Gospel Story Finder

A personal experience illustrates how the Spirit teaches us through our feelings, even those persons who may not be familiar with the process of revelation.

About 11 years ago three elected deputies of the Supreme Soviet visited Salt Lake City. I helped host them on Temple Square. I took them into the North Visitors’ Center to see the paintings and the Christus statue. Then I took them into the Tabernacle, where they heard the Sunday morning Tabernacle Choir broadcast.

Afterward a few of us met with them in a conference room on Temple Square. We told them a little bit about the Church. Then Konstantin Lubenchenko, the senior in the delegation, spoke to us. I made notes of his remarks as they were relayed through an interpreter: "Before I came here I thought the Mormon Church was a very conservative organization of fanatics. But after seeing the beautiful pictures and statue in your visitors’ center and the beautiful setting where the choir sang and hearing the choir and organ, I have a new understanding of your church."

What interested me most was his account of what he felt: "Since I have come to the United States, people have asked me what is my strongest impression in the United States. I can tell you now. It is the singing of your choir. I love organ music and choirs and have gone to hear them many times in my country. As the choir sang, I had a very strong feeling. Although I do not speak English, I felt with my heart that they were sincerely expressing my feelings. My relation with God was expressed in earthly feelings through their singing."

This Soviet lawmaker had a feeling and could describe it well enough for me to realize that he had received a witness from the Spirit.

There are many ways we can serve the Lord daily. However, one of the most powerful ways we can serve Him is to share the gospel with others. I am so very grateful for the missionaries who taught my parents the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.

A few years after my parents had married and moved to Las Vegas, they had some concerns about moving into a house on Lacy Lane, partly because there were so many Mormons living on that street. Two months after that move, four-year-old Joni Christensen, a Mormon, invited my older sister, Tami, to attend a Primary Halloween party, and since Tami and Joni were such good friends, my sister also began attending midweek Primary activities.

Shortly following the party and after my father was asked the golden question by a coworker, two stake missionaries, Faye Boyd and Muriel Hammond, showed up at my parents’ home. My father told the missionaries he wasn’t a good prospect for their church, but he did want to know what they were teaching his daughter in Primary. The missionaries were probably thrilled to hear that!

My mother relates her feelings about the message these missionaries brought:

The second time they came to the home, it was the most unbelievable experience. As they were giving [us] the discussion, it was just like a light-bulb experience. I just knew in the depths of my soul that what I had been looking for all of my life I had finally found at the age of 21—that this was the gospel that I had searched so hard to find.

At this time she was pregnant with me. She recalls:

I just barely was pregnant with Tina. I wasn’t quite sure, but pretty sure. And so I tried to get out of the baptism by telling the missionaries that I would catch cold because it was December. It was down at the old First Ward chapel, and I didn’t want to catch cold. . . . And then they said that no one has ever caught cold from being baptized.

Within five weeks [we] had entered the waters of baptism, and my life would never be the same again. It’s by far the most important thing I ever did, and “sweet is the peace the gospel brings.” I searched so long and so hard, and when I found the gospel it was so sweet.

Sister Boyd and Sister Hammond served the Lord “moment by moment,” and by so doing they changed my parents’ lives in such wonderful ways. In turn, my life has been blessed, and I hope that “moment by moment” I can bless the lives of others.

Ron, 16, sat in his early morning seminary class wondering what to do with feelings of discomfort that were welling up inside him. He had attended this class for about two months. His dislike seemed to grow day by day.
Ron took seminary because he knew that his parents wanted him there. He didn’t want to disappoint them. His bishop had also encouraged him to be actively involved in the program. Even so, he was unhappy and uncomfortable in class.
As Brother Jones talked about the gospel of love, Ron didn’t really listen. He could only think of the times he felt Brother Jones had put him down in class because Ron’s ideas had not seemed to agree with his. Ron also knew that some of the other class members felt this same way, but no one seemed to know what to do about it.
On the other hand, some of the members of the class seemed to be perfectly at ease and quite comfortable. Ron often wondered if something might be wrong with himself. He knew he shouldn’t judge others, but little by little his dislike for Brother Jones grew. In moments like these he felt guilty for his feelings toward his seminary teacher.
Being out of tune is usually associated with the field of music and refers to discord or the clashing of musical sounds and lack of agreement between notes in a chord. One can also be out of tune with life. In these instances it may be defined as a clashing of beliefs and attitudes. You can feel out of tune with yourself if you believe one way and behave another. Your behavior and your beliefs will lack agreement, and you will experience discomfort. In some instances we find ourselves faced with ideas, behavior, and attitudes from important people that clash with our own. Ron, the seminary student, is experiencing being out of tune. He senses discord and lack of agreement between himself and Brother Jones.
Every person attempts to put himself in situations that are in agreement with the way he feels about himself and the way others feel toward him. This reduces the uncomfortable feeling. When a person finds himself in a situation where there is disagreement between his own feelings and the feelings of others, he will often want to escape from it. Ron does not see any possible escape from the seminary class, and so he sits, feeling more and more uncomfortable. The more frustrated and confused Ron feels, the more distance he feels between himself and Brother Jones, and the more uncomfortable he is. What should he do and what are some of the possible consequences?
In life there are very few situations where an individual has only two choices. Usually if we take the time and do some thinking, we can come up with several. Some of the choices may be better than others. Ron’s is such a case. There are several ways he can move to rid himself of the discomfort he is experiencing.
He may simply drop the class or refuse to attend. By so doing he would not have to face Brother Jones and feel the discomfort every day. A social scientist would refer to this way of handling discomfort as “flight.” There are some disadvantages to this choice. Should Ron choose to drop the seminary class, he may hurt his parents by disappointing them. He may also cause some concern for the bishop, to the point that the bishop might call Ron in to find out why the change was made, thus putting another kind of pressure on him. Yet Ron can choose to drop out in spite of these consequences.
Another choice open to Ron is to rebel against Brother Jones and to act out his frustrations and feelings right in class. This method of solving problems might be referred to as a “fight” process. This choice may tend to relieve Ron of some of his discomfort, or he may have even more discomfort as a result. Such a choice might cause Brother Jones to resort to the use of power, and he might dismiss Ron from the class. Should he do this, Ron would face the same disadvantages and consequences as he did with choice number one.
As a third choice he can simply attempt to ignore the feelings he is having and to stick it out. The disadvantage here is that Ron hasn’t been able to ignore his feelings, and they are, in fact, becoming worse from day to day. If Ron chooses to do nothing, we can predict with a good deal of confidence that his attitudes toward other teachers and Church programs will become more negative. (This very real danger is illustrated in a recent study that examined some general attitudes of a group of early-morning seminary students toward the Church programs and teachers. The study indicated that if a student had some feelings of dissatisfaction in one area of the Church, these feelings tended to carry over into other areas.)
A fourth alternative to Ron’s dilemma is for him to work out a way of dealing directly with the problem so that his uncomfortable feelings will be reduced. There are several possible ways of doing this, but before discussing some of these, let’s examine some other ideas for working out problems.
When we come into contact with an idea that agrees with the way we feel, we can easily accept it. If, however, we come into contact with an idea that does not agree with the way we feel, someone needs to make some changes. We either have to change something about the idea itself or change our attitude toward it. If neither changes, we begin to feel quite uncomfortable. Ron is in this situation right now. He is very uncomfortable. If he fails to accept the situation with Brother Jones, he will remain in this uncomfortable state, and things will likely get worse. He must do something, but from what we have discussed, he is not able to drop out of the class because such an action will not solve the problem nor really relieve the source of the negative and uncomfortable feelings.
Ron’s feelings are real. His problem is real. He wants to do the right thing, but he just doesn’t know what that right thing is. He wants to be in seminary, but he finds that he is very uncomfortable there. Something has to change. In Ron’s case he can change his attitude or change the seminary teacher, or change both, but Ron should realize that it is difficult to change another person very much. Even in the face of the difficulty of changing self or another, Ron must realize his best course of action is to act.
We cannot give Ron specific solutions to his problems. We can, however, offer some suggestions. It is up to each individual to determine the direction of his personal efforts. In this case prayer would be a good first action. Ron should do as the scriptures suggest and “ask of God.”
Another suggestion that might help Ron find the comfort he is seeking is for him to express his feelings. He needs to go to the other person and there seek to solve his problem. The Savior suggested this process in his Sermon on the Mount when he told us to go to the person with whom we are having problems and to make things right with him before attempting to do other things, even though these other things need and ought to be done.
For Ron this means that perhaps he should find the opportunity to approach Brother Jones and discuss with him the feelings that are there. If this is too threatening, perhaps Ron can go to his parents and share his feelings. On the basis of their acceptance and understanding, he can then approach Brother Jones. If Ron wishes to seek further counsel, he may seek the help and understanding from his bishop or priesthood leader.
Another solution might be for Ron to take a good look at himself and see where he might possibly change his attitude and behavior. Again, the scriptures give us evidence of this type of approach. The situation is not the same, but the process can be applied in both instances. When Christ was questioned as to whether or not he was preaching his own gospel, he responded with these words: “If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself.” (John 7:17.) If we apply this to Ron’s situation, we are suggesting that Ron should examine his basic attitudes toward Brother Jones long enough to really attempt to gain something out of the class. He should attempt to find out what Brother Jones’s will is with respect to him as a class member. Next, Ron should attempt to do Brother Jones’s will and see if his negative feelings leave. He may well determine that the problem is due to his own attitudes and not just to the behavior of the teacher.
Another positive approach open to Ron is to attempt to determine in his own mind what is wrong with the class in general, rather than with himself or Brother Jones. Once this determination is made, he may be able to approach Brother Jones with some suggestions on how the class might be made more enjoyable for more of the students. If this choice is followed, Ron may find that he can be a real asset to the class and improve the relationship between himself and Brother Jones at the same time. If Ron were to accept this challenge, he might learn for himself the great truth found in the Savior’s words that a person can find his life by losing it in the service of others.
One thing is for certain: Ron must do something. The longer this situation is allowed to go on, the more complicated it becomes and the greater the danger that this negative attitude will carry over into other areas of his life. Ron must make a decision of some kind. Suggestions have been made for positive and constructive choices. He should make his choice(s) on the basis of his own feelings and thoughts. Once the decision is made, he should then take it to the Lord for confirmation. Such were the directions given to Oliver Cowdery in section 9 of the Doctrine and Covenants, and they can be just as applicable for us today. If this process is followed, Ron can be assured he has made the right decision, and the “I’m uncomfortable” feeling will vanish.

Needing income, Henry and his father went downriver to St. Louis, Missouri, to find jobs. His father joined George Betts’s shoe shop, which employed 25 men. Henry took a job at a small shop belonging to three LDS shoemakers. His mother and sisters joined them in St. Louis in the spring.
Henry’s good friends from Nauvoo, Algernon and John Rigdon, visited him in his new home. Their father, who had been Joseph Smith’s counselor, had decided to leave the Church and was moving to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. In “the last conversation that I had with them as we were saying good-bye,” Henry said, “the boys declared that they would return to the Church. … Knowing they were … sincere, I expected for some years to hear from them but was disappointed.” (John Rigdon rejoined the Church in 1904 just before he died.)

Dad called everybody to the computer. Lucy dropped the stuffed giraffe she was playing with and hurried over. What was going on? Was it time to call Grandma online?

Dad pointed to the computer screen. “I wanted to show you part of a talk from general conference.”

Lucy squinted. It wasn’t Grandma. It was President Eyring! He was in the First Presidency.

Dad pushed “play.” President Eyring taught about supporting your Church leaders. He explained how Church leaders need us to pray for them.

“That’s why we pray for the prophet. Right, Dad?” asked her little brother, David. Dad and Mom both nodded.

“Yes, we do,” Dad said. “But I also keep thinking about our branch presidency. I think they need our prayers too.”

Lucy loved President Alvarez and his counselors. They were always so nice to her. She wanted to help them.

“I’m going to pray for them,” Lucy said. “And we can pray for them in our family prayers too!”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Mom said. “Let’s do it.”

For the next few days, Lucy tried hard to remember to pray for the branch presidency whenever she said a prayer. It only took a few extra seconds each time. Easy!

The next Sunday in sacrament meeting, President Alvarez stood up after the hymn. Then he said something that made Lucy’s eyes get wide.

“As a branch presidency, we wanted to thank you for praying for us,” he said. “We have felt very real strength from those prayers. We really need your faith and prayers to do our callings. Thank you!”

Lucy grinned. She looked over at David. He was smiling too. She couldn’t believe it! She was so excited that she could hardly sit still. She leaned over and tugged on Mom’s sleeve.

“Mom!” she whispered. “Did you hear what President Alvarez said?!” She wanted to jump up and down. “It worked! Our prayers really worked!”

After church, Lucy and her family walked home together.

“God really does hear our prayers,” Mom said. “And isn’t it amazing to see how powerful it is for a group of people to pray for someone else?”

Lucy felt warm and happy inside. She and David skipped down the sidewalk while Mom and Dad walked behind them. She knew Heavenly Father had heard her family’s prayers. They were truly making a difference. Just by praying!

That night, Lucy got ready to say her prayers. She thought about her Primary teacher and other Church leaders who could use some extra blessings. Maybe she would pray for them too! Lucy folded her arms and bowed her head. She knew just what to say.

When the recess bell rang, Grace hurried toward the slide with Samantha.
Chloe came running behind them. “Grace, let’s play zookeeper on the jungle gym.”
“We’re playing on the slide,” Grace said. “Want to come? We can all play together.”
“No, we can’t,” Chloe said. “You have to pick Samantha or me.”
Grace frowned. “But I already told Samantha …”
“Fine!” Chloe said, and she stomped away.
Grace walked with Samantha toward the slide. They heard Chloe’s voice behind them. She was talking to the teacher on recess duty, Mrs. Haskins.
“Grace says she doesn’t want to play with me,” Chloe said.
Grace whirled around. “That’s not what I—”
“Let’s be nice, girls,” Mrs. Haskins said.
So Grace played with Chloe, and Samantha played with someone else.
Grace thought back to the beginning of the year when she met Chloe. They played together almost every day at recess. Now Grace was getting to know the other children in her class. But Chloe got upset when Grace played with someone else. Maybe Grace could hide from Chloe at recess or tell her she didn’t want to be friends anymore. But that wouldn’t be kind.
As Mom drove home from school, Grace sighed.
“That sounds like a sad sigh,” Mom said. “What’s wrong?”
Grace told Mom about Chloe. “Friends shouldn’t be annoying, should they?”
“Do you think Chloe is trying to be annoying?” Mom asked.
“No, I don’t think so,” Grace said.
“Do you think you should tell Chloe she’s annoying?” Mom asked.
Grace pictured herself telling Chloe. She imagined that Chloe’s face would look very sad.
“No,” Grace said. “That doesn’t seem right.”
“Maybe you’ll need to work on not feeling annoyed with Chloe,” Mom said. “That’s a hard thing to do. Maybe you can think of some ideas and we can talk about it again at bedtime.”
That afternoon, Grace sat thinking. She needed some ideas for being patient with Chloe.
Then Grace remembered something. Her teacher, Mrs. Rosario, had shown the class a fun way to think of ideas. Mrs. Rosario called it an idea web.
Grace grabbed a piece of paper and wrote Chloe’s name in the center. Then she circled it and drew four lines coming out of the circle. At the end of each line, Grace wrote one thing she liked about Chloe.
Good imagination
Fun to play with
Loves animals
Fast runner
Grace decided that when she felt annoyed with Chloe, she could think of the reasons she liked Chloe.
At bedtime, Grace showed Mom the paper.
“What a great idea,” Mom said.
“I just thought of something else,” Grace said. “I could give this paper to Chloe at school tomorrow.”
“Another great idea,” Mom said. “I knew you’d think of something.”
At recess the next day, Grace headed outside.
“Chloe!” Grace called. “I have something for you!” Grace handed the paper to Chloe.
“It’s an idea web, isn’t it?” Chloe said.
“Yes,” Grace said. “Those are things I like about you.”
“Thanks,” Chloe said with a smile. “This is so cool.”
Even though the wind was chilly, Grace felt warm and happy as she played with Chloe. When the bell rang, Chloe looked at the paper again.
“I’m going to make an idea web for you,” she said to Grace. “And maybe tomorrow we could show Samantha how to play zookeeper.”
Grace smiled. Tomorrow would be another great day.

We sat huddled on the wet lawn in front of the Joseph Smith Monument in Sharon, Vermont—the birthplace of the Prophet. Draped in ponchos in a vain attempt to keep dry, we strained to hear our leader over the sound of the rain. Shortly, we would finish our final activity—a few moments alone in the woods, meditating and doing some self-evaluation.
The idea really excited me. Earlier, a speaker had related to us a story about President David O. McKay receiving his patriarchal blessing. Thirteen-year-old David was, at the time, a champion marble player. After the blessing, the patriarch told David that he had more important things to do than play marbles. I felt that now, too, was the time for me to “put away my marbles” and decide what to do with my life. A big part of that decision depended on knowing if the Church was true. I decided to ask our Heavenly Father.
The world seemed to fall silent as I entered the woods. With my poncho pulled around me to protect me from the rain, I found a secluded spot and sang some hymns to myself. Then I read the scriptures for a while. When I felt ready, I knelt to pray.
I was excited to pray, but I was also nervous. I had felt the Spirit before—in fast and testimony meetings and when I had received a testimony of the Book of Mormon—but I couldn’t honestly say that I knew the Church was true. What if I prayed and there was just nothing? What if, out here in the woods, kneeling and praying aloud got me nothing but wet?
But I decided that I had to try. So I knelt on the soggy leaves and bowed my head in prayer. I spoke in a whisper, fearful that someone might eavesdrop, and asked very simply to know if I really belonged to God’s true church. I finished my prayer and remained kneeling, awaiting an answer.
At first, I received an impression that I already knew the Church was true. But I figured that must have been my own thoughts, so I prayed again.
“You already know,” came the answer again, along with the warm and calm feeling of the Spirit enveloping me with peace and joy.
My heart quickened, and I couldn’t hold back the smile that covered my face. I realized that through seminary and my personal study, I had built my testimony step by step, precept upon precept, so slowly that I hadn’t even realized I had it.
I had a testimony of the Church, and I could now put aside the less important things in my life and get on with my spiritual growth. I felt so relieved, so content, and so grateful that I knew personally that the Church was true. Still kneeling, I bowed my head again and gave a prayer of thanks to Heavenly Father for his witness that, although I hadn’t recognized it before, I already knew.

The third decision that I made for which I am very grateful was a decision that also happened to me at that time. The bishop of the Oxford ward then called me to be the young men’s president. We had 48 young men in the Oxford ward, only one of whom was active. I had no idea how I was going to carry on my course of study and do anything near a capable job as a young men’s president. But what I decided to do is that I would get up every morning at 7:00 a.m. and focus on applied econometrics until 6:00 p.m., and then thereafter I would focus on being a Young Men’s President. In the midst of this, I learned that my father was dieing of cancer, and I dropped out of school for a time to come back home and take care of him until he passed away. When I got back, that meant that I even had less time to try to finish a very ambitious degree, and I thought to myself, ‘Maybe I’d better ask the bishop to release me because it would just take too much time away from my study.’ But then I thought, ‘No, if I know the Book of Mormon is true, then I better do what it says,’ and it had told me in 3 Nephi 13:33 that I should seek first the kingdom of God in His righteousness and all these things would be added unto me. And so that’s what I did. I bought a bicycle, and every night from six to nine, I rode around the streets of Oxford looking up these 47 inactive young men, inviting them to join us at church, and ultimately six of them did.
We met (the Oxford ward did) in a meeting room in the top of a pub. If Lucifer had picked our meeting spot, he couldn’t have done better. The only place for the Aaronic priesthood to meet was at the top landing of the back staircase where they stored the kegs of Guinness ale. And so we arranged the kegs in a semi-circle every Sunday and sat on the kegs. I fasted every Sunday that somehow the Lord would bring into that awful environment a wonderful spirit that would touch these young men’s hearts, and it did. All six of those young men served missions. But it was a big bite out of my studies, and as the time for my final exams arrived, I was really worried that I might not be able to pass, because in the Oxford system there aren’t any courses that you take. You just continuously study your subject and at the very end of the course you have to take a big, long, four day, 32 hour examination where you have to put it out all on paper. My tutor told me that I wasn’t prepared, that I better wait and graduate the next year, but I knew that if I had gone and done the things that the Lord commanded that he would open a way for me to pass the test. So I fasted and prayed and told the Lord I had two months left. I needed to know what questions the examiners were going to ask so that I could study the questions and pass the exam. I then prayerfully went to the library and put myself in the examiners shoes, and thought about, ‘If I wanted to really skewer Clayton Christensen, what questions and curve balls would I throw at him on this exam?’ Then for two months I studied to know the answers to those questions.
The night before the exam, I went off to one of the meadows at Oxford and knelt in prayer, and I poured my heart out to the Lord, and I recounted how hard I had worked to study economics, and how hard I had worked to magnify my calling as the Young Men’s President. And I plead with Him that He would bless me. And the next day, as I opened the exams, every one of the questions that the examiners threw at me was a question that I had come to know that they would ask. And the lesson that I learned from this is that when Heavenly Father invited us to seek first the kingdom of God, and promises us that all these other things will be added to us that He was dead serious. That is a promise that we can bank on.

In the early ’90s, before Melbourne had a temple, our stake hired a bus once a month to take us to the Sydney Australia Temple.

In preparation, I would ensure my visiting teaching was done. One Tuesday evening before a Friday bus trip, my companion and I visited one sister. As we sat chatting, her husband came into the lounge, and I felt to ask him for a priesthood blessing.

In that blessing, he said that two of the sisters whose work I would do in the Sydney Australia Temple would come and thank me in the celestial kingdom, which of course, was very nice to hear.

The next day, I received a phone call and was told that the bus wasn’t going to the temple on Friday.

I thought, “Oh dear, what am I to do?” I rang my friend, Bev, who always went on the bus, and she confirmed that the bus trip was cancelled.

I suggested that we hire a little bus for a few of us to go, but she didn’t want to do that.

“What about these two sisters?” I thought, recalling the words in the priesthood blessing I’d received. “I have to get to Sydney somehow!”

I worked on Fridays for a lady who owned a home in Ivanhoe for people with special needs. I did a lot of cooking and was responsible for all the meals there, which needed to be served exactly on time. The day before we were meant to bus to the temple, 24 ladies were to have dinner at 5:00 pm. I needed to have them fed and everything cleared away by 5:25pm so that I could get to the travel agency and book my airline ticket to Sydney.

Throughout the day, whenever I had a chance, I kept ringing the travel agent hoping to secure a ticket but to no avail. Anne, the travel agent, said to me at one point, “Give up, Bev.”

Well! That was like waving the red flag at the proverbial bull!

I managed to clear the evening meal and ring the bell and by 5:25 pm, with my bag in hand, I was waiting at the front door ready to leave—then off I went in my car to the travel agency.

Fortunately, another client was booking an overseas trip, so the office was still open when I arrived at 5:35 pm. The agent who assisted me looked at the screen and said, “I don’t think you’re going to find a flight.”

I stood there, smiled, and waited, and then she said, “Hang on. There is still one left.”

I said, “Thank you,” paid for my ticket and raced out to my car to get to the airport as soon as I could.

I knew I was a little late getting to check-in. I apologized to the attendant and asked, “Am I okay?” She had a look, found that the plane was running 20 minutes late, then handed me my ticket and said, “Go to Gate 11.”

From the Sydney Airport, I needed to catch a train to my girlfriend’s house in Epping, which is not far from the temple. When I landed, I thought I might get a taxi to her place instead, but it was 11:00 pm by then and no taxis were available. I had to walk in the dark for nearly two kilometres.

When I finally arrived at her home, I saw there were no lights on I had to carefully make my way down the dark driveway, lugging my suitcase, one step at a time, to knock on the door.

My friend had thought I wasn’t coming because I’d forgotten to tell her about the mayhem I had been through, but all is well that ends well.

I was able to do the work for those two sisters, and I often think of the time when I will greet them in the celestial kingdom of God.

The first angels that I will mention are the two sister missionaries who taught me the gospel when I was a young man: Sister Vilma Molina and Sister Ivonete Rivitti. My younger sister and I were invited to a Church activity where we met these two angels. I never imagined how much that simple activity would change my life.
My parents and siblings were not interested in learning more about the Church at that time. They were not even willing to have the missionaries in our home, so I took the missionary lessons in a Church building. That small room in the chapel became my “sacred grove.”
One month after these angels introduced me to the gospel, I was baptized. I was 16 years old. Unfortunately, I don’t have a picture of that sacred event, but I do have a picture of my sister and me at the time we participated in that activity. I may need to clarify who is who in this picture. I am the taller one on the right.

I read the “Let Your Light Shine” article (Jan. 2018) and had a chance to let my light shine with my friend. I had a feeling that I should grab a bag of my favorite chips before school. After lunch my friend looked sad, and I asked him what was wrong. He said he had forgotten his lunch. I remembered my chips, so I gave them to him. After school he came up to me and said, “That was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me at school.”
Durham M., age 11, Utah, USA

“I think you have plenty of petals,” Mom said to Autumn as she carefully placed another handful of pretty pink and white rose petals into Autumn’s basket.
Autumn frowned. “Just a few more,” she said, picking up some red ones.
The rose bushes that lined the sidewalk near Autumn’s house dropped what seemed like thousands of petals on the ground every spring. The neighbor who owned the bushes told Autumn she could collect all the petals she wanted. And Autumn wanted lots of them!
Autumn loved to dress up like a bride and act out pretend weddings. Sometimes she asked her sister to play the wedding song on the piano as she walked down the aisle, and sometimes she convinced a friend to be the pretend groom. And Autumn loved to scatter rose petals on the ground, just like flower girls did for brides in the movies.
One day, Mom told Autumn that her favorite cousin, Angie, was getting married in a few months. She had asked Autumn to be her flower girl! “That means I can walk down the aisle in a real wedding with a real bride and groom!” Autumn exclaimed. “I know just what to do. I’ll carry a little basket with rose petals, and I will wear a beautiful dress, and—”
“Well, not quite,” Mom said. “You will be wearing a beautiful dress, but Angie is getting married in the temple, so she will not walk down an aisle.”
“Will I still throw rose petals at the wedding?” Autumn asked. Now she felt worried.
“No, honey,” Mom said. “Only people who have made special covenants with Heavenly Father can go inside the temple to see a wedding. But you can wait in a special room at the temple, and when Angie and Noah come out, you will be one of the first to see how happy they look. Then they will want to take lots of pictures with you, and they might need your help at the reception that night.”
“But Mom, won’t Angie be sad not to walk down the aisle?” Autumn asked. “That’s the best part of a wedding.”
Mom pulled Autumn close. “No, Angie won’t be sad,” she said. “And I think you know why. What do you remember about the temple?”
“When you get married in the temple, you can be together forever,” Autumn said.
“Right,” said Mom. “For time and all eternity. That means that Angie and Noah will be married forever if they obey the commandments. That’s the best part—and it makes them very happy.”
Autumn believed Mom. But deep inside, she still wished that Angie could walk down the aisle and that she could carry her little basket of rose petals.
On Angie’s wedding day, Autumn wore a pretty new dress and had pink flowers in her hair. At the temple, Autumn waited in a room with her cousins while Mom and Dad went inside to watch Angie and Noah get married. When Mom and Dad came out, they walked with Autumn around the temple grounds, and she saw flowers even prettier than the roses at home.
Soon Autumn saw the temple door open, and Noah and Angie walked out with radiant smiles. They looked so happy! It made Autumn feel warm and light inside.
As Angie and Noah walked around the temple grounds holding hands, Autumn knew they had made the right choice to be married in the temple, even though it meant that Autumn did not get to scatter rose petals like she had seen in the movies.
Mom noticed Autumn looking at Angie and squeezed her hand. Autumn smiled back. “I’m glad I got to see Angie and Noah come out of the temple,” she said, looking up at the beautiful white building. “It was much better than petals.”

Sweat trickled down Jake’s brow; he wiped it off with his hand. “Wow! A guy sure gets hot playing pirates!” “Yeah,” agreed Zack as he laid his homemade sword on the ground. “Hey! Let’s go get ice-cream bars down at the market! We have some money left from the aluminum cans that we turned in.”
The store’s freezer felt cool and soothing to the boys as they leaned against it to view the tasty confections through the glass. While Zack was deciding which flavor he wanted, he glanced at a display of Super Squirt Guns. His squirt gun wasn’t a very good one, and he always lost the shoot-out when he and Jake played cowboys. Maybe with a Super Squirt Gun he could beat Jake next time.
As Zack looked back at the mouth-watering ice-cream bars, he remembered how hot he was. He looked at the squirt guns again, knowing that he had only enough money for one or the other. Then he had an idea. I’ll buy the squirt gun and slip the ice-cream bar into my sock. No one will ever know. I’ll pay for it the next time I come here for Mom.
Jake opened the freezer and removed a frozen fudge bar. “What flavor do you want?” Jake asked.
“I don’t know yet. I’ll meet you at the counter,” Zack replied.
“OK,” Jake said as he walked toward the checkout counter.
As Zack watched Jake go, he didn’t see his Primary teacher, Brother Griffin, stacking shelves at the other end of the aisle.
Brother Griffin watched Zack take a fudge bar, slip it into his sock, close the freezer, grab a Super Squirt Gun from the rack, then hurry to join Jake at the counter. Sighing with disappointment, the grocer went to the counter to ring up the boys’ purchases. He was concerned for his young friend. He had never thought that Zack would be a shoplifter. How can I help Zack understand that stealing even a small item isn’t what Heavenly Father wants us to do? As he stepped up to the cash register, he noticed the boys’ swords, and they gave him an idea. “Good afternoon, boys. Why, you look like two fearsome pirates!”
“Hot ones, too,” Jake declared, digging his money out of his pocket.
As Zack placed the squirt gun on the counter, chocolate ice cream trickled into his shoe. He wished that Brother Griffin would hurry and ring up his purchase, but the grocer picked up Jake’s sword for a closer look, instead.
With admiration in his voice, he asked, “Did you boys make these fine swords yourself?”
“Yes,” Jake replied as he started to lick his ice cream.
Zack’s mouth watered as he watched Jake. Then his attention switched to his foot. It was getting stickier every minute that they stood there!
But Brother Griffin started talking to him. “You know, Zack, when I was a boy, I used to play pirates, too, and my friends and I made hats out of newspaper.” He fumbled under the counter. “Hey! I have some newspapers right here! Would you like me to show you how to make one?”
“Well, we really need to be going,” Zack said.
Jake shook his head. “No we don’t!” he countered, taking a bite of his ice cream. “That’d be neat, Brother Griffin.”
Zack wriggled his toes, and melted ice cream oozed between them. He looked at the squirt gun, still sitting on the counter, and rubbed the coins in his pocket with his fingers. Then he looked up at Brother Griffin happily folding a pirate hat out of newspaper for them. Zack didn’t feel good inside. In fact, he felt like his foot, cold and icky.
“There!” Brother Griffin announced as he completed the hat and placed it on Zack’s head.
“Can I try making my own?” asked Jake, finishing the last of his ice cream.
“Sure,” Brother Griffin responded. “Zack, too, if he wants to make another one.”
Zack shook his head, knowing what he had to do, instead. While Brother Griffin coached Jake on how to make his pirate hat, Zack put the squirt gun back on the rack. Returning to the counter, he took a deep breath and blurted, “Brother Griffin, I’d like to pay for my ice cream too.”
“But you didn’t get any ice cream,” Jake said.
“Yes I did—it’s in my sock,” Zack removed the dripping ice-cream wrapper from his soggy stocking, placed his coins on the counter for payment, and added, “I’m sorry that I was going to take the ice cream without paying for it. I was going to pay you later, but that still doesn’t make it right.”
“I’m glad that you chose to be honest, Zack,” Brother Griffin said as he rang up the sale. “You’re a fine young man.”

There was nothing particularly interesting about my feet, so I was a little confused when Nieves, a recent convert in Bolivia, said she was thankful for them.
“I’m so grateful for your feet,” she would tell us in the weeks following her baptism.
Nieves had readily received the restored gospel, but when we invited her to be baptized, she hesitated.
She explained that she suffered from a painful skin condition. When her skin touched cold water, it felt as if a thousand needles were piercing her pores. This condition prevented her from doing even ordinary tasks, such as washing vegetables or scrubbing clothing by hand.
We explained that the baptismal font could be heated, and we assured Nieves that she would be baptized in warm water. Her face brightened, and she chose to be baptized on Christmas Day. My companion and I told the branch president about her skin condition, and he said the font would be heated in time for the afternoon baptism.
When we arrived at the chapel for the baptism, however, the font had just been filled with extremely cold water! The frantic branch president explained that because of a miscommunication, the water would not be ready until much later.
My companion and I knew that Nieves wanted to be baptized that day, and we believed that the Lord desired the same thing. We found an empty room and prayed that He would help Nieves to be baptized.
We felt comforted after the prayer and decided to proceed with the service. Those who spoke before the baptism taught beautifully, but I was suddenly nervous when I heard, “Elder Nelson will now baptize Sister Nieves.”
I tried to hide my discomfort as I stepped gingerly into the frigid water. Nieves took my hand and lowered her foot toward the water. I braced myself for the worst, but Nieves did not shriek or even wince. She stepped calmly down the stairs and smiled up at me.
After the baptismal prayer, she lay back into the cold water. When I lifted her, she emerged grinning. I was filled with gratitude. To me, her baptism was a miracle.
The last time I saw Nieves, she said something that cleared up my confusion about her interest in my feet. She said, “I’m so grateful for your feet, which walked to my door and brought me the truth.”
I think of Nieves and her simple faith and gratitude whenever I hear these words of Isaiah: “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; that bringeth good tidings of good, that publisheth salvation; that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth!” (Isaiah 52:7; see also Mosiah 12:21).

That’s exactly how it used to be with me. If I wanted to go out, they would put me through the third degree before I could do anything. I would always argue and get real upset at them, and it would always end up in a shouting match. Then I decided to try something. Before I made any definite plans, I would ask them if they objected to whatever it was I wanted to do. I’d tell them who I would be with and where I would be.
Then if I changed plans and went somewhere else, I’d call. Pretty soon they didn’t seem so unreasonable. They trust me and my choice of friends and places to go now. People are right; parents do just want what’s best for you!

The youth I saw confined to a wheelchair was a startling contrast to the boy I remembered from the year before. I remembered him as a happy, 18-year-old Indian boy whose swift, strong legs had carried him up and down the basketball courts. But that was yesteryear. Today he was in a wheelchair. Today his dark eyes and handsome smile caused me to be amazed at his youthful courage.
I first met Don a couple of years ago and learned that he was a convert to the Church. His widowed mother lived in a remote section of the Navajo Indian reservation, and he was a participant in the Indian student placement program, a program that places Indian children and teenagers in foster homes during the school year so that they may get a better education. His school work was excellent; he played the piano skillfully; and with the same slim brown fingers he could paint beautiful pictures or strum the guitar in accompaniment to his clear soft voice. Don’s personality was pleasant, his standards were high, his testimony strong. He was soon to graduate from high school, and his plans were to spend a short time with his people on the reservation before returning to live with his foster parents, where he would work preparatory to receiving his expected call to the mission field.
Life seems to have a way of changing the most carefully made plans, but no one would have expected the traumatic experience that awaited Don. His fun on the reservation was cut short by painful events, and his mission began in a much different way than one would have imagined.
While riding in the back of a small truck with some of his friends, Don accidentally fell out onto the hard, black pavement and skidded painfully along its rough surface. That was the last thing he remembered until he awoke in a hospital bed, his body in physical torment.
An excruciating pain in his back persisted through the long night, and as the new day began, Don found himself unable to move his arms, hands, or legs. He was paralyzed from his neck down!
Following an emergency operation, he awoke in a recovery room conscious that the pain in his mended back was subsiding; but he was also painfully aware of his helpless limbs that refused to respond to his efforts to move them.
Don’s concerned doctors had little hope that this condition would ever change. As he lay helpless in his hospital bed, fighting back the tears of discouragement, he expressed the feelings of his heart to his Heavenly Father, asking for strength to endure and for a recovery from his affliction if it were His will.
Night after night while others slept, Don struggled through the long, dark hours attempting to move his helpless hands that lay inertly by his side. He would pray and try, pray and try, repeating over and over in his mind, “I can do it, I can do it, I can do it!” Then, as the early morning light filtered softly through the blinds of his window, he would surrender himself wearily to a merciful sleep.
On one such interminable night, Don’s heart suddenly pounded with excitement as an almost imperceptible movement was made by one of his fingers! Holding his breath in suspense, he moved his finger again!
There was no sleep for Don that night. A wonderful, elated feeling of hope buoyed his troubled spirit and gave him renewed determination to regain the use of his hands.
Each night became a new adventure as gradually, with great effort and perseverance, the use of his hands and arms slowly returned to him.
In the meantime, Don’s doctor had procrastinated the unwelcome task of informing him that he must mentally prepare himself to accept his paralysis as an unalterable fact of his young life.
With great difficulty, the doctor told this news to Don. It was a poignant moment for the good doctor who turned quickly to leave the room to conceal his emotion. As he left the room he stole a last glance at Don lying quietly in his bed. Just at this moment, Don reached his arm up to the head rail of his bed and pulled himself into a more comfortable position. The startled doctor could not contain himself. “Do that again, Don! Do that again!” he shouted with excitement. Soon the room was filled with nurses and doctors who came running to learn the cause of the great commotion. It was a moment to be remembered.
Although Don was happy to feel the strength gradually return to his arms and hands, he had to fight back the tears when he looked down at his helpless legs.
In these trying circumstances he began to fulfill his desire to be a missionary. He told his roommate about the Book of Mormon and gave him a copy to read. Charles, a Hopi Indian boy, immediately became engrossed in the book, and when darkness came at the close of the day, he continued reading. He eagerly read the words of this book for three days and two nights, resentful of the time it took to eat or rest. Finally, when he had turned the last page, he rose from his bed and walked over near Don’s side and asked, “Don, where did you get this book? I have shared in the traditions of my people that we hold to be sacred. Many of our traditions are written in this book. Where did you get it?”
Don happily shared his testimony with his new friend as he told him of the restoration of the gospel and of its special meaning to them as Lamanites, a covenant race and descendants of the Book of Mormon people.
Soon after this Charles was released to go home, anxious to share this new message with family and friends. Don was moved to a rehabilitation center in Denver, Colorado. He was quite unprepared for what he encountered at his new residence in the paralytic ward. Everyone seemed depressed, discouraged, and despondent. Patients could not understand how Don, who was in an equally distressing condition, could seem so happy. Some of them asked, “Why are you always so happy and smiling?” Don replied, “My smile keeps the tears from my eyes, and my laughter keeps away the feeling of unhappiness.”
With courageous determination Don took advantage of the special care he now received. Long after others would tire and leave the gymnasium, he would remain—trying, trying, trying. Through his valiant effort, accompanied by humble prayers to his Heavenly Father, he was finally strong enough to go up and down the parallel bars alone; and then he was able to walk with braces and crutches. His new mobility permitted him to attend church services. This spiritual comfort brought him great joy, but he was totally surprised by the reception he was given upon his return to the hospital. Everyone teased him for going to church! In his characteristic way, Don’s smile merely broadened at their taunting. He resolved to do something about the gloomy atmosphere in this, his new home, so he happily embarked upon the next chapter of his mission.
In the days that followed, he could be seen wheeling himself down hallways and into every room where patients would receive him, preaching the gospel to all who would listen. He became known cheerfully as “the prophet,” a title that he accepted graciously.
In the evenings he often sang as he accompanied himself with his guitar. Others began to join in, and the spirit spread. Friday nights soon became known as the time for singing and entertainment and patients joined together with singing and laughter. Patients began to smile and call each other by name.
All was not happiness for Don, however, for he longed to see his home, his family, and his friends. In spite of his high resolve, his vision clouded when he looked down at his crippled legs. Wonderful Church members tried to fill his hour of need, and Don said, “Through their kindness they put a smile on my face and laughter in my mouth.”
As time drew near for him to be released, he began to worry about his acceptance by friends and family upon his return.
The day finally came when his foster parents arrived. It was an ordeal for Don to get enough courage to ask the question that had filled his mind completely. “Do you want me to come back?” he asked apprehensively. They softly replied, “Of course, Don. We have a bed waiting for you.” The kind response was too much for him! This time his tears flowed freely and mixed with theirs in a demonstration of joy and love.
On the night of Don’s departure, a special program was held in his behalf. His many new friends shook the rafters with a song sung in his honor: “Too Many Chiefs and Not Enough Indians Around This Place.”
The courage and spirit of this young man had affected the lives of others and left an indelible impression.
Two of the residing patients and two members of the nursing staff who waved good-bye to Don had accepted the gospel of Jesus Christ as a result of his influence. Many looked to the future with new hope, and each felt a personal loss at his departure.
Upon his return home, Don’s numerous friends were out to greet him and welcome him back into their circle of friendship. Don soon found a job at an LDS mailbox bookstore that enabled him to meet the payments on his car, a vehicle equipped with special controls that would carry him to his work and to the Mesa Community College where he was enrolled for classes.
As I concluded my visit with him, he handed me a letter. “What is this?” I asked. “It’s a letter from my physical therapist in Denver,” he smiled in reply.
I unfolded the pages and began to read. “Dear Don,” the letter began, “I don’t know how to thank you. Yesterday was the happiest day of my life. It was the day I was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
I hope I will remember the example of Don. I hope I will remember his parting words when I asked about his future. He looked directly at me and spoke with conviction: “I’ll wipe away my tears and let the wind of discouragement blow. I cannot fail, for God is with me.”

Years ago I listened to a radio interview of a young doctor who worked in a hospital in the Navajo Nation. He told of an experience he had one night when an old Native American man with long braided hair came into the emergency room. The young doctor took his clipboard, approached the man, and said, “How can I help you?” The old man looked straight ahead and said nothing. The doctor, feeling somewhat impatient, tried again. “I cannot help you if you don’t speak to me,” he said. “Tell me why you have come to the hospital.”

The old man then looked at him and said, “Do you dance?” As the young doctor pondered the strange question, it occurred to him that perhaps his patient was a tribal medicine man who, according to ancient tribal customs, sought to heal the sick through song and dance rather than through prescribing medication.

“No,” said the doctor, “I don’t dance. Do you dance?” The old man nodded yes. Then the doctor asked, “Could you teach me to dance?”

The old man’s response has for many years caused me much reflection. “I can teach you to dance,” he said, “but you have to hear the music.”

In December 1999 we were preparing for our annual Christmas trip to the Bern Switzerland Temple. The trip, a special tradition we began shortly after our marriage, is one way we commemorate the Savior’s birth.
We live about eight hours by car from the temple, and bad weather preceded our departure. Uprooted trees, a sharp wind, and icy roads would make the journey treacherous.
I felt uncertain and didn’t understand why we were encountering so many obstacles when we knew that the Lord wanted us to go to the temple. Would He not open our way?
My husband, Antonio, and I knelt in prayer with our children and said to our Heavenly Father that unless He told us differently, we would head for Bern the next day.
“If the road is truly impassable,” Antonio said after our prayer, “we’ll come back.”
I felt our decision was right, but I was still fearful. The next morning, full of doubt, I wanted to pray again. Antonio told me we had already received our answer, but he lovingly and patiently knelt beside me.
When we left, it was barely dawn and dark clouds hovered over us. As we drove, I could see a small bit of blue sky near the mountains. A timid ray of sun broke through the clouds.
That glimmer of sunshine strengthened my vacillating faith. Miraculously, the sun came out and the temperature rose. There was no fog, no ice, no wind—only a clear, extraordinarily warm winter day. My eyes filled with tears. It seemed that Heavenly Father had answered our prayers.
After we arrived at Bern, it began to snow heavily and continued to snow throughout our stay. As we headed to the temple before dawn the next morning, the storm turned into a blizzard. For a minute I was afraid, and I began to run along the sidewalk that leads to the temple.
Then a thought came into my mind: “This is the way it should be. The world howls at us with troubles, but we must run to the peace of the Lord found in His house.”
We had a wonderful time at the temple that Christmas season, but we worried about our trip home. The snow continued to fall, and our youngest son developed a high fever. On the day of our departure, however, the snow miraculously stopped, and our son’s fever broke after he received a priesthood blessing.
As the peace of the temple sustained us, a Bible verse came to my mind: “Is any thing too hard for the Lord?” (Genesis 18:14). With gratitude, I realized that no, it is not.

Before I was baptized, I felt embarrassed about myself because of my wheelchair. After I was baptized, however, I began coming to the ward every Sunday and participating in young single adult activities. I even went to stake dances, dancing in my wheelchair to every song. I also joined a network for Samoans with spinal injuries.
I realized I had healed from feeling that I needed to hide. Through the Church, I gained the confidence to go among people again.
Before he was baptized, Posenai felt embarrassed to be in a wheelchair. But after his baptism, he says, “I gained the confidence to go among people again.”

I’ve learned, too, that silence can also be very productive, even though it often makes us anxious. A fine colleague and friend came to my office shortly after I’d been sustained as a General Authority. I greeted him warmly, but, contrary to my usual style, I stayed mostly silent. His eyes brimmed with tears as he finally said that as he listened to conference, he knew he needed to come in to set things right. I resisted the impulse to intervene reassuringly, since I knew of nothing that was wrong. He then continued, saying that he was becoming active in the Church again and knew that he needed to repair certain relationships. Happily, I again resisted stemming his flow of feeling. With courage and tenderness, he indicated that he had at times said things about me that were untrue and unkind and he wanted to seek my forgiveness. Only then did I really respond by telling him of my regard, of my unawareness and unconcern over what he had reported. Most importantly, I told him of my love, admiration, and forgiveness. We embraced. I expressed admiration for his courage and manhood. He then said how difficult it had been to come in that day and how he had almost called to cancel the appointment. We spoke together of the wisdom contained in Matthew 18:15 [Matt. 18:15] and Jesus’ counsel therein as to what we should do when there are impasses in human relationships. I love that man and respect him for taking the initiative, since I had been unaware of the matter. He is fully and effectively active in the kingdom today. He needed to say what he said more than I needed to hear it. I’m so grateful I did not rush in to fill the silence that he used so well.