Gospel Story Finder

My companion and I later learned that Brother and Sister Diaz were both working for minimum wage at a local textile mill and sending half of their earnings to Guayaquil to help support their families. When we suggested that we eat less often at their house so we wouldn’t be a financial burden on them, Niza exclaimed, “Oh, no, Elder Norman!” She explained that since they got baptized and started paying tithing, somehow their freezer seemed to stay full of chicken and fish, even though she frequently fed the missionaries.

In Doctrine and Covenants 123:12 we learn, “There are many yet on the earth … who are only kept from the truth because they know not where to find it.” Through Hugo and Niza’s missionary efforts as members and later as stake missionaries, many came to know the truth of the gospel.
When we, like Hugo and Niza, seek diligently for the truth and then eagerly share the good news of the gospel of Jesus Christ, we will see a multitude of blessings in our lives and in the many lives we touch.

A few weeks ago our youngest son and his wife and family stopped to see us. The first one out of the car was our two-year-old grandson. He came running to me with his arms outstretched, shouting, “Gwampa! Gwampa! Gwampa!”
He hugged my legs, and I looked down at that smiling face and those big, innocent eyes and thought, “What kind of a world awaits him?”
For a moment I had that feeling of anxiety, that fear of the future that so many parents express to us. Everywhere we go fathers and mothers worry about the future of their children in this very troubled world.
But then a feeling of assurance came over me. My fear of the future faded.
That guiding, comforting Spirit, with which we in the Church are so familiar, brought to my remembrance what I already knew. The fear of the future was gone. That bright-eyed, little two-year-old can have a good life—a very good life—and so can his children and his grandchildren, even though they will live in a world where there is much of wickedness.
They will see many events transpire in the course of their lifetime. Some of these shall tax their courage and extend their faith. But if they seek prayerfully for help and guidance, they shall be given power over adverse things. Such trials shall not be permitted to stand in the way of their progress but instead shall act as stepping-stones to greater knowledge.

President J. Reuben Clark, Jr., was a man of like integrity. As a young man he presided for a short time over the Southern Branch of the State Normal College in Cedar City, Utah. He developed a great interest in that institution.
“Two years later … his help was solicited to give encouragement to members of the legislature to provide the funds which had been requested by the institution.”
Responding by letter he “explained in utter frankness and candor that he could not support the … request” for $100,000.
“‘… Frankly and freely,’ he said, ‘I believe you are asking too much. …
“‘… I have thought the matter over very carefully, and have not been able to see my way clear to honestly recommend to your representatives the appropriation … you ask. …
“‘If you would say that you will drop the $100,000 and work for the $54,000 you may count on my active cooperation to the very limit of my poor ability; but if you still reach after the larger amount, you will at once see it will be better if I keep quiet; and I promise you that I shall do that.’
“The frankness in this letter was to become a distinguishing characteristic of [President] Clark’s correspondence and dealings with men throughout his long career. Although his recommendations many times did not contain what others had hoped to receive, nonetheless his candor and complete honesty contributed greatly to men’s confidence in him for they knew they could depend upon him to say what he really thought.” (David H. Yarn, Jr., Young Reuben, Brigham Young University Press, Provo, Utah, pp. 113–14.)

I was born in India and have 19 siblings, and I love them all like crazy! In Savior of the World, I had lots of fun wearing unique and interesting clothes along with the pounds of stage makeup. I played a resurrected being in the Resurrection scene, which was special for me since I lost two little brothers and thought about how great it will be when we get to see them again when they are resurrected. Being in Savior of the World broadened my understanding of the Savior, His life and what He did for us.
Olivia W., 17, Missouri, USA

Like many of you, I have shared the gospel with some who are soon baptized or activated, and others—such as my nonmember friend Tim and his less-active wife, Charlene—take much more time.
For over 25 years I engaged Tim in gospel conversations and took Tim and Charlene to temple open houses. Others joined the rescue; however, Tim declined each invitation made to meet with the missionaries.
One weekend I was assigned to preside at a stake conference. I had asked the stake president to fast and pray about whom we should visit. I was shocked when he handed me the name of my friend Tim. When Tim’s bishop, the stake president, and I knocked on the door, Tim opened it, looked at me, looked at the bishop, and then said, “Bishop, I thought you told me you were going to bring somebody special!”
Then Tim laughed and said, “Come on in, Merv.” A miracle occurred that day. Tim has now been baptized, and he and Charlene have been sealed in the temple. We must never give up.

When heavy rains in southern Germany caused flooding so severe that many homes were underwater up to their rooftops, the Latter-day Saint youth in the area knew exactly what to do: they rolled up their sleeves and got to work. There certainly was plenty of work to go around.
Some youth helped directly with the aftermath of the flood. They swept away mud and helped clean out homes and gardens. Others worked to sort and distribute toys that had been donated for children affected by the flood.
The youth worked side-by-side with members of other faiths throughout the cleanup. “I felt the Spirit’s presence as we were serving,” says Nathaniel S., a young man who participated. “I know the reason the Spirit was there was because we were all unified as children of God helping each other.”

Brothers Terii and Emile Mau enjoy the simple life of fishermen on the tropical island of Moorea, 12 miles from Tahiti. On Sundays they attend the Haumi Branch of the Church, and almost every other morning of the week they awake before dawn, load their nets into outrigger canoes, and travel out to the edge of the coral reef where they spread their nets. Like many other Polynesian islands, Moorea is surrounded by coral reefs that leave beautiful, protected lagoons between the open ocean and the beaches. After Terii and Emile bring their catch in, they put the fish in pole-and-wire corrals in shallow water, so the fish will stay alive until they are needed. The brothers then hang their nets from trees to dry.
And because they love the water and because it is a warm January day, they decide to go fishing again, this time more for fun than food.
After the short paddle across Miti lagoon, they tie their canoes to the reef, don face masks and flippers, and holding their spear guns, slide over the sides of the canoes into the warm tropical waters. A glance in any direction underwater presents a world that looks like an ocean-sized, fully stocked tropical aquarium. Brightly colored fish of every imaginable shape swim everywhere, enjoying the sanctuary of the reef.
Today is a good day for the brothers—the swimming is good, they find some beautiful shells, and Emile catches one of the biggest apai that either of the brothers has ever seen.

I used to have a monster crush on Tyson Davis. Used to. I mean, he’s gorgeous. But he knows it. Besides, he’s kind of a jerk.
I am not going to call him. No way.
But …
Last Sunday I saw Tyson at church. It was the first time he’d been there in about a year. He looked really sad and miserable. He was sitting in the back row, and if I didn’t know better I’d say he’d been crying.
He didn’t stay for the whole meeting. I sort of wish he had. I wanted to talk to him. He looked so sad.
Ever since I saw Tyson, I can’t get him out of my head. I feel like I should call him. I’m not going to, though. When Tyson first moved into the ward, I called him all the time. I invited him to do things with the Young Women and Young Men. He never did anything with us, though, and he treated me like a pest. He made me feel stupid.
I am not going to call him.
Besides, I’m late. I’m going to the church dance.
I make it all the way to my car and start backing out of the driveway before I finally sigh. “Okay, I’ll call him.”
The urge to do it is too strong to ignore. And I grumble to myself all the way to the phone. I’ll call him, and he’ll make me feel like an idiot. But at least then I can go to the dance in peace.
“Hi,” I say when his little sister, Kari, answers the phone. “Is Tyson there?”
“Uh, I’m not sure,” she says. “Who is this?”
“It’s Michele.”
She’s silent for a moment. “From church?”
“Yep,” I tell her. “Michele from church.”
“He’s probably not here, then,” she says. “But I’ll check.”
I hear her put down the phone. I’m almost positive she is going to come back and tell me he’s not there. Apparently he’s having the six-year-old screen his calls. So I’m pretty floored when a minute later Tyson picks up the phone.
“Hello,” he says, “Michele?”
“Yeah.” He sounds friendly. Weird. Maybe Kari didn’t give him the whole message. “It’s Michele from church.”
“I know,” he says. “Hi.”
“Hi. Well, I was just calling—well, wondering, um, I saw you at church Sunday and you seemed really sad.”
Tyson is silent for a moment. “Yeah, I was.”
“I’m calling because there’s a dance at the stake center tonight. Maybe you should come.” I feel sort of lame inviting him, knowing how he feels about the Church. He’s been pretty clear he doesn’t want anything to do with us. Still, I can’t get my mouth to shut up. “Maybe it could cheer you up,” I tell him.
“Yeah, maybe.” He sounds thoughtful. “I’ll meet you there, okay?”
I nod, even though I’m talking into the phone. “Okay.”
“And Michele?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for calling.”
When I hang up the phone, I stand staring at it in amazement. Did I dial the wrong number? Was that really Tyson? Tyson Davis? Mr. I’m Too Good for Church Dances?
When I pick up Audrey and Shawna they don’t believe me about the conversation. “Tyson actually said he would come? Tonight? To the dance?” Shawna asks.
I nod. “That’s what he said.”
“He was being sarcastic,” Audrey decides.
When we get to the dance, we look all over the building. No Tyson. I dance for a while then go back to the parking lot—not really to wait for him but just because I have the feeling I should check it out. There I find Tyson sitting in his car.
I knock on his window, and he gives me a sad kind of smile. “Hi,” he says. He looks sort of embarrassed.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask.
“I couldn’t go in,” he says. “I was going to but, ah, I don’t know. I was hoping you would come out. I wanted to talk to you. Is that okay?”
I shrug. “Sure.”
I get in the passenger seat, and I’m surprised to see that he’s dressed up. I can tell he planned to go in. “What did you want to talk about?”
He’s silent for a moment. “When you called tonight it was weird. I’d been praying. I hadn’t done that in a long time—prayed, I mean. And then you called.”
He explains that his best friend, Seth, had died two weeks ago. He wasn’t from here. He lived in Florida where Tyson used to live.
“Seth was drunk and ran into a car,” Tyson says. “He died and everyone in the other car—a family—died too.”
Tyson wipes away a tear. “Seth messed up. He really messed up his life. I have too. I’ve messed mine up really bad. But I want to change. I really do. That’s what I was praying about, see, but it’s hard. My friends are partiers. That’s what we do. We party.”
Tyson’s silent for a moment. He looks tormented. “And I don’t have other friends. I mean, friends in the Church. I blew them off a long time ago. I was so mean to you. But then tonight you called.” He sounds full of wonder.
I didn’t know what to say. “I just felt like I should.”
“Yeah, see, that’s it,” he says. “You’re really close to God. He talks to you and you listen.”
Tingles run through my body. “Yeah, but Tyson, you can have that too. It’s the Holy Ghost. If you listen, He’ll talk to you.”
Tyson shakes his head. “I’m not like you. You don’t know what I’ve done. I’ve done bad things.”
“But Tyson,” I protest.
“Look, you don’t have to bear your testimony to me. I know what you believe. You live what you believe. I watched you all last year. You can’t know how it is for me. You don’t do things wrong.”
“I do too!”
“Well, not like me,” he says. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re the way you are. I needed someone to talk to tonight. I’m glad it was you.”
I blush, feeling totally complimented. “So, do you want to go into the dance?”
“I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” he says. “I thought I was. I want to change my life around. That’s what I want. But it’s harder than you think.”
“I don’t think it’s as hard as you think,” I tell him, pulling him out of the car. “It’s just a church dance.”
I take his hand. “Don’t be scared. I’ll be with you.”
“Mormon Michele, protector of the inactives,” Tyson says with a grin.
“That’s right,” I tell him. “And don’t you forget it.” I give his hand a squeeze. “I mean it, Tyson. Don’t forget it.”

One hot August day some years ago, there occurred a tragedy in Salt Lake County. It was reported in the local and national press. Five beautiful little girls—so young, so vibrant, so loving—hiding away, as children often do in their games of hide-and-seek, entered the trunk of a parent’s car. The trunk lid was pulled shut, they were unable to escape, and all perished from heat exhaustion.
The entire community was so kind, so thoughtful, so caring in the passing of those five little girls. Flowers, food, calls, visits, and prayers were shared with their families.
On the Sunday after the devastating event occurred, long lines of automobiles filled with grieving occupants drove ever so slowly past the home that was the scene of the accident. Sister Monson and I wished to be among those who expressed condolences in this way. As we drove by, we felt we were on holy ground. We literally crept along at a snail’s pace along the street. It was as though we could visualize a traffic sign reading, “Please drive slowly; children at play.” Tears filled our eyes and compassion flowed from our hearts. In two of the three families involved, the deceased children were all the children they had.
Frequently death comes as an intruder. It is an enemy that suddenly appears in the midst of life’s feast, putting out its lights and gaiety. It visits the aged as they walk on faltering feet. Its summons is heard by those who have scarcely reached midway in life’s journey, and often it hushes the laughter of little children.
At the funeral services for the five little angels, I counseled: “There is one phrase which should be erased from your thinking and from the words you speak aloud. It is the phrase ‘If only.’ It is counterproductive and is not conducive to the spirit of healing and of peace. Rather, recall the words of Proverbs: ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.’“
Before the closing of the caskets, I noted that each child held a favorite toy, a soft gift to cuddle. I reflected on the words of the poet Eugene Field:
The little toy dog is covered with dust,
But sturdy and staunch he stands;
And the little toy soldier is red with rust,
And his musket moulds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new,
And the soldier was passing fair,
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue
Kissed them and put them there.
“Now, don’t you go till I come,” he said,
“And don’t you make any noise!”
So toddling off to his trundle-bed
He dreamt of the pretty toys.
And, as he was dreaming, an angel song
Awakened our Little Boy Blue,—
Oh! the years are many, the years are long,
But the little toy friends are true!
Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,
Each in the same old place,
Awaiting the touch of a little hand,
The smile of a little face.
And they wonder, as waiting the long years through,
In the dust of that little chair,
What has become of our Little Boy Blue
Since he kissed them and put them there.
The little toy dog and the soldier fair may wonder, but 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.”

After school one day Yuriya Kitahara’s friends wanted to show her a new comic book. It took only a moment for Yuriya, a Laurel, to realize that there was nothing funny about these comics—the book was pornographic.
Around the same time, Junko Saijo, a Mia Maid, was with her friends when one of them lit a cigarette and offered it to Junko.
Not long after, a group of students at Sho Watanabe’s school was arrested for selling drugs to other students.
Fortunately, Yuriya dropped the comic book. Junko refused the cigarette. And Sho, a priest, has tried to be careful in choosing his friends.
Though the Church is growing in Japan, these teens still have to face the temptations of the world every day. That’s part of the test we came to earth to take. The question is: are we up to the challenge? And if we aren’t, how can we be?
Breaking the Word of Wisdom is a common temptation in Tokyo, according to a group of young members from different stakes who have gotten together to talk about the challenges they face.
Several of the youth were faced with the temptation of tobacco as soon as they were teenagers. Others are lucky enough to have avoided it altogether so far. Not everyone faces the same temptations. But tobacco is a common trap for Tokyo teens.
“It’s so easy to buy tobacco here; it’s difficult for some not to buy it,” says Hikaru Watanabe, a deacon and Sho’s younger brother.
Alcohol is another problem presented early on to many youth.
“After a school activity ends, all the students usually go somewhere to have a party,” says Yuriya. “Sometimes my friends ask me to go. They don’t say they’re going to drink, but to many teens, going to a party means going to drink. They don’t think that’s bad.” The other youth all nod in agreement—they’ve been in similar situations.
The teens also agree that pornography and immorality are running rampant among their peers.
“Music is getting bad too,” says Keiko Saijo, a Laurel and Junko’s older sister. “The lyrics are just awful.”
These are temptations and challenges Latter-day Saint teens are facing all around the world. What are they doing about it? They are learning that through the gospel, they can find the strength they need to overcome all their challenges.
The youth agree that to overcome the temptations thrown at them every day, they need the guidance of the Holy Ghost.
“It’s not just my own strength, but relying on the Lord that gets me through,” says priest Yuuya Kitahara, Yuriya’s younger brother. “Coming closer to the Lord helps us avoid the temptations and overcome them.”
That is a valuable lesson. “If we don’t do things to be closer to the Spirit, we would probably end up just like many youth outside of the Church, smoking, watching pornography, and worse,” says Yuriya.
It’s a lesson taught several times in the Book of Mormon. Without the Spirit of the Lord, the Nephites became “weak, like unto their brethren, the Lamanites” (Helaman 4:24; see also Mosiah 1:13; Mormon 2:26).
“When I feel the Spirit, I feel like the temptations just go away,” says Hikaru. “That strength comes from the Spirit.”
Yuuya says praying morning and night helps bring the Spirit. Yuriya feels closer to the Holy Ghost by studying the scriptures every day. Yuuya’s twin brother, Yuuki, mentions youth activities and seminary. And Junko says going to church and family home evening have not only helped her feel the Spirit but have taught her ways to overcome temptations. And each says attending the temple has made a big difference. “I feel a special power when I come to the temple of the Lord,” says Sho. He says he can resist temptations better when he goes to the temple regularly.
For the past few years, Sho and Hikaru have tried to go to the temple every Thursday to perform baptisms for the dead. Keiko and Junko, and Yuriya and her brothers try to attend every Friday.
“Coming to the temple strengthens me,” Keiko says.

In March, his physician told us that John had two options: (1) have a feeding tube inserted, which might sustain John’s life for a few more months but that would require him to stay mostly in bed; or (2) have John continue without the feeding tube and endure the difficulties that came with his inability to eat. The doctor said, “It’s your life. You should make the decision. What do you want to do?” Calmly and remarkably clearly, John replied, “No tube.”
Tears trickled from my eyes as we left the doctor’s office. Memories of John’s recent remarks and actions came to mind, making it clear that he had known this was coming and had already accepted it. My love for John led me to support his choice.
I believed I knew what that meant. In reality, I did not. Neither did I know how gratitude would ease my pain.
Throughout his life, John had loved the words of 1 Thessalonians 5:18: “In every thing give thanks.” Before mealtime prayers, for instance, John never asked someone to “say the blessing.” Instead, he always said, “Let’s give thanks.” John knew that gratitude was vital to happiness. He also knew, as the rest of that verse from Thessalonians continues about gratitude, “for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.”
John recognized that death is part of God’s plan (see Alma 42:8–9) and that for him, death was near. But he continued faithful in Christ with gratitude.
After leaving the doctor’s office, John and I called a family council. Our family who lived far away joined us through video conferencing. We began with prayer. Then, as I held John’s hand, I shared his decision and what the doctor told us to expect. I spoke of the peace we both felt and reminded our family of the comforting feelings everyone had experienced for months. All of us, including the grandchildren, realized that Papa (as they called John) did not have long to live.
We had expressed gratitude to God for letting us all know that time with John was short and for granting us the opportunity to prepare emotionally. A few weeks prior to this day, our son Spencer had asked John how he felt about dying. John had responded, “I’ve lived a good life, and I am still trying to do so. I’m grateful for my life! As long as Carma Lee is by my side, I’m not eager to die, but I’m also not afraid.” John was prepared and, because of that, he felt at peace (see Doctrine and Covenants 38:30).
We sat in family council, with our hearts aching and tears falling, yet we also felt peace. We asked John if he had any last wishes. He looked at us with love and longing in his eyes; then, although for weeks he had only spoken in a whisper, he said one word distinctly: “Temple.” His sons immediately replied, “We’ll make that happen, Dad!”
Our family council ended with our sons, who were with us in person, giving both John and me a priesthood blessing. As they laid their hands on my head, gratitude filled me. I felt warmth, like that of a loving hug. I knew God would help us traverse the challenges ahead. He would soften the grief and help us find the joy.
That is exactly what happened! We soon attended the temple again, with our sons helping John through the endowment session. I was so grateful! The Spirit filled our hearts.
As John’s condition worsened, he and I continued our practice of beginning and ending each day with prayers of gratitude. As we did so, we found that grief did not overwhelm us or our posterity. Each one had opportunities to hug Papa and express their love and gratitude for him. We found moments of joy. Peace seeped into the hearts of our posterity and others who visited, strengthening them and softening their grief too.
However, despite the peace that prevailed in our home, watching my vibrant, exceedingly active husband deteriorate and lose 50 pounds in a month was heart-wrenching. Late at night on April 21, John lay in bed. He was surrounded by his children and me. We sensed that his spirit would depart his body at any moment. I lay beside him, holding his hand and whispering words of love and gratitude for our life. I thanked him for the inspiring example he had set as he responded to his afflictions by turning to the Lord in faith and gratitude. I kissed him. Within seconds, he was gone.
After John’s body was taken away, our family sat together in our home. Tears fell from our eyes as we expressed thankfulness that John’s mortal suffering had ended. Words of gratitude spilled from my mouth as I thought of the many tender mercies Heavenly Father had given to us (see 1 Nephi 1:20). God had enabled me to care for John in our home, despite having physical issues myself (which actually necessitated multiple surgeries not long after John died).
As we talked, I was comforted as I expressed thanks for the eternal promises of our temple covenants (see Doctrine and Covenants 132:19–20). I told my children I felt like Johnny was hugging me, confirming what I was saying as I expressed gratitude. What a joyous feeling! I reminded my family of President Russell M. Nelson’s words in November 2020: “Practicing gratitude may not prevent us from experiencing sorrow, anger, or pain, but it can help us look forward with hope.”1
Suddenly, I felt a heavenly embrace so strongly that it filled me with awe. I also felt that John was well and happy and that I should be too. Right then, I promised myself—and my sweetheart—that I would be.
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.

Life gets crazy when you’re a 17-year-old girl. High school crushes, geometry tests, weekend window-shopping at the mall, and late-night phone conversations all add up, along with the lifelong task of discovering who you really are.
My senior year in high school was quite an adventurous one. I sang in two choirs, performed with the high school dance company, participated in region and state drama, studied in Advanced Placement and college concurrent-enrollment classes, and dated. I felt like a typical high school student.
But there was one exception—my mother was dying of Lou Gehrig’s disease (ALS). The disease attacks the nervous system in the body. The brain sends messages to the muscles to move, but the disease prevents these messages from getting where they need to go. The result: a loss of the ability to move any muscles. It becomes difficult to eat, breathe, sit, stand, walk, talk, or do much of anything. It was so hard to see my mother experience this. We literally watched every muscle in her throat give out before she died.
She came home from the hospital on Mother’s Day, and that night she asked my brother and me to sing “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief” (Hymns, no. 29). I made it through one verse and then collapsed in tears. The morning she died, we played a Mormon Tabernacle Choir CD. As she passed through the veil from one world to the next, the increasing emotion of the choir singing “The Spirit of God” (Hymns, no. 2) filled the room and accompanied our tears of grief and love.
There were two scriptures in particular that helped me through this difficult and life-changing period. The first is found in Alma 40:23: “The soul shall be restored to the body, and the body to the soul; yea, and every limb and joint shall be restored to its body; yea, even a hair of the head shall not be lost; but all things shall be restored to their proper and perfect frame.”
This scripture strengthened me because I knew that when I see my mother again, she won’t have the weakened body she left this life with. She will be whole; she will be perfect.
She will be the mother I played with, prayed with, laughed with, and lived life with.
A friend sent me a card the day after my mother died, and inside was the second scripture: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid” (John 14:27).
Ever since that trying period of my life, I’ve looked back on this scripture as a way to hold me up in times of trial, to keep me going in times of pain, and to comfort me in times of tears. This scripture touched my heart then and continues to do so today.

When Sasha Strachova was 13 years old, she began to feel a yearning to know God. For months, she prayed, “Heavenly Father, I want to know thee more.”
The Lord answered her prayer. One day, two missionaries were invited to speak to the students in her school class in St. Petersburg, Russia. Something they said caught her by surprise and riveted her attention: “Men are, that they might have joy” (2 Ne. 2:25). What an unusual concept that was! “But I believed it,” says Sasha. “I felt they knew how we could have joy in life.”
Excitedly, she hurried home to share her discovery with her mother. But her mother, recently divorced and feeling burdened with life, dismissed her news and her excitement. Sasha begged for permission to attend Sunday meetings at the branch, even though it was far from where she and her mother lived. “Mama said, ‘Why do you have to travel so far?’ But I said, ‘Mama, I will go to this church.’”
The next Sunday, Sasha traveled alone by bus and subway to reach the branch. “I felt love there,” she says. “I felt life in the people. I was just starting to know about God, and I wanted very much to feel what they were feeling.”
Soon she was asking her mother if the missionaries could come to their apartment. “My mother said, ‘No, we don’t need missionaries.’ But I told her, ‘Mama, I will wash the floor every day. Please let them come.’” After a month of washing floors, Sasha convinced her mother to let the missionaries come. When they arrived, they were surprised to find the apartment crowded with 13-year-olds. Sasha had invited her entire school class! Three months later, she and two of her friends were baptized.
Sasha wanted her mother to enjoy the blessings of the gospel. “I fasted and prayed for her,” she says. “Every night I put notes on her bed. I wrote: ‘My dear mommy, God loves you so much. Please pray to him. He will certainly bless you today.’” Sasha has family home evening with her mother and still hopes she will eventually be baptized.

The testimony of the Prophet Joseph continues to change lives. Some years ago I served as the president of the Canadian Mission. In Ontario, Canada, two of our missionaries were proselyting door-to-door on a cold, snowy afternoon. They had not had any measure of success. One elder was experienced; one was new.
The two called at the home of Mr. Elmer Pollard, and he, feeling sympathy for the almost frozen missionaries, invited them in. They presented their message and asked if he would join in prayer. He agreed, on the provision that he could offer the prayer.
The prayer he offered astonished the missionaries. He said, “Heavenly Father, bless these two unfortunate, misguided missionaries, that they may return to their homes and not waste their time telling the people of Canada about a message which is so fantastic and about which they know so little.”
As they arose from their knees, Mr. Pollard asked the missionaries never to return to his home. As they left, he said mockingly to them, “You can’t tell me you really believe that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, anyway!” and he slammed the door.
The missionaries had walked but a short distance when the junior companion said timidly, “Elder, we didn’t answer Mr. Pollard.”
The senior companion responded: “We’ve been rejected. Let’s move on.”
The young missionary persisted, however, and the two returned to Mr. Pollard’s door. Mr. Pollard answered the knock and angrily said, “I thought I told you young men never to return!”
The junior companion then said, with all the courage he could muster, “Mr. Pollard, when we left your door, you said that we didn’t really believe Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. I want to testify to you, Mr. Pollard, that I know Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, that by inspiration he translated the sacred record known as the Book of Mormon, that he did see God the Father and Jesus the Son.” The missionaries then departed the doorstep.
I heard this same Mr. Pollard in a testimony meeting state the experiences of that memorable day. He said: “That evening, sleep would not come. I tossed and turned. Over and over in my mind I heard the words, ‘Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. I know it. … I know it. … I know it.’ I could scarcely wait for morning to come. I telephoned the missionaries, using their number which was printed on the small card containing the Articles of Faith. They returned, and this time my wife, my family, and I joined in the discussion as earnest seekers of truth. As a result, we have all embraced the gospel of Jesus Christ. We shall ever be grateful to the testimony of truth brought to us by those two courageous, humble missionaries.”

Mary, a young girl with mental disabilities and not a member of the Church, was limited, but she wanted very much to be included. Sensitive to her needs, several young women invited her to participate in the ward road show. Her family was invited to the performance. Mary’s father wanted to know more about a church whose people cared enough about his daughter to include her. The whole family embraced the gospel and were baptized.

“Father and Mother went to great lengths to make Christmas a happy time for us. One Christmas a piece of string led from our filled stockings to our major presents hidden somewhere in the house. Hours had been spent making these preparations. We boys arose before we were supposed to, and in the dark we accidentally broke the strings. Father and Mother had to spend the remainder of the night repairing the damage.”

The Prophet led the way in physical and moral courage. For example, the morning after he was attacked and tarred and feathered by the mob, he was scraped clean and then preached to a congregation that included his enemies. Not so well known is a similar episode in returning from a Canadian mission in the latter part of 1837. At the time, a friend of the family wrote of the Prophet and his companion Sidney Rigdon making their way back to Kirtland, Ohio, through the swamps at night. They had been unjustly arrested, but they escaped at night, and a mob of men was trying to track them down. Joseph took his older counselor by the hand, and they “covenanted to live and die together.” When the mob came their way, Joseph and Sidney hid on wet ground, hardly breathing for the fear of discovery. The mud-soaked men reached home about 3:00 A.M., sick with fatigue, but after a short sleep Joseph appeared in the temple to speak “in a very powerful manner and blessed the congregation in the name of the Lord.”

Our mortal experiences offer us the opportunity to choose holiness. Most often it is the sacrifices we make to keep our covenants that sanctify us and make us holy.
I saw holiness in the countenance of Evangeline, a 13-year-old girl in Ghana. One of the ways she keeps her covenants is by magnifying her calling as the Beehive class president. She humbly explained that she goes to the homes of her friends, the less-active young women, to ask their parents to allow them to come to church. The parents tell her that it is difficult because on Sunday the children must do household chores. So Evangeline goes and helps with the chores, and by her efforts her friends are often permitted to come to church.
Sister Carol F. McConkie, First Counselor in the Young Women General Presidency

Joe shows up and things are, I’m happy to say, fairly routine around our house. Maybe part of the reason is that the twins are in bed and both my parents are at the grocery store. At last, Joe can glimpse the Grundy household in a nearly normal mode.
We get right down to it, going over the last details of our presentation and Greg’s recipe for kisseli, which we’ll prepare tomorrow at Joe’s, with some help from his mom. After a half-hour, I get up to grab Greg’s slides. The hallway is dark, but April whisks by me, without her glasses. There’s a trace of perfume in the air.
Perfume? Something is not right. April never wears perfume.
It can’t be! I stop dead in my tracks and do a hasty retreat to the den. But I am too late. April is already asking Joe out for the girls’ choice dance.
“… so if you’d like to, it would be fun if we could go together.”
What will Joe say? After he gets up off the floor laughing, that is. April, my sister, who is not even in Joe’s social league, asking him to the dance? Some things are just not done.
I peek in. April is looking nervously at Joe, as if her life hinges on his answer. Joe looks uncomfortable.
But not for the reason I expect. “Gosh, April. I’d like to. I think you’re cool. But I’ve already been asked, and it wouldn’t be fair to back out on a date. Maybe we can get together sometime other than the dance.”
What? Joe sounds as though he’d really like to go out with April. No sign of annoyance, not the slightest hint of put-down in his voice. The only thing I can detect is concern that April’s feelings—and fragile self-image—remain intact. I back away from the door, struggling to comprehend what I’ve just seen. What is it?
Cool, that’s what it is.

I began seeking for ways that I could teach “The Living Christ” to our children. I recognized that they were young (our oldest was 11) and that this precious document was rather lengthy. But I had a desire, and after I prayed and thought about it often, the Spirit showed me how I could teach my family.
I had long collected pictures cut out of old Church magazines. I went to the box where I kept them and started pulling out pictures that seemed to match the different phrases in “The Living Christ.” For instance, for “He was the Great Jehovah of the Old Testament,” I found a picture of Christ, as Jehovah, talking with Moses. For the next phrase, “Under the direction of His Father,” I found a picture of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ standing together. Within a short time, I had gathered many pictures and paired them with their associated text from “The Living Christ.”
December seemed the perfect time for our family to start focusing on “The Living Christ.” Our children were excited and really got into our endeavor. We posted the pictures we were working on in our kitchen. I noticed that during the day, the kids would say the phrases as they passed by the pictures. When everyone had memorized the set of pictures on the wall, we put them away and started working on a new set.
With each picture, we discussed the gospel and life of Jesus Christ. Our family home evening lessons were filled with stories and lessons about the Savior. My husband taught some of the concepts in “The Living Christ,” bringing new insights.
Family prayers became more meaningful because the children gave more thought to Him in whose name they were praying. The Spirit filled our home. We felt like Nephi when he wrote, “We talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ” (2 Nephi 25:26). Our home became a place of greater peace.