Gospel Story Finder

Illustration by Rachel Hoffman-Bayles
I set a goal to read the Book of Mormon before my baptism, like my older brother and sister did. But when COVID happened, I missed a lot of school, and reading was extra hard for me. The Book of Mormon has a lot of big words, and I needed help.
Then my parents and I had an idea. I used the Gospel Library app on my mom’s phone to listen to the Book of Mormon. We slowed the voices down so I could read and follow along more easily. I also stopped along the way and watched the videos linked in the app. Every time I read, I marked it down on a chart. I talked to my mom about what I was reading. It was fun!
I was getting better at reading, but I did not think I could finish by my baptism. So I said instead of finishing before my baptism, I’d finish before the end of the year (which was one month later). I kept reading. Sometimes my mom or my sister read with me.
On December 31, I finished the Book of Mormon! My whole family cheered. Then I went to my room to say a prayer. I asked if the Book of Mormon was true, and I felt so good.
I know that Heavenly Father listens when I pray. I know my heavenly parents love me. I know the Book of Mormon is the word of God, and Jesus loves us.

Shortly before turning 30, Roberta Tuilimu realized she wasn’t happy. She had three beautiful children, and she loved their father, Daniel Nepia, but Roberta and Daniel weren’t married. Daniel wasn’t a member of the Church, and it had been a long time since Roberta had attended regularly.
She was a long way from the temple marriage she had always dreamed of as a young girl who went to church every week with her parents in Auckland, New Zealand. But turning her back on her eternal goals wasn’t a one-time decision; it had been a slow turn completed gradually through little decisions she made each day.
For Roberta one decision clearly sticks out as the moment she first stepped off the gospel path, though a number of other choices had likely brought her to that point. As a teenager Roberta skipped going to church a couple of weeks to do homework. “It’s interesting that it can start with something that seemed so small at the time,” she says.
After missing a couple of weeks it was much easier for her not to go the next week. Weeks of only sporadic attendance turned into months. After she turned 18, her friends convinced her to go clubbing late at night on Saturdays, which made it even harder to get to church on Sundays. It also led her to start drinking.
“I knew it wasn’t right, but I thought that I could stop straightaway if I wanted to,” she says. “I tried to justify my decisions.”
She was living a lifestyle incompatible with entering the temple, yet after meeting Daniel, she took him to the Hamilton New Zealand Temple grounds and told him she wanted to be married there.
“I knew that’s where I wanted to go,” she says. But each bad decision seemed to make the next bad decision easier—leading her further from her desired destination. Soon Roberta and Daniel were living together.
“There was a disconnect between what I wanted—what I knew was right—and the decisions I was making,” she says. “I was in the now. I didn’t connect current decisions with where they would take me.”
As far as she was from where she had intended to go, Roberta was not lost to the Lord. Though Daniel and Roberta didn’t realize it at the time, the Good Shepherd, who came “to seek and to save that which was lost” (Luke 19:10), had been seeking after them all along.
The Spirit had been working on Daniel, such as when Roberta had taken him to the temple grounds and when Roberta’s father had blessed their children. Though they had moved several times, with each move they ran into—and occasionally studied with—the missionaries.
Then, after relocating again in 2006, they ran into some old schoolmates, Dan and Lisa Nathan, who were active members of the Church. Daniel and Roberta had just moved into the Nathans’ ward boundaries.
For three weeks Roberta put off Lisa’s invitations to go to church with her. “I didn’t want to have to explain my situation,” she says. “But I decided I wanted my kids in Primary.”
Soon Daniel and Roberta were meeting with the missionaries again. Daniel began attending church, where a good Gospel Principles teacher made a difference. The visiting teachers visited every month. The couple even met Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles during a special devotional.
Roberta sees in their experiences evidence that Heavenly Father had prepared “a whole bunch of good people who helped us.”
Through various experiences and people, Heavenly Father had provided Daniel and Roberta opportunities to “consider [their] ways” (Haggai 1:7). But they had to “commit [their] way unto the Lord” (Psalm 37:5) before they could make any progress.
“I knew my ways had not been His ways,” Roberta says (see Isaiah 55:8–9), “but I hadn’t known how to connect the two.”
The turning point came when the missionaries asked Daniel and Roberta to decide where they wanted to go, spiritually speaking, and what they needed to do to get there.
“When we decided in the end that what we wanted was to be where His way leads,” she says, “we started looking at what it would take to follow His way there.”
In the months that followed, Roberta worked to turn her back on the poor decisions in her past and return to the path she had left more than a decade earlier. Just as her turn from the gospel path as a teenager began with small decisions, Roberta’s return to the path began with doing seemingly little things each day.
“When I started trying to do the basics every day—individual and family prayers, reading the scriptures, taking the kids to church, helping others when I can—I could feel Heavenly Father looking after us and hearing our prayers,” Roberta says. “Our family was happier.”
Those little decisions helped strengthen Daniel and Roberta when it came time to make the big decisions. They decided to get married. Then, nearly a year after Daniel and Roberta started meeting with the missionaries, their desire to be together with their family forever led Daniel to be baptized.
Finally, after two years of trying to match what they did each day to what they wanted in the future, Daniel and Roberta were sealed in the temple—fulfilling Roberta’s childhood dream.
As part of Heavenly Father’s plan, Daniel and Roberta have the opportunity to decide each day which way they will choose—theirs or His. The couple is now more conscious of the direction their daily choices will take them.
From personal experience they understand how easy it is to lose their way when daily decisions are made without considering their effect on eternal destinations. But they are also grateful to have learned firsthand that there is a way back.
“I know the Lord loves me and wants me back because He blessed our lives with the people we met along our journey who helped us return,” Roberta says. “He never forgot me during my time away from the Church.”
Thanks to the love—and the atoning sacrifice—of the Good Shepherd, “the wicked [can] forsake his way, and … return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him … , for he will abundantly pardon” (Isaiah 55:7).
Now the Nepias are trying to stay focused on where they want to be. “When you realize there is more to this life than what’s now,” Daniel says, “it changes your choices.”

Through grace, participants regain the hope they have lost. One participant, Edward, grew up in the Church, but his childhood insecurities left him feeling that he wasn’t as good as other people. He says, “I didn’t understand the Atonement, and I didn’t love myself, so nothing really mattered.” When he was in his 20s, he started drinking and using drugs in an attempt to dull his negative feelings—a pattern that continued for 20 years.
When he was arrested a second time for drunk driving, he was ordered to get treatment. In the Church’s program, he learned that receiving forgiveness and regaining a sense of self-worth were possible. He attended church every Sunday, studied the 12 steps, and applied these gospel principles and actions to his life. He became willing to turn his life over to Heavenly Father and, in the process, learned how to love himself and how to let the Atonement work in his life. “I couldn’t overcome all these things by myself,” he says. “The Savior can do for me what I can’t do for myself.”

Liisa Roto of Tampere, Finland, has some friends she’d like you to meet. But to visit them, you need an appointment. You have to wear paper shoes so you won’t track bacteria into their living area. And Liisa must talk to them, calm them down, and convince them to trust you.

Then Liisa will stand beside a pool, raise both hands over her head, and blow on a whistle. Her friends will come slicing through the water at you like sleek, gray torpedoes. Then they’ll turn upward like missiles and launch themselves into the air, splashing you in the process.

Liisa’s friends, you see, are dolphins.

Paul McCauley was a happy devoted member of the Baptist church in the late 1960s. He loved his family and he worked hard to provide for them. He understood the value of spending quality time together as a family, so one year they took a long family vacation, in their station wagon, from the East to the West and back East again.
It was a foggy day when they arrived in Manti Utah on their way to Bryce Canyon and Arches. Paul said they came into town and there was a fog low to the ground. Because it was low to the ground, He saw what looked like a castle floating on a cloud. The Manti temple would look like it was floating because it sits on a hill and was above the fog.
He decided he needed stop and take a closer look at this floating Mormon castle, which he knew was a Mormon Temple because of all the road signs. He parked his car in the temple parking lot and headed towards the backdoor of the Temple in shorts and a pack of cigarettes rolled up in the sleeve of his tee-shirt. He said he headed to the backdoor, the wrong door, because he figured missionaries would try to snag his name at the front door - and if missionaries got hold of his name and address they'd never leave him alone.
There was a nice grounds keeper who saw Paul headed to the back door of the temple and said, "You are not a member, are you?"
The grounds keeper did his best to explain to Paul why he and his family could not tour the inside of the temple and he showed Paul to the visitor center.
Paul was just curious enough to know more that he went into the visitor center to see what he could find out about the church. At one point of the tour, he found himself in a small theater watching Man's Search for Happiness. So many of his questions were answered by just that one movie, and, maybe more importantly, he felt something powerful. So, Paul filled out a referral card, at the insistence of his wife, in spite of the fact that he did not really want missionaries knocking on his door.
A year passed after the McCauley's came home from their vacation and no missionaries showed up at their home. Paul had pretty much forgotten about Mormons. But, one night he came home a bit tipsy from the drink, and did something he'd done for most of his life before going to bed. He sat down, grabbed his scriptures, let them fall open to a page, and read on that page. On that night he said something remarkable happened. He said he clearly remembers the scriptures speaking to him, they said: "Paul, you are a drunken disciple." The message was clear, Paul knew he needed to get his life in order. He asked his sweet wife to "Call the Mormon missionaries" and two sister missionaries showed up knocking at the front door the next day.
One thing led to another, and the McCauleys were baptized members of the Church.

My plan also included BYU for my undergraduate education. My father was not a member of the Church, but he was very supportive of education. He would often help us with science projects or on a variety of our homework assignments, particularly math—he was really good at math. My mother was a member of the Church, and each week she took us to Sunday meetings and made sure we had rides to the weekly youth meetings, which at that time were Primary for the children and Mutual for the teenagers. From my teachers in these Church programs I learned the basic gospel principles.

As a teenager I also learned about BYU. When the time came I applied to the colleges in my hometown of San Diego, California, as well as BYU. My plan included the study of medical laboratory science so that I could work as a technologist in a hospital setting. My plan was pretty set in stone, I thought. I actually put in my high school yearbook that I was going to go to BYU and that I was going to be a medical technologist. I do not know where this desire to be a medical technologist stemmed from. My father was a pharmacist, so there was a bit of the medical profession influence in my home, but I did not know anyone who worked as a medical technologist.

When I came to BYU I began my classes for the medical laboratory science major. Several semesters of chemistry were required, and I soon learned that I did not really love chemistry as much as a medical laboratory science major should. It was then that I realized my plan would need to change. I visited many colleges on campus and explored a variety of majors. Many were of interest to me. Each week I wrote handwritten letters home to my parents—this was before cell phones, email, and texting—and each week each letter contained a different idea regarding a possible major. I’m not sure what my parents told people I was studying, because I didn’t know what I was studying either.

I did not know which road to take, and when I finished my freshman year I returned home to San Diego, discouraged because I had not settled on a major. Near the end of the summer I received a letter with a BYU return address. It was an acceptance letter from the College of Nursing for the fall semester. In my search for a major I had visited the College of Nursing, but I didn’t realize I had applied. In today’s world I can assure you that would not happen, but what an opportunity that was for me. My plan was changing!

After consulting with my parents I decided to change my major to nursing. This change in my plan has had life-altering effects for forty years. I’ve been a nurse for more than thirty-eight years—now don’t start counting how old I am, but yes, that’s a long time—and I’ve done a variety of other things with my major. I’ve enjoyed the profession of nursing, and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed my time here at BYU. I’m anxious to begin serving in a new role as the dean of the College of Nursing, and I’m sure that after I finish this talk, being dean will cause more anxiety than speaking does right now. But I know I can be of service, and I’m greatly appreciative of the opportunity to do so.

Dad made each of us kids feel special. He loved us and would forgive easily. He did his best to make sure that each of us was happy, and he made it clear that he wanted the best for us. I loved him so much.
When I was in sixth grade, my dad died in a car accident. My family and I were totally devastated. There was a big hole in our family. Dad was the one I leaned on, the one I went to if I was having problems. Instead of seeking help, I let the anger and hurt stay. I finally decided it was God’s fault. I stopped reading my scriptures and saying prayers. I went to church only because Mom wanted me to. I tried to stay far away from my Heavenly Father.
Then I went to Young Women camp for the first time. I liked meeting new friends, but I still didn’t read my scriptures. On the last night, we had a testimony meeting. I felt something I hadn’t in a long time: the Spirit. I admired the girls who got up and bore their testimonies, but I stayed seated because I thought I didn’t have one. All of a sudden I felt like I had to get up. I opened my mouth, wondering what to say. So I said I was glad for Young Women camp. Then I found myself saying that I knew Jesus Christ died for me and that my Heavenly Father loved me and that the Church was true.
I was filled with a remarkable peace. Thanks to this experience I can say that I know I will see my dad again because of the Savior’s Atonement and Resurrection.

Sarah was the only Latter-day Saint girl in her high school. Despite her isolation she dated often. If she wanted to go out with a young man, she would respond to his invitation on condition there would be no smoking, drinking, R- or X-rated movies, nor immorality of any kind. She always set the tone for her dates.
One day, as she stood at her locker at her high school, the “big man on campus” approached her. In his superior manner he said, “If you would lower your standards a little I would love to take you out.”
Her response to his arrogant invitation is a powerful affirmation of the sweet purity of our youth. She replied, “If I went out with you I would be lowering my standards.”

Alice’s mom is a doctor, and her father trains people in first aid. Alice and her family started a youth volunteer team to help people in their area.
First, her parents trained more than 100 teenagers and their parents in first aid. Alice helped too. Next the team gathered more than 3,000 items of clothing for people in need. They also gathered lots of shoes.
The local police were very impressed with their work. They gave the team a table at the market to help them do more good work.
“We believe in God,” Alice says. “So we serve everyone!”

Another experience was related to me recently by one of our priesthood holders. This is what he said:
“I, with my wife and teenage son and daughter, had a very serious car accident. My wife, daughter, and son escaped without any serious injury. The car was totaled. As I was pulled out of the wreck, I was in a state of shock, paralyzed, and semiconscious. The wreckers could not figure out how we came out alive.
“As people came to the scene of the accident, one man ordered them not to move me for fear of causing paralysis. He was the first man on the scene, and as he examined me he found that I was wearing temple garments. He was a Mormon. After seeing me safely in the ambulance and on the way to the next town, he alerted the bishopric; and as I arrived at the hospital the brethren were there to administer to me. The attending physician at the hospital was a stake president.
“For the next week I was on the critical list, and a member of the bishopric insisted that my wife and family stay at his home, taking meals and shelter there. After three or four days my wife and family returned home to Phoenix, and the members of the ward rallied around my family to help wherever they could. One good brother offered the use of his private plane or motor home to bring me back home. We used the motor home, which made it possible for them to slide the stretcher into it.
“When I arrived home there were many friends there to greet me, and my dear friend and member of my priesthood quorum who is a fine physician took care of me. We cannot express our gratitude to those who offered assistance in so many ways, but most definitely we witnessed there the priesthood in action and always will be grateful to be members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints where such brotherhood is fostered.”

Once upon a time, in a very small village, there lived two brothers. Peter, the older brother, was very smart and strong. He did everything well.
He planted his garden in nice straight rows.
He gathered his hay and straw into neat bundles.
He fed his chickens and cow well.
He chopped wood exactly the right size and piled it neatly by his little stove.
He kept his little cottage and the shelters for his animals clean and dry.
Yes, Peter did everything well.
Putter, the younger brother, was also smart and strong, but he did very little well. He played his guitar very nicely, and he sang beautifully, but that is all he did well. People thought Putter was lazy. Peter loved his brother and his brother’s music, so he was content to do most of the work for both of them.
When Putter was little, he followed Peter around as he did his chores.
“Let me help you,” Putter would beg.
Peter would hand him seeds to drop into the straight rows that Peter had plowed. But soon he would yell, “Putter, stop! Your seeds are not exactly the same distance apart. You don’t know how to do this.”
“I can learn,” Putter said.
“I can do it better myself,” said Peter.
When he was a little bigger, Putter got some hay to feed the cow. “Stop!” said Peter. “You’re not taking the right amount, and you’re dropping some on the ground.”
“Show me the right way, and I’ll do it,” cried Putter.
“No, I’ll do it myself. Why don’t you try feeding the chickens.”
Putter scattered corn for the chickens and laughed as they clucked around him. But no sooner had he started than Peter came rushing over to the chicken coop. “Stop!” he yelled. “You’re feeding them too much. They’ll grow swollen and sick, and I’ll run out of chicken feed.”
“Just tell me how much to give them, Brother. I want to help,” said Putter.
“No, you can sing and play, but stay out of my way while I’m working.”
Putter and his cat, Matilda, walked to the oak tree. He sat under it and played his guitar. He sang sweet songs, but he was not happy.
When he grew to be a young man, Putter decided that he must help his brother more, so while Peter was out working, he made a meal for him. He sang while he cooked, and he served Peter a dinner of soup, fresh bread, milk, and apples.
“This soup has too little salt,” said Peter, “and the bread is not crusty enough. My bread isn’t, either, but it’s better than yours. You had best let me do the cooking.”
One day Putter said, “Brother, I am too big and strong to allow you to do all the work and take care of me. I will move to the cottage down the road and have my own little farm.”
“How will you manage?” asked Peter.
“I will learn,” said Putter. He packed his things, picked up his guitar, and set out down the road with Matilda following. He got a cow, some chickens, some seeds, and an ax. He sang while he worked, and he worked very hard. He played his guitar and waited for his garden to grow.
When the green shoots came out of the ground, they were weak and straggly and the rows were very crooked. Some seeds had been planted too deep and didn’t come up at all. Some had been planted too shallow and were washed away by the rain or eaten by the birds.
“Oh dear,” said Putter. “I won’t have enough corn for my chickens. But I see now what I did wrong.”
The hay he planted grew a little, but Putter did not know how to tie and stack it properly or when to bring it in. One night, rain soaked it and made it moldy. “Oh dear,” Putter said. “I worked hard, but now there won’t be enough hay for the cow. However, I see now what I should have done.”
Winter was coming, so Putter chopped wood for his fire. When the snows came, he put some of the wood into his little potbellied stove. But the pieces were too long, and he could not close the door, so the fire burned too quickly, and soon his supply of wood was gone.
Matilda sat beside him while he played a sad song on his guitar. “I’m sorry, Matilda,” he said. “I’m a failure. I must admit my faults and take you and the cow and the chickens to my brother’s home, or we will all starve.”
He knocked on Peter’s door, but his brother did not open it. He knocked again. A weak voice called, “Come in.”
Putter found his brother in bed, looking very ill. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I was chopping wood. One piece was not exactly the right size, and when I trimmed it, the ax slipped, and I cut my foot deeply.”
“How glad I am that I came. I’ll do your chores and care for you until you’re well.”
“Oh dear,” Peter moaned as soon as Putter had gone out to the barn.
Putter tied his thin cow in the stall next to Peter’s fat cow. He looked to see how much hay Peter had set out for his cow, then gave both cows that same amount.
He put his chickens in the yard with Peter’s chickens. He looked at the corn Peter had measured out to feed the chickens, then added another measure just like it to feed all of them.
The sky looked a little stormy, so he gathered the neat piles of hay and straw and put them under shelter.
While Peter slept, Putter made dinner. “This time I will taste the soup so I will use enough salt. And I will butter the top before I bake the bread. That will make it crustier.”
While the soup simmered and the bread baked, Putter gathered apples and milked the cows. He chopped wood, too, remembering to make the pieces smaller.
When Peter awoke, the cottage was warm and cozy and smelled of good things. He heard sweet music and smiled. “I’m very hungry, Brother,” he said.
Peter tasted the meal that Putter had made. “Why, this is fine food, Brother. How did you do it?” Putter just smiled and strummed his guitar.
Peter tried to climb out of bed. “I must feed our cows and the chickens,” he said.
“I have done that already,” said Putter, gently pushing him back into bed.
“But you don’t know how!” Peter exclaimed. “And it’s raining! The hay will be wet—the firewood too.”
“They are dry, and the wood is chopped and stacked by the stove.”
Peter scratched his head. “How did you learn so much so quickly, Brother?”
Putter smiled again. “By my mistakes, I suppose. When I first played my guitar, I made many mistakes. Then I learned what I did wrong, and I improved. But when I made mistakes helping you, you never let me try again. In my little house, I did everything wrong. But God has blessed me with the brains to see my mistakes, and I am learning. Did you never make mistakes before you got so smart, Brother?”
“I suppose I did.” Peter thought a while. “Come to think of it, I’m still making mistakes. I kept my strong, smart brother from helping me, and I cut my own foot trying to be perfect. I’ll probably make more mistakes, but I hope you’ll stay here and help me.”
Putter played a happy tune on his guitar, Matilda curled up by the stove, and Peter smiled and tapped the floor with the foot that didn’t hurt.
“Perhaps you will show me how to make that delicious crusty bread, Brother,” said Peter.
“Of course I will.” Putter’s eyes twinkled as he added, “And if it doesn’t turn out well, I’ll let you try again until you get it right.”

People at the Visitors’ Center will ask us often, “How did you get called to Hawaii, you must’ve known someone!” I explain to them that i was the managing director for the missionary department for many years, and they say, “Ah, that’s the connection.” And i say “Yes, no.” When i retired, Elder Dallin H. Oaks said to me, “What’re your plans?” And i said, “Our plan is to serve a mission.” He said, “Where do you want to serve and what do you want to do?” And I said, “Elder Oaks, we offer no thoughts on where or what. We leave that in the Lord’s hands, and trust that you’ll know where the Lord would have us serve.” So, we were surprised as anyone else when our call letter came and we were invited to come to Hawaii.

The second story is a little closer to home. It involves an eight-year-old grandson. It seems as little Sam, our wonderful grandson, has been collecting Yu-Gi-Oh! Cards (I had not heard of them before and know little about them) and happened to acquire one of the most cherished and sought-after cards called the Blue-eyed White Dragon. A friend learned Sam owned the rare card and attempted to negotiate a trade. After much give and take, a deal was struck between the two boys. Sam would receive a whole stack of his friend’s cards and in turn Sam would surrender the Blue-eyed White Dragon card. During Family Home This evening on the day after conference Sam’s family talked about conference talks. On Sunday, Sam had attended General Conference to render much needed support to his grandfather. Sam, of course, heard the more can be less talk. Late Monday evening Sam came to his mother sobbing. She inquired why he was crying. Between sobs he tearfully said: “Grandpa is right. More is not better. I want the Blue-eyed White Dragon more than all the cards I received in trade.” Mother and son had a soothing conversation.

The rest of the story follows. Unbeknownst to Sam his older brother was a witness to the negotiations and the ultimate trade. He quietly negotiated a trade himself. By parting with a popular toy he gained possession of the valuable card. He didn’t share his secret with Sam. On Tuesday morning Sam asked his mother if it would be OK if he went to his friend and asked him to reverse the trade. Sam’s wise mother said, “You can ask but know that you likely will not be successful and remember a deal is a deal.” It was when he approached his friend that Sam learned his own brother was the owner of the favorite card. Appropriate arrangements were made, and now Sam has resumed ownership of the much revered Blue-eyed White Dragon and is also much wiser when it comes to more may not necessarily be better.

I wanted to write to testify how true a paragraph is in “Hold On” (Oct. 1992). It says “Pornography is especially dangerous and addictive.” The article goes on to say pornography breaks down your self-discipline and causes you to become desensitized. This is so true. I was seven when I started reading pornographic magazines. Over time, it just became all consuming. I started stealing, using drugs and alcohol, and I committed rape. I’m getting treatment for my problems, and I am working on repenting for what I’ve done. But it’s a long way back. For me, pornography has been more addictive than any drug. I encourage everyone to not learn the way I did.
Name Withheld

Last week I received a letter from a single mother, a part of which I wish to read to you. She says as follows:
“It has been 10 years since you mentioned our family in October conference in 1996. … The words of counsel and encouragement that you gave to me and other single sisters have been a pattern used in my daily life. The phrase that has become my motto and watchword [is] ‘Do the very best you can,’ and that is indeed what my sons and I are trying to do.
“All four of my sons graduated from high school and seminary. Two of them served full-time missions. We are all working to provide for ourselves and continue to be true and faithful in the gospel. It is a great feeling to know that we have made it on our own for the past several years. … There is a certain feeling of accomplishment when you can once again stand on your own two feet and provide for your family’s needs. …
“I was encouraged to go back to college. … It is a real challenge to work full-time and attend classes at night. It has broadened my perspective on life and helped me to be a better person. My family, ward members, and co-workers have been very supportive. I will graduate this December.
“As I pondered my patriarchal blessing and made it a matter of fasting and prayer, I was able to set some realistic goals in my life that have been used as a road map to keep me on track with the principles of the gospel. I attend my meetings, pray daily, and pay my tithing. I … take my calling as a visiting teacher very seriously. …
“The Church is true, and it is an honor and a privilege to be counted as a worthy and blessed member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We are led by inspiration from a loving Heavenly Father, who knows us and wants us to progress and grow. I thank you for your kind words of encouragement 10 years ago, and for the many continuing words of inspiration that come from the Lord through His servants. I know I am a child of God and my life is blessed by my membership in His Church.”

A few years ago we were in a financial position to purchase a new vehicle. I had always wanted a particular truck brand and with the help of my youngest son we chose a nice four door truck. Shortly after buying this shiny new truck, I was returning home late one evening from the chapel and heard something hit the right side of the truck. It sounded like a rock. When I got home, I checked the truck and was relieved to see it hadn’t been a rock which could have caused some noticeable damage. It was just a raw egg that hit my truck. I decided it could wait until the morning to be cleaned. Well, the next morning came and I forgot about cleaning it. Several days later I remembered my commitment to clean off the remnants of the raw egg. When I went outside to do the cleaning, I was surprised to see the area where I had intended on simply wiping off the raw egg. The velocity at which the egg was thrown plus elapsed time plus the heat of the noon day sun had taken a toll on the area where the egg hit the truck. What remained was an imprint of a shattered eggshell etched into the paint of our new truck. I purchased car paint from a store and tried to match it to the truck. It was off by a few shades and I couldn’t get the smoothness or shine to match the brand new truck. Although I could have paid extra money to have the work professionally done, we decided to just let it be. So it remained an obvious mismatch for many years. In retrospect, my early attention to this matter would have most likely had favorable results. My postponed inattention to this matter left a long lasting reminder to tend to our commitments early.

One day during my junior year of high school, my friend Nedra asked me, “Russ, why aren’t you going to seminary?”
At that time, my parents were not attending church. I attended only occasionally with my friends, and I did not participate in seminary. The next day, I attended seminary at 6:30 a.m. After that, I went every day—even on cold, snowy winter mornings.
The things I learned in seminary touched my heart. My testimony grew as I learned more about Jesus Christ and His restored gospel. This prepared me to serve my mission in England and to continue in a lifetime of service to the Lord and His Church.
Nedra’s inviting me to seminary helps me see, in a personal way, that there are countless opportunities for you to help others come unto the Lord Jesus Christ. In simple but powerful ways, you can show your love, share your beliefs, and invite those around you to experience the joy and peace the Savior and His gospel bring.

A young woman sat across from me describing what seemed to her to be a “hopeless” marriage. She had been married in the temple only a few short months before, but things just weren’t working out. The romance was disappearing, she said; her attraction to her husband had been lost in the daily responsibilities of living. When I asked why he hadn’t come with her, she replied that he didn’t see any problem in their relationship. “He’s really a good man,” she said, “but I’m just not committed to him anymore. My love is gone.”
I have thought many times since that day about commitment in marriage. The Savior taught the principle of commitment when he answered the Pharisees, saying, “For this cause shall a man leave father and mother, and shall cleave to his wife. … What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.” (Matt. 19:5–6.) The word cleave is a powerful action word meaning to adhere closely.
Love is the necessary ingredient in cleaving to one’s spouse. “Thou shalt love thy wife with all thy heart,” the Lord said, “and shalt cleave unto her and none else.” (D&C 42:22.) However, the term love has different meanings to different people. To some, love is only an emotional and physical attraction accompanied by romantic idealization. To them, love doesn’t necessarily include the important concepts of commitment and cleaving. To others, love is the quiet, steady feeling that develops between people when they share important life experiences. Both kinds of love are important; both contribute to good marriages. But in many cases, romantic love is overplayed, while the commitment that leads to true cleaving is lacking.
As a young missionary in the Republic of South Korea, I was impressed with the quality of many of the Korean people’s marriages. When I was told that the marriages were arranged by parents, I wondered how two people could cleave so well without having first developed romantic love toward each other. Because of the narrow view I had at the time of commitment in marriage, I thought romantic feelings were the sole binding force.
But I learned some basic principles about committed love as I observed those marriages. I learned that when two people work with each other to produce a home, when they struggle to keep children fed and healthy—then love occurs. When illness or adversity strikes and one spouse sacrifices to help and care for the other—then they learn to love. When husband and wife are progressing together spiritually and emotionally—then love grows. Love, I learned, comes as the marriage, and the marriage partners, develop.
How then can a married couple foster commitment to each other?
Crises can build strong marriage. It is unfortunate that some couples see struggles in marriage as an excuse to escape. Too often they fall into blaming each other for the stresses rather than relying on each other for affection and support. Trials in life can serve as a foundation to committed love.
Recently my wife and children were very ill from an unusual bacterial infection. I gave them blessings and prayed for them. Then, not wanting to expose anyone else to their sickness, I arranged my work schedule to be able to be home to care for their needs. It was soon apparent that my acts of service to help them through three weeks of illness became a strong binding force for us. Such struggles in life sometimes push marital partners apart, but crises can serve as the training ground for commitment. We often perform such acts of service because we are committed beforehand, but in many instances service precedes commitment. It is in serving each other that we become committed to each other.
The marital relationship is much like raising rare, beautiful flowers. You plant the seed and nourish it with water, food, soil, and light. If the delicate balance of these ingredients is upset, the growth and beauty of the flower may be disturbed for a time. But working to achieve a balance of required nutrition, you can overcome the problem. Commitment to the flower comes as you take care of its needs and try to help it grow into beauty.
President Spencer W. Kimball has discussed the relationship between marital love and adversity: “a marriage may not always be even and incidentless, but it can be one of great peace,” he has promised. “A couple may have poverty, illness, disappointment, failures, and even death in the family, but even these will not rob them of their peace. The marriage can be successful so long as selfishness does not enter in. Troubles and problems will draw parents together into unbreakable unions if there is total unselfishness there. During the depression of the 1930s there was a definite drop in divorce. Poverty, failures, disappointment—they tied parents together. Adversity can cement relationships that prosperity can destroy.” (Marriage and Divorce, Deseret Book, 1976. pp. 19, 22.)
In my own marriage I have made a very conscious decision to not let outside struggles drive me from my wife. I have learned that, besides the Lord, she is my greatest support in any crisis. If I allow fears and irritations about a problem to divide us, I have excluded the person who could best help me turn the crisis into a strength.
Even when a couple experiences a division between them, working toward a shared goal can revive the ties that bind them together. Too often couples negatively emphasize the differences between them. It is more important to emphasize shared aspirations and work toward them.
I learned this principle as a Boy Scout leader in a struggle to get two groups of boys to change their negative attitudes toward each other. After trying several unsuccessful strategies, I placed them in a situation which required cooperation to overcome an obstacle. They united to achieve a common goal, and we never experienced conflict between the two groups after that day.
Recently I listened as a couple complained that they had few interests in common. She liked to read; he didn’t. He played racquetball, but physical problems kept her from doing so. The list of differences went on and on. I asked if there wasn’t just one interest they shared. They shook their heads. Finally I suggested they take a ceramics class together. Neither had tried anything like that, so it gave them a new, common interest. The effect was unbelievable. As they worked toward a common goal, the excitement of growing together helped them gradually forget their differences.
It would be wise for all of us to ask the following question frequently: “What have I done recently to improve my spouse’s feelings about himself or herself?” By deciding to enhance one another’s self-esteem, we become very committed to each other; the other’s improvement in the way they feel becomes our success as well. In addition, we need to be willing to help our partners grow in whatever area they might desire. Spouses need to encourage each other in spiritual pursuits, intellectual development, and physical fitness. It is important to encourage them, rather than discourage them by nagging remarks and demands. When we accept the goal of helping our spouse grow in a chosen area, we will experience the commitment to that person which accompanies such an attitude.
Nurturing also means finding strengths rather than weaknesses in our spouse. One of the recurring differences in studies of happily married couples compared to marriages in trouble is the amount of positive daily conversation. A good rule is to make at least two-thirds of our conversations with our spouse pleasant, positive, and nurturing to both. Problems need to be talked about and worked through, but to spend all of our time together solving problems isn’t appealing in any relationship.
“He that loveth his wife loveth himself. For no man ever yet hated his own flesh; but nourisheth it and cherisheth it.” (Eph. 5:28–29.) It is extremely difficult to be committed to our husband or wife when we feel we have nothing to offer. Just as we can’t focus primarily on our spouse’s weaknesses, we should strive to give positive messages to ourselves.
We sometimes have degrading conversations within ourselves. Listening to the thoughts and feelings that enter our minds when we look in the mirror, meet someone for the first time, or complete a task can be a key in determining the degree of love we have for ourselves. Replacing negative thoughts with positive ones can increase our self-love. Another assignment that has benefitted many individuals is to imagine themselves behaving in successful and positive ways.
We never know all there is to discover about anyone. Even though we may be married to someone for a lifetime, that someone is growing and changing. This fact makes marriage exciting—there are always delightful new things to learn about our spouse if we search for them.
One husband was recently astonished at the depth of his wife’s knowledge about political candidates. She had studied the issues and analyzed each candidate’s stand. He gained a new respect for her in his attempts to learn from her study. Another couple spends time sharing the books each reads. The husband doesn’t have as much time to read, but he enjoys her sharing what she reads. The nicest part is that he learns a great deal about his wife’s values and feelings through their discussions. This keeps their marriage vibrant and stimulating.
Some parents become closer to their children than to each other. Children might even try to get one parent to side with them against the other. When this occurs, it does not help the child or the parents.
Likewise, people and activities outside the family can have a stronger hold on us than our wives or husbands. Work, leisure, and friends can interfere with the strength of the marital commitment. It is important to guard against this by planning and taking time to talk and be together as a couple.
Anniversaries are significant events because they symbolize the marital commitment. Other events and places associated with the marriage or courtship can also become symbolic. By renewing acts such as giving flowers, writing notes, or observing special celebrations, couples are reminded of their bond. Some couples plan a time when they can leave the children with a competent babysitter for a weekend and get away. These practices serve to strengthen “cleaving together.”
At a very young age I realized my father and mother loved each other very much. It became evident in the symbols that represented their bond. Their anniversary was an event marked with great celebration. At other times of the year, outward symbols served to renew their marital commitment. The look on my mother’s face when my father presented her with a dozen red roses is indelibly painted in my mind. The symbol was powerful in my life, and my parents renewed the event many times as I grew older.
On my own wedding day, we also selected roses to represent our special occasion. Thus we continued a tradition that symbolized commitment, a symbol I had loved to witness in my parents.
Celestial living involves a never ending marital commitment. The life that results from obedience to gospel principles is one of service and compassion to one’s spouse and family. When a man and woman are married for eternity, they decide that they can better progress spiritually together than either could alone. The temple marriage does not promise to erase the struggles of married life, but it does offer the potential for commitment that can be achieved in no other way.

Mrs. Chen looks like she could use some help.
Let’s carry her grocery bags!
You have a lot of vegetables in here!
I’m making vegetable soup tonight. Maybe I could make some for your family too.
Sounds tasty!
Thanks!
Matt and Mandy keep helping Mrs. Chen each week. She shares fun stories from her childhood.
Once when I was your age, I got stuck in a tree!
My dad got a ladder to help me down.
Matt and Mandy share stories too. Helping others leads to friendship!

Sisterhood was something I would have avoided at times. But there were other times—times like my graduation night—when I realized that being a sister is not so much a formal title as a shared history.
Diane and Mary, my two older sisters, had tried for years to transform me. They were both experts in applying makeup, styling hair, and selecting the latest fashions. I was a constant embarrassment to them because the only thing I really cared about was freedom and comfort. If it didn’t feel good, I avoided it.
Even as a child, I had felt a duty to free paper ladies frozen in a glamorous pose. I regularly cut my paper dolls up to their navel so they could run. I knew beauty came with freedom, not restriction. I believed I had seen beauty, the whole of it, in my backyard. A bird slicing through the evening sky and the wind washing through the trees were my teachers.
These two older sisters had worked on me for 18 years without success. It had been a valiant effort. Then came the early evening before my high school seminary graduation.
I was downstairs in my bedroom looking through the closet for something nice to wear. I was going to be one of the speakers and wanted to look at least presentable. My closet was full of hand-me-downs from Diane and Mary.
It had never bothered me until then. It was the end of the month, and the family paycheck wasn’t able to stretch quite far enough to include a new graduation dress for me.
I understood. Being raised in the middle of nine children teaches one to understand a lot of things, but sometimes it doesn’t take away the wishing. I was wishing I had a new dress to wear.
I selected a nice navy blue dress with a white lace collar and pearl buttons. It had been Mary’s graduation dress two years ago, and it would just have to do.
After I zipped up the dress, I slipped on a pair of dressy black shoes. They were worn down at the heel and fit the foot form of their previous owner, my older sister Diane. They would have to do.
I grabbed my speech and walked upstairs ready to leave. When I got to the head of the stairs, I saw Diane and Mary standing together smiling. Each of them was holding a package wrapped with fancy paper and bows like the expensive department stores used. Most of our family presents were wrapped in paper and bows my mom had saved from previous birthdays and holidays. We were taught to unwrap carefully.
I took the presents from each sister as they put their arms around me and kissed me on both cheeks. The first present was large and rectangular. I opened the gift slowly, being careful not to rip the wrapping paper under the tape. When I lifted the lid and folded back the tissue paper, a bright yellow chiffon dress with lace and pleats on the front yoke shone out with the same warmth as the smiles on my sisters’ faces. The next box held a pair of bright yellow shoes with bows, an exact match.
“Run downstairs and put them on,” Diane said.
“Hurry or you’ll be late,” Mary added.
I ran back downstairs and put on my new outfit. A middle child in a large family never gets a pair of bright yellow shoes. It’s just not practical.
Diane was now a newlywed struggling to pay a huge medical debt after her first baby died of a heart defect. Mary was now a college student working hard to earn her tuition. I knew the money to buy that dress and shoes had not come easily.
When I stood up to give my speech that night, I was clothed in something more than new clothes. It wasn’t so much just the dress as it was a whole shared history before it—the missing combs, midnight talks on the double bed, the letter tucked under my pillow after I lost the election, holding hands when they lowered the tiny casket into the ground at the cemetery, crowded bathrooms and tied-up telephones. I learned that night that a sister was more than I had ever supposed.