Gospel Story Finder

My husband and I have three children—Thomas (6), Tucker (4), and Madison (1). Thomas and Tucker are learning in Primary about baptism and sharing the gospel.
One day, the children and I were at the doctor’s office. A woman with a very small baby came in. The boys love their younger sister, and they were interested in the woman’s baby. I told the boys to sing the baby a song instead of trying to touch it. They looked at each other, then started to sing “I Am a Child of God.”
Upon finishing the song, Thomas looked straight into the mother’s eyes and said, “You know, we are all children of God. Me, my brother, you, your baby, my mom, my sister. Do you go to church? We should all go to church.”
The mother sat there smiling. It was a very touching moment that ended when the nurse called us in to see the doctor.
We don’t know if we’ll ever see the mother and her baby again. What I know is that Thomas and Tucker are practicing the lessons they are learning in Primary and at home about sharing the gospel. And that I should feel comfortable sharing the gospel whenever possible. I pray that they will continue to share the gospel as they grow and that they will always love Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ as they do now.

“I don’t want to go to Grandma’s cabin,” Jacob cried.
“Jacob,” Mom said gently, “I know going there will be hard, but we want to do this for Grandma. We’ve always celebrated your birthday at the cabin.”
“But that was before … before … Grandpa died.”
“I know,” Mom said. “We’re all sad about losing Grandpa, so we need to help each other. We’ll get through this together, OK?”
“OK,” he said softly.
Jacob had always looked forward to being at the cabin together. He and Grandpa had been fishing buddies. But now Grandpa was gone.
“There’s Grandma and Big Red!” Mom said the next day as they pulled into the cabin’s driveway. Dad and Mom hopped out of the car to hug and kiss Grandma. Big Red barked and wagged his tail.
Jacob took his time getting out of the car. With dragging feet, he slowly approached Grandma.
“Oh, I’m so glad you came,” Grandma said, hugging him.
“I love you, Grandma,” Jacob said softly.
When Jacob walked inside the cabin, he saw a fire crackling in the fireplace. The table was set, and colorful balloons and streamers were everywhere. A big banner over the fireplace read, “Happy Birthday, Jacob!”
Jacob tried to look happy, but memories of Grandpa were everywhere. It just hurt so much that he wasn’t here. Jacob bit his lip to keep the tears back.
After dinner Grandma brought in Jacob’s birthday cake with 11 twinkling candles. “Make a wish and blow out the candles,” she said.
Jacob felt a stab of sadness remembering how Grandpa always put one trick candle on his cake. He blew hard. All the candles went out. Then one sputtered and lit up again. Everyone laughed.
“I couldn’t let your birthday pass without playing Grandpa’s silly little trick on you,” Grandma said.
After cake, Grandma gave Jacob a birthday card. “Grandpa wanted me to give this to you.”
Jacob noticed her tears. He took the card. “Could I open it by myself outside?” he asked quietly.
“That would be just fine,” Grandma said.
When Jacob came back inside, his eyes were red, but he smiled and said, “Grandpa said I could have his fishing rod and his good reel.”
“Yes, I know.” Grandma took the rod off the pole rack and handed it to Jacob. “Grandpa found a new lake last summer. He asked me to take you there for your birthday.”
The next morning Jacob and Grandma loaded their fishing gear in the car. As soon as Big Red saw they were ready to leave, he took one leap and landed in the seat next to Jacob. Grandma’s laughter and happy memories of Grandpa lightened Jacob’s heart as they drove to the lake.
“Hang on,” Grandma said as the car bounced over the road. “We’ll have to hike now,” she said, stopping the car.
After they’d walked for a while, Grandma stopped and pointed ahead. “There’s the lake. You can see it just through those trees.” She sat down under a big tree with a book. “I’ll stay here and watch. Big Red will go with you, but call out if you need anything.”
Jacob was glad Grandma was letting him go to the shore alone. It made him feel closer to Grandpa.
Two hours later Jacob came trudging back to Grandma with Big Red romping beside him.
“Any luck?” Grandma called.
Jacob frowned and shook his head. But then he pulled his hand out from behind his back. “Ta da!” He held up his line with five beautiful trout dangling from it.
“Native cutthroats!” Grandma said. Those were Grandpa’s favorite trout. “We’ll fry them up for dinner.”
“Grandma, it was great down there,” Jacob said as he sat down beside her. “Next time will you come with me? Maybe we could be fishing buddies.”
“I’d like that,” Grandma said.
Jacob wrapped his arms around Big Red. “I felt like Grandpa was with me.” Tears slowly trickled down his face. “I cried really hard, but then I felt like I could talk to him.” He looked at Grandma, and she was crying too.
“I didn’t want to come here for my birthday because of Grandpa, but now I’m glad I did.”
Grandma stared up at the trees. “I felt that way too. I cried a lot the first day I was up here.” Grandma put her arm around him. “It’s all right to be sad. Even though we know Grandpa is in a good place, we miss him, don’t we?”
Jacob nodded. They sat quietly for a long time, thinking about Grandpa and enjoying the mountains he had loved.
“Let’s go, shall we?” Grandma finally said. “We’ve got to get ready for our fish fry tonight.”
Jacob reached down to help Grandma up. Big Red raced ahead of them to the car. “This is the happiest but saddest birthday I’ve ever had. Does that make sense?”
“That makes perfectly good sense to me.”
“I’m thankful that Heavenly Father gave me such a good grandpa,” Jacob said.
“Oh, yes. I am too.”
“And you know what? I’m thankful He gave me a wonderful grandma like you.”
We all grieve (or react to death) in different ways.
There’s no one way to feel. You might feel angry or lonely or numb. You might not cry or even feel sad right away.
It might take a long time to not feel so sad. Even after grief fades, it can still come back.
It’s OK to have fun or laugh or feel happy. It doesn’t mean you don’t love the person who died.
Even if you trust Heavenly Father and know you’ll see your loved ones again, you can still be sad when they die.
It’s OK to talk about and remember the person who died, even if it makes you feel sad.
When Lazarus died, Jesus knew He would bring Lazarus back to life. But Jesus still wept (see John 11:32–36). Jesus cares when we are sad. Because of His Atonement, He understands our grief (see Alma 7:11–12).
Write a letter of things you wish you could say to the person who died.
Make a memory box of keepsakes or photos.
Talk to someone else who loved the person.
Draw a picture of the person or of your family now.
If you know someone who is grieving, show you love them, even if you don’t know what to say. Spend time with them, let them talk if they want, and help them in little ways.

When I turned 18, I wanted to serve a full-time mission and help in the Lord’s work. I eagerly told my parents about my plan and how I wanted to invite people to come unto Jesus Christ by helping them receive and live the principles and ordinances of the gospel. Their response surprised me. They said it broke their hearts to think of me leaving on a mission, and I had to choose: my family or my mission.
I was shocked when I heard those words. Immediately I went to the Church building near our home and entered one of its rooms to kneel and ask Heavenly Father, “What will I do? What will I choose: my family or my mission? Both are important to me.”
While on my knees, the words of the missionaries came to mind: “Whatever God commands, do it.”
I love my family and want to be with them forever. I respect their feelings. Yet the scripture says, “To obey is better than sacrifice” (1 Samuel 15:22). The Spirit of the Lord filled me, and I was strengthened. I decided to serve because I knew Heavenly Father would help my family understand.
I went home only to be sent away by my father’s angry words and told to never return. Not knowing where to go, I packed my things. I was not a bit scared, because I knew the Lord was with me, that He has a plan for every family, and that someday my family would understand this beautiful plan.
I was only a few steps away from home when my mother caught me. She embraced me and said how much she loved me. As I left, I could see her crying with all the love and pain of a mother seeing her child go.
For over a year, I stayed in the house of a returned missionary I had met when I was an investigator. The Lord was true to His promise in 1 Nephi 3:7—He provided the way so I could obey His commandments. He sent this selfless and generous man to provide for me and to create a spiritual environment where I could prepare for my mission. I felt the hand of God sustaining me through my challenges. I felt the love of our Savior Jesus Christ through His atoning sacrifice. This love carried me through my trials until I was set apart as a full-time missionary in the Philippines Cauayan Mission.
A few months later, I received a letter from my family telling me they were waiting for my return. I never lost faith and hope that my whole family would become members of the Church, be sealed in the temple for all eternity, and be with our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, someday.
After returning from my mission, I began to see that dream come true. I was able to baptize my mother, who is now preparing to go to the temple. I see my family often, and we are closer than ever before.

Fifty-eight years ago, I knocked on the door of J. Roland Sandstrom, patriarch of the Santa Ana California Stake, with a recommend from my bishop to receive a patriarchal blessing. We had never met and would not meet again for 14 years. We met again 15 years later. This time, as one of the Twelve, I blessed him the day before he died.
The blessing was delivered by mail to my barracks at an air force base where I was stationed. I did not know then, as I know now, that a patriarch has prophetic insight, that his blessing would be more than a guide to me. It has been a shield and a protection.
The patriarch, who had never seen me before, made a promise that applies to every one of us. He told me to “face toward the sunlight of truth so that the shadow of error, disbelief, doubt and discouragement shall be cast behind you.” Many times I have gained strength from reading that patriarchal blessing given by an inspired servant of the Lord.

One day I was talking to a friend, who is not a member of our church, and we almost got to the point where we started putting each other’s churches down, but I didn’t want it to get to that point, so I just bore my testimony and stopped. A few weeks later I got some pamphlets and magazines in the mail from her. I could have kept them so that I would know what some writers think about our church, but I didn’t. This experience made me want to be more prepared when things like this happen.Alexandria M., 15, Oregon

In the early 1830s, Independence, Missouri, was a rough and lively frontier town. It had just been established as the seat of Jackson County. It was the start of the Santa Fe Trail. Wagons carrying goods and people crowded the town square to make final preparations for the trip to the southwest. They filled their water barrels at a nearby well. Gambling, drinking, and horse racing were more common than Sabbath day observance.
Yet on July 20, 1831, the Lord revealed that this frontier town was where a holy city, the City of Zion, would be built. The place of the New Jerusalem. The place where a temple of the Lord would be built. (See D&C 57.)
By the summer of 1831, Latter-day Saint missionaries had arrived at Independence. Members began to build homes and settle there. But only a little over two years later, disobedience by some Saints and persecution by some of the other settlers forced the members to flee Jackson County to save their lives.
On the way to church each week, Julianne Burkhardt (8) walks past the site where Joseph Smith stood when he dedicated ground in Independence for the building of a temple. The site where he stood is now owned by the Church of Christ (Temple Lot), but just a short distance away is the LDS chapel Julianne attends with her family. It also sits on part of the original sixty-three acres that Joseph Smith designated as the temple lot. Julianne feels special to know that she can worship at this sacred place. “I like the city of Independence. I like to see the temple lot. I like to see everything here.”
One of the first buildings that the Saints built in Independence was a schoolhouse for their children. Education is still very important. Even when she isn’t in school, Julianne loves getting old textbooks from a neighbor across the street and playing school with her sister Jaime (10). Although Julianne loves school and does very well in most subjects, sometimes spelling words can be a trial to her. If she gets frustrated, her sister Jennie (16) helps her learn the words.
Most of her neighbors belong to other churches, but that doesn’t stop Julianne from being their friend. She does all she can to make certain that she doesn’t have conflicts with her neighbors, like some of the early Saints did. One of her best friends is a sixty-year-old widow named Mrs. Troyer. Julianne loves to work in the garden or go for walks with her. They’ve been great friends for two or three years. “We talk about all kinds of stuff on our walks. She’s one of the nicest people I know,” said Julianne.
Always jubilant and full of energy, she loves doing things with and for her family. She’s wherever the action is. Her mother, Debbie, has tended children in their home for the past two years. Julianne loves to help take care of the children. She even wants a baby stroller for her next birthday so that she can take the younger children on walks.
One of her favorite things to do with her family is read books. Her favorite thing to read together is the scriptures. She loves the story where Nephi and his brothers return to Jerusalem to get the brass plates.
Julianne is grateful to be a member of the Church living in Independence today. “When I was baptized and was coming out of the water, I felt the Holy Spirit. It felt good.” She is doing her best to build up Zion today.

“Come on!” Stacy yelled out the jeep window, honking the horn.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I called, running out the front door with my arms full of treats for the road.
Stacy and I had been best friends since the sixth grade. We loved doing all of the same things, which led us to take the same digital photography class that year in high school. For one of our assignments, we decided to drive to San Francisco and take pictures of all the amazing buildings there.
The first part of the road trip was a blast. We listened to music and chatted. Suddenly Stacy pointed to a sign along the freeway that read, “Oakland: 10 miles.” Her eyes went wide. “Hey, should we visit the temple?”
The closest temple to where we lived was in Oakland, a two-hour commute from our town. “I guess we should, since we’re so close,” I replied. Excited, we took the exit off the freeway.
At the end of the ramp, Stacy asked, “Which way now?” We looked around. We had no idea which road the temple was actually on! We just assumed we would see it right off the freeway sitting on a hill. All we knew was that the temple was in the town of Oakland, and we were slowly realizing what a big town it was.
Stacy drove up and down random streets, hoping to see something that we would recognize, but we only found ourselves getting more confused and lost. “This was a bad idea,” Stacy muttered grumpily.
I was about to agree with her, when all of a sudden, I saw it: the golden tip of the temple! “Up there! On top of that hill. Do you see it?” I exclaimed.
“Yeah!” Stacy started to head in the direction of the spire.
We began the process of finding the temple simply by keeping it in sight. We drove up hills, only to come to a dead-end. But instead of getting frustrated like before, we simply reversed and backed up, keeping the temple on the hill in sight. Then, we would start down another path, hoping it would eventually lead us to our goal.
The feeling of hope that we had just by keeping the temple in sight was amazing.
We knew we were at least headed in the right direction, and that filled us with comfort. Eventually we found ourselves in front of the temple gate.
I think of that experience a lot in my life. When I find myself at a dark path and I feel lost or unsure of which way to turn, I remember that if I keep my destination in view, I can eventually reach my goal.

Harold was called, at the age of thirty-one, as the president of the Pioneer Stake, just as the Great Depression struck. More than half the members of his stake were unemployed. Seeking inspiration from the Lord, and with the help of his counselors and bishops, President Lee formulated a plan to help his stake members. A warehouse was donated, and surplus goods were gathered to it; contracts were made with farmers to provide labor to help harvest their crops in return for payment in kind; and the Relief Society sisters established canning kitchens to preserve the food. These supplies were then distributed to those in need. A gymnasium was constructed by the unemployed men, using donated materials.

I had another high school friend in the Pasadena Stake while Dad was the stake president. She went to Brigham Young University. While on a trip representing the school, she was involved in a terrible automobile accident and was stabilized in a hospital in Las Vegas, Nevada, USA. When Dad found out about her condition, he drove 270 miles (435 km) from Los Angeles to Las Vegas to see her and bring her love and encouragement.

I don’t know how many acts of kindness like this Dad did. He never spoke of them to us or to anyone. Kind people usually don’t.

I learned about some of these acts of kindness through letters that he kept from people who wrote to him in gratitude. This letter is typical of the kind he received: “Out of desperation I wrote concerning our oldest daughter. … You took the time and gentle caring to call her in for a visit, giving her your personal telephone number. She was surprised and amazed that you found her of worth. That call and personal visit was a genuine turning point in her life.” The letter then tells of her return to the Church, her sealing in the temple, and her happy and productive life. “After reading your statement [about kindness in the October 1994 general conference] it brought tears to my eyes to realize that you have been practicing for years what you are now encouraging all of us to do.”

“I would invite all members of the Church to live with ever more attention to the life and example of the Lord Jesus Christ, especially the love and hope and compassion He displayed. I pray that we might treat each other with more kindness.”3

Dad believed in Jesus Christ. He made it easy for me to believe in Christ as well. I saw what someone does who believes in Christ and is like Him. I felt the peace and hope and joy that result from that kind of living.

Now for the last question: “Do you think your father was really a prophet of God?” This question has always been easy for me to answer. I can never remember a time in my father’s personal, family, career, or Church life that would lead me to think that he was not qualified. But that is different than believing he was actually called as God’s representative to all of His children on the earth. I have come to know that he was a prophet of God, but that knowledge didn’t come from knowing him, watching his example, or being touched by what I saw him do and say. Those things help. But that knowledge was given to me as a merciful gift by the same God who called him.

“When I was ten years old, before I joined the Church, I had leukemia,” Bryce says matter-of-factly. “In April 1995 the leukemia came back.”
Now it was Bryce’s turn to be the example. Even though he knew all too well what the relapse would mean—chemotherapy, radiation, fatigue, pain, nausea—Bryce decided he was going to do as much “normal” stuff as he could. So, even though he was still feeling sick from one of his first treatments, Bryce made it to the stake center to be part of his branch’s road show. Now he goes to as many firesides and activities as he can. And he goes to school as much as he can.
“I still don’t like school,” he says with a grin, “but you sure do miss it when you’re gone. You miss seeing other people.”
And that’s where Bryce’s branch comes in, helping Bryce to pass the long hours in the hospital.
“The branch has really taken care of me,” says Bryce. “The Primary sent me cards, the youth sent me cards and came to visit, the Relief Society fed my family when my mom and I had to go to Calgary for special treatments. They made delicious meals with dessert and everything. They had a fast for me, and nothing went wrong.”
Bryce has a lot to teach others about positive attitude and courage. And since Bryce is the only member of the Church in his family, he (with lots of help from members of the branch) has also had the important task of teaching his family about prayer, faith, and LDS beliefs about life after death.
“Bryce has done so well,” says his mom. “I know that a combination of good things has happened to Bryce. It isn’t just the wonders of science, by no means. I just know that Bryce is being looked after.”
Bryce couldn’t agree more. And he knows that the blessings he’s received during his illness can be attributed to the greatest example of all, Jesus Christ.
“I’m not afraid of what might happen,” he says. “Now that I have the gospel and I know about the Atonement and how things work, I’ve learned to look for the good. I have a lot to be thankful for.”
Courage, gratitude, and faith—Bryce lives these principles every day. And who knows? Maybe he’s just the example someone else is looking for.

One of these members was a sister from the beautiful island of Okinawa. The story of her journey to the Hawaii Temple is remarkable. Two decades earlier, she had been married in a traditional arranged Buddhist wedding. Just a few months later, Japan attacked Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, thrusting the United States into a conflict with Japan. In the wake of battles such as Midway and Iwo Jima, the tides of war pushed the Japanese forces back to the shores of her island home, Okinawa, the last line of defense standing against the Allied forces before the heartlands of Japan.
For a harrowing three months in 1945, the Battle of Okinawa raged. A flotilla of 1,300 American warships encircled and bombarded the island. Military and civilian casualties were enormous. Today a solemn monument in Okinawa lists more than 240,000 known names of people who perished in the battle.
In a desperate attempt to escape the onslaught, this Okinawan woman, her husband, and their two small children sought refuge in a mountain cave. They endured unspeakable misery through the ensuing weeks and months.
One desperate night amidst the battle, with her family near starvation and her husband unconscious, she contemplated ending their suffering with a hand grenade, which the authorities had supplied to her and others for that purpose. However, as she prepared to do so, a profoundly spiritual experience unfolded that gave her a tangible sense of the reality of God and His love for her, which gave her the strength to carry on. In the following days, she revived her husband and fed her family with weeds, honey from a wild beehive, and creatures caught in a nearby stream. Remarkably, they endured six months in the cave until local villagers informed them that the battle had ended.

At the beginning of 2007, my husband and I were called to produce a cultural celebration for the rededication of the temple. The event was to be held on November 3, a day before the rededication sessions.
Our aim was to involve as many youth as possible from the stakes in Tongatapu and to come up with a presentation that would spiritually prepare the Saints for the temple dedication the next day. The event would be broadcast and televised live to the outer islands as well as to Tongan stakes around the globe, so this was a mighty task.
During the week of the rededication, it rained heavily. At our final rehearsal, on November 2, the skies were overcast. I asked the youth to return to their homes and pray for good weather so they would be able to perform for Tonga and for those who would be watching via satellite, especially the prophet. That night it rained hard, and the next morning the weather was still foreboding.
On Saturday evening, 3,000 young people gathered at Teufaiva Stadium to hear from Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, who had been sent to rededicate the temple due to President Hinckley’s frail health. I will never forget the performance. Everything fell into place. The weather was perfect, the sound system that had malfunctioned earlier was excellent, and those young men and young women danced their hearts out.
We had witnessed a miracle. Heavenly Father heard the prayers of His children and kept the rain away. At the same time, we were able to set the tone for the temple dedication the next day, reminding members that eternal families are the treasure that lasts and that temples are built to bring such blessings to pass.

Second, let us rejoice in our diversity. I grew up a Buddhist, the daughter of a Japanese plantation laborer in Mahukona, a tiny village which no longer exists, on the big island of Hawaii. My first exposure to Christianity came during the annual Christmas pageant organized by Captain Beck, who was in charge of the plantation. Every year, there was a little nativity play, the singing of Christmas carols, and wonderful presents from a mysterious fat man in a red suit and a white beard.
When I was about seven, Captain Beck asked me to be the angel in the nativity play. I didn’t know what an angel was, but I was proud to be chosen and worked hard on my speech. And it was hard work. My native language was a combination of Japanese and pidgin, and here I had to memorize strange, seventeenth-century King James English. I was just a skinny little seven-year-old in a white cheesecloth costume with crooked tinsel wings and a wobbly tinsel halo on my head. But when the big night came, I was ready.
“Fear not,” I said. “For, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy. … For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:10.) I didn’t know who David was or Christ. I only knew Buddha. I didn’t know what swaddling clothes were or why the baby was in a manger. I didn’t know what shepherds were or why they were afraid or what good tidings were. It was only later, when I became acquainted with the Church at age eleven and joined the Church at age fifteen, that I realized that baby was the Son of God and that the good tidings were those of the gospel. Then I understood my “reason to rejoice” in Christ, the Lord.

After his wife suffered a heartbreaking miscarriage during their first pregnancy, Solofo Ravelojaona felt that their prayers were answered a year later with their second pregnancy. He and his wife, Hary Martine, consider the birth of their daughter to be one of their greatest blessings. Solofo explains, “Because we asked God and He gave her to us, we gave her a name that, in Malagasy, means ‘God’s answer.’”

In 2020, Johnny and I were both called to serve in the Mexico Villahermosa Mission. Then COVID-19 hit. The First Presidency gave missionaries the option to stick with their original timeline and possibly be reassigned—or delay their mission with a chance to serve in their original assignments.
After lots of prayer, I chose to delay and continue school at Brigham Young University–Hawaii for the time being.
The wait brought blessings I didn’t expect. When I finally made it to Mexico 18 months later, Johnny had just transferred there from the Las Vegas West Mission. We ended up in the same district for over four months and became good friends.
After Johnny went home, we kept in touch and wrote each other every week. One Monday, I asked him, “What are some of your goals and dreams for your life?”
He wrote back, “One of my goals is to get sealed in the temple and have a family that grows up in the gospel.”
Reading that, I had a moment of clarity—I wanted to marry him! His priorities were clear. Honestly, if someone had asked me that same question, I probably would’ve said something like “travel the world” or “run an ultramarathon.” While these are worthwhile goals, Johnny helped me see what matters most.
After my mission, Johnny and I started dating. Eventually, we were sealed in the Mesa Arizona Temple.
Kneeling across the altar from him, I couldn’t help but think about how our choices—especially to keep our covenants—had brought us here.

I read the magazine all the time, especially the Mormonisms. But this time, instead of just skimming over the Question and Answer section, I actually read what it said. I just want to let you know that when I read Q&A, tears came to my eyes. It reminded me of how many rough times I have had over the past year. For the longest time I would just cry in my bedroom about all these things and not tell anyone why I was upset. I remember a lot of times just asking Heavenly Father why I was going through this. This article helped me see that I can always ask for help and he will help me.
Leita MooreAngus, Ontario, Canada

Mary and I left Utah so I could attend law school in Palo Alto, California. We were planning to return to Utah after graduation, but the Spirit directed that we stay in California. We lived in California for 33 years and raised our family there. We both had many opportunities to serve. We loved the diversity of the members and their commitment to the gospel of Jesus Christ. I will be eternally grateful for the wonderful Latter-day Saints in California who have been such a positive influence in my life.

After several weeks on the road, Christian had used all his money, and he was forced to beg for food. At night he slept against fallen trees in the woods, curled up, pulling his coat tight against the cold. He felt more alone and cold then he ever had in his life. The loneliness bit at his insides even more than his hunger did.
At last he reached Drammen, but he found no success, no work, and no one knew of any Mormons or they were unwilling to help him find them. For days he wandered, knocking on doors, asking for work and direction. A blackness of despair grew inside him.
While he was looking for shelter against a growing snow storm one evening, he saw a small cottage on the edge of the woods just outside of Drammen. He decided to knock on one more door. He told the woman who answered that he was looking for work. She smiled and told Christian that her husband was not home at the moment and that Christian should come back later and talk to him. She offered him slices of bread and cheese. He took them, thanked her, turned, and walked back into the woods. In the fading daylight he found a snow-covered brush pile with a hollow inside and crawled into it. His nose and fingers were numb with cold, and inside he felt lost, without hope.
The woman reminded him of his own mother, and he longed to be home. His thoughts became unclear and dreamy as a drowsiness came over him. He knew it was the cold and that if he went to sleep he would freeze. For a while he accepted the hopelessness and began drifting into a comfortable, warm sleep.
Then he remembered his grandfather’s words.
“There are steps in life that can change your entire future and the future of entire generations. Take those steps carefully, Christian, in the direction you believe to be right, no matter how difficult they appear to be, and God will be with you.”
Christian crawled from under the shelter. The snow was falling heavily.
“Surely,” Christian said aloud, “if God is my Father, he can help me. I know he will.”
Christian knelt in the fresh snow and began praying.
In the darkness a short distance away, a figure watched and listened. When Christian stood from his prayers the figure approached him.
A tall man, Moen Hotvedtvien stood looking at the slender boy.
“I am Brother Hotvedtvien, and I am also a Mormon,” he said. He led Christian back to the house where the woman had given Christian bread and cheese. The house was warm.
The Hotvedtviens had no children of their own, and they took Christian in as their son. Moen was a carpenter and cabinetmaker; he taught Christian his trade.

Photographs by Mark Davis
Ever dream about your future career? You know, what you’ll do when you head out on your own, become an adult, and realize it’s time to earn your own living? And what do you want to do when you get there? Fly planes? Create video games? Play professional football? How about acting in movies? How about making your own movies?
That’s exactly what Kamila T. of New York, USA, 16, hopes to do. That’s why she’s enrolled in a school of art and design. Kamila doesn’t just like watching movies; she loves making them too. But she knows that if she wants to make a living at it, she’s going to have to learn a few things and get to work right now. No matter how young you are, you can start thinking about your future. As it says in For the Strength of Youth, “Set high goals for yourself, and be willing to work hard to achieve them” ([2011], 40).
Kamila’s love for making movies started when she was 12. “My friends and I used iMovie on a tablet to make funny movies,” she said. “I became interested in it then. I started making films for my school and really enjoyed it.”
Pretty soon Kamila decided she wanted to pursue film in high school. But most high schools don’t have a strong film program, so she started looking around.
She explained, “When I originally heard about the school of art and design, I didn’t want to go. But my dad wanted me to. He has a lot of friends who are in film, and he thought it would be a good decision for my career. He said it was the best school for film. So I visited the school to check it out and really liked it.”
Liking the school was one thing, but getting accepted was another thing altogether.
“I had to audition in front of the teacher,” Kamila said. “It was really hectic, because I had to create two storyboards [outlines of her film ideas] to present. I wasn’t prepared on the first day like everyone else, so I had to go on the second day. On the way there we got a little lost, and I was late. My mom told me not to worry and to call my dad. I did, and he said a prayer with me over the phone. It was nice.”
Kamila calmed down and presented her storyboards. The result? She was accepted into the program, and she just started her third year there.
For Kamila, studying film has been amazing. Recently her class created a public service announcement for a competition. Experiences like that have helped her see what she can achieve.
But going to her school also comes with sacrifice. It’s an hour and a half commute each way. Plus, “All the other kids in my area go to a normal high school with football fields and other sports,” she said. “My school is different because everyone’s interested in the arts. But going there has also prepared me for things in life. I know how to take the train and how to get around on my own.”
At the same time, Kamila knows that making a living as a filmographer—especially for one holding LDS standards—can present challenges. So she’s kept her mind open to other interesting options.
“In English class we learned about psychology, and I really liked it,” she said. “My mom is going back to school, getting a minor in psychology and a major in teaching. So she shares with me what’s she’s learning. I still want to follow film, but psychology is my backup. Or finding a way to combine film and psychology would be great.”
Kamila is developing her gifts and talents for a career and independence—and a future family. “I hope to get married in the temple and be a mom one day,” she said. “I believe that by developing my talents like psychology and film, I would be able to have more open communication with my family.”
As prophets have counseled: “Heavenly Father has given you gifts and talents and knows what you are capable of achieving. Seek His help and guidance as you work to achieve your goals” (For the Strength of Youth, 40).
For other youth trying to figure out their goals and future plans for education, jobs, and family, Kamila had this advice: “Follow your dreams. Do what most interests you. It’s not a status thing or an obsession—it’s doing something you’ve always wanted to do, the thing you really want to be in the back of your mind. You can do it!”

In the early days of launching a company, my business partner and I would pray earnestly before important meetings, asking for Heavenly Father’s help. Time after time, God answered our prayers, and our meetings went well. After one meeting, my business partner pointed out that we had been quick to ask for help but slow to give thanks. From then on, we made it a habit to offer sincere prayers of gratitude, recognizing the Lord’s hand in our successes. We show our love for God with “an attitude of gratitude.”