Gospel Story Finder

Study the words of President David O. McKay, who tells of how, in his youth, he knelt and “prayed fervently and sincerely and with as much faith as a young boy could muster” that “God would declare to [him] the truth of his revelation to Joseph Smith.”
President McKay related that when he arose from his knees, he had to admit that “no spiritual manifestation has come to me. If I am true to myself, I must say that I am just the same [boy] that I was before I prayed.”
I don’t know how young David felt in his heart at that time, but I’m sure he must have been disappointed—perhaps frustrated that he didn’t receive the spiritual experience that he had hoped for. But that didn’t discourage him from continuing his search for that knowledge.
The answer to his prayers did come, but not until years later, when he was serving as a missionary. Why was the answer to his prayer so long delayed? President McKay believed that this spiritual manifestation “came as a natural sequence to the performance of duty.”

He had no trouble getting up. The alarm would go off, and Chris Muraski was wide awake. Things to do, you know.
No, getting up was never the problem. Being where he was supposed to be was.
Here’s the scoop. At 5:30 A.M., Chris would get dressed, grab a banana, head out the door, and go straight for a couple of blocks. He then had a choice. He could continue driving for another block until he arrived at Libertyville High School in this Chicago suburb. Or he could hang a left and go to Libertyville’s civic center for early-morning seminary.
For two years Chris never used his turn signal on that morning drive.
As a freshman he attended seminary. He even went for part of his sophomore year.
But come on. He was an outside linebacker and he wanted to get stronger. Early-morning weight lifting—extra work on his own—would make him a better player. It was something he had to do.
Midway through that second year of high school, Chris decided he’d skip early-morning seminary even if it would make him a better person.
During the two years he was in the weight room, Chris got stronger and became a solid high school football player, playing for a very good team. The weight lifting was paying off. Unfortunately, injuries began occurring—more specifically, concussions.
“It’s ironic because that’s when the concussions started—when I stopped going to seminary,” he says.
The concussions, bruisings of the brain due to hard hits, were a bit scary because of both pain and memory loss.
The first concussion came during Chris’s sophomore year. He took a hit to the head that forced him to sit out the second half of a game. “It was like waking up from a dream. I couldn’t remember the plays before. I couldn’t remember where I was supposed to go. It took me 10 minutes to pull it all together,” he remembers. “I wanted to go back in during the fourth quarter but the coaches wouldn’t let me.”
Then during the second game of his junior season in 1997, after being cleared to play, Chris took another hit to the head and the result was another concussion. This time it was a bit more serious. It was a kickoff return, and Chris came in for the tackle. Much of that play is a foggy memory, but he does remember this vital statistic: the guy that leveled Chris was six-foot-six and 250 pounds.
“The guy that hit me was huge. I just went full blast into him, and that pretty much ended my season right there,” he says.
It’s worth mentioning that despite the extra work in the weight room, Chris only tipped the scales at a lean 152 that year. It was hardly a fair fight.
After sitting out much of the season on doctors’ orders, Chris played in one more game, then sustained a third concussion in practice. “That was it. I didn’t know if I would even be able to play the next year. The doctors were concerned, and I didn’t want to mess up my brain,” Chris says. “I didn’t feel very confident that I’d be fine, that I wouldn’t have any more problems.”
Chris, at the time a priest in the Buffalo Grove Second Ward, Buffalo Grove Stake, thought often about his love for football. Would he ever play again? Would there be any long-term effects from the blows to the head? These were all questions a high school junior didn’t want to face.
That summer Chris’s bishop approached him. He didn’t want to talk about football. Instead he asked him, “So, Chris, how’s seminary coming?”
But the bishop already knew the answer. When he asked Chris if he would start attending again, Chris said, “No, probably not.” The weight lifting was still too important. At least that’s what he thought.
“I was still active. I was going to church every week. I wasn’t in the gutter,” he explains. “But I wasn’t doing all the little extra things.”
Like going to seminary.
Chris began thinking about his choices, about seminary, about his future. And it wasn’t like he disliked seminary the one year he did regularly attend.
Later the bishop approached Chris again. He had something important to tell him. Chris said that the bishop talked to him and promised him that if he would go to seminary, the Lord would bless him and he wouldn’t have problems with concussions. But Chris needed to aim for 100 percent attendance.
“When he said what he said, I thought, I’ll do it. So I put my faith in what the bishop promised me right there.”
On the first day of seminary to begin the 1997–98 school year, there sat Chris Muraski.
He’d finally made the left turn.
Chris missed exactly one day of seminary last year—because of a conflict with wrestling. But he made that day up. He also didn’t miss one football game during a year when he was one of Libertyville’s team captains. Last summer he earned a spot on an Illinois all-star team that traveled to Australia.
And he never came close to getting another concussion.
“I regret putting lifting in front of seminary,” he says now. “Every morning I was at seminary I felt I was in the right spot, and I got that spiritual flavor that kind of gives you that boost. I feel more spiritual. My testimony has grown from it, from striving to be better.”
Once upon a time Chris was bench pressing 240 pounds. Today it’s down to 200.
Yeah, he may have lost 40 pounds off his bench press, but after returning to seminary, Chris was still plenty strong.

“… The call during the day or the knock at the door at night always comes as a surprise. Someone will say, ‘Please, could you come quickly?’ Once, years ago, it was a father calling from a hospital. His three-year-old daughter had been thrown 50 feet (15m) by a speeding car as she ran across the street to join her mother. When I arrived at the hospital, the father pled that the power of the priesthood would preserve her life. The doctors and the nurses only reluctantly let us reach through a plastic barrier to place a drop of oil on the one opening in the heavy bandages which covered her head. A doctor said to me, with irritation in his voice, ‘Hurry with whatever you are going to do. She is dying.’
“He was wrong. She lived, and contrary to what the doctor had said, she not only lived, but she learned to walk again.
“When the call came I was ready. The preparation was far more than having consecrated oil close at hand. It must begin long before the crisis which requires priesthood power. Those who are prepared will be ready to answer.”

Two years into his work at Exxon Chemical Co. in Houston, Texas, USA, Elder Steven D. Shumway learned that his parents had been called to preside over a mission in Bolivia and needed help with the family business in Arizona.
“I don’t want to put pressure on you to come back,” his father said to him. “But if you don’t come back, I worry about what will happen to the business.”
It was a difficult decision to make, said Elder Shumway.
He and his wife traveled five hours to the Dallas Texas Temple and spent the day there without receiving an answer. Afterward, they visited a bookstore and spotted the biography of President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), Go Forward with Faith.
“Both of us felt the Lord say, ‘You need to go forward with faith in my way, not in your way,’” Elder Shumway said. “And so we moved to Arizona, which has turned out to be one of the most significant and beautiful changes in our lives.”
One of the best things they have learned in their marriage, Elder Shumway said, is that “when you accept [the Lord’s] invitation, you prosper. You progress. Things are better than if you try to do things your way.”

When I was six years old I learned a valuable lesson. My father had traded his farm for an interest in a general merchandise store in Driggs, Idaho, and he was to be the store manager. Father had been managing the store just a short time when he received a bulk shipment of candy packed in wooden pails. One morning I went into the storeroom and found all the pails had been opened so that the candy cases in the front of the store could be filled.
All that luscious-looking candy was such a temptation that I helped myself to several kinds and then filled my pockets. But to leave the store, I had to pass through the front part where my father was working. He spotted my bulging pockets and, putting his arm around my shoulder, took me into the back room and talked to me about the importance of being honest.
Then Father asked me to empty my pockets, explaining that he owned only half of the store and that whenever any member of his family took anything from the store it must be paid for. If things were just taken without being paid for, we would actually be stealing from his partners.

One day around Christmas, I was with my dad at the store. My favorite singer’s new album had just come out, and I begged him to buy it for me. Dad explained that he and Mom had already bought presents and didn’t have a lot of extra money to spend. Still, I was upset I couldn’t get the album.
When we reached the check-out line, I noticed a mother in front of us trying to buy some sparkly shoes for her little girl. She didn’t have enough money to pay for them, and she left looking very sad as her daughter began to cry.
When it was our turn to check out, I was surprised when Dad picked up the sparkly shoes and bought them. He ran to the parking lot to give them to the mother. Through her tears, she thanked him and said the shoes would be her daughter’s only Christmas present that year. She had prayed she might find a way to buy them.
The album suddenly didn’t seem so important to me. I was glad my dad followed the Spirit and helped someone else, even though it was a sacrifice. That day, I learned that giving is better than receiving.
Makenna L., Utah, USA

The way members live their beliefs can bring blessings into their own lives as well as into the lives of others. Karin Messell of Århus, who grew up in the Church, met her husband, Jesper, at work. When they were married in 2001, he was not a member. Jesper now counts his wife’s example as a great blessing in his life. Partly because of it, he was baptized in 2003, and they were sealed in the Copenhagen temple a little more than two months after its dedication in 2004.
Jesper has embraced the standards and values of the gospel, including the importance of the family. As a couple, the Messells have chosen to sacrifice material things so Karin can be at home when they have children. Jesper says, “We can choose: do we want a big house, or do we want Karin at home?”

Something was different about nine-year-old Heidi after school that cold afternoon. Instead of flinging her jacket when she walked in the door, she carefully hung it on the hook. Rather than pouncing at the refrigerator like a hungry tiger, she stared quietly out the window as if she were looking at something far beyond the border of the yard.
“Well, hi there!” Mom said, trying to get her attention.
Like a person awakened from a dream, Heidi looked at her mom and smiled. “Oh, how was your day, Mom?”
Mom wiped her hands on her apron and studied Heidi’s face. “My day was fine. How was yours?”
“Well … ,” Heidi began slowly, “it was … different.”
“I believe you. You seem to be light years away.”
“Well, maybe not that far. But as least as far as Arkansas.”
“Arkansas is a long way from California. What started you thinking about Arkansas?”
Mom cut an apple into four pieces and offered one to Heidi, who cradled it in her hand.
“There’s a new boy named Billy coming from Arkansas to join our class tomorrow. My teacher told us his parents were both in a car accident. His mother died, and his father is in a hospital and probably won’t survive, either. Billy was sent here to California to live with an uncle.” Heidi looked down at the apple she was holding. “Can you imagine being that boy, Mom?”
“No, but you’re really trying to, aren’t you?”
Heidi nodded. “I just wish there was something I could do for him. He’s going to feel really alone tomorrow.”
“I’m sure there are some things you can do to help. Let’s think of some.”
“I can smile at him.”
“Good idea.”
“I can show him around the school and tell him about our classroom routine.” Heidi put her chin on her hand and looked up at her mother. “But it isn’t enough. Isn’t there something special I can do?”
“Well, there is something special we can do for Billy. Something that just might be enough.”
“What?”
“You and I can fast and pray for him. We can ask Heavenly Father to bless him to feel at peace in his new home and at his new school. We can also pray for his father. What do you think about that?”
Heidi thought for a moment about fast Sundays. She had been taught that fasting would help her feel the Spirit, but she usually just felt hungry and grumpy. She hesitated, but then something inside let her know she would be OK. She smiled at her mother. “Let’s do it.”
Just then, Heidi’s 13-year-old brother, Chris, entered the kitchen. Hearing Heidi’s last sentence, he asked, “Do what?”
Mom briefly told Chris about Billy and explained their plan. Chris said, “I’ll fast with you.”
“Wow! Really?” Heidi asked.
“Yeah, sure,” he answered, reaching for some cookies. Stopping his hand just above the cookie jar, he asked, “When do we start?”
“After dinner,” Mom answered.
The next day, Heidi came home looking a little pale—but happy.
“Wow! I thought fasting on Sundays was hard! Try playing kick ball and watching everyone else eat lunch! But I think our fasting and prayers helped Billy.”
“Good! Tell me about it.”
“Well, when I smiled at him, he smiled back at me. The other kids were nice to him, and he made friends with a couple of boys by the end of the day.”
“That’s great,” Mom said.
“And then—it was weird,” Heidi added. “You know how some of the kids’ bad language has been bothering me lately?” Mom nodded, and Heidi continued, “Well, it was amazing, because I heard those same swear words, but for some reason, they couldn’t get inside my mind. It was as if my brain was protected all day from getting dirty! Neat, huh?”
“That’s wonderful, Heidi,” Mom said, smiling.
“I’m really tired, but I feel happy. I hope Billy feels as peaceful as I do right now.”
Mom gave her a little hug. “I have a feeling he does.”
When Chris came home, he flopped into the nearest chair and let his heavy backpack thud to the floor. He leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. “When do we eat?”
“Let’s finish our fast with a prayer. We’ll have dinner soon,” Mom suggested. “But first, tell me how your day went.”
“My body felt pretty weak, but I kept thinking of Billy, and that helped,” Chris said. “Missing a couple of meals isn’t so much if it helps him feel better.”
As the three of them knelt to say one more prayer for Billy, Mom put her arms around her children’s shoulders. Was it her imagination, or had her children both grown a little taller that day?

He informed his mother about his desire to get baptized and join the LDS Church, but she threatened to disown him if he ever did. All his relatives were against the idea of him joining the Church. Isaac had been admitted to study for his bachelor’s degree at Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology. Isaac told the Cape Coast missionaries of his plan to attend church at Kumasi without the knowledge of his family. Isaac had studied with them for a little over a year without getting the opportunity to attend church. While in Kumasi, he looked for the LDS Church but could not find it. A student colleague directed him to the LDS Church about a month later. Isaac again met with the Kumasi missionaries. They were impressed with his knowledge of the restored gospel, but this was no surprise, as he had been taught much by missionaries while in Cape Coast.
The missionaries fixed a baptismal interview date with Isaac. He agreed and got baptized on October 16, 2010. However, he kept all this from his family. Isaac had the privilege of performing a proxy baptism in the temple when he came to Accra for Christmas vacation. He shared his experience in the temple: “When I got to the temple, I felt so much about being different and I remember reading a talk in the waiting room by President Monson. ‘Dare to be a Mormon; Dare to stand alone. Dare to have a purpose firm; Dare to make it known’ (“Dare to Stand Alone,” Liahona, Nov. 2011, 61).” This impression compelled him to inform his mother about his newfound Church membership and the blessings he had acquired. Breaking the news, his mother was furious initially, but subsequently, she began to understand and accept his decision to be a Latter-day Saint. However, his extended family was unforgiving of his decision.

The Prophet Joseph Smith knew his life was in danger. Angry mobs had followed him everywhere, threatening his life and the lives of his family. Then in the fall of 1838 he had been arrested again in Far West, Missouri.
As he was tied and pushed into a canvas-covered wagon, he asked for the privilege of saying good-bye to his mother, Lucy Mack Smith, who tearfully watched him being taken away. The officers refused to let the Prophet out of the wagon, so he called out to his mother to come closer. Searching frantically, Joseph found a rip in the canvas and reached out to touch his mother’s hand for one last good-bye. Just touching her hand seemed to be important to him as the wagon quickly pulled away and Joseph Smith was taken to the Liberty Jail. There he was confined to a dark, crowded dungeon for six months.

President Charles W. Penrose used to tell the story of an officer on the Titanic who stated that there was no fear of “God, man or devil,” because the Titanic was built so solidly that it could readily withstand collision with other ships or contact with any other force, including icebergs. The Titanic was in fact three football fields in length, 12 stories high, and built of the finest steel. On that fateful night of April 14, 1912, other ships warned of ice ahead. Yet the Titanic continued to increase her speed, cutting through the cold Atlantic Ocean. By the time the lookouts sighted the iceberg, it was too late. The Titanic could not turn out of its way in time, and the iceberg scraped along the starboard side of the ship, creating a series of punctures. Two hours and 40 minutes later the brand-new Titanic sank to the bottom of the ocean. Over 1,500 people were drowned.

When the prophet dedicated the Curitiba Brazil Temple on June 1, 2008, he called a lad up to assist him at the cornerstone ceremony. A photographer suggested someone take off the boy’s hat for a picture. The boy had no hair and was obviously undergoing cancer treatments. President Monson lovingly put his arm around him and helped him place mortar on the wall. One of those accompanying the President mentioned it was time to go back in the temple to finish the dedication on schedule. President Monson shook his head. “No,” he said, “I want to call up one more.” Looking over the crowd, he settled on a woman at the back, and as their eyes met, he motioned for her to come forward. He put his arm around her and with loving care escorted her to the wall to finish the cornerstone sealing.
The day after the dedication, Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, who had also been at the dedication, asked President Monson how he knew the woman was the boy’s mother.
“I didn’t know,” he replied, “but the Lord knew.”
It was not many months later that the boy died. Elder Nelson says: “You can imagine what [the experience at the dedication] meant to the mother of that family. That was the Lord’s way of saying, ‘I know you, I am concerned for you, and I want to help you.’ That’s the kind of man we’ve got in this prophet of God.”11

In the spring of 2001, I was assigned to labor in the Switzerland Geneva Mission. While I was saying my goodbyes to family and friends, my father approached me to give me one last hug before I boarded my flight. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief. He handed it to me, telling me that this had belonged to my great-grandpa Tyler. My great-grandfather hadn’t been able to serve a mission, and it was my dad’s hope that by sending this handkerchief with me, I could serve my mission in memory of Grandpa Tyler.
I slid the hanky into the breast pocket of my suit coat, where it was quickly forgotten in the excitement of the adventure ahead of me.
Serving in the Switzerland Geneva Mission.
Eighteen months later, I found myself in a small chapel in Annemasse, France, on the border of Switzerland. We were in our Sunday Church meetings, and I was sitting in the chapel next to an older gentleman who began to sob uncontrollably during a sacrament meeting talk. I wanted to give him a tissue and started digging through my pockets. I found the long-lost handkerchief and handed it to the man. He graciously took it, and after the meeting was over, he approached me and promised to return it to me clean.
The following Tuesday was transfer day, and I was transferred to Clermont-Ferrand, France. I left on the four-hour train ride having forgotten to get the handkerchief back. Four months later, I received a transfer to Meyrin, Switzerland, on the opposite side of Geneva from Annemasse. But because of the horseshoe shape of the zone, I was back in the same zone I had left four months earlier.
Shortly after I arrived in Switzerland, my zone leaders gave me a call and told me of a situation that had arisen. They needed my help conducting a baptismal interview because every other missionary currently in the zone had taught this particular man, and according to mission rules, an elder who had not taught the missionary lessons to this man needed to do the interview. I was delighted because up until this point in my mission I had never conducted a baptismal interview.
A few days later, after exchanging companions, one of the zone leaders and I set out for the interview. A member drove us the hour and a half through a blizzard to Chamonix, where this man lived. Chamonix was part of the Annemasse Branch, where I had previously served.
When we arrived, the snow was so deep it towered over us. We worked our way through the maze of snow to the front door and knocked.
Upon answering the door, the lady of the house gasped and shut the door in our faces. I felt so bad. My thoughts quickly raced through my time in the Annemasse Branch. Had I offended this woman?
Then she opened the door again and handed me an envelope containing a hanky. “Is this yours?” she asked. My mind raced, and in one swoop it all came back to me: the Sunday branch meeting, the sobbing elderly gentleman, and the handkerchief. I said, “Yes, it is!”
The woman broke down in tears, threw her arms around me, and said, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” She began by telling us how she had longed for her husband to join the Church over the years. She was so happy that after all this time she had held on to her faith, and now her husband wanted to be baptized.
Visiting the convert’s family on the day of his baptismal interview.
She related to me the following: “It all began that day in church when you gave my husband your handkerchief. My husband, being a man of his word, had promised to return your handkerchief. So the following week when he returned to give you the clean hanky and you weren’t there, he decided he would go to church with me the following week. He continued to come with me every week, and every week you weren’t there. He started listening to the talks and lessons and liked what he was hearing. He continued to attend, and as time went on, he accepted the missionary lessons and now wants to be baptized.”
I was here to do his baptismal interview! My heart was touched deeply, and I thanked my Heavenly Father for allowing me to be a part of something so special. I went into the kitchen with her husband, and we stood facing each other across the kitchen island. We spoke of the commitment and responsibilities required of a new member.
He cried as he spoke of the grief he felt he had caused his wife all these years and wanted to know if God would truly forgive “an old man” for his ignorance. His respect and humility were that of one truly converted to the gospel of Jesus Christ.
He was ready to be baptized and confirmed, and a short time later he became a new member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints at the Annemasse chapel.
My great-grandfather Dorus Harvey Tyler never served a full-time mission during his lifetime, but through his white handkerchief, he was able to help bring a soul unto Christ.

As a young person, I had the opportunity to be in Palmyra, New York, one summer evening. I found myself in the Sacred Grove, alone. I knelt down to pray, asking Heavenly Father to provide me some manifestation or indication about what I truly already knew had occurred in that sacred place. I prayed with great sincerity, for a long time, in an attitude of reverence. And I did not receive any answer or any prompting from the Holy Ghost. Nothing came. Finally, I gave up and left disappointed, wondering, “What didn’t I do right? Why? What more was needed?” It seemed to me that with the surroundings, there could not be any better place to receive an answer to such a prayer.
I learned from that experience that we cannot demand things from God. We cannot say, “You have to answer me in this way, right this moment.” It is up to Him to decide how and when and what He will communicate to us. Our responsibility is to always be in the right condition to receive the promptings or whisperings, the revelation, the inspiration of the Spirit. But He makes the decision of how and when.
What I was seeking at that time—which did not come then—did indeed come to me five or six weeks later. I was at home reading the Book of Mormon. And without my asking, there came upon me a strong impression, feeling, and communication through the Holy Ghost that confirmed my belief and testimony.
It was such a strong communication that it made me cry. It was also such a pure communication that it had no need for words. The Spirit does not need to be limited to words; He can communicate Spirit to spirit with a language that is unmistakable because it has no words. It is a communication of pure knowledge and intelligence from the Spirit, and I have come to know that it truly is the best way to acquire knowledge. It is stronger and longer lasting than touching or seeing; we can come to doubt the physical senses, but we cannot doubt when the Holy Spirit speaks to us. It is the surest witness. Because of this, the unforgivable sin is to deny the Holy Ghost or the testimony of the Holy Ghost.
I truly feel fine that the Lord did not give me an answer in the Sacred Grove because I might have come to think that one must make a pilgrimage to Palmyra in order to be able to receive a testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith. Now I know that it can come at any place. You don’t have to go to Jerusalem in order to receive a testimony of the Lord Jesus Christ. That testimony can come to any ordinary person, wherever he or she may be, because our Heavenly Father and the Holy Ghost know each one of us intimately. They know where we are and how to find us. And They don’t need visas. In fact, They are acquainted with the entire world! They already know.

Beatrix did enjoy the family holidays in Scotland every summer. It was here that her creative ability grew. She loved to see the frogs leaping, rabbits hopping, and little wood mice playing. She would hide in the fields for hours at a time, sitting in tall weeds as she watched and dreamed. The simple cottages where the Scottish families lived appealed to Beatrix. She was amazed at the love and affection Scottish parents showed their children.
Farmers allowed Beatrix to feed their small animals. She gave bread to the ducks, corn to the chickens, lettuce and carrots to the rabbits. It was as though she suddenly lived in a magical world, and Beatrix was spellbound. She and little Bertram sketched everything in sight.

Stanley was a 19-year-old investigator in Hong Kong. He was excited about the gospel and wanted to be baptized until his friends criticized the Church. He met with the missionaries. They testified that God cared enough about him to answer his prayer. They invited him to kneel and ask Heavenly Father if the teachings were true. First one companion and then the other offered a short prayer. Then Stanley prayed. When he finished his humble prayer, they asked him, “Stanley, how do you feel?” He slowly raised his head and in almost a whisper replied, “Baptism, baptism.”

Both boys eagerly participate in the Scouting program. In New Brunswick, boys seven years old and younger are Beavers. As a Beaver, Stephen is learning to share, be a good sport, and work with others. In Cub Scouts, Jason has earned his sports badge by jumping over a rope. He was the only one who didn’t knock it down! He also earned his artist badge by drawing a picture, and his pet-care badge by caring for and feeding the family cat and one of the dogs.

I am what you would call an average high school student. I’m not that popular or good looking. So you can see why I was excited when the new girl at my school agreed to go to the homecoming dance with me. Okay, I wasn’t just excited; I was walking on air. She was a beautiful, blond-haired girl from my ward, and I considered myself lucky to be her date. Homecoming finally rolled around, and I was even more excited.
When I picked her up for the date and met with the other couple we were going to “double” with, my good mood soon disappeared. Once we were with the other couple, my date suddenly seemed more interested in the other guy than in me. I tried to tell myself that I was imagining it, and that everything was all right. But during dinner, she acted as if I weren’t even there.
At the dance I could no longer deny that my suspicions were correct. My date wouldn’t dance with me, but she did dance with the other guy. My heart broke. I got so frustrated that I left and took a walk. While I walked around the school, all I could think was, Why me? I waited to date until I was 16, I’ve tried to do what’s right, so why is this happening to me?
The dance finally ended, and I decided to give it one last shot. We had planned to go to a movie, so I decided we would. The other couple was still with us, and during the movie, my date held hands with the other guy. I hadn’t expected to hold hands with her, but I never guessed she would be holding hands with him.
When I finally arrived back home, I realized that I was all alone. My family was out of town, and it was too late to call a friend. So I did the only thing I knew how to do. I lay down and cried just like a little kid.
After a while, I got down on my knees to say my prayers. I asked for peace. At that moment, my heart was filled with a love that was so powerful and amazing I can’t really describe it. The Savior’s love filled my heart, and I knew that Heavenly Father loved me. After that I could go to sleep and deal with what had happened.
Now that I look back on this experience, I have to laugh. That horrible date is just a memory to me, and my life has gone on. And even though it was a terrible experience, I learned something very important: with Heavenly Father’s love, I can endure.

I often think back to my time with President Kimball. He would invite me to his family camping trips, picnics, and Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. Even then I knew that he truly was an Apostle and prophet of the Lord Jesus Christ.
I met President Kimball one last time while he was very ill. But he still smiled at me and hugged me. He was my first LDS contact, and I knew he would never let go of me.

I once knew a man who attained a high position in a company. Each day he would go to his office with a briefcase. One day his wife asked him, “Why do you carry that briefcase to work each day?”
He replied, “The executive vice-president is a very important person, and the paperwork he manages is also important. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes,” she said. But then she asked, “How many times do you open the briefcase and use the papers?”
“The truth is, very few times,” he responded.
And she replied, “If the briefcase gives you a feeling of importance, wouldn’t it be easier just to carry an empty one?”
While he was thinking about that, she added one more thought.
“But if you carry it only for status, let me remind you that by the time you leave the office, the only person who sees you is the custodian.”