Gospel Story Finder

As we reach out in service to Father in Heaven’s sons and daughters, our faith will increase. I know of a young man named Gofaone Lebang who joined the church when he was about 16 years old. There was something unique about this young man; he was born with a physical disability, which meant that he was wheelchair bound ever since he was a baby. Brother Lebang has always been a very vibrant and faith-filled disciple of the Lord Jesus Christ. At the age of twenty he made the decision to serve a service mission. He was called to the Johannesburg South Africa Mission. One could not ask for a more positive individual. He always had something uplifting to say to all he came in contact with. I later had the opportunity to serve with him in the same elders quorum presidency and then on the high council. Through the years, I never once heard him complain or murmur about his physical disability but instead have always watched him move forward with faith. His willingness to serve increased the faith of all who served with and around him. Many years later he is still the same; he reaches out and ministers to others in different ways.

In the mornings, my dad calls us for scripture study and family prayer. It sometimes takes us half an hour or more to finally get up and move to the living room. One morning, instead of calling us with his voice, he called our cell phones. Before my sister’s phone even rang three times, she was up, and she responded to the caller in a soft and sweet voice only to find out it was my father calling from the living room.
Can you see how we sometimes follow the wrong influence? How much easier it is for us to respond to the ring of the mobile phone than to be on our knees praying to our Heavenly Father. We enjoy a long conversation on our phones but don’t want long prayers. We enjoy a text message from friends but neglect the written message of a loving Heavenly Father through the scriptures. We must listen to our prophet and leaders and give heed to their message.

One type of handicraft is making Samoan baskets.
First I go out and cut some long green leaves from a type of palm tree called laupaono. With a long bush knife I cut off the sharp edges from the leaves. Then I take them out in the sun and leave them for two weeks. The sun dries them out and they turn a brown colour.
Next I roll each leaf into a bundle and tie these bundles with a piece from the leaf. These bundles are left in the sun again for about a week until they are light brown in colour.
I then take them into the house and cut the leaves into long narrow strips. If I want two or more colours for my basket, I dye the leaves different colours.
I decide on the size, design, and shape of the basket. With some heavy wire or pieces of bamboo tied together, I make the shape I want. Then I weave the leaves around that shape. When I am finished, I have a nice basket.
Tagaloa Burgess, Age 11Pesega, Upolu, Western Samoa

My name is Tanoh Ahoukou Mariette, I am a member of the Abobo East Côte d’Ivoire Stake. I would like to share my testimony about believing in God even in the middle of the storms of life.
Due to financial difficulties from my parents, I had to drop out of primary school at the age of eight in a rural area in the east of the country. At the age of 18, I married a young man from my village whom I loved very much and with whom I had four children.
As a young couple, life was difficult, but I had small gainful side jobs to support my husband. Subsequently, he was recruited into the national army with the corollary of a better and more stable life for my children and me.
Once, a young man came to our house and wanted to be a tutor at home for my children. Oddly enough, I had sympathy for him, but my husband didn’t want it. I had to undertake to pay the young man myself with my meagre means. I later learned that he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. This would prove to be precious for later.
After several years of marriage, my husband ended up leaving our home, leaving me alone with six young children. My whole world turned upside down. I had no sufficient source of income to take care of my children and me.
Depressed and seeing no prospect in front of me, I decided one morning to end my life. My last-born son was five years old at the time came to me unexpectedly (probably sent by God) and said, “No mom, don’t do that. What do you want us to become without you?” I hugged my son Martin and we cried together. I felt a sense of guilt and shame. But I had decided to live.
Life was still difficult, so much so that I left home for a brief time to give myself moments of reflection. I went to a friend’s house outside of Abidjan. One day around 6 am, a voice said to me: “Get up quickly and join your children in Abidjan”.
When I arrived, my children taught me that they should be baptized at The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, whose missionaries had previously taught my children, but to whom I paid little attention because I was not attracted to religions. I was therefore invited to attend the baptism of my children at the Quatre Etages Ward.
Bishop Etian’s speech had a positive impact on me. It was the story of the “King with the Severed Finger” told by Muslim folk wisdom. A king had a finger cut off during the hunt and imprisoned his advisor who told him to let Allah (God) prevail in all things. Sometime later the king and his retinue were captured in the bush by cannibals who did not want him because of his disability. He was therefore the only one released and his life spared. He ran to deliver his servant, apologizing profusely. The latter replied that God is never wrong and that everything works together for our good. He said, “If you hadn’t put me in jail, I would be with you, captured, devoured by the cannibals, and probably dead today.”
From that moment on, I made a firm resolution to take my life and that of my children totally into my own hands by being baptized. From then on, I decided to forgive my husband for the wrongs I had suffered. My husband is still not in our home, but I have a more brotherly and kinder relationship with him through the power of forgiveness. I undertook income-generating activities that have allowed me to provide for my family and especially to ensure the schooling of my children for more than 15 years. Today, two of my daughters are starting careers as teachers in public schools. My last son has just been admitted to the university for which I am looking for ways to finance the courses. They make me proud. I have been able to go to the Accra Ghana Temple where I was endowed and sealed to my deceased parents.
I hope one day to be able to remarry in the temple to have an eternal marriage. The lessons I draw from my life is that everything works together for the good of one who believes in God.
As told to Sadia Zouzou, Côte d’Ivoire communication director

During the time I was a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood, I was called to be president of the quorum. With the urging and assistance of a dedicated and inspired quorum adviser, I worked diligently to ensure that each of the young men attended our meetings regularly. Two of them were a particular challenge, but with our perseverance and love and a little persuasion, they began to attend meetings and participate in quorum activities. However, as time passed and they left the ward to pursue education and employment, each of them drifted back into inactivity.
Over the years I have seen each of these two dear friends at various functions. Whenever I do, I place a hand on their shoulder and remind them, “I’m still your quorum president, and I won’t let go. You mean so much to me, and I want you to enjoy the blessings which come with activity in the Church.” They know I love them and that I’ll never ever give up on them.

When Joseph Ahuna was attending BYU in the 1970s, he was a member of the performing group Young Ambassadors. As a college student, he traveled throughout the world performing with the group. His specialties were the Samoan fire dance and the hoop dance, popular in Native American cultures.

After he married, he and his wife, Janice, decided their children should learn these same dances. When the Ahuna children learned to walk, they also learned to dance. First came Joseph Jr., then Ruth and David and Angela, and finally Michael and James.

"I’ve been dancing since before I was born," says Ruth, 19. She’s smiling, and she decides she better clarify. "When my mom was expecting me, she started dancing hula with my older brother right up on the stage." Or so she’s told. Ruth doesn’t exactly remember her dancing "debut."

Christmas was still a few weeks away, but Truman and his family had already put up the Christmas tree. He was excited as he thought about the presents he hoped to see under the tree on Christmas morning.
A few days later Truman walked into the living room and saw there was one small box under the tree. It was wrapped in red paper and tied with a green bow.
Our first present! Who sent it? Was it Grandma?
No.
Is it from one of my cousins?
No.
Truman was confused.
Well, then who sent it?
You’ll have to wait and see. All we can say is that it is a very special gift.
As days passed, more presents appeared under the tree, but Truman kept wondering about that first red present with the green bow. Where did it come from?
On Christmas morning, Truman raced to wake up his brothers and parents.
Wake up! It’s Christmas!
After arriving at the tree, Truman was excited to see the presents underneath it.
Truman, you may open the small box with the red paper and green bow.
Truman was excited to finally see what was inside.
Truman removed the lid and found a few small items. He pulled them out one at a time—a picture of Jesus Christ, a poem about Jesus’s birth, and a star. Truman showed everyone the picture, and Dad read the poem.
I put the box under the tree so we could remember the real reason we celebrate Christmas.
Truman was happy to remember Jesus.
Dad, you put the box under the tree, but now I know who really gave us this gift.
Who?
Heavenly Father.

When Alice’s mother and sisters decided to become members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Alice was only six and too young to be baptized with the rest of her family in Bahnhofstr, Germany. Because they often talked of the wonderful experience of baptism and the joy their membership in the Church had brought them, Alice could hardly wait to be eight so she could be baptized too.
Alice planned and dreamed how she would be baptized on her birthday. “Not sometime after,” she insisted, “but on that very day.”
However, three days before Alice turned eight, she awoke with a severe headache, and the next day she was too ill to go to school.
The doctor who was called said she would have to stay home and in bed for at least a week. Alice’s big eyes filled with tears of disappointment.
The next day Alice was even more miserable, and her temperature was higher despite the medicine the doctor had prescribed. Mother was puzzled and concerned, but Alice felt worse about not being baptized on the very day of her birthday than she did about all her aches and pains and fever.
The afternoon before Alice’s birthday, her mother started into the sickroom. But she stopped at the door when she saw Alice kneeling in fervent prayer on her bed. This little girl was pleading with Heavenly Father for fulfillment of her great desire to become a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
On the morning of her birthday, Alice got up, dressed, and prepared for baptism. Her fever was gone and she felt well and happy. Some hours later her mother checked Alice’s temperature again and it still registered normal.
God had answered Alice’s sincere prayer. That evening she was baptized!

Fatima skipped down the street. She was walking home from school with Mamá. She hummed a song while she skipped.
“Ms. Lopez asked us to learn a song,” said Fatima. “Can you teach me one?”
Mamá smiled. “Of course!”
When they got home, Mamá and Fatima sang songs together. They sang lots of songs. But they hadn’t sung her favorite one.
“Can I sing a Primary song?” Fatima asked.
“Sure,” Mamá said.
Fatima sang “Families Can Be Together Forever.” She practiced the words with Mamá. Then she sang it alone. She sang it until she got all the words right.
At school, Fatima was excited to share her song with her class.
“Does someone want to share their song?” Ms. Lopez said.
Fatima raised her hand. “I will!”
She stood up and smiled. “I have a family here on earth. They are so good to me,” she sang.
While she sang, Fatima felt happy. And she remembered the whole song! Everyone in her class clapped.
After class, Mamá came to pick up Fatima. Ms. Lopez spoke to Mamá.
“She sang a beautiful song. And she didn’t seem scared at all.”
Fatima smiled. So did Mamá.
“We sing beautiful songs every week at church!” Fatima said.
“You can come with us anytime,” Mamá said.
Ms. Lopez smiled. “Thank you.”
Fatima sang as she walked home with Mamá. She liked sharing a song with her class. Singing made her feel happy.
This story took place in Guatemala.

It’s amazing how the Lord works. I had been going through a phase in my life where I had no self-worth, thought I was ugly, and didn’t think I had any talent. When the April New Era came, I sat down to have lunch and decided to read it while I ate. I flipped through the pages to Q&A, because that is the first thing I read. There was my answer. The Lord had sent it to me through the New Era, because He knew I always read it. Thank you for doing such a good job on the New Era. It is surely an inspired work of the Church.Name withheld

I recently was standing at the luggage retrieval at the Salt Lake City International Airport when a woman came to me and asked my name. I recognized her as a former South Rich High School classmate from years ago. She had changed since I had last seen her. You all know how you feel at the old dreaded high school reunion. She had added some gray hair and a few wrinkles. (Of course, I hadn’t changed.) It was obvious that she was meeting her missionary child, who was returning from a mission. It surprised me. While she was yet in school, her family, who were not members of the Church, had moved into our small community. Her name was Alice Gomez. She was about the same age as me and my friends. I remembered that she was friendly and always polite but that she never did attend any of our Church meetings.
I said to her, “Alice, tell me your story. You are obviously now an active member of the Church, but you never joined while we were going to school.”
Her answer was condemning: “No one ever asked me!” Wow! Our quorum really dropped the ball on that one.
Recently reported to me was the story of a priests quorum in Jamaica that decided to help the missionaries with their work. So this quorum of young men went knocking on doors, trying to find appointments for the missionaries. They soon found more referrals than the missionaries could handle.
Members of a priests quorum in Kaysville, Utah, decided they would not lose one member of their quorum. The whole quorum would go to a less-active member’s home and have their Sunday lesson sitting around the less-active boy’s bed. Soon that young man joined his quorum in taking the Sunday lesson to another home.
As of the year 2003, there are more than 26,000 wards and branches in the Church, with approximately 78,000 deacons, teachers, and priests quorums. Talk about an army!
The contribution the quorums of the Aaronic Priesthood could make to the work of converting, retaining, and activating other members of their quorums is enormous.
If 16-year-old Mormon could be the commanding officer of a large military army, and if Jeremiah as a child could have words put in his mouth by the Almighty God, and if Timothy could be wise as he was, then each young man within the sound of my voice can rise to the challenge of his quorum responsibilities.
The responsibilities of the Aaronic Priesthood quorums are no less important than the responsibilities of elders quorums or high priests groups. Remember, they hold “the keys of the ministering of angels.” We need young men to stand up in their calling, knowing of their ordained right to act in the office to which they are appointed.
I testify that these Aaronic Priesthood quorums hold the holy priesthood of God. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

“For a long time,” says Jhon Tobar, 17, of Quito, “I let myself be carried along by my friends, and I didn’t have a good relationship with my parents. But I have learned that if you lose the trust of your parents and brothers and sisters, it’s like being alone. I just had an interview with my bishop this morning—my bishop is my dad. I can say now that I have no better friend than my own father. I love him a lot. He is my best example.”

Illustration by Ben Simonsen
At my school a lot of people have boyfriends and girlfriends. On my first day of school as an eighth grader, I met someone named Paul. We got along well together. Paul was a great friend.
The next day after school he asked me out on a date. I told him I couldn’t, and he asked why. I told him I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and that we’re not supposed to date until age 16. Paul asked why, and I realized that I didn’t actually know.
That night I went home and pondered Paul’s question. I did research on LDS.org and read my scriptures. I found a quote by President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008): “The Lord has made us attractive one to another for a great purpose. But this very attraction becomes as a powder keg unless it is kept under control. … It is for this reason that the Church counsels against early dating.”1
I also looked in For the Strength of Youth. It says dating “can help you learn and practice social skills, develop friendships, have wholesome fun, and eventually find an eternal companion.”2
The next day I showed Paul the For the Strength of Youth booklet. Other people saw Paul reading it, and my LDS friends helped me answer my classmates’ questions. I was happy to have an answer to Paul’s question.
For the Strength of Youth says that dating before age 16 and forming serious relationships in our youth can lead to immorality and limit the number of people we meet.3 My mother also tells me that we shouldn’t date before 16 because it can distract us from studies and opportunities that can be vital to success in the future. I’ve seen friends of mine become depressed because of an emotional breakup at age 13.
I was glad I was able to find out for myself why we shouldn’t date before age 16 and then give Paul an answer without hurting his feelings. I’ve made a great friend, and I hope we will be friends for a long time. I am thankful the Lord has given us friends and the opportunity to date at the appropriate age so that we may all one day find faithful eternal companions.

I looked at them as they finished their story; their faces shone with happiness. In what I thought would be a closing question, I asked in halting Spanish what they were now doing in the Church. Among them were a bishop, a Sunday School superintendent, another bishop, an executive secretary, and a mission presidency counselor.
I turned to the father, Manuel, and asked what he was doing. He replied that he was serving as a counselor in a bishopric. I was ready to finish with one last item when one of the brothers added that the bishop to whom their father was serving as a counselor was one of their brothers.
Then came one of the choice moments of my interviewing life. Turning to the bishop son, Víctor, I asked, “How does it feel to have your father as your counselor?”
With poignancy, he gently answered, “I have great love for my father. He has always counseled me well in my life. He has been an example to me. He has been my inspiration. When I have had difficulties in my life he has helped me. Who else could I ask to counsel me but my father?”
Tears began to well up in my eyes, and I slowly turned to Manuel: “How do you feel about serving your son as a counselor?”
In the great dignity natural to the Spanish tongue, Manuel Cerda softly, slowly, and in an emotionally quivering voice said, “I have great love for my sons. It is an honor to counsel them. It is an honor to advise others to listen to them. I believe I feel something like God the Father felt when he said, ‘This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased. Hear ye him.’ (Matt. 17:5.) I understand well love between father and son.”
I turned and went around the circle again. “What,” I asked, “brought about this family love?”
The father, Manuel Cerda summed up the answers of the others—“It was the gospel that changed our home. It taught us to see each other as eternal friends. It has taught me affection and love. It has taught me to esteem my children. We fight against anything that seeks to divide us, that affects our esteem for each other. The truth has changed our lives.”

Sam pedaled his bike as fast as he could up the hill. He leaned forward. The air whipped through his hair. His friend Liam pedaled next to him.
“Getting tired?” Liam said.
“No way!” Sam said.
Their friend Eric was already at the park at the top of the hill.
“Komm schon! Come on!” he yelled.
Sam and Liam reached the top of the hill. The boys parked their bikes and sat under a tree.
Liam picked up a rock and threw it. “I’m bored.” There weren’t many places to go in their small village in Switzerland.
“Me too,” Eric said. He scratched the dirt with a stick.
“We could keep biking,” Sam said.
Liam scrunched up his face. “That’s all we ever do.”
“Let’s do something funny!” Eric said. He hopped up and walked over to the bike rack, where lots of bikes were parked. Sam and Liam followed him.
Sam’s stomach felt tight. Sometimes what Eric and Liam thought was funny wasn’t funny to him. Eric and Liam liked to tease other kids and say rude things in class. But maybe this time would be different.
Besides, there weren’t many boys in Sam’s class. If he wasn’t friends with Eric and Liam, who would he be friends with?
“Let’s take the valve caps off all the tires,” Eric whispered. “We can hide them by the tree.” He knelt down by a shiny red bike and twisted a little plastic cap off one of the tires.
Liam laughed. “Yes! That will be so funny.”
Sam sighed. Nope. This time wasn’t different. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe we should just go.”
Eric shoved Sam’s arm. “Aw, come on!” he said. “No one is even looking.”
“They’re just little parts,” Liam said. “No one will even notice they’re gone.”
Sam tried to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. Taking the valve caps wouldn’t ruin the bikes. He shrugged and nodded.
The three boys quickly took all the valve caps off the bike tires and ran back to the tree. They hid all the caps under a rock and sat down to watch the bikes. Liam and Eric were giggling.
Soon a man walked up, unlocked his bike, and rode off.
“See? He didn’t even notice,” Liam said.
But I did, Sam thought.
The rest of the day, Sam couldn’t stop thinking about the valve caps. He wished he could give them back, but he had no way to find the bikes’ owners. He knelt down and told Heavenly Father about it.
“I feel awful,” Sam said. “I wish I had never done it. Please forgive me, Heavenly Father.”
The next day, Sam and his friends rode their bikes to the park again.
Once again, Eric said, “Let’s take the valve caps!”
Once again, Liam agreed.
Sam remembered his prayer. And this time, he felt a little braver.
“I don’t think we should,” he said.
“Why not?” Liam said, frowning. “No one even noticed yesterday.”
“I wouldn’t want someone messing with my bike,” Sam said. Before either boy could answer, he hopped on his bike. “Race you to the bakery!” he yelled. Then he started pedaling as fast as he could.
Eric and Liam grabbed their bikes too.
“No fair! You got a head start,” Liam called.
Sam grinned as his friends raced after him. He whispered a thank you to Heavenly Father. He felt much better.
This story took place in Switzerland.

Rain poured from the sky as Katie dashed from under the awning of Fitzgerald’s. She vaulted into the passenger seat of the car waiting at the curb with her brother, Mike, at the wheel.
“It would start to rain as I get off work,” Katie said dismally, flipping down the visor mirror to stare at her sodden hair.
Mike laughed at the face she was making and pulled into traffic.
“Oh! I almost forgot,” Katie said. “Fitzgerald’s is having a sale on men’s white dress shirts—in case you need a few more for your collection.”
“I think Mom bought three or four dozen. Do you think 10 ties is enough?”
“I’d better send you some for Christmas.”
“Don’t forget socks,” Mike reminded her. “And cookies.”
“They’ll be stale by the time they get to Brazil.”
“I can’t go two years without chocolate chip cookies.”
Katie said softly, “I can’t believe you’re going to be gone in a week.”
Mike pulled into their driveway. The rain kept falling. “Gotta make a run for it,” he said.
Katie reached out a hand. “No, Mike, wait. You know, this might be our last chance to talk.”
“You mean you’re never going to speak to me again?” Mike asked in mock horror.
“You know what I mean. Tomorrow Dad’s taking you fishing. Sunday is the farewell, Monday is the good-bye party, and Tuesday you drive to Utah while I work.”
Katie’s eyes blurred as she looked through the drumming rain. She and Mike were only 11 months apart and had grown up practically like twins. They had run track together, fished, camped, had the same friends, and gone to Saturday night dances together. When no one else would listen, Mike always did. But now it was hard to express what she wanted to ask him.
“What’s up, Katie?”
“It’s just … why are you going on a mission?”
“Well,” he began, “I’ve taken the missionary prep class, gone on splits with the full-time elders, saved my money …” He stopped. “I guess that doesn’t really answer the question, huh? I’m going because I’ve got a testimony of the gospel. Does that sound too spiritual?”
Katie shook her head. “You really have a testimony? No doubts, nothing?”
He looked at her questioningly. “I’ve never had doubts; neither have you. Hey, you’ve been Laurel class president.”
“Being the Laurel class president doesn’t automatically give you a testimony.”
Mike stared at her in disbelief. “We’ve been together our whole lives: church, seminary, sunrise testimony meetings; of course you have a testimony.”
Katie’s voice shook. “No, I don’t Mike.” I’ve never told this to anyone, but I really don’t know. How can people say they know?”
“I can’t believe you’re saying this,” Mike said softly.
“Don’t look so shocked, Michael. It’s not the end of the world.”
“How can you go on a mission or get married in the temple? All the big things, I just don’t get it.”
“I’m not planning on getting married next month.”
Mike shook his head. “Your testimony is the most important thing in the world.”
“But what is a testimony?” she challenged.
Meeting the rise in her voice, he quickly said, “A knowledge and belief that the Church is true.”
“How do you get it?”
“Through study, prayer, fasting.”
“The usual, typical answers. Is that how you got it?”
“Of course.”
“How did you know?”
“I just felt it. I’ve always known.”
“But what does it feel like?”
He sighed. “I don’t know how to explain.”
“No one can tell me. Not my seminary teacher, not my leaders, and not you.”
“I thought I knew you better than anyone else, and now it’s like I don’t.”
Katie bit her lip. “You’re not helping me. You’re only making me feel bad.”
“But you have to have a testimony,” he insisted.
“Right.” She opened the car door. “Out of everybody in this world, I thought you’d be the one to listen and understand. I wish I hadn’t brought it up.” Katie got out of the car and slammed the door.
The next morning, Katie stayed in bed until after Dad and Mike had left for the lake. When she came downstairs, she found her mother at the kitchen table eating breakfast.
“I’m just wondering what’s up between you and Mike?” Mom said.
Katie became wary. “Nothing.”
“Actually,” Mom confessed, “Mike told us about your conversation last night.”
Katie set down the milk. “He had no right to tell you that! I confided in him.”
“You’ve been so close. I think he was very shaken by what you told him,” Mom said soothingly.
“Now my whole family thinks I’m apostatizing.”
“I never knew you had concerns about your feelings. I wish you had come to Dad and me.”
“It seems like everybody has a testimony, except me. I thought I was weird or something.”
Mom was thoughtful. “There are probably more people in your shoes than you realize, especially teenagers. We’re not born with a testimony. It takes time, lots of prayer, and seeking for the Spirit. Growing up in the Church can make it harder because it’s always around you. From the time you’re in nursery, it’s something you hear about and learn about every day. It might be harder to recognize because it’s so much a part of you.”
“You’re probably right,” Katie admitted.
Mom leaned forward. “Of course, I don’t recommend going out in the world and ignoring your standards just to see how other people live. Your father and I did that before the missionaries came to our door 20 years ago. We had even decided not to have children.”
“I didn’t know that,” Katie said.
“It’s a sad way to live. When I felt the Holy Ghost bearing the truth to my heart that what the elders were telling me was true, it was so different from anything I’d ever felt, I didn’t have any doubts it was from God.”
“I wish I could have that,” Katie said. “But sometimes I don’t think I feel anything.”
“You might be feeling more than you realize. It just takes careful listening. Having a desire to know is the first step. It will come if you seek it. Jesus Christ himself told us that.”
Even after talking with her mother, Katie had a hard time feeling forgiveness toward Mike. She felt like he’d betrayed her deepest feelings. On Tuesday morning she stood barefoot in the damp grass and saw her family off. She hugged Mom and Dad, then stood awkwardly as Mike put his arms around her and squeezed her.
He whispered, “Please don’t be mad anymore. I need your love to make it the next two years. Write to me, okay?”
She nodded, unable to speak. The car pulled away, and Dad tooted the horn.
She was alone. Even though she had to work every day until her parents returned, the next few days would be time by herself. Time to really think, meditate, read, pray and hopefully get some answers.
She went into the house and grabbed her scriptures. A testimony of the gospel, of the Church. It sounded trite, somehow, and that had always bothered her. There were so many doctrines to have a testimony of. What did it really mean?
She turned to the Topical Guide under testimony and testify and read until she had to get ready for work. The basic foundation was a testimony of Jesus Christ, which made sense. That’s where she needed to start.
A few minutes after Katie checked in at work, she was throwing a pile of newspapers out when a headline in the metro section caught her eye: “Top 10 Reasons People Pick Their Church.” She put it in her purse.
The words ran through her mind. How could there be more than one or two reasons people decide which church to join? Wasn’t the church’s beliefs and doctrine the most important thing?
After her shift, Katie spread open the article. A journalist had conducted a local survey among members of various churches and asked them to list the reasons they had chosen the church they currently attended. The results had been listed in order of the most popular.
The church had a good day-care center close to work.
The church had a good preschool or private school.
The church was close to where they lived.
Their friends attended that church.
They liked the beauty of the church.
The church had a good choir they wanted to join.
The church had a youth program.
They had grown up attending that church.
They liked the minister.
They agreed with the doctrines or beliefs.
Katie set down the paper. Incredible. What she had assumed to be the number one reason was actually the last reason people in her community picked their church.
Had she been going to church because of social reasons and not because of a testimony? But it wasn’t because she didn’t want a testimony. She did. It just seemed like such an elusive thing. She almost felt guilty that she would be going to BYU without a testimony.
Every night that week she lay in bed thinking about the Savior, the scriptures she had read, and her pleading prayers for answers. After several days Katie finally felt the troubled, worried feelings disappearing. She knew she was beginning to feel peace. Her testimony would come, just as Mom said it would. She had to have confidence in the Lord.
Katie sat up and switched on the lamp. She picked up her scriptures and went back to section 9 of the Doctrine and Covenants. She’d read the verses about having a burning in her heart so often she had it memorized. Why couldn’t she have that burning?
Slowly she turned the pages, reading verses at random. Section 6 caught her eye. The Lord was speaking to Oliver Cowdery. “Cast your mind upon the night that you cried unto me in your heart, that you might know concerning the truth of these things. Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?” (D&C 6:22–23).
Katie sank back against the pillows. She knew she had felt peace. And now she knew it was from God. She glanced down at the page and another passage seemed to strike at her heart: “Be faithful and diligent in keeping the commandments of God, and I will encircle thee in the arms of my love. Behold, I am Jesus Christ, the Son of God” (D&C 6:20–21).
Oh, to feel the love of the Savior as if she were encircled by his arms! Tears came to her eyes as she thought about Mike. She shouldn’t have let him go without telling him she loved him. She thought he had betrayed her, but now she realized that she had deserted him also.
It was almost midnight, but she couldn’t go to sleep. She grabbed her pen and started to write.
Dear Mike, I’ve finally had some questions answered. Probably the best person answered them, too. The one that counts. Maybe I wanted to be struck by lightning or have a revelation or something. But it was even better than that. Now I can know deep inside my heart, where it will never leave.
I’m sorry for how I acted when you left for Utah. I guess I was angry with you for breaking my confidence, but now I know I hurt you also and I wish I could go back and re-do all your last days at home. Would you please forgive me? I do know that you’re going to be a great missionary, and I’m rooting for you! With all my love, Your sis, Katie.
She folded the letter, got in her pajamas, and went to find her brother’s address.

One of the people who influenced me most was my Uncle Jimmy. He was 13, just six years older than I was, and he became like my older brother. Uncle Jimmy was lots of fun. He’d hook up a sled to our big dog, Tony, and take me for a ride over the ice and snow.
At Christmastime, we often went together to hunt for a Christmas tree. After finding the right tree, we cut it down and brought it home. Grandmother popped lots of popcorn for us to string and gave us colored paper to make into ornaments.
One of my jobs was to help Uncle Jimmy on his delivery rounds in the milk truck. One of my older uncles drove, and we would run to the doorstep of each house, pick up the empty milk bottles, and leave full bottles in their place.
Wherever Uncle Jimmy went, I went. And since Uncle Jimmy went to church, so did I. Sundays started awfully early. First I went out to help feed and milk the cows. Then I came home, cleaned up, and dressed for church. I didn’t own a suit, but my mom and dad made sure my best clothes were clean. When I turned eight, I was baptized by my Uncle Grant.
After Grandpa Giles died, there was arguing about how to operate the farm. Eventually the family business fell apart, and my family moved to Kaysville, Utah.
When I was 14, our family moved back to Manti. I had a bedroom upstairs, and my only window faced the Manti Temple. I spent a lot of nights looking at the temple, wondering what my future would hold.
When I was in my late teens, I began to think about serving a mission. By then, my father had died and my mother didn’t have very much money. I felt a lot of pressure to stay home and help my mother. Then one night I went up into the hayloft to think and pray. There I had a clear and strong impression: I needed to serve a mission.
That was the best decision I had ever made. It changed my life. Doctrine and Covenants 31:5 became a guide: “Therefore, thrust in your sickle with all your soul, and your sins are forgiven you, and … your family shall live.” I decided to trust that the Lord would take care of my family while I worked hard on my mission. And the Lord was faithful to His promise. My mother was well taken care of while I was away.
While I was on my mission, I traveled for a few days with Elder Spencer W. Kimball, then of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. I was his temporary driver and companion. It was the first time I had been so close to an Apostle of the Lord. I heard him pray and testify. I saw what he focused on, what he talked about, and what he was like when he was not in public. I saw how he treated other people and how thoughtful he was of their needs. I decided that this was the kind of man I wanted to become.
Boys and girls, if you do good things on your own, your parents will eventually praise you for it. In part because of my mission, my mother became active in the Church. Honoring your parents doesn’t always mean doing exactly what they do. It means doing what Heavenly Father wants you to do. Even if your mom and dad don’t go to church, you still can. Even if they don’t keep the Word of Wisdom, you still can. If you will stand on your own two feet and be good, you will bring great honor to your parents’ name.

In 2019 I was called to the Philippines Quezon City Mission. Serving there was like living a dream—I’d always loved the Filipino culture and really wanted to learn Tagalog. But my missionary experience also taught me the true nature of our heavenly parents, and when I returned home to Samoa last year, I felt a strong desire to see my family sealed to each other for time and all eternity.
We have some work to do before we can achieve that goal. My parents are still new to the gospel and continue to learn. My brother is still finding his path, exploring if a mission is in his future. Fiasili and I continue to persevere. We are determined to “press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope, and a love of God and of all men” (2 Nephi 31:20), as we strive to help deepen our family’s conversion.

Every day last autumn when mail was delivered in Baytown, Texas, one six-year-old boy found a letter addressed just to him. “It would make me happy when I wasn’t feeling too happy,” says Lance Brunson, who was confined to his home with complications from a severe skin disease.
The letters were from an “older” friend, eleven-year-old Sarah Ferguson, affectionately called “Little Miss Sunshine” by Lance’s family. Sarah has been writing and sending letters to Lance since mid-October 1988. “She has really been a beacon of light for us,” says Joy Brunson, Lance’s mother.
Sarah first learned about Lance’s condition from her mother, Melanie Ferguson, who had taught Lance in Primary in Baytown Ward, Houston Texas East Stake. Sister Ferguson and Lance’s classmates put together a card to send to Lance after his illness forced him to stay at home. Sarah liked the idea and decided to send one too—and has kept sending them ever since.
“I try to give Lance something to do, something to make him happy,” Sarah says. She admits she finds some of her ideas in greeting cards, but her letters are original, with handmade cards, puzzles, quizzes, riddles, and art lessons.
The rare skin disease Lance has is caused by some of his internal organs—kidneys, pancreas, spleen—not functioning to capacity. It causes severe itching and burning and peeling skin. For a time, Lance couldn’t stand to wear any clothes and could only wrap up in a sheet or blanket.
His mother says, “For one period of six weeks, Lance couldn’t sleep for two or three days at a time. He would lie for days curled up in the fetal position. It was his worst time. And during this time, Sarah’s letters arrived daily. Sometimes Lance was too sick to look at them, but he would smile when we showed him the letter. And most often that was the only smile we saw from him all day.”
“If we didn’t get any other mail, we always got Sarah’s letter,” Lance says. “Even when she was sick!” he exclaims. “When she had a bad case of flu, she still wrote every day.”
Lance’s gratitude to Sarah is spoken with childlike simplicity, “Thank you for sending me all these letters. I love you.”
What does Sarah think about her acts of kindness? “It’s not that special, really,” she shyly comments. However, the community of Baytown feels Sarah’s heroic efforts are special. She was featured in a local newspaper story and honored by a civic service organization that awarded her a plaque now hanging in city hall.
Ask her why she kept sending letters daily for those first few months, and she answers, “Because Lance’s mother appreciated it so much and said it made Lance happy. Besides, I know how it feels to be sick and at home. My father has been sick ever since I can remember. I know how he feels. It gets boring, and you need something to keep you busy.” Sarah’s father, Ira, has been going through operations and skin grafts for the past nine years after suffering severe burns in an accident at his work.
Sister Brunson expresses her appreciation for what Sarah has been doing for Lance. “She is sacrificing her time, talent, and energy for my child,” she says. “The humble spirit of this incredible young lady has richly blessed my home and family.”
Lance is feeling better now. He attends school and church some of the time, and he was well enough to participate with Sarah and other ward members in a road show last spring. But his trials are not yet over. He has days when he is in great discomfort. And, although he sees Sarah more often now, he still gets a letter at least once a week from her.
Because of the six-year age difference, Sarah and Lance don’t have a lot to talk about with each other. But one night last spring after the road show practice, Sarah softly said, “Good-bye, Lance.” And Lance turned and smiled at her and simply said back, “Good-bye, Sarah.” Lance’s mother comments, “Although it was just a brief farewell, you could see this bond—a look in their eyes that they have shared something. A great deal of love passed between them.”

One way that he showed his love is particularly special. At the beginning of each school year, at the request of the schools, my parents would meet with my teacher to talk about me and the coming term. Every year during these visits, my dad would find out from the teacher where my desk was. He would then take a few of his business cards and carefully hide them throughout my school supplies, where I would be sure to find them.
Every year it was a surprise, since I would forget about the cards from the year before. After I found the first one, it would become a game to search for the others. The best part about these little treasures was that my dad had personalized each one. On the back of every card was a message from him—things like “Have a good day, Justin. Love, Dad” or “I pray for you every day. Love, Dad.” My favorite was a simple and perfect “I love you, Justin. Love, Dad.”