Gospel Story Finder

The place we chose to visit was the Gulf of California near Puerto Peñasco, Mexico. Our family had vacationed there before, and it was only about a six-hour drive from our home. In addition, at times of new and full moon the tides at Puerto Penasco are so extreme that the water surface fluctuates over 20 feet up and down twice daily, alternately exposing and covering a rocky reef several hundred yards out from shore. At low tide it is actually possible to wade out to this reef, where one can find a number of creatures usually not seen on the beach.
Our first trip was a two-nighter, and we had the good fortune to collect a wide variety of life forms and get most of them back alive. Included in our catch were about a dozen different species of fish, several different types of sea star, a diverse assortment of crabs, shrimp, clams, snails and barnacles, and some sea hares.
We brought our collection home in ordinary Styrofoam ice chests. To help the creatures survive the trip, we turned the car air conditioner on full blast to keep the water as cool as possible. Low temperatures reduce animals’ activity rates and decrease their need for oxygen. But we still added some oxygen to the water by means of battery-operated bubblers.
In addition to collecting specimens to add to our pond, we also collected data on sea surface and beach temperatures, so as to increase our knowledge of the best method of operating the pond’s temperature control system. To do this, we used an infrared thermometer that gave us the temperature measurements we sought by merely pointing the instrument’s heat radiation sensor at either the land or the water.
As soon as we arrived home, we added our catch to the pond. Normally, we would have taken an hour or two to get the creatures used to their new water; but after traveling so long with such a small volume of water, we felt it best to get them into the “fresh” salt water as soon as possible.
Much to our delight, everything survived and has continued to prosper to this day—except for those creatures that have served as food for others. Our bullseye puffers, for instance, ate the barnacles and sea hares, and our larger crabs devoured a lot of clams and snails as well as each other! Now, however, even they are beginning to disappear; for on our last trip, we brought home an octopus, and crab meat is a temptation he just can’t resist.

I always remembered his words, especially when I faced a challenge. For example, one time my mother gave me money to go to a store to buy some fruit. For some reason the cashier gave me back more money than I gave her to pay for the fruit. I started walking home, and when I opened my hand, I saw that I had more money than I had started with.
Satan tried to convince me that I could keep the money for myself. I thought, “I have some money to do whatever I want, and then I will give back the correct change to my mother.” But then I thought, “No, that’s not what the bishop told me. To be a missionary, I have to be honest.” I felt the Spirit at that time and went back to the store to give back the money. I felt good in my heart. I thought, “I was honest, I obeyed the commandments, and I am preparing for my mission. I will be a missionary, and I need to be honest.”

On a recent trip to Hermanus, South Africa, I learned the importance of agency. This small coastal town is about a 90-minute drive from Cape Town and is one of the many beautiful beach towns along the coast. The waves were rolling in as I headed down to the beach to surf with a friend.
Once we had off-loaded the surfboards, I stood in the warm white sand and stared at the beach, squinting at the sun in disbelief. The lifeguard had already put up the swimming zone flags, but they were less than 50 meters (165 feet) apart! The beach was several hundred meters long, and all the good waves were outside the swimming zone. How was anybody supposed to swim between those two red-and-yellow striped flags? Was he just being lazy because he didn’t want to watch all the way down the beach?
My friend and I are pretty good swimmers, so we decided to head out to the right of the flagged area. As I walked out through the white water, I could feel the strong pull of the water washing past my legs, but I could still stand against the current, so I kept going. When I was in deep enough, I got on my board and paddled out to the unbroken swells. The waves kept coming, and we surfed for a while, enjoying catching the waves and watching each other catch the waves.
I turned around to look at the beach and suddenly noticed that I was rapidly drifting away from where I had started—the flags were far away! What I didn’t know about and couldn’t see was a large sandbar on the ocean floor, and as the tide was coming in, the water was washing over the sides of the sandbar, creating a powerful wash on both sides of the flagged area. The lifeguard knew that; he had been sitting there the whole day watching the water, so he knew where it was safe to swim.
I turned my board around and began paddling back toward the swimming zone. I paddled my hardest, but there was no way I could swim against the strong current. I was drifting farther out to sea! Panicking, I got off my board and tried to walk. My feet just touched the ocean floor, and I felt my toes dragging in the sand beneath. I could not hold myself against the thousands of tons of water moving past me, so I had to get back on my board. I lay there, powerless and drifting. I waved to my friend to help, but he was caught by the same current.
“Would the lifeguard still rescue me, even though I had ignored his warning?” I wondered. I had made the decision to swim in the no-swim zone and now had to accept the consequence—loss of control. I was being pulled by forces much stronger than I was. My only hope was to catch a wave back to the beach before I was pulled into the sharp rocks at the end of the beach. Eventually, a wave came, and I managed to ride it back to shore as did my friend.
We sheepishly walked back to the swimming zone and enjoyed the rest of the day surfing between the flags. Each time one of us began drifting too close to the edge of the swimming zone, we would warn each other to come back.

I opened the door a little, but an enormous barrier divided us still. I stood back, away from her. I felt swollen and sore from so many tears, forever isolated by shame and disgrace, absolutely empty of any hope of future happiness. The girl at the front door was a numbing reminder of the most hateful part of all: that everyone knew.
But into my unyielding dimness, Karen spoke quietly. “Come back to school, Heather. No one will hold what your dad did against you.” That was all. I closed the door firmly without a word.
I listened to her walk away, my feelings unraveling with each footstep, my thoughts trailing backward.
My 13-year-old world fell apart when the local newspaper revealed, without feeling, the enormous surprise: Mr. David McPhie,* bookkeeper and owner of McPhie Accounting, was convicted of embezzlement and would serve his sentence in the jail across the river. It seemed so impossible, so comically bizarre. But it was so painfully real.
The subsequent events are unclear and without sequence to me now, obscured not only by time, but by the confusion and withdrawal I was feeling then. Dad was gone. He never said “I’m sorry I have destroyed you” or “I regret turning out to be a stranger you never really knew.” Mom was unreachable, struggling herself to cope. She offered no explanation of why this had happened or how to go on.
The sheriff came into our home. Everything of value was seized: records, books, furniture, the bed Dad had made me with the headboard shelf for pretty things, the piano. Mom and I slept on mattresses on the floor of one empty bedroom. Did we cook and eat? What activities filled the empty days? I can’t remember. Focused on my own grief in an intense and self-centered way, I clung to one determination: I would never go back to school.
I don’t know how many days I’d been away from school when Karen came. And I don’t know how many days it was after she came that I went back to school.
Karen was there for me when I went back, gentle, with no questions. And other friends I didn’t know I had were there, too: enough of them to elect me secretary of the student council; to teach a shy girl that if you are brave enough to smile first, others will smile back; to show me I could survive.
In the years that followed, our lives went different ways. My family was put back together. I learned to love my dad again. Then I moved miles away.
Through the rest of growing up, through high school and college and marriage and children and all the ups and downs in between, I’ve often thought about Karen. About a principal calling a few students into his office to show them a newspaper headline and to ask them how they could help. About one girl saying, “I’ll go.” About which way my life might have gone without that one pivotal act of reaching out.

This light will keep the kittens warm tonight. It’s bedtime for everyone!
You can play with the kittens tomorrow.
Go check the kittens.
Where did that thought come from?
Go check the kittens!
Oh no!
Daddy, the kittens’ box almost caught on fire!
How did you know to check on the kittens?
I kept having a thought, kind of like a voice. I think it was the Holy Ghost.
I think you’re right. I’m glad you listened.
Me too! I’m glad the Holy Ghost helped us.
See Come, Follow Me for Enos–Words of Mormon.

Thirty-six years ago I served a mission in southeast Mexico. At that time there were no stakes, with the largest cities in the mission having only two branches. There were limited opportunities for education and much poverty. With two or three exceptions, all the missionaries were from the United States.
I remember the people of the Nealtican Branch. All buildings in the town were made of adobe, except the Catholic cathedral and the LDS chapel. I remember standing in the small adobe house of the branch president. It had a dirt floor, windows with no glass, and a rug hanging over the entryway. There was no furniture in the house. His family had no shoes.
But they were a happy people. He told me that they had sold everything they had to buy bus tickets to the Mesa temple, where they were sealed for time and all eternity. Many of the branch members had done the same thing.

Weeks later their farm sold, and her family joined several others in a small wagon train. With Brother Brigham leading the way, they started on their journey to Kirtland.
The wagons traveled slowly, and baby Anna got sick. Just when Mary Ann thought that they’d never get to Kirtland, Brother Reed ran alongside their wagon. “Kirtland’s just around the bend!”
The people urged their tired oxen on. Mary Ann bounced up and down on the wagon seat. Then she jumped down and ran ahead with the other children. As she turned the corner in the road, her heart sank. Where were all the beautiful buildings? Where was the temple Brother Reed had talked about? Kirtland was just a raw frontier town.
She plodded back to her parents. “I don’t like Kirtland,” she told them. “It’s ugly.”
Her mother smiled at her. “It’s just not finished yet. It’ll be beautiful some day. We’ll help to make it so.”
Brother Reed came and took Mary Ann by the hand. “Come with me.” He took her along a dirt road past a store and around the corner to the edge of a field. “This is where we will build the house of the Lord. When it is finished, it will be shiny and white and wonderful! It will be a fit place for the Lord.”
Mary Ann felt that sweet feeling she now recognized as the Holy Ghost. Maybe things weren’t what she expected, and maybe it would be hard to build a home again, but she knew that her family was doing what was right.
She looked at the field. It might be a long time before the temple was built, but it would be a temple of the Lord!

I recently met a young missionary who is a great example of the sacrifice and gratitude Elder Bednar describes. Elder Rabemananjaina is from the town of Toamasina in Madagascar and is a very recent convert who was the only one to join the Church in his family. After his conversion, he desired to serve a mission and discussed this with his branch and district president. Although it would have been easy for the branch president to simply submit this eager young convert’s mission papers once he expressed the desire, these wise leaders taught the good young man the importance of making a meaningful personal sacrifice of time as well as money. So they agreed on a personal goal for how much he would earn before submitting his mission application. He then diligently and very willingly spent the next year working hard in various jobs and was able to save the money needed to meet the goal. Elder Rabemananjaina’s mother is not a member of the Church but is very proud of her son and knows how hard he has worked for the privilege of serving the Lord on his mission. When the mission president visited her following a devastating cyclone which severely damaged her home, he was deeply touched to see that one of her remaining prized possessions was a copy of the area plan, proudly displayed on the wall alongside a photo of her missionary son.
This well-prepared missionary did not hesitate when his priesthood leaders told him he needed to wait and work to demonstrate meaningful sacrifice for the privilege of serving the Lord. Now he is full of enthusiasm and gratitude to be sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ in his own country.

Romero had been looking forward to this day for a very long time. This was the day his mother and he had planned on going to the park. But that morning his mother had been called away to help a neighbor who was very ill. When she left, she promised Romero that they would still go to the park when she returned if he would do some of the household chores while she was gone. Romero told her that he would.
After his mother left, Romero started to do the things she had asked him to do. Then his friend José came by and wanted to play. Romero remembered what his mother had asked him to do and her promise that they would go to the park if he was obedient. He told José that he couldn’t play just then because he had work to do. José went home, and Romero hurried to finish the chores. When his mother came home, she was happy to see that he had done what she had asked. Because he had, she kept her promise and together they spent the afternoon at the park.

Bob:
Before Lori and I were married, we talked about serving missions when we retired. We had both served missions before. Lori served in Kobe, Japan, and I served in Brisbane, Australia. When we finally got around to getting ready to retire, we told our kids we wanted to serve lots of missions.
We were fortunate to be able to retire young. When we had heard that some senior couples are unable to serve in some places like third world countries because of health issues and other concerns, we thought, “We’re not even 60 yet. We’re healthy, so use us!”
I retired just two days after my 56th birthday. We actually received our mission call when I was still working. When we opened our call and found out that we were called to serve in the Cambodia Phnom Penh Mission, we wept. We were excited!
Lori:
Cambodia wasn’t really on our radar. I figured we’d go to Africa or something. We started asking ourselves, “OK, what adventures await us?” We wouldn’t have picked Cambodia, but what a gift! What a blessing! The Lord is smarter than we are. He sent us where we needed to be.
We served a humanitarian mission. We worked on projects for LDS Charities, filled out reports, and asked for new projects. We also checked on past projects such as wells that had been drilled two years before. We ended up serving in other ways too.
We attended stake and district conferences to help train leaders and missionaries, we inspected missionary apartments and visited members in their homes. We did all sorts of things to help the mission run smoothly.
No two days were the same on our mission. Some days we were out in the bush, knee-deep in water or mud. Other days were spent in the mission office. With Public Affairs missionaries, we visited the Ministry of Cults and Religion. In Cambodia, the term “cult” isn’t necessarily a bad thing. The official religion is Buddhism—everything else is considered a cult. We visited the Ministry to help set the precedent that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is a good organization and can be trusted.
We developed a good rapport with them, and they were quick to call for help. They’d call and say, “We’ve had a flood, and we need food for 200 families who have been displaced.” They knew they could rely on the Church to get stuff to where it was needed fast and supplement the things they didn’t have.
What did we experience in Cambodia? You name it, we probably experienced it! We have sat on the most humble floors—usually just dirt or bamboo—in the most humble homes. We’ve also been to the palatial homes of government officials. Bob even served in a branch presidency for a while.
Bob:
The mission president called me and said, “Hey, I want you to be the second counselor in a branch.” A year and a half later, I was in the sealing room of the Hong Kong China Temple with the branch president I served with. He was going through the temple for the first time! He and his family had saved money and tried seven times to get to the temple, but there would be an accident, or someone would get sick. Something always came up. After seven years, they had saved only 40 dollars.
Three times on our mission, we were able to help Latter-day Saints in Cambodia attend the temple. We took lots of branch presidents who had been doing interviews for temple recommends but had never been to the temple themselves. At least in Cambodia, a senior couple would assist these families on their way to the temple. They need to have someone with them because they don’t know how to fly on a plane. Many haven’t even ridden on a bus! And now they’ve got to fly to Hong Kong and make their way to the temple. It was difficult for them to do that on their own. We are grateful for the Temple Patron Assistance Fund that helped take care of them.
Lori:
Being a member of the Church in Cambodia can be challenging. As a country, Cambodia doesn’t have a Sabbath mentality. Everybody who comes to church has to make sacrifices to be there.
Also, Cambodia is six percent Muslim and only two percent Christian—the rest are Buddhists. Shifting from a Buddhist lifestyle to a Christian lifestyle is very difficult. Some people still lose their jobs, and a lot of times they are shunned by others in the neighborhood.
Tithing is also a big deal. Buddhist monks will come around every morning and ask for rice or some money, and people are used to that. But to take your paycheck and take a slice of that for tithing is a big deal.
Many have had real trauma in their lives. Because of the Khmer Rouge, a communist regime that ruled Cambodia in the late ’70s, everyone over 40 has a personal horror story. I didn’t meet anyone who hadn’t been affected by it. Everyone had family members who were murdered. Even though they’ve been through so much, I couldn’t believe how resilient they were, how willing to try they were. But behind their resilience, many still have low self-esteem. Many don’t feel like they’re important or worth anything.
It was amazing to see how the gospel of Jesus Christ helped them bloom. When they’d find out that they are not only wonderful but also a child of God, they’d say, “You’re kidding? Now I have something to contribute.”
The Church is really going to blossom in Cambodia. Incredible people have been led to the Church. The Saints there are pioneers, and those who really embrace the gospel are blessed in so many ways because they get to know the Savior. It is really amazing.
We have a lot of members and very strong wards around a place called “Trash Mountain,” which is an open dump where people live. Members there are pickers and collectors. They make their money off of recycling plastic and aluminum that they get out of the dump. They live in teeny little houses that we have been to dozens of times.
Bob:
One day we could hear music blaring, and we noticed a tent was being set up. In Cambodia, that either means somebody is getting married or somebody has died.
Lori:
We found out that a mother of five or six kids had just died. There was no husband to speak of. The children just woke up and realized their mom was dead.
One daughter was just sobbing. Through a translator, she said, “I’m the oldest. I’ve got all these siblings. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
I just scooped her up in my arms. How could I not? This girl just lost her mother. I spoke to her in English and said, “I know you don’t understand me, but I promise you will see your mother again. You are going to be OK. You are not going to be left alone.”
So many experiences like this have given us a special connection with the people of Cambodia.
We felt that love back. The people in Cambodia showed us great kindness. We love them because they are children of God. They are our brothers and sisters.
With some people, I remember thinking, “I can’t wait until I see you in the next life, then I’ll really be able to tell you all the things I feel for you and the love I have for you, and what I admire about you, because I can’t say it now.”
Our mission has blessed us in so many ways. Some people say, “I don’t know if I can serve a mission. I can’t leave my grandkids.” We had five little grandsons when we left, ages five, four, three, two, one. Two granddaughters were born while we were gone. I’m going to save two of my Cambodian missionary name tags and give them to my baby girls so they will know that Grandma wasn’t there because Grandma was doing what the Lord needed her to do.
Bob:
There are many ways to serve the Lord as missionaries. We take to heart what Elder Jeffrey R. Holland said about senior missionary service. He said, “I promise you will do things for [your family] in the service of the Lord that, worlds without end, you could never do if you stayed home to hover over them. What greater gift could grandparents give their posterity than to say by deed as well as word, “In this family we serve missions!’ [“We Are All Enlisted,” Liahona, Nov. 2011, 46.]”
“When we found out we were called to serve in the Cambodia Phnom Penh Mission, we wept. We were excited!” Brother Bob Thurston says. “We wouldn’t have picked Cambodia, but what a gift! What a blessing!” Sister Thurston says.
The Thurstons feel a special connection to the people of Cambodia. “We love them, and we have felt that love back,” Sister Thurston says. “People in Cambodia have shown us great kindness.”
Of all the responsibilities the Thurstons had on their mission, they treasure most the opportunity to visit members in their homes.
Sister Thurston remembers looking at those she served in Cambodia and thinking, “I can’t wait until I see you in the next life, then I’ll really be able to tell you all the things I feel for you and the love I have for you.”

Phillis stood on her tiptoes and took a book from the shelf. She sat down in a chair by the window. The pages were very thin, so she turned them carefully.
“Phillis, what are you doing?” asked Miss Mary Wheatley from the doorway.
The little black girl looked up. She hadn’t asked to use the book. Is my mistress angry? she wondered.
But Mary was smiling. “You like books, don’t you, Phillis?” she asked kindly.
The little girl nodded.
Her mistress came over and looked at what Phillis had on her lap. “That’s a book of poems.”
“What are poems?” asked Phillis.
“Words that are put together in a lovely way,” the girl told her.
Just then Nat, Mary’s twin brother, came into the library through another door. “Well, what have we here?” He smiled at the little black girl.
Phillis didn’t say anything. Nathaniel Wheatley wasn’t home very often, and she didn’t know him well.
“We were just talking about books,” his sister told him. “Phillis likes to look at them.”
“Really?” he asked. “Well, Mary, why don’t you teach her to read?”
Mary had hoped her brother would suggest that. He had taught her to read. Not many girls in the 1770s could boast that! She turned to her young servant and asked, “Would you like to learn to read, Phillis?”
The little girl nodded as hard as she could. She looked like a tiny excited bird.
Nat laughed. “You certainly have an eager pupil.” Then he kissed his sister good-bye and set off for downtown Boston to see his father.
“Phillis,” asked her mistress, “would you like to begin today?” Mary was excited too.
“Yes,” answered the little girl in her soft musical voice. “I can hardly wait.”
“Fine,” said Mary. “Some of Mother’s friends are coming to visit in the early afternoon. When they leave, we’ll have our first lesson.”
Phillis closed the book and put it back on the shelf. She knew that it was her job to serve refreshments to the guests.
Soon three ladies were seated in the parlor with Mrs. Wheatley and Mary. Phillis carried a tray into the room. She walked slowly and carefully and didn’t spill anything. She offered the plate of cakes to each woman. Then she poured lemonade into dainty cups. When she left the room, she sat down on a chair outside the door so that she could hear her mistress if she called.
“That girl always seems so cheerful,” she heard one of the ladies say. “My Bertha isn’t like that at all. She never wants to do any work. And when I make her, she grumbles.”
“Phillis is special,” Mrs. Wheatley told the woman. “She’s smart too. A few months ago she had never been away from her African village. And now she speaks good English!”
Phillis felt important when she heard people talk about her that way.
“Today she looks even happier than usual,” another lady said.
Mary smiled. “That’s because we start our lessons this afternoon. I’m going to teach her to read.”
One of the women gasped. “Teach a slave to read? That’s ridiculous! Servants don’t need to read.”
That made Phillis angry. She knew that Mary would tell the woman how wrong she was.
“Well,” said Phillis’s young mistress. “I suppose you’re right.”
The little girl couldn’t believe her ears. She ran up the stairs to her room in the attic, crawled under a dilapidated chair, and hid.
Soon the guests were gone.
“Phillis!” Mary called. “Phillis, you can clear away the dishes now.”
There was no answer. Phillis always came when she was called. Mary began to look for the little girl.
Up in the attic, Phillis heard her mistress. She knew that she might be punished for hiding, but she was so sad that she didn’t care what happened to her.
Finally Mary opened the door to the attic and stepped inside. She saw the edge of Phillis’s dress sticking out from under the chair. Mary pretended not to see her.
“Where could Phillis be?” she said out loud. “I hope she isn’t lost. I’d miss her if she were gone.”
Phillis felt guilty. “Here I am,” she said, crawling out.
“Aha!” cried her mistress. “You aren’t lost after all. You certainly fooled me.” She saw that Phillis wasn’t smiling back at her. “What’s the matter?”
“You told me you’d teach me to read,” she said. “Then that lady said that I didn’t need to learn. And you told her she was right.”
“Goodness!” Mary stooped down and put her hands on Phillis’s shoulders. “I said that she was right that you don’t need to read. But you must have run away before I finished. I told her that a person who wants to read should be able to, even if he doesn’t need to. After all, a lot of people say that girls don’t need to study. But I learn, right along with my brother.”
Phillis opened her eyes wide. “Does that mean you’ll still teach me? You’ll even teach me to read poems?”
“Of course. We’ll start as soon as the dishes are cleared away,” she told the little black girl. “And when you know a few words, I’ll teach you to write them too. Maybe someday you’ll write your very own poems.”
“My very own poems,” said Phillis slowly. She ran out of the attic to finish her work.
Mary smiled as she watched her go. She’s special, she thought. She may be a great woman one day, even if she did come to this country on a slave ship.
Mary Wheatley was right. In the next few years, Phillis learned to read and write English very well. She also studied Latin, ancient history, and mythology. When she was about thirteen, she wrote some poems that were published a few years later. Phillis Wheatley became the first famous black woman writer in America.

The Prophet led the way in physical and moral courage. For example, the morning after he was attacked and tarred and feathered by the mob, he was scraped clean and then preached to a congregation that included his enemies. Not so well known is a similar episode in returning from a Canadian mission in the latter part of 1837. At the time, a friend of the family wrote of the Prophet and his companion Sidney Rigdon making their way back to Kirtland, Ohio, through the swamps at night. They had been unjustly arrested, but they escaped at night, and a mob of men was trying to track them down. Joseph took his older counselor by the hand, and they “covenanted to live and die together.” When the mob came their way, Joseph and Sidney hid on wet ground, hardly breathing for the fear of discovery. The mud-soaked men reached home about 3:00 A.M., sick with fatigue, but after a short sleep Joseph appeared in the temple to speak “in a very powerful manner and blessed the congregation in the name of the Lord.”

Ashley* sweetly said good-bye and walked inside.
I still couldn’t believe my luck. Beautiful Ashley was my girl.
We were the perfect pair. Everybody said so. Late night walks, secret gifts … it was perfect. And nothing could ever tear us apart.
There was one tiny problem: I was 14 and she was 13.
But this was love! We were in love, so did age really matter?
Besides, it’s not like we were really “dating.” We were just two kids who happened to like each other and express it. It started with flirting and shy smiles, and then we held hands. But we were in control. And we were the cutest couple. Everyone said so.
I spent every waking moment with Ashley: at school, at Mutual, and at church. She lived only a few blocks away, so I even sneaked over to her house to spend more time with her. Everything was fantastic—but really, it wasn’t.
Our leaders and parents warned us not to date before we were 16, but I just figured they didn’t really understand our situation. We were good kids, and we were keeping the law of chastity, so the whole “no dating” thing wasn’t really for us, right? We were meant to be!
Turns out, we weren’t. Before long, Ashley found someone else and left me shattered. She stopped talking to me and lied about me to my friends, and I was heartbroken. So heartbroken that it threw me into a deep depression.
My thoughts turned dark, and I cried almost every night. I started ditching church to avoid Ashley. I refused to talk to my parents, ignored my friends, and drifted away from Heavenly Father. I felt completely alone and hopeless. It took a year of struggling, but slowly I began to feel better and happier, and I began to return to God as well.
No matter what I’d believed, I wasn’t an exception to the rule. I’d ignored the prophet’s counsel to not date before 16 or pair off exclusively or get physical too early, and there were consequences. I unlocked my heart and got too attached before it was time for me to love someone in that way. I became too emotionally dependent before my emotions were fully developed. I missed out on a lot because I was so caught up in “love” and then too caught up in my sadness.
My life would have been much easier and happier if I had just lived the dating standards. Maybe my leaders didn’t know about my situation, but the Lord did. The Lord perfectly understands every situation we are in. And He is the one giving us standards to live by. He is the one advising us to not date before we are 16 and to not steady date until we’re ready to consider marriage.
Even after I turned 16, I was careful to get to know lots of people and to not steady date. And sometimes it was still tough! It’s hard to resist the urge to jump into a relationship, especially when you find out your crush likes you back! It’s even harder to do the right thing when you’re already in a relationship. But now is the time to lock your heart. I know that no matter how hard it is to end or stay out of romantic relationships, it is always worth it to keep the standards the Lord has given us.

I’m tired of counting cows and license plates. It’s my turn to read the new Friend.
Not till I finish reading Sister Simon’s Saints.
Simple Simon’s Saints is dumb. I want to do the Funstuf.
Mom, Dad—Matt’s being rude! He called Sister Simon’s Saints “Simple Simon’s Saints.”
Dad, Mom—make her give me the Friend. It’s my turn.
What do you think Jesus would do?
OK, keep it then.
No, you take it.
Isn’t there a way you can both be happy?
Hey what if we read Sister Simon’s Saints together, and then did a puzzle?
OK!

The year before last was challenging for me. My dad was battling cancer, and there were terrorist attacks in my city. I struggled with anxiety, wondering how I could feel peace when I feared for my spiritual and physical safety. From general conference I learned that we can find peace as we live virtuously, fill our hearts with faith, and keep an eternal perspective. I was inspired to turn to Christ in times of difficulty instead of depending on my own understanding. I know that I can overcome the influences of darkness by seeking the brightness of Christ’s light.
Olivia H., age 17, Belgium

In my early childhood I lost both my parents. Aunt Gu Ma, a single sister of my father, kept my brother and me together. She brought us up in a little farming village where she grew vegetables for a living. Every morning she would carry the produce to the market in two big baskets, one on each end of a long pole resting on her shoulders. She then would bring home rice and meat purchased with the proceeds of her vegetable sales.
Aunt Gu Ma was a wonderful person. Although she had no formal education, she had a noble philosophy of life. She instilled in us correct principles, stern self-reliance, and an appreciation for the value of hard work. We are forever grateful for her love and sacrifice in our behalf.

I may not have met him physically, but spiritually I feel I have. Whenever I read his inspired messages, I imagine him talking to me one-to-one with his hand on my shoulder. A First Presidency Message entitled “Life’s Obligations” (see Ensign, Feb. 1999, 2) helped me understand that although income is important, I do not need to be a multimillionaire to be happy. This message has brought me inner peace and satisfaction.
Encouraged also by the prophet’s counsel in that same message not to waste the great days of preparation for my future work, I decided to enroll in a computer engineering training college for one year. I was undertaking my one year of National Youth Service in Nigeria and resolved to use my time judiciously. At the end of the program, I knew how to repair and install computer systems. Now my first successful appointment after my year of service is based on my added knowledge of computer systems.

When I was twelve years old, we had a community fathers-and-sons banquet in Idaho Falls. President George Albert Smith, the President of the Church, was the speaker. After the banquet, we lined up to shake his hand. When my turn came, President Smith took my hand and spoke to me. I don’t remember what he said, but I shall never forget what I felt. From that moment, I wanted to be in the presence of the prophets.

Another source of strength is the example members provide for those who are interested in the gospel. Such an example helped bring Adrien and Greta Teihotaata and their children into the Church. Although they had been without religion for years, “we decided we wanted to change,” Sister Teihotaata says. “We asked the Lord to guide us.” Just a few days later, neighbors invited them to an open house at the Uturoa Ward. “We decided to come back on Sunday,” Brother Teihotaata recalls, “and at church, we were impressed that everyone was involved—teaching, going to classes, taking care of children. They really seemed to love each other.”
It was fast Sunday, and “when testimony meeting began, we felt something peaceful we had never felt before—the Holy Ghost. We said, ‘This is something we need,’” Sister Teihotaata says. The family met with the missionaries and continued learning. Though their oldest son did not join the Church, Brother and Sister Teihotaata and their five other children were baptized and confirmed in 1998. Since then, keeping the commandments, studying the scriptures, and going to the temple “has strengthened us in our testimony, and so has the continuing example of members who have taught us and helped us,” says Sister Teihotaata.

Thanks to Scout training and quick thinking, a tragedy was averted in Charlotte, North Carolina. Todd Smith of the Charlotte Second Ward saved the life of a five-year-old after the youngster was hit by a car.
The child was riding a tricycle when a slow-moving car hit him and knocked him unconscious. Todd saw the accident and after telling his mother to call for help, he ran to the little boy. Todd found that the child’s tongue was blocking his throat. Todd cleared the child’s air passage and helped stop the bleeding from a head wound. Todd also prevented anyone from moving the child until the rescue squad arrived, in case there were any back or neck injuries.
Todd received a Medal of Merit and was honored for his quick action.