Gospel Story Finder

I was helping my four-year-old daughter, Emma, evaluate her clothing to see what we still needed to buy for school. She looked at the clothes spread all over the floor (most of them hand-me-downs) and said, “Oh, Mom! I have so many clothes. I am so lucky! Maybe we should give some of them to [Humanitarian Services] so the little child we saw in the Ensign* can have some, too!”
My heart was touched because she was not complaining about hand-me-downs. Instead, she saw that others had less and wanted to help. Emma is an example of the gratitude we all should have for the blessings our Savior has given us. He blesses us, and we should bless others.

I’m 18 years old and waiting in the Carson City (Nevada) Jail to go to court. I’m being tried for three counts of possession of marijuana. My parents came to visit me in jail, and I asked them to bring me some comic books to read. The next day I received a few books and the July issue of the New Era. I quickly put it under my mattress. The next day I went to court. The judge said I would probably get anywhere up to five years in the state prison. I came back very depressed. I picked up your magazine and began reading. I became interested in your articles. They made me feel relaxed and comfortable, a feeling I’ve never felt before. Keep on publishing—you never know what you might accomplish.
Feeling Better in Carson JailCarson City, Nevada

“I was born and grew up in the community of Tooele, Utah, where my father managed a newspaper. As a youth, I worked at the newspaper office and also helped take care of the family cows. My brother, Joel, and I had the responsibility of not only taking care of our cows but, during the summer, also gathering our neighbor’s cows and taking them to the fields on the edge of town to graze on the grass. This is how I made my first money. Later, my brother and I worked on a eight-hectare farm on the edge of town which the family owned. We were teenagers and my father wanted to keep us busy.
“One day a neighbor came to Father carrying a list of things we were doing wrong on the farm. After the neighbor finished reading the list aloud, Father sat back in his chair, looked at him, and said, ‘Well, Jim, you don’t understand. I’m raising boys and not cows.’”

As I pondered this question, I immediately reflected upon an experience from my youth. This is a story I related to Elder Robert D. Hales shortly after my call to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and which he included in a Church magazine article he wrote about my life.1 Some of you may have heard this story, but many may not have.
When I was about 11 years old, my father and I went hiking on a hot summer day in the mountains near our home. As Dad hiked up the steep trail, I jumped from one large rock to another along the sides of the trail. Intending to climb one of the large rocks, I began to clamber to the top of it. As I did so, I was surprised when my dad grabbed me by my belt and quickly pulled me down, saying, “Don’t climb on that rock. Let’s just keep on the trail.”
Minutes later, as we looked down from higher up the trail, we were stunned as we saw a big rattlesnake basking in the sun on top of the very rock I had intended to climb.
Later, as we were driving home, I knew Dad was waiting for me to ask, “How did you know the snake was there?” So I asked, and my question led to a discussion about the Holy Ghost and how the Holy Ghost can help us. I have never forgotten what I learned that day.
Can you see how the Holy Ghost helped me? I am forever grateful that my father listened to the still, small voice of the Holy Ghost, as it may have saved my life.

After they interviewed and baptised six people at the first branch, Elder Toa and Elder Nalin headed to Saetsiwi, an isolated area tucked high in the mountains. They had no way to contact the Saetsiwi Branch president but knew he was expecting them at some point, so the missionaries drove their truck as far as they could then continue on foot for the remaining 3-hour trek. When they finally arrived, the branch president was nowhere to be found. The elders had hiked all that way in vain.
Then the big rain fell. Everyone in Saetsiwi knows that when it starts to rain hard, getting off the mountain is treacherous. Elder Toa and Elder Nalin rushed back to their truck, knowing every second counted before the local rivers swelled and became impassable. They made it to the truck in time to drive through the first and second rivers, but they knew the third river would be a challenge.
Sure enough, their truck got stuck partway. They tried to push it—no luck. They called the district president, and soon help arrived, but the truck still wouldn’t move. The river rose and flowed so swiftly that the helpers had to get out and move to safety. Then, Elder Nalin spotted something else that worried him. He saw that the waters in next river over—which converged with this river—had become torrential and threatened to break through.
In his mind, it seemed to Elder Nalin that an invisible force was holding that third river back, as though buying time for them—but he knew it wouldn’t be for long. The torrent was racing.
Elder Toa and Elder Nalin are examples of the finest possible young men from Vanuatu—responsible and excellent in every way. To them, a truck is of almost incomprehensible expense, especially in a country where families can barely afford to educate their children, much less buy a vehicle. The elders were determined to preserve the Church’s truck at all costs, but now the water was up to its door handles. They called their mission president and asked, “What should we do?”
President Messick’s response was: “Thank you for calling. Now get out of the truck and save yourselves. I don’t care about the truck; I care about you.”
As they rushed out of the truck, Elder Toa climbed into the back seat to grab their scriptures and the 114 interview papers they needed for the baptisms. He couldn’t see them anywhere. Then a voice yelled, “The water is coming! Get out of the truck!” and Elder Toa slipped out of the back door just as the truck was swept downstream.
As soon as the elders realised that their scriptures and the 114 interview papers were still in the truck—which was now well out of sight—they used the power of the priesthood and commanded the truck to protect their precious documents. “That’s what you can do with the priesthood,” the young men said later, with absolute confidence. “You can command.”
Elder Toa and Elder Nalin managed to pull themselves out to safety, and there by the side of the river, they knelt and prayed. As they prayed that the truck would be safe and that their scriptures and interview papers would stay dry, the missionaries felt a peaceful assurance that all would be fine. Then they walked the rest of the way off the mountain.
The next day, the elders received a call from the district president. Saetsiwi’s branch president had found their truck, 250 meters downstream. When the Elders arrived to retrieve it, they discovered not a dent or a scratch on the body of the vehicle, despite its journey in the river, past trees, rocks, and debris.
The inside of the truck wasn’t so fortunate. It was drenched. The engine suffered electrical damage, and everything in the cab—pamphlets, manuals, books—was soaked beyond repair, except for the Elders’ scriptures and the 114 interview papers. These sat in plain sight above everything else, completely dry.
While the truck was being repaired, Elder Toa and Elder Nalin resumed their tour on foot. At their next stop, they interviewed and baptised 48 candidates before continuing right across Tanna Island. “When you get tired of walking,” one of them told a fellow missionary, “You walk with your heart.”
Their hearts and a priesthood miracle helped these faithful elders reach and bring all 114 candidates safely into the Church of Jesus Christ.

When Brother Newry returned to the Bahamas, he found a very small branch that had been formed while he was gone. The little branch met in homes and rented buildings until they built their own chapel. He remained faithful through the years and eventually received his endowment in the temple. Along the way his friend, Antoinette Russell, asked to attend church with him. She was impressed by the members’ warmth, and without telling Clarence, she began meeting with the missionaries. She says: “I knew we were each someone special. When the missionaries told me where we had come from, I knew it was true. I felt peace.”
Antoinette and Clarence Newry were married in March 1997 in the Orlando Florida Temple. Several other Bahamian couples have had their marriages sealed in the temple, but the Newrys were the first to be married in the temple.

Diana Borges (above in red) is the only Latter-day Saint in the private all-girls school she attends in her home town of Curitiba, Brazil. Being the only member at school can be a bit tough sometimes. But Diana has a secret weapon to keep her testimony strong and her spirits up: daily seminary attendance.
“Being together with my friends at seminary every day keeps me going,” she says. The other students in her seminary class (also above) agree. Since they all go to different schools, they cherish their time together.

I was attending a stake conference where I was to interview some prospective missionaries. Before one boy came in the room, the stake president said to me, “Now here is a boy who has just come through a serious experience. He is just out of the service. He suffered shell shock; you had better talk carefully to him and make sure that he is prepared to go.”
So as I talked with him, I said, “Now, why do you want to go on this mission, son? Are you sure that you want to go, really, after all this harrowing experience?”
He sat thoughtfully for a few moments and then replied: “Brother Lee, I had never been away from home before I went into the service. When I arrived in the military camps, every waking hour I heard filthy, profane language. I found myself losing a certain pure-mindedness, and I sought God in prayer to give me the strength not to fall into that terrible habit. God heard my prayer and gave me strength. Then we went through the training, and it was arduous, and I asked him to give me physical strength to go through, and he did. He heard my prayer, but as we moved up towards the fighting lines and I heard the booming of the guns and the crackling of the rifles—and sometimes as we crouched down in our shell holes, it just seemed that if I put a finger up it would be shot off so intense was the fighting—I was afraid. I would lie there just waiting, and I prayed to God to give me the courage to do the task that I was there to do, and the Lord heard my prayer and gave me courage. Then they sent me up with an advance patrol to search out the enemy and to radio back to the reinforcements, telling them where to attack. Sometimes the enemy would almost hedge me around until I was cut off, and it seemed that there was no escape and that surely my life would be taken. I asked the only source of protection to guide me safely back, and God heard my prayers. Time and again through the most harrowing experiences he led me back.
“Now,” he said, “Brother Lee, I am back home. And I would like to say thanks to that power to which I prayed—God, our Heavenly Father.” And then he said, “My purpose in going out on a mission is to teach others that faith that I was taught in my Sunday School, in my seminary, in my priesthood class, in my home. I want to teach others so that they will have that same strength that guided me through this difficult experience.”

Consider this experience: Once, in an elevator, I encountered a young woman who was pursuing a master’s degree. She hadn’t taken any of my classes, but I had seen her in the building and knew her to be a promising mentee of one of my colleagues. I asked her how she was doing.

Her response to me, a virtual stranger, was this: “I’m struggling today because my family thinks I have been led astray by the devil to pursue my education.”

I asked her if she herself was concerned that she was on the wrong path, as her family had suggested.

Between the first floor of my building and the seventh, this young woman bore testimony—and the Holy Ghost confirmed it to me—that the Spirit had guided her to pursue her studies and that she would continue to do what God asked of her.

Will and Anna are best friends. At recess, they play tag. Anna pushes Will’s wheelchair. They chase the other kids. Will reaches his hand out to tag them. Recess is lots of fun!
Sometimes it takes Will a long time to say his words. But Anna listens. She wants to hear what Will says.
Will listens to Anna’s silly jokes.
“What’s a pirate’s favorite letter?” Anna asks.
Will smiles and shakes his head.
“Arrr!” Anna says.
Will laughs. He makes a pirate hook with his finger.
“What music are balloons scared of?” Anna asks.
“What?” says Will.
“Pop music!”
Anna and Will laugh and laugh.
At lunch, Anna and Will eat together. Will has a helper. She helps him eat his lunch. Anna likes to talk with her too. Will’s favorite food is peanut butter. Anna’s favorite food is apples. The best food is peanut butter and apples together!
Sometimes Will and Anna play after school. They like to build with blocks. Will builds tall towers. Anna builds castles. Together they build lots of fun things!
Will has a hard time stacking the blocks. But he keeps trying. Anna finds red blocks for him. Red is Will’s favorite color.
Sometimes Will’s arms move funny. But it’s OK. Anna doesn’t mind. Sometimes she knocks a tower over. Whoops! But Will doesn’t mind.
Will and Anna are best friends. They help each other. Will likes to make Anna smile. Anna likes to make Will smile. They are happy to be friends.
Will is a child of God, and Anna is a child of God. God loves them. He is happy they are friends too.

“Oh, Mommy, do they have to come tomorrow?” I asked in a pleading voice.
“Of course they do. I’ve asked them to come early so they can stay all day, not just for Christmas dinner.”
“Why can’t we ever be by ourselves? Then we could have leftovers the next day,” I said. I didn’t like guests much, and especially not the Lindsays. They had five children, and these kids were the most ragged bunch in the whole school. My friends all said they were “different.”
“Christmas is for sharing, Karen,” my mother said. She was making pies for Christmas dinner and the spicy smell of apples and cinnamon filled the house.
“We won’t have enough food with the way the Lindsays eat. They’re always starving,” I grumbled, grabbing an apple while my mother put a pie in the oven.
“Now, Karen. You know we have enough for everyone, and Christmas is about giving. Now why don’t you go join your brother and Matthew to get the tree today.”
“Matthew? You mean Matthew Lindsay came over to get our Christmas tree too?” I was mad. My brother Jim and I always did that together. It was our tradition.
“Yes, Karen. Now hurry along,” she said. “And I want you to be nice to Matthew,” she added.
I put on my boots and my old coat and mittens and went out to find my brother. I didn’t even want to add Matthew’s name in my thoughts. It just wasn’t fair. Jim would be talking to him the whole time. They were both 12, and they wouldn’t even ask me about which tree to pick.
I saw them over by the barn getting the ax to chop down the tree.
“Hurry up, Karen, or we’ll have to go without you,” Jim shouted to me. He would never have said that if Matthew weren’t coming. He would have needed my help. I felt even madder.
Matthew smiled at me as I walked up to them. I just looked the other way.
The boys talked together all the way to the woods. I could have joined in, but that would have meant giving up my sulking, so I didn’t.
“Hey, Matt, how about that one?” Jim pointed at a beautiful tree. It was in the middle of a swampy area, but it was so cold that the water had frozen and we were able to get to it.
“What do you think, Karen?” Matthew asked me. I wished he hadn’t asked. I didn’t want to feel anything but angry right now.
“It looks OK,” I said grudgingly. It really was pretty, and I had to smile when I looked at it.
Matthew smiled too, and I began to feel better. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all.
Jim and Matthew took turns chopping while I stood and watched. The tree started to fall in my direction. I jumped to the side to get away, and my feet broke through the ice! It wasn’t that deep, but the cold water went over the tops of my boots. It was awful, and it made my teeth chatter. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want Jim to wish he hadn’t brought me. But Matthew saw, and he helped me dump the icy water out of my boots.
By the time we were pulling the tree home over the snow, the sun had dropped low over the hills. It was so cold that my feet were stinging and I could hardly keep from crying.
When we were halfway home, I fell in the snow because my feet were numb and I couldn’t keep up. I was so cold and miserable that tears began slipping down my cheeks.
“What’s the matter now, Karen? Come on, we need to hurry home before it gets too dark,” Jim said as he pulled me to my feet. But I couldn’t walk another step.
“Here, I’ll carry her if you’ll drag the tree and carry the ax,” Matthew said. “The tree is heavier, and you’re bigger than I am.”
Matthew handed the ax to Jim and pulled me up on his back. I suddenly realized that Matthew’s hands were bare. They must be as cold as my feet, but he was willing to carry me. I slipped off my mittens and handed them to Matthew. Then I tucked my hands in the long sleeves of my coat. He couldn’t turn around to look at me since I was on his back. I was glad because I didn’t want to see his kind face after I had been so mean to him.
Maybe my friends were wrong about the Lindsays. Maybe I should tell them so.

The ninth man to see Moroni was a man named Zera Pulsipher. He was a minister of another church. He had a vision in his barn. While he was out in the barn one day, a light descended upon him in the middle of this barn, and he looked up and saw Moroni. And Moroni blessed his life and showed him the plates. He became a Seventy in the Church. He became a high priest and became a patriarch. He’s the man who converted and baptized Wilford Woodruff into the Church in 1833.

As I was growing up, there were no Church buildings in the entire state of New Jersey, so for a time our little branch met in a hotel in a nearby town. My earliest memory of having a testimony of the gospel was when I was five or six years old and we were having a meeting in the ballroom of the hotel.
An important visitor was there. I don’t remember now who he was, but he was very thin and tall, and I believe he had white hair.
I had grown restless near the end of the meeting as he was speaking, and my mother had been trying to keep me quiet. She finally let me sit backward in my chair so that my legs were dangling from it. Although I wasn’t facing the speaker, I was listening to him. Suddenly I felt a burning in my heart, just like the burning described in Doctrine and Covenants 9:8 [D&C 9:8]: “And if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right.” I remember turning around and seeing this tall man with the light streaming in from the large windows behind him, and I knew that he was a servant of God and that what he was saying was true. The feeling I had then was as clear and sure as anything could be.

Just last month our family was reminded of this great principle when we were honored to participate in the baptism of a young man we met just a few months earlier. As I mentioned earlier, a year ago I was assigned to give the BYU Devotional. Prior to delivering my remarks, I met a faithful young man, Cristian, who worked on the production crew. A few months later, he learned I was to preside at a stake conference in his area and called to tell me about Eric, a nonmember law school classmate who he felt would benefit from visiting with me about my professional career. He asked if I would be willing to meet with them at the stake center following my conference assignment. I agreed.

We had a wonderful visit ranging from the law school experience, adapting to BYU Provo culture, professional experiences and his aspirations in life. We discussed some key points of doctrine of the gospel and his efforts to increase in faith as he sought to know the Lord. As we departed, I invited him to listen to general conference the following month.

Some months later, his friend Cristian, again called to see if I would be willing to connect with them on zoom as they had something they wanted to share. We connected virtually and Eric shared how the messages of general conference touched him. Much to my delight they announced that Eric had decided to be baptized and asked if we would attend. Sister Gerard and I adjusted our schedule and were able to join them on this momentous occasion. I was thrilled to see his fellow law students and a faithful bishop and his wife who had all come to support Eric.

Following the baptism and confirmation, Eric was invited to share his conversion story. He spoke of his spiritual growth, his worldwide travels and most recently his studies in the Middle East where circumstances required him to leave. He joked about giving the missionaries a hard time telling them he would only be baptized if President Nelson baptized him. He then shared that he did not fully understand why he felt he was to come to BYU, but then he said, “when I decided to let God prevail in my life, things seemed to change, and I was much happier.”

I was struck by the relatively simple but significant message. That allowing God to prevail in his life brought him to this place at this time to learn his purpose in life and to accept the truth. I’m not sure he fully appreciated the impact of his message. I thought of President Nelson in his prophetic direction to let god prevail, and the profound change we can all experience as we let god prevail in our own personal lives.

Many years ago, I received a call from a bishop requesting my assistance to find a woman in his ward. This sister had a severe mental illness and at times would run away and hide from imagined threats, though they were very real to her. Her life had not been easy. She had been abused, exploited, and disowned by others for much of her life. She had made her own bad choices as well. The bishop and I located this sister in a motel on the other side of town. When the bishop knocked on the door and called her name, she immediately recognized his voice. She opened the door and allowed us to help her into the bishop’s vehicle so we could take her to the hospital. As I took her by the arm, God opened a vision to me of this woman’s divine nature. He loved her deeply and considered her to be one of His choicest daughters. He let me know she was willing to come to earth despite her many challenges. He believed in her. He let me know it was a sacred privilege for me to be in her presence.

Another family with multiple names engraved on the monument is that of Stillman Pond. President James E. Faust details their sacrifice in these words:
“Like others, he and his wife, Maria, and their children were harassed and driven out of Nauvoo. In September 1846, they became part of the great western migration. The early winter that year brought extreme hardships, including malaria, cholera, and consumption. The family was visited by all three of these diseases.
Maria contracted consumption, and all of the children were stricken with malaria. Three of the children died while moving through the early snows. Stillman buried them on the plains. Maria’s condition worsened because of the grief, pain, and the fever of malaria. She could no longer walk. Weakened and sickly, she gave birth to twins. They were named Joseph and Hyrum, and both died within a few days.
The Stillman Pond family arrived at Winter Quarters and, like many other families, they suffered bitterly while living in a tent. The death of the five children coming across the plains to Winter Quarters was but a beginning…
‘On Wednesday, the 2nd of December 1846, Laura Jane Pond, age 14 years, … died of chills and fever.’ Two days later on ‘Friday, the 4th of December 1846, Harriet M. Pond, age 11 years, … died with chills.’ Three days later, ‘Monday, the 7th of December, 1846, Abigail A. Pond, age 18 years, … died with chills.’ Just five weeks later, ‘Friday, the 15th of January, 1847, Lyman Pond, age 6 years, … died with chills and fever. Four months later, on the 17th of May, 1847, his wife Maria Davis Pond also died. Crossing the plains, Stillman Pond lost nine children and a wife. He became an outstanding colonizer in Utah, and became the senior president of the thirty-fifth Quorum of Seventy. (See Leon Y. and H. Ray Pond, comps., “Stillman Pond, a Biographical Sketch,” in Sterling Forsyth Histories, typescript, Church Historical Dept. Archives, pp. 4–5.)
Having lost these nine children and his wife in crossing the plains, Stillman Pond did not lose his faith. He did not quit.” (James E. Faust, "The Refiner's Fire," Ensign, May, 1979)
He could not be shaken.

An example from Victor Hugo’s novel Les Misérables, though fictional, has always touched and inspired me. Near the beginning of the story, Bishop Bienvenu gives food and overnight shelter to the homeless Jean Valjean, who has just been released from 19 years in prison for having stolen a loaf of bread to feed his sister’s starving children. Hardened and embittered, Valjean rewards Bishop Bienvenu’s kindness by stealing his silver goods. Later detained by suspicious gendarmes, Valjean falsely claims the silver was a gift to him. When the gendarmes drag him back to the bishop’s house, to Valjean’s great surprise, Bishop Bienvenu confirms his story and for good effect says, “‘But! I gave you the candlesticks also, which are silver like the rest, and would bring two hundred francs. Why did you not take them along with your plates?’ …
“The bishop approached him, and said, in a low voice:
“‘Forget not, never forget that you have promised me to use this silver to become an honest man.’
“Jean Valjean, who had no recollection of this promise, stood confounded. The bishop … continued, solemnly:
“‘Jean Valjean, my brother: you belong no longer to evil, but to good. It is your soul that I am buying for you. I withdraw it from dark thoughts and from the spirit of perdition, and I give it to God!’”
Jean Valjean indeed became a new man, an honest man and a benefactor to many. Throughout his life he kept the two silver candlesticks to remind him that his life had been redeemed for God.6

“So it has been all through my life. If I have undertaken to do anything, and the Lord has wanted me to do something else, He has had to tell me. When we were sent to England, we were sent by revelation. I went into the Staffordshire potteries with Brother Alfred Cordon. We were doing a splendid work, baptizing almost every night, and I thought it was the finest mission I ever was on. I went into the town of Hanley one night, and attended meeting in a large hall, which was filled to overflowing. The Spirit of the Lord came upon me and said that that was the last meeting I should hold with that people for many days. I told the people that that was the last meeting I should be with them. After the meeting, they asked me where I was going. I told them I did not know. In the morning I asked the Lord what He wanted of me. He merely said, ‘Go to the south.’ I got into the stage and rode eighty miles. The first man’s house I stopped at was John Benbow’s in Herefordshire. In half an hour after I entered the house I knew exactly why the Lord had sent me. There was a people there who had been praying for the ancient order of things. They were waiting for the Gospel as it was taught by Christ and His Apostles. The consequence was, the first thirty days after I got there I baptized six hundred of those people. In eight month’s labor in that country I brought eighteen hundred into the Church. Why? Because there was a people prepared for the Gospel, and the Lord sent me there to do that work. I have always had to give God the glory for everything good that has happened to me; for I have realized by what power it came.” (Deseret Weekly, 7 Nov. 1896, p. 643.)

When I was 19 I was called up to the Swedish army. As an artillery signalist, I served in the Eighth Company’s staff and leading platoon.

At 4:00 one January morning, our officers ordered us to get dressed with full equipment and gather outside in 20 minutes. Tired and hungry from the previous day’s activities, I felt like I had barely closed my eyes, and here I was again preparing to confront a new test. I still remember how it felt, stepping from the warmth of the barracks into an indescribable cold.

A huge military bus arrived to pick us up, and we were told we were going to Stockholm for a big test to see if we were qualified to continue our training. Arriving in the city, we were divided into three groups, with different maps and separate destinations.

We walked the streets of Stockholm, fully equipped with weapons, ammunition, and other gear. At each checkpoint we were required to perform a physical test, such as hostage confrontation, street battle, running through tunnels and buildings, and first aid treatment. After every test we barely had time to rest before moving on to the next checkpoint.

The freezing asphalt made my feet numb, and my shoulders ached from the heavy equipment. But I kept going and tried not to complain. Our group experienced bitter weather and difficult trials, but we were still marching as brothers. Along the route, we encountered shocked civilians who laughed, pointed fingers, and shouted at us.

I was tired, cold, dirty, and in pain when we reached our final destination and the bus picked us up. During the trip back to the base, I reflected on the trials my platoon and I had endured and asked myself if this training was worth anything besides the medals awarded at the conclusion. I asked myself if anyone else besides us had gone through trials as we had that day.

Suddenly, I thought of the hardships and sacrifice of the pioneers of the early days of the Church. I recalled the stories of their hunger, cold, and pain; of being mocked; and of walking endless miles—the same things I had experienced that day. The big difference is that I had to endure this for only one day. The pioneers traveled in cold and snow, rain and heat, walking through mud and dust. They walked with little material security, having only faith that the Lord would protect them. The pioneers walked to find Zion because the Lord had a marvelous work for these members to perform.

Suddenly, without thinking, I started to sing “Come, Come, Ye Saints” (Hymns, no. 30), and right there on the bus I started to feel a difference within me. A great warmth and happiness flowed through my body. I was not active in the Church at that time and I had thought I would never come back, but suddenly a feeling came over me saying, “Come back to church.”

When I got to the base, I called my parents and told them I loved them and wanted to go back to church. The following Sunday was a huge test for me to see if I had the courage to return because I had been away for so long. Going back wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. My family and the other members helped me feel welcome.

I began to prepare to serve a mission and two years later received a mission call to serve in the Cape Verde Praia Mission. When I arrived in Salt Lake City on my way to the Missionary Training Center, I saw the marvelous work performed by the pioneers in building a magnificent temple and planning a beautiful city. I said softly, “Thank you.”

Today, when I ask myself if that military test was worth anything, I answer that it was, in every way, because in that moment of great insight on a bus with a platoon of fellow soldiers, I realized how important the work of the Lord is. It was worth it because I came back to the Lord and am now doing His work and His will.

Isabel Faye Hills was excited for a very special birthday. On the day she turned eight, she was baptized and confirmed! At home in Goffstown, New Hampshire, Isabel’s family says she is a shining example of staying on the right track with hard work and a great laugh.
Isabel helped plan her baptism service, and she made the program herself. She was baptized by her dad and confirmed by her Grandpap Conklin.