Gospel Story Finder

As a family we consistently hold family home evening; however, my father often travels for extended periods of time for his employment. Sometimes that means he is out of town when it’s time for family home evening.
Then two years ago, when my father got his own laptop, one of my siblings wondered, “Why not have our family home evenings with Dad via the Internet?”
Since that time, when our father is away during family home evening, we simply agree on a time, and we connect. We can see and hear him, and he can see and hear us. The Internet and the computer have allowed our father to participate in our home evenings.
We do not have to depart from our established schedule: if it is Dad’s turn to give the lesson, for example, he gives it. One of our family’s traditions is to evaluate our personal goals each week; this is never interrupted anymore. And another important thing: our reading of the Book of Mormon as a family is now continual, since we no longer have excuses not to read.
My father also uses the Internet to keep in touch with us in other ways. When he is away from our home in Peru, he connects and finds out what we’re doing and where we are. And when it is time for interviews or family councils, these are carried out at the appointed time, even when he’s traveling.
There are many good and useful technological advances that we often don’t put to good use because we fear their misuse and the harm they can cause us. However, if we use such technology wisely and humbly, it can be of great help.
We feel very thankful in our family for the Internet because it has become a great tool for removing the obstacles that might otherwise keep our family apart.

Are we there yet? Most parents and grandparents remember this question. Naume and I were asked this question over and over by all four of our children as they were growing up, but especially on our annual family trip to the Johannesburg South Africa Temple. This drive was between 12 to 18 hours depending on the border situation with immigration officials, which were unpredictable.
During these trips, because of the distance and many hours on the road, our children would constantly ask, “Are we there yet?” Our response in trying to describe the distance of the trip to our children was as follows: “You will sleep, wake up, sleep, wake up, sleep, wake up, and then we will be there, or almost there.” Sometimes our children would try to fake the sleep segments of the trip when it seemed too long and too boring for them, hoping that eliminating sleep would somehow reduce the distance.
We tried to be as creative as possible to make these long trips enjoyable for the children. Although we often faced fatigue and sometimes disappointments, we did not let these circumstances deter us from the goal we had established as husband and wife. Our goal was to make sure that our children had the blessing of touching the walls of the temple and participating in baptisms for our kindred dead at least once a year. When we look back on those experiences, we would never trade them for anything else.

Arlene
Arlene, 20, has been working as a nanny for two years. She has found a wonderful family to work for that cares for her and encourages her in everything she tries. She, in turn, does an excellent job for them and appreciates the affection they share. She has been with them nearly two years, caring for their little girl Sasha.
“Charlie and Deb are the second family I have worked for. The first family turned out to be more of a maid position than a nanny position. I was totally unhappy there. I heard from a friend that Charlie and Deb were looking for someone. I called them, and they invited me to their house. I was offered the job that evening.”
Deb talks about what they expected from Arlene before they hired her. “We asked a lot of questions of her. We asked who she was, what did she want to be when she grew up. We told her who we were and what we expected of a person who would be a part of our family. We didn’t want someone who was a maid. We wanted another family member. It was important to us, because we both work full-time, that whoever took care of our child really wanted to do that and wanted to be a partner with us.”
Charlie added, “We also wanted to be sure she was given the resources to be independent. In the suburbs of Boston, you need a car to get around all the time. She needs to have transportation when she is not working, or she would be stuck here. She needs a telephone in her room, and privacy so she can live her own life.
“We’re lucky to have the resources to have someone live in with us. Some people who hire nannies think they have bought a 24-hour baby-sitting service, someone who will be at their beck and call and who will sacrifice completely for that family. We don’t perceive Arlene that way. This is someone we recognize as a full, well-rounded individual, and we weren’t going to try to turn her into some type of servant.”
Arlene points out how being a nanny differs from baby-sitting. “When you are baby-sitting, you are responsible for who you are watching at that time, but here this isn’t just when I’m working. It’s 24 hours a day. When I’m in the home, I’m responsible. We all work as a team. The most important thing is the communication between the nanny and her employers.
“When I came out, I wanted to avoid going to school. But now I’m going to school in the evenings, and I’m a studious person. I’ve learned so much about myself and who I want to be.”
Although she was not a member of the Church when she came east, Arlene began attending the ward on her own. Eventually she became a member. Her employers came to her baptism because they knew that it was important to her and wanted to be supportive.
Arlene is now the ward’s Young Adult representative in charge of the nannies. She uses her leadership abilities to help other girls who are having problems or need encouragement.

A young man I know well was elected to be the student body president at a large university. The university sent him to a leadership seminar where student leaders from across the United States gathered in Chicago, Illinois, to be trained and educated. They participated in an initial game outdoors on the college campus so that they could become acquainted with each other. The students were presented with current issues facing today’s youth and were asked to take a position. In response to the issue presented, they were directed to run to several trees in the grassy area marked “strongly agree,” “partially agree,” “strongly disagree,” or “mildly disagree.”
Toward the end of this exercise, the leader asked, “Do you believe in premarital sex?” Without hesitation, this young man ran to the tree marked “strongly disagree.” To his amazement, he was the only one there! All the other student leaders were laughing and pointing at him and saying, “Oh, Jess, you are so funny. We all know you’re not really serious.” At that moment Jess said he knew exactly what he must do and so he loudly declared, “I’m not funny. I’m serious!” There was a stunned silence, and then the group dispersed, leaving Jess standing alone by the tree. He felt out of place and, yes, weird. But he wasn’t weird. He was right. And he was not alone. During the week, many of the student leaders came to him privately and said that they wished they had known years earlier what he knew. Jess later said, “It was easy because I knew that I represented not only the university but my family, the Church, and the Savior.”

Some years ago, I prayed for the words to defend motherhood when I received an anonymous phone call.
The caller asked, “Are you Neill Marriott, the mother of a big family?”
I answered happily, “Yes!” expecting to hear her say something like, “Well, that’s good!”
But no! I’ll never forget her reply as her voice crackled over the phone: “I am highly offended that you would bring children onto this overcrowded planet!”
“Oh,” I sputtered, “I see how you feel.”
She snapped, “No—you don’t!”
I then whimpered, “Well, maybe I don’t.”
She started on a rant about my foolish choice to be a mother. As she went on, I began to pray for help, and a gentle thought came to mind: “What would the Lord say to her?” I then felt I was standing on solid ground and gained courage at the thought of Jesus Christ.
I replied, “I am glad to be a mother, and I promise you I will do everything in my power to nurture my children in such a way that they will make the world a better place.”
She replied, “Well, I hope you do!” and hung up.
It wasn’t a big thing—after all, I was standing safely in my own kitchen! But in my own small way, I was able to speak in defense of family, mothers, and nurturers because of two things: (1) I understood and believed God’s doctrine of the family, and (2) I prayed for words to convey these truths.

Our baptisms are supposed to be in two weeks. Dad—oops! I mean Bishop May—is going to interview me on Sunday. Brenda says that she wants to wait until she’s older. I think that maybe I want to wait too. Maybe I’ll wait until you come home. Maybe I’ll wait till I’m old like Mr. Rockwell. That way, if I make some mistakes between now and then, my baptism will wash away all my sins from my whole life.
Love,Buddy

Dear Buddy,
Getting baptized is a wonderful event. Of course I would like to be there for your baptism, but I certainly don’t want you to wait just for me. It’s too important! And there’s no advantage in waiting until you’re old before you’re baptized. In fact, Mr. Rockwell wishes that he could have found the Church when he was much younger so that he could have been baptized then.
You see, waiting until the end of your life to be baptized would be like waiting until the end of a baseball game before putting on your catcher’s equipment. Baptism makes us clean of all our sins, the ones both before and after we’re baptized, if we truly repent of them. Your baptism now will be a blessing to you throughout your life. And every time you take the sacrament, it’ll be like renewing your baptism.
And two other great things happen when you get baptized. One is that you’ll become a confirmed member of the Lord’s Church. The other is that you’ll be given the gift of the Holy Ghost to help you have a fuller, happier life.
A good way to learn how to use that gift is to bear your testimony. Elder Butler and I bear our testimonies to everyone we can. It gives us a wonderful, peaceful feeling.
I’m proud of you, and I’ll be thinking of you on your baptism day.
Love,Reed

I read your letter to Brenda. We had a good talk, and she told me a secret. She’s afraid of the water because she can’t swim. She said that some people have to be put underwater two or three times.
Dad showed me how to make sure to go underwater completely so that it only has to be done once. It’s fast and easy! I showed Brenda how, and we practiced it. Now Brenda has decided that she’s going to be baptized the same day that I am.

Then came the first Sunday in March. I’ll never forget that day. Just after Sunday School Bishop Edwards asked me if I could come to his office an hour before fast meeting for a little talk. Well, I know the bishop doesn’t just call people in for a little talk for no reason. I wondered what I had done—or what I was going to do. But I did tell him I would be there.
At three o’clock I found myself stepping on the rich blue carpeting of the bishop’s office and then staring into the eyes of a man who, it seemed, instantly knew everything about me. I had known Bishop Edwards for a long time. He had been my Sunday School teacher when I was in junior high school and had been bishop now for a couple of years. I hadn’t known him as a bishop too well since I spent many Sundays in my student branch at school. But now, as I looked at him, I knew what a wonderful man he was and the great power he represented.
After a few minutes of small talk about school, family, and whatever, he got to the point of this meeting. “Today as I looked over the congregation, my eyes rested on you,” he said intensely, “and as clearly as we have been speaking to each other, a voice said to me, ‘That girl needs to go on a mission.’” I was stunned! That was the last thing I expected him to say. Me? On a mission? His voice interrupted my thoughts.
“I can see by your expression that you didn’t receive the same inspiration. It must come as quite a surprise. But it’s something you don’t have to decide right now. You think about it and be sure to include your parents and the Lord in your decision. Just let me know when you’ve found your answer.”
A few moments later I walked out of the door, and the fluorescent lighting of the hall hit me with the reality of the situation. I figured in two years I’d really be an old maid. But two years might give Allen time to join the Church on his own. It would give me a chance to find myself. And most important, it would be a chance to get closer to the Lord and serve his children more than I had ever done, I found an empty room and knelt in prayer, asking my Heavenly Father to help me make the right decision. When I stood, I felt a certain calm, even though I still didn’t feel that I had a positive answer.
As I made my way down the stairs and into the chapel, I met Emily and her baby in the foyer. It was her first time back to church since Julie’s birth. We talked for a minute and then entered the chapel. Emily and her mother sat in the row in front of me, and just before the meeting, Emily leaned back guiltily and whispered to me, “I forgot this was fast Sunday until I looked at the program. We just finished eating a turkey dinner at Ted’s, so I guess I’ll have to fast twice next month.” I smiled and just then my stomach growled uncomfortably, testifying to the fact that I had remembered.
Through the rows of heads and shoulders that I saw from my position on the fourth row from the back, I caught a glimpse of Karen and the rest of her family taking up an entire center bench. I was glad that she had made it but sorry I’d missed her before the meeting. I’d have to hurry to the front after the closing prayer to talk to her.
After the songs and announcements were over and after we had taken the sacrament, Bishop Edwards stood behind the pulpit and said, “This afternoon we have a special treat. I know many of you have known Karen Evans since she was a little girl.” Emily looked back at me and winked knowingly, but then turned her head sharply forward as the bishop went on. “Well, this afternoon Karen, now Karen Sanders, has brought her own little girl to receive a name and a blessing from her husband. Assisting in the circle will be her father and brothers.”
As I watched David take his little girl from Karen and carry her almost reverently to the front, I could see a side view of Emily. Tears were rapidly filling her deep blue eyes and streaming down her face onto Julie’s downy head. Her shoulders shook violently as she buried her head in her baby’s neck. Emily’s mother tenderly put her arm around her daughter’s throbbing shoulders, and I could see that she, too, was crying. Emily looked up, and I heard her gasp in a desperate whisper, “Oh Mama! Who is going to bless my baby?”
“I bless you, Melissa, with a sound mind and body,” I heard David Sanders say at the front of the room, “and that you will live a righteous life, that when the time comes, you will meet a choice son of our Father in heaven, one who honors his priesthood and who will take you to the temple of the Lord to be sealed to him for eternity.” Through the entire blessing and for the rest of the meeting, Julie’s baby shawl absorbed her tears.
And now, even though a year has passed, and even though the dark-haired women in this once strange country contrast vividly with blonde Emily, whenever my companion and I are out tracting, or we go to a branch meeting and I see a mother and baby alone, something grabs at my heart. For I keep seeing Emily.

When I was called to serve as a bishop, our six young children made sacrament meetings challenging for my wife, Cristin, who had to manage them alone while I sat on the stand. As you may imagine, our children were often less than reverent. Noticing her situation, two members of our ward, John and Debbie Benich, began sitting with her each Sunday to help. Their kindness continued for years, and they became surrogate grandparents to our family. Like the Lord, these disciples had noticed the unspoken need and acted in love—a prominent sign of their discipleship.

Grandma was coming today! It was hard for Heidi to wait, because she had a surprise to show Grandma. Finally a blue car turned into the driveway.
“Grandma!” Heidi yelled. “Grandma, I have a surprise for you. Guess what it is!”
Grandma measured the top of Heidi’s curly head against her own arm. “I bet I already know your surprise—you’re getting taller.”
“Oh, Grandma, that’s no surprise. Guess again.”
“Is it something new growing in the garden?” Grandma asked, swinging Heidi’s hand as they walked past the marigolds beside the front walk.
“Nope,” Heidi told her. “Guess again.”
“Well,” Grandma said as they climbed the front steps, “the front door is painted bright red. It used to be white. Is that your surprise?”
“No, that’s not it, either,” Heidi said. “Guess again.”
“Mmmmm. I smell something good. Did you make some special cookies for me? Is that the surprise?”
“No—my surprise is better than cookies!” Heidi grinned. “Guess again, Grandma.”
“Well,” Grandma said as they climbed the stairs to Heidi’s room, “your surprise wasn’t the inches that you’ve grown. And it wasn’t something new in the garden or the bright red door or the good smelling cookies. I give up. What can your surprise be?”
“Look in the basket in my closet, Grandma,” Heidi said, jumping up and down with excitement.
“Oh, oh, oh!” cried Grandma. “Muffin has three new kittens! They are darling, Heidi. What a wonderful surprise.”
“That’s not all, Grandma,” Heidi told her. “The best part is that you get to keep one!”

As a Montana rancher for most of my 70 years, I treasure the parable of the good shepherd, found in John 10:1–18, for I have lived it. The following experiences were particularly powerful in bringing this parable to life.
In biblical times each shepherd vocally summoned his personal flock from the many herds pooled together into a nighttime sheepfold (see vv. 3–4). Likewise, whenever I move my sheep, I simply call, and they follow.
Years ago my spry 96-year-old neighbor, Alice, who also raised sheep, became ill during lambing season, so I offered to do her night lambing. When I entered her lambing shed my first night “on duty,” Alice’s nearly 100 ewes were peacefully bedded down for the night. Yet when I appeared, they immediately sensed a stranger in their midst. Terrified, they instantly sought safety by huddling together in a far corner (see v. 5).
This continued for several nights. No matter how quietly I entered, the sheep panicked and fled. I spoke soothingly to the newborn lambs and ewes as I tended them. By the fifth night they no longer stirred as I worked among them. They had come to recognize my voice and trust me.
Sometime later I told Alice I would feed her dozen or so bum lambs their bottles. (A bum lamb is one whose mother has died or cannot produce enough milk.) Imitating Alice, I called to her lambs, “Come, BaBa! Come, BaBa!” I expected the lambs to hungrily stampede me as they did her. But not a single lamb even glanced up. Alice then stepped out her kitchen door and called. Hearing her voice, they eagerly rushed toward her, clamoring for their milk.
Intrigued, Alice and I conducted an experiment. Standing in my corral, Alice mimicked my call: “Here, lamby, lamby! Here, lamby, lamby!” and received no response whatsoever. But when I called with the exact same words, my sheep quickly surrounded me. Even though the words we used to summon the sheep were identical, our unfamiliar voices went unheeded. The sheep loyally heard only their true shepherd (see v. 4).

“Why are you still inside?” Corey’s mother asked. “You always like to play in the puddles when it rains.” Corey sat on the window seat, watching the last of the rain drip-drip-drip off the roof. “I always play in the puddles with Lissa,” he said. “But we had a fight yesterday.”
“Oh?”
“She named her new kitten Mannington. I told her that was a dumb name for a cat.”
“Did you tell her you were sorry?”
Corey stuck his chin out stubbornly. “I’m not sorry,” he said. “It is a dumb name.”
Mother smiled and said, “Do you remember the name you gave the goldfish we had last year?”
Corey remembered that he had named the timid little goldfish Shark, just to be funny. “I guess it was kind of a dumb name, too,” he admitted. “I think I’ll go outside now.”
Corey spattered a few puddles with his rubber boots. He swish-swished through the water running down the gutter.
“Puddles aren’t any fun alone,” he mumbled. “There’s nobody to splash with or to help me throw big rocks in the puddles.”
He started slowly back home. He didn’t kick through the puddles. He didn’t even jump over them. He walked around them with regular, un-rainy-day steps.
In front of his house the rainwater ran along the curb like a little river. He watched the leaves scooting along like tiny boats toward Lissa’s house.
Lissa was outside playing by herself too. I know what I’ll do, Corey thought, racing into his house. In a few minutes he came back with a cardboard boat that he had made out of an old cereal box.
He launched his boat into the gutter, then hid behind a tree to watch. Bump … dip … spin. It was a rough ride, but his craft was seaworthy.
Lissa squealed happily when she saw the boat. She reached down and plucked it from the water. Then she looked up and saw Corey peeking out from behind the tree. She waved and called to him.
When he got close to her, he said, “I think Mannington is a fine name for your cat. I’m sorry I made fun of it.”
“Thanks, Corey, for telling me that.” She smiled at him and handed him the boat. “Come on—let’s see who can find the biggest puddle to splash in.”

It was also a time of spiritual tempering. When Lucy had been given up to die from consumption, she covenanted to serve God all her days and to seek “the religion that would enable [her] to serve him right,” even if “obtained from heaven by prayer and faith.” She was healed and faithfully sought that religion for the next two decades, not yet understanding that her own son would introduce her to it. “For days and months and years,” without ceasing, she “continued asking God … to reveal … the hidden treasures of his will.” Joseph Sr.’s mistrust of organized religion did not let him share her quest among the churches she had access to, but it did not become a source of contention between them. Rather, she prayed sincerely for consolation and was comforted by a dream that assured her Joseph Sr. would accept the truth when it was presented to him.

Recently, I had the unique opportunity to hold a page of the original manuscript of the Book of Mormon. On this particular page, for the first time in this dispensation, these bold words of Nephi were recorded: “I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.”
As I held this page, I was filled with a profound appreciation for the efforts of the 23-year-old Joseph Smith, who translated the Book of Mormon by the “gift and power of God.” I also felt appreciation for the words of a young Nephi, who had been asked to perform a very difficult task in obtaining the plates of brass from Laban.
Nephi knew that if he continued to stay focused on the Lord, he would be successful in fulfilling what the Lord commanded him. He remained focused on the Savior throughout his life even though he suffered temptations, physical trials, and even the betrayal of some in his immediate family.
Nephi knew in whom He could trust. Shortly after exclaiming, “O wretched man that I am! Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh,” Nephi stated, “My God hath been my support; he hath led me through mine afflictions in the wilderness; and he hath preserved me upon the waters of the great deep.”
As followers of Christ, we are not spared challenges and trials in our lives. We are often required to do difficult things that, if attempted alone, would be overwhelming and maybe impossible. As we accept the Savior’s invitation to “come unto me,” He will provide the support, comfort, and peace that are necessary, just as He did for Nephi and Joseph. Even in our deepest trials, we can feel the warm embrace of His love as we trust Him and accept His will. We can experience the joy reserved for His faithful disciples, for “Christ is joy.”
In 2014, while serving a full-time mission, our family experienced an unexpected turn of events. When riding down a steep hill on a longboard, our youngest son fell and sustained a life-threatening injury to his brain. As his situation deteriorated, medical personnel rushed him into emergency surgery.
Our family knelt on the floor of an otherwise empty hospital room, and we poured our hearts out to God. In the midst of this confusing and painful moment, we were filled with our Heavenly Father’s love and peace.
We did not know what the future held or if we would see our son alive again. We did know very clearly that his life was in God’s hands and the results, from an eternal perspective, would work out for his and our good. Through the gift of the Spirit, we were fully prepared to accept any outcome.
It was not easy! The accident resulted in a two-month hospital stay while we were presiding over 400 full-time missionaries. Our son experienced a significant loss of memory. His recovery included long and difficult physical, speech, and occupational therapy sessions. Challenges remain, but over time we have witnessed a miracle.
We understand clearly that not every trial we face will have a result we wish for. However, as we remain focused on Christ, we will feel peace and see God’s miracles, whatever they may be, in His time and in His way.
There will be times when we will not be able to see any way that a current situation will end well and might even express, as Nephi, “My heart sorroweth because of my flesh.” There may be times that the only hope we have is in Jesus Christ. What a blessing to have that hope and trust in Him. Christ is the one who will always keep His promises. His rest is assured for all who come unto Him.
Our leaders deeply desire all to feel the peace and comfort that come through trusting in and focusing on the Savior Jesus Christ.
Our living prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, has been communicating the Lord’s vision for the world and for members of Christ’s Church: “Our message to the world is simple and sincere: we invite all of God’s children on both sides of the veil to come unto their Savior, receive the blessings of the holy temple, have enduring joy, and qualify for eternal life.”
This invitation to “come unto Christ” has specific implications for Latter-day Saints. As members of the Savior’s Church, we have made covenants with Him and have become His spiritually begotten sons and daughters. We have also been given the opportunity to labor with the Lord in inviting others to come unto Him.
As we labor with Christ, our most deeply focused efforts should be within our own homes. There will be times when family members and close friends will face challenges. The voices of the world, and maybe their own desires, might cause them to question truth. We should do everything we can to help them feel both the Savior’s love and our love. I am reminded of the scripture verse that has become our beloved hymn “Love One Another,” which teaches us, “By this shall … men know … ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.”
In our love for those who are questioning truth, the enemy of all joy might try to make us feel that we betray those we love if we ourselves continue to live the fulness of the gospel and teach its truths.
Our ability to help others come unto Christ or return to Christ will largely be determined by the example we set through our own personal commitment to stay on the covenant path.
If our true desire is to rescue those we love, we ourselves must stay firmly with Christ by embracing His Church and the fulness of His gospel.
In returning to Nephi’s story, we know that Nephi’s inclination to trust in the Lord was influenced by his parents’ propensity to trust in the Lord and by their covenant-keeping example. This is beautifully exemplified in Lehi’s vision of the tree of life. After partaking of the sweet and joyful fruit of the tree, Lehi “cast [his] eyes round about, that perhaps [he] might discover [his] family.” He saw Sariah, Sam, and Nephi standing “as if they knew not whither they should go.” Lehi then stated, “I beckoned unto them; and I also did say unto them with a loud voice that they should come unto me, and partake of the fruit.” Please note that Lehi did not leave the tree of life. He stayed spiritually with the Lord and invited his family to come where he was to partake of the fruit.
The adversary would entice some to leave the joy of the gospel by separating Christ’s teachings from His Church. He would have us believe that we can stay firmly on the covenant path on our own, through our own spirituality, independent of His Church.
In these latter days, Christ’s Church was restored in order to help Christ’s covenant children stay on His covenant path.
In the Doctrine and Covenants we read, “Behold, this is my doctrine—whosoever repenteth and cometh unto me, the same is my church.”
Through Christ’s Church, we are strengthened through our experiences as a community of Saints. We hear His voice through His prophets, seers, and revelators. Most importantly, through His Church we are provided with all the essential blessings of Christ’s Atonement that can be realized only through participation in sacred ordinances.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is Christ’s Church on the earth, restored in these latter days for the benefit of all of God’s children.
I bear witness that as we come unto Christ and live as Latter-day Saints, we will be blessed with an added measure of His love, His joy, and His peace. Like Nephi, we can do difficult things and help others do the same, because we know in whom we can trust. Christ is our light, our life, and our salvation. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I started taking the discussions from the missionaries, and in June 1992 I was baptized and confirmed. I will never forget that very special day. Before entering the waters of baptism I could feel a great weight, as if I were walking with feet of lead. But when I came out of the water, I felt like I was flying in the air. And when the missionaries placed their hands on my head and gave me the gift of the Holy Ghost, a warm feeling entered my body, and I was filled with a peace I had never felt before. The tears began to roll down my cheeks. To my surprise I realized I was crying not from pain or sadness but for the great joy and peace in my heart.

Even though I had been to church only a few times, my home teacher faithfully visited me. One night he called and asked if I would share some thoughts about eternal families in the next Gospel Principles class.
“Yes, I’d love to,” I said.
I didn’t think much of it until the next morning. That’s when I realized I had agreed to talk about eternal families to a group of people who probably already knew all about it. I didn’t have a clue what I could say to them.
Over the years, I had made choices that separated me from the gospel. How was I supposed to share my thoughts about something I wasn’t sure I even believed? I felt confused. Then the words to the hymn “I Am a Child of God” (Hymns, no. 301) came to my mind. I had not heard those words in years, but I knew them by heart. Then it struck me: I needed to ask God if I actually was His child.
At that time, I was rearranging the furniture in my bedroom, so with my bed askew in the middle of the room, I kneeled next to it and waited for the words to come. What could I possibly say to God? I wasn’t sure He even existed. In that moment, my heart’s deepest desire brought these simple words to my lips: “God, are You really there? And if You are there, am I Your child?”
The answer came immediately. It was as if He had been waiting for me to ask. I felt God say, “Yes, Camille, I am here, and you are my child.”
When I opened my eyes, I was still in my disheveled bedroom. Everything around me was in disarray, but I felt like my life had been put in perfect order. I knew that I was a child of God, and that was all that mattered.
In class on Sunday, I simply told my story of how I came to know that I am a child of God. “If I am His child,” I said, “then so is everyone else.”
It took another three and a half years for me to make all the positive changes I needed to make, but my life has never been the same. Since that day, I have never doubted who I am. I know that Heavenly Father is always there. He loves me because I am His child.

I was serving as a missionary in France when the world collapsed and COVID-19 hurled the whole country into a strict lockdown. I have struggled with depression throughout my life, so I worried that the confining circumstances would cause me to slip into a depressive episode. But the first week of quarantine—the week leading up to the historical April 2020 general conference—was one of the most spiritual weeks of my life.
Looking back, the experiences I had that week felt like the Lord was fortifying me for a storm.
Elder Gary E. Stevenson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles gave a talk that conference about the repairs that would be made to the Salt Lake Temple’s foundations. He likened the remodeling to our own lives and asked us to consider this question:
“What are the foundational elements of my spiritual and emotional character that will allow me and my family to remain steadfast and immovable, even to withstand the earthshaking and tumultuous seismic events that will surely take place in our lives?”
As I listened to his talk, the Spirit impressed on me that, like the temple, I was going to be broken down in certain ways during the next period of my life. But I also felt that if I turned to the Lord during these challenges, He would help me strengthen my foundation of faith.
As expected, I soon grew depressed, and it wasn’t long before I felt trapped in an endless cycle of suicidal ideation. I felt torn down mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.
After two months of quarantine, things got a little better. Thanks to changes in my circumstances, like antidepressant medication and the end of lockdown, I started to feel better mentally. But soon after, I started feeling sick and noticed three large lumps at the base of my throat.
At first I ignored the bumps, but when my symptoms worsened, it became clear that I could no longer stay in the mission field. I returned home, where I was promptly diagnosed with blood cancer—Hodgkin’s lymphoma.
Because my antidepressants had a bit of an emotional numbing effect, I felt pretty apathetic as I started six months of chemotherapy.
But even so, I began to break down physically.
A year after my chemotherapy treatment ended, I was starting to feel better physically. I was back at college and making plans. But the searing spiritual pain and numbness I had felt on my mission and during chemotherapy had now turned into a general feeling of indifference about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
I was struggling with my feelings about what I had gone through and felt as if They had abandoned me when I was at my lowest.
But Heavenly Father knew what paths I needed to take so I could heal.
I felt like I was grappling with the rubble and remains of my once-strong faith and my once-vibrant personality. I felt so disconnected from myself. My heart was softening toward the Lord’s attempts to reach out to me, but spiritually I felt guilty, anxious, and unworthy because of my indifference toward the gospel.
After pondering my spiritual health for a few months, I was prompted to make small spiritual changes in my life. I had ignored the pain for a while, but I wanted to address the hurt I felt in my soul because of the challenges I had experienced.
Soon I could see Heavenly Father’s hand in my life. Without knowing how spiritually numb I was feeling, friends and loved ones brought up the topic of healing. One of them even shared a devotional address by Elaine S. Marshall.
Reluctantly, I read it.
I don’t think it was a coincidence that the treatment for my cancer required six months of chemotherapy. The effects of chemo are drastic, dramatic, and demanding. Interestingly, learning to let my body heal physically taught me a key principle of spiritual healing—how to draw upon Jesus Christ’s grace and allow myself time and space to heal my relationship with Him and Heavenly Father.
The first step I took toward spiritual healing was finding a desire to connect with God. Alma taught me how to start when he said, “Exercise a particle of faith, yea, even if ye can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you, even until ye believe in a manner that ye can give place for a portion of my words” (Alma 32:27).
I testify from personal experience that this teaching is true.
Similar to Alma’s experience, my desire to feel the Spirit and the joy of the gospel again set off a whole trajectory shift that took me through the process of healing. Since then, the Savior has helped me to reconcile my past feelings as I’ve learned to let go of my resentments toward God, Him, and my own weaknesses.
Because of Him, parts of myself that I thought I had lost in the mists of my trials—like my personality, my desires, and my love for the gospel—have been returned to me and have made me feel whole, renewed, and restored.
Pain and challenges changed me, but as I found healing through Jesus Christ, I truly rebuilt my foundation of faith on Him. As time passes and I heal, I see that because of Jesus Christ, I can learn to have joy despite my struggles. I now understand that the most important part of going through a trial isn’t what breaks us down or the pain we feel—it’s what follows as we experience healing and reconstruction through the Savior’s grace.

Steve Young is one of the most gifted young men that I have ever known. He is fast, strong, big, handsome, … and rich. It is easy for us to look at Steve and say, “With all those attributes, you ought to be great.” However, it is more than his physical attributes that have made him great; it is the way he thinks! When Steve was a junior and was starting his first season as our quarterback, we had one of the greatest opportunities presented to us in our football program at BYU. We were scheduled to play Herschel Walker and the University of Georgia, the defending national champions. We worked very hard and felt we had a chance to beat them if we played our very best and did not make mistakes.
Before 82,000 fans, and on a “rainy day in Georgia,” Steve threw five interceptions in the first half of the game—more than he would normally throw in five games! In spite of the interceptions and two missed field goal attempts, we were still tied 7–7 at halftime.
Going into the dressing room, I thought to myself that I must talk to Steve and assure him that everything would be fine. The rain, the crowd, the tipped balls, etc.—I had all the excuses ready for throwing five interceptions in one half. I started explaining this to Steve and before I could finish, Steve stopped me, looked at me as if I was crazy, and said, “Hey coach, there’s no problem. I can hardly wait to get back out there. We’re going to win.” I found myself thinking, “What do you mean there’s no problem, you dummy. You have just thrown five interceptions!” It’s the way he thinks. That’s what has made him what he is and enabled him to accomplish what he has done. As you know, this was just the start of a career that would see him become one of the finest quarterbacks to play the game of college football.

Latter-day Saint pioneer Mary Ann Angell Young was a living testament that faith in God and his gospel is reason enough to endure hardship with dignity, patience, and unwavering hope. So deep was her devotion to the gospel and so steady was her trust in the Lord that no extremity of persecution, toil, illness, or separation from loved ones in life or in death disturbed her faith.
Born in Seneca, Ontario County, New York, in 1803, Mary Ann was reared by God-fearing parents. After the family moved to Providence, Rhode Island, Mary Ann joined the Free Will Baptist Church and developed a keen interest in the Bible.
“Her study of the scriptures, especially the prophecies, so engrossed her mind, that she confidently looked for their fulfillment, in consequence of which she resolved never to marry until she should ‘meet a man of God.’”1 That blessing came years later, shortly after her conversion to the restored gospel.
Mary Ann learned of the Book of Mormon when Elder Thomas B. Marsh preached of the Restoration in Providence in 1830. From him she requested a copy of the sacred book, which she prayerfully read and believed. “She testified many times that the Spirit bore witness to her when she took the Book of Mormon in her hands, of the truth of its origin, so strongly that she could never afterwards doubt it,” wrote her biographer, Emmeline B. Wells.2
Two years later Mary Ann journeyed to New York to investigate the new religion firsthand. Her parents, who were visiting friends near Palmyra, had not told her enough about the new faith in their letters to satisfy her. So she joined her parents, and together they heard and embraced the restored gospel and were baptized by Elder John P. Greene, Brigham Young’s brother-in-law.
Because her parents were not ready to gather with the Saints in Ohio in 1833, Mary Ann struck out for Kirtland alone. There, at the age of 30, she met her long-awaited “man of God.” Hearing Brigham Young preach, she “instinctively felt drawn towards him, and … admired him so much, that when … he asked her to be his wife she unhesitatingly consented, feeling confident he was her true mate.”3
After a brief courtship, they were married on 18 February 1834, two years after Brigham’s first wife, Miriam Works, died, leaving Brigham with two young daughters. Brigham wrote in his diary that Mary Ann “took charge of my children, kept my house, and labored faithfully for the interest of my family and the kingdom.”4
Although the newlyweds were not strangers to hardship, they soon experienced even more perilous times. Mary Ann scarcely had time to organize her home before Brigham left to follow the Prophet on the march of Zion’s Camp and before mob troubles escalated in Ohio and Missouri.
In December 1837 Joseph Smith cut off from the Church approximately 40 dissenters in a “high and mighty pruning.”5 This action brought persecution, hatred, and threats of bodily harm and death to Brigham, who had vigorously testified against the malcontents and defended the Prophet. His life in peril, Brigham fled Kirtland on 22 December. Shortly thereafter, Joseph and other faithful members left Kirtland as well.
During that winter, Mary Ann and her five children had to fend for themselves while apostates terrorized them, ransacking their home in the pretended belief that Brigham was hiding there. The tormentors “used ‘threats and vile language’ that undid [Mary Ann’s] emotions until her health became frail. This was, she later told her biographer, ‘undoubtedly the severest trial of my life.’”6
In February 1838, Mary Ann, now suffering from tuberculosis, gathered her children and what few possessions the mob had not taken and undertook the long, difficult journey from Kirtland, Ohio, to Richmond, Missouri, to rejoin her husband. “He was so … shocked at the change in her appearance that his first exclamation was, ‘You look as if you were almost in your grave.’”7
Brigham could now devote himself to nursing Mary Ann to good health. The Lord also knew of her desperate need for relief and care. On 17 April 1838, Joseph Smith received a revelation temporarily relieving Brigham from his heavy Church responsibilities, thus allowing him to care primarily for his family and ailing wife.8
That salutary respite was short-lived. Tensions and hostilities between the Saints and Missourians increased until, in October 1838, Church members were again expelled from their homes. Then, in February 1839, the Young family and more than 800 other Saints were forced to leave the state; they braved the winter cold to seek refuge in Illinois. Since their wagons and animals had been confiscated, most of the destitute Saints walked.
During this difficult exodus, Brigham Young would push ahead with his family, find lodging for them, and then return to escort the weaker and orphaned Saints onward. Mary Ann and the children lived in 11 different quarters during the three-month ordeal.
Ten days after Mary Ann gave birth to Emma Alice in Montrose, Iowa Territory, on 4 September 1839, duty again called her husband away—on a mission to England. Brigham was so ill that he could not walk without help; his whole family languished with sickness as well.
At their sad parting, Mary Ann said to Elder Young, “Go and fill your mission, and the Lord will bless you, and I will do the best I can for myself and the children.”9 She trusted in God and rejoiced that she had the strength to see her husband off on his journey.
Between Nauvoo and Montrose, the Mississippi River is 1.6 kilometers wide. Necessity often required Mary Ann to make the dangerous river crossing in a skiff to obtain food. One day in late November 1839, Mary Ann was suffering from malaria, and her hungry children were crying for food.
Mary Ann tossed a tattered blanket into the boat and wrapped another around herself and the infant Emma Alice. A winter storm had come up, and a stiff north westerly wind swept across the river. Wearing a thin cotton dress and shawl, Mary Ann rowed into wind-whipped waves that soaked her and her baby.
Finally Mary Ann reached Nauvoo and visited a friend, who fed her. “Sister Young came into my house … with her baby Alice in her arms, almost fainting with cold and hunger, and dripping wet,” this sister recorded. “I tried to persuade her to stay, but she refused, saying, ‘the children at home are hungry, too.’ I shall never forget how she looked, shivering with cold and thinly clad. … She came back [from the tithing office] with a few potatoes and a little flour, for which she seemed very grateful, and … weak as she was from ague and fever, wended her way to the river bank” to row home again.10
After his return from England, Brigham became ill with what is thought to have been scarlet fever. It was winter, and the family was living in a log cabin that had a blanket for a door.
“When the fever left me on the 18th day,” Brigham wrote, “I was … so near gone that I could not close my eyes, … and my breath stopped. … [Mary Ann] threw some cold water in my face; that having no effect, she dashed a handful of strong camphor into my face and eyes, which I did not feel in the least. … She then held my nostrils … , and placing her mouth directly over mine, blew into my lungs until she filled them with air. This set my lungs in motion, and I again began to breathe.”11 That inspired treatment, now a common resuscitative technique, was not known or practiced until the 20th century.
Brigham later built his family a new home in Nauvoo, and a degree of peace and prosperity surrounded the growing city. However, before long, opposition mounted against the Saints until once again they were forced from their homes in midwinter.
On the trail west, Mary Ann put her healing talent to frequent use. She nursed Thomas L. Kane to health, after which he decided to devote himself to helping the Saints and other oppressed people. She also helped restore Eliza R. Snow’s health.
In Winter Quarters, Nebraska, “Sister Young performed a noble mission; there was sickness in almost every log cabin in the settlement, and provisions were scarce and comforts there were none. … Inquiring into their needs and bestowing medicine and attention wherever she could, [Mary Ann] was an angel of mercy in very deed.”12
Mary Ann did not leave for the Great Salt Lake Valley with her husband in the spring of 1847. Instead, she stayed behind, caring for the children and others.
Three weeks after arriving in the Salt Lake Valley, President Young returned for his family. Together they reached their new home in Utah on 20 September 1848.
Considering the privations and trials of the past, the family lived in relative peace and prosperity for many years. Yet Mary Ann’s prosperity did not alter “her demeanor towards her … neighbors. The poor were her especial care and none were turned [away] empty.”13
Mary Ann bore six children and cared for two adopted daughters as well; her son Brigham Young Jr. became an Apostle.
Mary Ann survived her husband by five years. Two years before her death on 27 June 1882, continual physical ailments caused her great suffering, as did later “severe pain which she bore with great patience and the most perfect resignation to the will of her heavenly Father.”14
Despite the tribulation in her life, Mary Ann demonstrated an unshakable reliance on the Lord. “Ever cheerful and buoyant,”15 she passed through a host of hardships with extraordinary steadiness and acceptance, “always [looking] upward from whence help would come.”16
The primary bulwark of her fortitude was her testimony. She often testified that she knew Joseph Smith was a prophet of God and that Brigham Young was his rightful successor. In her lifetime, she had seen the fulfillment of prophecies uttered by these leaders. “I know it for myself,” she said, “and I bear this testimony to all the world, that this is the everlasting Gospel, revealed by the power of God’s inspiration and the visitation of angels in the dispensations of the fulness of times.”17

Megan C., Ethan M., and Romy C. have something in common: They love reverent music. They love the way it lifts and inspires them, the way it makes them feel. And they love to see how it lifts and inspires others.
Megan, 18; Ethan, 19; and Romy, 17, also have something else in common: They all sing in their ward choir in Florida, USA. And recently the choir gave them an even greater opportunity to share their love for music by participating in an Interfaith Music Festival.
“Our community has an interfaith coalition that does a lot to bring people of different faiths together,” Ethan explains. For example, the group hosted a discussion around an Iftar dinner (the evening meal when Muslims end their daily fast during their holy month of Ramadan), organized a number of service projects such as preparing school backpacks for children in need, and held several potluck dinners, where people who didn’t know each other sat side by side at the same table and talked about foods, customs, and beliefs enjoyed in their cultures.
Members of the choir enjoy eating dinner and serving together with those of other faiths.
The coalition’s goal is, of course, to help people from different backgrounds to become friends.
“There’s a Turkish family that I always see at the interfaith dinners, and they run up to me and say, ‘We’re so happy to see you again!’” Romy says. “In a world where there’s so much persecution of religion and faith, it’s nice that we can all come together and just talk to each other.” During one of the service projects, “the ladies at another church were so sweet,” she says. “They didn’t care about anyone’s religion. They were just there to offer their help. It was refreshing.”
“We may believe different things,” Megan says, “but I’ve always respected other people’s beliefs and it’s been nice to connect with them in this setting where we all want to learn about each other.”
“Our church is one of the newer members of the coalition,” Ethan says. “So I was very appreciative of just how kind they were to us and how accepting they were. I know that in some places, people misunderstand the Church. So I’m always appreciative when people are able to accept each other’s differences and look for what we have in common.”
And one of the things all the faith groups have in common is music. The Interfaith Music Festival would be a great opportunity for believers to unite in praising God. The ward choir would be one of about half a dozen groups representing congregations throughout the city.
“There was a bell choir, a vocal duet, a large choir, a small choir, a flute-and-piano duet, and so forth,” Megan explains. “Every group was asked to do two numbers.”
Megan continues, “We wanted to make sure that what we sang would let people know that we believe in Jesus Christ and also that we believe in Heavenly Father. We wanted to create a feeling of worship.”
The choir decided on two numbers they had previously performed, “Great Things and Small Things,” by Steven Kapp Perry, and “Sacraments and Symbols,” by Janice Kapp Perry, Steven Kapp Perry, and Lynne Perry Christofferson.
“The first song is upbeat. It offers the assurance that through God, you can do anything, whether it’s relatively minor or very significant,” Ethan says. “The second song has a deep reverence. It’s almost like a chant, and it creates a real feeling of worship.”
As they prepared to sing, Ethan used a method he has used before. “I try to prioritize becoming immersed in the song,” he says. “I find that when I’m able to pay attention to the meaning of the song, I’m able to enjoy it better. Of course I make sure I can sing it properly, but I find that it’s easier for me to do that when I’m in tune with the message that it’s trying to convey. I like to put an emphasis on spiritual preparation.”
“We still had to sing in sacrament meeting and practice for other things, too,” Megan says. “But we knew the importance of the interfaith event, so we made sure the pieces were ready. We worked hard on them.”
For the second number, the 14-member choir shrunk down to a double quartet. “We would rehearse on Tuesdays, before Young Men and Young Women,” Megan says. “It made me think of the song for a whole week, for a whole month, really. I don’t usually do this, but I found the song on YouTube and kept playing it over and over. I wanted to improve. I wanted us to sing so well that we would touch other people.”
Ethan, Megan, and Romy agree that all the rehearsing had an added benefit. “When you repeat songs over and over,” Romy says, “the messages of the songs stay in your mind and in your heart.”
The choir performs at the Interfaith Music Festival.
That presence in their minds and hearts was clearly evident as the choir members sang. “Both songs were just beautiful,” Romy says. “The audience got real quiet and everyone felt the Spirit as those songs were being sung. We all felt united.”
“The first song has always been a happy song for me,” Megan says. “I feel like it had that impact on people at the festival. I had a fun time singing it and I hope they all enjoyed it as well. And the second song, the voices blended so well. I think everyone who listened to it felt a spirit of respect and awe for God.”
At the end of the evening, Megan continues, “We were able to talk with participants and audience members. I know people were asking our choir director about the songs we sang—’What kind of music was that?’ or ‘Where did you find that arrangement?’ We were able to interact with each other and talk about the music we all shared. I felt like I was able to understand them more through their songs, and that they understood us better because of ours. Music is like a window to your soul.”
What Music Means to Me
Megan: “There’s a reason we have hymns, and there’s a reason we have music in general. I think it’s because the Lord wants us to feel peace with Him. One of the main times I’m able to feel the Spirit is when I think about the sacrament hymn. It helps us to remember the Savior and all He has done for us.”
Ethan: “Music is about carrying the emotion behind a message. There’s a difference between saying, ‘God can help me through trials,’ which is good and true, and singing a hymn with that same message. It asks a little bit more of you, as the singer. It helps you to really understand that message and connect with it on a deeper level. Music serves to amplify whatever you want to say to whoever’s listening.”
Romy: “When I’m listening to sacred music, I feel closer to Jesus Christ. I know that Jesus Christ has put music on this earth so that we can rejoice and bring others unto Him. When I need to feel the Holy Ghost, I sing a hymn in my heart and mind. It’s one of my favorite ways to rejoice.”

On a trip to a nearby city in Estonia, I saw a man begging for money. Amazingly, I recognized him from when I served as a missionary in that city 10 years earlier. He was carrying a big bag of plastic bottles, just as before, to collect for recycling money. I remembered he always asked for spare change, and if you gave him some he would ask if you had any more.
I was shocked to see him. And after 10 years he was still the same––a little more gray, but it looked like he had been living the same life begging for money day after day. I thought about the wonderful 10 years I had lived in the meantime, which included marrying in the temple, gaining an education, finding a good job, and enjoying good health.
I figured this might be the last time I saw him, and I felt like I should give him something. The problem was I only had a bill that was worth more than I was willing to give. I cringed at the choice I had––give him nothing or give him more than I wanted. I decided it wouldn’t really make a big difference for me and it would make his day, so I gave him the money.
Less than two days later I found myself in a similar situation, but this time I was the one begging for mercy. I had mixed up the date for an important scholarship application. I thought I had turned it in two weeks early, but I was horrified when I double-checked the date and saw that I had sent it in one day late.
The sum of the scholarship was exactly 100 times the amount I had given to the beggar, and the irony was not lost on me. I found myself begging for mercy, both in prayer to my Heavenly Father and via email to the university officials. They said they would include the application but note it was late.
My prayer was answered and I was blessed to receive the scholarship, which financially helped my wife and me a lot. But more importantly this experience taught me a valuable lesson: are we not all beggars before God? (see Mosiah 4:19).