Gospel Story Finder

I knew the Joseph Smith story was true the first time I heard it. I was 15 then and living with my aunt’s family in Montélimar, France. Three of the children in the family were already members of the Church. The youngest daughter, my cousin, was not.
She and I went to the closest branch at Valence. There the missionaries told us the story of the young latter-day prophet, and it touched me profoundly. I had heard my cousin’s family discuss the restoration of the gospel at home before, but as I heard it in detail for the first time from these young men, it reached my soul.
They told me of the promise in Moroni 10:4–5 [Moro. 10:4–5] in the Book of Mormon and said that I could know the truthfulness of what was written there if I would ask God sincerely. They also said I could know if their message was true. That same evening, brimming over with a desire to know, I knelt and prayed. I was elated by the warm and wonderful feeling that flooded my soul. I knew this was a response from the Lord and that the gospel had indeed been restored by Jesus Christ, as the missionaries said.
My cousins had shown me a good example of love and concern for each other. I hadn’t been much interested in their church’s doctrine, but I had admired their ideals for family life. Now, however, I wanted to know more about the Church. I went with my cousins to a youth conference in Vaumarcus, Switzerland, and made many LDS friends there. During the testimony meeting, I stood and told them about my experience when I had prayed about Moroni’s promise.
My understanding grew rapidly, but soon my father intervened. He didn’t like the idea of me investigating a “new” church. My parents were separated, and no one knew where my mother was, but I felt obligated to honor my father’s wishes, at least until I was no longer a minor. My contact with the Saints as a group dropped off somewhat, but I knew in my heart that someday I would be baptized.
My oldest cousin went into the army, and then he left on a mission. During the two years he was gone, I kept thinking about the feelings I had felt. I always had a testimony of Joseph Smith, right from the start. His story seemed so logical, and the confirmation of the Spirit came so quickly that I couldn’t ignore it. When my cousin returned from his mission, I met him in Montélimar, and we rode together back to Antibes (near Nice), which is my hometown. All the way there we talked about the Church, and I accepted many new ideas.
The Lord also had something else in mind to help me. I was in agricultural school in Lyons at the time, and when I returned to my studies, I arranged to do some field study for three months in Aix-en-Provence. There, with my cousin, I heard all of the missionary discussions thoroughly, and the small testimony inside me became a big one. I was baptized on July 26, 1975, and I still feel as strongly today as I did then that Joseph Smith was and is a prophet of God.
I am thankful that I was able to see the gospel in action in my aunt’s home. Their example combined with the witness of the Spirit to let me know that the Lord has built a program for families that I want to follow.
Editor’s note: Since this story was written, José has served honorably in the France Paris Mission.

Chase and Heston watched as Sister Lind interrupted their Primary lesson by placing an empty chair between them.
“President Benson has a family saying about chairs. Have any of you heard it?” she asked, glancing at the extra seat. When no one held up his hand, she gave the answer herself: “‘no empty chairs!’ What do you suppose President Benson means?”
When still no one responded, Sister Lind help up a picture of Jesus holding a lamb. Smiling, she continued, “Could it have something to do with our lesson on Jesus and His lost sheep?”
Sharla raised her hand timidly. “Is the chair missing a person, like Jesus was missing a sheep?”
Sister Lind nodded. “That’s it, Sharla. Just as Jesus brought back His lost sheep, we’re supposed to find our friends missing from Primary and bring them back to their empty chairs.” She placed her hand on the chair between Chase and Heston. “Now, who is missing from our class? Who needs to come back and sit in this chair?”
The whole class turned to one another and mumbled one name—“Charles.” No one dared to shout it out. They were all reluctant to talk about Charles because his mother had died only two months before.
Charles had loved Primary, especially singing time, but he hadn’t come to church for almost three months. The empty chair in the classroom suddenly seemed very lonely. Charles wasn’t in it, and the other children missed him.
“What can we do?” Heston asked.
“Well, Charles is what the rest of our lesson is about. We’re going to discuss what we can do for him, and then we’ll pray for help.”
The class had a lot of ideas: “Let’s ask him to play soccer!” “How about inviting him to the Primary talent activity?” “Isn’t it almost time for his birthday? Why don’t we do something for his birthday?”
Sister Lind checked the class roll and looked at the birthday list. “You’re right,” she announced. “His birthday is next Saturday.”
Jessica jumped up and suggested, “What if we took balloons and sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to him at his house?”
Heston and Chase pulled faces. “The balloons are okay, but do we have to sing?”
Sister Lind laughed. “Of course you’ll sing.” She smiled at Jessica and said, “That’s a fine idea.” To the whole class, she added, “I also think that while we’re there, he’d like to be invited to the Primary activity. Let’s meet at my house on Saturday at ten o’clock.”
When everyone agreed, Sister Lind looked at the empty chair again. “Before we have the closing prayer, I want to remind you to remember Charles in your individual prayers this week.”
On Saturday morning the children met at Sister Lind’s house and they all went to visit Charles. “Before we go in,” she said, turning to the children, “don’t forget about the talent activity.” She smiled at Chase and asked him to invite Charles to the activity. “The rest of you must show Charles that you really want him to come,” she told them.
The balloons bobbed gaily as the children walked to the door. Only Chase walked slowly—he was wondering how to invite Charles to the activity.
A dog ran out the door when Charles opened it. “Look who’s here, Dad!” he shouted with a surprised look on his face. “It’s Sister Lind and my Primary class!”
“Happy birthday to you,” they sang. “Happy birthday to you. …”
“Ar-rooo!” a strange voice joined in, unheard by all but Sister Lind.
“Happy birthday, dear Charles. …”
“Ar-rooo!”
This time they all heard Charles’s dog, Bowser, “singing” with them. He was sitting by the door with his head thrown back for a full-throated sound.
“Ar-rooo-ooo!” he finished the song for them, then gave them a big doggy smile, rolling his head to one side and watching the children and Sister Lind laugh.
“Charles, Bowser likes to sing, too,” Heston shouted.
“He sure does,” Charles said, hugging his dog tightly. “He loves music as much as I do.”
Chase saw his opportunity. “Then how about singing with us for the Primary talent activity?”
The class stopped giggling at Bowser and looked expectantly at Charles.
“Dad, can I?”
Charles’s dad was quiet. He just looked down at the floor. Their whole plan might have ended awkwardly right then if Heston hadn’t started giggling again. “Hey, Charles,” he laughed, “can Bowser sing with us for the show? Do you think he’d do it?”
Bowser loved the idea! He lifted his head high and sang his loudest “Ar-roo.”
Charles’s dad lifted his head, too, and watched the happy faces of his son and his son’s friends as they again broke into helpless laughter. “Sure,” he said softly. “Maybe I’ll come too.”
During the next few weeks Charles, Bowser, and the rest of the class practiced their special act at Sister Lind’s house. Bowser enjoyed certain notes more than others, so Sister Lind played through her music until they found the song that appealed the most to him.
On Primary Talent Night, everyone’s family and friends crowded into the cultural hall. After the opening prayer, the bishop announced, “And now for a very different opening act, Sister Lind’s Valiant A class will accompany Bowser, the singing dog!”
Charles and his classmates led Bowser onto the stage, and Sister Lind stood below them. “Look across the room and tell me what you see,” she whispered.
The children looked out at the hall filled with people. Charles waved when he saw his dad sitting in the back, surrounded by Sister Lind’s family.
“No empty chairs!” Sharla told Sister Lind excitedly. “There are no empty chairs here tonight—or in our class, anymore.”
“That’s right!” Sister Lind gave them all a big smile and Bowser a pat, which made his tail wag with a thud on the stage. “Now let’s sing!”
The children’s voices rang, and so did Bowser’s. The room filled with laughter at the hound’s musical howls. Everyone—including the children and Bowser—was having a good time. And best of all, there were no empty chairs.

When I was a young bishop in Tennessee, we were neighbors to a wonderful Christian couple named Will and Karen. They weren’t members of our Church, but they were deeply Christian…good people in every sense of the word.

When I would speak in church, I would often invite them to come and see. Every time, they declined but always did so very politely.

Later, I learned Will was studying to become an associate pastor in a small Baptist church in a tiny, tiny town outside of Nashville. When I found out he was preparing for his first sermon, I asked if my family could come hear him preach. To say he was surprised would be an understatement. But he said we were more than welcome.

His church services started at 10 a.m.. Our church met at 1:00 p.m., but we also had Ward Council that morning. So, I called every member of the council and told them, “The meeting is canceled, I’m going to the Baptist church.”

When we arrived that Sunday morning, we were greeted so warmly. And I don’t just mean polite handshakes…I mean genuine, joyful, we’re-glad-you’re-here warmth.

There were a couple of things they did in that church that I loved.

If someone liked what the preacher said, they shouted out “Amen!” or “Hallelujah!” right in the middle of the sermon. Sometimes when I speak I feel like I could use a good “Amen!” or “Hallelujah!”

Right in the middle of the service, the senior pastor stood up and said, “Brothers and sisters, it’s fellowship time. I want you to stand up and go shake hands with someone you’ve never met before.”

Now, this was a very small church. And I don’t think there were any other visitors. I felt like I was in a wedding reception line as person after person came by, shook our hands, and said things like:

“We’re so happy you’re here.”

“We hope you will come back and worship with us again.”

I could have felt different and alone in that church, but somehow they made me feel like I belonged.

When our ward council finally met again, can you guess what we talked about?

We talked about how to help people feel like they are not alone on the Jericho road they may be traveling. We talked about how to help people feel that they are, as Paul said, “no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God.” [8]

And here’s the thing—the answer isn’t complicated.

It’s as simple as seeing ourselves as neighbor to each individual we interact with and treating them the way Jesus would treat them.

It seemed like any other ordinary Sunday morning. It seemed like most other deacons quorum meetings of previous weeks. But what was to happen during the next 15 minutes was extraordinary to me, a 12-year-old boy who was still reeling under the effects of what had happened the preceding Thursday.
Motivated by an enthusiastic mission leader who had spoken about the Book of Mormon in sacrament meeting, I had felt impressed to present a copy of the Book of Mormon to my best friend and school classmate. The decision had not been an easy one. What if my friend didn’t accept it? What if he did take it but rejected its message? And worst of all, what if he felt that the gift was a sign of religious fanaticism that would threaten our friendship?
Nephi’s fervent testimony regarding obedience had given me courage: “I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded” (1 Ne. 3:7). I had been taught that every member should be a missionary. So the next day I had presented the book during lunch break, complete with my testimony that the book was true, that it contained the account of Christ’s appearance to an ancient people right here in America, and that it would lead to an even greater understanding of the Bible. My friend had received the book with appreciation and with a promise to read it. It had been a normal exchange between two young friends who shared a mutual trust and understanding.
Two days later the book had been returned. “Have you read it already?” I had asked.
“No, and I am not going to read it.”
“Why not?” had come my anxious reply.
“Because my parents won’t allow it and, after what happened last night, I agree with them.”
“What happened last night?”
“If you will meet me after school,” he had said, “I’ll show you.”
After school he had led me straight to the public library, then to that section of the library marked “Religion,” the same place he had been taken the night before by his parents. Reaching up, he had brought down the largest volume of all—Religions of the World. Turning to the front pages, he had first shown me the list of authors. Each contributor had many letters after his name indicating his qualifications. There must have been at least a dozen prominent educators, theologians, and scholars listed. One couldn’t have helped but be impressed. Surely this was a well-documented and authoritative compilation of the world’s best-known religions, written by those who were qualified.
My friend had then turned to the section entitled “Mormonism.” After reading it for just a few seconds, I had been shocked beyond belief to find such ideas as “The Book of Mormon is a fraud,” “Joe Smith was misguided and given to hallucinations,” and “The entire story about the restoration and the Book of Mormon was made up of falsehoods, deceit, and counterfeit ideas.” I had been totally devastated by what I read.
Had my parents tried to shield me from something through the years? Had my bishop and Sunday School teachers failed to tell me the whole truth? I had stood there feeling that I had lost the very foundation of my life, for I loved the Church. I had felt strongly about the Aaronic Priesthood that had been conferred upon me just a few months before. The Church, which had become the very foundation of my life, now seemed to be crumbling in just a few minutes—after all, it had been the largest book on the shelf and the background of the authors seemed beyond reproach.
I hadn’t told any one about the deep hurt inside—not even my parents. I had to think about it for a few days. But I had let my Heavenly Father know about my concern and frustration, for He was the center of my boyhood faith. I had even thought back upon the Prophet Joseph Smith when his adversaries tried to demean his remarkable experience in the Sacred Grove. He had said: “I knew it, and I knew that God knew it, and I could not deny it, neither dared I do it; at least I knew that by so doing I would offend God, and come under condemnation” (JS—H 1:25).
On Sunday, three days following my disturbing hour at the public library, I sat in what seemed like an ordinary deacons quorum meeting. But what happened during the next 15 minutes was extraordinary to me.
Following the opening prayer, we were introduced to Brother Corbridge of the stake high council. Brother Corbridge told us that he and his family had just returned from a wonderful vacation trip that included a visit to the Hill Cumorah and the Sacred Grove near Palmyra, New York. Then he related in great detail his family’s experience while in the Sacred Grove. An unmistakable manifestation of the Spirit had come to them to confirm beyond question the truth of what had happened there on that early spring morning of 1820.
Then, in answer to my urgent but humble prayers, the inspiration of the Holy Ghost began to flood into my mind as Brother Corbridge spoke to us with emotion about his family’s experience. I marveled that a well-dressed, successful businessman would stand unashamed with tears in his eyes and share his innermost feelings to a group of young deacons. I know now that he had been sent by the Lord to say something that was meant especially for me, a 12-year-old Aaronic Priesthood boy who had been praying earnestly and who needed help urgently.
Brother Corbridge’s experience in the Sacred Grove became my experience. The gift of the Holy Ghost manifested itself to such a degree that even to this day, 60 years later, I can bear witness as though I had actually been there and observed firsthand that remarkable experience we call the First Vision and I can testify that the Book of Mormon is indeed the word of God.
Yes, Heavenly Father does hear the prayers of His young people, and He very often sends us our answers through His appointed priesthood leaders and other good people. May we listen well as they speak to us. May our thoughts and actions be such that we might invite the confirming Spirit of the Holy Ghost to enter our hearts and minds. I shall ever be grateful for the sustaining influence that came to me as a young man holding the Aaronic Priesthood.

Last year we had a serious problem regarding a great many obscene telephone calls that we were receiving. I thought the caller would get tired of making such calls, but he didn’t. Upon inquiring around the neighborhood I learned that a number of other women were receiving the same calls. I investigated the situation and discovered that the person making the telephone calls was a teenage boy who lived up the street. The next time he telephoned, I addressed him by name, telling him that was the last obscene call he was going to make. By this time, of course, my feelings against this person were very strong. In my mind he was clearly and simply one of the nuisances in life like mosquitoes that had no right to exist but did anyway.
After a long debate with myself, I went to talk to his mother. It was obvious that he needed help, and it would not be possible for him to get it unless his parents understood what he was doing. I told the boy’s mother all about her son’s telephone calls. She was surprised but took the news very well and was very grateful to me for coming to her.
“I’ve been concerned about Jack for a long time,” she said. “He’s under such tremendous pressure from his father. He’s not allowed to have even a minute of free time, it seems. On the weekends he has these long, long lists of chores to do, and they’re never quite done well enough. ‘You missed a spot in the hedge, Jack,’ his father says, or ‘You didn’t get all the weeds.’ It seems like his responsibilities never end. Last weekend his father made him type a letter over four times, finding something different each time. If Jack isn’t home when his father comes in, he’ll say, ‘Where’s Jack? Is he doing his homework?’ And if he’s out playing in the neighborhood, he’ll go and call for him to come home. Sometimes when Jack will come in he’ll ask, ‘Is father here?’ and I know he’s really asking, ‘Am I going to have to do something?’ If his father isn’t at home, he’ll relax a little bit. But it doesn’t last. Jack has developed a nervous twitch. And I know all this pressure has something to do with the obscene telephone calls.”
Again the tremor of conscience. Again the breaking down of my first perception, allowing me to see inside the problem. I knew Jack’s secret, at least a little bit about the ache inside him that made him do sad, sad things. And I wanted to help him, encourage him, instead of slapping him like a mosquito. He did deserve to live after all.

And there is a higher interpretation of the principle of peace. The Savior is the Prince of Peace. Great interpretations have been given to that title. One of the finest that I have ever heard in my life was by President Lee. President Joseph Fielding Smith had just died. President Lee was now the brand-new prophet. His first major meeting as the prophet was in Mexico at an area conference down there. His first press conference as prophet was there, and President Lee was asked a trap question.

Now there are all kinds of trap questions. A trap question is a question to which you can’t say yes and you can’t say no. The traditional trap question is, “Have you stopped beating your wife?” You can’t say “Yes, I’ve stopped” or “No, I haven’t stopped.” Whatever you say, you’re wrong.

President Joseph F. Smith, back at the turn of the century, in Washington, D.C., was asked a trap question by reporters. That question was, “Are you a prophet of God?” If he said yes, they were going to say, “Well, prophesy something for us, tell us something important that’s going to happen. Any earthquakes coming up?” Whatever he said, they were going to ridicule him. They had it all planned. If he said “No, I’m not a prophet,” they would say, “Well, the Mormon prophet says he’s not a prophet.” They would ridicule him yes or no. His inspired answer, when they pulled that trap question on him, was, “I am so sustained by the members of the Church.” They couldn’t do anything with that, and he gained their understanding.

Now back to President Lee in Mexico City. Hostile, foreign, international, sophisticated reporters pulled a political question on him. “What is your position with regard to the Vietnam involvement—the Vietnam War?” Some of you may not remember that particular time in history. It was a hot political issue, the Hawks against the Doves—there was an element of patriotism. Our government and our leaders of the nation were involved and said, “We should be there.” But there was a growing opposition to it. It has since been reconciled to the satisfaction of some, not to the satisfaction of others. But, at that point, if President Lee said, “I’m in favor of being there,” they would headline it, “How strange, a religious leader in favor of war.” If President Lee said, “I’m against it,” they would say, “How strange, a religious leader who pretends to support his government—it is one of their articles of faith—is against his own government.”

Either way it was a difficult question. President Lee’s answer was classic. It was inspiration from the Lord. It was a higher interpretation. He said, “We, together with the entire Christian world, abhor wars.” Then he said, “The Savior, however, said that in the world there would be tribulations. He said, ‘In me ye might have peace’” (John 16:33). Then President Lee went on to say, “The Savior said, ‘Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you’’” (John 14:27). It’s even more beautiful in Spanish: “La paz os dejo, mi paz os doy; no como el mundo la da, yo os la doy. No se turbe vuestro corazón, ni tenga miedo.” It’s more poetic in Spanish. (I just had to do that for the returned missionaries from Latin America.)

President Lee went on to say, “The Savior was not talking about the kind of peace that you can win with armies and navies and bombs and rockets. He was talking about the kind of peace a person can have in his own heart, no matter what kind of tribulations there may be in the world.” He so won the understanding and sympathy of those worldly reporters that they gave good coverage to the conference, and excellent coverage to President Lee as a religious leader. They learned from him—they learned the higher interpretation.

When I was in grade school or Jr. High I had a Snoopy poster in my bedroom that depicted Snoopy and Woodstock beating on drums. Snoopy was in the lead and the caption read, "I march to the beat of a different drummer". That phrase seemed a rather accurate depiction of how I felt as a young adolescent. I struggled, like many do at that age. I grew up in Helena, Montana and while there was a good sized group of strong LDS youth, I struggled to fit the mold. Or perhaps, I fought against fitting the mold. This led me to act out in ways that was quickly noticed by my dear parents.
My father approached his concerns to me through a handwritten letter. I honestly don't recall much of the letter now except for one specific piece of counsel that has dwelled in my heart and mind ever since. My dad wrote, "Sara, don't ever let the beat of the drums drown out the still small voice of the Holy Ghost." As you know, the voice of the Lord is not in the thunder, or in lighting, or in any spectacular display, it comes as it did to Elijah, in a "still small voice."[20][21] My father could see what I could not see, likely because I lost my moxie. I lost my capacity to believe in myself and above all, I lost sight of my potential.

Not long ago I listened at length to a couple who sat across the desk from me. There was bitterness between them. I know that at one time their love was deep and true. But each had developed a habit of speaking of the faults of the other. Unwilling to forgive the kind of mistakes we all make, and unwilling to forget them and live above them with forbearance, they had carped at one another until the love they once knew had been smothered. It had turned to ashes with the decree of a so-called no fault divorce. Now there is only loneliness and recrimination. I am satisfied that had there been even a small measure of repentance and forgiveness, they would still be together, enjoying the companionship that had so richly blessed their earlier years.

As Eduardo’s and María’s gospel knowledge grew, so did their testimonies. When their son Osvaldo died following a traffic accident in 2001, their testimonies—coupled with powerful spiritual experiences during prayer and in the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple, where they and Osvaldo had been sealed—helped them deal with their loss.
“Perhaps some parents would have gone crazy,” Eduardo says, “but we felt a calmness that said, ‘Your son is well.’ Of course we wept. He was a good son, and we miss him. But we have been sealed in the temple, and we know where he is.”

But life will never be the same. Some people, particularly children, who see her for the first time are frightened. For a friendly little girl who remains the same inside despite the changes on the outside, the rejection can be devastating.
Sage was playing outside one day when a child came upon her. Unprepared for the experience, he ran away screaming, “Monster! Monster!” It hurt, but Sage understood. “The kids used to laugh at me,” she says. Do they now? “Not at school. Sometimes people stare when we go to the store.”

I know of two visiting teachers who had barely begun talking to a sister in her home when her two teenage daughters bounced in, announcing they were going to Young Women. Her husband, who also was leaving for an evening of meetings, detained their three-year-old son, who was determined to accompany his older sisters. Two other girls were arguing in the next room over which video to watch. When all the doors closed, the mother started to cry. It had been, she explained, a long week.
The visiting teachers wisely gave this very busy wife and mother a chance to talk. She discussed her week and how much she was missing her recently deceased mother. The three talked and shared their understanding of the gospel and the difficulties of every day application. The visiting teachers—one is single and has no children and the other is a single parent—praised their sister for all she was doing to raise her family well.
The mother felt better. The visiting teachers grew closer to each other and to this dear sister. They all felt better. In the true spirit of Relief Society, these visiting teachers strengthened this sister and her home. I feel better. Why? Because this story witnesses what I know—that Relief Society is indeed a balm that unites us, that helps us in our families. Sisters, I testify to you that one of our most important roles as Relief Society members is to strengthen each other, so all of us are better able to help our families. We come together. We learn from each other. We go home and strengthen our families. It’s that simple, yet how profound it is that we have this organization to be our balm of Gilead.

The sweet reward of adversity is illustrated in this story. As a young woman of eighteen, a pretty model found her dreams shattered by an automobile accident that confined her to a wheelchair with partially paralyzed legs. Because of the accident she learned to play the piano. Because of the accident she learned to develop a sense of humor and to find that there’s a funny viewpoint to almost every subject. In time her legs regained their strength and she became an actress, gifted with a sense of humor that made her one of the outstanding comediennes of our time. You’ve heard her on the radio. You’ve seen her in motion pictures and particularly on television. You know that Lucille Ball was not stopped by adversity. On the contrary, it was the plus sign that made the difference.

I live in Nairobi, Kenya, in Africa. We used to live in Austin, Texas, but my dad got a job with the United States Foreign Service, so now we live here.
After the first Sunday at church, I did not want to go to church anymore. I cried many times, wishing that all my Church friends were here. I could tell that I was losing faith. I told my dad my feelings, and he said to pray for understanding and to search the scriptures for the truth.
I did what he told me to do but did not feel any better. One night I prayed and sat waiting for something. Then I felt a warm feeling. I felt like Heavenly Father did not send me an answer the first time I prayed, because I already knew. He sent me an answer this time for reassurance.
I bear you my testimony that I really do know The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is true. I know that Jesus Christ died for us. I know that He lives and loves us. I love Him so much! I will always remember this branch and my experiences here. It may be a little different, but gospel principles are still taught here. I really like church now. The Primary leaders are great and very nice. I love being around them, and I can’t wait to go to church each week.

A great burden to me during my growing-up years was the fact that my folks were not active in the Church. I sensed that I was missing out on many of the things that others were enjoying. The depression was on. Jobs were hard to get. Because of this, our family moved frequently. Though we had to do without many material things, that never seemed a hardship to me. But always there was the longing that my parents would feel the importance of church activity. I loved them dearly and it hurt to see what was happening in our home. The Word of Wisdom was not observed. There was not the closeness and solidarity that appeared to be in the homes of my friends. I craved that peaceful atmosphere that was lacking. Fortunately, each place we moved there were good people who would encourage me and welcome me. I came to know the importance of the Church and the gospel. It hurt so much on the day of my wedding when my parents were not able to enter the temple but remained outside while that special ceremony took place. I am happy to report that later, through the help of caring friends and my loving husband, my parents did become active and were able to enjoy those blessing they had missed for so many years.

Just recently my mother and I returned to the neighborhood where we had lived when I was baptized. The area is shabby and forlorn. The house where we lived looked so tiny and run down. A great feeling of sadness came over me, not because of the humble circumstances, but because I vividly remembered how I felt as a child, knowing I was missing blessings that could have been mine.

I love that God truly does answer a child’s prayers! Many years ago, we lived in Minden, Nevada. Our church house was being remodeled which necessitated us to drive to South Lake Tahoe for our meetings. One Sunday we were experiencing a winter blizzard. My husband was back east on business travel, which left me home with our two young sons. I was scared to drive up the mountain roads in this weather to attend church. It took me over an hour to make the drive, and I hurriedly ran into church a few minutes late. After church, I helped clean up, gathered my sons, and went out to my car. It was evening, already dark and still snowing and blowing. It was then that I realized, that in my hurry, I had locked my keys in the car. Only the bishopric members were still at the church. They offered me a ride home, but my husband had the only other set of keys with him and I needed my car that week. We couldn’t locate an open locksmith, so they worked to try and unlock my door. Suddenly I noticed that my five-year-old son was no longer at my side. I searched for him and found him in his primary room on his knees. I listened as he matter-of-factly explained our situation to his Heavenly Father. He explained that we needed to get home and closed his prayer. He got up, and on seeing me there, stated, “We can go home now, Mom.” I love the faith of a child! When I returned to my car, they were still working to unlock my doors. Nothing was working. Finally, after a period of time, our first counselor reached into his pocket, took out his car keys, walked over, and unlocked my car! In my shock, I asked him, “What made you think that your car keys would unlock my car?” He stated, “I had a thought: I drive an Oldsmobile, and this is an Oldsmobile—why not try!” I thanked everyone, we got in our car, and prepared to leave when the first counselor’s teenage son came out of the church. He was astounded when he heard how we got the car unlocked and didn’t believe us. He asked me to shut and lock my door. He then asked his dad for his keys so he could unlock it himself. This time the key would not even fit into the keyhole. We tried multiple times, but that key could not unlock my door.

I have often reflected on this tender mercy and answer, yes to the song, Heavenly Father does hear and answers a child’s prayer. This experience let me know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I have a loving Heavenly Father, and He knows of me. He provided this miracle for our little family in a situation that would be considered trivial by many.

Some time ago I received a touching letter from Randy Spaulding, who lived in northern Utah. The letter explained the composition of his family and then the gradual onset of an illness that took his father from a healthy, strong individual to a weak and crippled middle-aged man. The father’s physical condition deteriorated until he could not work, could not walk, became confined to a wheelchair, and was almost helpless.
Randy told how the family and ward members have taken over the care of the farm and have provided much help to the family. Father can no longer speak; Mother is his constant provider of care—yet neither of them has uttered or written those words, “Why us?”
Let me return to Randy Spaulding’s actual words. He wrote: “One morning as I was thinking about the mundane things of life and hurrying out the door to begin the day, I happened to notice my father sitting in the corner of the room reading his scriptures. I stopped and went over to speak to him. I noticed the difficult circumstances he was under. With his right hand, he was trying to hold up his head enough to see me and read the Book of Mormon. I learned that at one of the most trying times, he still had enough faith to read about a God of love, a God of miracles who heals and makes us whole, and a God of life—eternal life. My father still believes. Oh, how I long to take him back in time to the Pool of Bethesda and to ask our Master if He would please have mercy on us, so that my father, also, could take up his bed and walk.”
His letter continued: “That day I returned to my bedroom and thanked my Heavenly Father for a father and mother second to none.”

Family life is like a white-water rafting trip. As families don life jackets and helmets, parents are like the river guides who have passed through this way before. Children need us to warn them of strong currents or rocks ahead. If farther down the river there might be a devastating waterfall, would we warn our children about it? Would we instruct them how to row and where to steer to divert their route, or would we wait until after they’re dangling from the cliff to warn them?
As parents, we may be uncomfortable discussing a topic as unpleasant as suicide, but we can help protect and prepare our children before they have dangerous thoughts.
Parents can help children learn to become emotionally resilient and to know where they can turn when they need emotional help. Reyna I. Aburto, former Second Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency, taught that “this may include becoming informed about emotional illnesses, finding resources that can help address these struggles, and ultimately bringing ourselves and others to Christ, who is the Master Healer.”
Some suicides happen without any obvious warning. For some there are only subtle signs, or sometimes the signs are unmistakable. We can’t know for certain what our children are thinking, so we need to prepare them young—in case thoughts of suicide take hold in their minds.
Sister Aburto affirmed, “It is important to talk about these issues with our children, families, and friends in our homes, wards, and communities.”
Elder Dale G. Renlund of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has taught: “Every one of us has family members, dear friends, or acquaintances who have experienced suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide, or have taken their lives. … Many wards and stakes [and families] consider having a discussion about suicide prevention after someone has taken their own life. My question is—why wait? Why not do it now? Because someone in the ward or stake is having suicidal thoughts.”
I sat down with my own children several years ago after a tragedy occurred locally. I felt compelled to share with them that through Jesus Christ, there is always a way forward. There is nothing they could do, or fail to do, that would make suicide the answer. At their tender age, I had no reason to think they were at risk, but I knew there was more I could be doing to prepare my children for handling dangerous, potentially suicidal thoughts.
The Church’s resource guide for suicide prevention informs: “Talking about suicide will not make someone more likely to attempt suicide. In fact, talking openly about suicide is an effective way to help prevent suicide.”
According to John Ackerman, PhD, suicide prevention clinical manager at Nationwide Children’s Hospital, “Creating a safe space to talk about suicide can save a child’s life.” In fact, he adds, “if a child has been struggling with thoughts of suicide, knowing that a concerned adult is willing to have an open conversation is often a relief.”
“Talking about suicide in appropriate ways actually helps to prevent it rather than encourage it,” taught Sister Aburto. Her father died by suicide. For many years, she avoided talking about his death with her family. However, she has since learned the value in speaking about it honestly and plainly. “I have now openly discussed my father’s death with my children and witnessed the healing that the Savior can give on both sides of the veil.”
Open conversations about suicide can empower children to come to their parents and other trusted adults instead of trying to navigate suicidal thoughts on their own, should they ever arise.
Children as young as six or seven have reported suicidal thoughts. “It used to be that … therapists and researchers and parents didn’t believe that young kids under 10 or 11 even had thoughts of suicide,” Dr. Ackerman says. “We know that’s actually not true.” He indicates that even young children can connect suicidal ideation with feeling like a burden, being in emotional pain, or experiencing hopelessness.
Sister Aburto assured: “Knowing how to recognize signs and symptoms in ourselves and others can be helpful. We can also learn to detect inaccurate or unhealthy thinking patterns and how to replace them with more accurate and healthier ones.”
Globally, nearly one death by suicide occurs every 40 seconds, and it is the second leading cause of death in the world for people 15–24 years. In a recent study conducted among thousands of teens in Utah, USA, researchers from Brigham Young University discovered that approximately 12 percent of Latter-day Saint youth had seriously considered suicide, and 4 percent had made an attempt.
For context, in a group of 25 teens, 3 of those, statistically speaking, have seriously considered suicide, and one has made a suicide attempt.
If we can help our children find the support they need before they reach the point of crisis—when ideation turns into a plan—we may be able to help them divert course before it’s too late.
At a very young age, children can begin to comprehend feelings, but we can provide them with language to correctly describe their feelings. The first step may be helping a young child build his or her emotional vocabulary. We can teach children to understand the differences between mad, sad, frustrated, and so on. If the child can explain what he or she is feeling, we can work together from there. In an age-appropriate way, we can discuss their intense feelings with children as young as six and help them identify and address these feelings.
These early conversations will also help parents become familiar with their children’s typical range of emotions. Most children go through ups and downs in emotional well-being. This is normal. Having conversations early and often with young children can provide parents with an emotional thermometer to discern the differences between typical ups and downs of childhood and dangerous ideation.
Preventative conversations about suicide are like other preventative training parents provide. We can prepare children and youth for the possibility of experiencing suicidal ideation in the same way we might prepare them for how to drive a car and what to do in the event of an accident. “We want to prepare our kids to understand what can happen emotionally and what they might see in their friends,” says Dr. Ackerman.
As children age, the conversations we have with them will also mature. We can ask open-ended questions and then allow children to answer candidly. Encourage children to be honest with their difficult feelings. The research shows that addressing difficult emotions may reduce their intensity and duration.
Through open communication about depression, suicide, or feelings of discouragement, children learn that they can share their sincere thoughts and that they are emotionally safe with us. “They also get the unequivocal message that you care deeply about them, and their happiness and well-being matter to you,” says one mental health counselor.
Our love and support for our children can model the love Heavenly Father has for each of us. “Your Heavenly Father loves you—each of you,” taught President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018). “That love never changes. … It is there for you when you are sad or happy, discouraged or hopeful. God’s love is there for you whether or not you feel you deserve love. It is simply always there.”
Immediately after I discussed suicide with my own children, my nine-year-old son asked if he could speak to me privately. He told me about times he had imagined taking his own life, complete with how he would do it. I never could have dreamed he was having these thoughts. I hugged him, thanked him for his bravery in telling me, and told him that no matter what he ever did or ever thought, he was treasured and needed in our family. And I committed to myself to watch him for any further signs of suicidal ideation or mental illness.
Some youth may fear that suicide is their only way out of their hopelessness. President Jeffrey R. Holland, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, assures: “However many mistakes you feel you have made … , or however far from home and family and God you feel you have traveled, I testify that you have not traveled beyond the reach of divine love. It is not possible for you to sink lower than the infinite light of Christ’s Atonement shines.”
In addition to talking to our young children, we can talk to youth following the model given by President Holland: “To any of our youth out there who are struggling, whatever your concerns or difficulties, death by suicide is manifestly not the answer. It will not relieve the pain you are feeling or that you think you are causing. In a world that so desperately needs all the light it can get, please do not minimize the eternal light God put in your soul before this world was. … Do not destroy a life that Christ gave His life to preserve. You can bear the struggles of this mortal life because we will help you bear them. You are stronger than you think. Help is available, from others and especially from God. You are loved and valued and needed. We need you!”
You and your spouse can discuss when it’s a good time to start talking about it—well before the crisis, if any, comes. You can prayerfully seek the Spirit to help guide both the timing and the words of the conversations with your children.
We are never responsible for someone else’s choice to end a life, but there are things we can do to help prevent it. As President Holland taught:
“The Only Begotten Son of God came to give us life by conquering death.
“We must commit ourselves fully to that gift of life and run to the aid of those who are at risk of giving up this sacred gift.”

Photograph courtesy of Debbie Twigger
Young women in the East Midlands area of England wanted to do something special for the holidays to help out children in their community. Together with their Young Women leaders, they created 80 different handmade craft kits for children at the local hospital. These kits allow children who are patients to make crafts or do fun activities while they stay at the hospital. The kits include flycatchers, mobiles, puzzles, paper dolls, and puppets, all of which are ready for the kids to make.
“I was really happy to serve the children,” says 15-year-old Bethany H. “The feeling we got was nice.”
The young women built the kits during Mutual activities. When they delivered the craft kits, they also brought brand new Christmas decorations for the hospital. The project helped brighten the holidays for all involved. “I’d like to do it again,” Bethany says.

Midway through our final year in the mission field, after the pandemic had largely passed, our family was invited to eat at the home of a local Church leader. After dinner, as I sat alone with this dear friend, the conversation took a surprising turn. A former mission president himself, he suggested that personal turbulence might be ahead for me. With a grandfatherly smile, he said that most of the mission presidents he knew—himself included—had experienced very real challenges as they returned to their former lives and professional careers and that my so-called fourth year of mission leadership may well prove to be the most trying. I silently wondered, “How could life get more difficult than leading a mission during a pandemic?” I left that evening subdued by his comments.

A few weeks later, an unanticipated trial not of my own making came into my personal life. This unforeseen challenge left me grasping for understanding. Like my missionaries, I had planned on sacrificing specific things, but this turn of events was totally unexpected. In my anguish I grumbled to my wife, “I’ve tried to do everything right! I’ve willingly sacrificed and consecrated and given my heart and soul to the Lord and His missionaries! How can things possibly go this way? This is a cost I never imagined paying when we accepted our assignment.”

I am somewhat ashamed to admit that I began to loathe my wife’s cheerful mission stickers. There were times when I wept as I walked in the woods near our mission home. After my tears dried, I would counsel with and uplift struggling missionaries, smiling outwardly while sorrowing inside. “This is not what I signed up for!” I lamented in my personal prayers.

Ultimately, it was my Savior and a handful of His disciples who rescued me. My dear wife and missionary companion, one of the few who was aware of my trial, reminded me of the goodness of our Father in Heaven and the Savior. Special friends ministered to me in meaningful ways and created a new path forward for me to follow. I was buoyed up by reading about the experiences of ancient Saints such as the apostle Peter and of modern Saints who had consecrated their all when called upon. My daily study of the Book of Mormon especially helped me remain spiritually centered on the Savior. Transcribing, annotating, and sharing the personal records of William and Rachel Atkin and their fellow handcart pioneers soothed my soul. Like them, I wanted to be faithful to my temple promises and remain on the covenant path. Ultimately, the meekness the Savior demonstrated during His mortal ministry inspired me to be increasingly humble and forgiving. I learned a great deal about the majesty of the character of Christ during this wintry season of my life.

Since those challenging days, a silver lining has emerged in my personal life that continues to brighten. I am regularly reminded that just as there are known and unknown costs, there are also anticipated and unanticipated blessings that far surpass any cost we are asked to pay. I am grateful for a patient Savior who allows me to count and recount the costs of my discipleship.

President Monson tells the story of a retired executive named Ed who lived the example of a quorum member. On one occasion President Monson was speaking with Ed and asked him, “‘Ed, what are you doing in the Church?’ He replied, ‘I have the best assignment in the ward. My responsibility is to help men who are unemployed find permanent employment. This year I have helped 12 of my brethren who were out of work to obtain good jobs. I have never been happier in my entire life.’” President Monson continues: “Short in stature, ‘Little Ed,’ as we affectionately called him, stood tall that evening as his eyes glistened and his voice quavered. He showed his love by helping those in need. He restored human dignity. He opened doors for those who knew not how to do so themselves.”