Gospel Story Finder

The various activities of the day left the girls tired, but not too worn out to express their feelings during a testimony meeting. They read their favorite scriptures to each other, spoke again of their love for nature, for the gospel, and for the Lord, and talked about the lessons they had learned on their trip: lessons of perseverance, sacrifice, relaxation, and sharing the load.
“It’s unbelievable the feeling you get on top of a mountain,” said Sandy Kay, 17. “If you have an open mind and a humble heart, it can really help straighten out your priorities and help you see the reason why we’re here.”

I attended the Hamilton School, which was a big three-story building. The structure was old and poor by today’s standards, but I learned that it was not the building that made a difference; it was the teachers. When the weather would permit, we assembled in front of the school in the morning, pledged allegiance to the flag, and marched in orderly fashion to our rooms.

We dressed neatly for school, and no unkempt appearance was tolerated. The boys wore a shirt and a tie and short trousers. We wore long black stockings that reached from the foot to above the knee. They were made of cotton and wore out quickly, so they had to be darned frequently. We learned how to darn because it was unthinkable to go to school with a hole in your stocking.

We learned a lesson on the importance of personal neatness and tidiness, and that has blessed my life ever since.

While Sister Carole M. Stephens was driving with her granddaughter, Chloe kept getting out of her seat. She didn’t want to wear a seatbelt! Sister Stephens said she wanted Chloe to wear a seatbelt because she loved her and wanted her to be safe. This time, Chloe stayed in her seat. This is like commandments. Sometimes it may feel like they are holding us back, but God gives them to us because He loves us and wants us to be safe.

Siblings Suvarna and Sarala Katuka joined the Church in 1984 and later served missions.

Suvarna had joined the Church in Rajahmundry. He, along with five brothers and one sister, was baptized in 1984. On the day of his baptism, Suvarna was ordained a priest and set apart as the second counselor in the branch presidency. He was also promised in a blessing that if he remained faithful, he would be a “pillar of the Church in India.”

Suvarna’s sister Sarala also served a mission. Before she left, she introduced the gospel to her friend Swarupa. When Suvarna returned from his mission, he was blessed by his sister’s missionary work and married Swarupa. That small branch in Rajahmundry has now become a stake. Many returned missionaries from Rajahmundry have become leaders within the Church throughout India.

I met the children of Suvarna and Swarupa Katuka while teaching at BYU in 2014. Josh Katuka had recently finished serving a mission in Bangalore, India, and his sister Timnah had just received her call to the same mission. When I asked Timnah and Josh if they knew Raj Kumar, they said, “Yes, he’s our uncle!” Raj Kumar had married Sarala.

I am grateful to the Katukas for introducing me to several other pioneers as they helped me travel in India. Many of them trace their pioneer trail back to the love and example of the Katuka family. At one point, Suvarna and Swarupa had the opportunity to emigrate to Canada. But they turned it down because they felt that the Lord needed them to stay in India and build the kingdom of God there. Their devoted service has truly made them pillars of the Church.

It is a typical Saturday morning along the Salt Lake Valley’s Jordan River. The sun’s rays shimmer as they reflect off calm waters, the birds’ warbles create a peaceful harmony, and the squirrels’ chatter echoes through the trees. Suddenly, the usual tranquility of the early morning is interrupted as large clusters of people round a bend in the smooth trail that runs along the river. There are 500 people of all ages and denominations. What’s more, they are laughing and talking together.
Maybe this isn’t such a typical Saturday.
It was last April that Brighton High School senior Gweneth Thomas decided that she needed to get more involved in service. So she approached a representative of Church World Service, an interfaith organization dedicated to helping fellow Christians in times of need. She soon became at least 80 hours immersed in service as she agreed to become the organization’s first youth coordinator of the annual Christian Rural Overseas Program walk.
CROP walks are worldwide fundraisers for struggling countries in times of crisis. Volunteers are asked to pledge money and then walk a six-mile course to help them appreciate the hardships of fellow Christians all over the world.
The theme of the 1996 walk was “We walk because they walk,” referring to the individuals in many developing countries who must walk five or six hours a day to find food and water.
Besides raising money for the needy, Gweneth and her co-chair, Max Freeman, had a very specific goal in mind for the 1996 walk. They wanted members of the ten participating religions to work to break down the barriers between each other and move from intolerance to acceptance, from acceptance to respect, and finally from respect to love.
But before any of this could happen, Gweneth and Max felt they needed to get teenagers involved as well as adults. They started in their high school cafeteria. Fellow Brighton High students Alina Stay, Brenna Flynn, and Mindy Pitts observed their classmates’ reactions to Gweneth’s pleas for donations.
“What doesn’t seem like a lot of money to me will feed a lot of people [in another country],” says Mindy.
Brenna, a convert to the Church, was especially concerned with helping Gweneth and Max create peaceful interfaith relations through the walk.
The most exciting part of the event for her was seeing that goal fulfilled as “people from other faiths shared testimonies and showed the true spirit of Christianity without the normal my-church-is-better-than-your-church attitude,” she says.
“Build up trust and gain a respect for each other,” says Max.
And not only did the teens spur these good relations between denominations while donating money; they walked as well.
Perhaps it was the strenuous six-mile walk. Perhaps it was the wooden signs along the trails with poignant messages. Perhaps it was the experience of associating with people of many different faiths. Whatever the case, the mood at the picnic afterward was reflective.
Everyone seemed to sense what Gweneth put into words, “One person can make a big difference.”

“Do you like our bishop?”
Robby thought for a minute. He remembered the time the bishop came to his house when his mother was very sick and couldn’t care for the family. After that, some church ladies came by to help take care of them and his sick mother. The bishop seemed really nice. “Yeah, I think he’s OK.”
“Well, believe it or not, I used to be his Primary teacher.”
“Oh.” Robby nodded. “I guess you could have been; you are pretty old.” Robby blushed when he realized what he’d said.
Sister Jensen laughed heartily. “That’s true! He was a sweet little boy, just like you. You and he have a lot in common—his parents never brought him to church, either. I used to pick him up all the time. He even sat with me in sacrament meeting.
“When he was about your age,” Sister Jensen continued, “he decided to make choices that would help him the rest of his life. He had a little problem with angry words, and he decided that every time he became upset, he’d say ‘How exasperating!’ I told him that that was a good start, but that he also needed to fill his mind with good things. That way only good things would come out of his mouth.”
The next Sunday, Sister Jensen picked Robby up in time for sacrament meeting. The bishop was conducting and seemed to be having a difficult time with some of the announcements. Finally he put down the paper he was reading, smiled at the ward members, and exclaimed, “How exasperating!”

I recall how much, as a youngster, I liked dogs. One day I took my wagon and placed a wooden orange crate in it and went looking for dogs. At that time dogs were everywhere to be found: at school, walking along the sidewalks, or exploring vacant lots, of which there were many. As I would find a dog and capture it, I placed it in the crate, took it home, locked it in the coal shed, and turned the latch on the door. That day I think I brought home six dogs of varying sizes and made them my prisoners after this fashion. I had no idea what I would do with all those dogs, so I didn’t reveal my deed to anyone.
Dad came home from work and, as was his custom, took the coal bucket and went to the coal shed to fill it. Can you imagine his shock and utter consternation as he opened the door and immediately faced six dogs, all attempting to escape at once? As I recall, Dad flushed a little bit, and then he calmed down and quietly told me, “Tommy, coal sheds are for coal. Other people’s dogs rightfully belong to them.” By observing him, I learned a lesson in patience and calmness.

Photograph by Mirna Ortiz
Elder Esteban Méndez’s mother said the Lord isn’t “casual” in His plan for His children. He is always aware of our needs. Elder Méndez was originally called to serve in the Guatemala Guatemala City Mission, and his parents were excited for him to serve.
Just before leaving the Mexico Missionary Training Center to enter the mission field, however, he returned home. His parents were confused. They came to understand that the Lord had called him to serve in Guatemala so that he could deepen his own conversion while in the Mexico Missionary Training Center. Much of his testimony began to grow there in Mexico.
Soon after returning home, Elder Méndez was called to be a service missionary in Costa Rica, where he lives. He didn’t know anything about service missions but accepted the call with faith that he could serve the Lord there too.
He didn’t know anything about service missions but accepted the call with faith.
After accepting the call, Elder Méndez became the first young service missionary in Costa Rica. At the time, he and his companion were the only young service missionaries in the entire country.
Elder Méndez’s service includes assisting in the mission office, accompanying the teaching missionaries, and serving in the San José Costa Rica Temple.
Elder Méndez’s father said, “Because of Elder Méndez’s efforts, one extended family member has been baptized and another is taking missionary lessons.”

At the end of 2014, I read Doctrine and Covenants 31:2–3 that states. “I will bless you and your family . . . and the day cometh that they will believe and know the truth and be one with you in my church.
“Lift up your heart and rejoice, for the hour of your mission is come; and your tongue shall be loosed, and you shall declare glad tidings of great joy unto this generation.”
I knew that I had to fulfill the priesthood duty by serving a full-time mission. I informed my siblings and my mother of my desire to serve. My mother initially opposed the idea and threatened to disown me if I left. Through prayer and fasting, she eventually relented. I was called to serve in the Accra Ghana Mission, and the promise of seeing my father again became a reality after he was baptized by proxy in the Accra Ghana Temple.

My first retirement decision was to visit my three sons and their families in Utah for six months. My wife would join me later as she was still employed. In October 2019, while in Utah, I attended my first general conference. It was the most beautiful spiritual experience I had ever had in a Church meeting. Everything I saw, heard, and felt at the Conference Center filled me with gratitude and love for the gospel and for all that I had learned in the Church since my baptism in 1977.
I wept as I sang the congregational hymns. I marveled at the sight of the 15 living prophets and apostles all seated together on the stand amidst other general authorities and the angelic Tabernacle Choir at Temple Square. The congregation’s singing seemed to rise towards heaven, and I wanted my voice to be heard amongst the 23,000 others in attendance. It was truly a majestic experience.

After learning of the deaths of the Prophet Joseph and the Patriarch Hyrum, Wilford Woodruff reports his meeting with Brigham Young, who was then the President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, as follows: “I met Brigham Young in the streets of Boston, he having just returned, opposite to Sister Voce’s house. We reached out our hands, but neither of us was able to speak a word. … After we had done weeping we began to converse. … In the course of the conversation, he [Brigham Young] smote his hand upon his thigh and said, ‘Thank God, the keys of the kingdom are here.’”

Illustration by Allen Garns
I was skeptical when the missionaries taught me about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. My first thought was that Joseph Smith, like many other so-called “prophets,” may have brought a false book into the world seeking to become wealthy, famous, or heroic.
I had no intention of reading the Book of Mormon. But over time the missionaries’ friendship and their enthusiasm for the gospel allowed my curiosity toward their message to grow.
As I read the verses the missionaries gave me in the Book of Mormon, I found Moroni’s invitation to ask God with a sincere heart, real intent, and faith in Christ if the Book of Mormon is true (see Moroni 10:4–5). I thought, “Who, knowing the book was fake, would dare challenge us to ask God with real intent and sincerity if the Book of Mormon is true?”
Then one day the missionaries explained that Joseph Smith and his brother, Hyrum, were martyred for their testimony. Suddenly, a thought came to me that they would never have given up their own lives for something they knew was false. At that moment, a warm feeling, like a burning fire, spread through me. It was a witness of the Holy Spirit confirming to my heart that Joseph Smith was a true prophet. With this witness, I was baptized and confirmed.
I was reminded of this experience 25 years later when I read a talk by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. In his talk, Elder Holland asked if, in the critical moment of their martyrdom, Joseph and Hyrum would continue to blaspheme before God by fixing their lives, their honor, and their eternal salvation on a book they knew was false.
“They would not do that!” Elder Holland said. “They were willing to die rather than deny the divine origin and the eternal truthfulness of the Book of Mormon.”1
Elder Holland’s words made so much sense to me and further strengthened my testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith and the power of the Book of Mormon.
I am grateful for the Prophet Joseph Smith. He brought forth the Book of Mormon and willingly gave his life to be a witness of Jesus Christ. Through the Book of Mormon, I have come to know of God’s existence and of His love for me.

Three Christmas trees stand out in the memory of Elder Gary B. Sabin.
The first was a beautiful Christmas tree of his youth. When Gary scaled the tree trying to reach a candy cane, the entire tree crashed to the ground.
The second was an evergreen branch he found as a missionary while serving in Belgium and the Netherlands from 1973 to 1975. Elder Sabin and his companion took the branch home to their apartment and propped it up around the Christmas cards they had received from home.
The third was a tree made of Christmas lights strung on the IV stand next to his daughter’s hospital bed. One of three Sabin children to suffer from cystic fibrosis, his daughter had received a double-lung transplant one year after the death of her brother from the same disease.
“We have learned a lot more from our children than they have learned from us,” says Elder Sabin.
As a General Authority he will remember the Christmas trees and the lessons he learned from them. Each tree highlights portions of his journey—from a young boy wanting a candy cane to a missionary teaching the plan of salvation to a father who relied on the plan and the Savior’s love to sustain his family through mortal trials.
Gary Byron Sabin was born in Provo, Utah, USA, on April 7, 1954, to Marvin E. and Sylvia W. Sabin. He married Valerie Purdy in August 1976. They are the parents of five children; a sixth child was stillborn.
After graduating from Brigham Young University in Provo, Elder Sabin earned a master’s degree in management from Stanford University.
Elder Sabin has served in numerous Church callings, including as bishop, stake president, and Area Seventy. He has worked as a founder, chairman, and CEO of several companies, including Excel Realty Trust, Price Legacy, Excel Realty Holdings, and Excel Trust.
In 1993, Elder and Sister Sabin formed Sabin Children’s Foundation, an organization dedicated to addressing the medical needs of children.

Bing Dao ran through his village, down the dirt path, and into his house. “Mother! My school’s doing the lion dance in the village for our Chinese New Year. And I get to be the lion!”
Mother stopped washing the rice for dinner. “That’s wonderful, Dao. But won’t the lion head be too heavy? They’re made for grown men, not twelve-year-old boys.”
“They ordered a special one, and guess what! I can go to the city of Fushan to get it when it’s finished, if Father will go with me.”
“I’m sure he will. Will someone from school go with you too?”
“No, my teacher told me everything that needs to be done. He said that as long as I don’t travel alone, it will be all right.”
“Be sure you remember everything that your teacher told you.”
“Of course.”
“Now, Dao, you know you forget things when you get excited. Did you pay close attention and write everything down?”
Dao hated these lectures. He sighed. “Oh, Mother, I’ll remember everything. I don’t need to write it down.”
“I hope not,” his mother said quietly.
Dao pranced around the room, bobbing up and down like he’d seen the lion dancers do. He crouched low and sprang up, thrusting his hands above his head, lifting the imaginary lion head high. “BOOM boom! Chiiing! BOOM boom! Chiiing!” Dao imitated the drums and cymbals and danced to their rhythm.
“Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom!” He wiggled his body and bowed very low before his mother.
She clapped. “You’ll make a grand lion, Bing Dao!”
“Mother!” Dao scolded from the floor, “When the lion bows like this, you’re supposed to give him something.”
“How about a sweet sesame biscuit?”
The lion wiggled all over. He devoured the offering, wobbled his head, and backed away.
Dao waited anxiously for the day they would go to Fushan. This would be his first trip to a city. Now every day he practiced the lion dance. Of course, he studied hard, too—after all, the village lion dancer had to set a good example for the other students.
On the Friday before they were to leave, Dao went to the office to get the money.
“Mr. Gu is away. You will have to wait until next week,” the office worker said.
Dao’s heart began to pound. “But I’m going to Fushan tomorrow, so I need the money now.”
“I thought you were to come last week for it.”
Dao’s stomach felt like ice, and his mouth got dry. “Oh! I—I guess I forgot!”
“I’m very sorry, but he won’t be back before Wednesday.”
Dao walked home with a heavy heart. Mother’s right, I do forget things when I get excited. He groaned. What will Father say? And now I’ll get another lecture from Mr. Gu about remembering things. And I must keep my head bowed and listen. Father says that’s the Chinese way.
Dao’s father was kind. “There’s enough time—we’ll go a week from tomorrow—all right?”
Something seemed wrong about that, but Dao couldn’t think why. “I guess so.” He hoped he wasn’t forgetting something.
Mr. Gu did lecture, and Dao listened with his eyes lowered. He promised to do better, but all the while he was really thinking about the exciting trip ahead.
When they stepped off the train in Fushan, Father said, “We’ll go to the lantern factory first and pay for the lion head; then we’ll locate a van to take it to our village.”
While walking to the factory, they passed more shops than Dao had ever seen. Some sold tiny delicate clay figures and large ceramic vases. Others sold fabrics, dresses, or jewelry. Dao liked the clean smell of leather coming from the shoe shops. He saw lots of other things for sale—candy, dried fruit, vegetables. Some shops sold dried snakes, deer horns, odd bones, and old bark. The spice shops smelled best of all. Their sweet and pungent odors tickled his nose.
When they passed a delicious-smelling noodle shop, Father said, “Your favorite, Dao—rice noodles! We’ll eat lunch here later.”
In the lantern factory, Dao watched the workers making lion and dragon heads by gluing bright silk cloth or paper to wire frames. Above his head hung hundreds of brilliant paper lanterns. Huge red globes, pagoda shapes with tassels hanging from the corners, animals, birds, and fish were also there.
Dao gave the shop manager the order.
“But that head has been sold,” the manager said. “We didn’t think you were coming. You’re too late. I’m sorry.”
“Too late?”
“The order says the delivery date was seven days ago.”
Dao’s stomach turned to ice again. He’d forgotten about the delivery date! His teacher had warned him that the factory might not hold it past that day.
“I’m sorry,” the manager said again, “but it’s gone.”
“Can you make another one?”
“Goodness no! There isn’t time.”
“Where is ours? Who bought it?” Dao asked. “I must buy it from them.”
“I don’t think that they will sell it. Mr. Wang at Wang’s School of Dance is the person to ask.”
Father tapped his shoulder. “Come, Son.”
Dao fought back tears as he followed his father out of the factory. “Oh, Father, what if Mr. Wang says no?”
“An ancient proverb says, ‘A sweet gift loosens the tight fist.’”
Bing Dao frowned, thinking about that. “You mean I should buy a gift for Mr. Wang?”
Father nodded.
Dao had saved money to buy firecrackers for the New Year. If he had to pay for a gift for Mr. Wang, he wouldn’t have enough for the firecrackers. I can’t ask Father for the money, though, he thought, because it’s my fault. I must pay for it myself. So Dao bought a gift box of fancy cookies because the present had to be very special. It took almost all his money.
At the dance school, Dao gave the gift to Mr. Wang and, with his stomach doing somersaults, explained his problem.
Finally he said, “I didn’t get the money in time, and I forgot about the delivery date. I shouldn’t have been late, and I’m sorry to trouble you, but—” Dao swallowed hard— “may I please buy the lion head?”
Mr. Wang shook his head. “My students are already practicing the dance. How can I disappoint them now?”
“But it really belongs to our school. We ordered it. Please.” Dao sounded more courageous than he felt.
Mr. Wang remained silent for a long time. Finally he said, “Come back after lunch. I must think about this.”
Lunch in the noodle shop was quiet and grim. Afterward Dao couldn’t even remember if it tasted good.
Back at the dance school, Dao found all the students assembled. Mr. Wang said he wanted Bing Dao to explain his problem to the whole school.
Dao looked at the sea of faces and gulped. He tried to speak, but only a creak came out. The faces smiled. He tried again. “Well, … uh … I, uh, came to ask to buy the lion head.”
The smiles disappeared. Bing Dao began to talk fast. “You see, my school ordered it special because I’m not strong enough to carry a hig bion lead … I mean a lig hion bed … I mean—”
Everybody started to laugh. Bing Dao didn’t think it was funny at all. He wanted to vanish into thin air, but he took a deep breath and went on. “My village is depending on me to dance with the lion head for the New Year celebration. I know that it’s my own fault that I’m in such a muddle, but …” He faltered to a stop. Then he saw his father nod and smile. Dao took new courage. “My school got the idea and my school ordered the head. I’m asking you to please help me by selling it to me.”
The room was very quiet. Finally Mr. Wang said, “Bing Dao, you speak the truth bravely.” There was an agonizing pause. The dance teacher turned to the students. “How many think that we should sell the lion head to Bing Dao?”
For an awful minute no hand was raised. Then one went up, and another, and another, until almost every hand could be seen.
“Well, I guess you have the answer, Bing Dao. The lion head is yours.”
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Wang. Thank you, students.”
On the way home, Father said, “I’m proud of you, Dao. You applied another wise saying—‘Truth spoken gently wins the argument.’”
“Thank you, Father. I learned a lot today. And from now on, I’m going to write things down so I won’t forget.”
“Good idea, Son. Then all you have to remember is to read the list.”
They both laughed.

Apr. 13, 1853 I went to Cranberry Head, near to Yarmouth (2). Here I found Brother John Robinson and Brother Benjamin T. Mitchell at Mr. Moses Shaw’s. The Brethren (Robinson and Mitchell) said that they were going to travel together. The Brethren both said that I was too young and inexperienced to travel with either of them. They said I had better go to Halifax and see Brother A. D. L. Buckland and get counsel from him.

Apr. 14, 1853 I went into Yarmouth. Came back to Mr. Grace’s. He treated me kindly. I stayed until Saturday. Started for Halifax. (3) Left Cape Sable to my right hand. Traveled two hundred ten miles around the coast capes and bays to get to Halifax. I had to rely upon Him whose business I was on. I felt my weakness. A poor, ill-clothed, ignorant boy in my teens, thousands of miles from home, amongst strangers. The promise in my Blessings, the encouraging words of President Young to me, with the faith I had in the Gospel, kept me up. Many a time I would turn into the woods and brush in some desolate place, with a full heart, wet eyes and face, to call on my Master for strength and aid. I believed the Gospel of Christ. I never had preached it. I knew not where to find it in the scriptures. I had to give my Bible to the boatman at the Digby Gut for passage across.

That same revelation that called Ezra to repentance was also directed toward other elders, including Edward Partridge, a bishop. Like Ezra, Edward had also been disappointed in the location of Zion. The Lord instructed Edward to move his family to Independence so that he could oversee the purchase of land for the Saints, but Edward wasn’t excited about living there. He was used to living in an established town. He wrote to his wife, Lydia, “We have to suffer, and shall for some time, many privations here.”4
Edward also disagreed with Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery about what land he should buy. Joseph and Oliver wanted certain tracts to be purchased, but Edward believed there was better land somewhere else. Edward had hard feelings toward Joseph for a while.5
But unlike Ezra, Edward didn’t allow the disagreement or his disappointment to drive him away from the gospel. Instead, he eventually asked for forgiveness from the Lord and from Joseph. “I sometimes feel as though I must fall,” he wrote to Lydia. “I fear my station is above what I can perform to the acceptance of my Heavenly Father.”6 He told Joseph that he hoped the Prophet could forgive him for the dispute because he was and “has always been sorry.”7
Edward and Joseph reconciled, and Edward stayed faithful until he died in 1840.

When the flooding started, their parents told the boys that they were all going sandbagging. Jimmy and Paul moaned and groaned all day. But after their parents explained to them why they were doing it—to save people’s homes and businesses—the boys were anxious every morning to get to work. Each day for two weeks, they went sandbagging with their mom from 10:30 A.M. until 3:30 P.M., when they’d go home to eat. When their dad got home from work, they all went again from 5 P.M. until about 9 P.M. They were very grateful to the Red Cross, who brought food and water so that they could stay on the job.

Last year, our very first nephew, Nathan, left to serve a mission in Mexico. We explained to our children that Nathan was in the MTC to learn Spanish. One evening we decided to devote a family home evening night to writing letters to him. Although we were helping the youngest, all of the other children were writing independently. At one point, Stephen, age 7, asked, “How do you spell ‘empty?’” We thought nothing of it at the time, but later as we were reviewing what the kids had written, we saw this question in Stephen’s letter: “Dear Nathan, what do you do in the empty sea?”—Meredith J., Colorado

It took about six months of planning, but the gifts the youth of the Menan Stake, in Idaho, started at their youth conference in June were signed, sealed, and delivered by Christmas.

They made toys and other things for the Deseret Industries to give to needy families at Christmas. They made doll blankets, doll furniture, jump ropes, bags of building blocks, animals and corral fences, wooden puzzles and games, villages painted on canvas, a crib-sized quilt, and one queen-sized quilt.

The youth were excited to have the Christmas spirit last half the year.

I skipped up the sidewalk to my home, overflowing with excitement. My friend had invited me to spend the weekend at a cabin.
I came bursting through the front door and announced my plans to my mother.
“Don’t you have baptisms for the dead tomorrow?” she said.
I thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, but I can do it another time.”
She looked at me with concern. “You went in for your recommend interview and everything. You said you would go.”
My thoughts of a weekend at a cabin began to slowly fade away. The cabin sounded like so much fun. “Well, I already told my friends I would go with them.”
“You also told your Young Women leader that you would do baptisms. You made that promise first,” my mother reminded me.
“I don’t care! I’m not going!” I snapped back.
She looked on me with disappointment and then walked away.
“Great!” I said to myself, feeling even more guilty. Finally I went into the living room by myself, knelt down, and asked Heavenly Father to help me make the right decision.
When I finished, I just knelt there for a moment. I paid attention to my thoughts. They were directed now toward being in the temple and getting baptized for people who had been waiting for so long. I stood and walked into the kitchen. As I walked past the fridge, I saw a quote from President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008):
“If we are a temple-going people, we will be a better people, we will be better fathers and husbands, we will be better wives and mothers. I know your lives are busy. I know that you have much to do. But I make you a promise that if you will go to the house of the Lord, you will be blessed, life will be better for you” (“Excerpts from Recent Addresses of President Gordon B. Hinckley,” Ensign, July 1997, 73).
I stood there transfixed as I read the quote over and over again. My prayers had been answered. I went back into my living room and knelt a second time, only this time I thanked my Heavenly Father for answering my prayer and for teaching me a lesson about sacrifice.
The next day when I went to the temple, I remember feeling so good. I knew I had made the right decision, thanks to Heavenly Father. I know if we truly want to do what is right, sacrifice is a blessing rather than a setback.