Gospel Story Finder

As I grew older, I doubted that I would be able to serve a mission because of my family responsibilities. Still, I had a great desire to serve and often thought of the blessings I would lose if I did not go on a mission. Then one night I dreamed that the Savior was sitting next to me. I had such a special feeling of peace and safety that I could no longer doubt what I needed to do.
My employer gave me a leave of absence from my job, and I accepted a mission call. When I had been on my mission a year, my brother wrote that my employer had changed his mind and refused to hold my job until I returned. He said if I did not return home, I would lose my job. “Do not worry about material things,” I wrote back. “If I lose that job, the Lord will help me find something better.” I finished my mission.
I am grateful that, during my mission, none of my brothers or sisters suffered any serious illnesses. I returned to find them all well. We are still together, helping each other. We have been sealed to our parents, and I have been married in the temple to a very special woman. We have been blessed with two children of our own, so now there are nine of us.

I once saw how this kind of learning can take place. One of our children was in great difficulty in his fourth-grade class. He needed to complete a certain project by the next day, or he would face disaster. After dinner, my wife, Marie, told me that she had thought of a way she could help him. I ushered our other children out of the kitchen, and the handicraft project began.
I periodically heard outbursts from our fourth-grader, who kept insisting that he wouldn’t do another thing on the project. At one point, I offered to send him to his room and tell him to forget it, but Marie calmly urged me to let her proceed with the plan.
After about three hours, as I was tucking the other children into bed, our son and his mother entered the bedroom. Carrying his project as proudly as if it were a birthday cake, he invited the other children to see it.
He had made every part of it himself. He placed it on a counter and started for his bed. Then he looked back at his mother with a broad, boyish grin. He ran across the room, threw his arms around her waist, and hugged her close. The two of them exchanged glances that carried great meaning. He went to bed, and we left the room.
“What happened?” I asked my wife. “How did you do it?”
Marie replied that she had made up her mind that no matter what he said or did, she wouldn’t raise her voice or lose her patience. She had also decided that leaving him was not an alternative, even if the project took all night. Then she made this significant observation: “I didn’t know I had it in me to do it.”
She had discovered within herself a reservoir of patience and endurance she never would have found without the deep commitment that grew from a sense of real belonging. Belonging is for thick and thin, and this was one of the thin times! Exerting such immovable loyalty to another person teaches us how to love—indeed, how to be more like the Savior.

My name is Michele Blackburn, and I am a senior missionary serving with my husband in the Caribbean Area as technology specialists. We have had a busy two years as we have provided, set up, and supported the members of the Church with technology in their buildings. Early in our mission, I knew that I would be my husband’s technology assistant, but my true passion is for music. Elder Ronald A. Rasband shared, “We need to engage in the activities, service, and lifestyle that will help to strengthen and protect our talents to be used righteously.”1
It wasn’t long into our mission until I realized I should follow this advice. I began teaching piano lessons in our stake once a week with a group of nine students. The class quickly grew to nearly forty students and needed to be divided, so I prayed for guidance and was inspired to realize that talents are gifts that lead us to conversion and to understand the importance of increasing those talents. Elder David A. Bednar suggested this conversion occurs in three parts, “Conversion is an offering of self, of love, and of loyalty we give to God in gratitude for the gift of testimony.”2
I began to see changes occurring in my students as they demonstrated a belief in themselves, completing Elder Bednar’s first step, offering yourself. Their regular attendance created a support system among each other which demonstrated their love for each other. I witnessed the third step, loyalty, from sister Isabel Morel who came every week to support her niece and a friend. Although sister Morel had never played piano during our class, I somehow felt that she knew how to play.
The following week, Sister Morel explained that she knew how to play the piano and she felt prompted to offer her assistance and would be interested in assisting with the class if I needed her. She was another answer to my prayers. Her willingness to act, by offering to share her talent, selflessly serve and love her niece and her friend, were all steps taken towards being more fully converted to our Father in Heaven and His Son, Jesus Christ.
It is my testimony that our Heavenly Father loves all His children. He has a plan for each of us in this life. He prepares experiences for us that enrich our lives and help our testimonies to grow and our personal conversion to Him to deepen. He provides the assistance we need to accomplish the things He asks us to do. It is my testimony that if we embrace the opportunities He offers, the blessings of heaven will be showered down upon us as our talents are increased, our prayers are answered, and our trust in Heavenly Father grows. How grateful I am for a loving Father in Heaven.

My beloved brothers and sisters, I want to sustain with all my heart and soul this day President Benson and his counselors. My sixteen years of experiences with them has taught me that they are true prophets, true ministers, and servants of the Lord, Jesus Christ. I know that they love me, and I know that they love you.
A few years ago while I was serving as stake president, I had some special, spiritual experiences, one of which I’d like to share with you today. One time in a stake conference, one of my great friends and reactivated brothers stood and bore his testimony of the power that had come into his life because of the teachings of Jesus Christ and of those who had ministered unto him. His heart was full, his eyes overflowed, as he stood before the audience with his arms around his two sons. He said, “My gratitude knows no bounds. My life has been totally changed by the gospel and by the people who have truly loved me. I will need to spend the rest of my life ministering and teaching others as partial repayment for all that I have received.”
And minister and serve he did, with love, unending effort, and great personal concern. As a home teacher, he was assigned to some special, great families who, as he had once been, were away from the Church and had challenges—some almost overwhelming.
He began his work in earnest, going to them as a friend and servant—a true minister. He visited and visited and served them in every way that he could. At first (just as he had been), they didn’t want to talk to him or hear his message, and often they would leave the room when he came. But he understood, for he had done it himself a hundred times to others, leaving his wife alone to hear them. He understood how they felt, expressed as follows by a reactivated man who is currently a bishop in the Church:
“Because I wasn’t living a righteous life, I looked down my nose at others. When you lose the Spirit of the Lord, you don’t judge things properly. You look to judge negatively and to find fault. You wrap yourself in your own cocoon, so to speak, and you rationalize. But when I started working with these men, I found some of these fellows like to do the things that I like to do. I found out that they put their shoes on the same way I did. It was the influence of those men; they accepted me. They put their arms around me, and they accepted me for what I was and who I was. And we went to work, and I ate in their homes. And I just started catching the Spirit.”
My friend prayed harder and harder for guidance and direction, went to the homes more often, and began to teach and encourage his families to pray for help to overcome problems. He became their servant, their minister, their friend, and now he was able to teach them.
One of the fathers he was teaching had what was thought to be an incurable alcohol problem. Every day after work for twenty years, he bought alcohol and consumed it until he could hardly find his way home. He received friendship and encouragement to pray to heaven for help. One day after his work, while he was driving into the countryside with his bottle, a voice came into his heart to stop his car, walk out into the field, and pray to Father in Heaven for help. His simple prayer was heard by his Father in Heaven, and as he stood up and walked back to his car, all desire to drink liquor left his life. The powers of heaven had descended upon him, and he knew that God lived and loved him.
I heard him later stand before the members and testify of the love of God and of my friend and others who had ministered unto him and taught him. My heart has been touched as I think of how powerful and important the words are: “They taught and did minister one to another.” (3 Ne. 26:19.)

In 1996, at age 45, Ron was in the middle of a successful career when the call came to serve as mission president of the New York New York North Mission. Like the Apostles of old, he “straightway left [his] nets” (Matthew 4:20).
“Accepting the call took only a microsecond,” Elder Rasband says. He said to the Lord, “You want me to go serve; I’ll go serve.”
Ron took along a great lesson he had learned from his professional experience: “People are more important than anything else.”5 With that knowledge and his honed leadership skills, he was ready to begin full-time service in the Lord’s kingdom.
Ron and Melanie found missionary work in New York City both challenging and invigorating. Ron was quick to delegate responsibility to the missionaries—inspiring their loyalty, and teaching, building, and lifting them in the process.
In 2000, a short eight months after Ron and Melanie had completed their mission, Ron was called to the Seventy, where his preparation, experience, and many talents have blessed the Church. As a member of the Seventy, he served as a counselor in the Europe Central Area Presidency, helping to oversee the work in 39 nations. Though he left college more than 40 years ago, he remains a serious student, welcoming ongoing mentoring from his senior Brethren as he supervised the North America West, Northwest, and three Utah Areas; served as Executive Director of the Temple Department; and served in the Presidency of the Seventy, working closely with the Twelve.
Recently, Elder Rasband observed, “What a great honor and privilege it is for me to be the least among the Twelve and to learn from them in every way and in every occasion.”6
Mormon Preachers, First Missionaries in Denmark, by Arnold Friberg (based on a painting by Christen Dalsgaard, 1856); Dan Jones Awakens Wales, by Clark Kelley Price
Two paintings adorn the walls of Elder Rasband’s office. One is of Mormon missionaries teaching a family in Denmark in the 1850s. The second is of early missionary Dan Jones preaching from the perch of a well in the British Isles. The paintings remind Elder Rasband of his own ancestry.
“These early pioneers gave their all to the gospel of Jesus Christ and leave a legacy for their posterity to follow,” he has testified.7 What pushed Elder Rasband’s ancestors forward amidst adversity and persecution is what most qualifies him for his new calling: a knowledge and a sure witness of the Lord and His work.
“I have so very much to learn in my new calling,” he has said. “I feel very humble about that. But there’s one aspect of my calling I can do. I can bear testimony ‘of the name of Christ in all the world’ (D&C 107:23). He lives!”8
As a great-grandson of pioneers, he adds: “What they felt, I feel. What they knew, I know.”9
And what they hoped for in their posterity is embodied in the life, teachings, and service of Elder Ronald A. Rasband, who is following their example and honoring their legacy as he goes forward as one of the Lord’s special witnesses.

When I was a youth, I didn’t know what the Holy Ghost felt like. I was around 12 years old when my mother sat me down and asked me this important question: “Mark,” she said, “has the Lord ever told you through the Holy Ghost that the Church is true?”
I wasn’t in the business of lying to my mom, so I honestly and sheepishly responded “No?”
She then said, “Heavenly Father wants you to know for yourself, but you need to put in the effort. If you will read the Book of Mormon and pray, He will let you know of its truthfulness by the Holy Ghost.”
I had my own copy of the Book of Mormon, but I had never read it on my own. With the determination to take this invitation seriously, I started my own spiritual journey. Each night before I went to bed, I read a chapter or so in the Book of Mormon. As I knelt down to pray, I asked Heavenly Father to let me know that it was true. As I prayed, a peaceful feeling rested upon me. I felt good inside.
Were these feelings from the Holy Ghost? I wasn’t really sure. This was all new to me, and I didn’t know what the promptings of the Holy Ghost felt like. I wondered if an angel was going to come visit me or if perhaps a great divine light would appear in my room. Nevertheless, with sincere desire to receive the promised knowledge from the Holy Ghost, I continued to read and pray night after night. Every time I prayed, I felt feelings of peace, and I felt good inside.
It wasn’t until later that I realized the Lord had been answering my prayers all along, but I had been looking for a different kind of answer. I just didn’t realize that we can “feel” the promptings of the Holy Ghost.

I stared at the folded bill in my hand as I realized I still needed to pay tithing on money I had earned during the last week of my summer job. I owed 90 rands in tithing, and I had one R100 bill.
I had just started my final year of medical school and had many school expenses. I sat there fiddling with the R100 bill, thinking about paying tithing. My summer job had ended, and it was unlikely I’d find a job that would fit into my busy schedule. However, my parents had taught me to pay a full tithe. This money belonged to the Lord, and I knew it. With that thought, I placed the money in the envelope and paid my tithing.
In the days following, as I searched for a job, I prayed that the windows of heaven would open for me. I needed a job that would fit my schedule, pay well for low hours, and still allow me time to study. In short, I needed a miracle.
Two weeks later a friend suggested that I apply for a job at the hospital where our medical school had just opened a new education floor. I walked to the office and knocked on the door. The woman inside, who had taught our class two years before, remembered me.
“I was wondering if you were looking to hire any tutors for your new program,” I said. “If you are, I would like to be hired.”
“We are indeed,” she replied. “We are looking for someone to tutor a group of second-year medical students for an hour in the afternoons. It’s a flexible start time and will require you to study a different patient each day and then to teach the students. Can you do that?” she asked.
The Lord had helped me find a job that was exactly what I needed! It was the answer to my prayer.
After working a month, I found out just how much I had been blessed. My paycheck showed that I was being paid a monthly salary three times higher than I had thought. In addition, I received vacation pay.
The Lord had opened the windows of heaven and showered me with blessings far greater than I had ever expected. As a result, my faith was strengthened in the principle of tithing.

Eighteen-year-old Kim Lesher took a business training course while she attended high school. During her senior year she worked part-time at a bank. As a result, she was able to get a full-time job after graduating. Kim says, “I’m happy that I took business classes during high school because I now have marketable skills. Sometimes I didn’t really like taking shorthand and type, but they are a tremendous investment because they are the skills that got me my job. My bank president will hire only people who are trained.”

My heart feels warm tonight. Broken, bruised, torn, certainly. But beautifully warm. I feel intense gratitude—gratitude so deep and encompassing that it seems a new hole has opened in my soul to make room, gratitude so filling and so personal that it won’t stop coursing down my cheeks in silent tears. My husband is breathing. I can hear it, deep and soft.
Just a couple of hours ago, I climbed into his hospital bed, ignoring the gentle kicks from our soon-to-arrive baby, and found a spot among all the wires hooked to his chest where I could rest my head. Listening to his heartbeat in my ear was an experience that will be burned into my memory forever.
His heart beats still. Not as well as it did before the heart attack. But it beats still.
But mostly I feel gratitude to the Lord for my husband’s life—his deep breathing, his heart pumping blood, his living body and soul. His life is my Christmas miracle.

During recess, my friends asked me to swear. It was hard to say no because they’re my friends, and I wondered if they would tease me. But I still said no because I knew it wasn’t right. When I was eight, I was baptized, and I made promises to Heavenly Father to be obedient. When we obey the commandments, we are following Jesus. I know next time it will be easier to choose the right because I’ve done the right thing already.
Jayden B., age 8, Queensland, Australia

Youth from the Newcastle Stake and surrounding districts in Australia make the most of their Easter break youth conference. Some 120 young people gathered for last year’s activity, with the theme, “I teach them correct principles and they govern themselves.”

They had dances. They had waterfights. They had fun old movies. They put snags (sausages) on the barby. They had firesides, church meetings, and the best-loved testimony meeting.

But a major part of the conference was spent cleaning up the land around the Richmond Vale Mine Museum, at a historic coal mine. They pulled weeds, cleared train tracks, moved logs, and basically tidied up the area.

You know what to expect at girls’ camp—tents, outdoor cooking, dirt.

During a week spent in the high mountains of southern Utah, girls and leaders from the Las Vegas East Stake found something more, something magic. They discovered in each of their fellow campers something special to love.

Mary Beth Long, a first-year camper, came to camp reluctantly, but that soon changed. “Our camp leaders are crazy. You should have seen what they did!” What they did had something to do with a zany sense of humor and red licorice in their ears. Somewhere between flag ceremonies and foil dinners, magic touched Mary Beth’s heart, and she knew her leaders loved her. “I will never be the same person I was before girls’ camp,” she exclaimed.

Sometimes those who have successfully faced and fought handicaps of their own are the most willing to help when others are in need. Kenneth Scott Robertson, a deacon from the Bennion Tenth Ward, Bennion Utah West Stake, is a good example of this. Kenneth has cerebral palsy, a disease affecting muscles and body coordination, and was advised that he would never walk. He recently overcame that prognosis, however, and walked away from his wheelchair. Soon after, he went door-to-door and secured pledges of ten cents to one dollar for each book he would read during the coming four-week period. This was in conjunction with the Multiple Sclerosis Read-A-Thon. Kenneth read 60 books and was able to raise $318 for the multiple sclerosis research efforts.
The young deacon comes from a family of nine children and participates each year in the Special Olympics and also in the Scouting program.

When I was a young boy, two Primary teachers had a great influence on me. The first was Sister Wedtstein. She remained interested in us and our activities long after we left her class. As long as we were in the same stake, she stayed in touch.
The second was Sister Baker. Besides spending time in the classroom, we had a lot of activities. We went on hikes, had campfires, and roasted hot dogs. Her husband owned an airplane, and we often went to the airport to watch him take off. I still have pictures of those times, and they always bring back wonderful memories.
As I think about Sister Wedtstein and Sister Baker, I don’t remember in detail what they taught us. But I remember the deep love they had for us and the great respect we had for them in return.

I grew up in Redondo Beach, California, and had two older brothers, Bill and Dave, and a younger brother, John. The four of us hung around with each other a lot, and because we stuck together, there wasn’t much for us to be afraid of—except the crawl space beneath the house.
In southern California, houses do not have basements; they just have crawl spaces, a two-foot high area under the house where repairmen can crawl if they have to fix the plumbing or something. The four of us tried to make a hideout there once, but it was dark, damp, and dirty. There were big rusty nails sticking down and huge spiders in every corner. Our hideout lasted about ten minutes. From then on, if we were playing ball and the ball accidentally rolled into the crawl space, it was history. No one dared go in to retrieve it.
One day Dad brought home a surprise, the cutest little wavy-haired puppy we’d ever seen. He was mostly white, with a little black spot on his tail, as though someone had dipped the tip of it in black paint. Because of that, we named him Tippy.
Tippy was a boy’s dream dog. He was small, but he always managed to follow us and keep up with us wherever we’d go. He was always waiting for us when we got home from school. When we were lucky enough to get a snack after school, we’d sit on the back porch and eat while Tippy would face us, cocking his head first to one side, then to the other, patiently waiting to see which of us would share first. He didn’t really belong to any of us in particular. He was just everyone’s pal, the family dog.
Then one day a pack of big dogs came to the neighborhood. These were big dogs, the kind made mostly of teeth and meanness. As soon as they saw Tippy, they went after him. They chased him across the street and into our backyard, where he escaped into the crawl space. The big dogs didn’t follow him in, but they spent a few minutes barking and growling in front of the opening. They eventually left, but the experience frightened Tippy so much he lay curled up and shivering in the far corner of the crawl space, afraid to come out.
We spent the rest of the afternoon at the opening of the crawl space telling him the big dogs had gone, but Tippy wouldn’t move. We tried everything to coax him out—we even held out one of Mom’s cookies—but nothing worked. At times he even seemed afraid of us and would move farther away. After a time, we thought if we left him alone he might come out on his own. But the next day when we came home from school he still hadn’t moved.
Suddenly John did the bravest thing I’ve ever seen a kid do. He crawled right into the crawl space, the most terrifying place on earth! He slowly made his way to Tippy, talking very softly and calmly. When he finally got close enough, he took hold of Tippy. He held him close with one arm and carefully crawled back to safety.
When they finally came out into the light, John dusted the cobwebs and dirt from his clothes and hair. Tippy was overjoyed and showed his appreciation by licking John’s face and furiously wagging his tail.
From that time on, Tippy was no longer our dog, he was John’s dog. John had made a sacrifice worthy of declaring ownership. We knew it, and so did Tippy. Tippy was devoted to John. He followed him no matter where he went and slept at the foot of his bed. John took responsibility for Tippy’s care and feeding.

During middle school and high school I experienced wonderful and difficult years at the same time, because during adolescence a young person wants support from her parents. It wasn’t easy to be the only member of the Church at home when my parents did things that were at odds with the Church’s teachings. But I remembered what Nephi said, “If ye shall … endure to the end, behold, thus saith the Father: Ye shall have eternal life” (2 Ne. 31:20).
Years later my younger siblings were baptized, but my parents were not. The missionaries talked to them, but they did not want to be baptized. Their decision saddened me, but I knew I had set a good example.
When I was 16 I traveled to the temple in Orlando, Florida, and it was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. I went by myself and was able to be baptized for my ancestors. Two years later, when I received my Young Womanhood Recognition, my joy could not be contained. I felt that our Heavenly Father was pleased with me.
When President Gordon B. Hinckley visited our beautiful island of Puerto Rico and spoke to the members, I had the privilege of singing in the choir. He urged us to go to the temple on the neighboring island of the Dominican Republic. I did, and in that temple I made a firm decision that I would be married for eternity to a returned missionary.
I reached this goal when I found a worthy priesthood holder who is a returned missionary. We were sealed in the Dominican Republic temple for time and eternity. We now have a baby boy, and I am serving in the stake Young Women presidency. My parents are still not members, but I am pleased with the example I have given them. I try to build on the good in my parents while forgetting their imperfections.
I know I belong to the true Church and that Jesus Christ is my Savior. My dream, which I pray for, is to be sealed someday to my parents and siblings. I love this gospel that has given me so much joy and hope in my life.

Ethan saw a boy on the playground who walked differently than anyone else he’d seen. The boy shuffled his feet and twisted his hands together as he walked. Ethan thought the boy looked funny.
“Hey, guys, look at this!” One of Ethan’s friends ran up behind the boy and began following him, copying everything the boy did. Ethan snickered and did the same. Soon a line of boys were shuffling their feet and twisting their hands. When the boy mumbled to himself, Ethan and his friends mumbled too.
The boy stopped and turned to look at them. Did he know what they’d been doing? Ethan couldn’t tell by the boy’s blank expression. But then the boy turned and hobbled faster, like he wanted to get away from them.
As Ethan thought about what he had just done, he felt sick inside. He realized that every day the boy faced challenges that Ethan didn’t have—and he had laughed at the boy like he was a cartoon character on TV instead of a person with feelings.
“I should’ve helped the boy, not made fun of him,” Ethan thought to himself. He knew he should apologize, but what would he say?
“I’ll just forget the whole thing ever happened,” Ethan decided. “Except I’ll try not to laugh at people anymore.”
As days went by, Ethan had a hard time forgetting. Sometimes when Ethan saw the boy and remembered what happened, he got the same uncomfortable feeling inside. He knew the Holy Ghost was telling him he needed to do something more to set things right. Finally, Ethan gathered his courage and walked up to the boy.
“My friends and I weren’t very nice to you,” he said, “I’m sorry. I wish I hadn’t done that.”
The boy didn’t say anything at first. Then he smiled a little. “It’s OK.”
Ethan couldn’t tell if the smile was real or if the boy’s feelings were still hurt. But he didn’t know what else to say.
One Sunday, Ethan’s ward boundaries changed. He was surprised when the boy from the playground walked through the church doors, and he was thankful that he’d already apologized. Otherwise, he would have felt embarrassed when the boy saw him sitting in church, learning to be like Jesus.
“Hi,” Ethan said. “What’s your name?”
“Matt,” the boy said.
“Are you going to Scouts this Wednesday?” Ethan asked.
Matt said he was.
At Scouts that week, the boys were learning to fish. Ethan watched as Matt struggled with the fishing pole. He could hold the rod, but he had a hard time casting the line.
“Would you like me to cast it for you?” Ethan asked.
“OK,” Matt said.
Ethan cast Matt’s fishing line into the pond. He handed Matt the pole and reached for his own. “Can I fish here too?” Ethan asked.
“Sure,” Matt said.
Ethan was surprised how easy it was to talk to Matt as they fished.
“See you Sunday,” Ethan said when Scouts was over.
“Yeah, see you.” This time Matt grinned so big that Ethan didn’t have to wonder. He could tell that his new friend’s smile was real.

From a missionary I received an unforgettable letter. He wrote: “I still am not certain why it was that I was [afflicted] with [cancer], particularly during the time I was serving the Lord on a mission, but I can say with all honesty and sincerity that I am eternally grateful to our gracious Heavenly Father for allowing me to have that experience. … Not a day goes by,” he continued, “that I don’t think about the days I spent lying in the hospital suffering through chemotherapy or grimacing with the pain from another operation. … Not a day passes when I don’t think of the days I spent studying the scriptures, particularly the Book of Mormon, and remembering the overwhelming feelings of comfort and peace which I felt. I often think of the nights when I would retire to bed and pour out my soul to my Heavenly Father and thank Him for preserving my life.” Then the elder shared this wonderful news: “I returned to the doctor this week … and … he found no evidence of any disease in my body.” I love such faithful missionaries!

After I came home from my mission, I suddenly had a new life to face. I had to find my way in school, navigate new friendships, attempt to date, and figure out new work schedules.
It was unfamiliar and uncomfortable.
I wanted to turn to the Lord for reassurance. I had a firm testimony that the Book of Mormon was the word of God, but I found myself feeling distant when I tried to read my scriptures. I felt like I was unable to access the peace and comfort I usually felt while reading the Book of Mormon.
I was facing a lot of big feelings, and when I tried to read my scriptures, I wanted big answers. But those answers just didn’t seem to be coming.
My feelings of discontent grew to the point where I struggled to open my scriptures at all.
As I pondered on the preservation of the Book of Mormon, I was struck by the marvelous truth that the wise purpose behind its writing includes me. Heavenly Father knew how much I would need the Book of Mormon in my life. In fact, He knew the challenges each of His children would face in mortality, and in a grand expression of love, He provided us with the scriptures to lead us, guide us, and comfort us.
So why was I not feeling comforted?
One week as I attended my church meetings, I prayed to learn something that would help me. The impression I received at church that day prepared me to hear Heavenly Father’s voice.
As I sat and listened, I was reminded of a truth I had forgotten. I wrote in my journal: “One way to work through frustration when you feel like you aren’t receiving answers is spiritual consistency. It is the daily moments of spiritual consistency that allow God to create patterns, point out subtle feelings, and convey simple but powerful, comforting truths. It’s the consistency that turns our heart to Him, that aligns our will with His.”
In that moment, I remembered the principle that Alma taught his son while instructing him to keep a record:
“Now ye may suppose that this is foolishness in me; but behold I say unto you, that by small and simple things are great things brought to pass; and small means in many instances doth confound the wise.
“And the Lord God doth work by means to bring about his great and eternal purposes; and by very small means the Lord doth confound the wise and bringeth about the salvation of many souls” (Alma 37:6–7).
These verses and the revelation I received in church that day helped me reframe my expectations for my scripture study. Instead of looking for big spiritual experiences when I somewhat sporadically read my scriptures, I began to focus on creating simple moments to connect with the Lord daily through scripture study.
By taking the pressure off, I felt a simple, sweet spirit begin to fill my life. It was small and subtle, but I was able to see that Heavenly Father truly can convey great, meaningful messages in small and simple ways. And being spiritually consistent in my scripture study helped me develop my ability to recognize those messages.

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).