Gospel Story Finder

Perhaps you’ve experienced too much change in a very compressed period of time. Perhaps you are like the young man who returned home from his mission to ?nd that his parents were divorcing, his father was excommunicated, his ?ancée welcomed him home with the Dear John letter in hand, all the classes for his major were full, his prospective roommates were moving, and the company he was going to work for had gone bankrupt. (True story.) When changes like that happen all at once, it can be very dif?cult to hold on, to go on, without sustaining help from the Lord and from those whom the Lord raises up to assist you. Such changes can even threaten your spiritual stability and sense of peace.

Susie and Sammy were in their secret hideout behind the couch.
“I wonder where Susie and Sammy are,” said Mommy as she walked by. Susie giggled. Sammy giggled.
“Listen,” said Daddy. “I think we have mice in our house. Maybe we should get a cat to chase them away.”
Susie and Sammy giggled again.
A few minutes later, when Mommy put dishes out on the counter so that she could set the table for dinner, the doorbell rang. When she went to answer it, nobody was there. She stepped out on the front porch and looked around. She still couldn’t see anyone. When she returned to the kitchen, she had quite a surprise—the table was all set! “Now, who could have done that?” she asked. There was a giggle from the closet. “It must be mice,” Mommy mumbled to herself.
After dinner, Susie and Sammy excused themselves, Mommy went to do the laundry, and Daddy started to clear the table. The doorbell rang again. When he went to answer it, nobody was there. He looked all over the yard, but couldn’t find anyone. When he came back to the kitchen, the table was cleared. “Now, who could have done that?” asked Daddy. Another giggle came from the closet. “We really need a cat,” Daddy said to himself.
The next morning when Mommy was starting to make beds, the doorbell rang again. And again, nobody was there! “This is very strange,” she said. When she got back to the bedroom, both Susie’s and Sammy’s beds were already made. “This is very, very strange,” she said. “Is that a giggle I hear coming from under the bed? No. It’s probably just mice again.”
That night Mommy called to Daddy, “It’s time to get Susie and Sammy ready for bed. Will you help me?” Suddenly the TV went on, the radio went on, the doorbell rang, and the timer on the top of the stove started ringing. Mommy and Daddy went running. When they came back, Susie and Sammy were in their pajamas and in their beds, looking freshly scrubbed and pretending to be asleep.
“My, my!” said Mommy. “Wasn’t that a commotion?”
“What could have caused it?” asked Daddy.
Susie and Sammy started to giggle.
“Just those mice,” said Mommy winking at Daddy.
“We’d better get a cat,” said Daddy winking at Mommy.
“Meow! Meow! Meow!” Mommy and Daddy said, tickling and kissing Susie and Sammy. “Let’s keep these mice!”

Brent ran downstairs, his little sister, Lindsey, following close behind. “Mom!” Brent cried. “Lindsey won’t leave us alone!”
Brent’s best friend, Clint, had come over to play. The boys were playing with Brent’s fire truck and putting out the fires in the skyscrapers they had built out of blocks. “Lindsey always wants to do what we’re doing,” Brent said. “Why can’t she go away?”
“Brent, please be nice to your sister. She just wants to spend time with you,” Mom said.
“But, Mom, she always wants to tag along. Can’t she do something else for a while?”
“How about if we color together, Lindsey?” Mom asked. Lindsey nodded.
“Thanks, Mom,” Brent said as he started back up the stairs.
“Don’t forget, Brent,” Mom called after him. “You and Clint have practice for the Christmas program in less than an hour.”
“OK, Mom,” Brent replied.
“Mommy, why doesn’t Brent like me?” Lindsey asked, tears forming in her eyes.
“He does like you,” Mom said. “But sometimes he just wants to be with his friends. Brent loves you very much, even if he doesn’t always show it.”
A little while later, Mom took Brent and Clint to the church to practice for the Christmas program. Brent was excited. He was going to play Joseph this year. Before, he’d always been a sheep or a shepherd or a Wise Man. That was neat, but this year would be the best ever.
“OK, we’re going to practice the scene at the inns,” Brother Mitchell said. “Joseph and Mary, take your places. Innkeepers, it’s time.”
The Primary children hurried to their places onstage as Joseph and Mary approached the first inn.
“Please, do you have a room that we could stay in for the night?” Brent asked. “My wife is going to have a baby very soon, and she needs a place to rest.”
“I’m sorry. There’s no room,” the innkeeper said.
“Come on, Mary. Let’s try another place,” Brent said. They walked to the next innkeeper. “Hello, sir. We’ve come a long way, and my wife is going to have a baby very soon. Do you have a place where we can stay?”
“No, we’re all full. There’s no room.”
Brent went to the next innkeeper and knocked on the door, then the next, and then the next. The answer was always the same.
“There’s no room.”
“No room.”
“No room.”
“I’m so sorry, Mary,” Brent said. “Let’s try this one last place.” He turned and knocked on the door. “Sir, please, we’re very far from home, we have no place to go, and my wife is going to have a baby very soon. We’ve tried every inn in town. Do you have anywhere that we could stay?”
“I’m sorry. We’re all full.”
Joseph and Mary turned away slowly, looking sad. “I’m sorry, Mary,” Brent began. “I don’t know what—”
“Wait! Wait just a moment,” the innkeeper called after them. “Maybe I have a place after all. Come with me.” The innkeeper led them to the stable with cows, sheep, and other animals. “It’s not much, but you can stay here if you like.”
“This is wonderful,” Brent said gratefully. “Thank you very, very much.”
* * * *
A few days later, Clint was at Brent’s house again. They were playing in a big box, pretending it was a fort that protected them from invaders. But Lindsey kept bothering them, asking if she could come inside too.
“Lindsey, why don’t you go do something else? Can’t you see that there’s no room for—” Brent stopped mid-sentence. He thought of the words that he’d heard just a few days before: “No room, no room, no room.” He thought of Joseph and Mary and the baby Jesus, who meant so much to all of them. Then he looked at his little sister.
“I’m sorry, Lindsey. Of course there’s room for you. There’s always room for three.”

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.

This passage of scripture came to my mind many times when I returned to my studies. Graduate school was an exciting experience. I was fortunate to have the unusual experience of going to graduate school at the same time as my husband. Even though this brought about certain stresses—like juggling class schedules with the demands of raising our two sons, who are now teenagers—I mostly remember both of us frequently coming home to breathlessly tell each other of some stimulating class we had just attended or some fascinating research we had been working on that was generating new and original ideas.

There were other times, however, when I landed in those stormy locales where my beliefs and faith were questioned and even ridiculed. In particular, I remember an important learning experience I had in a history class at Ohio State University. The professor for the course was a world-renowned scholar on Martin Luther and the Reformation. We were in the midst of discussing Luther’s reading of the Bible one day when this professor laughingly recounted, “Those Mormons just don’t get it. I just walked through the student union and saw a couple of Mormon missionaries sitting at a table, and they just don’t understand Christ.” Well, I am certain that he did not expect that there would be a Mormon sitting in the class, and he must have thought everyone would join in on the humor. I challenged him, however, on his comments, and he replied that if the Mormons had understood Christ, they would have realized that Christ had forgiven murderers in his statement “forgive them; for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). We then had a lengthy discussion as to who was actually responsible for Christ’s death. In the end, I doubt that anyone was greatly affected by the discussion except me. I more firmly grasped something I had known all along and should have been more vigorously applying in my schooling: Do not automatically validate the knowledge dispensed by so-called authorities, whatever their worldly reputation.

I glanced out my window one summer day and saw her—my enemy—coming up the street. I dreaded approaching her, but here was my opportunity. It was now or never. My stomach churned, my heart pounded, and I shook all over as I raced out the front door.
Our animosity had started out innocently enough as a motherly instinct to protect our children. My son had fought with her son, and she came to my house to talk to me. But I felt she was telling me how I should be raising my son. While the boys soon made up their differences, their mothers did not.
Then, in the following weeks, I began to hear from our neighbors that she was making critical comments about me. I was deeply hurt, and soon I, too, was criticizing her behind her back. We went to great lengths to avoid each other, including walking on opposite sides of the street. The contention continued for two long years.
One day as I knelt in prayer, I was struck by the thought that if I continued harboring ill feelings toward my neighbor, the Spirit could not abide with me. I realized I had let hate grow in my heart, and the hate was eating away at my soul.
I desperately needed my Heavenly Father and his Spirit to be with me, and I sorely needed to repent. I fasted and prayed for help in mending the breach between us. I needed an opportunity to make things right.
Now it seemed my prayers had been answered. Gathering my courage, I ran out the door and grabbed her by her shoulders. She stared at me in shock. Quickly I blurted out, “Will you please, please forgive me? I do not know if we can ever be friends, and I do not know what you will do in the future, but I vow never to speak ill of you again. I will no longer consider you my enemy.”
What happened next is hard to express. The sweet Spirit of the Lord enveloped both of us. As we embraced, the bitterness melted away. We cried and hugged and laughed.
Love, joy, and peace are such sweet companions that I wondered why I had chosen to carry around the heavy burdens of anger and ill will that had weighed down my soul and sapped my spiritual strength for so long. I am pleased to say I kept my vow, and we did become friends. I have since moved away from that neighborhood, but I have not forgotten the lessons of forgiveness and love I learned that precious summer day.

Whilst my wife and I were serving as leaders of the Fiji Suva Mission, we would monitor the storm weather sites from November through April to be aware of any cyclones that may affect our missionaries serving throughout the islands.
In early-April 2018, tropical Cyclone Keni developed into a category 2 cyclone which, on its projected course, would track several hundred kilometers south of the island of Kadavu. As we drew closer to the 11th of April 2018, instead of staying on its predicted course, Cyclone Keni veered northward and increased in intensity to category 3 with winds gusting up to 215 kms per hour, which tore through the island of Kadavu.
Elder Tupe and Elder Christensen served on that island, and I was extremely concerned about their welfare and that of the community of Saints there. With the power knocked out, communication was impossible for many hours. Finally, the elders were able to get a call out. The first thing I heard was, “President we’re okay.” Oh, what relief and joy filled my heart along with humble prayers of gratitude.
They shared that their accommodation was destroyed, and they had to shelter in one of only a few concrete block homes on the island, this one owned by Brother Lal (a counselor in the branch presidency). They had lost most of their belongings but had scoured the forest and reclaimed some clothing.
With their welfare in mind, I started the arrangements to evacuate these elders off the island. When I called the next morning to give them more details, Elder Tupe and Elder Christensen asked without any thought for their own needs, “President, can we stay? The members and families on the island need our help to rebuild their homes.”
As they expressed this desire, my heart swelled with admiration for these humble servants of the Lord who put their own needs aside to offer much-needed help to others.
Over the next two weeks they laboured tirelessly to clean debris from damaged dwellings and assisted with the repairs to several homes. These young missionaries exemplified the scripture: “Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matthew 25:40).
After these two weeks, Elder Tupe and Elder Christensen returned to Suva to be assigned to a different area, until the mission quarters on Kadavu could be rebuilt. As they entered the mission home, they looked different. Yes, their clothes were a little untidy, because no washing machine or iron was available, they had all disappeared in the cyclone, but their countenances shone brightly as they recalled numerous experiences of assisting members and nonmembers alike.
Their service brought a great feeling of unity to the people in Kadavu and prepared many hearts to receive the message of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. Indeed, these young missionaries exemplified this verse of scripture: “And behold, I tell you these things that ye may learn wisdom; that ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God” (Mosiah 2:17).
I will be forever grateful for the example of Elder Tupe and Elder Christensen. They exemplified so beautifully what it means to truly keep the second great commandment, to “Love thy neighbor as thyself,” (Matthew 22:39).

The 3:30 school bell rang. Matt dashed for the door, grabbed his coat from the hook, and jumped down the steps ahead of the other students. Once outside, he rounded the corner of the building. Pressing his palms against the wall, he inhaled deeply as though trying to disappear into the red bricks. His eyes searched for a possible hiding place, but there was none—no trees or bushes or anything—only the flat cement playground.
His heart pounded as he remembered Joe’s words from recess: “You just wait till school’s out. I’ll be waiting for you.”
Matt blinked back his tears and watched the others trooping out, yelling and shouting. Then he noticed Joe scanning the school yard.
How can I get away from him? Matt wondered. Cautiously he inched along the wall behind a screen of students, hoping he could make it to the back door without Joe spotting him.
When Matt finally reached the back corner, he scooted around it and went inside. With a sigh of relief, he ran to the front of the building and slipped into his own classroom. He stood behind the big plant near the wide window and watched where his tormentor went.
Joe was still asking questions of the students and looking around. But Matt could tell that no one knew where he had gone.
Matt heard the door open. Mrs. Scott came into the room and exclaimed, “Why, Matt! I thought you were in a hurry to get out of here. I’ve never seen anyone leave so quickly.” Then she noticed his white face. “Matt, are you sick?”
A tear slid down the boy’s cheek, and he quickly brushed it away and shook his head. “Joe’s after me. He says he’s going to beat me up. He’s out there now looking for me.”
Mrs. Scott stood with her hand on Matt’s shoulder and watched from the window. “Too bad about Joe,” she said.
“Why too bad for him? I’m the one who gets sick every morning because I’m afraid he’ll get me. Look! He thinks I got away. Maybe he’ll go home now,” Matt said, momentarily relieved. “But it’ll be the same all over again tomorrow.”
“Joe hasn’t much of a home to go to,” Mrs. Scott commented. “His mother died last year, and his father is out of a job. He has an older sister—and that’s all he has. He’s unhappy and can’t seem to concentrate on his schoolwork.”
“He’s mean, and he doesn’t like me,” Matt insisted.
“That’s what’s so sad about Joe. He really wants friends but doesn’t know how to get them,” Mrs. Scott said. “Why don’t you sit down here and read a little while until we’re sure Joe has gone. Then you can walk home without any trouble.”
Mrs. Scott continued to watch Joe from the window while Matt opened the book he had started during reading time. It was about Abraham Lincoln. His pounding heart settled down and his chin rested in the palm of his hand as his eyes scanned the pages. Suddenly something caught his attention. He reread a line several times, then exclaimed, “Mrs. Scott, listen to this! ‘Abraham Lincoln always destroyed his enemies by making them his friends.’”
“Very interesting,” Mrs. Scott responded. “But why does that make you so happy?”
“Well, Joe’s my enemy. Abraham Lincoln would destroy him by making him a friend. You said Joe needs friends. I wonder …”
“Maybe it would work, Matt,” Mrs. Scott remarked thoughtfully. “Joe’s gone home now, though.”
“For now I’m sure glad he goes north and I go south,” Matt replied. “See you in the morning, Mrs. Scott.”
All the way home Matt thought about how he could make Joe his friend. As he opened the kitchen door, he smelled the aroma of hot sugar cookies. “Mmmmm—cookies!” he said as he greeted his mother.
“Where have you been?” his mother asked. “I knew you’d want to help make the cookies, but I couldn’t wait any longer … Matt, is there something wrong?”
Matt sighed and sank into a chair. “I have a problem,” he replied. Picking up a warm cookie, he nibbled it thoughtfully. Then he had an idea! “Mom, would you make more cookies tomorrow?”
“You weren’t thinking about eating all of these tonight, were you!” she exclaimed.
“No, but maybe they’ll work with somebody else.”
“Maybe what will work? I don’t understand you these days, Matt. You have a stomachache every morning and don’t want to go to school. Then you’re late coming home. Won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
“Not yet, Mom. But you’ll understand tomorrow, if my plan works.”
The next morning Matt was nervous, but he didn’t have a stomachache.
“Have a good day,” his mother said as he started out the door.
“Maybe I’ll bring somebody home after school. Will you have the things ready to make cookies?” Matt asked.
“Yes, if you want me to, I will.”
Matt was at his desk early and was reading his Lincoln book when the other students entered the room. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw Joe sauntering over to him. Matt’s stomach knotted as Joe leaned on his desk and hissed, “Where’d you disappear to yesterday?”
Matt swallowed hard and looked straight into Joe’s eyes. “Joe”—he swallowed harder—“my mom has something neat for us if you’ll come home with me today after school.”
Joe was taken completely by surprise. Then his face hardened as he leaned on Matt’s desk again with his fists clenched. “Sure. Big deal!”
Matt clenched his own fists under his desk and kept looking straight into Joe’s eyes. He forced himself to smile. “No kidding, Joe. You’ll like it!”
Joe’s face relaxed. “Your mom, huh? OK—I’m game!”
Matt stayed in at recess to help Mrs. Scott. He couldn’t take a chance on upsetting Joe on the playground and spoiling the whole thing.
After school Matt met Joe and asked, “Do you have to go home first and tell your mother you’ll be late?”
Now it was Joe who swallowed hard. “My mom’s not there. Nobody cares if I come straight home.”
“Oh,” Matt said, remembering too late what Mrs. Scott had told him about Joe’s family.
“I don’t have a mom anymore,” Joe went on. “What’s this neat thing supposed to be your mom has for us, anyway?”
Matt could tell that Joe’s wall of toughness was beginning to crumble. The two of them ran almost all the way to Matt’s house. His mother was smiling as they burst into the kitchen. “Well, I see you brought a friend.”
“This is my friend Joe, Mom. Oh, good, you have the things ready for the cookies.”
“Don’t forget to scrub your hands, boys,” Matt’s mother reminded them with a wink.
The boys helped Matt’s mother add all the ingredients for the soft dough, and then she rolled it out.
“Choose the cookie cutter you want, Joe,” Matt said.
Joe picked up a cookie cutter with the outline of a bat. Matt picked a ghost-shaped one.
Matt showed Joe how to cut out the cookies and put them carefully onto the cookie sheets with a spatula. Later they removed the baked ones just as carefully. They were really enjoying themselves by now. Occasionally they would eat some of the plain dough they pulled away from the cut cookies.
When all the cookies were baked, Matt’s mother made icing so they could decorate some of them.
“I’ve never done anything like this in my whole life!” Joe exclaimed. “Could I take a couple home to my sister?”
“Oh, you can take a box full,” Matt’s mother said with a smile of understanding. “Why don’t you two go out and play ball while the icing is setting?”
Later, as the boys packed the cookies in a flat box for Joe to take home, Matt thought happily to himself, Abraham Lincoln was right! You can destroy enemies by turning them into friends!

Recently, I embarked on that same hike in the Tetons I spoke of earlier, only this time with my husband and a group of friends our same age. When we started, it was thrilling and easy, but before we arrived at our destination, we were exhausted and I knew I was in trouble. I was not as prepared for the hike physically as I had been when I hiked with the young women years before—and I had packed my equipment carelessly and taken too much. The weight of my pack began to make me weary and ready to give up. The others were also feeling the rigors of the altitude, the steep terrain, and heavy packs. My husband sensed this and hurried ahead. I felt abandoned. However, after about an hour I could see my husband descending the trail on the other side of the valley. He was running toward me. When he reached me, he took my pack, dried my tears, and led me to the destination—a crystal clear lake surrounded by lofty pine trees. Then he turned around, went back down the trail, and did the same thing four more times for the other hikers. As I watched him, I was sorry I was so unprepared and even more sorry that I had so many extra things in my pack that had added to the weight he had to carry for me. But I was so grateful for his strength, for his unselfishness, for his preparation, and for his love.

I know of a young mother with five little children who called an older sister, her valued mentor, and asked, “Can we go on a hike?” Her friend knew that meant she needed to talk. Halfway through an eight-mile loop, the young mother finally said, “I just can’t believe that Heavenly Father loves me; I’ve made lots of mistakes in my life. I can’t feel that I’m worthy of His love; how can He possibly love me?” Sisters, this was a woman who had made temple covenants and was active in the Church. And yet she still felt unworthy of His love. The older sister quickly responded, “Of course He loves you. You’re His daughter.”

While growing up, Isaac Nii Ayi Kwei Martey was introduced to the Hindu religion by his father. He came in contact with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints while he was staying with his uncle in Cape Coast. He met LDS missionaries as they were rescheduling an appointment with a neighbor. He approached them and consented to listen to the restored gospel. Isaac had in mind to thwart the message of the restored gospel. When the missionaries visited with him, they gave him the Book of Mormon and he loved the teachings he found there. He genuinely wanted to learn more.
He decided to take the challenge of praying about the Book of Mormon. He persistently prayed to know if it was true and he got his confirmation three weeks later. After the witness of the Holy Ghost, he was faced with a new challenge.
He informed his mother about his desire to get baptized and join the LDS Church, but she threatened to disown him if he ever did. All his relatives were against the idea of him joining the Church. Isaac had been admitted to study for his bachelor’s degree at Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology. Isaac told the Cape Coast missionaries of his plan to attend church at Kumasi without the knowledge of his family. Isaac had studied with them for a little over a year without getting the opportunity to attend church. While in Kumasi, he looked for the LDS Church but could not find it. A student colleague directed him to the LDS Church about a month later. Isaac again met with the Kumasi missionaries. They were impressed with his knowledge of the restored gospel, but this was no surprise, as he had been taught much by missionaries while in Cape Coast.
The missionaries fixed a baptismal interview date with Isaac. He agreed and got baptized on October 16, 2010. However, he kept all this from his family. Isaac had the privilege of performing a proxy baptism in the temple when he came to Accra for Christmas vacation. He shared his experience in the temple: “When I got to the temple, I felt so much about being different and I remember reading a talk in the waiting room by President Monson. ‘Dare to be a Mormon; Dare to stand alone. Dare to have a purpose firm; Dare to make it known’ (“Dare to Stand Alone,” Liahona, Nov. 2011, 61).” This impression compelled him to inform his mother about his newfound Church membership and the blessings he had acquired. Breaking the news, his mother was furious initially, but subsequently, she began to understand and accept his decision to be a Latter-day Saint. However, his extended family was unforgiving of his decision.
Isaac’s faith in the gospel began to enlarge, even to extent of desiring to serve a full-time mission. He decided to save some money toward such ecclesiastical ambition. His mother pleaded with him against it while his other relatives warned him to rescind his decision when he told them about his desire to serve the Lord for two years. Isaac stood firm and proceeded to work toward his mission goal rather than heeding to whims and caprices of family members.
He submitted his missionary forms and received the call to serve in Nigeria Port Harcourt Mission. Seven days after arriving at the missionary training center, he was informed that his mother had passed away. Having already lost his dad as a 15-year-old, his mother’s death made him an orphan. It was a really difficult time for him, and he was faced with the choice to either return home or continue with his mission. He prayed concerning this and sought counsel from his leaders. He finally decided on continuing his mission. He informed his family about his decision, and as expected, it was not well received. An uncle told him that if he went ahead with his mission, he should not consider himself as family to him. Even though he had the option to return home for his mother’s burial, he resolved to keep serving the Lord after he had read few passages in the scriptures:
“And another also said, Lord, I will follow thee; but let me first go bid them farewell, which are at home at my house.
“And Jesus said unto him, No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:61–62).
He served his mission faithfully and extended for a few more weeks before returning. Even though he hasn’t been accepted by his extended family, Isaac firmly believes that the Lord is mindful of the little things we do on this earth and the unending blessings we gain as we obey His commandments. “We all have different challenges, and the Lord has prepared our backs to these challenges that we face. … All He requires from us is a broken heart and a contrite spirit,” he says. Even though he is unsure of what lies ahead for him, he knows that if he relies on the Savior, he will be able to achieve all things.

“I feel the Spirit and receive promptings through sudden ideas and thoughts. This happens when my mind is open to God. At Young Women camp, I felt really lonely. I walked to my cabin and prayed about it. Afterward I had the feeling to turn around. I did and met with my leaders. We had a great time ziplining and eating snow cones! This experience helped me learn how I can feel the Spirit.”
Harper J., 14, Oregon, USA

Some of these feelings of joy and gratitude connected with repentance are expressed in a letter one of my ward members sent to me several years ago. He wrote the following:
I feel much better about myself and my future. I’ve got a couple [of] low-paying job offers, and tomorrow I’ve got two more interviews. I’m going to take one so that I can have some money coming in. Thanks again for the blessing. It’s very helpful and comforting to have one. It had been such a long time. I think I’ve finally got those problems licked. That is not to say I’m going to drop my guard, but I’m going to maintain it and my worthiness even more and at all costs. More than anything, I want to get back to the temple soon. Now that I’ve put those wrong behaviors behind me, I find myself desiring to follow our Heavenly Father’s commandments to the utmost. I also feel grateful for being forgiven for my sins, and that makes me want to serve my Father in Heaven.
This letter describes a young man whose soul is now full of hope, where before it was filled only with despair.

Last year I had the chance to play a round of golf with Elder David A. Bednar. He is a very good golfer! On the second hole of our round, I noticed a single player approaching as we were preparing to hit our tee shot. It was a young man who had just returned from his mission. Pointing to Elder Bednar, I told him, “You probably know him, but you don’t know me.” He replied, “You are Brother Newman, and that is Elder Bednar.” I asked him how he knew me, and he said, “I read the Liahona!” Elder Bednar then said, “Just so you know, there is no swearing in this group!”

Members of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles are always teaching, so after a few holes Elder Bednar said something like this to the young man, “It seems to me that you may be looking for an eternal companion soon. You probably don’t want any advice, but I will give you some anyway.” The young man was, of course, grateful to hear Elder Bednar’s counsel. He basically told this young man, “You will never find a perfect person out there. You aren’t perfect either.
So, my advice is that you find someone who has spiritual and life goals similar to yours and with whom you can create the marriage and family you hope to have. You do not find a person who will give you a happy marriage. You prayerfully find a person with whom you, together, can create a happy marriage.” What great advice!

Lucia and I have almost 40 years of creating a happy marriage together. It has been a wonderful journey. If there was a scoreboard that kept track of the number of times one of us has had to say “I’m sorry” during our marriage, the scoreboard would read Brother Newman 100 and Sister Newman 1! I am so grateful for Lucia’s forgiving heart.

Kathy listened as Mr. Sodeberg explained how people migrated in the United States. She was excited about her new history class. Flipping through the pages of her new history book, Kathy stopped at a picture of Brigham Young. She had never realized Brigham Young’s significance in United States history before.
Mr. Sodeberg finished his lecture. “There will be homework every day,” he said. “Your first assignment is due tomorrow.”
At home Kathy sighed as she looked at all the questions Mr. Sodeberg had assigned.
“Tough day at school?” Mom asked.
“Homework every day,” Kathy said. She remembered the picture in her history book. “Mom, Brigham Young is in my textbook. What makes him so important in U.S. history?”
“He directed the migration of thousands of Latter-day Saints to the Salt Lake Valley. Then he organized them into settlements,” Mom said. “That took a lot of planning. It was a significant part of the country’s westward migration.”
The next day Mr. Sodeberg announced, “Next week we will perform a readers’ theater. Each of you will dramatize a character of the westward migration. Your parents and other students will be invited to attend the performance.”
Mr. Sodeberg began assigning characters and handing out scripts. When he asked who wanted the part of Brigham Young, Kathy quickly raised her hand.
“Tonight’s homework is to begin memorizing your part,” Mr. Sodeberg said. “You must recite it perfectly. Your grade depends on it.”
Kathy read over her part as she and her friend Laura left class. A terrible feeling came over her. “This is all wrong,” she said to Laura. “It makes Brigham Young sound dishonest.”
“You just see things differently because of your church,” Laura said.
“I can’t say these things,” Kathy said.
“You have to recite them perfectly,” Laura reminded her.
Tears rolled down Kathy’s cheeks as she ran home and burst through the front door.
“More homework?” Mom asked.
“Worse,” Kathy said, handing her the script. “Read this.”
Mom read the script and shook her head. “This writer didn’t know a lot about Brigham Young.”
“What should I do?” Kathy asked.
“First let’s find a Brigham Young costume,” Mom said.
Kathy tried on Grandpa’s long black coat and rolled up the sleeves on her brother’s white shirt. Mr. Grandi next door showed Kathy how to walk with his extra wooden cane.
Mom found a tall black hat in a closet and put it on Kathy’s head. “You’d make Brigham Young proud,” Mom said. “Now you need a new script.”
Kathy looked for information about Brigham Young in Church history books and on the Church website. Soon the script was rewritten.
“The true story of Brigham Young,” Kathy said.
On the day of the performance, Kathy’s class gathered in the auditorium. Parents and other students waited in their seats. Mr. Sodeberg introduced the program; then he stood offstage as the students recited their parts.
Alex recited his script perfectly, but Randall mixed up his words. Mr. Sodeberg made him begin again. Kathy squeezed her cane. When it was her turn, Kathy recited the true story of Brigham Young.
“Did you change your script?” Laura asked after the performance.
“Yes. I told the truth,” Kathy said.
“Here comes Mr. Sodeberg,” Laura said.
“Well done, ladies,” Mr. Sodeberg said. “Kathy,” he continued, “you were the best Brigham Young I have ever seen.”

Last October I was sitting at my computer on a Tuesday afternoon. Life was good. Looking out my window I could see the grass being rolled into place for our new home. I could see where the flowers would bloom each spring in the beds. My books filled the bookcases and the windows looked up at the mountains. We had been in our new home only two months. My husband had been released from callings that required that we live in the same neighborhood all of our married life. I was musing about our new life on a quiet cul de sac, it was smaller than the rambling 100 year old house where we had reared our children.
And then the phone rang. It was my husband saying that one of the apostles wanted to meet with us the next day. My heart stopped. I didn’t ask why. I didn’t need to. It was fall; The Brethren were beginning to talk to potential mission presidents. The situation in my mind edged precariously close to the Lord’s words to the young man, “Sell all that thou hath and follow me.” Not now, I thought. We just built our house. This wasn’t just a new house. It was a dream put on hold for thirty years.
The interview last October culminated in a call from the First Presidency for my husband to preside over the England London South Mission. Come. Leave your house – no different than leaping over the side of the boat. This July, we will walk on English soil.

This story took place in the USA.
Chakell laughed at her sister’s silly pictures. It was Christmas Eve, and she and her family were playing a drawing game around the fireplace.
Christmas Eve was Chakell’s favorite day of the whole year. She felt cozy and happy after all the treats and giggling. She didn’t want it to end!
“All right,” Mom said. “It’s time for the white stocking!”
Chakell grinned. Christmas Eve was her favorite day, and this was one of her favorite traditions.
Where she lived, people hung big, fancy stockings by the fireplace at Christmas. On Christmas morning, they would be filled with treats! But this stocking was extra special. Chakell and her family would fill it with gifts for Jesus.
Mom pulled out a beautiful white stocking with gold trim. Then she handed each person a little slip of paper and a pencil. “Write down one thing you want to promise Jesus next year,” she said.
“Then we will put them in the stocking, and we’ll read them next year on Christmas Eve,” Dad added. “But first, let’s read our promises from last year.”
He reached into the stocking and pulled out the small slips of paper from last year. He handed them out, and Chakell quietly read hers: “I will help more at home.” She thought she did a pretty good job at that this year. But what would she write this time?
“I know what I’m going to write!” her sister said happily.
Chakell thought about what she could give to Jesus. What could she do better next year to be more like Him? What would He want her to do?
That’s when she saw her older brother, Braeden, writing something down on his slip of paper.
Chakell frowned. She couldn’t see what he wrote, but she was sure it wasn’t anything he would really do.
Braeden teased Chakell a lot, and they hadn’t been very nice to each other this year. She loved her big brother, but she didn’t think he would ever try to be more like Jesus.
Why does he have to be so mean to me? she thought.
She watched as he folded his paper and put it in the white stocking.
Braeden saw her staring and smiled. “Don’t peek,” he said.
Chakell looked back down at her paper and wrote, “I will try to be nice to everyone this year.” Then she put her paper in the stocking too.
Soon it was time for bed. But Chakell couldn’t stop thinking about what Braeden had written. Nobody was supposed to read anyone else’s promise to Jesus, but she really wanted to know!
While the others got ready for bed, Chakell snuck over to the white stocking. She found Braeden’s slip of paper and opened it.
“I promise to be kinder to Chakell this year,” it said.
She couldn’t believe it. Was this really what Braeden wrote? She felt tears in her eyes and carefully tucked the paper back inside the stocking.
Mom always said that having faith in Jesus Christ could help anyone change and become more like Him. Maybe she was right. Maybe Jesus really could help Braeden and her be nicer to each other.
The next morning as Chakell sat down for breakfast, she still felt warm inside. As soon as Braeden came down the stairs she wrapped her arms around him in a big hug.
Braeden’s eyes widened. “Whoa, what’s this for?”
“I just wanted to give you a hug,” she said. “Merry Christmas!”
Braeden grinned and hugged her back. “Merry Christmas.”
Illustrations by Kevin Fales

The Adirondack region of central upstate New York is a land of rolling hills with lakes tucked in their pockets. In the winter, blizzards smother highways and countryside, then whisk on, leaving a skier’s paradise behind.
But by mid-January of the winter of 1980, the blizzards had still not come. What little snow had fallen stretched like a crust of dried frosting on the ground, shrinking from the sun to the shadows of the quiet, gray trees. Clouds hovered overhead but never released the hoped-for relief.
Resort operators were frantic. Skiers were disappointed. At Lake Placid, Winter Olympic stars worried about competing on runs with man-made snow. An international television audience lamented the lack of powder on the slopes.
For the young people of the Syracuse New York Stake, however, it was a time of anticipation and excitement. Each year the youth in the stake plan a Winter Weekend, and snow or no snow, they decided to hold their activity. While the Lake Placid ground crews were churning out artificial snow, youth chairmen and committees were busy churning out ideas for alternative activities in case the usual downhill skiing, snow-shoeing, and snow sculpturing had to be scrapped. They knew they were headed for the Star Lake Campus of the University of New York, and that was enough for starters. They’d make their own fun when they got there!
“On the night we arrived, it was raining like crazy,” Steve Beenfield, a 17-year-old priest in the Syracuse Second Ward, said. “But we knew there would be something fun to do anyway.” As everyone registered, chess and checkers tournaments and backgammon, Parcheesi, and other games kept those waiting occupied.
“It was cold outside, but indoors the games were nice, because we got to sit and talk and know people and find out why they believe in the Church and that they do believe in it,” said Mary Jane Morgan, a 15-year-old nonmember who accompanied her friend Sherry Jenkins of the Oneida Branch.
A letter-writing campaign was initiated, too, to encourage each participant to send a note of appreciation to his or her parents. Stationery and stamps were furnished by the youth leaders. “The letter-writing was planned as a way to let some of the kids open up communication with their parents,” said Shelley Moran, 17, chairman of the youth committee that planned the entire outing. “In fact, the whole theme of the talks and firesides seemed to be communication—how to get along with friends, parents, and Church members, how to share feelings with those you’re close to.”
The rain kept pouring. But inside the main lodge it was warm and dry and time for a dance. Chairs and tables were moved to the side of the hall, and soon the beat and the melodies chased away any blues brought on by lack of snow. Even the chaperones joined in the fun, twirling and swirling over the hardwood.
Committee members realized that their peers probably wouldn’t be eager to go straight to bed, so they planned a post-dance fireside to create a reflective mood. Bishop Parry A. Rasmusson of the Syracuse First Ward spoke about peer pressure, and Sister Gail Skinner, stake Laurel adviser, talked about maintaining quality in dating relationships. “The bishop gave some hints about avoiding negative peer pressure that I think will help me in a situation with one of my friends,” Elizabeth Chamberlain, a 16-year-old member of his ward, said.
As the young ladies filed off to the dormitory at the rear of the lodge and the young men rushed through the rain to various cabins where they were housed, the topics of the firesides were discussed over and over. Once the young people were in their bunks, only a pillow fight or two disturbed the silence until the weary young Saints succumbed to sleep.
While they were sleeping, a transformation took place outside. For the first time in weeks, flakes floated from the clouds to the hard-packed surface on the ground. It wasn’t a major storm, just enough of a flurry to build some fluff at foot level. But for the snow-starved New Yorkers, it was ample cause for celebration. When they awoke the next morning and saw powder, they could hardly rush through breakfast fast enough to get outside.
“We couldn’t believe it had really snowed,” said Susan Richards, 17, of the Syracuse First Ward. “But it sure was good to see it.”
Unfortunately, the snow wasn’t deep enough for downhill skiing or for snow sculpturing. Snowshoeing plans were abandoned; so were plans for classes about building snow structures. But every pair of cross-country skis furnished by the camp was used sometime during the day. One of the adult supervisors organized an orienteering class that sent compass watchers wandering in search of markers all through the area. Downhill sliding on toboggans, coats, sacks, plastic, and parkas marked a path down a nearby slope. And when someone found a soccer ball in a car trunk, most of the male population of the conference hurried to a local field for a marathon football match. (So what if the ball was round?)
And of course there were snowball fights. Not just run-of-the-mill skirmishes, but full-fledged attacks and counter-attacks. There was just one difficulty—the snow was too dry to pack. So instead of flinging iceballs at each other, the snowballers threw white puffs that inflicted no damage more severe than a wet face or fogged glasses.
Despite fierce headwinds, many of the conference-goers listed the skiing as their favorite activity. One group ventured out on the hard, thick Star Lake ice, thinking skiing would be simple on the level, slippery surface. Going one way, the wind almost pushed them along. Going the other, its force nearly lifted them off the ice. No matter which direction they went, a powder of ice crystals whipped through the air.
“I’m so skinny I was afraid I’d blow away,” said Karen Kerns, 14, an investigator attending the Fulton Ward. “I leaned on my poles to hold myself up and let the wind move me across the lake.”
But for Mike Dippold, a 17-year-old in the Syracuse First Ward, the football game was the highlight of the outdoor sports. “I’ve never seen such sportsmanship!” Mike said. “It was a hard-fought game, but no one got mad.”
Fred Pappa, 15, of the Fulton Ward, agreed. “I’ve been playing football for five years, and I’ve never been in a game where everyone was courteous like they were out there today. One of the counselors said it was the best game for sportsmanship he’d ever seen.”
Fred said he felt the same attitude extended to other activities of the weekend. “The camp directors always like our group,” he continued. “We take an interest in them and ask questions about what’s going on. And they’re impressed by our language and the way we act. We don’t mess everything up; we take good care of things. We’ve been coming to Star Lake for years, and the only thing ever damaged was a pillow.”
The camp director remains impressed by the young Mormons. He and his wife spent more than an hour discussing the Church with adult leaders. A Book of Mormon received during earlier visits with full-time missionaries was opened again and passages reread. During testimony meetings, he and his wife listened attentively to the sincere emotions of their teenage friends.
In between all of the outdoor sport activities, there were hot chocolate breaks and lunches, then finally dinner, and the second night featured another dance, followed by an adventure movie about John Wesley Powell’s exploration of the Colorado River.
Before the movie began, some of the youths shared their feelings about the conference, about being young Latter-day Saints in New York, about missionary work, and about families.
“It’s good to see a big group of Mormons like this and know you’re not the only one,” Elizabeth said. “At my high school there are only five of us. We hang around together, and the other kids know we’re LDS. It’s nice to have them keep an eye on me, and I keep an eye on them. There are an awful lot of temptations, so I need them. My main friends are in the Church. Our lockers are in the same area; we get together before we go home and talk things over. But here at the conference there were a lot of us. It was good to see so many others who are trying to live the standards of the Church.”
Shelley talked about the difficulties she faces being a cheerleader in her high school, as well as being one of only three young people in her ward. “It’s hard to stay involved in planning Church activities when there’s so much going on at school, too. But the Church activities are important. I rely on the other committee members in the stake to do their jobs, and they count on me to do the same.
“My friends used to tease me about being a Church member,” she continued. “But they don’t bother me anymore.” She also said that anyone she dates meets her parents first, and that she goes on a lot of group dates.
Karen said she thought writing to her parents and sharing her experiences at the conference with them was a good idea. They aren’t members of the Church, and she wanted to share some of her enjoyment with them. She was first introduced to the Church by her next-door neighbors, who invited her to a home evening, then to worship services. “Now I go to church every Sunday, even though I’m not a member yet,” she said. “I do my seminary, too. Having friends who are members has given me a place to turn for support.”
Tim Halstead, 14, of the Fulton Ward, said he had learned something by obeying the camp regulations. “If you live a rule for a day or so,” he said, “it gets easier. Once you’re used to it, it’s not so hard to do.”
Dan Barker, 14, of the Watertown Ward, said he felt closer to the others at the conference because “we had a chance to get to know each other better.”
Jackie Biggs, 17, from the Syracuse First Ward, said the discussions at the conference had helped her understand ways in which she could improve her relationship with her parents. “Sometimes it seems like lessons don’t apply, but this one did. Sometimes I forget my parents are human, too.”
Jackie’s sentiments reflected feelings a lot of others shared, both during a testimony meeting and during an early morning seminary session.
“After the seminary lesson on parent-child relationships, my mother (who, as stake Young Women president, was at the conference) told me that she loved me,” Sherry said. “My back was to her and I didn’t hear her for sure. I thought maybe I was just wishing. Then turned around and saw her.”
Mike said his brother recently left for college and his sister got married, and he didn’t realize until they were both gone how much his parents meant to him. “I’ll try to learn from them from now on instead of just brushing it off,” he said.
President Ronald L. Scholl, second counselor in the stake presidency, was so impressed by the letter-writing idea that he promised he would write home to his mother. Other adults promised to do the same thing and to express their feelings to their children as well.
Susan said that for her the best part of the conference was the testimony meeting. “Everybody grows a little closer to the Savior during a testimony meeting. And your testimony grows stronger each time you bear it,” she said.
Margo White, 15, of the Tully Branch, said she enjoyed holding seminary as a stake group. “There are only four of us in the branch seminary,” she said. “We usually have our class on Sunday.”
Jackie was a fan of the scripture chase contest. “It helps me to learn scriptures that I might not otherwise learn. I need a little bit of encouragement, and scripture chase provides it.”
Star Lake 1980 wasn’t the usual Winter Weekend for the New York Syracuse Stake. Drifts weren’t deep enough to swallow cars whole. But it seemed fairly evident to everyone there that there was the same amount, if not more, of the spirit of fellowship and learning that has made the annual affair a lasting memory in the minds of the youth of the central upstate area of New York.
The banner the non-Mormon camp director taped to the front of the lodge welcoming the Latter-day Saints to the conference seemed to indicate he enjoys having them here. And a note from an anonymous teenager, scribbled in chalk on a blackboard, let the director know that the Mormons felt the same way and that they would be back next year.
“‘Bye Star Lake,” it said. “You were great! From the LDS youth.’”

There comes a time in all of our lives when we question the existence of our testimony. For me it came when I discovered that though within my mind I knew the Church to be true, within my heart there had been no such witness, or so I supposed.

I wanted my own special witness. I prayed and fasted, fasted and prayed. Finally one day, as I sat in sacrament meeting, my heart began to tremble and my eyes began to water. This is something that often happens to me in testimony and sacrament meetings. I realized then that this was my witness that the gospel is true. I knew that I had always known the Church to be true.

Do not be ashamed to admit you do not know the Church is true. We all must be converted to the gospel spiritually, no matter how many generations our families have been in the Church.
Tony S. RollsWestmead, Australia

The link also created new twists. Two of Christine’s cousins, Sharon and Shailani Realigue, noticed the special kind of friendship between their cousin and her two friends. Christine introduced the Church to them, they were baptized, and the two cousins started to help reactivate less-active young women. They visited with Margie Paragoso, and that led the way for the baptism of Margie’s mother, sister-in-law, and cousin. “I really think this wouldn’t be possible were it not for my cousin’s example,” Sharon says.