Gospel Story Finder

Coming unto Christ, for me, is part of bringing others unto Christ also. There is a teenager in my ward who does not believe in Christ or this gospel. One Sunday afternoon I had the opportunity to walk to the temple with him and bear him my testimony. When he asked me questions, I was never without an answer, because the Spirit was there helping and guiding me the whole way. When I got home, the Spirit I felt was so strong that I knew, through my actions and this experience, I had come closer unto Christ and had hopefully brought my friend closer also.

But in addition to the blessings, life for the Pitakpongs has had its traumas, too. Some seven years ago, President Pitakpong was out of town on business when an intruder in his home struck Sister Pitakpong with a wrench and stole a gold necklace she was wearing. “My son, Wuthikrai, went to his mother’s aid, and he, too, was hit, as was my wife’s mother. The man ran away as my daughter screamed for help.
“My wife had to be hospitalized, and she still suffers from severe headaches that make it difficult for her to concentrate.”
But the family finds comfort in living the gospel of Jesus Christ. “Being sealed together in the temple brought a special spirit into our family,” says President Pitakpong. “It strengthened our individual testimonies. Now, not only does our sixteen-year-old son want to go on a mission, but his two younger sisters want to go, too.”

I think of another. I knew him well. He joined the Church when long ago I was a missionary in the British Isles. He had a smoking habit. He prayed for strength in that springtime of his Church membership and the Lord answered his prayer and gave him power to overcome his habit. He looked to God and lived with a joy he never had previously known. But something happened. Family and social pressures were brought against him. He lowered his vision and gave way to his appetite. The smell of burning tobacco seduced him. I saw him some years later. We talked together of the old and better days he had known. And he, like Peter, wept bitterly. He blamed this and he blamed that, and, as he did so, I was inclined to repeat the words of Cassius—
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
(Julius Caesar, act 1, sc. 2, lines 140–41.)

As the weeks passed, I marveled that most often peace and joy, not grief, dominated my heart. I contemplated why. One day, I decided to research the words of our prophets and apostles that relate to grief and gratitude. They confirmed what I had already concluded: that I had been strengthened by the comforting power of Jesus Christ and His Atonement, along with my gratitude.
The title of a 2005 Ensign article by President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018) struck me deeply. It was called “The Profound Power of Gratitude.” In that article, President Monson said:
“God in His infinite mercy has not left grieving loved ones to wonder. He has provided truth. He will inspire an upward reach, and His outstretched arms will embrace you. Jesus promises to one and all who grieve, ‘I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you’ [John 14:18].”2
I realized I had been experiencing God’s comfort and embrace. They were profound and powerful! They enabled me to look at John’s picture each morning and smile as I said, “Thank you!” to him and to God!
Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has perfectly described what I experienced: “When we are grateful to God in our circumstances, we can experience gentle peace in the midst of tribulation. In grief, we can still lift up our hearts in praise. In pain, we can glory in Christ’s Atonement. In the cold of bitter sorrow, we can experience the closeness and warmth of heaven’s embrace.”3
These blessings were what I had felt within minutes of John’s death and in the days since! I am grateful for the peace in my heart and how I continually feel God’s embrace. I never want to lose those feelings! And so, I continue to express gratitude daily for my sacred experiences, for gospel knowledge that brings me closer to Jesus Christ, for the strengthening comfort made possible by Him and His Atonement, and for an eternal perspective and the hope of spending eternity with my Johnny.

Several LDS groups invited my minister friend to speak on the topic of “loving our neighbor despite religious differences,” and she experienced a great deal of acceptance from those who attended. In turn, she invited several Latter-day Saints, including me, to speak to different congregations on the same topic. After the services, I found myself surrounded by congregants wanting to talk to me, hug me, and even shed tears of mutual love and understanding. In experiences like these, I have found Elder Holland’s conclusion to be true: “When we look beyond people’s color, ethnic group, social circle, church, synagogue, mosque, creed, and statement of belief, and when we try our best to see them for who and what they are—children of the same God—something good and worthwhile happens within us, and we are thereby drawn into a closer union with that God who is the Father of us all.”14

When I was a young man about the age of some of you deacons here, my dad was bishop of the ward in our little farming town of Banida in southeastern Idaho. I remember the first time he brought me with him to Salt Lake City to attend a general priesthood meeting. In those years, Dad always seemed to me to be really old. As I recognize now, he must have been around thirty-eight years of age. I was happy to be with him.

I remember we sat in the balcony there on the north side. Before the meeting started, Dad pointed out which one of the Brethren on the stand was President Heber J. Grant and which were his Counselors. I saw the Twelve Apostles and the other Brethren. And that night, a warm feeling of love and respect for the leaders of the Church came over me and has continued to grow to this day.

That night, I decided I wanted to do everything I could to support my dad as bishop. I didn’t want to do anything that would embarrass or disappoint him. To this day, I am grateful for those feelings that came to me that night.

Shortly after the NCAA finals, Britton announced his decision to serve a mission. The decision came at no small sacrifice. Many people, including Utah head coach Rick Majerus, say Britton has tremendous NBA potential, but leaving the game for two years may jeopardize his pro chances. “Coach was saying everything he could to get me to stay,” recalls Britton. “I’ve been told that if I stay for all four years in a row, I’d definitely go pro.”

For the first time in his life, Britton began to question whether he should go on a mission. Majerus told the press that if Britton were to go after being benched all year, “his pro chances are null and void and his chance for a college career is really in peril. He can’t sit three years.”

In the end, Britton’s coach supported his decision. “It is with regret and sadness from a basketball standpoint that Britton departs, but I am pleased because he seems to be so at peace and happy about the decision,” said Majerus. “I’m proud to be a coach of so many young men who felt so good about a religious experience that they would want to sacrifice their basketball.”

One of my favorite comic strips involved Lucy. As I remember it, Charlie Brown’s baseball team was in an important game—Lucy was playing right field, and a high fly ball was hit to her. The bases were loaded, and it was the last of the ninth inning. If Lucy caught the ball, her team would win. If Lucy dropped the ball, the other team would win.
As could happen only in a comic strip, the entire team surrounded Lucy as the ball came down. Lucy was thinking, “If I catch the ball, I will be the hero; if I don’t, I will be the goat.”
The ball came down, and as her teammates eagerly looked on, Lucy dropped the ball. Charlie Brown threw his glove to the ground in disgust. Lucy then looked at her teammates, put her hands on her hips, and said, “How do you expect me to catch the ball when I am worried about our country’s foreign policy?”
This was one of many fly balls Lucy dropped through the years, and she had a new excuse each time.2 While always humorous, Lucy’s excuses were rationalizations; they were untrue reasons for her failure to catch the ball.

José Humberto González Garza, 69, a member of the Campestre Ward, serves as patriarch in the Monterrey México Roma Stake and has seen patriarchal blessings change lives. He remembers an older woman who was promised she would be able to serve in the temple. She thought it could not happen because of her age and the distance to a temple. But a temple was later built nearby, and she found joy in serving.

“I feel so satisfied doing my duty,” Brother González says. Because he is partially blind, he uses a cane to help him get around. He also uses a hearing aid. And at times he feels he can’t do as much as he used to. But, he says, “when my children ask me, ‘Are you giving blessings, Dad?’ I tell them, ‘No, I’m receiving blessings.’”

When I was in first grade, nobody was playing with Jack,* so I decided to play with him. The first time we played together, we played firemen, because that’s what he wants to be when he grows up. I want to be an inventor—Jack’s going to help me, of course. The next time we played together, Jack brought his football to school and we played with it at recess. Ever since then, we’ve played together at recess and after school. We are still good friends, even though other kids don’t play with him. They laugh at him when he talks, and some don’t want to sit by him at lunch. But Jack is a good friend and a very smart boy. I’m glad I can be his friend.

As a result of Dad’s study, three different groups of scientists have visited us to study dust devils, hoping to learn more about tornadoes. One of the groups was trying to find special sounds coming from them that could be used to develop a warning system for tornadoes. The other two groups had a laser beam that could be pointed at a dust devil. The part of the beam that was reflected off the dust devil back to their equipment told them how fast the winds in the dust devil were moving.
One time I was just about to put my finger in the place where the invisible laser beam came out, and one of the scientists shouted and told me that it could burn right through my hand. To prove it, he came over and put a tablet of paper where I was going to put my finger; and all of a sudden there was a brown and smoky hole right through the tablet!

The story is told of a group of men who were talking about people who had influenced their lives and for whom they were grateful. One man thought of a high school teacher who had introduced him to Tennyson. He decided to write and thank her. In time, written in a feeble scrawl, came the teacher’s reply:
“My Dear Willie:
“I can’t tell you how much your note meant to me. I am in my 80s, living alone in a small room, cooking my own meals, lonely and like the last leaf lingering behind. You will be interested to know that I taught school for 50 years, and yours is the first note of appreciation I have ever received. It came on a blue, cold morning, and it cheered me as nothing has for years.”

Some years ago I was traveling in the Rosario Argentina Mission up in the northern part of Argentina. As we were traveling along the road, we passed a large herd of cattle being moved. The herd was moving peaceably and without difficulty. The herd was quiet. There were no dogs. Out in front leading the herd were three gauchos on horseback, each about fifteen or twenty yards apart. These three horsemen were slumped forward in their saddles, completely relaxed, confident that the herd would follow them. At the rear of the herd was a single rider bringing up the rear. He, too, was slumped forward in his saddle as if he were sleeping. The whole herd moved peacefully, quietly, and was subdued. From that experience it seemed obvious to me that leadership is about three-fourths show-the-way and about one-fourth follow-up.

It’s like visiting Buck Roger’s control room. There are knobs and dials everywhere. On one wall hang maps of the earth, zoned into sections labeled with letters and numbers. On another wall, cards emblazoned with cryptic codes record locations where transmissions have been acknowledged—Holland, Italy, Antarctica, Gambia, the Indian Ocean.
At the control panel, the 18-year-old engineer twists the dial governing the tower’s signals. He has heard a CQ, a general request for anyone listening to respond. Aiming his beam in the proper direction, he taps out Morse code on an electronic keyer, and the dots and dashes identifying him as K3TA flash around the world.
K3TA is not a refugee who used to wander the galaxies with Artoo Detoo and See Threepio. And the scene described above isn’t a passage from an old science fiction novel. What is going on is an everyday occurrence in the life of Michael St. Clair, a priest in the Potomac Ward, Washington D.C. Stake, who is a ham radio operator. K3TA is a code that identifies the station he operates.
The station is located not on some exotic starship but in his bedroom. And the 100-foot tower is in the backyard. But from that bedroom transmitting and receiving station, Mike has spoken with people from more than 200 countries.
“I’ve talked to just about every country a person would normally think of,” Mike says, “except China. They haven’t allowed amateur radio there for a long time. But I read in a radio magazine that they might start it up again.”
If they do, Mike may be able to check off another name on his list of places he has talked to. The American Radio Relay League (ARRL), the organization of ham radio operators in the United States, publishes a list of 330 contactable “countries,” and Mike hopes to some day reach all of them. The list includes a lot of locations not normally classified as nations. “For example, Hawaii counts as a separate country as far as radio is concerned,” Mike explains. The list also includes remote locations which are either unexplored or undeveloped. “To make contact with a place like that, you usually have to wait for an expedition from outside to travel through.”
Just the same, Mike’s activity has brought him recognition for having confirmed contact with so many people in so many places. He has earned the league’s WAS (“Worked All States”) award and has qualified for the DXCC (“Distance Century Club”) award. WAS is a recognition given to amateur operators who have talked to someone in each of the states in the U.S. DXCC is awarded to those who have confirmed contact with operators in at least 100 foreign countries.
To receive the DXCC, Mike has to receive a card from each of the places contacted, then make application to the league. “The cards take a long time to come in, because they go through a central bureau. Sometimes they don’t arrive until a year after you talk to someone.” So, although Mike has talked to people all over the globe, he’s still waiting for two more cards before he can technically earn the DXCC. It’s just a matter of time before the cards finally arrive.
Like enthusiasts of any sport or hobby, amateur radio operators love to have contests to sharpen their skills. And Mike has done well in contests, too. The contests involve contacting as many stations as possible during a certain amount of time. “During the longer contests, I might contact as many as 5,000 operators,” Mike says. “The real reason for contests is to improve your skill as an operator, and it does take a lot of skill.” Contests range from 4 hours on one day to 96 hours spread over two weekends, though most contests are for either 48 straight hours or for 36 hours during a 48-hour period. “It gets tiring, but I keep going. That’s part of the excitement.”
There are domestic contests (within the U.S.) and international contests. “I’ve never won a world contest before,” Mike says, “but I’ve placed in the top 50.” Mike has made special arrangements not to compete on Sundays and is also lobbying to have Sunday contests eliminated. “I think it is good for my radio friends who are not members of the Church to know that I consider my standards more important than winning a worldwide contest,” Mike says.
Mike’s interest in amateur radio (the term ham is a nickname for the same thing) began while he was young. “We set up an electric train in the basement when I was about five, and I started figuring out how it ran. I’ve been working with wires ever since.”
His uncle is a ham in Columbia, South Carolina, and he has given Mike a lot of support. They talk to each other once a week. Another uncle in Ephraim, Utah, is also on the air and contacts Michael from time to time.
“Lots of operators are willing to help, to give advice,” Mike says. “And there are classes and books available. Just meeting a lot of friends builds your technical background, if you go to club meetings. I’ve learned a lot from talking to people on the air, too.
“My uncle gave me a home-built transmitter, which I used along with a receiver I built from a kit. You can get a novice (beginner’s) license from the Federal Communications Commission (FCC), and with less than $100 worth of equipment, be operating a Morse code station.”
Mike got his novice license in August 1975, received his general license eight months later, his advanced license “a couple of months after that,” and now holds the highest license, the extra class license. There is one other license, the technician license, but it is used mostly for business communication, and higher licenses have the same privileges, so Mike bypassed it.
A novice licensee is allowed to broadcast only in Morse code. If he attains a higher license, however, he is allowed to broadcast his voice. “I started out memorizing Morse code,” Mike says. “Then I had a record with a very slow code speed, and I practiced off the air. Once I got on the air, I didn’t have any interest in receiving from a record. The main thing that pushed me to learn code was foreign stations sending it faster than I could receive, so I kept on pushing.”
There is usually not a language barrier, since most operators speak English, Mike explains. “But it’s nice to know a few basic words from their language, too. I’ve learned a lot about other countries, and I’ve had a chance to practice my Spanish.”
Mike has learned a lot about many things because of his involvement with amateur radio. He learned about family love as his parents, brothers, and sister helped with construction of the tower: “It’s a sacrifice for my parents to let me have it, and we’ll probably take it down while I’m on my mission. But everybody sure pitched in to help me build it.”
Mike paid for the tower himself, mostly from money he earned on his paper route. That taught him how to budget and how to work for what he wants. He also had to obtain building permits and file applications with the county in order to have permission to erect the tower. “I had to decide where the guy lines should go, how big of a tower to put up, draw the designs, and make the calculations all on my own. Now I know how the permit system works in case I ever want to build a home or remodel.”
At least with the tower in the backyard, it’s easy to tell friends how to find the house.
Mike’s experience in electronics paid off when he obtained a job as an engineer at a local FM radio station. It has also allowed him to help at Church dances because he can record high-fidelity dance music. He is wiring speakers to the cry room and the nursery at his meeting house as a service project.
But his greatest joy in working with radio has been the opportunity it has provided for him to help people contact each other. “I have handled relaying messages back into the U.S. for a lot of people. Washington, D.C., is a popular area for ham radio messages because a lot of people from the State Department and other government bureaus overseas want to keep in touch with their families. They may be in Africa or they may be scientists in Antarctica, like the one who told me it was -90° F. the day he called. I have a friend whose family is living in South America, and he comes over every Wednesday night and we use the radio to talk to them.”
Though he has never been involved in sending emergency messages with the radio, Mike is also aware that often ham stations are used when other forms of communication are blocked. “I will be glad to help if I ever can,” he says.
His radio has also provided an opportunity to talk to people about the Church. “I lead into it some way, and they’re usually pretty curious,” Mike says. “I had a conversation with a strong Catholic from California once, and it was over the air so anybody could listen in. When I contact anyone from Utah, I always ask them if they’re members of the Church. I belong to a local radio club, and I’ve made a lot of friends there, too. One of them seems very interested in the Church, and I think he might make it all the way to becoming a member.”
In addition to his love for radio, Mike is involved with photography, swimming, working with the full-time missionaries, home teaching with his father, kicking the soccer ball around with his brothers, helping his brother Greg with his aquarium, and fulfilling his quorum responsibilities as second assistant to the president.
He plans to attend BYU starting this fall and study electrical engineering and math. He hopes that some of his brothers (Jeff, 12; Kent, 9; Greg, 16; and newborn Scott, 3 months) or his sister (Mary, 4) will also get interested in ham radio so that he can share his experience with them (although they do all talk with their uncles on the air already). “I hope to keep in touch with the family via amateur radio while I’m away at BYU,” he says.
Mike’s greatest goal right now, however, is to go on a mission. It doesn’t matter exactly where he gets sent, he says. Chances are he’s already spoken to somebody who lives there.

When I was 15 years old, I gained a strong testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ and was so happy to join the Church. At the time, I was working to help support my family. Not long after I was baptized, however, I lost my job.
I needed to find a new job soon because my family depended on me, but every job I applied for required that I work on Sundays. I turned down many job offers because I knew that I needed to be at church on Sundays (see D&C 59:9–10).
After two months of searching, I still hadn’t found a job. My mom was not a member of the Church, and although she believed in God, she was very angry that I was passing up so many jobs.
One night she looked at me with tears in her eyes and asked, “Why is God letting this happen to us when you are so faithful in doing what is right?”
I replied, “Mom, I don’t know why this is happening to us, but I do know that I am doing the right thing, and I know that God will bless us for it.”
The next morning someone offered me a considerable amount of money to spend two days moving some heavy cargo from one house to another. The work was strenuous, but when I received the money, I went straight home and offered a prayer of gratitude. I soon found a good job that allowed me to take Sundays off, and I haven’t been unemployed since.
I am glad that I chose to keep the Sabbath day holy. There are many challenges in life, but I know that if we strive to be strong despite those challenges, the Lord will bless us.

During an interview while I served in an elders quorum presidency, I asked a fellow quorum member if he had ever felt and acted on a spiritual prompting. He thought for a moment and shared an experience.
One afternoon he was washing dishes when he received a strong impression to go knock on a neighbor’s door. He did not understand why, but the prompting was powerful and urgent. He stopped what he was doing and left right away.
He arrived at his neighbor’s door, not knowing what to do or say, and knocked. No one answered. He knocked again. There was still no answer. Concluding that no one was home, he turned to leave but then felt another prompting.
He walked back to the door and simply said, “Sister, I love you.” Then he departed.
He thought this experience was unusual, and he felt a little embarrassed by it. I told him that the Lord does not always tell us the reasons for promptings, but we should never feel embarrassed for acting on them. This brother moved away shortly after our interview.

The significance of this truth was brought to the heart of a certain man when his friend approached him with a plan to obtain the riches of this life. He wrote:
“Dear friend,
“During one of our conversations you said something which has been on my mind ever since. In fact, you might say that it has really ‘troubled’ me and has caused me to do some real ‘soul’ searching. In explaining why you felt compelled to make the sales plan known to me, you said, ‘I would feel real bad a few years from now if I knew about this, got rich from it, and did not tell my friends about it.’
“You will never know how that statement has troubled me because I have made no attempt to share something more precious than money with you. I am speaking of the true gospel of Jesus Christ.
“Now hold on a minute. I know what is going through your mind. ‘This kook has lost his cool and gone off the deep end.’ T’ain’t so. I believe we spent enough time together in the past couple of years for you to know that I haven’t turned into a freak or something. But I am sure you have noticed a change. I no longer do many of the earthly things you probably remember of me. I have a great love for my family and mankind in general. I am truly sorry for many things in my past and will do my best to never do them again. But this isn’t the most important thing.
“The most important thing in all this world is that I know that I existed in the preexistence as a spirit child of my Heavenly Father; that I am here in mortality as part of his great plan for me in order that I may prove my worthiness to him by constantly making the proper choices between good and evil; and that if I prove myself worthy I will return to his presence.
“I further know that there is a prophet, Harold B. Lee, here upon the earth today who communicates regularly with the true and living Jesus Christ, the son of God. Through this prophet I can learn everything necessary to help me live my life and guide my family in the proper manner to return to his presence.
“Oh, there is so much more that I could tell you, but suffice it to say that there is absolutely no unanswered question in my mind concerning my reason for being here at this time, nor what reward I will earn if I obey the teachings of my Father in heaven.
“Of course, I have learned all of these things through study and prayer and the teachings of the Mormon Church (The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints). It is this that I have never shared with you that has troubled my conscience so.
“Now I am going to do something about it. At the same time this letter is mailed, I am sending your name to the Church representatives in your area and asking them to contact you. They will undoubtedly send a couple of young men (or lady) missionaries to see you. These will be people who are dedicating a couple of years of their lives at their or their family’s expense to tell people like yourselves of this gospel. They have about six one-hour lessons they will want to teach you. I beg of you to listen to their message. I testify to you that it is true.”

When I went to Russia as a volunteer English teacher, I knew very little Russian. But as I lived among the Russian people, I began to have the desire to serve them and share the gospel with them. So I started working harder to learn the language.
I started by reading a children’s version of the Book of Mormon in Russian. Armed with a Russian/English dictionary, I struggled through a chapter a day, looking up nearly every word. Then I taught myself to pray in Russian, feeling foolish as the foreign words stumbled off my tongue. Finally, I started learning to bear my testimony. To practice, I would write it in Russian in my journal. It didn’t take long for me to decide that it was hard to learn Russian.
Nearly three months into my stay in Ufa, Russia, another English teacher and I planned a trip to a faraway city called Saratov. We were met at the train station by a wonderful Latter-day Saint family who opened their hearts and their home to us. Our time there was soon over, and we were once again on the train, ready for the 20-hour train ride back to Ufa.
We shared our small compartment with two businessmen who made us a little nervous. They were extremely polite though, so we soon felt safe. When we had left Saratov, the family we had stayed with had explained the importance of being an example: “Don’t forget that everyone is watching you. Everyone.” They gave us a few missionary pamphlets and challenged us to give them away before we got home.
Dubiously, I eyed the two men across from us. I sighed and decided they probably wouldn’t be interested.
But when I got out my scriptures to read, the men were curious and started asking questions. We gave them the pamphlets, which they read.
Later on the trip I started writing in my journal. The men asked why I wasn’t writing in Russian, so I showed them that I often did. The pages I happened to show them contained my testimony. They asked to read it, and I willingly obliged. They also eagerly started reading the Russian copy of the Book of Mormon I gave to them. As they asked questions, I felt as if the room would burst from the Spirit that filled it. One of the men asked if I could feel in my heart “the fire” that was in his and asked if I knew what it was. In my broken Russian I explained it was the Holy Ghost.
I had him read 3 Nephi 11. As we read of the Savior’s ministry among the people on the American continent, tears came to his eyes. He stopped reading and quietly asked, “Does Jesus Christ love me like He loved those people?”
With tears in my eyes I answered, “Yes, He knows you, and He loves you. That is why He wants you to know the truth about His gospel.” He looked at me for another moment and then dropped his eyes to read further. When we arrived in Ufa, we gave him the missionaries’ phone number.
It took a special 20-hour train ride to teach me that I don’t need to be on a full-time mission to serve the Lord and share the gospel. I don’t know if the little seeds that were planted that night have grown. But I do know that miracles occurred. I was converted, even if those men were not.

I was living away from home for the first time when my parents separated. It was only my first month of college, and as my family life shifted, I struggled to understand the meaning of the word home. When my parents divorced and my family moved out of the home I had lived in for the last 18 years, I was especially confused. I knew I wasn’t homeless, but I certainly felt that way.
I have often heard the Church described as a “refuge from the storm” (D&C 115:6). Institute became that refuge for me as I battled this new storm in my life. I enrolled in institute, and while I don’t recall the exact words spoken in the lessons, I will never forget the feelings of peace and comfort that came to me as I listened. I began to discover the love my Heavenly Father has for me, and I became much more closely acquainted with the best counselor I have ever found: Jesus Christ.
I have to pay for my college education, yet I learn the most valuable lessons from institute classes, which are available to me for free. I see now that the definition of home isn’t necessarily the house in which you grow up but a place where life’s lessons are taught and love abounds. Because of what I learned and the Spirit I felt, institute has become a new home for me. It is wonderful having a place where I feel loved and welcome.

Our son, Spencer, has tried to learn to fast since his baptism nearly two years ago. We have not made him feel he must fast at this young age. He may not fast as long as we do on some Sundays. In fast and testimony meeting some time ago, he whispered to me, “I think I’ll go up and bear my testimony.” I smiled and nodded my approval. His sincere testimony touched me. He was feeling something. So did I.