Gospel Story Finder

The need for courage came to me in a most vivid and dramatic manner some 50 years ago. I was serving as a bishop. The general session of our stake conference was being held in the Assembly Hall. Our stake presidency was to be reorganized. The Aaronic Priesthood, including members of bishoprics, were providing the music for the conference. As we concluded singing our first selection, President Joseph Fielding Smith, our conference visitor, stepped to the pulpit and read for sustaining approval the names of the new stake presidency. I am confident that the other members of the stake presidency had been made aware of their callings, but I had not. After reading my name, President Smith announced: “If Brother Monson is willing to respond to this call, we shall be pleased to hear from him now.”
As I stood at the pulpit and gazed out on that sea of faces, I remembered the song we had just sung. Its title was “Have Courage, My Boy, to Say No.” That day I selected as my acceptance theme, “Have Courage, My Boy, to Say Yes.”

A dear friend whom I admire greatly is particularly gifted with lovingly balancing her time. She always has been able to pay attention to what matters most, regardless of everything else going on around her. She once told me that the most important person to her is the one she is with at any particular moment...whether it is the mailman, the grocery clerk, or the next-door neighbor.

In the midst of the chaos and confusion of getting her six children off to school in the mornings, I recall seeing her stop everything and gather her children around the front door for a morning prayer. I remember picking her up for a meeting one busy morning when it was very apparent she hadn't taken the time to do her breakfast dishes or pick up the living room. Instead, I watched as she quietly and sweetly finished reading a picture book to her three year old before we rushed off to our meeting. She understood that anxiously engaged does not have to mean hectically engaged or frantically engaged. She has been a perfect example to me of "deep, quiet commitment" because of the way I have watched her use her time in serving the Lord and His purposes.

Peter Hagen sat at the kitchen table in their small cabin and watched his mother remove four loaves of bread from the oven. Usually the smell of freshly baked bread made him feel happy, but today he was worried.
“Will we have a Christmas this year?” Peter asked his mother.
“Of course we will,” Mother replied. “We’re not in Ohio anymore, but I think our Christmas will be just as good as if we were. You’ll see.”
Already Peter missed the gaily decorated Christmas tree, wrapped presents, delicious cookies, and the friends with whom he’d spent so many happy hours.
It was just ten months ago that ten-year-old Peter, his five-year-old sister, Ruthie, and their parents had journeyed west from Ohio by covered wagon to settle on the plains of the Dakota Territory. Peter couldn’t understand how his father could think that living on a farm in such a lonely area was worth leaving their comfortable home in Ohio.
“How can Christmas be the same?” Peter asked his mother. “There aren’t any stores where we can buy presents, or any friends to enjoy shopping with even if there were stores.”
“Well, Peter, there are many kinds of gifts we can give besides the ones we buy in a store,” answered Mother.
That evening at supper Peter was still worried about celebrating Christmas in their new home. “Dad, will we at least have a Christmas tree this year?” he asked.
“We’ll have a tree,” Father said as he smiled at Peter and Ruthie. “We couldn’t bring our tinsel and glass ornaments with us, so we’ll have to depend on you to make the decorations for our tree.”
“That might be fun,” said Peter. He noticed Ruthie was smiling too.
“I’d like a doll for Christmas,” Ruthie said suddenly. “A big doll with a pretty dress.”
“Maybe, Ruthie,” Mother answered finally. “But don’t count too much on it.”
Oh, I hope she can have a doll, Peter thought. I still wish we were back in our old home where there were stores so we could buy things.
“What would you like for Christmas, Dad?” Peter asked.
Father thought a moment and answered, “I suppose a new saddle for our horse.”
“And what do you want, Mom?” Ruthie asked.
“I would like a piano just like the one we left behind,” Mother replied. “I do miss my music.”
Peter couldn’t help but join in with a wish for himself. “I’d like some ice skates. It’s not easy to skate on the pond in my boots.”
After supper Peter and Ruthie started making Christmas decorations. Mother showed them how to carve stars out of yellow lye soap. They tied bows out of different colored ribbons and cut yarn into short strips.
“The yarn can be our tinsel,” Peter told Ruthie. “I can hardly wait to see our tree!”
The new ornaments were stored on a shelf until Christmas Eve, when it was the family tradition to decorate the Christmas tree.
As Christmas drew near, Ruthie continued to talk about a new doll and Mother hummed some of the songs she used to play on her piano. It made Peter feel sad to think that each one couldn’t have the gift he or she wanted most.
Peter went to his room and pulled out a wooden box from under his bed where he kept his most prized possessions. He opened the box and took out a pocketknife given to him by his best friend back in Ohio, some stones he found in a stream along the way to Dakota, two drawing pencils, a pair of scissors, a spelling award he won last year in the fifth grade, and an old catalog.
As Peter slowly turned the pages of the catalog, he noticed a page full of pictures of saddles. An idea flashed into his mind. They’ll have to use their imaginations, Peter thought, but I can make sure everyone will have a special Christmas present this year!
On Christmas Eve Peter and his father brought in a small evergreen tree and placed it in the center of the kitchen on a wooden stand. Ruthie hung the soap stars and bows on the tree while Peter draped the yarn tinsel over the branches. Then Peter hung some oddly shaped paper ornaments on the tree. One had a dark brown picture on it.
“What have we here?” asked Father as he turned the picture over so he could look at it. “Why, it’s a saddle!” he declared.
“It’s your Christmas saddle, Dad. Now all you need is a paper horse,” Peter said with a big smile.
Peter handed Ruthie a picture he had neatly cut out of the catalog. “Here’s your doll, Ruthie. It’s only a paper picture, but she’ll be part of our wishing game. Maybe next year you’ll have a real doll.”
Ruthie held the picture gently in her hands and said, “She’s pretty. If we put her on top of the tree, she can be our angel.”
Father picked Ruthie up, and she hung the doll on the top of the tree.
Mother could see a picture of a piano dangling near the saddle ornament. “And I have my piano,” she said as she hugged Peter.
“I wanted us to have what we each wanted most for Christmas,” Peter said. He held up a picture of a pair of skates and hung it on the tree. “And here are my ice skates.”
“Well, Peter, I think we’re having a nice Christmas. After all, Christmas is in our hearts, and as long as we’re together, we’ll always have the same good Christmas we used to have back in our old home,” his mother said.
“Next year we’ll probably have some of those gifts sitting under the tree instead of hanging on the tree,” Father laughed, but Peter thought that Father seemed to have a sudden hoarseness when he spoke.
“Are you all ready for popcorn?” Mother asked.
“Popcorn!” cried Peter and Ruthie. That was a real Christmas treat!
Ruthie and Mother seemed happy as they roasted the popcorn. And Father was getting ready to read the story of the first Christmas from the Bible.
Peter smiled and looked around. The tree was gaily decorated, and there were presents—even if they were only paper ones.
It is a nice Christmas, he thought. Suddenly he knew just what his mother meant when she said, “After all, Christmas is in our hearts!”

A freshman in college! I could hardly believe the excitement I felt at being on my own, at being free to make my own choices and be my own person. I quickly found out there was much more to university life than just going to school. I became immersed in the fun activities of college life, and many, many nights I stayed up past the moon.
Saturday nights in particular were a problem because everyone knew there were no classes the next day. My previous 100 percent attendance at church became a thing of the past. I got so little sleep before my 9:00 A.M. Sunday meeting that crawling out of bed seemed physically impossible. On mornings when I was able to drag my limp body to the church doors—late, of course—even the hard, wooden benches seemed to invite me to stretch out and sleep.
Needless to say, I wasn’t getting much out of the meetings. Finally one Sunday I realized I hadn’t been to church for two weeks in a row. My conscience bothered me. Maybe that’s why I began reading in the Old Testament. If I couldn’t get to my church meetings, maybe I could at least learn something on my own.
Then I noticed a scripture I had highlighted during some previous reading. The words seemed to almost grab me and shake me.
“I have taught thee in the way of wisdom; I have led thee in right paths.
“Take fast hold of instruction; … for she is thy life.
“Enter not into the path of the wicked, and go not in the way of evil men” (Prov. 4:11, 13–14).
It was as if my Heavenly Father were saying, “You should know better!” All my life, loving parents, teachers, and leaders had taught me “the way of wisdom.” I had been led “in right paths.” I ought to have had enough understanding to know how to do what is right, to remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy.
For the first time since I’d been at school, I realized the awesome responsibility I held for my own spirituality. It wasn’t up to my parents or other adults to keep me from the “path of the wicked.” I had to do it myself.
I guess I’m still something of a night owl. And I probably could do better at making sure I’m 100 percent prepared for the Sabbath. But since the day I read that scripture, I’ve learned that I’d better get some sleep on Saturday night if I want to be sharp on Sunday. It has become a priority in my life.

I got invited to a birthday party for a boy in my class. I was super excited. My mom told me the party was on a Sunday. She said I could make the choice about going to the party. I really wanted to go, but I knew that we are supposed to keep the Sabbath day holy. I told my mom I knew the right choice—I was going to skip the party. We took a present to my friend’s house on Saturday. I asked his mom if we could play on another day and explained why I couldn’t go to the party. I know I will be blessed because I chose the right and decided to keep the Sabbath day holy.

The Sunday before Christmas I woke up to the sounds of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. That’s how Mom gets us up on Sundays. From then on, the day went downhill. To begin with, my hairbrush was missing. I suspected my three-year-old brother, Jeffy, had taken it, and sure enough, I found it in his toy box. “Mom,” I complained, “I’m getting sick and tired of this little shrimp getting into my things!”
Mom was busy giving the baby a bath, and she acted as if she hadn’t even heard me. “Amy,” she said, “we’re going to need to change our plans for tonight’s family Christmas program. Daddy just called from church, and that new family, the Hansens, are still living in a motel. He’d like to invite them for dinner and to spend the evening with us. There’s nothing less like the Sabbath than the Silver Moon Motel.”
“But Mom, you can’t do that!” I wailed. “You know I’ve planned this for two months, and it’s just for our family. All the parts are taken.
“Besides,” I went on, getting louder and louder, “they have a bunch of little shrimps who’d probably tear the whole house apart.” Then I started to cry.
Mother wrapped the baby in a towel and turned to face me. “Amy, I had no idea that it meant this much to you. Please don’t be so upset. I’ll just tell Dad when we get to church, and he can tell the Hansens that it won’t work out.”
All during sacrament meeting I watched the three Hansen kids—two-, three-, and four-year-old boys—climbing all over the benches and squirming across their parents’ laps. Brother and Sister Hansen looked pretty tired by the time they’d taken each boy out about five times. It’s just as well, I thought to myself, I can’t even imagine what four little boys would do to my bedroom!
I felt relieved all the way to Primary. On the way down the hall, I noticed that it had started snowing outside. It was going to be a perfect family night.
When I got to class, Sister Martin, my Merrie Miss teacher, wanted to know what we thought it might have been like to be strangers in a strange town, like Mary and Joseph were when they went to Bethlehem. All of us had an answer to that question. Even Mandi Perkins, who hardly ever says anything, said, “I bet they felt lonely.”
Then Sister Martin asked us why we thought the innkeeper hadn’t let this poor, lonely couple stay at his house. We really had to think about that for a while. The innkeeper had always been one of the side characters in the Christmas story. But I’d never thought about him having feelings.
“Well,” I suggested, “he probably felt busy with all his other company.”
Jenny Peterson thought the innkeeper might have been thinking that this couple, who were soon going to have a baby, would be too much trouble. That’s when I started to feel a little uncomfortable.
“He probably had things planned the way he wanted them, and here came some people to mess up his plans,” my best friend, Rachel, added. Suddenly this wasn’t a Christmas story that happened two thousand years ago. This was something that was happening today.
Mandi Perkins added the final blow—“The innkeeper missed the whole thing, didn’t he? The two most important guests in the world came to his place, and he wouldn’t let them in.”
“Do you suppose, girls,” said Sister Martin, “that we ever act like the innkeeper? That maybe we become a little selfish and miss helping someone? Look with me in your Bibles at Matthew 25:40 [Matt. 25:40]: ‘And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.’”
By that time my eyes were so filled with tears that the words seemed to be swimming across the page. Here were the Hansens without a place to live, and I was acting like the innkeeper, not wanting them to bother me. I knew how I would act if the Hansens were Mary and Joseph and the Baby Jesus, and I knew that Heavenly Father would want me to treat them the same way.
Luckily Sister Martin didn’t ask me to give the prayer, because I was having a hard time swallowing. Afterward I hurried out of the room as quickly as I could and headed down the hall to where I saw my parents. I heard my dad saying to the Hansens, “We’re awfully sorry, but our daughter—”
I didn’t even think. I rushed up and blurted out, “There’s room at the inn!” and then I blushed deep red.
Dad saw my red eyes and must have guessed what had happened, because he just continued: “As I was saying,”—he put his arm around me—“our daughter has planned a very special Christmas program for tonight, and I think she wants to warn you that you’ll be having a part in it!”

However, funding college became a concern after my 46-year-old father died unexpectedly of a heart attack at home. We eventually lost our family home, and I became responsible for my own finances at the end of my senior year in high school. But the Lord provided a way. Although I had only attended one year of seminary, at seminary graduation I was offered a McKay scholarship in the form of a one-year tuition waiver. Although I had only attended one year of seminary, I was offered a McKay scholarship in the form of a one-year tuition waiver at seminary graduation.

Through my newfound faith and experience with amazing faculty and fellow students from around the world here at BYU Hawaii, I grew my love for both spiritual and intellectual pursuits. The Lord transformed a Hawaiian surfer kid into a burgeoning scholar. I was also prepared to serve a mission while attending school here. My love for teaching the gospel in the mission field opened my eyes to a career in teaching. After my mission, I returned to BYUH and fell in love with my history classes. Determined and inspired, I worked to become a History professor too.

Leaders in both organizations can work together to plan activities that will build friendships. In one ward, the young women wanted to learn to sew, so they asked the sisters in Relief Society to help. At a Mutual activity night, each young woman was paired up with a Relief Society sister who helped her make a skirt. Later the pairs finished the skirts at home. Then the young women invited the Relief Society sisters to a fashion show where the girls modeled their colorful new skirts.

In the first instance, the young women reached out to the Relief Society sisters, and in the second, the Relief Society sisters reached out to the young women. In both instances, the friendships continued and blessed the lives of all.

Let me share with you a personal experience on preparation. I grew up on a farm just south and a little west of Rexburg in the Lewisville area. My Father farmed and raised hay, grain, and potatoes. Oh, and yes we six boys, as we became old enough, milked several cows. My Dad's philosophy was I don't milk cows to get rich; I milk cows to raise boys. I really didn't like the farm work or milking the cows. It was a trial to me as was the farm work, but I did my share.

One day I spoke to my father about finding a different job than the work on the farm. He promised to talk with one of the bishops in our Stake about my desire. The following day he told me to stop by the tire store in Rigby. The tire store was only a few blocks from the school. I anxiously awaited the time to visit the store and check on this new opportunity to work. Mr. Pieper greeted me and after a short visit told me I could report to work the next afternoon. I was thrilled as I anticipated a salary and no more farm work. However, I soon found out that I had not understood the fine print in my Dad's plan. There was still work on the farm to be accomplished, and the cows were still part of my responsibility. Many times after work at the tire store I would walk the three miles home and help my brothers with the milking. I loved the work at the store; and following my mission, I was released by my Stake President, President Pieper. We visited about plans to return to school, and I must say I really didn't know what I wanted to do with my life as far as a vocation. He encouraged me to return to work, while I made my decisions.

One day President Pieper took me aside to visit about a change in my employment. Mr. Newton, the owner of the Rexburg tire store, was in desperate need of help. His employee had broken his leg on the job and he was not able to conduct business as usual. President Pieper asked, "If I would be willing to help out in Rexburg for the next few months." He also said, "I will continue to pay your wage until Mr. Newton is back on his feet. Then he asked, "How soon can you be ready to leave for Rexburg and do you have your lunch?" Then President Pieper said with a twinkle in his eye, "You never know when opportunity may knock, and you need to be prepared to open the door."

These experiences working for my Father, President Pieper, and Paul Newton prepared me for a comfortable place to make my livelihood. I truly like people and enjoyed serving people and helping them to be safe and comfortable as they traveled the highways of this great nation. We never know when opportunity may knock and we need to be prepared to open the door.

Although David Day of Bristol, England, is just 13, he already has some significant performances to his credit. He was chosen from hundreds of entries to play the piano in Royal Albert Hall in a national music festival organized by the Scout and Guide Association.
“The concert at Royal Albert Hall was the biggest thing I’ve ever done,” said David. “I was nervous.” His nervousness did not show as he performed for a large audience that included his parents, two sisters, brother, and grandparents.
David has also appeared in a Children’s Royal Variety Show, performing before Princess Margaret. David began playing at the age of six. At age eight he was called to be the junior Sunday School pianist. A year later he played the organ in stake conference.
Currently David serves as the ward organist and first counselor in the deacons quorum presidency in the Bristol Fourth Ward.

I grew up in my mother’s home, but I eventually moved in with my father and stepmother, who were both members of the Church. They always lovingly invited me to go to church with them, but I always kindly said, “No, thanks.”
After a year, I finally decided to start going to church with them. I found out that it wasn’t as bad as I thought that it would be. The chapel was very close to the house, and I could enjoy the company of my parents and friends there. I kept going to church, but only because it was convenient.
One day, just before sacrament meeting, Trent, a friend of mine, came up and asked me, “Hey, Alex, do you want to help pass the sacrament?”
I was shocked at what he’d asked. “No, I’m not even a member,” I told him.
He seemed confused. “So, you’re not baptized?” he asked.
“No,” I said, “I’m not baptized.”
There was an awkward pause while he tried to think of something to say. Then the words finally came out, “So … do you want to be baptized?”
“No,” I answered simply. “No, I don’t want to be baptized.”
“Oh, I see,” he said. There was another awkward pause. Then he said, “Well, see you at Sunday School.”
I can just imagine how embarrassed and uncomfortable Trent must have felt as he returned to his seat, but what neither of us knew was that he’d planted a seed somewhere deep within me. When I sat down, I couldn’t get his question out of my head. I thought to myself, “How ridiculous! Of course I don’t want to be baptized! There’s no way I … well …”
Then, for the first time in my life, I realized that I’d never found out for myself if the Church was true. Then I couldn’t help but ask myself, “Do I want to be baptized?”
One night I was off by myself and still thinking about Trent’s question. I knelt down and asked Heavenly Father to help me find the truth. As I thought about it, I felt strongly that I should investigate the Church. When I got home that night, I asked my stepmother if she could set up visits with the missionaries for me.
The elders came and explained the Restoration of the gospel. They cleared up much of the misunderstanding I’d had about the Church and answered all my tough questions. They also gave me a copy of the Book of Mormon, and I fell in love with reading it. For weeks I carried it around in my pocket and read it every chance I had.
Deciding one night to act on Moroni’s challenge and promise, I prayed and asked my Heavenly Father if what I’d read was true (see Moroni 10:4–5). I felt a peaceful assurance come over me, and I knew in my heart that the Book of Mormon was true!
I ran upstairs, excited, and told my parents the answer to Trent’s question: “I do want to be baptized!”
On December 25th I had a very “white” Christmas. Not only was there snow on the ground, but I was also dressed in my white baptism clothes. A few weeks later, after receiving the Aaronic Priesthood, I went up to my good friend Trent and asked: “Can I help pass the sacrament?”

When our oldest daughter started seminary, Nuria would take her early in the morning. This meant that I took care of the other children. I helped them get ready, we ate breakfast, and then I took them to school.

After a while, I thought, “Seminary is not working out! The family is divided. We are not all together for breakfast.”

That was until I saw my daughter studying the scriptures on her own one night. I was so happy and grateful that I became a believer in seminary! A while later, Nuria was called to teach early-morning seminary. When she entered law school, I took over and taught for six years. At times it was a sacrifice, but I had the blessing of teaching all our children in seminary.

Not only will your circle of friends greatly influence your thinking and behavior, but you will also influence theirs. Many nonmembers have come into the Church through friends who have involved them in Church activities. I share with you a treasured family experience which had its beginning back in 1959, when I was called to preside over the Canadian Mission, headquartered in Toronto.

Our daughter, Ann, turned five shortly after we arrived in Canada. She saw the missionaries going about their work, and she, too, wanted to be a missionary. My wife demonstrated understanding by permitting Ann to take to class a few copies of the Children’s Friend. That wasn’t sufficient for Ann. She also wanted to take with her a copy of the Book of Mormon so that she might talk to her teacher, Miss Pepper, about the Church. I think it rather thrilling that just a few years ago, long years after our return from Toronto, we came home from a vacation and found in our mailbox a note from Miss Pepper which read:

“Dear Ann:
“Think back many years ago. I was your schoolteacher in Toronto, Canada. I was impressed by the copies of the Children’s Friend which you brought to school. I was impressed by your dedication to a book called the Book of Mormon.
“I made a commitment that one day I would come to Salt Lake City and see why you talked as you did and why you believed in the manner you believed. Today I had the privilege of going through your visitors’ center on Temple Square. Thanks to a five-year-old girl who had an understanding of that which she believed, I now have a better understanding of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”

Miss Pepper died not too long after that visit. How happy our daughter, Ann, was when she attended the Jordan River Utah Temple and performed the temple work for her beloved teacher whom she had friendshipped long ago.

As a college student, Daeyoon returned home to Chinhae for a visit and met a former high school friend who used to ridicule him for not drinking. “Do you still go to church now that you are a university student?” the friend asked.
“Yes,” Daeyoon replied. “I intend to do so all my life.”
“I just can’t understand it,” the friend exclaimed. “How can you have fun when you are bound by so many restrictions? I could never live like that. I want to be free!”
At home, Brother Kim pondered the fact that as soon as they had met, his friend had asked him something about the Church. When they met for lunch the next day, Daeyoon said, “I don’t want to push you in any way, but I think you might find it fun to meet with the missionaries from my church. It will be a new experience for you.”
To Daeyoon’s delight, his schoolmate replied, “Why not? I’ve got nothing better to do right now.” So he began receiving the missionary lessons. His life-style changed with each lesson. He stopped smoking and drinking, he prayed with real intent, and he avidly read the Book of Mormon. By the fourth discussion, he was so excited that he invited his sister to join in the discussions. Before long, he, his three sisters, and his father were baptized. A year later, this schoolmate was serving in the Korea Taejon Mission, where he became an assistant to the mission president—all before Brother Kim had received his own mission call.
During this same time period, Daeyoon was also instrumental in the conversion of seven of his college friends.

I had great pleasure in training a well-bred colt. He had a good disposition, clean, well-rounded eye, was well proportioned, and all in all, a choice animal. Under the saddle he was as willing, responsive, and cooperative as a horse could be. He and my dog, Scotty, were real companions. I liked the way he would go up to something of which he was afraid. He had confidence that if he would do as I bade him he would not be injured.

But my horse Dandy resented restraint. He was ill-contented when tied and would nibble at the tie rope until he was free. He would not run away; he just wanted to be free. Thinking other horses felt the same, he would proceed to untie their ropes. He hated to be confined in the pasture, and if he could find a place in the fence where there was only smooth wire, he would paw the wire carefully with his feet until he could step over to freedom. More than once my neighbors were kind enough to put him back in the field. He learned even to push open the gate. Though he often did damage that was provoking and sometimes expensive, I admired his ingenuity.

But his curiosity and desire to explore the neighborhood led him and me into trouble. Once on the highway he was hit by an automobile, resulting in a demolished machine, injury to the horse, and slight, though not serious, injury to the driver. Recovering from that, and still impelled by a feeling of wanderlust, he inspected the fence throughout the entire boundary. He even found the gates wired. So for a while we thought we had Dandy secure in the pasture.

One day, however, somebody left the gate unwired. Detecting this, Dandy unlatched it, took another horse with him, and together they visited the neighbor’s field. They went to an old house used for storage. Dandy’s curiosity prompted him to push open the door. There was a sack of grain. What a find! Yes, and what a tragedy! The grain was poisoned bait for rodents! In a few minutes Dandy and the other horse were in spasmodic pain, and shortly both were dead.

He does not want us to go through pains without purpose. He loves us so much, and He wants to prove it so much. But sometimes, through our own choices, we close that door, we separate ourselves from Him, and then it is in our own hands. We must then take that first step toward the recovery of peace in our hearts. This is something I would experience for myself.
After months of learning, missionary lessons, and classes, I experienced adversity in one of its most painful forms—adversity that confronts you with feelings of the past, tempts you to make incorrect decisions in the present, and tries to ruin the future you always dreamed of. I learned that affliction sometimes (and many times) comes from somewhere you never expected.
Being worthy and virtuous in thoughts and acts had always seemed part of who I was, up until then. I knew that the things that I was about to do weren’t right, that people I once trusted were about to go off-road, and that I had actually already begun creating a distance between me and my Heavenly Father. I knew that now was the time when I needed to choose whether I would continue this or stick to the values I had always honored. So I had to find that strength inside of me that told me that I couldn’t ruin these dreams so easily. I couldn’t ruin my hope of an eternal family and a loving husband. Something in my life was wrong, and I knew it had to change.
That feeling, together with the young testimony that had begun to flourish in my heart, and true angels in my life who were always there to help me, saved me from being lost and made me so strong again that I could choose to turn back toward the Lord in time. And I know that He always was there, blessing me in my efforts to listen to His voice and to stay worthy of eternal blessings.
When I think about that time that I went through now, I think of courage for not having surrendered, courage for having always demonstrated my values, and the faith I had and still have.
Although the time of repentance that followed was a time of pain, of recognition of wrong feelings and moments, and of humility, I am so grateful for it—and I always will be. Grateful for the fact that, at the right time, I could feel that my Heavenly Father had forgiven me, that He continues to love me, and that He always will.
The part that cost me the most was learning to forgive myself. I remember how I felt, unworthy and without beauty, neither on the outside nor on the inside. But my Savior was always there, giving me strength and inspiration. He put the right people on my path who helped me to learn even more about the Church, since I had returned to Belgium. They loved me for who I am and helped me love myself again and recognize that this experience didn’t have to be a pain that I carry in my backpack of life forever. I could see that I had the opportunity to choose, to experience how strong my testimony already was by defending my values. Now I see that because I worked on strengthening my testimony through this experience, I can be a blessing in the lives of so many people, near and far.
I was baptized on March 16, 2019, in my ward in Belgium, and I am so happy to have taken this first step on my way to eternity. Yes, I will encounter more challenges along the way—we all will—but with my testimony in my heart, I am ready to face them, since I know Whom to choose.

“I always loved playing baseball. I’m grateful to my parents who let me turn the backyard into a practice baseball diamond every summer. I would line it off, make base pads, and really work hard at bettering my skills. In those days there were no organized Little League ball teams. One neighborhood played another neighborhood. The competition was keen. A dirt lot was cleared, and excitement ran high.
“I recall an experience involving a baseball mitt when I was about nine or ten years old. I was playing baseball with great diligence, and I had an old mitt that was coming apart and just wouldn’t do anymore. The kind of mitt I wanted cost $4.50—a lot of money then. I kept wondering how I could get my father to buy it for me.
“Every day when Dad came home from work, he would sit in a rocking chair or swing on the porch while he waited for dinner. He worked long, hard days, and it was during the depression when times were difficult. I knew that my approach and my timing were vital. One night after Mother had fixed Dad’s favorite dinner, I decided it was the right time. ‘Dad,’ I said, ‘you always taught us that when we do something, we should do it right. Is that correct?’
“‘Yes, that’s right,’ he agreed.
“‘You taught us that if we’re going to do something, it ought to be done with quality. Is that right?’
“‘That’s right,’ he agreed again.
“I said, ‘I’m assigned to pitch a critical game this weekend, and my baseball glove is worn-out. You’d want me to go out there with a high-quality, first-class mitt, wouldn’t you?’
“I brought the old glove out from behind my back, and Dad said, ‘That’s a terrible-looking glove!’
“I said, ‘I need $4.50 to get a new one, and I’ve already picked it out.’
“Dad stopped the porch swing, took out his little note pad and pencil, and started writing.
“I knew I’d lost with my sales pitch.
“‘Well,’ Dad said, ‘let’s see how long it would take you to earn it. At ten cents an hour, that would be forty-five hours of work.’ He then mapped out jobs for me that would require forty-five hours of work.
“Of course you know the end of the story. I didn’t get the mitt that week—but I did a couple of weeks later. I still have that glove. It is priceless to me. It taught me the value of work.”

Illustrations by Jim Madsen
One weekend I visited a seaside resort in the south of England. While there, I wanted to get to a place called Fairlight Glen farther up the coast. As I started to walk up the coast, I saw a sign saying, “Do not walk along this section of the beach.” No other information was given, and I didn’t know why the instruction was placed there. I ignored the sign and continued up the coast to Fairlight Glen.
As I walked I noticed that the tide was coming in. On one side of me were very steep, almost vertical cliffs, and on the other side the sea was closing in. I realized that I could be trapped by the incoming tide. I panicked and started to run! The pebbles on the beach made it very difficult to run, and as I put my weight down, my feet would sink in and cause me to feel as if I were getting nowhere. Realizing that I might not make it to Fairlight Glen in time, I looked at the cliff face and considered climbing at a point that didn’t look as steep as the rest. But as I held on to the cliff face, the soft chalk rock gave way and there was no grip or support to climb up. Continuing to panic, I ran along the beach until I eventually reached Fairlight Glen, where there was easy access up the cliff face.
I now appreciate the wisdom of that sign near the coast. Although it was a restriction, it was also a protection from being trapped by incoming tides. Had I followed its wise advice, I wouldn’t have put my life in danger that day. I know the same is true for us when we choose to keep the commandments, because they are there to bless and protect us and keep us safe.

This important truth was evidenced some years ago as a member of the Seventy was on assignment in Hong Kong. He visited a very humble ward that was struggling in many ways, unable to provide for its own needs. As the bishop described their situation, the General Authority felt the impression to have the members pay their tithing. The bishop, knowing their dire circumstances, was concerned about how he could carry out that counsel. He thought about it and decided he would approach some of the most faith-filled members of his ward and ask them to pay their tithing. The next Sunday he went to the Primary. He taught the children about the Lord’s law of tithing and asked if they would be willing to pay tithing on the money they earned. The children said they would. And they did.
The bishop later went to the adults in the ward and shared with them that for the past six months their faithful children had been paying tithing. He asked them if they would be willing to follow the example of these children and do the same. The people were so touched by the sacrifices the children were willing to make that they did what was necessary to pay their tithing. And the windows of heaven were opened. With the example of these faithful children, a ward grew in obedience and in testimony.

I think a lot of us grow up having a step-by-step outline for our lives. Take me, for example: I planned on working in the medical field, getting married by the time I was 21, and having a bunch of kids before age 30, all while raising my perfect family in the gospel and living a blissfully joyful and unbothered life.

(Cue the laughter.)

This is where life has actually taken me as I have trusted myself to make good decisions, seized opportunities, followed promptings, and let God prevail:
I am a writer. The sight of blood and needles makes me squeamish.
I didn’t get married until I was 27 (and in the middle of a pandemic). And I married someone I had known for almost 10 years, even though I had dated other people during that time.
I struggle with a painful chronic illness that can make life hard sometimes. This illness has also led to infertility, making the possibility of children a big question mark.

As I have turned to Heavenly Father for guidance, I have found joy in my circumstances despite how drastically my life has differed from my original expectations. And I have faith that the future will be bright as I continue to do so.