Gospel Story Finder

One of my new friends, Rick, was a member of the Church too. The night before he left on his mission, I told him I was feeling frustrated. I couldn’t go into the military, I didn’t want to go to college, and I didn’t know what to do. He looked right at me and said, “You should go on a mission like me.”
That statement hit me like a ton of bricks. I said, “All right, I’ll go on a mission.”
He laughed and said, “Well, you have to be a member of the Church first.”
I met with the missionaries with Spencer’s family after Rick left for his mission. Six weeks later, Spencer baptized me. I was almost 19 years old.

On another occasion, I met a young man 14 years of age who was a superb tennis player. He had won all of the tennis tournaments in his class in an area that included several states. He had reached the semifinals of a very important tournament that was to take place in a distant city. As he arrived there, he found that he was scheduled to participate on Sunday. He went to the officials and told them he didn’t play tennis on Sunday; whereupon he was informed that if he wanted to play in this tournament, he would play on Sunday. He again indicated he would not play on Sunday, knowing that not to do so would mean he would forfeit the match. As it happened, the matches were rained out on Sunday. He played on Monday and won.

He then went by bus with the other finalists to another major city to compete in the championship matches that covered the entire Atlantic seaboard of the United States. They arrived on Sunday. The coach instructed the contestants to get out on the tennis courts and practice immediately upon arrival. This young man did not go to the tennis courts. The coach asked him why he wasn’t practicing. He said, “I don’t play tennis on Sunday.” The coach asked him why. His response was, “I am a Mormon.”

I suppose he wanted to win the championship for his age group more than anything else, and yet he himself had made the decision that keeping the Sabbath day holy was more important than being a champion in tennis. You see, he had found himself and had the courage and integrity to live his life according to the principles he had been taught, and he had made his decision regardless of social pressures.

Within my first few days of arriving in the Dominican Republic, my companions brought me to visit a man by the name of Amado. During that visit, we talked about the plan of salvation and the opportunity he will have to see his wife again, who had passed away. The Spirit was strong during that conversation. His daughter and a few of his grandchildren were there, testifying of the joy they had felt through living the gospel. They testified of temples and the ability to be with our loved ones after this life, through the sacred ordinances of the temple.
During the following months, we returned to visit Amado weekly. We talked about the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ, and that this gospel has the power of God so that we can take the necessary steps and make promises that will help us return to live with God. We taught him about the priesthood, the power of God here on earth. We explained that God loves us so much, that He gave us another testament of His Son, Jesus Christ: The Book of Mormon. Little by little we taught him about the truths of Christ and His doctrine.
He questioned why we believe this Church is the only true Church on the earth. We invited him to come to church with us to experience it for himself. He enjoyed it but missed the comfort of his usual church. We invited him to pray and sincerely talk with God to ask Him which church is His. Amado prayed and received an answer in a way that he could not doubt that Jesus Christ had restored His Church on earth again. He continued attending church with us. We invited him to enter the waters of baptism and make a covenant with God through the proper authority. When we invited him to be baptized, he asked us if he would be able to see his wife again if he were to get baptized in a different church other than where the two were married. We testified of the perfect love of God and His plan that makes it possible for everyone that has passed on to be able to accept the gospel of Jesus Christ, and that being baptized is our responsibility. We have the opportunity to be baptized in the name of and for our ancestors, so that those people who no longer have their bodies can still enter into the kingdom of God.
Amado wanted this. He was baptized by his grandson, and it was a very special day. Everyone who attended the baptism felt the Holy Ghost testify that the step he took that day was correct and was ordained of God. In the following visits, Amado testified to us that he knows that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is God’s church, and that he knew we were called by God to help him understand this. He had told many previous missionaries to go and preach to the people who didn’t know God, because he already knew God and didn’t need the missionaries. I learned even more that God places us where He needs us and that we can be instruments in His hands through our obedience and the love we have for Him and His children.

Like each of you, I have had to use faith and be a pioneer in my life. My first real experience happened when I was in the second grade. My teacher came to our class and told us how a “special” girl would soon join us. I remember imagining the girl to see what she would be like.
The first day Jenny walked in, I knew I would love her. The fact that she was handicapped urged me to learn more about her. I had never really been around children with disabilities. Although I had many anxieties, I knew I needed to be her friend. I was faced with the unknown; I accepted the challenge.
I decided to go to Jenny’s house after school one day. I remember being a little nervous but felt it was the right thing to do. Her mom was very nice and helped me get to know more about Jenny.
Soon I found myself always with Jenny. She became one of my very best friends. We loved to go to the store, play on her trampoline, and have sleep overs. I made up for Jenny’s physical handicaps, and she made up for my spiritual handicaps. Jenny is a wonderful example of Christlike love and forgiveness. I truly believe we helped each other overcome both of our handicaps.

“Of all the 15-year-old girls in the world, why me?” I asked myself. I always knew that having to move away from the place where you grew up would be tough, but I didn’t really understand just how tough until it became a reality for me.
The first week at my new school was terrible. I didn’t know anyone and soon found out that I was the only Mormon among the 2,500 other teenagers there. I had always loved basketball, but when practice began I could feel myself giving up. Being a freshman didn’t help matters any. And, if all of that wasn’t enough, we moved into a community where 90 percent of the people spoke Spanish. In seminary this didn’t help at all! Although the lessons were taught in English, the class discussions were in Spanish, and I had a hard time understanding.
After the first month I was ready to give up. I wouldn’t go to seminary and didn’t care about my grades, about making friends, about my family, or about myself.
One night after an extremely long day, I had the feeling that I should read my next scripture assignment for seminary. I don’t know why I began to read. I hadn’t been going to seminary, I was way behind, and I didn’t really care. However, one of the scriptures I read that night affected me in a way I will never forget.
“Be patient in afflictions, for thou shalt have many; but endure them, for, lo, I am with thee, even unto the end of thy days” (D&C 24:8).
I felt guilty for the doubts I had been having about Heavenly Father’s love for me. Now, rather than letting the problems of life affect the steps that will lead me nearer to the Lord, I am trying to base my life around this scripture. My life seems much easier when I look at my blessings instead of my problems.
When we take the time to look beyond our immediate problems and listen to the Spirit’s promptings, we discover that our Heavenly Father is there protecting, guiding, and helping us every hour and every minute of every day.
I have to go to a new school.
I have the opportunity to make a whole new set of friends and learn new things from them.
I’m the only Mormon in a student body of 2,500.
This way I’ll have lots of opportunities to share the gospel.
I’m only a freshman and can’t do very well on the basketball team.
But workouts are a great way to stay in shape, and they’ll help prepare me fornext year.
Most people speak Spanish here, and I don’t understand them.
Great! I always wanted to learn a foreign language. Here’s my chance.

A special experience for me was meeting with my sisters. One of them, Ilona Kebrt, and her daughter, Olga, went with me to church. Olga was very impressed with the appearance and behavior of the full-time missionaries. “I have never seen boys my age act and look like this,” she said. “They look as though they came from a different world.”
Since my visit, I have learned that the gospel seeds I planted have started to bear fruit. My niece, Olga, has been baptized, and she is now living with a family in London, England. She wrote to me: “When you visited with us, I heard you share your testimony of the gospel, and although I didn’t completely understand what you meant, I wanted to know more. Now, as a member of the Church, I know. I feel as though I have grown in wisdom beyond my years. Life makes sense to me, and for the first time I know what to do.”

When I was about three or four years old, my mother was the ward Relief Society president. Part of her responsibility, it seemed, was always to have a quilt in progress in our home. At any given time, sisters would filter in and out of our basement to quilt for a while. Often my mother would thread a needle for me and let me “quilt” with the sisters. (My clumsy stitches were patiently removed when I was not around.) I relished these moments and learned at a young age to love quilting and Relief Society.
My mother died suddenly when I was only five. It wasn’t until years later that I found out she had left me a great gift of love. The Christmas of my 19th year is one I will always remember, for that was when I received this most precious gift from my mother, although she had passed away 14 years earlier.
I hadn’t known it, but before my mother died she had pieced together two special quilt tops, one for my older brother and one for me. She had used little pieces of fabric from our dresses and shirts. But she had passed away before she could put the quilts together and do the quilting.
When I turned 19, my older sister felt it was time to complete the quilts for my brother and me, and she asked the ward Relief Society to finish them. The sisters sewed the intricate stitches without knowing how much it would have pleased my mother.
On Christmas Day when I received the quilt, I loved the gift with all my heart. But I had no idea how much more it would yet come to mean to me.
Years went by, and I married and started a family of my own. I kept my quilt wrapped in a plastic bag in a drawer to protect it from damage and wear. One day I took it out and was carefully admiring it when one of my little boys came into the room and asked me where I got the quilt. I explained to him that his Grandma Brown had made the quilt for me before she died.
“Who is Grandma Brown?” my young son asked.
How it pained me that my children had never known the mother I cherished. It hurt that she could not put her arms around them and tell them she loved them in her tender, gentle way. I explained to my son once again that Grandma Brown, my mother, was someone special in heaven who loved him.
“Why do you have that quilt, Mommy?” he asked.
Suddenly it came to me. I knew exactly why I had the quilt. I unfolded it and wrapped it around his little body. “I have this quilt so Grandma Brown can give you hugs even though she is in heaven,” I said.
A big smile spread across his face, and I could see that this was the best answer I could have given him.
Since then the quilt has made its way out of the drawer much more often. Whenever a family member is hurt, sad, or in need of extra love, the quilt is a great source of comfort. I love touching the quilt, knowing my mother’s hands have touched it also.
Many years have passed, and I can now quilt correctly. My sisters and I have spent many hours around quilting frames, talking about our mother. Since I am the youngest, my sisters tell me stories about her to help me know her better. Yet no matter how many stories I hear, nothing has helped me or my children turn our hearts to my mother more than the quilt I got for Christmas the year I turned 19.

When I was a full-time missionary, I learned the importance of a sincere fast. A family we had been teaching was nearing baptism—all except the oldest daughter. As the oldest child, she was a spiritual leader for the rest of the family. But something was holding her back from joining the Church.
On a regular fast Sunday, my companion and I, along with her family, fasted for her. Then after sacrament meeting, we visited with the family briefly. As my companion was talking with the girl and her mother, I had one of those spiritual surprises that brighten the landscape of our lives. The Spirit made manifest to me what was holding her back from being baptized: She had a boyfriend in her own church who had experienced several spiritual manifestations, and she was concerned that she might be forsaking something very good. Then, through the Spirit, I perceived that the Lord knew her personally, understood her concern, and had great blessings ready to be poured out upon her.
In my excitement, I interrupted my companion and said, “I know what the problem is!” Both the mother and the daughter were startled and then tearful as I explained what the Holy Ghost had just made known to me. Then I bore testimony that I knew greater blessings would come to her than she ever dreamed possible if she would accept the gospel. We had a prayer and left for our next appointment.
Her tears worried me. I thought I might have offended her. But the next evening, when we returned with our zone leaders to interview the family for baptism, she asked, “May I be interviewed, too?”
“Yes,” I gasped. “But tell me what has happened.” She told me that I had been correct and that the Spirit had borne witness to her of the promises I had made to her. She was baptized along with her family. What great blessings had come to all of us as a result of that day of sincere fasting!

Ty woke up late and shoved on his glasses. He knelt for a quick prayer and then ran to feed his family’s huge poodle, Fifi. But Fifi had jumped the fence. Again. It took so long to find Fifi, Ty barely had time to feed himself. He grabbed a piece of toast as he ran out the door.
“Bye, Dad,” he shouted.
“Make good choices!” Dad called back, just like every morning.
Good choices. Ty thought about the biggest choice he had to face at school: what to do about Bobby Miller. Bobby was the biggest, meanest kid in the whole third grade.
Ty zipped down the street on his green bike. He’d have to hurry to get to school before Bobby. His legs pumped, the wind rushed into his face, and finally he saw the school up ahead.
Oh no! Bobby was already at the bike rack. Don’t turn around, Bobby! Ty thought. Just keep walking right to your class. But no such luck. Bobby finished locking up his bike just as Ty skidded to a stop in front of him.
“Looks like I beat you again, Ty-Ty,” Bobby said. He kicked Ty’s bike over, just because. Ty landed on the ground in a tangle of arms and legs and bike wheels, and Bobby ran off laughing.
How can I ever stop him from doing that? Ty thought. He got up off the ground and locked up his bike.
The rest of the morning went OK. Ty was just grateful Bobby wasn’t in his class this year.
When the recess bell rang, Ty ran out to play kickball. But as he ran toward his friends in the field, he didn’t see a game going on. As he got closer, he could see why. Bobby had stolen the ball and was running around the field throwing it at people. “Strike!” he yelled as he knocked Emma over. Then he threw the ball and knocked off Bryce’s glasses. Bobby just laughed and held them high over Bryce’s head. “Try to get ’em, shortie. I dare you.”
For a second, Ty hesitated. He definitely didn’t want Bobby to notice him. But Bryce needed help. Ty took a deep breath. He marched over and grabbed the ball where it had rolled. “Give his glasses back, Bobby.” He tried to look fierce.
Bobby just laughed. “Oh, Ty-Ty! I’m so scared.”
“You’re ruining everyone’s recess. Please stop.”
“Whatever, Ty-Ty.” Bobby tossed the glasses and stomped off.
Ty let out a big breath. “OK, everyone! Let’s play some kickball.” He hoped he didn’t see Bobby again today. Fingers crossed, he thought.
But when school got out, there was Bobby at the bike rack again. He grabbed Ty’s bike handle before he could walk away. “I dare you to fight me,” he said.
Ty shook his head and pulled his bike out of Bobby’s grip. The kids around them were all turning to stare.
“You thought you were so tough at recess, but who’s a chicken now?” Bobby taunted.
Someone laughed, and Ty felt his cheeks get warm. After everything that had happened today, maybe it would be OK to take Bobby’s dare and fight him. Somebody needed to teach Bobby a lesson! Besides, what if everyone thought he was a chicken?
Then Ty had another thought. Taking Bobby’s dare wouldn’t make me tough. It would just be a really bad choice.
“Chicken!” Bobby grabbed Ty’s shoulder as he walked away. “Come on and fight me. I double-dare you!”
Go to “Family Night Fun” for an activity to go with this story and to learn what to do if you’re being bullied.
Ty had already made his choice. He turned around. “You know what, Bobby? I’d rather be a chicken than take your dare.” Bobby just stared while Ty got on his bike and rode off.
And you know what? He didn’t feel like a chicken at all.

While sailors rigged a jury mast to replace the broken foremast, passengers crowded onto the deck. Saints and nonmembers joined together in prayers of thanksgiving. The passengers put on clean clothes, and for the first time since leaving Liverpool, newly shaved faces appeared. A delegation of Saints obtained Captain Wilson’s permission to hold Sabbath religious services.
That day, March 23, after sermons and hymns, a baptismal service was conducted. During the three-week voyage a number of non-LDS passengers had been converted and wanted to be baptized. The captain gave approval for a large water barrel to be brought out on deck, the top removed, and short ladders placed beside and inside it. The barrel was filled waist deep with sea water. Twenty-one persons, male and female, were then baptized. The next day the converts were confirmed, the sacrament administered, and the sick anointed.

While I was serving as a mission president in Toronto, Canada, one of my assistants approached me and said, “President, how can I be a better missionary?” My first response was, “You are doing great.” And in truth, he was. But he persisted in his question, so I thought for a moment and then offered a suggestion. With a smile, he responded positively.
I shared this simple experience with our other missionaries. Soon other elders and sisters came to their interviews and asked, “President, how can I be a better missionary?” That simple question from one missionary caused a spirit of improvement throughout our entire mission.

Daniela Moreira, a Primary president from Mendoza, Argentina, said that children in her ward worked toward understanding the purpose of the temple. To meet this goal, they visited the construction of the Mendoza Argentina Temple. They also learned how families can be sealed in the temple and later made temple models.

“The activities of the spiritual aspect are those that leave the greatest mark on the little ones,” Daniela said. “They learn to recognize and feel the constant companionship of the Holy Spirit and become familiar with the feeling.”

She was sure it was late fall of 1993. At least that’s what Amy Westerby thought when she left Provo one morning to travel to Antelope Island located in the middle of the Great Salt Lake in Utah. Somewhere along the way, she seemed to go back in time 600 years before Christ.
Amy had been selected to play the character Susan in the new seminary videos where truths from the Book of Mormon are played out in modern scenarios. This day she was there to participate in the opening shots of the video called I Will Prepare the Way, where her character walks along a long, white sand beach. She was also going to get the chance to see Nephi’s boat being built.
According to Amy it was amazing to see a huge wooden boat being constructed before her eyes. And the men playing Nephi and his brothers were so realistically dressed. It felt a little like a time machine. “It was great just to be there,” said Amy, “and watch the whole thing happen.”

In England, teenaged John Taylor was walking with a friend when he felt the impression that he needed to go to America.
John: I feel a strong impression to go to America to preach the gospel.
However, John had to wait. His family left for America and left him to sell their land and other possessions.
Father: John, we need you to stay back and sell the land. Then come as soon as you can.
John: All right, Father. I will do my best.
Two years after his family left, he had sold their land and taken care of other family affairs. He was soon sailing to America.
John: I’m finally on my way to America!
During the trip, a terrible storm arose and lasted for a week. Others thought that the ship would sink, but John was calm. He knew that Heavenly Father had work for him to do in America and would keep him safe.
Man: This is the worst storm I’ve ever seen!
John: The Lord hasn’t brought me this far to let me die in the middle of the ocean.
After arriving in the United States, John went to Toronto, Canada, to find his family. He set up a carpenter shop and continued going to church.
John: Hello, everyone!
Family: John! You’ve come at last!
After his conversion to the Church in Canada, John Taylor returned to England to serve a mission. He also served in Ireland, France, and the British Isles.

President Hinckley has enjoyed marvelous support from his family, none of whom take themselves too seriously—a trait fostered by both father and mother, who have stayed remarkably unaffected by years in the spotlight. Sister Hinckley has filled long absences away from children and grandchildren with letters postmarked from around the world. Virginia says, “The way we came to appreciate Dad’s callings was through Mother, because she made it a shared experience and told us every detail. When they went to the Seoul Korea Temple dedication and told us about the beautiful women in their Korean dresses who lined the halls as they came out of the dedication, we could picture what they’d seen. Dad, on the other hand, said, ‘Dresses? What dresses?’”

Yet while letters filled some gaps, Sister Hinckley longed to share more with their family. When President Hinckley asked her how she would like to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary, she responded immediately, “I would like to walk the streets of Hong Kong with my children.” The request seemed far-fetched, but their children determined to save the money such a trip would require. Says Kathy, “I had heard Mother describe the streets of Hong Kong in such detail that when I stepped out into them I felt like I had come home. To finally be in Hong Kong was like stepping into Mother and Dad’s other world.”

Virginia says, “Because we were so certain about what Mother and Dad stood for, none of us had to worry about impressing others or appearing to be more than we are. That is just not Dad’s style. He refuses to take himself too seriously on things that don’t matter—simply because he is so sure of the things that do matter.”

When I was a Mia Maid, I noticed a less-active girl in the same class as I was. I sometimes saw her at school in the hallways, at Mutual activities, church, and even at girls’ camp. It seemed no matter how often I would see her, she looked unhappy. I knelt down one night and prayed for the strength to somehow help her.
The next day, I told myself I would greet her with a friendly “Hello!” But something inside held me back. So I passed her by and said nothing. As the days stretched on, the desire to help her increased. I knew I had to say something to her, and I wanted to do it soon.
I prayed several times in the early morning to gain the courage I needed. As I saw her walking down the hallway one day, I knew I had to act fast! I was afraid if I didn’t say something now, I would not be able to later. With a turn of my head, I faced her and said, “Hi!”
The instant results surprised me. Her face immediately lit up like a candle. I decided that from then on, I would make an honest effort to say kind words to her. Months went by, and I found she became one of my best friends.
I know that Heavenly Father was sending me a message the day I got the courage to go up and say “Hi!” We need to reach out to others and forget ourselves. We can pause for a moment to offer a kind word. We can ask, “How can I help someone smile today?” Heavenly Father will help. Don’t be afraid to ask. He will guide you and direct you in the path you should go.

It was the spring of 1864, and the fruit trees and fields were promising an abundant yield to the Navajos living in the Canyon de Chelly. Bright Morning was herding her mother’s sheep on the mesa above their village when a sudden change came into her life.
The story Bright Morning tells of the Spanish slavers, the army soldiers, Indian family life, and her friendship with Tall Boy, who is strong and proud, makes fascinating reading. Many changes come to Bright Morning and her people. Many spirits are broken. Bright Morning is one of the few who possess an inner strength based on hope. She will survive.
Scott O’Dell won the coveted Newbery Award in 1961 for Island of the Blue Dolphins. His Sing Down the Moon was the runner-up for the Newbery Award in 1971.

For some time, my former college roommates had been trying to get everyone together for a reunion. I kept telling them I was too busy. I had seven children and a husband deployed in Afghanistan.
The reunion was rescheduled several times until, in November 2018, my mom and mother-in-law convinced me to go and said they would watch the children. My former roommates and I rented a condo, ate snacks, stayed up late, and had a great time visiting.
The next morning, my mom called and said two army officers had come to my home and needed to talk to me face-to-face. I tried not to panic. Later that day, I met the officers at the same National Guard headquarters where my husband, Brent, had enlisted when we were a newly engaged couple. That’s where the officers told me he had been killed.
In that moment, I knew that every detail of my life had changed. I immediately felt lost and anxious about the future. The world felt like a foreign place, especially during the first few hours after I heard the news. I had no idea what to do. For 15 years, my whole world was being Brent’s wife. Now that world had been stripped away.
I met Brent during a blind date while we attended Brigham Young University. From the beginning of our relationship, we talked a lot about our shared patriotism. He enlisted in June 2003, three days after proposing to me.
Three months after we were married on September 18, 2003, Brent left for basic training. Once he returned the following November, we started having children. By the time we were expecting our second baby, he was preparing for his first deployment. He did two consecutive tours from 2007 to 2008 in Iraq.
In 2009, Brent got involved in politics. He ran for the city council in North Ogden, Utah, and won. Halfway through that four-year council seat, he was again deployed to Afghanistan for a year.
After Brent returned, he ran for, and was elected, mayor. As he was running for reelection four years later, we learned that he was being deployed yet again. At the time, I was pregnant with our seventh child. Despite the difficulty of leaving his family and office behind, Brent answered the call. He left in January 2018 for another yearlong deployment.
The day after I learned that Brent had been killed, one of my former bishops gave me a blessing that changed my perspective. In his blessing, he said that my purpose as a wife, mother, and daughter of God had not changed. Then he promised that Brent’s purpose as my husband and our children’s father had not changed either.
After the blessing, I remember chanting in my mind: “My purpose has not changed. My purpose has not changed.”
The next morning, as I repeated those words to myself, a phrase came into my mind: “Only the details have changed.” And as I tried to accept the fact that the details of my life had changed from what I thought they would be, another impression came: “God is in the details.”
The Lord was giving me line-upon-line revelation. When He does this, it’s not because He is keeping secrets from us. It’s because He is going at our pace.
In the months after Brent died, I was anxious about what would come next. But I knew that I could take one step forward at a time and that I could trust that the Lord would give me one line of revelation at a time. It might not be the line I thought He was going to give me, so I had to keep making a conscious choice to trust Him with the details of my life.
While on my mission, I served in a ward that needed a bishop. Stake leaders were looking for someone who held the Melchizedek Priesthood, paid his tithing, and had a supportive wife. Leaders considered one worthy priesthood holder, but his wife did not say yes to the calling.
Because of that experience, I promised the Lord that I would never get in the way of what He needed my future husband to do. I promised to always support him in his calling. I’m grateful I didn’t know the future. I don’t know what I would have done if––when I was making that promise––the Lord had said, “That’s a great promise to make because I need your husband to die for his country.”
I thought I was going to be a bishop’s wife. Instead, I became the wife of a worthy priesthood holder who answered the call to serve and sacrifice in a way I had not imagined.
The Lord has made it clear that the priesthood power of my temple sealing to Brent is still available to me. I have felt the power of our marriage covenant sustain me physically. I miss him so much, but I know that with him on the other side of the veil, I can move forward.
Brent is still supporting me. I feel that I’ve inherited many of his strengths. I’m no longer just me, and I’m certainly not him. Rather, I feel that I am both of us. To me, this is a testament of our marriage covenant.
When the world feels in chaos, we have to remember that our covenants are our constant.
I have learned from this experience that there is a beautiful power in letting people help us. It can be a humbling experience, but it blesses both those serving and those being served. We need to let others help us.
“When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God,” King Benjamin taught (Mosiah 2:17). This scripture is also true in reverse. When you are served by your fellow beings, you are being served by the Lord.
Sometimes we worry too much about what we can do or say to help someone. After Brent died, people who just showed up were the most helpful. They weren’t pushy, they paid attention, and they saw a need.
If you feel prompted to serve, don’t overthink it. Show up. Drop off a quick note. Don’t worry that your efforts aren’t perfect. Help anyway. Even if you say or do the wrong thing, those you serve will know that you meant, “I love you.”
We can all do better at letting people serve us imperfectly.
Faith starts as a choice. Sometimes we might not see or feel the Lord in difficult times. In those moments when I don’t feel Him, I make a conscious choice. I choose to trust Him. I choose to be happy. I choose to let people help. I choose to ask for help. I choose to let the peace of the gospel guide me. It’s hard, but we have to make these choices. The Lord encourages us to make them, but He never forces us to.
It’s difficult to say that this tragedy has been a blessing. I hate being blessed by tragedy, but I have been. We might say we want the blessings and no trials, but that’s not how mortality works. “For after much tribulation come the blessings” (Doctrine and Covenants 58:4). For me, the Lord has taken this horrible tragedy and turned it into something beautiful.
I had less time with Brent than I thought I would have, but I know that the Lord is not going to shortchange us eternally in any way. I don’t know how, because I don’t have His knowledge and wisdom, but I know that His promises are sure.

Let us cite only a few of the numerous cases that have come to my personal attention recently. A few months ago a mother of five children came to my office. She wept bitterly as she told me that her husband had spent most of his time during the past year with another man’s wife. She explained that on a number of occasions she followed him in her car to the other woman’s place. Naturally, the sinful husband was miserable, the wife was very sorrowful, and the children were brokenhearted. “… wickedness never was happiness.” (Alma 41:10.)

We are the parents of six rambunctious boys. Over the past 17 years, we have learned that the Spirit often uses our own experience as parents to teach us how Heavenly Father works with His children.
Several years ago, Jessica heard our boys playing upstairs. As she listened more closely, she heard the distinct sound of a writing utensil scribbling on a wall.
She called, “Boys … is someone coloring on the wall?”
After three seconds of silence, the culprit called back, “Nooooooo.” She then asked him to bring down the writing utensil.
“OK, Mama,” he said, skipping up to her and willingly, even happily, giving her a pencil.
He kept his other hand, which was holding a permanent marker and was in plain view to Jess, hidden behind his back.
After sitting with this little boy, listening to him, correcting him, and trying to help him, she had this clear impression:
“Why do I sometimes try to hide my own sins and shortcoming from an omniscient, loving Heavenly Father?”