Gospel Story Finder

Crunch, crunch, crunch. Andrew swallowed his popcorn and grabbed another handful.
His older brother, Caleb, plopped down on the couch beside him. “Hey, can I have some?”
Andrew didn’t look away from the TV. “No.”
“Aw, come on. You can share.”
Caleb reached for the bowl, but Andrew snatched it away.
“No! I already told you before. Don’t ask again!”
“Fine.” Caleb got up and left the room.
The next day, Andrew went into the kitchen. Caleb was making some sushi with rice, seaweed, and canned pork.
Andrew’s mouth watered. “Can I have some?”
“No,” Caleb said.
That made Andrew really mad. He ran downstairs to tell Dad.
“Why is Caleb being so selfish?” he asked.
Dad frowned. “I saw yesterday that you wouldn’t share your popcorn. Why should Caleb share with you after you didn’t share with him?”
“Because he’s my brother!” Andrew said.
“Then why didn’t you share with him?”
“He never shares with me either! Besides, I made it for myself, not him,” Andrew said. But he felt a little bad. Maybe it was mean of him not to share.
“Did you know that in Korea, sharing is really important?” Dad asked. Andrew’s family was from Korea. “Sharing is a way to show someone you care about them. So if you don’t share, it’s kind of like saying that you don’t care about them.”
“But I do care about Caleb.”
Andrew thought about what Jesus might do. He remembered how Jesus loved everyone—even those who were unkind to Him.
“I think I’m going to share with Caleb tomorrow and see how it turns out,” he told Dad.
Dad smiled. “I think that’s a good idea.”
When Andrew went to bed that night, he thought about other nice things he could do for Caleb. He was excited to start sharing!
The next morning, Andrew woke up to a surprise. Caleb had made breakfast just for him!
“Dad talked to me about sharing,” Caleb said. “I want to do better. So I made this for you.”
“Thanks!” Andrew said. “I want to do better too.”
Later that day, Andrew and Caleb watched a movie. Andrew let Caleb pick which one. Then he made some popcorn just for Caleb! He looked inside the bowl. It was like the popcorn was saying, “EAT ME!” But Andrew didn’t take any. He gave Caleb the bowl and said, “This is all yours. I’m sorry I didn’t share before.”
Andrew shared with Caleb all week. He let Caleb read his books. He let Caleb use his markers. He let Caleb play with his favorite toy. He even gave Caleb an extra turn when they were playing a game.
The more Andrew shared with Caleb, the more Caleb shared with him! Soon they were doing nice things for each other all the time. Andrew knew that Heavenly Father was helping him share with his brother. Andrew wasn’t perfect like Jesus, but he was trying to be more like Him every day.
This story took place in the USA.
Illustration by Adam Howling

The power of the priesthood and the importance of its restoration and blessings came to have special meaning in my life when I was the age of many of you. I was just 15. My mother and father were miles away from our home, and my grandmother was staying with me. While my parents were away, a serious ear infection developed, and I was rushed to the hospital. The infection required major surgery and was carried out immediately. Following the operation, I overheard one of the doctors tell a nurse that the damage to my ear had been so severe that I would permanently lose my hearing and my equilibrium.

When my parents arrived at the hospital and realized the seriousness of my situation, they knew what to do. My father and another Melchizedek Priesthood holder, having the power and authority to act in the name of God, administered to me, using the oil that had been consecrated by the priesthood for the healing of the sick. My father placed his hands upon my shaven head, which was mostly wrapped in bandages, and gave me a blessing.

My mother was also impressed that she should place my name on the prayer roll of the Alberta Temple where those in attendance would join their faith in prayer for me. It was the first time I knew that people could have their name placed on the prayer roll in the temple. In time, through faith and the power of the priesthood, my healing was complete.

There have been times in my life when I felt as if there was no hope for me to be happy or to return to our Father in Heaven. Several years ago I was disfellowshipped from the Church. I had lived a life of pride and sin and had suffered greatly because of my actions. My engagement to the woman I loved didn’t work out, my relationships with others were suffering, and I wasn’t happy.
Although I wished I had chosen to be humble long before then, I was compelled to be humble and to seek to do the will of the Lord. I started to read the scriptures more frequently, to pray more often, and to seek to serve others. I tried to repair the relationships I had neglected for so long, including my relationship with Heavenly Father. I truly desired a change of heart.
It was early morning as I drove to school one day, and the sun was not yet up. The eastern horizon glowed, and the western horizon was dark, with a full moon descending behind it. I had developed the habit of conversing with my Heavenly Father while driving. As I prayed during this car ride, my mind was enlightened, and a new hope was placed within my heart.
I realized that my life was glowing and getting increasingly brighter, just like the eastern horizon. The darkness was dissipating, and my sins, which were as great as that full moon, were descending. They were not yet gone, but I knew that they soon would be if I continued my sincere repentance. I had hope that someday my life would be as bright as noonday.
With time and as I prayed for love for my Heavenly Father and others, I became more humble. Increased humility led me to serve God and others more selflessly, and my hope for eternal life and a better future was renewed and replenished. As that hope grew, so did my faith that my Savior, Jesus Christ, is mighty to save and to cleanse me from all unrighteousness. I know the words of Mormon are true: “Ye shall have hope through the atonement of Christ and the power of his resurrection, to be raised unto life eternal” (Moroni 7:41).

Sometimes, you simply have to take a stand. “The greatest challenge for me was saying no, because all of my friends would go out Friday nights drinking, smoking, some doing drugs,” explains Maxine Ireland, 15. “They’d always ask me. They didn’t ever give up. At first I made excuses why I couldn’t go. But finally I explained what I believe and why I would never do those things. After that, they left me alone.”

Our testimonies are often strengthened by our experiences. A young girl named Jenny had an experience that helped her testimony to grow:
One day, many years ago, a country fair was held. Families from miles around visited the fair. The balloon ride was the fair’s biggest attraction. Jenny and her family were there. Jenny was very excited about riding in the balloon and was the first one to climb into the basket. Before the rest of her family could get into the basket, a gust of wind blew the anchor rope out of the attendant’s hands. Up, up, up went the balloon. The people, river, houses, trees, and animals seemed to grow smaller and smaller and smaller as Jenny watched from the basket.
Jenny was terribly frightened. How high would the balloon go? What was going to happen to her? All she wanted then was to be with her family on the ground again!
Then Jenny knew what she should do. She asked Heavenly Father to help her. After she prayed, she noticed a rope and felt impressed to pull it. As she did, some of the gas in the balloon was released, making the balloon descend just a little. Jenny pulled the rope again, and the balloon went down a little more. She pulled it again and again, each time letting a little more of the gas escape. She felt impressed to pull only a little bit at a time so that the balloon wouldn’t go down too fast. As she went lower and lower, she looked over the edge of the basket and saw the people, river, houses, trees, and animals appearing to grow larger and larger.
The balloon landed safely in a meadow not far from the fairgrounds. How happy everyone was to see Jenny! How happy she was to see them! As she hugged her mother, she learned that her parents, too, had prayed for her safety. They were all grateful to Heavenly Father, and Jenny gained a testimony of prayer because she knew that Heavenly Father had heard and answered their prayers.

We all make mistakes. Big ones, small ones. Sometimes mistakes can grab us tighter than superglue grabs the wrong place on a model plane, and then we’re stuck.
That’s what happened to me when I was ten.
It all started during a friend’s birthday party. It was evening, and we were in her family’s boat, which was parked in the driveway. We started telling scary stories—the kind that give you the shivers and make you wish that you were at home with your stuffed animals.
Many times my parents had told me not to do such things. They had taught me that Satan was real and powerful in ways that I could not understand. It was a lesson I was sorry to learn for myself. How I wished that I’d been obedient.
It was even fun at first as we laughed the chills away. But soon things changed. The stories got scarier, and a dark, cold feeling came over us and we stopped laughing. We started singing hymns and Primary songs, hoping that we would soon feel better. We even said a prayer.
Over the next couple of days, I couldn’t shake the bad feeling surrounding me. For the first time, I realized just how powerful Satan can be and the consequences that can come from disobedience. I wasn’t just spooked. I wasn’t just scared. I knew with a certainty that a darkness was following me, a darkness that chilled my heart and made my soul quake with fear.
What could I do?
On Wednesday, after school, I walked to the chapel for Primary, which was held during the week in those days. I hoped that I could talk to my Primary teacher and that she would be able to help me find an answer to my problem.
Once I got there, I sat on the curb by the door and waited. And waited. Sitting there with that big building behind me, the wide-open parking lot surrounding me, and the empty field across the street, I felt very alone. I was terrified. I kept sitting there, wondering where everyone was. Why hadn’t anyone come? I went to a different school than the other children in my ward, and I usually didn’t see them walking to Primary. But I knew that someone should have been there—one of the leaders, a teacher, someone starting to set up. But no one came.
I finally realized that I had forgotten that Primary had been canceled. No one was coming.
The awful, lonely feeling grew stronger. It made me feel like I was drowning. I closed my eyes and prayed again for help.
Shortly after I opened my eyes, I heard a car coming around from the other side of the building. I looked up to see a familiar face through the open car window.
President Harold B. Lee, a member of my ward and someone who had been friendly to me, smiled. “Is everything all right?” he asked.
I stood up from the curb and nodded.
“I was on my way home,” he said, “when I was impressed that I should come by the chapel and make sure that everything was all right.”
I looked into the prophet’s face, and suddenly a great warmth filled me from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head. The darkness was gone.
I can’t actually remember if I said anything to him. It isn’t important. What is important is that I knew that not only did Heavenly Father love me but that He had listened to and answered my prayer.
And what an answer! It isn’t often that the prophet and President of the Church is sent to answer a single child’s prayer, but I’m grateful that he was sent. And when I make mistakes, big or small, and I feel them squeezing in around me and I know once more how strong Satan’s power can be, I can hear the prophet’s gentle voice asking, “Is everything all right?” And I know once again that everything can be.

“What are you doing?” Nate asked his big sister, Jessica.
“Writing a thank-you to Grandma for my birthday present.”
“I want to write one too.”
“You don’t know how to write yet,” Jessica said. “Besides, you write thank-yous to someone who gives you a present, and it wasn’t your birthday.”
“Oh,” said Nate, rolling his tongue around in his cheek. Then he started to grin. “I know someone I can make a thank-you for. I’ll be right back.”
A minute later, Nate dumped crayons, markers, and a big sheet of plain white paper on the table.
“Now what are you doing?” Jessica sighed, moving over.
“Making a thank-you picture. I can’t write, but I can draw.”
“Who are you thanking?”
“It’s a surprise.” Nate picked up a yellow crayon, drew a round sun, and colored it in. Then he used markers to make a red house with two blue windows, and a door.
Jessica peered at it. “I know who that picture’s for. It’s for Dad.”
“No,” said Nate, smiling. He drew his black cat, Pepper, and the swing hanging from their big oak tree.
“I bet that picture’s for Mom,” Jessica said.
“Nope.” Nate picked up a blue crayon. He colored birds flying in the sky, and the pond next to their house.
“I’m done,” said Jessica, putting her note into an envelope. “Now I have to write Grandma’s address on it and send it.”
“I’m done, too,” said Nate, coloring a frog by the pond.
“I bet that picture’s for your kindergarten teacher,” Jessica said.
“No,” Nate said. “It’s for someone who gives me different things every day. It’s a thank-you picture for Heavenly Father.”
Jessica smiled. “You’re right, Nate. He does give us all kinds of presents.”
“Do you think He likes my thank-you picture?”
“Sure He does. Everyone likes it when you say thank you.”
Nate smiled. “Help me hang my picture up for Heavenly Father to see. Then I’ll help you mail yours.”

Riiiing!
Got to go! I have lots of homework. Thanks for dinner!
But we just barely sat down!
The next day …
I haven’t finished my math homework or my history paper.
I haven’t seen my family very much.
I’m really tired.
I haven’t read the scriptures or prayed in a while.
“We have to forego some good things in order to choose others that are better or best because they develop faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and strengthen our families.”
President Dallin H. Oaks, First Counselor in the First Presidency, Oct. 2007 general conference (Ensign or Liahona, Nov. 2007, 107).
I think I need to make some changes.
Hey! Are you coming to chess club today?
No, not today.
Good move!

At a Relief Society meeting, a group of women were discussing how to teach youth to make and keep covenants. One woman, who was struggling with a teenage daughter, listened as the women talked about faith, prayer, good example, and scriptures. Finally she blurted out, “I’ve tried all those things! And they’re not working!” Quietly she added, “Love is all that is working for us right now.” This good sister trusted that somehow her covenant to be charitable (even to her daughter) would make a difference. And it is.

I would now like to share with you a remarkable account shared by my friend, Lee, that touched my heart deeply and reminded me that the best work we can do on our own pales in comparison, even as a social worker, to what we can do when strengthened by the Lord.

My friend shared in his own words:
Lee’s Story
I was born into and raised in an unloving and abusive home. My earliest memories, at the age of two, are of terror. I lived in fear every day of my life, until I moved away at the age of 17.

When I was about 16, I fell into a dark hole. My life consisted of waking up, going to school, coming home from school and going to my room, eating dinner, returning to my room, and staring at the ceiling. At school, the only time people would talk to me was if they needed an answer to a math problem. I was in a tremendous amount of emotional pain and was convinced that I was ugly, lazy, stupid, and unlovable. Satan was working hard to “sift [me] as wheat.”[6]

Thankfully, I knew that even if nobody else loved me, Jesus did. I had felt His love and guiding hand even before I was six years old. I distinctly remember many times feeling his presence.

Going to church on Sundays was a haven for me. I could feel my Savior’s deep love for me. My family lived on a farm, so I couldn’t really visit neighbors, but wandering the fields, I could find a degree of peace, feel Christ’s love for me, and see the beauty of the earth.

One day, as 16-year-old me was in my room trying to find a way out of my situation—I cried out in my heart to Jesus, “Lord! I’m stuck and can’t get out!”

A day or two later, a boy a year older than me knocked on the door of our house. He met my parents there and said, “There is something wrong with Lee.” My parents’ response was, “We know, but we don’t know what to do.” I had grown up with this young man. I’d had sleepovers at his place, and he and his brother had been to sleepovers at mine. We had gone to Primary together and had served in Aaronic Priesthood quorums together.

He finished talking to my parents and came up to my room to talk to me. I didn’t believe he cared. I mean, who could? So, I ignored him. He would talk to me, and I didn’t look at him or respond. He said, “That’s OK. I can do the talking” and he talked to me for about an hour. At the end of that time, he said, “I have to go home and do my chores. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

The next day, he showed up again. I treated him the same way again. He came the third day in a row. Now I figured he did actually care so I started to talk with him. Jesus Christ sent him to rescue me. To help me. To show me that there were others who did care about me. He was the angel Christ sent.

I am so grateful to my Savior, Jesus Christ, for sending that young man. I am so grateful that someone only 17 years old would be listening to and acting on the words of the Spirit. The Lord and this young man got me out of the pit. It took many years, but, beginning with those visits, they rescued me from Satan and his chains of hell.

I now have had a great life. I have a wonderful wife of 40 years. I have 5 amazing children and 13 incredible grandchildren. The Lord has supported me and my family all these years, and I know that He will continue to do so throughout the years to come.

Jesus Christ lives! He rescued me! He wants to rescue you too. Please let Him. Cry out to him. Expect angels to come. They will come.

One of my missionary companions was an adult convert of the Church. She had joined the Church in her forties, and although she always had a testimony of Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon, she did not develop a habit of attending church. But over a ten year period she had faithful home and visiting teachers who came to visit. One day, while working in her garden, she found an old, weather-beaten paper in the weeds. She picked it up to see what it was and discovered a note from her visiting teachers from several months before. As she looked at the note, remembering that these faithful sisters had come to her home every month for three years, she said, "If they love me that much, I am going back to church." Come back she did. She went on a mission at age 68 where she blessed me as her companion, as well as all those that she taught. What brought about that change? Faithful visiting teachers, consistently giving service and visiting someone less active.

Dear brothers and sisters, I recently officiated in a temple sealing, following COVID-19 guidelines. With the bride and groom, both faithful returned missionaries, were their parents and all their siblings. This was not easy. The bride is the ninth of ten children. Her nine siblings sat in order, oldest to youngest, socially distanced of course.
The family had sought to be good neighbors wherever they lived. However, one community had been unwelcoming—because, the bride’s mother said, their family were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
The family did everything to make friends at school, contribute, and be accepted, but to no avail. The family prayed and prayed hearts would soften.
One night, the family felt their prayers were answered, though in a very unexpected way. Their house caught fire and burned to the ground. But something else happened. The fire softened their neighbors’ hearts.
Their neighbors and local school gathered clothes, shoes, and other necessities needed by the family, who had lost everything. Kindness opened understanding. It was not the way the family hoped or expected their prayers to be answered. However, they express gratitude for what they learned through hard experiences and unexpected answers to heartfelt prayers.

President Hinckley challenged the missions to double their baptisms. In 1999, we baptized 501 converts, which was almost double the number in 1998. In December we brought up the subject to our missionaries in our Christmas Mission Conference. The missionaries quoted 1 Nep3:7, "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 commanded them." We set a goal of one thousand baptisms in the year 2000. I turned in that goal to the Asia Area Presidency. I was told that I needed to be "realistic." So I told them that they could turn in 750 to Church Headquarters and we would still shoot for the thousand. From January 1 - December 31, everyone worked hard contacting, teaching, fellowshipping, resolving concerns, and baptizing converts. At 10:30pm on the 31st of December we got the final count from the office Elders: we had just witnessed a miracle. We had baptized a total of 1,024 converts in the year 2000. Everyone was crying, and as the Elders call each apartment, there were more tears shed. I called Elder Cook in Hong Kong and gave him the report. There was silence, then a tearful, "Congratulations. You are truly the flagship of Asia." I learned the power of vision, being strictly obedient, and setting high goals.

You can’t help but like Andrea* when you meet her. She’s warm and friendly and fun, and she knows how to make you feel good about yourself.

But she wasn’t always like that.

For a long time, she carried around a dark and tragic secret that she could confess to no one. She cried a lot. She was usually depressed. She withdrew from people—wasn’t close to anyone, and didn’t have the self-confidence to excel in school or anything else. Andrea had been sexually abused when she was younger.

“I thought I had committed a terrible sin,” she said. “I thought it was too gross to tell anyone. I felt disgusting and totally worthless, until a very understanding bishop explained to me that it wasn’t my fault, that the Lord still loved me, and that I could get help.”

The help Andrea got, which included professional and spiritual counseling, is enabling her to put those traumatic experiences in the past and become emotionally and spiritually healthy again.

Going through these stages has helped Andrea begin to lead a happier, more fulfilling life. Others like her who have experienced sexual abuse can also begin to recover. It is important for them to realize that they have a right not to be abused, and that they need to get help if it happens. They need to know that they are not at fault, that they are not impure, nor are they any less chaste. And most of all, they need to know that Heavenly Father still loves them, has great hope for them, and has provided ways for them to recover.

Mindy unfolded her collapsible cane, ready to go when her mother had the car warmed up.
“Come on, Mindy,” she heard her mother call. “Time to go.”
Mindy clutched a manila envelope under one arm and went down the steps of the porch. One, two, three, she counted silently, moving her cane down the steps as she went. Then she moved it back and forth on the sidewalk, exactly twenty-three steps to the car.
“Let me carry that, honey,” her mother suggested, taking the envelope from Mindy’s outstretched hand. Mindy folded up her cane and slid into the front seat.
She held her face out the window as the car moved off down the street. The air felt cool and brisk and made her hair dance. Mindy was so excited she could hardly stand it. Today she was going to enter her poem in the children’s poetry contest the school district was sponsoring. She had carefully written several poems on her braillewriter, then picked out the best one. Her mother had typed it up for her to give to the contest judges.
“This is very good,” her mother had said. “I hope the judges will think so too.”
Mindy was hopeful, but it was exciting just to have written a good poem. She leaned back, humming a little tune to herself. “Tell me what it’s like outside,” she asked her mother after a while. “I can hear some birds singing and the air feels cool. Is the sun out?”
“No,” said her mother. “It’s hiding behind a cloud. It may even rain today.”
Mindy hoped it would rain. She liked to feel the drops against her face or hear the rain beating on the roof. She liked the smell of damp earth and the booming thunderclaps.
“We’re almost there,” Mindy said. “I can hear the trains that run near the school and smell the flowers that grow by the fence.”
Mindy put her fingers on her watch that had no glass to cover the hands. “It’s four-fifteen,” she said. “We still have a few minutes.”
After the car had been parked at the school, Mindy opened the door and stepped out. Extending her cane, she asked, “Mother, may I have my poem now?”
“Just a moment,” her Mother replied, “until I explain where we’re going. Turn right, up one step, then about five steps to me,” directed her mother, who had become very good at judging distances for Mindy.
Mindy followed her mother’s directions, then reached for the envelope. Tucking it under her arm, she walked beside her mother, stepping up when the steps went up and down when they went down. Using her cane, she could go anywhere as long as she knew the right direction.
Someone was walking behind them. Judging by the click of high heels and the shuffle of another pair of shoes, Mindy was pretty sure it was a woman and a boy. Probably another contestant with his mother, she thought. The woman was murmuring, and Mindy could barely hear what she was saying.
“Look at that girl,” Mindy heard the woman say. “Poor little thing. How dreadful it must be to be blind. I hope the judges take that into consideration and give her a prize. She really deserves one.”
Mindy clutched her envelope tighter. She had worked hard on her poem, and she certainly didn’t want to win because she was sightless. Just before they entered the auditorium, she took her mother’s arm. “About how many steps to the judges’ table?” she asked.
Her mother looked in the door and replied, “About ten steps straight ahead.”
“Do I have to write anything?” Mindy whispered.
“No,” answered her mother. “It looks like the judges are doing all the writing. You just have to answer their questions.”
Mindy folded up her cane. “Hold this for me, please,” she said.
Mindy slowly walked the ten steps. When she felt the edge of the table she stopped, held out the manila envelope, and someone took it from her.
“Name?” a man’s voice asked.
Mindy instantly turned slightly to face him. “Mindy Martin,” she replied.
“Age?”
“Ten.”
“School?”
“Franklin,” responded Mindy, hoping that she was looking straight into the face of the man asking the questions.
“Thank you,” said the man.
Mindy turned around and walked the ten steps back to her mother. “How did I do?” she asked, squeezing her mother’s hand.
“Just fine,” whispered her mother. She helped Mindy to a chair next to the middle aisle.
Everyone listened while the judges read the children’s poetry aloud. Then they waited while the judges had a conference to decide who the winners were.
After conferring with each other, a man walked to a microphone at the front of the room. Everyone was quiet when he cleared his throat. “We have reached a decision,” he said. “The first-place winner is … Charles Monroe, for his poem ‘Sunflowers.’”
The audience clapped appreciatively, and Charles went up to the microphone to read his poem. Everyone listened carefully and nodded in agreement that his poem deserved a prize.
The man stepped forward again after Charles had finished.
“The second-place winner is … ,” he paused a moment. Mindy held her breath, and turned her face in the direction of the man’s voice. “Mindy Martin for her poem ‘Rain.’”
“Mother?” she questioned anxiously.
“Out to the aisle and then twenty steps straight ahead,” her mother whispered back. Mindy stood up, afraid she might trip or walk into someone’s chair, but somehow she made it up to the microphone.
“Mindy, would you please read your poem,” the man said and put a paper into her outstretched hand.
Mindy didn’t even pretend to look at the paper. She knew the poem by heart. She turned her happy face toward the audience, toward where she thought her mother was and began to recite her poem:
I love to hear the gentle rain
Dancing on my windowpane.
I know how fast the thirsty ground
Laps up the drops that sprinkle down.
And when the rain is pouring hard,
Making puddles in the yard,
I love to snuggle warm in bed
And hear the rain pound overhead.
The crowd applauded in approval. Mindy made her way back to her mother, who gave her a little hug. “I knew you could do it!” she said.
“And I won on my own,” said Mindy, “because my poem was good, not because I’m blind.”
Mindy’s mother gave her another hug. “You deserved to win, Mindy. Your poem was good. No one could argue with that.”
When the contest was over, Mindy put out her hand.
“I’ll take my cane now,” she said, smiling.

I have realized how much repentance affects everything. For example, for some months I was committing sins and not repenting of them, and I was finding it difficult to break this cycle. But after speaking with the bishop and other close friends, I was able to use the repentance process and feel so much closer to God and feel happier again. In praying hard and spending lots of time reading my scriptures, I realized that I had to change how I was living some parts of my life. I realize now how much I have grown because of this. Through this experience I was able to get much closer to my mum and dad especially.
Although I still have temptations and still commit sins, I am able to use the Savior’s Atonement to repent and review how I have done every day and try to always want to improve. I will be forever grateful for the Atonement in my life.
Billy P., age 17, Ipswich, England

I will never forget walking the grounds at Winter Quarters, Nebraska, USA, where pioneers had lived years before. The ground felt sacred, almost as if I were visiting an outdoor temple.
My eyes filled with tears, blurring my vision. I saw a statue but could not make out the figures. When I wiped away my tears, I saw a man and a woman whose faces were full of grief. As I looked closer, I saw the figure of an infant lying in a grave at their feet.
This sight filled me with so many emotions: sadness, anger, gratitude, and joy. I wanted to take away the pain those Saints felt, but I was grateful at the same time for what they had sacrificed for the gospel.
My experience at Winter Quarters helped me realize that Heavenly Father gives the gospel to His children and allows them the agency to do with it as they will. The parents of that baby could have chosen to take an easier course. Following the prophet and living the gospel required these pioneers to press forward even when it meant burying their child. But they chose to take the gospel into their lives and accepted their challenges. I learned that the Saints’ dedication to the gospel and their determination to press forward were driven by faith and hope—hope for a bright future and faith that the Lord knew them and could ease their pain.

Brother Raja Doraiswamy called Brother Sunil and asked if he could join him in ministering to Brother Paul Mahendran and Lawrence. Brother Sunil was tired but enthusiastically said he would be delighted to join. Paul was not available, so they decided to go to Brother Lawrence’s house.
Brother Lawrence had not been attending church for quite some time. Efforts were made to encourage him to come back, but Brother Lawrence needed more time. Brother Raja and Sunil met him and his wife. They invited them again to church. Brother Raja said, “If you can find the richness of the gospel elsewhere, you can go, but if you know the Church has all that you need for your salvation and happiness, then please come back.” His wife admitted that no other church gives peace than The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
As part of their ministering efforts, Brother Raja and Brother Sunil were inspired to share a part of the general conference talk given by Elder Uchtdorf titled “Believe, Love, Do,” discussing with this family about imperfect people, but they are welcoming, loving, kind, and sincere people as they strive to build and help one another to improve and draw closer to the Lord, our Savior, even Jesus Christ.
The invitation was given and testimonies borne. Questions like, “Why you did not come?” “Are you reading your scriptures?” “Are you praying?” etc. were not asked, but inspired testimonies were borne. An invitation was given for them to come back to church.
There were moments of anxiousness when Sunday came. Brother Raja looked around to see if Lawrence and his family were present. To his utter astonishment, he saw Brother Lawrence and his wife at church! His heart was lifted up in gratitude for being an instrument in God’s hands to help his brother come back. He remembered the verse “when thou are converted, strengthen thy brethren” (Luke 22:32). He just followed what Jesus wanted him to do. Likewise, Brother Sunil also was anxious to see if they had come. After seeing them he said, “Indeed I was very happy to see Brother and Sister Lawrence at church, and I feel confident that they will stay strong and active, showing examples to others around them.”
Both these brethren have not stopped dreaming. Their next ministering efforts is focused to bring back their sons and his sister’s family. Brother Raja always in his teachings and talks has emphasized M, meaning, “Ministering to members will bring miracles.” This testimony has come true and Brother Raja believes and is confident that if members do ministering diligently, then miracles will follow.
Brother Raja Doraiswamy and Sunil are from the Lingarajpuram Ward, Bengaluru Stake.

I remember a time when my oldest daughter was just six or seven years old. I was struggling with saying my personal prayers on a consistent basis. I remember walking into her bedroom one night to listen to her say her prayers. Her room felt so peaceful, innocent, and pure that I felt like praying. I explained as best I could that I’d like to get into the habit of saying my prayers and asked if I could pray at her bedside. She looked a little puzzled but agreed. On the second or third night, as I began my silent prayer, I felt her little hand on my head. She then turned on her side and with both hands began running her fingers through my hair. I felt touched by an angel. I must admit, it felt so good that my prayers became longer.

To this day, whenever there is a family gathering, I will eventually work my way over to the couch or chair where she is located, sit on the floor, and wait for her to run her fingers through my hair.

Ray Hedgecock, 15, walked out of a stereo shop to get on his bike and head for home, then decided to go back in and look at some tapes. Moments later the lights went out, the ground began to rumble and shake, glass shattered out of windows, and stereos bounced off of shelves. The beam Ray was standing under protected him from falling light fixtures. Thirty-two seconds later, his bicycle was buried under a pile of bricks, the building across the street was ablaze with fire, and most of the buildings within four blocks were reduced to rubble. “All you could hear was the ground rumbling, it was so loud. There was so much dust you couldn’t even see across the street,” Ray recalled.