Gospel Story Finder

Mom and Dad had been using the computer for a long time. “What are you doing?” Kacie asked.
Mom lifted Kacie onto her lap. “We’re reading about an earthquake that happened in another country.”
Kacie looked at the pictures. Many of them showed children dressed in torn, dirty clothes or T-shirts that didn’t fit. “Everyone looks so sad,” she said.
“That’s because they lost everything,” Dad said. “Many of their homes were destroyed in the earthquake, and they lost most of their food, clothes, and toys.”
“It makes you grateful that we’re blessed with what we need, doesn’t it?” Mom asked.
Kacie thought about all the toys in her room. “Would they be happier if I gave them some of my toys?” she asked.
Mom hugged her tight. “That’s sweet of you, Kacie, but toys won’t keep them warm. What they really need are clothes.”
Kacie thought about it. The children in the pictures looked so sad. How could she help?
She and Mom talked about it over the next few days. Kacie’s birthday was coming up, and Mom suggested that Kacie could collect clothes instead of presents at her party. Kacie loved the idea. She wanted to get 100 dresses to send to the children.
With Mom’s help, Kacie made invitations. She wanted to have a princess party. The guests would dress up, play games, and eat princess cake. Kacie helped Mom take the invitations to the girls in her Primary class. She also asked Mom to send invitations to friends and family who lived far away so they could mail donations.
Kacie and her guests had a lot of fun at the party, but more importantly, they collected more than 100 dresses. Many people responded to Mom’s letters, and before long, Kacie had collected more than 300 dresses and other donations.
Kacie had a fun birthday, and she couldn’t wait to send presents to other princesses far away.

The Aaronic Priesthood is a very real power. One young man wrote this of his experience in exercising this power:
“At one time I attended a ward which had almost no Melchizedek Priesthood holders in it. But it was not in any way dulled in spirituality. On the contrary, many of its members witnessed the greatest display of priesthood power they had ever known.
“The power was centered in the priests. For the first time in their lives they were called upon to perform all the duties of the priests and administer to the needs of their fellow ward members. They were seriously called to home teach—not just to be a yawning appendage to an elder making a social call but to bless their brothers and sisters.
“Previous to this time I had been with four of these priests in a different situation. … They drove away every seminary teacher after two or three months. They spread havoc over the countryside on Scouting trips. But when they were needed—when they were trusted with a vital mission—they were among those who shone the most brilliantly in priesthood service.
“The secret was that the bishop called upon his Aaronic Priesthood to rise to the stature of men to whom angels might well appear; and they rose to that stature, administering relief to those who might be in want and strengthening those who needed strengthening. Not only were the other ward members built up but so were the members of the quorum themselves. A great unity spread throughout the ward and every member began to have a taste of what it is for a people to be of one mind and one heart. There was nothing inexplicable in all of this; it was just the proper exercise of the Aaronic Priesthood.”

I have learned, as I have mentioned in previous messages, never to postpone a prompting. On one occasion many years ago, I was swimming laps at the old Deseret Gym in Salt Lake City when I felt the inspiration to go to the University Hospital to visit a good friend of mine who had lost the use of his lower limbs because of a malignancy and the surgery which followed. I immediately left the pool, dressed, and was soon on my way to see this good man.
When I arrived at his room, I found that it was empty. Upon inquiry I learned I would probably find him in the swimming pool area of the hospital, an area which was used for physical therapy. Such turned out to be the case. He had guided himself there in his wheelchair and was the only occupant of the room. He was on the far side of the pool, near the deep end. I called to him, and he maneuvered his wheelchair over to greet me. We had an enjoyable visit, and I accompanied him back to his hospital room, where I gave him a blessing.
I learned later from my friend that he had been utterly despondent that day and had been contemplating taking his own life. He had prayed for relief but began to feel that his prayers had gone unanswered. He went to the pool with the thought that this would be a way to end his misery—by guiding his wheelchair into the deep end of the pool. I had arrived at a critical moment, in response to what I know was inspiration from on high.
My friend was able to live many more years—years filled with happiness and gratitude. How pleased I am to have been an instrument in the Lord’s hands on that critical day at the swimming pool.

The two towns that these five youth live in are more than 100 watery miles apart, which is the equivalent of running around a high school track 400 times—a little too far to travel each Sunday. But endless miles can’t keep the youth from sticking together. They recently had the chance to meet each other for the first time face-to-face. The youth, along with their parents, flew to Anchorage to perform baptisms for the dead in the Anchorage Alaska Temple. They had never been to the temple before, so it was a great experience for them. “It was fun to introduce ourselves and see who it was we’ve been talking to over the phone,” says 14-year-old Harrison.
As they drove into the parking lot of the temple, each felt the Spirit strongly and knew that the temple was the Lord’s house. “I can’t believe I’m actually here,” says Jaenell as she recalls her experience. “I felt a subtle, peaceful feeling of absolute contentment and happiness.”
The best part of the weekend trip was performing baptisms and confirmations for the dead in the temple. “We helped those people who couldn’t help themselves,” Zach says. He enjoyed looking at the names and dates of each person for whom he was baptized.
“I could feel the Spirit, and it felt very peaceful,” Jennifer says.
“When we were in the waiting room, I read an article by President Monson in the Ensign about the bridges Christ has built,” says Jaenell. “It really made me appreciate the things that the Savior has done, because we can’t build the bridges by ourselves.”
The trip strengthened each person’s testimony of Jesus Christ, a testimony that helps them in their everyday lives. Although they’re miles apart from each other, they’re only a phone call away.

Tracy Nelson of Idaho Falls, Idaho, excels in welding techniques. In high school he took first place in state competition and went on to place second in a national welding competition.
Tracy chose to attend Ricks College because of its outstanding Welding Engineering Technology program. He competed and took top honors in a college welding competition.
He said of his experiences in school, “At Ricks I have trained under instructors who have given me new ideas and trained me in new techniques. It is great to be a part of Ricks College. Here I find myself growing mentally, physically, and spiritually. It is helping me prepare for my mission.”
Tracy is now serving a mission.

I read the story “Getting the Best of the Bully” (March 2010), and it has improved my life a lot. I was in a situation similar to the kid in the story, and every day I dreaded going to school, but I went anyway. I started being nicer to the bully, and the day after I started acting nicer, he did the same. He even stood up for me when somebody accused me of doing something I did not do.
Spencer H., Arizona

Many years ago I heard a story that impressed me. I share it with you today as I endeavor for a few minutes to direct your thinking toward the important word peace. A beautiful little blind girl was sitting on the lap of her father in a crowded compartment in a train. A friend seated nearby said to the father, “Let me give you a little rest,” and he reached over and took the little girl on his lap.
A few moments later the father said to her, “Do you know who is holding you?”
“No,” she replied, “but you do.”
Some might be inclined to say, “What a perfect trust this child had in her father.” Others may say, “What a wonderful example of love.” And still others might say, “What an example of faith.” To me it indicates a beautiful blending of all of these principles, which brought a priceless inner peace to the child. She knew she was safe because she knew her father knew who was holding her. Affection, respect, and care over the years had placed in this little girl’s heart a peace that surpasseth all understanding. She was at peace because she knew and trusted her father.
We plead for peace in our prayers and thoughts. Where is peace? Can we ever enjoy this great gift while wars, rumors of wars, discord, evil, and contention swirl all around us? The answer is yes. Just as the little blind girl sat on the stranger’s lap with perfect contentment because her father knew him, so we can learn to know our Father and find inner peace as we live his principles.
It is very significant that when Jesus came forth from the tomb and appeared to his disciples, his first greeting was, “Peace be unto you.” (Luke 24:36.) Peace—not passion, not personal possessions, not personal accomplishments nor happiness—is one of the greatest blessings a man can receive. Our trust and our relationship with our Heavenly Father should be one similar to that of the little blind girl and her earthly father. When sorrow, tragedy, and heartbreaks occur in our lives, wouldn’t it be comforting if when the whisperings of God say, “Do you know why this has happened to you?” we could have the peace of mind to answer “No, but you do.”
Just as the little girl could sit peacefully on the stranger’s lap because her father knew him, so we can find peace if we know our Father and learn to live by his principles.

Years ago, while serving my mission, my companion and I had just finished a teaching visit. As we walked away, trying to get to our next appointment, he turned to me and asked a profound question. He was reflecting on Nephi’s encounter with the Spirit of the Lord in 1 Nephi 14:10, where Nephi learns about the two churches: the church of the Lamb of God and the church of the devil. My companion asked, “Why is the other church referred to as the church of the devil?”
His question really made me think. After several attempts to answer his question, he responded to his question by saying: “Because they do not perform saving ordinances.”
His response stirred something within me, prompting me to deeply ponder the importance of the true Church being restored in these latter days. I reflected on the significance of the Restoration of the gospel and the Church of Jesus Christ through the Prophet Joseph Smith. This Restoration brought back not just the fullness of the gospel but also the authority to perform saving ordinances.
I testify of the Lord’s own words, recorded in section 1 of the Doctrine and Covenants, that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is “the only true and living church upon the face of the whole earth” (verse 30). I know it is the Church of the Lamb of God. I know the Book of Mormon is the word of God, and it has drawn me closer to my Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. I feel Their love in my life, and I know that They desire for me, and for all of us, to return to live with Them after this life.
I am deeply grateful for the knowledge that we belong to the Church of the Lamb of God, and I bear testimony that this is the Lord’s true Church on the earth today.

When he recalls the rigorous years he spent at Harvard Business School, Elder Robert D. Hales of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles says of his graduate program, “I was stretched to my capacity.”
About this time Elder Hales received a call to be elders quorum president. He was concerned about the added pressure such a call would create on his schedule. “It was one of the few times in my life I didn’t say yes on the spot,” he explains. “I went home to my wife and said, ‘I will probably fail in school if I accept this calling.’”
Sister Hales responded, “Bob, I would rather have an active priesthood holder than a man who holds a master’s degree from Harvard.” She then put her arms around him and added, “Together we will do both of them.”
They knelt in prayer and then went to work. The ensuing months were difficult, but they managed to “do both of them.”

Of course, paying fast offerings is not always easy. Like other financial contributions to the Church, it can be a test of our faithfulness. One brother related the following experience:
“I was a student at Oxford University in England and was preparing to fly home to the United States. I only had a little money and needed to do three things: pay my fast offering and budget, buy a trunk for my things, and pay for transportation to the airport. I only had enough money for two of these. I had decided to wait and pay fast offerings and budget later, but while I was in church I felt inspired to go ahead and pay them—which I did. Afterwards I was left with enough money for either the trunk or transportation to the airport, but not both. Later, as I was walking down the street, I noticed a man carrying a trunk. I asked him about it, and he told me he was about to throw it away. After we talked for a minute he gave me the trunk—my problem was solved. To me, that was a direct blessing for paying my fast offerings and budget.”

I remember many times, it seemed like almost every week, that four little towheaded boys would stand with their faces against the windowpane or against the screen door and wave goodbye to their mother and dad as they would get in the car and go to the temple in Mesa.
We didn’t know much about the temple, and we didn’t know much about what went on in the temple, but we had been taught without any reservation that Mother and Dad loved us and that they would do anything for us. So, as we stood there and watched them go, we knew that something important must go on in that temple, to have these two people who loved us more than anything leave us as often as they did to go there. We gained an understanding in those tender years of the importance of the temple.

Elder Soares: I met Sister Soares at a church dance six months after I had returned from my mission. She had also just recently returned from a mission.
Sister Soares: I could see you look at me, and something began to stir within me too. And as soon as the music stopped, you came over and asked me to dance.
Elder Soares: We continued as friends, but it was that night when our eyes were opened. We each saw a faithful young Latter-day Saint and the potential for a relationship. And two weeks later we began to date. That was 41 years ago.

This story happened in the USA.
Anders listened to his sister read during family scripture study. He tried to follow along on his tablet. But it was hard to focus on the words.
Anders always had a hard time reading. Last year, he found out he had dyslexia. Dyslexia was a learning disability that made it difficult to read. His brain mixed up words and letters, and his eyes jumped across the page when he tried to read.
His sister finished reading her verse, and his brother read the next one. But Anders didn’t read. He didn’t like reading out loud. Making the words big on his tablet helped a little. But he hated how slow and awkward his reading was. He made so many mistakes! He had to work so hard for something that seemed easy for everyone else.
When they finished reading, Anders’s family watched a video. It was about the Children and Youth program.
“Set personal goals that challenge and stretch you,” Elder Gong said in the video. “Discover new talents, interests, and skills.”*
Anders thought about the goals he could set. Maybe he could learn how to bake cookies. Or play soccer better!
Then he looked at the Book of Mormon on the table. Getting better at reading didn’t sound like a very fun goal. But he wanted to be able to read scriptures with his family.
“I know what I want my goal to be,” he told Dad.
“What is it?” Dad asked.
Anders picked up the Book of Mormon. “I want to read a verse of the Book of Mormon out loud every day.”
“That sounds like a great goal,” Dad said. “When do you want to start?”
“Right now!”
Anders went to his room and closed the door. He didn’t want anyone to hear him. Then he opened his Book of Mormon. He mixed up some of the words, but it only took him a minute to finish the first verse. That wasn’t too bad, he thought.
Anders read a scripture every day. It was hard! He didn’t feel like he was getting better, either. But he kept working at it.
Then one day at school, his teacher said, “Wow! I can’t believe how fast you are learning.”
Anders looked up from his homework. “Really?”
She nodded. “You’re improving so much.”
Anders looked down at the words on his paper. They were way easier to read than they had been before. His goal to practice reading the scriptures was even helping him learn at school.
When he came home, he ran upstairs to read his scriptures. When he looked at the page, the words still spun around. But it was easier to figure out what they said.
Anders was excited for family scripture study that night.
“Hey, Dad,” he said. “Can I help read today?”
Dad grinned. “I’d love that!”
Anders followed along carefully as his brothers and sisters each read a verse. When it was his turn, he read the verse slowly to make sure he got every word right. After he finished reading, he looked up. Everyone was smiling at him.
Even though he wasn’t a perfect reader, Anders felt proud of himself. He knew that when he worked hard, Heavenly Father would always be there to help him.
Illustrations by Kelly Smith

Years ago our wonderful home teacher Mike noticed that my three children and I only had a small laptop to watch general conference on. He immediately invited us to come over to his house to watch with him and his wife, Jackie, insisting they would love the company. My kids were thrilled to watch conference on a real TV; I greatly appreciated having the support; and we all loved our time together.

After that, watching general conference together was a tradition. Even when we got a TV of our own, we still happily headed over to Mike and Jackie’s with our pillows, notebooks, and snacks for general conference. Hearing the words of the prophets together made it more special. We became like family. Mike and Jackie became some of my best friends and second grandparents to my kids. Their love and friendship have been an incredible blessing to my family. I’m so grateful for their willingness to open their home and their hearts to us.

Suzanne Erd, California, USA

By Mckenzi Ham
Growing up, I never felt any pressure to serve a mission. When I got to college, though, all of that changed. Suddenly I was in a whirlwind of young men and women whose entire futures revolved around serving a mission. Rather than a question of if, serving a mission became a when—even for me.
I wanted a mission to be right for me. I prayed. I talked to my bishop. I counseled with my parents. I read my scriptures. I received a father’s blessing. But I continued to feel anxious and overwhelmed about serving a mission. It wasn’t until I finally made the decision not to serve a mission that I found the peaceful feeling I had been searching for.
I had to just ignore all the voices and opinions around me trying to tell me what was best for me. The decision to serve or not was between me and Heavenly Father. Prayer was my greatest help in keeping the pressure off. As I turned to Him, all those voices seemed to fade away. Initially, I thought that my parents were pressuring me to serve, but when I really opened up and counseled with them, I realized that their love for me would always come first. They became one of my greatest supports.
At first, I absolutely felt judged for not serving a mission. But then I realized that a lot of that judgment was self-inflicted. As I prayed for peace and learned to be patient with myself, those insecurities slowly—so, so, so slowly—began to disappear. As I drew closer to Heavenly Father, I began to understand who I am and how much I’m worth in His eyes.
God put a lot of people in my path to help me grow. I started working and became really close with my coworkers. Most of them were a few years younger than me and were going through hard stuff at school and at home. I was able to be a friend to them, help them understand how much they mattered, and even uplift them spiritually. Even though I didn’t think I was doing much at the time—giving rides home, bringing treats to share—I see now how serving and loving them healed me spiritually.
The specifics of what Heavenly Father wanted me to do were fuzzy at first. But I knew that He loves me and wants me to be happy—to find joy and peace in life. I struggled for months with my decision because I didn’t want to decide. I wanted God to tell me what to do. But He loves me enough to let me choose for myself. To serve as a full-time missionary or continue serving right where I was were both righteous choices. Peace came after I prayerfully made my decision and presented it to Him.
The temple became my greatest source of comfort and peace. Eventually I even received my endowment. My temple experience brought me closer to my Savior and helped me to understand my divine self-worth. My temple covenants have blessed my life and made me feel His love even more. Ever since I received my endowment, I haven’t had any insecurities or felt any pressure about not having served a full-time mission.

Perhaps his thoughts turned to his good friend Porter Rockwell, now 30, who at the last account was still languishing in the Missouri prison where he had been for seven months. Because Porter was being illegally held, it did not seem likely that efforts on the part of the Saints in Illinois would secure his release.
Apparently the 38-year-old Prophet, who had a reputation for hospitality, spent the remainder of the day with his family and associates. That evening a large group also dined at the Prophet’s house before turning to music, dancing, and other festivities in the tradition of Christmas in that day.
Latecoming guests, dressed in their best, arrived during the evening hours on that Monday. The troubles of the Saints, past and present, were temporarily forgotten as the guests enjoyed the festivities. Then the spirit of the evening was disrupted when a gaunt, seemingly drunk, unwashed Missourian, straggly and unkempt hair brushing his shoulders, forced his way into the room.
Efforts were made to throw the ruffian out, but he was too powerful. In the ensuing struggle, Joseph had a good look at the man. It was his friend, Porter!
The atmosphere cleared as friends gathered around Rockwell and welcomed him home. He explained how he had been honorably released after seven months in prison and had worked his way home through hostile territory. Because his feet were injured and men were seeking his life, it had taken him 12 days. He had just arrived in Nauvoo. The trick he’d played on the Prophet and his guests was merely his idea of fun.
Rockwell’s safe return climaxed the day for Joseph on his last Christmas, the Christmas before the summer guns at Carthage.

Janetta pulled the quilt close around her shoulders and shuddered. Even with its comfort and the warmth from the fire, she felt cold.
“Janna!” her little brother wailed from the lean-to. “I had a bad dream!”
“Come here,” she called softly, holding out her arms. He climbed onto her lap and snuggled down to sleep again. Soon the warmth from his small body flowed into hers and they were both warm.
James whimpered in his sleep, and she rocked him gently. His nightmares had begun this last year. It had been a year especially full of things that could disturb a three year old.
She looked away from their fire across the mighty Mississippi to Nauvoo, where she could see the distant flicker of fires that surrounded the temple where men were still working.
That was “her” temple. She felt a pride in it because she had helped build it. With her mother, she had cooked food and made clothes for the families of those who worked on the temple.
That was how she’d met her best friend, Sarah. One day when Janetta was delivering supper to some workers, she ran right into a girl her own age and knocked her down. When the girl got up, she put her hands on her hips and said, “Well, this is a fine way to meet a new friend.” She grinned at Janetta, then stuck out her hand. “I’m Sarah, and I’m new to the city.”
Janetta shook her hand. “I’m Janetta, and I’ve been here since the beginning.”
It was a great friendship. They giggled together as they spun wool, carded it, and knit through the long winter days. They were proud that men working on the Lord’s temple wore their socks.
Janetta looked again at the flickering lights and felt sadness creep in. Her father had left before the temple walls were up. Their family had never had the opportunity to go inside to be sealed together as a family.
The worst of the trouble had started the summer before, when the Prophet Joseph was killed. Everyone was numb from the tragedy. It was as if a cloud of darkness covered their beautiful city—only there weren’t any clouds.
With tears streaming down their cheeks, Sarah and Janetta had stood hand in hand as the bodies of the Prophet and his brother Hyrum passed by in a wagon coming from Carthage. Later, after the bodies had been prepared at the Mansion House, her parents stood in line to view them.
As the sorrow lessened, some of the Saints became confused. Rumors circulated in the city that the Church was doomed. Some predicted that the temple would never be finished. Several men claimed to be the next leader of the Church.
Janetta was troubled by the confusion. “Father,” she asked one day, “what will happen now? Who will lead the Church?”
Her father took her in his strong arms and hugged her. “This Church was true while Joseph lived, and it’s true now that he’s dead. It’s the Savior’s Church, and He’ll provide a leader for us. We’ll listen to the Brethren and follow what they say. There’s a meeting in the grove tomorrow, and Brother Brigham will tell us what’s right.”
The next day the Saints eagerly gathered at the grove. The first speaker was Sidney Rigdon. Janetta listened very carefully, for he claimed to be the proper leader of the Church. He talked on and on. The more he talked, the more she fidgeted and the worse she felt. She looked over at Sarah and caught her eye. When Sarah winked at Janetta, they both tried hard not to giggle,
Finally Sidney Rigdon sat down and Brigham Young closed the meeting. He announced another meeting under the direction of the Apostles at two o’clock.
Janetta and her parents hurried home and put James down for a nap. Leaving a neighbor to watch him, the three hurried back to the second meeting. Even though they were early, the only seats left were way in the back. Janetta was too short to see over people, but she could still hear the speakers.
Brigham Young stood up and began to speak. Hearing him, she felt a peace fill her. Then suddenly she jumped up and craned to see over the heads of the people in front of her. She thought she had heard the Prophet Joseph!
A blind man sitting beside her jumped up too. “That’s Joseph speaking to us. Surely he’s not dead!”
The extraordinary effect lasted only for seconds, but the people knew that Brigham Young had been chosen to lead the Church. They all listened very carefully to every word that he said.
When the meeting was over, Janetta hurried to find Sarah. “Did you hear him?” she asked excitedly. “He sounded just like the Prophet.”
“I not only heard him,” Sarah answered softly, “I saw him. It was like Brother Joseph was standing right there before us.”
The girls were silent for a moment as they reverently thought of what they’d just witnessed.
“I’ll never forget this,” Janetta whispered. “Brother Young is our prophet now. We can safely do everything he tells us to do.”
Soon after that memorable meeting, her father’s name was read as one of the missionaries called to go on a mission. Afterward the family wept together. They were proud that he was worthy to be called, but sad that he was leaving.
Then one crisp autumn morning Janetta kissed her father good-bye. They parted not knowing when or where they’d meet again. But they all knew that the Lord would protect them and reunite them, if not in this life then in the next.
“Janetta,” her mother said now, interrupting her thoughts, “I’m home. Let me take James and put him back to bed. You must be exhausted. Go to sleep.”
Janetta smiled at her mother. Here they were, camped on the bank of the river, with no roof over their heads, and yet her mother called it home. “Did Sister Brown have her baby?”
“Yes, a fine boy,” Mother answered happily. She warmed her hands by the fire. “I think he’ll be all right, even if he was born in the middle of the wide open spaces.” She turned to her daughter. “Go get some rest. We’ll be leaving early in the morning.”
“I can’t sleep,” Janetta answered sadly. “I keep thinking about our old home. I wonder who’s sleeping all warm and cozy in my bed.”
“I loved that house, too,” her mother answered softly. “Your father built it carefully to shelter us and make us happy. But we’ll be better off far away from the mobs, where we can be safe.”
Janetta continued to stare into the dying flames of the fire. Sleep and comfort seemed far-off.
Her mother rummaged around in their bags for their treasured copy of the Book of Mormon. She began softly to read aloud. At first Janetta only listened to her voice, not to the words. Then the words began to sink in. They told of Lehi and his family, who had left all their worldly goods in Jerusalem and fled into the wilderness.
Mother stopped reading. “It seems we’re in good company,” she said and smiled at her daughter. “We’re not the only ones of the Lord’s people who have had to leave their homes.”
Janetta smiled back, feeling the comfort she needed. Together they left the fire and went to their beds. She said her prayers and snuggled into the bed. She knew that the Saints were doing the will of God. She’d had that witness that they were being led by a prophet. It brought her peace.

Bit by bit, and blissfully unaware, I was poisoning myself. OK, I use the term “poisoning” a bit loosely here, but to a teenage guy in high school, the word seemed appropriate. I had turned my skin orange.
Without realizing it.
You see, I was trying to kick a soda habit and did so by rather unconventional means. I started drinking freshly-made carrot juice. My dad had bought a juicer that extracted nothing but juice—which means you cruise through plenty more carrots that way (and consume a lot of beta-carotene).
Fun fact: beta-carotene, at those levels, enters the bloodstream and starts painting you from the inside out. It’s harmless to your overall health but becomes oh-so-visible over time. Somehow, though, I still hadn’t noticed the effects unfolding until a friend squinted at me in the sunlight one afternoon.
“Um, Dave, is your skin … orange?” she asked.
“No!” I laughed. What an absurd question.
Then she held her forearm next to mine for comparison. I glanced down in shock. My skin looked like it was slathered in pumpkin puree compared to hers. From that moment on, I cut way back on the carrot juice.
Back to my beta-carotene fiasco for a moment. In the end, I swapped in some celery sticks and apple slices to replace most of the carrots in my not-quite-as-good-as-soda beverage. And, in time, my skin returned to its normal hue. Whew! Though it was a huge relief at the time, that particular snag was a small one in the grand scheme of eternal matters.

Just as she had felt, Florence found that Christopher Chukwurah shared her hunger for spiritual things. Together they investigated a number of churches, fasting and praying together regularly.

Christopher also shared her desire for education. He had a bachelor’s degree in political science and information sciences, and shortly after he and Florence married, they left Nigeria for the United States. Christopher earned a master’s degree in educational administration from Illinois State University. Florence studied psychology part-time and worked in several hospitals.

They returned to Nigeria in 1977, still uncommitted to any one religion. By 1981, they were weary of moving from church to church.

Over the years, the Chukwurahs had developed the tradition of holding a special family fast on the last day of each year. On New Year’s Eve, 31 December 1981, the purpose of their fast was to seek guidance in finding a church they could remain in throughout their lives.

Just nine days later, Florence was preparing a meal in the kitchen and Christopher was preparing a lecture for a college class when both received an impression in answer to their prayers. “I had this persistent feeling that we should visit a family friend of ours. When I told my husband, he said, ‘I have the same feeling. Can we go right now?’”

When they arrived at the home of their friend, they were surprised when he offered them a soft drink instead of the more usual beer. He explained that because he and his wife now belonged to a church called The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, they no longer drank alcohol or smoked.

“My husband and I looked at each other,” recalls Sister Chukwurah. “We love each other so dearly that we can speak with our eyes. After looking into each other’s eyes, we immediately asked, ‘How can we become members of this church?’”

After receiving the missionary discussions, the Chukwurahs were baptized in February 1982.

Imagine this scenario: Your friend hasn’t been herself lately. Usually she’s upbeat and fun, but now she doesn’t want to do things that she used to have fun doing. You were surprised when she decided to stay home rather than go to a dance last Saturday. Every time you see her now she seems sad, withdrawn, and irritable. And this has been going on for a while.
As you think about it, you realize your friend was always a good student, but last week she didn’t turn in her history paper for the third time in a row. It’s like she’s lost her motivation. She says she feels tired all the time but can’t fall asleep at night and mentions how she always feels sad but doesn’t know why. She’s been this way for a while, and you’re worried she might be depressed.