Gospel Story Finder

What can you do to strengthen marriage and family? One thing is be a good example and don’t apologize for valuing marriage and family. In my first teaching job at a university back East some colleagues routinely teased me about being married and especially having multiple children. I tried to take the teasing in stride. Then, years later after taking a position at BYU, one of those who used to ridicule me, called. He said that he had fallen in love and was thinking of getting married. I told him that I thought marriage was a wonderful institution and that he should take the leap. He said, “you don’t understand, she will want children.” I said that I also find children a great joy. He then asked a telling question, “Do you think I can be happily married and be happy as a father?” I told him that marriage helps people grow and change for the better and that so do children. He got married, he and his wife have three children and I will never forget how proud he was to show photos of his first child soon after her birth.

What lessons can we learn from my colleague’s phone call. People will often not tell you they respect you for your commitment to marriage and family. But they are watching and as in this case, modeling.

I was called to a home in a little village in New Zealand one day. There the Relief Society sisters were preparing the body of one of our Saints. They had placed his body out in front of the big house, as they call it—the house where the people come to wail and weep and mourn over the dead—when in rushed the dead man’s brother.

He said, “Administer to him.”

The young natives said, “Why, you shouldn’t do that; he’s dead.”

“You do it!”

This same old man that I had had with me when his niece was ill was there. The younger native got down on his knees and anointed the dead man. Then this great old sage got down and blessed him and commanded him to arise. You should have seen the Relief Society sisters scatter.

He sat up and said, “Send for the elders; I don’t feel very well.”

Of course, all of that was just psychological effect on that dead man. Wonderful, isn’t it—this psychological effect business?

We told him he had just been administered to, and he said, “Oh, that was it.”

He said, “I was dead. I could feel life coming back into me just like a blanket unrolling.”

He outlived the brother who had come in and told us to administer to him.

I started going to church with Joe, and we made a plan to deal with my concerns. The first step was to identify what, exactly, bothered me about the gospel. We bought a small journal that I brought with me every Sunday. Whenever someone made a comment that irritated me, looked at a scripture with a perspective that I thought seemed odd, or talked about a policy that rubbed me the wrong way, I wrote down my feelings.
I scribbled in that journal for months. I would say things like, “I hate it when people say … ,” “Doesn’t anyone fact-check?” and “That makes no sense to me.” Expressing my feelings as I had them made them easier for me to understand and process. Before, when something bothered me, I would hold on to it all day, and it would poison my church experience. But as I wrote in my journal, I became free to enjoy more of church, in between the moments I struggled with. I was getting more out of it than I had in a long time.
Now that I had identified what bothered me, the next step was determining why these things bugged me. As we would eat Sunday dinner, Joe and I would discuss what I’d written in my journal. Sometimes I would simply say, “This is how I feel. I don’t know why.” Figuring things out took a lot of discussion, personal thought, and prayer. One thing I’ve always believed is that prayer is the most important and accurate source of information on pretty much everything.
Working together, Joe and I realized that when you know who you are and what you believe, it builds a wall of protection around your heart. And so, after a while of writing in my journal and discussing it with Joe and with Heavenly Father, I ran out of criticism regarding the Church.

The Relief Society general presidency met with some young women to learn how they feel about making the transition from the Young Women organization into Relief Society. Their comments reflect a mixture of uncertainty and anticipation.
“I’m a little bit scared to go into Relief Society,” said one young woman. “In Young Women, the lessons pertain to what I’m going through. But when I think of Relief Society, I think of older women talking about what concerns older women and maybe not what concerns me.”
One young woman commented: “I think I’ll be entering into a formal situation in which the ladies are quiet and always well behaved. I just hope I’ll be able to belong and have fun with them.”

As a newly ordained teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood, my first home teaching companion was Henry Wilkening, a high priest nearly 60 years my senior. He was a German immigrant, a shoemaker by trade, small in stature, but an energetic and faithful shepherd to the families assigned to us. I trotted behind him (for he seemed to walk and to climb stairs much faster than I could) during our monthly visits, which took us into sobering environments new to my sheltered experience. He expected me to present part of each lesson and to make all the appointments, but mostly I listened and watched as he aided brothers and sisters with various spiritual and social, economic and emotional needs previously unknown to me as a 14-year-old.
I began to realize how much good could be done by a single faithful priesthood bearer. I watched Brother Wilkening forging a strong priesthood link for himself through his loving service to those families in need—and to me in my youth.

Julia Awashish, a 17-year-old Native American from Quebec City, agrees with Marc. “We need to always remember the covenants we made at baptism,” she says. “The promises we have made to our Heavenly Father are the things that make us strong as members of the Church. It’s been six years since I joined the Church. I’m glad my mother and I joined, because it helps me so much when I have a problem to deal with, and it helps me remember to be happy, because the gospel is a message of joy.”

Julia says that when she and her mother returned to visit relatives in their village of Obedjiwan, which is far to the north of Quebec, at first “there was a lot of gossip about us being Latter-day Saints. But now everyone has seen by our example that we are friendly, normal people, so they accept us just fine.”

Eighteen years ago, my wife and I received a phone call from President James E. Faust, then Second Counselor in the First Presidency. He called us to serve as mission president and companion in Portugal. He told us that we had only six weeks before we started the mission. Although we felt unprepared and inadequate, we accepted the call. Our most important concern at the time was to obtain the visas required to serve in that country because, according to past experience, we knew the process took six to eight months to complete.
President Faust then asked if we had faith that the Lord would perform a miracle and that we would be able to solve the visa problem faster. Our answer was a big yes, and we started making the arrangements immediately. We prepared the documents required for the visas, took our three young children, and went to the consulate as fast as we could. A very nice lady met with us there. In reviewing our papers and getting acquainted with what we were going to do in Portugal, she turned to us and asked, “Are you really going to help the people of my country?” We firmly answered yes and explained that we would represent Jesus Christ and testify of Him and His divine mission in the world. We returned there four weeks later, received our visas, and landed in the mission field within the six weeks, as a prophet of the Lord had asked us to do.

My own “opal” moment came as I sat in a stark 3x4 cubicle just before Thanksgiving break during my second PhD year. Everyone else had left the building and I worked alone, gathering data from a little investigation of how attentional focus affected my violin students’ bow habits. While they had played a musical scale, I observed what happened when students’ attention was directed away from or toward each of two bow technique skills: (1) using a full bow stroke, and (2) using precise bow contact point on the string (i.e. playing in the best-sounding “sweet spot”).
What you see on the screen is a timeline of one student’s scales during the first of several sessions. The bottom row shows which skill I had directed them to attend to. The top two rows show codes indicating what happened to their bow length or their contact point during each bow stroke, while their attention was directed toward and away from each skill. Red is bad. Green is good.
The data solidified in colors of red, yellow, and green codes along timelines. Usually, this is an exciting moment—my favorite of any study—when all the tedious hours of data-gathering coalesce into a result. This time, however, I experienced something different than excitement. I was stunned. Upon seeing the results, I was simultaneously confronted with the possible implications of what emerged on my screen. I heard myself gasping the words, “We don’t stand a chance.”
Notice how well the violinist did on bow length when they were thinking about bow length. Notice how little green there is when they were not thinking about bow length, or how many more red ticks there are on the middle line when they were not thinking about contact point.
I was stunned.
What stunned me weren’t the ramifications for skill learning on a musical instrument, though that was a thing, too. My mind was caught up in farther-reaching implications. My violin students had been doing a fairly simple (so I thought) activity, within the context of a fairly controlled lesson environment, as designed by a pretty great teacher (so I supposed). This wasn’t even close to the most challenging stuff my students played on their instruments, and yet they struggled to maintain fundamental skills. What then of the possibility of having some chance at being a decent person, a “perfect” person, or even just getting better, in the messy mortal day-to-day existence we pass through, among a constant bombardment of uncontrollable factors?
What if I told you that this is not coming from Matthew, nor 3 Nephi? I am quoting from Luke. In Luke, Christ does not say, “Be perfect as your Father is perfect,” nor “complete” either. Luke relates Jesus’ words as, “Be ye therefore merciful, as your Father also is merciful.” [2]
Luke’s account uses the same phraseology as Matthew, but instead of “perfect,” or even “complete,” inserts the word “merciful,” sometimes translated as “compassionate” or “kind.”
When I had my “opal” moment, in my semi-conscious mind, life’s purpose was to always do right, always be good, never offend. I had been spending time with some who were especially scrupulous, in a way that inhibited them and me from extending self-compassion, or made it difficult to start in on tasks because so much weight was riding on doing them right. Sound familiar to some of you? In our minds, the purpose of existence was to be as close to perfect as possible in every moment and mentally flog ourselves when we were not—even though I was aware of President Russell M. Nelson’s enlightening address, “Perfection Pending,” in which he explains, “In Matt. 5:48, the term perfect was translated from the Greek teleios, which means ‘complete.’” [3] Not “without error.” Unhealthy perfectionism had nevertheless perseverated within myself and those around me.
That “opal” moment evening, my assumptions experienced an unexpected assault, so as to incite the wonderfully uncomfortable cognitive dissonance that is learning. “Maybe,” I said to myself, “this mortal existence isn’t about living a perfect, unblemished life. Maybe it’s at least in part about becoming perfectly merciful—to learn to extend one another grace.” After all, that’s what Jesus extends to each of us.

Last month on Brian’s day, he and Dad went to the park. Daddy pushed him in the swing and on the merry-go-round. They played together in the sandbox and built a sand castle. Brian had a lot of fun playing with Dad, but he thought that the best part was when they just talked.

He liked the talking time best because he learned things about Daddy, and Daddy learned things about him. Brian knew that his dad is a real estate agent, but last month he learned what that meant: His dad sells houses to people.

Dad asked Brian, “What is your favorite thing to do at school?”

Brian smiled and said, “I like to paint with my feet! I like the way it feels when the thick paint smushes through my toes.”

Dear Jen* and Kersten: Do you know what the answer to number seven is?”
The words were scribbled hastily on a wadded-up piece of paper and handed to us by Shane, one of the most popular students in our high school class. I nervously glanced at Jen as she read the words on the paper. We were taking a math test, and our teacher had stepped out of the classroom for a moment. Shane had taken the opportunity to hand us the paper without getting caught.
I thought back to my conversation with Jen that morning as we walked to the end of the street where our bus would pick us up.
“Don’t you think Shane is the most gorgeous guy in our math class?” Jen asked me.
“Try the most gorgeous guy in the entire school!” I said. “If he ever gave me the time of day, I would be the happiest girl in the world!”
When we arrived in fifth period math class, Shane, who usually ignored us, started up a conversation.
“Hi. Did you study for the test?”
“Sure,” I said, flashing a smile. “Did you?”
He said that he had, but he was still a little nervous.
I understood what he meant. Even though I had studied hard, I could feel my palms sweating as Mr. Harrison passed out the exam.
Just as they were sweating now, I thought as I took the note back from Jen. I knew that cheating was wrong, but Shane had actually passed me a note! Maybe if I helped him, he would pay more attention to me, or maybe even ask me on a date! My daydreams of dating Shane became more elaborate as I passed back the note with the answers Jen and I had written on the paper.
As I finished my test, the smell of chalk and pencil lead suddenly seemed to overpower me. I felt sick to my stomach. When Mr. Harrison collected the tests, my hands shook as I gave him the papers. I felt so guilty! I hadn’t expected to feel so awful. I looked at Jen and could tell she felt the same way.
When the class was finally over, Jen asked me to wait while she went to talk to Mr. Harrison.
I wondered what she was talking to him about, and I nervously peered through the door from the hallway trying to read their lips.
After a time I saw Mr. Harrison smile and pat Jen on the back as she turned and walked slowly towards me.
“What was that all about?” I asked nonchalantly. She told me that she had admitted to Mr. Harrison that she had cheated on the test.
“What?” I looked at her, dumbfounded.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell on you or Shane. I just knew I had done something wrong, and I felt so bad I wanted to repent.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and asked her what the teacher said. He told her that he was disappointed in her for cheating and hoped she would never do it again. Because she had the courage to admit it, he would only drop her score one letter grade instead of giving her a failing mark.
At that time in my life, I didn’t think I would ever understand why Jen would risk failing a test just so she could feel better about herself. I never admitted cheating to Mr. Harrison or to my parents. In fact, I forgot about the incident completely until three years later, when I found myself being taught by the Mormon missionaries. I remembered Jen, who I knew was a Latter-day Saint, risking so much to repent, and I finally understood. Though she may never know it, her example three years earlier helped me to understand the importance of integrity.
As I read the scripture in Matthew 7:16 [Matt. 7:16]: “Ye shall know them by their fruits,” I thought of Jen and all the other members of the Church who had set good examples for me. That’s when I decided to join The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Shane never did ask me out on a date or even talk to me again. But as I went into the waters of baptism, I really did feel like the happiest girl in the world.

When I was 16, I attended high school at a technical school in order to earn an associate’s degree in electronics. As a requirement for my degree, I had to complete a 30-day internship at a local business to show my technical skills.
My internship was with a paper goods company. My desire to serve a full-time mission had begun to grow, and this job would help me earn enough money to go. But there were three of us interns, and the company would only select one of us for a full-time position.
The company had a machine that had failed. When the machine was working properly, it could complete as much work as three similar machines. This piece of equipment hadn’t been working for quite some time, and the company had ordered replacement parts from abroad to activate it—but it still didn’t work. I accepted the challenge to try to fix it.
Illustrations by David Curtis
Day after day, I spent hours studying the machine. But it was complicated, and it wouldn’t be easy to determine in just 30 days why it had failed, especially for someone as inexperienced as I was. However, I felt I could do it. Each morning before work, I read articles from the Liahona magazine and prayed to my Father in Heaven. I also struck up a friendship with my boss, an experienced electrical engineer, who obtained permission for me to take home copies of the blueprints on the weekends. I studied them intently.
As the internship drew to an end, my two colleagues finished their assigned projects and I felt the pressure growing. But in spite of negative (and even mocking) comments around me, I never doubted. The Friday that marked the end of our internships arrived quickly. Though I had resolved some of the issues, the machine still wasn’t working. I felt confident that I was close to fixing it, so I told my boss that if I could have permission to work on Saturday, the machine would be fixed by Monday.
My words astonished my boss so much that he personally requested permission from the president of the company. My boss then informed me that the next day, all three of us—the president of the company, my boss, and I—would be working, just until noon. “All three?” I asked. He explained that the company president, an electronics engineer, was interested in my proposal because there had been so many failed efforts to repair the machine that he had given up on repairing it.
The next day, I was very intimidated to be working alongside two adult engineers. I was young and lacked expertise. However, they offered to work as my assistants; I felt uncomfortable and, at the same time, very privileged.
It was just minutes before noon when the president and my boss realized that our efforts had been a waste. I excused myself and went into the bathroom. I knelt down, praying to my Father with great fervor. I felt an unexplainable, marvelous strength. I asked Him to help me get the job because I would need it to help me pay for my mission.
I came out of the bathroom electrified; but by that time, my assistants had already closed up the circuit compartments and gathered up the tools. I opened the machine back up and looked carefully at the 15 circuit cards inside. I noticed that one simple pin among over 4,000 pins in the system was not connected to the card. I connected it, put it in place, and turned on the machine. It worked! It was a miracle.
It was an unforgettable and touching moment. My boss hugged me, and the company president shook my hand and congratulated me energetically.
I was able to work for that company for nearly two years, save up the money I needed, and leave on my long-awaited mission. When I explained the reason for my departure, the president of the company bid me farewell and said, “You already know where to come back to work after you finish your mission. I wish you much success.”
This experience showed me that nothing is impossible for God. If we do not doubt, miracles will be made manifest, but only after the trial of our faith—even at the last moment. Yes, miracles do occur.

It wasn’t long after the October 2011 general conference that 14-year-old Courtney D. of South Dakota approached her stake Young Women president and asked if they could have an activity to learn how to do family history work. Courtney had been touched by a general conference talk by Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, particularly when he directed his message to the youth of the Church.
The stake Young Women president thought the activity was a good idea, and she suggested that Courtney prepare a presentation to give to her peers at youth conference, which was just three weeks away.
Courtney was a little overwhelmed—after all, she had never done any family history work before—but she agreed. Her mom and her younger sister Savannah were learning about family history work, so for the next three weeks on Tuesday nights, they went to the stake family history center and learned how to use FamilySearch.
Courtney, Savannah, and their mom spent time entering data from family records they received from Courtney’s great aunt. They found that no work had been done on her mom’s side. “We started finding a lot of things, and I was so excited!” she says.
Before Courtney started learning about family history, she had just assumed, as many of us do, that if she ever needed genealogical information, she would talk to her uncle, who, she says, “did a lot of the work for our family.”
But Courtney says that Elder Bednar’s talk helped her think about family history work in a different way. It was something she could be involved in.
“I actually really like history, so I had learned a little bit about family history, but never enough to actually do it,” she says. “When Elder Bednar told the youth that we need to do it—that we’ve basically been trained to do it with technology—I thought, ‘Really? I’m trained? That’s awesome.’” An invitation from an Apostle led Courtney to act.
But it wasn’t all ease and excitement. Courtney discovered that records didn’t exist for a lot of her ancestors, many of whom were born in Ireland but then moved to Massachusetts and New York in the United States.
By talking with extended family members—many of whom are not members of the Church—Courtney was able to gather a lot of information. It also brought the extended family members together, Courtney says. “I feel closer to them now than I did before. We’re an Air Force family and move a lot, so it’s hard for us to travel to where they live. We’d kept in touch on Facebook and with cards, but family history has given us another way to connect.”
The biggest surprise Courtney found in working alongside her mom and sister in family history work was how she felt. “It’s a peaceful thing,” she says. “Whenever I thought about the work we were doing, I felt super happy about it. I just felt glad. Our ancestors need the blessings they’ll have with baptism” and other ordinances.
She and her mom also spent time preparing the presentation that Courtney delivered to her peers at youth conference. It included statements from Elder Bednar’s talk and helpful ideas for how to set up an LDS Account (which you need in order to take family names to the temple) and get started in family history work.
Because of a blizzard, youth conference was postponed (Courtney gave her presentation when the event was rescheduled a couple months later), but the inclement weather didn’t keep Courtney from continuing with her new skills. She began preparing the names of the relatives she had identified for their temple work to be done in the Bismarck North Dakota Temple.
Courtney says that the most important thing she’s learned from her experience is that family history is a work everyone can be involved in.
“It isn’t just for older people. And it isn’t just for youth. It’s for everyone. You get blessings from it, including knowing that you can give yourself and your ancestors the chance to be together in heaven.”

In that same countryside, in the little town of Sainte Brigide d’Iberville, about 50 kilometers from Montreal, you’ll see cornfields, barns, and silos. And you’ll also see teenage boys—Latter-day Saints—gathering honey from the blue and white beehives.
Each boy is paid a bucket of honey for a day’s work of gathering and processing the honey. It’s a sticky salary, but they put it to good use. With the help of the other young people in the LeMoyne Ward, they package and sell the honey, then put the money into a fund for their upcoming trip to Washington, D.C.—twelve hours away by car. They are not going to the United States capital for sightseeing or touring. They are going to the temple to do baptismal work for the dead. Montreal is in the temple district of the Washington Temple.
“I’m really looking forward to going to the temple,” says Samuel Maltere, 14, of the LeMoyne Ward. “This way I don’t have to ask my mother and father for money for the temple trip. Working with honey is sticky, and you get dirty doing it, but it’s worth the effort. And after learning how honey gets to our dinner table, I appreciate it a lot more.”
How did the young people get involved with honeycombs and bees?
It started when Bishop Joseph Wilfred Serges Limoges talked to the teenagers in his ward about a temple trip. “Everybody wanted to go,” recalls Bishop Limoges, “but nobody was financially ready.” The ward clerk, who works with beehives, knew a beekeeper, Monsieur Marcotte, who needed help with his hives. When the bishop interviewed the youth, they all agreed they would like to take on the project.
Monsieur Marcotte taught the boys from the ward how to gather the honey and process it. “It’s fun working with the bees,” says Mark Pelchat. “The only thing I don’t like about it is getting stung.”
When the boys take their buckets of honey home, the other young people from the ward help pour the sticky stuff into smaller containers. Then they sell it to friends or to customers outside a health food store owned by a Church member in Montreal.
“We’ve been selling outside the store today for about six hours,” says Phillippe Cazeau, 16. “We feel that if we go to the temple, we need to work for it.”
Going to the temple is an event that the young people really look forward to. “We want to do baptisms for those people who’ve died who haven’t been introduced to the Church,” says Sonya Roy, 15.
They are also taking opportunities to introduce their honey customers to the Church. “We tell the people who walk by our stand that we’re raising money for a trip to our temple. We show them a picture of the temple and tell them what it means to us,” explains Frankie Belot, 17.
With a willingness to work and some new skills, the young people of the LeMoyne Ward are experiencing the sweet rewards of sharing the gospel—with the living and the dead.

Covenant keepers strive to be obedient “at all times … and in all places” because of their love of God and His promised blessings. One evening, while walking with my husband, we passed by an outdoor wedding reception in progress. We didn’t know these people, yet there was an immediate impression of virtue. Their choices of music and dress were lovely. The radiant bride’s gown was unquestionably modest, as were her bridal attendants’ dresses. This family chose not to mix the ways of the world with the sanctity of that day.

Now, may I say a word to the marvelous youth of our Church. Thank you for your righteous examples to your friends, teachers, leaders, and families. I recognize that many of you are the only member of the Church in your family. You may even attend church alone. I commend you for your commitment and righteous example. Be patient and continue to live righteously. There are many who can help you. President Thomas S. Monson said, “Even an exemplary family … can use all the supportive help they can get from good men [and women] who genuinely care.”
Look around in your ward and stake for leaders and friends who are examples of the believers and learn from them.
When I was a young woman, I identified examples of the believers. In addition to my parents, one was my aunt Carma Cutler. I vividly remember her speaking at a stake standards night when I was 16. She taught of the importance of being chaste and worthy of a temple marriage. I was deeply touched by her testimony. I had observed her virtuous life since I was a very young girl, and I knew it was consistent with her teachings. I wanted to follow her example.
Young men and young women, you can start today by being an example of the believers in faith and in purity. Strengthen your faith and testimony daily through scripture study and prayer. Keep your baptismal covenant, which will keep you pure and worthy of the guidance of the Holy Ghost. You can start today to be that example for others to follow.
And you never know—you might be the example my little Ruby will need someday. For now, Ruby has a wonderful start on the path to eternal life. Her parents are setting patterns of righteousness in her home, starting each day with a resolve to be examples of the believers. Hopefully, using her agency, Ruby will choose to follow.
I am grateful for the plan of happiness, and I testify it is the only way that Ruby—and each of us—can be pure again and live forever in the presence of our Father in Heaven. May we each start today. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Now let me tell you about another "agent" by sharing an experience I had some years ago with Brother J. Thomas Fyans, who later became a member of the First Quorum of the Seventy. At the time, Brother Fyans was not a general authority but was serving as an administrative director in the Office of the Presiding Bishop. I was invited to a meeting where the Presiding Bishop, Victor L. Brown, was to speak, but at the last minute he had been called away and had asked Brother Fyans to give the talk in his place.

Bishop Brown and Brother Fyans were both very fine speakers, but they were quite different in their speaking style. At the meeting, Brother Fyans gave a very helpful and inspirational talk. However, it was very different than any other talk I had ever heard him give. As I was visiting with him later, I asked him about it. His reply contained a lesson I have not forgotten.

He told me that he had been there to deliver Bishop Brown's message. As I thought about his reply, I realized that Brother Fyans had taken the bishop's notes and had done his best to deliver the message that the bishop would have delivered in the way he would have delivered it--not just in words, but in spirit. Brother Fyans did not read the talk (as I recall, it was not written out), but he used the knowledge he had of Bishop Brown and his priorities and gave his whole heart to the effort of communicating the content and intent of what he felt the bishop wanted communicated. He had no ego invested. He was not there to "do his own thing." Just as Oliver Granger had acted as an "agent" of the Prophet Joseph over a hundred and fifty years earlier, Elder Fyans acted as an agent of Bishop Brown, as well as the Lord.

It takes a lot of grit, backbone, and just plain courage to accept a job cleaning out raw sewage tanks when the job you applied for was an office position. But if you can pull it off? “Bragging rights!” says Jen F. after she did just that.
Jen was looking for summer employment when she heard about an office job at a nearby RV-rental facility. She applied and was later asked if she would instead be interested in becoming an RV mechanic for the summer. They’d provide the training.
“I didn’t know anything about cars, but I figured I could learn,” Jen says. She accepted.
The work was hard. And greasy. And it came with long hours. “I was dirty all the time,” she says. “I felt gross all the time.” Jen was in charge of cleaning out the sewage systems, checking generators, performing oil changes, inspecting for damage, and completing maintenance and other minor repairs on the rented RVs.
She’d come home exhausted at the end of each day. But what did she gain by the end? “This job taught me a lot about self-reliance,” Jen says. “I know I can learn any skill that I need to. It was empowering.”
She also earned enough money during that single summer to pay for a big trip.

In spite of how hard that experience was, I forgave my friends for what they did. I knew they didn’t understand my standards and my decision to live the Word of Wisdom, so I forgave them and chose not to have any bad feelings toward them. When we finished school, I left on my mission but continued to communicate with Juan and Francisco. I wrote them frequent letters sharing with them the gospel and my testimony of Jesus Christ. I invited them to repent and to attend church. To my great surprise, one of them actually went.
I had frequently invited my friends to Sunday meetings before, but none had accepted until now. Although I couldn’t attend with Juan, my brothers and my father were there to help him and fellowship him. My family accepted him, and Juan felt very comfortable at church. He started changing little by little until he made the decision to get baptized. I was thrilled for him and even more thrilled when he told me he had learned to love Jesus Christ because of my letters. When I came home from my mission, I also stayed close with Francisco, and after some time, he and his wife also got baptized. Today, Juan and Francisco are still two of my closest friends.

I remember visiting a friend in southern India. We had first come to know him twelve years previously when we went there in response to his request that someone come to baptize him. Ten years prior to that request he had found a missionary tract of the Church, but how or by whom it had come into that part of the world he did not know. He wrote to the Church offices in Salt Lake City. Other Church literature was sent to him which he read.

We did not baptize him when first we met him; he was not ready. But we arranged for him to be taught the gospel and he was baptized some months later.

This man worked as an accountant in a cement plant. His salary was meager. His house was small, but his heart was large and overflowing. Out of a great love for others that came from his understanding of the gospel of Jesus Christ, he built a school with his own hands on a piece of ground he bought from his savings. It was a simple rough building; but studying there were some four hundred poor children, each being brought out of the darkness of illiteracy into the light of learning. What this act of love has meant and will mean in their lives is beyond calculation.

Through this one man’s efforts, there were established five small branches of the Church in the rural villages of southern India. The members constructed three or four little buildings, neat and clean. Over the door of each was a sign, in both English and Tamil, that read, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” The floors were of concrete and without benches where the people sat together as we met, shared our testimonies, and partook of the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper.

There are now a little over two hundred members of the Church among the vast millions of India. Some day, someone will write the story of the Church in India. That story will be incomplete unless there is a chapter on my friend who lost himself in the service of others.

Last Sunday I decided that I wanted to try to fast for the first time. My dad is a pilot in the Air Force, and he had been gone for two months flying over Afghanistan and Iraq. I really miss my dad when he is gone for so long. He was finally scheduled to start his trip home, but his connections for the military flights were not working out, so he was going to be a week late coming home. I told my mom that I was going to fast for my dad so he would be safe and be able to come home on time—something my dad said was impossible.
It was really hard to fast, but I knew I was doing it for a good reason, and that made it easier. We were so excited to get the news that my dad made the connection he thought would be impossible to make. He was able to come home on time, and he was safe—just what I had fasted and prayed for.Hunter Johnson, age 7 Penn Valley, California

Many years ago when at the age of twelve I was ordained a deacon, my father, who was president of our stake, took me to my first priesthood meeting. In those days these meetings were held on a week night. I recall that we went to the Tenth Ward building in Salt Lake City, Utah. He walked up to the stand, and I sat on the back row, feeling a little alone and uncomfortable in that hall filled with strong men who had been ordained to the priesthood of God. The meeting was called to order, the opening hymn was announced, and—as was then the custom—we all stood to sing. There were perhaps as many as four hundred there. Together these men lifted their strong voices, some with the accents of the European lands from which they had come as converts, all singing these words with a great spirit of conviction and testimony:
Praise to the man who communed with Jehovah!
Jesus anointed that Prophet and Seer.
Blessed to open the last dispensation,
Kings shall extol him, and nations revere.
(Hymns, No. 147.)
They were singing of the Prophet Joseph Smith, and as they did so there came into my heart a great surge of love for and belief in the mighty Prophet of this dispensation. In my childhood I had been taught much of him in meetings and classes in our ward as well as in our home; but my experience in that stake priesthood meeting was different. I knew then, by the power of the Holy Ghost, that Joseph Smith was indeed a prophet of God.
It is true that during the years which followed there were times when that testimony wavered somewhat, particularly in the years of my undergraduate university work. However, that conviction never left me entirely; and it has grown stronger through the years, partly because of the challenges of those days which compelled me to read and study and make certain for myself. I think that many of you have gone through similar experiences. President Harold B. Lee once said that our testimonies need renewing every day. In harmony with that principle, I would desire to strengthen our testimonies of the great work that the God of heaven has permitted to transpire in these last days.