Gospel Story Finder

When Grandma and Grandpa Johns left to serve a mission to the Bern Switzerland Temple, their family members resolved to follow their example. In their own way, they would be missionaries, too.
Kyle was in the fourth grade and took the challenge very seriously. When he asked his mother what he could do to be a missionary, she answered, “You have to find someone, be a good friend to him, and then wait and see what happens.”
When the new school year began, Kyle looked around at the members of his class. Pedro, a boy from Mexico, looked like he needed a special friend. Soon Kyle and Pedro were talking and playing together. Kyle invited Pedro to his home to play, and he often went to Pedro’s home.
Because Sunday was a special day for Kyle and his family, he and his brothers did not play in their neighborhood or have friends over to their home on that day. Instead, their family went to church and enjoyed family activities together afterward.
Pedro didn’t understand. His family didn’t have rules like Kyle’s family, and he could do whatever he wanted to on Sunday. Kyle’s mother suggested that he invite Pedro to Primary. Maybe then he would understand why Kyle’s family chose to do what they did on Sunday. Kyle told Pedro, “Come with me to Primary, and we can be together on Sunday mornings. You can ride with us, and we’ll take you home afterward.”
Pedro was interested. He asked Kyle to come with him to ask his father for permission.
When Kyle asked Pedro’s father, he answered, “If Pedro wants to go, then it is all right with me.”
The next Sunday found Kyle and Pedro together in Primary. The teacher was very kind and welcoming. When the class was ending, he gave an assignment to the class from the scriptures for the following Sunday. Kyle had his own copies of the scriptures and took them to Primary each Sunday. He was eager to do the assignment the teacher made. So was Pedro, but he didn’t have any scriptures of his own. He went to his father and asked if he could have a set. Even though Pedro and his family were not members of the Church, his father saw how much it meant to him to have his own set of scriptures. He decided that they were all good books and bought them for Pedro.
The boys continued to attend Primary together. One Sunday, the teacher gave the boys a list of scriptures to study and asked them to have their parents explain the meanings to them. He made new scripture assignments each week for several weeks.
As they studied, Pedro and Kyle became more and more interested in the gospel. They had a lesson on baptism and learned that the Lord requires it of everyone. They also learned how it is administered and by whom. As they helped Pedro with his reading assignments in preparation for his Primary class each week, Pedro’s family found this information new and interesting.
One day, Pedro asked Kyle, “Do you think my dad would let me be baptized?”
They decided that they would go ask Pedro’s father together. Imagine how surprised Pedro’s father was when they walked up to him and Kyle asked, “Can Pedro be baptized into my church?”
Pedro’s father said, “I’ll have to think about it before I give you an answer. I know a member of your church. I’d like to talk with him before I give my answer.”
Pedro’s father talked with his friend, who happened to be serving in Kyle’s ward as the mission leader. Soon an appointment was made for the missionaries to begin teaching Pedro’s family the gospel. The family studied and worked with the missionaries to gain testimonies. Pedro and his brother were ready to be baptized first. As their father and mother watched them enter the waters of baptism, the Spirit whispered to them that what was taking place was true and correct. They decided to prepare themselves for baptism.
As Kyle rode home with his family after the baptism of his friend, he told his mother, “Tomorrow Pedro and I will look around our class and find another person who needs a friend. Then we will invite him to Primary!”
Kyle was very happy to write to his grandma and grandpa in Switzerland and tell them of his experience as a missionary. He ended his letter by saying, “Everyone can be a missionary. You just have to be a good friend and then wait and see what happens!”

Several years ago I went on a bicycle trip in France with my sister, sister-in-law, and her daughter. Each morning we were given three pages of detailed instructions that, if followed exactly, would guide us to our destination of the day. While we were cycling through vineyards, the directives might instruct us to “go 165 feet (50 m) north, then turn left and go 330 feet (100 m).” More often, the instructions gave signs and street names.
One morning we cycled down an attractive road but soon realized that our instructions no longer fit the territory. Rapidly becoming lost, we decided to return to where we last knew we were on the right track to see if we could sort out where to go.
Sure enough, when we got there, we found a small road sign, noted in our instructions, that we had failed to see. Soon we were on our way again, matching our progress with the instructions, which again were making perfect sense.
The experience served as a metaphor that answered a puzzling question I’d had: Why, when someone has had a testimony of the gospel, would he or she ever fall away? It became clear to me that when we take a wrong turn (sin) or fail to follow God’s commandments, the instructions (the word of God) no longer make sense. The map, as it were, no longer fits the territory we’re in. If we haven’t strayed too far, we may recognize that the fault is ours and that we need to return (repent) or recommit to live as God has commanded to where we knew we were following the route correctly.

It was near the end of my freshman year of high school, and I was exhausted! Homework, worries, hanging out with friends, worries, musical practice, worries—it never seemed to end! High school had been fun and much better than I’d expected, but I still felt weighed down and tired, not to mention cranky. It was affecting my relationship with my mom. And my older sister—my usual confidante—was leaving for college in just two months! What was I going to do?
I was sitting watching general conference, worrying once again about life and its struggles, when President Thomas S. Monson stood up to speak. He began his talk by acknowledging that there were many concerns in the world around us. Inwardly, I agreed. The economy had me worried; I didn’t know much about economics, but I knew things weren’t great. Natural disasters had me worried; I was used to bad storms because we lived in Georgia, USA, but what if I needed to learn what to do in an earthquake or some other disaster? Even the little things had me worried; I had friends, but I was worried about being popular enough and about getting ready to date. And let’s not even mention worrying about preparing for college!
But then President Monson said, “It would be easy to become discouraged and cynical about the future—or even fearful of what might come—if we allowed ourselves to dwell only on that which is wrong in the world and in our lives. Today, however, I’d like us to turn our thoughts and our attitudes away from the troubles around us and to focus instead on our blessings as members of the Church. The Apostle Paul declared, ‘God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind’ [2 Timothy 1:7].”1
Wow. That was just what I needed to hear. Don’t fear? Don’t worry? That seemed to be all I could do lately! I kept listening as President Monson continued:
“How might we have joy in our lives, despite all that we may face? Again from the scriptures: ‘Wherefore, be of good cheer, and do not fear, for I the Lord am with you, and will stand by you’ [D&C 68:6].”2
At that moment, I realized that I was spending too much of my time worrying and fearing and not letting my heart be filled instead with faith. Of course life was going to be scary and difficult sometimes, but the Lord is on our side. He won’t let us fail. President Monson closed his talk with words of comfort and light: “My beloved brothers and sisters, fear not. Be of good cheer. The future is as bright as your faith.”3
It was time for me to change my attitude.
I started turning to the Lord more. When I got worried, I would pray in my head, or out loud if I was alone. I started trying to be more cheerful. I made a goal to be optimistic and happy in my sophomore year, and I ended up becoming best friends with other girls who seemed to have similar goals. Together, we made high school a happy and fun experience. I also started talking to my mom about good things that happened at school. I felt lighter, happier—and I became best friends with my mom. Learning to be cheerful had changed my whole perspective, and life became a joy again.

An older couple living in a little Mormon community in Idaho had been members of the Church all their lives. The husband was eighty-six years old and his wife eighty-four. He was still a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood. New home teachers who had heard about this family’s lack of interest toward the Church asked if they could come to their home.
This older couple was pleased that someone cared about them. The teachers taught the principles of the gospel. The couple responded. This eighty-six-year-old man became an elder and, with his wife, earned the privilege of going to the temple and being married for time and eternity.
If thoughtful home teachers had not visited this family, they would have probably died without having received essential blessings of the gospel. Caring shepherds could have reached this couple years before when their family was growing up. The couple was grateful that home teachers finally had the courage to come.

Recently Sister Gong and I saw covenant belonging at its tender best in a hospital room. A young father desperately needed a kidney transplant. His family had wept, fasted, and prayed for him to receive a kidney. When news came that a life-saving kidney had just become available, his wife quietly said, “I hope the other family is OK.” To belong by covenant is, in the words of the Apostle Paul, “that I may be comforted together with you by the mutual faith both of you and me.”

My service in the army went fine until one day my friend discovered the feed to his automatic rifle was missing. In my country, stealing such an item is a serious crime against the government and is punishable with jail time. Our entire company looked for the missing part for three days, which was the time we had been given to find it. I didn’t look in my own footlocker because I knew I hadn’t taken it.
The captain of the company, a member of an evangelical church, authorized a search of all footlockers. All members of the company were present when my footlocker was inspected. I was astonished when the searchers found the missing rifle feed in it. I had no idea how it had gotten there.
It was a painful moment for me; I knew the captain could send me to jail. Members of my company stood around watching, concerned with what was going to happen to me. The room was quiet as we waited to hear what the captain would say.
He called me over to him, and in a low voice asked for my explanation. All I could say was, “I don’t know.” He looked at me, and then he said these words: “I know what your conduct has been all this time, and I know you didn’t do it.” Then another officer said to the captain, “I, too, believe that this soldier did not do it.” One by one, all the other officers came up to me and offered their support.
Until that moment I hadn’t fully realized the blessing of obedience or the power of example. Tears began to run down my cheeks. I recognized the protecting power of my Savior. I knew He was at my side. Because of this experience, the verse in 3 Nephi that had impressed me earlier will always be engraved on my mind. I am grateful the Book of Mormon taught me to be a light and an example.

Steve Crandall sat bolt upright in bed.
“Your mother’s pains have started.” His father’s face was lined with worried creases. “Can you come help me clear the road to the highway?”
Steve was already struggling to pull on long underwear, sweaters, socks, pants, parka, boots, muffler, gloves. His heart was racing.
Shoveling snow, opening the garage door, starting the jeep, hitching the drag, swinging open the jeep door for his father—Steve fumbled with numb fingers while his heart beat with the fury of the wind swirling up the snow drifts.
Through the roar and clanking of the old jeep, his father shouted, “Take it easy, Steve. We’ll make it. Your mother has had nine kids before this, including you.”
Steve was glad to be able to hide his face in the parka hood. He was quiet for a moment. Then he let his memory wander and thought back to the time when Mom had Julie. There had been no special precautions that time; Dad had just helped Mom to the car, and they drove off to the hospital.
That seemed a long time ago and many miles away in a place where everything was so much different. This was Alaska. It was 50° F. below zero. The hospital was 51 miles away, and there was no telephone in their house. This time Dad paused to give Mom a priesthood blessing before helping her to the car. This time, Dad, Steve, and his two sisters prayed together in the car that they would make it down the road before the baby came. But this time, too, when it was all over and little Rachael took her place in the Crandall clan, 16-year-old Steve felt older somehow. It was as if he had been a part of something that was much more real than he had ever experienced before.
That is how everything has become since Steve’s family moved a year ago into their little log house in the wilds near Fairbanks. There are six other families within five miles in the woods where they live, but it is more than 30 miles into town and about 15 miles to the Eielson Air Force Base. They have no electricity or telephone, their close neighbors are the lynx, fox, and bear, and their television set is the view from their window of the Alaska Mountain Range shrouded by dense spruce forests. Life is simple.
But hewn down to its basic elements, life also seems richer. The isolation in the harsh climate has brought the family closer than ever before. Working together, playing together, worshiping together—they share more of life than ever before.
“B.J., Steve, Susan, David, Danny, Becky, Julie, Jesse … time for breakfast,” comes the call from the kitchen every morning. (Rachael is already in the high chair and Susie is away at college.) Soon the sounds of padding feet fill the kitchen, and everyone is poised for the new day. Over hot cakes the daily planning session begins. There is school for Steve and the little ones, and work for Dad at the air force base. There is work for 19-year-old B.J. (Billie Joe) and home Primary for both her and Mom in the afternoon. Then there is dinner together and home evening that night.
And there are always plenty of chores for everyone. Most of the summer is spent getting ready for the winter. And most of the winter is spent coping with the cold that can freeze bare flesh in less than a minute and the darkness that can linger into depression. With ten children and no electricity, the chores are given a twist of creativity.
The five-mile stretch of dirt road that leads to the highway is not maintained by the state, so one of Steve’s jobs is to help the men in the neighborhood pack down the snow during the winter by the use of a flat device called a drag. It seems that this always needs to be done at the least convenient times, such as when Mom is in labor or when it is time to go to church.
Another of Steve’s jobs is to keep the car from freezing up at night. “We had one garage, not insulated or anything, just plywood sides, with a wood stove in it,” he explained. “We would just pull the car in there every night, and I’d build a fire. I had to put enough wood in there so the fire would last all night. The car was only frozen up one time the whole winter.” His brown eyes glisten with pride he knows is well-earned.
Steve’s expertise with wood burning stoves has unexpectedly come in handy at other times too. When the kitchen stove was on the blink one morning, he stoked up the basement stove so his mother and sisters, huddling in their parkas, could cook hotcakes for the family in the pitch black 32-degree basement air. Some of the younger brothers and sisters were assigned to run the hotcakes upstairs before the chill reached through and through.
As the days wear on, it seems that work has a way of turning into fun for the Crandall family. Family home evening, a chore for many families, is as easy as the summer rain on the flower-dotted flat lands for Steve’s family.
One night when it was time for home evening, Steve suggested, “Let’s do something exciting tonight—like kickball or something.”
So Becky and Julie went outside to set up bases while the older girls stayed to clean up the dinner dishes. It wasn’t long before eight-year-old Becky flew through the door, her face ashen and her voice trembling in fright. “There’s a bear out there! There’s a bear out there!”
Suddenly everyone was bumping shoulders on the porch trying to catch a good view of the bear. There he was, foraging through the bushes, pausing for a moment to watch the commotion on the Crandalls’ porch. Suddenly, a neighbor pointed his rifle out the side window and fired at the bear several times. The injured bear began to lumber away. Quickly Dad and Steve grabbed their guns to help out. “You don’t leave a wounded bear up here. They can get vicious,” Dad explained.
They never caught the bear that night. But when Mom asked, “Was that enough excitement for you, Steve?” laughter filled the tiny house.
Excitement and laughter seldom leave Steve’s house. The Crandalls live life to the fullest, with an intensity that shows even in their recreation. Steve and 11-year-old Danny once entered a local 26-mile marathon cross-country race. When Steve gave out early and quit the race, Danny kept going. He finished third in his category, the youngest of the contestants. “One of us had to finish,” he said with his head bowed.
By far, Church work is given the most serious attention by the Crandalls. Everyone has at least one Church job, and so the gospel is a cooperative effort. With Dad in the branch presidency, Mom a teacher in the Relief Society, B.J. a teacher in the Primary, and Steve a member of the planning committee for the all-Alaska youth conference, the family car is kept hopping. During spring breakup, when the snow melts and the road to the highway becomes as muddy as the sludge from a gold miner’s pan, attending church services becomes a challenge. The four-wheel drive jeep is the only vehicle that can navigate the muddy stretches of road to the air force base chapel.
“There’s the whole family in that little bitty 1943 jeep,” Mom laughs. “We all get into our grubs; everybody climbs into the jeep. We strap a suitcase full of our good clothes onto the hood along with Daddy’s briefcase, and off we go to church. It’s funny!”
Church meetings are worth the effort, though. The closeness of the Crandalls seems to be shared by other families in the branch. And it spills over into the greater branch family. A willing hand is always outstretched. Making the most of each moment is their byword. One day Steve forgot his shirt for meeting, so another boy loaned him one of his. Although two of Steve could have fit into the shirt, one very relieved Steve could attend his meetings. B.J. tells of one experience she had with the Young Adults in the area:
“One night after I had not been to Young Adults for three weeks, they all came to my house for a party!” She shook her head in wonder.
The pioneer spirit shows in little ways. At dances, beneath the elegant gowns, girls wear mukluks, sealskin boots. After a shipment of fabric comes into the general store, everyone shows up at church and school with shirts, dresses, and skirts of the same fabric. And this spirit shows in big ways, too. When the hay is ready to harvest, everyone comes to help. Eggs and milk are shared by all.
“The whole branch is close.” Dad sums it up well. With little else to hold onto, that gospel love is like an iron rod in the vast wilderness. “The people up here have to live like the Mormon pioneers. They share. They work together,” Dad explains.
Steve agrees. His life is painted in pioneer panorama, but with strokes that show a Master’s gentle touch. Last year when winter was fierce, the whole family gathered in the front room, some of the smaller members in Dad’s arms. They read from the scriptures by the flickering light of kerosene lamps. Through the front window, Steve could see the bright lights of the Aurora Borealis dancing silent approval over the warm scene. This is life at its best—a candle on a very cold hillside.

Elder Soares: I had a brother two years older than me who had a hearing problem. He had a lot of difficulty communicating, and I can remember how I essentially became his companion, helping him to do things and communicate with people. I had to learn to communicate with sign language at church. For example, he once received an assignment to give a talk in church. However, he wasn’t able to speak. But I sat with him, and I, speaking to him with signs, helped him to write a talk. In sacrament meeting, he stood beside me at the pulpit as I read the talk that he prepared.

One day my friend was passing out birthday invitations to kids in our class. Instead of giving me one, she said, “I’m not inviting you to my party.” I was very sad. I decided to get her a present anyway. I know I can be like Jesus when I do nice things even if others don’t include me. Sometimes it is hard to do, but I love my friends even when they don’t include me. I know that’s how Jesus wants us to be.
Lily E., age 6, Arizona, USA

Last year I was a Webelos Scout. When you’re in Webelos you try to get your Webelos badge and Arrow of Light. To earn them you have to get a certain number of activity badges. When I looked through the book of activity badges I saw a lot that looked fun. But then I saw one badge that I was afraid of: the Aquanaut badge. I was scared of it because I didn’t know how to swim. I thought I would sink. I decided not to try it.
Then my dad became my leader. He encouraged me to try to earn all of the activity badges. I was still scared of the Aquanaut badge. But I decided I’d earn all of them.
Dad said having faith in Heavenly Father would help me. We read 3 Nephi 18:20, which says, “And whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, which is right, believing that ye shall receive, behold it shall be given unto you.”
I prayed every day that Heavenly Father would help me be brave so that I could learn to swim. I did my part by practicing. I would exercise at home to strengthen my muscles, and my dad would take me swimming. Then I finally felt ready to pass it off. I said a prayer for help. Before I knew it, I had done it! After I was done, I gave a prayer of thanks to Heavenly Father.
I know Heavenly Father listens to my prayers.

I am a second-grade teacher in a community where Latter-day Saints are well known. So I was surprised one day when a peer told me of another teacher’s remark about me. The teacher had said, “Did you know that Mrs. Craig is not a Christian?”
I was torn inside. I had just lost my husband of 28 years, and I had been closer to the Savior and my Heavenly Father than at any other time in my life. I knew that I would have to bear my testimony to this teacher, but I wasn’t sure how to do it. I did not want to offend her, but I also wanted her to know that Latter-day Saints are Christians.
The next morning the Holy Ghost whispered to me what I should say. As I lay in bed, I thought of all the paintings I had in my home of the life of Jesus Christ. Each painting had a special place in my heart and was connected to a special time in my life. Thinking of those paintings brought many tender feelings about the love I have for the Savior.
One painting in particular shows the Savior calming the stormy sea. It reminds me that He conquers all and that I, through Him, can also overcome all things, including the heartbreak of losing my husband.
As I continued to reflect on the paintings, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of gratitude for the blessings that had come to me because I belong to the Savior’s Church.
That morning at school I went into my colleague’s room and told her I wanted her to know I am a Christian. I asked her, “How many paintings of the Savior do you have in your home?” She told me that instead of paintings, she had two crosses in her home.
I told her about the paintings of the Savior in my home and what the scenes depicted in the paintings meant to me. I then bore my testimony of Jesus Christ and His Atonement.
I also told my co-worker that it was only through my knowledge of Jesus Christ that I had been able to survive the past year. I told her how His tender mercies had helped my children and me get through the difficult time of losing a father and husband.
I hugged her as I left, and she offered a sincere apology. There was no doubt in my heart that she knew that I, a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, am a Christian.

Nine-year-old Camille has lots of friends. “The thing I really like about my friends is that they are all different,” she says. “They come from different places, and they have different ways of doing things.” Camille loves to learn good things from her friends, and she likes to share things with them. The best thing she’s ever shared with a friend is the gospel. After sharing the first article of faith with her friend Yailin, Camille invited her friend’s family to meet the missionaries. Camille also taught Yailin how to pray. Now Yailin and her mother are members of the Church.

My son-in-law, now serving as a bishop in my home stake, received a great blessing from his own regular temple attendance.
During one visit to the temple, he had the opportunity to meet our daughter, Emily. After returning home that evening, he shared with members of his family that he had the impression he had met his wife. After a short courtship, Jaxon asked for my daughter’s hand in marriage and they were sealed in that same temple for time and eternity.

When schoolteachers in Kaiserslautern, Germany, wonder if holding classes, grading papers, and putting up with noisy students are worth it, the youth of the Landstuhl Military Ward, Kaiserslautern Germany Military Stake, like to remind them of their value. Each year for the past six years, the youth have expressed appreciation for their teachers’ service and caring with a teacher appreciation night.
The youth chose “For the Strength of Youth” as this year’s theme. They made a memory and quote book for their teachers, thanking them for their guidance, knowledge, and service. The youth also treated the teachers to dinner in the Church cultural hall, which they decorated for the occasion, and they put on a show to entertain them. On each table they left copies of For the Strength of Youth for the teachers to take home. Their teachers certainly appreciate being appreciated!

I have discussed the duty of priesthood leaders and members to care for their families, quorums, wards, and stakes. I should like now to discuss another aspect of priesthood responsibility, which is our privilege to sustain those in authority over us. Wilford Woodruff recorded a remarkable account which illustrates the importance of this responsibility.
In the early days of the Church, President Brigham Young asked Wilford Woodruff to take his family to Boston and gather the Saints from New England and Canada and send them to Zion. With a company of 100, they arrived at Pittsburgh at sundown. Brother Woodruff recorded:
“We did not want to stay there, so I went to the first steamboat that was going to leave. I saw the captain and engaged passage for us on that steamer. I had only just done so when the spirit said to me, … ‘Don’t go aboard that steamer, nor your company.’ Of course, I went and spoke to the captain, and told him [that] I had made up my mind to wait.
“Well, that ship started, and had only got five miles down the river when it took fire, and three hundred persons were burned to death or drowned.” What if the Saints had not followed the counsel of Wilford Woodruff? All wisely chose to be obedient. Had they not done so, they would have perished.

Priscila prepared for her temple trip by studying general conference talks about the temple with her mother, reading Church magazines, and studying the scriptures. She also gathered the names of four generations on her father’s side of the family so she could perform vicarious baptisms for them. Priscila’s mom compiled the family history information for four generations of her side of the family.
Once the 185 members departed Manaus by boat, Priscila and the five other young women in the caravan helped tend the Primary-age children and fixed meals. At night they slept in hammocks on the boat deck to try to stay cool in the hot jungle temperatures.
“Being on the caravan was so spiritual because everyone was so excited and anxious to go to the temple,” Priscila comments. “Most people had never been to the temple, so almost no one knew exactly what to expect. Everyone sang songs and read scriptures together. We were so united.”
The bus ride was the most difficult part of the journey because the buses traveled both day and night for three days, and the members were unable to move around much. As a result, many of the members had severe pain and swelling in their legs.
When they arrived at the temple, Priscila immediately went to the baptistry to do baptisms for the dead, while her mother went to a different part of the temple to receive her endowment. Priscila spent every day in São Paulo in the temple, even though it was the first time she had been to the large metropolis.
“I spent my 15th birthday in the temple. When the baptismal font coordinator discovered it was my birthday, he told me he had a present for me,” Priscila explains. “So many people come to the temple that most patrons can do the baptisms for only five people. He gave me a large stack of names of people who needed their baptismal work done for them. He couldn’t have given me a better present.”
Priscila’s mother comments about other changes that happened in Priscila’s life: “The caravan spiritually influenced her. She was a light for all of the other members. Everyone came back different. On the bus ride home, we felt that our appearances and faces had changed; we were all so happy.”

I recently attended a fireside with many young people from the Chicago area. In talking to them, I told of a young woman who gave a talk several years ago entitled “The Kind of a Woman I Want to Become.” It was excellent and was later published in the Improvement Era. A minister from the East read it and wrote for permission to publish it in pamphlet form. He said, “I want every mother and every mother’s daughter in my parish to read that article.”
At the close of the meeting, a young man came up to me and said, “Brother Richards, I also will write such an article and send you a copy of it.” He is 16, a priest, and the only member of his family in the Church. He is a member of the South Shore First Ward in the Chicago Heights Illinois Stake. His name is Tomas Andres Cruz.
This is what he wrote: “The kind of young man I should be is one who is very close to our Heavenly Father. I feel every young man should bear his priesthood proudly, do his assignments willingly, and be ready to serve his ward in time of need.
“I have a few goals in life that I hope I can cling to. Three are to serve a worthy mission, receive a temple marriage, and raise a very spiritually strong family. If I can’t attain a temple marriage, I won’t get married at all.
“I look forward to the day when I can bless, baptize, confirm, and ordain my own children.
“Chastity is very important these days. The first things I look for in a girl are her testimony, her modesty, and her personality. I know that you must be morally clean to enter the house of the Lord to receive the blessings of an eternal marriage. I hope and pray that the sister I marry will meet my standards as well as those of the Church.
“I know with all my heart that this church is true. I am grateful to be a part of it even though I am the only member of my family who is a Latter-day Saint. I am thankful for my priesthood and those who support me in my callings. I am grateful for our leaders who guide us through these hard times.
“I leave you this witness of the truth in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.”
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if every young girl in Israel would write an article on the kind of a woman she wants to become and then check it over about every 30 days to make sure that she is keeping on the straight and narrow path that will help her achieve her objective? And wouldn’t it be wonderful if every young man in Israel would write an article on the kind of a man he wants to become and then check on it occasionally to make sure that he achieves his objective?

When we arrived at Point Lake, it was covered with ice floes. Shifting ice floes in a bad wind would crash a small canoe like an egg shell. We made camp, and I asked Bob to pray that night. He exhibited a faith rarely seen. He said, simply, “Father, stop the wind.”
The next day when we got up, it was perfectly still. The lake was smooth as a mirror. But we had 32 kilometers to cross. Even the slightest breeze once we were on the lake and we would be destroyed. For 32 kilometers we pushed through the floes. Twice the canoe froze in the ice as we got hemmed in, and we had to jump and pry and push to work our way free. Finally, after 7 1/2 hours, we got into open waters. We had just gotten through the ice floes when the wind began to blow again. The wind had been a daily companion except for those 7 1/2 hours. We prayed again, this time a prayer of thanks.

A doctor named Rachel Remen tells a true story about a handsome, young football player who loses the feeling of love that light brings. His life had been good, with friends and an athletic body. Then he got cancer in his leg. His leg had to be cut off above the knee. Playing football and receiving fame were now things of the past. He grew angry, making his life dark and confusing. It was hard for him to know who he was.
Doctor Remen asked this young man to draw what his body looked like. He drew a simple sketch of a vase. Then he took a thick, black crayon and drew a deep crack down the vase. It was clear that he believed his body was like a broken vase that could never be useful again. This was not really true. They made him an artificial leg so he could walk. But his heart felt so dark that his body wouldn’t heal.
Then he talked to some people who had problems like his own. He understood their feelings. He started to help other people feel better. A light came into his own heart, and he started to heal.
He met a young lady with similar problems. Her heart was filled with shadows. When he entered her hospital room for the first time, she refused to look at him and lay in bed with her eyes closed. He tried everything he knew to reach her. He played the radio, he told jokes, and finally he took off his artificial leg and let it drop to the floor. Startled, she opened her eyes and saw him for the first time as he began to hop around the room, snapping his fingers in time to the music. She burst out laughing and said, “If you can dance, maybe I can sing.” They became friends. They shared their fears and helped each other feel hopeful.
In the young man’s last visit with the doctor, he looked at his old drawing of the vase with the crack in it and said, “That picture of me is not finished.” Taking a yellow crayon, he drew lines going from the crack to the edges of the paper. He put his finger on the ugly black crack and said, “This is where the light comes through.” (See Kitchen Table Wisdom [1996], 114–18.) I believe he meant that dark and difficult experiences help us to feel the light from Heavenly Father’s love.

I had learned that we must always pray in the name of Jesus Christ. But something I had seen and heard had taught me those words were more than a formality. There was a picture of the Savior on the bedroom wall where my mother was bedridden in the years before she died. She had put it there because of something her cousin Samuel O. Bennion had told her. He had traveled with an Apostle who described seeing the Savior in a vision. Elder Bennion gave her that print, saying that it was the best portrayal he had ever seen of the Master’s strength of character. So she framed it and placed it on the wall where she could see it from her bed.
She knew the Savior, and she loved Him. I had learned from her that we do not close in the name of a stranger when we approach our Father in prayer. I knew from what I had seen of her life that her heart was drawn to the Savior from years of determined and consistent effort to serve Him and to please Him. I knew the scripture was true which warns, “For how knoweth a man the master whom he has not served, and who is a stranger unto him, and is far from the thoughts and intents of his heart?” (Mosiah 5:13).