it’s church, not sports, that gives him the anchor he needs in his life.
“Going to church at the student ward is a huge relief for me, especially after a road trip with the team,” says Mark. “After a few days in a strange city playing against tough guys, it’s nice to come and sing the opening hymn and be with my ward family. I love Sundays.”

Over 30 years ago I was assigned with then-Elder Thomas S. Monson to organize a servicemen’s stake in Europe. We met at Berchtesgaden, Germany, high in the Bavarian Alps. Originally it was a headquarters built by Adolf Hitler in an incomparably beautiful place. Seldom has there been on this earth anyone who has duplicated in personality and purpose the adversary quite as much as did Adolf Hitler. I thought that we had come full circle where that had taken place on that site, and now we were gathered there to organize a stake of Zion.
After we had finished setting apart and completing that organization, we were assigned to go to Berlin for a stake conference. We needed to get from Berchtesgaden high in the Alps down to Munich to the airport.
We got to the airport in ample time for our plane, which was scheduled to leave at about 10:00 in the morning, but it was fogged in. We sat there listening to the announcements for nearly 12 hours. They kept saying they thought the fog would clear. It did not clear.
That night near 10:00, two missionary elders came to the airport. We knew then that the planes would not fly. They told us there was a train leaving Munich for Berlin at midnight. The elders took us to the train station, helped us buy our tickets, and saw us aboard the train, which would take from about midnight until about 10:00 the next morning to arrive in Berlin.
As the train was pulling out, one young elder said, “Do you have any German money?”
I shook my head no.
He said, “You better have some,” and, running alongside, pulled from his pocket a 20-mark note. He handed that to me.
At that time the Iron Curtain was very “iron.” The train stopped at Hof on the border between West Germany and East Germany, and the crews were changed. All of the West German crew members got off the train, and the East German crew got on the train. Then the train set out across East Germany toward Berlin.
The U.S. government had just begun to issue five-year passports. I had a new passport, a five-year passport. Before our trip, we went to have my wife’s passport renewed, but they sent it back saying that the three-year passports were honored as a five-year passport. She still had more than two years left on her passport.
At about two o’clock in the morning, a conductor, a military-type soldier, came and asked for our tickets, and then, noting that we were not German, he asked for our passports. I do not like to give up my passport, especially in unfriendly places. But he took them. I almost never dislike anybody, but I made an exception for him! He was a surly, burly, ugly man.
We spoke no German. In the train compartment, there were six of us: my wife and a German sitting to the side of her and then almost knee to knee in a bench facing us were three other Germans. We had all been conversing a little. When the conductor came in, all was silent.
A conversation took place, and I knew what he was saying. He was denying my wife’s passport. He went away and came back two or three times.
Finally, not knowing what to do, I had a bit of inspiration and produced that 20-mark note. He looked at it, took the note, and handed us our passports.
The next morning when we arrived in Berlin, a member of the Church met us at the train. I rather lightly told him of our experience. He was suddenly very sober. I said, “What’s the matter?”
He said, “I don’t know how to explain your getting here. East Germany right now is the one country in the world that refuses to honor the three-year passport. To them, your wife’s passport was not valid.”
I said, “Well, what could they have done?”
He answered, “Put you off the train.”
I said, “They wouldn’t put us off the train, would they?”
He said, “Not us. Her!”
I could see myself having someone try to put my wife off the train at about two o’clock in the morning somewhere in East Germany. I am not sure I would know what to do. I did not learn until afterwards how dangerous it was and what the circumstances were, particularly for my wife. I care a good deal more about her than I do for myself. We had been in very serious danger. Those whose passports they would not accept were arrested and detained.
All of this comes to this point: the elder who handed me the 20-mark note was David A. Bednar, a young elder serving in the South German Mission, who is now a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
So why was it that this young elder from San Leandro, California, handed me the 20-mark note? If you understand that and understand what life is about, you will understand really all you need to know about life as members of the Church. You will understand how our lives are really not our own. They are governed—and if we live as we should live, then we will be taken care of. I do not think he knew the consequences of what he was doing. That 20-mark note was worth six dollars, and six dollars to an elder is quite a bit!
You will be doing some things automatically, almost unwittingly. Without thinking, you will find you have been prompted and guided by the Holy Spirit. That is why this young elder, without knowing why, took a 20-mark note out of his wallet as he was trotting alongside the train and handed it to me as the train was pulling out. He saved us from great danger.

Christmas was a happy and sad occasion because Mama was too wrapped up in herself to pay much attention to holidays. And Daddy was often overwhelmed with the responsibilities of a home, us children, our sick mother, and his job. Yet even though he didn’t have enough money to buy us presents, he always brought us a nice tree the day before Christmas, and he made sure that on Christmas morning we had the biggest oranges and apples and the best candy and nuts in town in our stockings. Our uncles and aunts made sure that we had toys until we got into junior high school. I remember how excited I was when I was seven to find a beautiful walking doll and a carriage for me under the tree. In my excitement, I didn’t notice that my older brothers had received only one basketball between them to share.
One time just before Easter, my Primary teacher brought a large box to class. We were only eight, and we were very curious to see its contents. When class was over, the teacher reached into the box and gave each of us a tiny Easter basket filled with jelly beans and candy eggs. In my eyes, the beautiful basket was also filled with love. This same kind teacher gave me an angel figurine when I graduated from seminary. I still get a warm feeling whenever I see that little angel inside my china closet. It represented to me the hugs that I so desperately needed but seldom received.
My grandmother, a spiritual giant to me, taught me how to pray. She spent her winters with a daughter who lived a hundred miles away, so I saw her only in the summers. Sometimes I got to stay with her. I loved to climb between her sparkling white sheets and lay my head on her freshly ironed pillowcases. Her home was a house of order and love. And her homemade bread and Potawatomi plum jam was like a king’s dinner to me. She always kept a tin box of lemon drops and mints.
After biking to her house one day, I couldn’t find her in the kitchen, so I went into her bedroom. Through the window I noticed her out in her garden. Passing her dresser, I saw a new box of chocolates that someone had given her for Mother’s Day. The temptation was too great. I opened the box, picked out several pieces, and shoved them into my pocket before running outside to see Grandma.
The next day Grandma called and asked me to come over to her house. When I arrived, we visited for a while, then she offered me a chocolate. I cried and she cried, then we talked about what it means to be honest and about how disappointed Heavenly Father is when we steal. Grandma taught me other lessons that afternoon that helped strengthen my spirituality. She was the first one I called when I received my mission call. She died while I was in the mission home, and she was buried the day I arrived in New Zealand. I will always cherish the comfort and strength that she was to me.
When people are mentally ill, they sometimes have religious delusions, or strange ideas. Mama was either very religious—we said family prayers together three times a day—or she wouldn’t have anything at all to do with the Church. Because half of our small rural ward were relatives, the whole congregation knew about Mama’s illness. She never went to Church, but it was important to her that Daddy and the rest of us attend.
One year a girl moved into our ward whose parents smoked and drank. We became friends, and went everywhere together. Her name was Elaine, and she became active in the Church. Although her parents were inactive, they were very kind to me and welcomed me into their home. When we were in junior high school, Elaine became very popular. Some of the girls wanted to crowd me out of Elaine’s circle of friends, but she wouldn’t let them. Then one day our friendship crashed. I was without my best friend for two horrible years. It was especially hard for me because Mama was very ill then.
Mama’s family had taught me to love music, and two songs were very special to me: “I’ll Walk with God” and “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” When the loneliness at school and the rejection at home got to be too much for me, I would go walking in the wheat fields and sing them. As I sang, I was filled with hope and courage, and I could feel the Spirit of the Lord giving me guidance and comfort.
At the end of ninth grade, Mama started taking a medication that helped her to feel better. By the time I graduated from high school, she started getting out into the community a little, and life was easier for all of us.
I feel that the Lord helped me develop a compassion for other people’s feelings because of the experiences that I had because of my mother. I grew up to love the Lord and depend on Him. And I never felt that I was alone, because I knew that He was always there when I needed Him.

I had the same problem. Nothing interesting ever seemed to happen to me. Then I was challenged by my Young Women leader to keep a journal. She gave us a jar of questions to answer whenever we couldn’t think of anything to write. Slowly I found that my life was interesting. Now I write in my journal constantly. I look back and read my old journals, and I’m fascinated at how much I have grown.Katie Grover, 18, Chula Vista Third Ward, Chula Vista California Stake

Theresia Mangels, an elderly widow, lived alone in an apartment in northern Germany. One evening she heard a knock at her door and opened it to find two young men standing there. Remembering that she still had a book their colleagues had left years before, she invited them in, then went to find the book. When she tried to return it, they grinned and refused to take it, telling her the book was actually from another church. They were from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, they said, and asked if they could give her an important message. She was a bit lonely and, besides, they were such nice young men. She agreed to listen.
They taught her that evening about someone named the Prophet Joseph Smith, but their message confused her. Visions and gold plates and angels—it all seemed so strange. They asked if they could come back another time, and she almost said no. But she decided to give them one more chance.
When they returned, they said they were going to teach her about the purpose of life and God’s plan of salvation. That sounded interesting. And then they started talking about something she had never heard of before: a premortal existence where all of us lived with God. It was as if a light went on in her soul. This doctrine was true. She could feel it. And it explained so many things she had wondered about but her church had never been able to clarify. From then on, everything the missionaries taught made perfect sense, and when they invited her to be baptized, she accepted eagerly.

The impact of a Christlike teacher can be everlasting. I know because my life was changed by a teacher who taught in the Savior’s way.
When I was a Mia Maid, my adviser, Sister Chambers, was one of the most Christlike people I’d ever known. She truly understood the importance of loving those you teach. She was always so genuine and kind to everyone. I always looked forward to her lessons because it was clear that she truly cared about the young women. I always felt the Spirit when she taught, and I always felt inspired to do better.
I still remember specific lessons that she taught, including one about how we can draw closer to the Savior when we turn our focus outward and look for ways to help others. Years later, I’m still striving to turn that inner focus outward.
Sister Chambers also happened to be my piano teacher. She was so patient with me, even when I was having a hard time with a piece or when it was obvious that I hadn’t practiced as much as I should have. Sister Chambers was encouraging and gentle, and I think that helped me improve more than anything else. I loved her so much that I didn’t want to disappoint her! In fact, I wanted to be like her.
During one piano lesson, she told me she was moving. After the lesson, I think I cried for about an hour! I loved her so much. I don’t think she ever knew the impact she had on me. But that’s the power that good teachers can have. They can shape you in such a way that their influence is felt long after their presence is gone.

“Come on, Fynn. It’s time to go!” Johan said.
Fynn’s brother, Johan, was waiting impatiently at the front door. He didn’t want to be late for school.
Fynn frowned. He didn’t want to go to school. His family had just moved to a new house. It was his first year at school, and he hadn’t made any friends at school yet. He missed his old friends.
“I’m scared!” Fynn said, running to his mother. “Why do I have to go to school?”
Fynn’s mother gave him a hug. “It’s going to be OK. Let’s say a prayer,” she said. “There’s always time to pray.”
They knelt down and asked Heavenly Father to help Fynn. Then Fynn and his brother went to school. The day went a little better.
Every morning after that, Fynn knelt down and said a prayer asking Heavenly Father for help.
Slowly, things got better. Fynn made a friend, and he wasn’t scared anymore. After a while, Fynn started liking school.
One day Fynn and his brother were walking to school, and Fynn felt happy. He noticed the sun shining. He thought about all the fun things he was learning. Suddenly, he stopped walking.
“I forgot something!” he said to Johan. Fynn ran back to their house.
His mother looked worried when he ran inside.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I forgot to pray!” Fynn said. He knelt down. He wanted to thank Heavenly Father for helping him.
After ending his prayer, he gave his mom a hug. “There’s always time to pray!” he said.
Fynn smiled. His mom smiled. And as Fynn ran to catch up with his brother, he thought maybe Heavenly Father was smiling too.

All my life I strove for perfection: I strove to be the angel child, the straight-A student, the exceptional friend, family member, and athlete. But things didn’t work out the way I’d hoped, and I started to feel like I was losing control over my life.
So I turned to something I could control: how much I ate. I began to look in the mirror and feel unhappy with what I saw—an imperfect girl. The only way to make her perfect was to be skinny. I began to weigh myself daily. I ate less and less. I turned down foods I loved. And still I was not happy.
My parents noticed my frequent gloomy attitude, and they noticed I was not eating very much. When they realized that something was not normal, they took me to my pediatrician. Sure enough, my weight was down an unhealthy amount. I was diagnosed with the eating disorder anorexia. I was put on an anxiety medication and treated by three specialty doctors. I was to the point that they almost put me in the hospital to save my life. I was walking the line of life and death. At the time I didn’t realize how bad things were. I didn’t even know what anorexia was: an emotional disorder characterized by an obsessive desire to lose weight by refusing to eat.
I got mad. I did not see what the problem was and why everyone was so worried. Wasn’t that what I was supposed to be doing—staying healthy and being skinny? My family decided to fast and pray for me. This made me frustrated. I didn’t think people should fast and pray for me, because I thought I was healthy, happy, and content with how I looked.
My parents and siblings told me over and over, “You need to change. You need to seek a desire to change.” I didn’t want to change. I didn’t want to put on weight, and I couldn’t see why they wanted me to, either.
Countless times they would tell me, “Turn to the Lord. Tell Him you want to change and ask Him to help you change.” I would pray for these things, but it was an empty cry. I didn’t want help but went along with it to make my parents and doctors happy.
I had been receiving treatment for my eating disorder for about a year and a half when my sister, who was serving a mission at the time, said, “You need to change.” I had been told that over and over again and was kind of sick of hearing it, so I just said in frustration, “How? How do you want me to change?”
From the time I was diagnosed with anorexia, I had read my scriptures every night, had not missed morning or night prayer, and had gone to church. I said to my sister, “I have asked God to change me, and I am still here. He isn’t listening.” I felt frustrated, but I knew giving up my scripture study and daily prayers would do nothing to help the situation.
My kind sister thought for a moment and then said, “You need to want to change. Go to God, and talk to Him like you would to me, and tell Him you are ready to change.” What she said hit me like a ton of bricks. I went to my Heavenly Father, a little nervous but honest and earnest, and just said, “OK, here I am. Help me to change. Please help me to find a desire to change.”
Things did not get better immediately, but I had a slight change of heart. Ever so slightly, I began to want to be healthier, to eat, and to be free from this illness. Little by little, things improved.
I still fight daily to eat, but it is so much better because I turned to the Lord for help. I did not do this by myself and could not have done it by myself.
Heavenly Father and His Only Begotten Son, Jesus Christ, did not leave me comfortless. The Savior is aware of every little pain and agony I feel and have felt. Not only is He aware of them, but He has also felt them (see Alma 7:11–13). He knows how we are suffering. He knows we want to give up, and He gives us the extra boost to keep us going.
There were countless times when I would wonder, “When will it go away? Why me?” I wanted to give up. Later I realized that Heavenly Father has a plan, and I need to trust in His plan. His plan is perfect, although I do not always see it in that way. I also know that the Lord blessed me with amazing parents, doctors, family, and friends throughout this process.
Truly, God knew I would need all the help and support I could get, and each person was inspired of God to help me. God does not leave us to fend for ourselves no matter the situation. He is there, and He wants us to turn to Him, to be saved through His Son’s amazing Atonement. I know that God loves His children and that He has prepared a way for us to return to Him no matter the gravity of our trial or sin.

Not long ago I attended a stake conference that was not far away, and by hurrying I was able to get home early enough on Sunday afternoon to have the privilege of attending the sacrament service in our own home ward. Throughout the Church all around the world, thousands and thousands of families attend sacrament meeting on the day of rest—the Lord’s day—most of them led by the priesthood bearer of the home, whose responsibility it is to guide the family in keeping the commandments of God. The Lord said, “And that thou mayest more fully keep thyself unspotted from the world, thou shalt go to the house of prayer and offer up thy sacraments upon my holy day.” (D&C 59:9.)
It was interesting to watch people going to the chapel, some walking down the street, others coming by automobiles and turning into the parking lot. From all around they were gathering—men, women, youth, and children. Many were coming as families.
Families usually consist of a father, mother, and children, but this is not always the case. Sometimes there is not a mother or a father, and sometimes no children. Often there is one person living alone. In years gone by, our family was larger, but now it consists of only two.
When we entered the chapel, Bishop Salisbury, in his usual gracious manner, greeted us with a warm handclasp. As we went down the aisle, Brother Doxey, our home teacher, nodded a greeting and we responded similarly—an affectionate greeting in the spirit of a handshake except that distance separated us. And there was Brother Jensen, who was formerly our home teacher, sitting with his wife and daughters. We could also see Sister Nielsen and Sister Whitney, the lovely Relief Society visiting teachers who come to our home and bring a ray of spiritual sunshine to cheer up Sister Hunter. A couple moved over and let us sit by them, and someone on the row behind touched us on the shoulder and whispered that they were glad to see us.
We were among friends. We were among more than friends—we were with both brothers and sisters—literally. The organ was being played softly, and there were a few moments of quiet meditation before the big hand of the clock in the chapel was at the highest point, indicating the time of commencement of a sacred hour.
One of the counselors to the bishop, in a dignified but friendly manner, came to the pulpit and gave a word of greeting and announced the name of the hymn we were to sing.
The priests sat quietly at the sacrament table. I looked at each of them—well-groomed, reverent, serious. Many young men of their age were spending the day in recreation or sports, but they had come to the house of the Lord. Seated in front of them was a row of deacons. They, too, were well groomed and well behaved, taking seriously the responsibility of their first office in the Aaronic Priesthood.
As I looked at these priests and deacons, there came a realization that they were from good homes with parents who loved them and who taught them to keep the commandments of the Lord. Then came thoughts of others who have an interest in them: their bishop and his counselors, home teachers, priesthood leaders and teachers, those who are helping them in the Sunday School and the young men’s organization, Scouting and Exploring leaders, and an array of persons who are giving their time and effort to teach and encourage them in their young years.
The time will not be long, I thought, until these priests and deacons will be in the mission field to fulfill the commandment given to all faithful elders in the Church: “Go ye into all the world, preach the gospel to every creature, acting in the authority which I have given you, baptizing in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.” (D&C 68:8.)
After a hymn and prayer, and while the priests were preparing the sacrament, we were led in singing:
God, our Father, hear us pray;
Send thy grace this holy day;
As we take of emblems blest,
On our Savior’s love we rest.
(Hymns, no. 8.)
A priest kneeled over the broken bread and prayed: “That they may eat in remembrance of the body of thy Son, and witness unto thee, O God, the Eternal Father, that they are willing to take upon them the name of thy Son, and always remember him and keep his commandments.” (D&C 20:77.) The deacons dispersed throughout the chapel to serve the broken bread. One of them came to our row and held the silver tray while I partook. Then I held the tray so Sister Hunter could partake, and she held it for the person next to her. Thus the tray went down the row, each serving and being served.
I thought of the events that took place on the evening nearly two thousand years ago when Jesus was betrayed. He had sent Peter and John into Jerusalem to make ready the Passover. This included, as was the custom, the sacrifice of a lamb. The laws of sacrifice had been followed down through the centuries since commenced by Father Adam, looking toward the time when the Savior would make the great sacrifice for mankind by the shedding of His own blood and death on the cross.
After the Master and the Twelve had partaken of the feast of the Passover on that occasion, “Jesus took bread, and blessed, and brake it, and gave to them, and said, Take, eat: this is my body.
“And he took the cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them: and they all drank of it.
“And he said unto them, This is my blood of the new testament, which is shed for many.” (Mark 14:22–24.)
Thus was the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper introduced to replace sacrifice and be a reminder to all those who partake that He truly made a sacrifice for them; and to be an additional reminder of the covenants they have made to follow Him, keep His commandments, and be faithful to the end.
While thinking about this, the admonition of Paul in his letter to the church in Corinth came to my mind. He said: “Wherefore whosoever shall eat this bread, and drink this cup of the Lord, unworthily, shall be guilty of the body and blood of the Lord.
“But let a man examine himself, and so let him eat of that bread, and drink of that cup.
“For he that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh damnation to himself, not discerning the Lord’s body.” (1 Cor. 11:27–29.)
I was troubled. I asked myself this question: “Do I place God above all other things and keep all of His commandments?” Then came reflection and resolution. To make a covenant with the Lord to always keep His commandments is a serious obligation, and to renew that covenant by partaking of the sacrament is equally serious. The solemn moments of thought while the sacrament is being served have great significance. They are moments of self-examination, introspection, self-discernment—a time to reflect and to resolve.
By this time the other priest was kneeling at the table, praying that all who should drink “may do it in remembrance of the blood of thy Son, which was shed for them; … that they do always remember him, that they may have his Spirit to be with them.” (D&C 20:79.)
There was quiet meditation, the silence broken only by the voice of a tiny babe whose mother quickly held him close. Anything that breaks the silence during this sacred ordinance seems out of place; but surely the sound of a little one would not displease the Lord. He, too, had been cradled by a loving mother at the beginning of a mortal life that commenced in Bethlehem and ended on the cross of Calvary.
The young men concluded serving the sacrament. Then followed words of encouragement and instruction, a closing hymn and prayer; and the sacred moments “unmarred by earthly care” had come to a close. On the way home we saw several boys playing ball in the street and a family returning in their motor home from a weekend in the mountains. This thought came to my mind: What a wonderful thing it would be if all persons had an understanding of the purpose of baptism and the willingness to accept of it; the desire to keep the covenants made in that ordinance to serve the Lord and live His commandments; and, in addition, the desire to partake of the sacrament on the Sabbath day to renew those covenants to serve Him and be faithful to the end.