Gospel Story Finder

I’m grateful for the bishop’s encouragement and belief in my daughter’s ability to be able to settle down in a sacrament meeting. He didn’t judge me for not being able to get my daughter to be reverent all the time. I will never forget the day he assigned me to give a talk on the responsibility of a mother. I felt it was a role I had fallen very short on, but my bishop didn’t. On Mother’s Day, the bishop, knowing that I often had to leave church early, ran after me to ensure that he personally handed me my Mother’s Day card and gift. That deeply touched my heart.

Another way we partner with God is by letting our light shine. Eighteen years ago, while I was serving as a bishop, a woman visited our ward for a Sunday worship. After the service, I invited her to meet in my office. During our discussion, a Primary child walked into my office, greeted the visitor, and gave me her tithing envelope, after which I proceeded to shake her hand and thank her. These few seconds with this faithful Primary child touched the visitor, and she began to ask questions about tithing and other doctrines of the Church. She later joined the Church and today serves as a stake Relief Society president—all because a Primary child was living the gospel.

At our multistake youth conference, we all received a Book of Mormon and were invited to give it to someone. I wanted to give mine to my favorite pop singer.
When I found out he was giving a concert in my city, I thought this would be the perfect opportunity. Each of his concerts has a lottery that selects 15 fans to go backstage and meet him. It’s nearly impossible to be selected, but I entered anyway.
A few weeks before the concert, I wrote my testimony in a Book of Mormon and prayed. I explained to Heavenly Father that the odds were against me and that I needed His help.
As soon as I said “amen,” my cell phone rang with a call from the singer’s office. I had been selected!
Backstage on the day of the concert, I presented the singer with the book. He opened it and read my testimony: “I spent a lot of time thinking of a valuable, useful present for you. I realized that I needed to give you something that was valuable because of what it contained and not because of its price. This is the Book of Mormon; it is the most precious thing I have. It will be for you too if you read it.”
He gave me a hug and said he would read it. I couldn’t hold back my tears!

Another class in Gillingham, Kent, has nine students. Two of these, Helen and Vicki Butcher, live on the Isle of Sheppey. At one stage they were arising at 4:00 A.M., walking one and a half miles to the local station, catching a train to the mainland, then walking another mile to Sister Isaac’s house for lessons. The return journey differed only a little. The walk from the station to school was two and a half miles.
Then an inspired bishop had the solution—telephone link teaching. With amplifiers attached to telephones in the teacher’s and Helen and Vicki’s homes, lessons went airbound.
“The first day was one big giggle,” said Helen. “I felt like someone in the Australian outback, but when we looked outside and saw snow settling on the ground, we were glad to be sitting in the warm house listening to the little box.”

The last story took place later that fall while a family was taking a pleasant, 3 1/2-mile hike to a beautiful lake in the Cascades. As they returned down the trail later that day, their young daughter started falling behind. They weren’t really too concerned as it was a good trail, it was still light, and they had been on similar hikes before. The parents continued down the trail, arriving at the road just a few minutes ahead of their daughter, so they thought. After waiting for more than an hour for her, they became concerned and started back up the trail in search. This started a search that would last three days and cost thousands of dollars and many man-hours.
The third illustration even more effectively points out the value of always carrying a whistle and being trained in its use. The little girl had wandered off the trail while picking flowers and had gotten lost in the process. After wandering around for many hours, she lay down beside a large tree where she remained in shock and exhaustion for two days while searchers walked all around the area looking for her. When she was finally found on the third day, she was only 100 yards from the trail!

Sister Quee and Brother Kargbo both have large families. This is because they include and extend helping hands to other children.
The Welfare & Self-Reliance manager visited with them on their farms as part of the Church’s member-livelihood agricultural project, and they expressed gratitude on how the livelihood project has elevated them to an advanced level of food security.
Because of the extremely large family size, meals were limited to one person per day while other available funds were used for school fees, rent, tithing, medical, and other expenses for daily upkeep.
They shared with the Welfare and Self-Reliance manager that the project support will help them feed their family so they have also planned to assist others who may be in need.

Sheryl Swain, 18, of Carmichael, California, has achieved a unique distinction in her high school. She is the first girl to complete a grueling, three-year program to win her school’s navy blue level of physical achievement. Students all begin with white PE shorts and achieve different colors as they complete each physical feat.
Since the program has been in existence, only 19 boys have finished at the highest level. The program includes feats of strength and endurance such as carrying another student weighing ten pounds less for one mile, swimming underwater for 50 yards, running a mile in under 6 1/2 minutes, remaining afloat in a pool with hands and feet tied for 6 minutes, and climbing a standard-length gym rope in 8 seconds. Of all the events, running the mile in the prescribed time was the most difficult for Sheryl.
Sheryl is Laurel class secretary in her La Sierra Ward, Fair Oaks California Stake.

Some things in life have useful parallels. Losing a mobile phone might help us empathise with someone who loses their laptop but rarely are our experiences exactly the same, and there is always a uniqueness to our emotions, coloured by our attachment to what is lost. When it comes to the death of a spouse, no previous life experience, including the loss of other loved ones, quite prepared me for the overwhelming effects of such an event. But this is my story – a brief overview of how grief affected me and how I tried to manage it. Your experience will differ, but be assured that life soon vanishes away, hence the pressing need to love others and let them know of that love while today lasts.
My beloved wife, Ethel, and I enjoyed 37 years of a wonderfully happy marriage. At least that’s how I saw it. I hope she did too! Even her previous survival of cancer on two occasions and her significantly declining health over three years did not prepare me for what seemed an awful, sudden separation upon her death in 2021.
After her passing, the feelings of grief were intense and devastating. I was very fortunate. I had married an exceptional woman. We had many great shared memories. We had three daughters who lived nearby. I had a supportive Church community. One or two trusted friends were willing listeners, with whom I could share my innermost thoughts – though I felt awkward doing so. Even then, none of these, not even the sum of them, seemed to ease the immeasurable sorrow I felt.
Initially, the grief came in what seemed like never-ending torrents and, as time passed, later became waves (just as painful) that would crash onto me without warning. Bumping into someone, seeing a dress in a shop, hearing a piece of music, watching a grandchild that Ethel had never lived to see – all of these and more would bring on the tears. Nearly four years after Ethel’s departure, the frequency of intense grief has decreased, but the unpredictable onset of weeping for her continues with similar intensity. I wouldn’t have it any other way, though. Love does that to you.
I felt like an incomplete person. Ethel had been my 24/7 support group! Now part of me was missing. As time passed, it only reinforced how settled my past had been. Now I felt disconnected from reality. I was living in some kind of dream, mainly a nightmare, save for the saving, divine light that I felt holding onto me. But even that didn’t erase feelings of not wanting to carry on. A loving bishop visited and said how well I was doing just getting out of bed and getting dressed. That heartened me. Some days I didn’t even manage that.
Some of my confidence was gone. Talking about how I felt was difficult – what if I suddenly burst into tears? I worried about appearing weak. I worried about burdening others with my grief. I sat and worried that I worried too much! My physical existence was severely disrupted too. Going to bed between 1:00 and 2:00 a.m. had become the norm. It seemed that when the rest of my world had gone quiet, I could then fully grieve over my loss. It was my time with Ethel – precious and painful.
I had never received professional counseling before. I had always thought – erroneously – that I should be able to resolve my own problems by myself. But I struggled so much that I took up the offer from a local hospice. The counseling proved helpful, but after five sessions, I felt we had gone as far as we could, and I took a break.
Six months after Ethel died, then at nine months, then at two years, I wrote down my feelings. Keeping a daily journal has been a source of comfort. Between nine and twelve months after Ethel’s passing, I decided to ‘get back out there’ by joining a social group and a travel group. That lasted about a month before I realised my heart wasn’t ready. I felt the impression to attend the temple regularly. Despite the initial pain, this proved a great strength to me.
There was a lot of ‘ice breaking’ – attending the first ward activity alone, the first holiday alone. Despite my best efforts, after eighteen months, I felt I was treading water. A Church friend asked me: "What is your greatest fear?" I answered: "That I will always feel the way I feel now." I have great faith that I will be with Ethel again, but I also knew she would want me to be happy. I had to try to move forward, accepting false starts and setbacks.
I sought more help and contacted a bereavement support group. Six video sessions with a counselor named Emma were transformative. I learned to open up and to be more vulnerable.
The impact of those willing to listen and love me has been significant. The light of human compassion striving to convey the pure love of Christ is a wonderful power.
As time progresses, I still sometimes struggle to understand what I truly feel and want. My relationship with my Heavenly Father and my Saviour has become deeper. The companionship of the Holy Ghost has been a lifeline. Even with this, I sometimes feel lost. But I can learn to wait. I don’t have to make every decision now. Feeling like a ship on the ocean with no visible landmarks doesn’t mean I can’t still sail onward and take bearings as I chart new waters.
At times, there seemed no way out of the pain. Having now experienced some brighter days, I know that there is a way out, a way forward. So, when the clouds engulf me again, I tell myself that there is a way – I just can’t see it yet.
I grieve not only for my own loss but for that of my children. In some ways, that hurts more. I feel helpless that I cannot bring back their mother’s presence. But I can live in a way that honours her. We can laugh and cry together as we cherish the wonderful times we shared.
This has been the most difficult period of my life. I remember that two years after Ethel’s passing, I could say, for the first time, that I felt ‘light and happy.’ That feeling didn’t last a day, but it was evidence of possibilities to come. Sometimes these small mercies carry us through.
No matter what the future holds, I will always love Ethel. I am not looking to ‘move on,’ but I can ‘move forward’ with her still present in my life. Our decision to put our love of God first helped us enter marriage on a firm foundation, and I believe it can help me going forward. I am grateful to the Lord for what I have learned through this unique, challenging journey, and I am grateful for the light of hope I continue to have, both for this life and for a glorious reunion.

One of the Twelve recently shared a story that illustrates this principle. As a priest in high school, he was hanging out with his friends. After they got something to eat, they were driving around when someone suggested they should go to a certain movie. The problem was he knew it was a movie he shouldn’t see. Although he immediately felt pressure and anxiety about the situation, he had planned for this. This was a page straight out of his priesthood playbook.

Taking a deep breath and summoning his courage, he announced, “I’m not interested in that movie. Just drop me off at my house,” which they did. A simple play leading to a victory! Years later, one of the friends with him that night described how this example proved to be a great strength for him to courageously face similar circumstances in his own life.

“Hey, April!” April’s big brother Brad walked into her bedroom with a huge smile on his face. “Ready to get your new racing wheels?” Brad was going to drive April to pick up her wheelchair today.
“Yeah, I guess,” April said. She was glad to be leaving her house at last. She couldn’t believe it had been over two months since her bicycle accident! And the whole time she’d been stuck in a hospital bed in her room.
But she was also nervous about figuring out wheelchairs. She wasn’t allowed to even stand up yet, so she’d need to use one for at least a month. Yuck.
“Maybe we can find one with flames painted on the side,” Brad said. He was still smiling. April tried smiling back, but she still felt sad and a little scared. April prayed silently to feel happier.
The next few hours passed by in a slow, cloudy blur. The people at the medical supply store gave her a boring, plain old black wheelchair. Then they taught her a few things about how to use it. But it was all so complicated. It was so much easier when she could just walk!
Soon they were heading back home. April looked out the car window. It was nice to see big trees and puffy clouds again. But somehow it didn’t make her feel happy like she used to feel before she got hurt.
“Oh, I forgot to mention that I need to buy something at the mall,” Brad said as he turned the car into the mall parking lot. “It shouldn’t take long.”
That seemed strange to April. Why wouldn’t he just go to the mall later on his own?
In the mall parking lot, Brad got the wheelchair out of the car. He pushed April in it for a short way. Then he stopped.
“Ready to give it a go yourself?” Brad asked.
“Um, okay …” April pushed down on the wheels and rolled forward slowly. It was hard!
“This way,” Brad said. “You can do it.” He walked toward the entrance to the mall.
April gripped the wheels uncertainly. She would have to turn the wheelchair. She tried doing what the people at the medical store had taught her, but it took forever.
How was she supposed to get around if she could barely even turn this dumb wheelchair once? Would she ever be her old self again?
Brad held the door open with a mischievous smile. April knew that smile well. What was he planning?
“See that elevator?” Brad said after they got through the doors.
April peered down the long empty hallway in the mall. The elevator was clear at the end.
“Race ya!” Brad said. Then he took off running.
April blinked. Race? How could she race?
But Brad’s laughter sparked something inside her. April started pushing down on her wheels as hard as she could. Soon she was catching up! She couldn’t believe it!
Before she realized it, April started laughing along with Brad. The storefronts passed in a blur as April chased her brother. The whole way they both laughed so hard they could barely breathe.
At the last second, April passed Brad and made it to the elevator first. “I win!” she yelled with a laugh. Brad had probably let her win, but she didn’t mind. She felt great.
“I knew you could do it!” Brad said.
April looked at her big brother’s kind smile. This time she had a smile of her own to match. Brad was right. She could do this. It might not be easy, but she could make this work until she got all the way better.
Thank you, Heavenly Father, she prayed silently. Thank you for giving me such a great family.
“Next time I’ll give you an even bigger head start,” April said. “You’re gonna need it!”

I remember years ago I was visiting a branch of the Church in Savannah, Georgia. I was taken to the Relief Society with my wife for lunch. I said, “My, you have a big Relief Society. How many members do you have in the Savannah Branch?” She said, “Well, about 40 sisters.” I said, “There’s a lot more than 40 here this morning.”

“Yes,” she said, “there are 84 here this morning.”

I checked and found out many were investigators and friends of members, all being “worked” and fellowshipped into the community of the Church. Fellowshipping is particularly effective with many of our part-member families.

The average stake has, say 450 prospective elders. About 60 percent are married to nonmember wives. So that’s about 300 nonmember wives. Now, we also have many member women who have married nonmember husbands—let’s say 150. And so, you have 450 or so part-member families. Add the children and you have another 100. That presents a lot of eligible people to be taught by the full-time and stake missionaries, uniting the families, and helping them get to the temple.

I’m a great believer in the power of teaching in groups. But I would not just toss any of these 450 nonmembers and their partners together without thinking and praying about it and making some divisions, grouping the younger-aged couples together, the middle-aged together, the more elderly together. I would subdivide even further. Just because a person is young or old doesn’t mean he is interested in anyone his age—what about educational and vocational and personal interests? Prayerful grouping and teaching of these families in companionable groups results in marvelous things.

Where I have found this most successful, it was because a member of the stake presidency or a high councilor called and said something like, “John, I know you’re not active in the Church, but I’m just calling a group of men and their wives like you to come over and see me individually. I’d just like to talk to you. Would you mind coming over at such and such a time?” Many come and relatively few are bitter—they’re just spiritually dead, as far as outward signs indicate. I’ve heard that many of them respond and say, “This is the first time in 10 years anyone really asked me to come and talk to them.”

Following the visit, the man and his wife may be invited to associate with one of the groups. And just as in the case of a nonmember family, this is exactly where the great help of the members is needed—in the social transition, in the friendshipping. While the discussions are being given, the following activities have shown themselves to be very effective: (a) do something for the investigating family or part-member family daily; (b) take them to Church meetings and socials now—this week!; (c) for nonmember families, coordinate through the missionaries the visits of the auxiliaries during the first weeks; and for part-member families, coordinate through the home teachers the same visits by auxiliary officers and teachers; (d) arrange appropriate activities with ward members; (e) take the family to a baptismal service; (f) arrange a family home evening—even with the part-member family if it would be appreciated; (g) leave a schedule of Church meetings and tracts—but not all of them at once; (h) help with substitutes for Word of Wisdom problems; (i) fast and pray with them; and (j) for part-member families, arrange visits with the bishops—bishops have converting power.

Elder Richards: My advice to such persons is to show their husbands or wives by the way they live the wonderful influence of the gospel in their lives. They should be better parents and more thoughtful, considerate, and happy companions.

As much as possible, they should practice the teachings of the gospel in their homes and bring its influence into the lives of their children.

Whenever possible, their friends should be from among those who will have a good influence, who will build up respect and admiration for the Church and its teachings through their association.

Without pushing, opportunities should be made for the husband or wife to be taught the gospel. Often, this is most effective when the couple can be part of a group that is being taught. If there are others in the group who are in the same circumstances, this often helps.

Never let the husband or wife feel that he or she is an outsider. The member spouse and the family should help the nonmember to feel that family unity, “oneness,” is important, and hold tight to the belief that the family should be “one” in every way.

Above all, and after all else you can do, remember that the greatest help will come from your Heavenly Father. Pray always and be patient.

But your spouse needs help. Fellowshipping plays a vital part here. It concerns me that some of our stake and ward leaders have not fully understood how important fellowshipping is. I tell you this is an area where every member can make a real contribution.

But you just can’t sit around waiting for someone to come up and ask you to fellowship them. Life is not like that. You’ve got to get involved wherever you can, volunteer to help, and just be alert. That’s one of the reasons the Lord gave us the Holy Ghost—to keep us alert to our opportunities for blessing others, as well as ourselves.

I was in Vernal, Utah, near the Colorado border, and met a sister who had just helped a family of five join the Church. She said she was down at the grocery store and saw this woman having trouble finding groceries. “Can I help?” she asked. After helping her, she asked if the woman was just traveling through. The woman said she and her husband were traveling to Colorado to find work, and our sister said, “Well, why don’t you look around here?”

“Oh we wouldn’t know where to look,” said the woman.

“Well,” our good sister said, “let me help you out. Let’s get your groceries and come on over to our home and maybe I can help your husband meet some people who can help him get a job.”

The sister got on the phone and within an hour or two, the man was on the way out to interview for some jobs. He accepted one of them, working and helping to manage a ranch.

Well, do you think this good Samaritan sister stopped there? I should say not. The family of five had nowhere to stay, and so they were invited to stay at her home that night, where they saw happy family life, blessing of the food, family prayers, night and morning, and all the rest. The man and his wife and three children were most appreciative and were interested in this sister and her family. She said that after they got settled, she’d like to let them know why they were the way they were. A week later, she took the missionaries out to this man and his wife—and the family was baptized and eagerly entered the Church. And through it all, our good sister and others provided a transition into the community.

One of the most difficult aspects of conversion is the investigator’s feeling that he is alone and that he is leaving his old friends and way of life for something new. All members can be actively involved—and need to go out of their way to get involved—in helping others find the Church, find new friends, take persons who are investigating the gospel to socials, meetings, athletic events—everything good and wholesome. Otherwise, the investigators generally fear the awkward sensation of being obvious newcomers and strangers. This is another reason why I like grouping part-member families in compatible groups. By teaching several together, we make it possible for new friendships to develop. Many choice things have happened when a group of sincere part-member families get together to learn about their spouse’s religion—and as they talk and learn and share feelings and as the member spouse bears appropriate testimony, even about his or her life, the Spirit moves across their hearts and wonderful truths are discovered. It works! I see and hear about it all the time.

In our family, we have always been taught to keep the Sabbath day holy. We attend church and try to do other things on Sunday that we think will help us think about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. We write in our journals and read stories from the Friend. Other things, like going to the park or playing sports, we avoid on Sundays.
I was excited to get an invitation to my friend Gordon’s birthday party last year. But when I opened it up, I saw that the party was being held on Sunday. I showed it to my parents but didn’t even ask if I could go. I said, “I can’t go to his party because it’s on Sunday.” I was disappointed to miss it but knew I was making the right choice.
My mom phoned Gordon’s mom to tell her that I couldn’t come. Gordon’s mom apologized for having the party on a Sunday. The very next day she wanted to talk to Mom while they were waiting to pick us up from school. She said they used to go to their church and that she believed in prayer. This led to lots of opportunities to share the gospel with Gordon’s family. They haven’t joined the Church, but they still show some interest in it and understand more about what we believe. My mom said that if I had not made the right choice about keeping the Sabbath day holy, we probably never would have been able to talk to them so much about the gospel. They respect our values, and this year they had Gordon’s birthday party on a Saturday rather than a Sunday.

This past summer my wife and I were again blessed to be with President and Sister Kimball and other General Authorities and their wives at area conferences in Scandinavia and Europe. Following the closing session in Copenhagen, Denmark, we all visited a cathedral referred to as the Dome. Within this great edifice are the best-loved works of Denmark’s greatest sculptor, Bertel Thorvaldsen—his original Christus and the Twelve Apostles. The imposing statue of Christ stands in an alcove at the front of the cathedral beyond an altar. Standing in order along the two sides of the cathedral are the lifelike statues of the apostles, with Paul replacing the betrayer Judas Iscariot. As we looked at those beautiful works of art we noted that Peter was sculptured with large keys in his hands; John is holding scriptures. Others of the Twelve are shown with identifying symbols indicating, for example, the manner in which they earned a living or how they were martyred. President Kimball thoughtfully studied each statue.
As we were ready to leave the cathedral, the Danish caretaker, a man about sixty years of age, was standing near the door awaiting our departure. President Kimball shook his hand, thanked him for his kindness in letting us visit the cathedral. Then the president began an explanation of the church established by Jesus Christ and of its importance to us. All those present gathered near to be taught by the prophet.
He began in simple words which went something like this: “My dear friend, the man who created these statues was surely inspired of the Lord. The beauty and majesty of the Christus are wonderful. While Thorvaldsen was doing his work here, in 1821 to 1844 Joseph Smith was doing his work in America. Thorvaldsen didn’t have the gospel as did Joseph Smith, but he had the Spirit. He must have been inspired to create these statues of Christ and the apostles. He was trying to bring them to life.”
Gathering President Tanner, Elder Monson, and Elder Packer closer to him, the president continued, “We are living apostles of the Lord Jesus Christ. There are Twelve Apostles and three others who are the presidency of the Church. We hold the real keys, as Peter did, and we use them every day. They are in use constantly.” Then the president introduced me. “This is a real, live seventy,” he said. “You will recall that the Savior called His Twelve Apostles and His seventy. He sent the seventy two by two before His face into every city into which He Himself should come to prepare the way before Him. We can give you the true gospel of Jesus Christ.”
What a thrilling spiritual feeling to hear the prophet bear witness of his own calling and to have so graphically illustrated the importance of living apostles. As beautifully and masterfully done as the statues were, they were only marble and could do no more than remind us of the real priesthood leaders which they represented. How blessed we all felt to be present with a living prophet and apostles of the Lord Jesus Christ. Brethren, we must be more than “marble.” We must follow the prophet’s lead and become “living examples” of Christ—bearers—living carriers of His message of salvation to those about us.

A group of sisters in Caracas, Venezuela, acted with compassion when they visited a nursing home as part of a service project. They took cookies and a drink to share with the women there. But when they saw the women—with disheveled hair and nearly without clothing, slumped in chairs with expressionless faces—they felt what the women must be feeling and acted immediately. They gathered clothing and helped dress the women. Then they cleaned faces and bodies and combed hair. After bringing dignity to these women, they held hands with them, talked with them, and shared their refreshments.

Years ago my spry 96-year-old neighbor, Alice, who also raised sheep, became ill during lambing season, so I offered to do her night lambing. When I entered her lambing shed my first night “on duty,” Alice’s nearly 100 ewes were peacefully bedded down for the night. Yet when I appeared, they immediately sensed a stranger in their midst. Terrified, they instantly sought safety by huddling together in a far corner (see v. 5).
This continued for several nights. No matter how quietly I entered, the sheep panicked and fled. I spoke soothingly to the newborn lambs and ewes as I tended them. By the fifth night they no longer stirred as I worked among them. They had come to recognize my voice and trust me.
Sometime later I told Alice I would feed her dozen or so bum lambs their bottles. (A bum lamb is one whose mother has died or cannot produce enough milk.) Imitating Alice, I called to her lambs, “Come, BaBa! Come, BaBa!” I expected the lambs to hungrily stampede me as they did her. But not a single lamb even glanced up. Alice then stepped out her kitchen door and called. Hearing her voice, they eagerly rushed toward her, clamoring for their milk.
Intrigued, Alice and I conducted an experiment. Standing in my corral, Alice mimicked my call: “Here, lamby, lamby! Here, lamby, lamby!” and received no response whatsoever. But when I called with the exact same words, my sheep quickly surrounded me. Even though the words we used to summon the sheep were identical, our unfamiliar voices went unheeded. The sheep loyally heard only their true shepherd (see v. 4).
John 10 distinguishes a shepherd from a sheepherder. A shepherd, whose sheep are his own, has loving concern for their safety. In contrast, a sheepherder is merely the “hireling” and “careth not” (v. 13). The parable also teaches that while the hireling flees and deserts his sheep (see v. 12), the shepherd willingly lays down his life for his sheep (see v. 11). This is certainly true of our Good Shepherd—our Savior, Jesus Christ—who lovingly gave His life for us (see vv. 15, 17–18).
To me these experiences confirmed one of the critical messages of the parable: striving to personally know our Good Shepherd and to readily recognize His voice will prevent our mistakenly following the hireling. By faithfully heeding the voice of our Good Shepherd—and none other—we will be guided to eternal safety.

“Come on, Fynn. It’s time to go!” Johan said.
Fynn’s brother, Johan, was waiting impatiently at the front door. He didn’t want to be late for school.
Fynn frowned. He didn’t want to go to school. His family had just moved to a new house. It was his first year at school, and he hadn’t made any friends at school yet. He missed his old friends.
“I’m scared!” Fynn said, running to his mother. “Why do I have to go to school?”
Fynn’s mother gave him a hug. “It’s going to be OK. Let’s say a prayer,” she said. “There’s always time to pray.”
They knelt down and asked Heavenly Father to help Fynn. Then Fynn and his brother went to school. The day went a little better.
Every morning after that, Fynn knelt down and said a prayer asking Heavenly Father for help.
Slowly, things got better. Fynn made a friend, and he wasn’t scared anymore. After a while, Fynn started liking school.
One day Fynn and his brother were walking to school, and Fynn felt happy. He noticed the sun shining. He thought about all the fun things he was learning. Suddenly, he stopped walking.
“I forgot something!” he said to Johan. Fynn ran back to their house.
His mother looked worried when he ran inside.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I forgot to pray!” Fynn said. He knelt down. He wanted to thank Heavenly Father for helping him.
After ending his prayer, he gave his mom a hug. “There’s always time to pray!” he said.
Fynn smiled. His mom smiled. And as Fynn ran to catch up with his brother, he thought maybe Heavenly Father was smiling too.

There are abundant examples of successful youth leadership occurring minute by minute all over the world. Let me give you just one example.
I met Matt Andersen, a teachers quorum president whose father was serving as a mission president in Mexico. When Matt was set apart as the quorum president, he was the only member of the teachers quorum attending church in his ward. Young President Matt Andersen was learning a new language so he could be an effective missionary. Going forward with faith, courage, and confidence gained at home and in the deacons quorum, he determined to use his keys of presidency to bless the members of his quorum and their families. He immediately asked for a list of quorum members from the ward clerk, practiced his Spanish, and with a prayer in his heart called the one boy who was listed with a telephone number. He said, “¡Omar: Tú, Iglesia, Hoy!” Or in English, “Omar! You, Church, Today!” Just the basic message!
The miracle is that Omar came to church that day, and soon thereafter so did his mother and sister. Our young quorum president, Matt Andersen, then invited the bishop to drive him, translate, and together visit two other boys whose names were on the list but without telephone numbers. His keys of presidency, the ministering of angels, and the powers of heaven combined. The result was that these two boys also came to church and formed the new teachers quorum presidency. Other boys and their families also returned to the blessings of the gospel and the priesthood.

I remember feeling uncomfortable as I learned in college about the lives of great artists. It seemed like the truly memorable and remarkable ones had become great artists by neglecting their family and sacrificing their sanity. Great artists painted on Christmas morning while their kids opened presents. One was married six times. Another cut off his ear and sent it to his loved ones. And another even killed someone! I started to wonder if becoming a great artist while also being a great wife and mother (all while keeping my sanity!) was even possible.
My professors taught that if we really wanted to become great, we would have to make sacrifices for it. We would have to work harder than anyone else. We would have to put art first in our lives. My mind would often question, “But if an artist kept the commandments, put first things first, and had the Spirit of the Lord to direct their work, couldn’t they become just as great and possibly even greater?” This question stayed with me throughout my studies.
By the time my husband and I graduated, we had been married for a year. Elder Russell M. Nelson (at the time, he was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles) came to speak at our graduation. A luncheon followed, and only 16 students were invited to attend. Oddly enough, both my husband I were selected to be there. When the discussion was opened for questions and answers. I raised my hand, looked Elder Nelson in the eye, and expressed my concerns about being both an artist and a mother. I had worked so hard to build my talents in school, and I wanted to continue to work hard and improve, but I also knew that motherhood took precedence. Was there a way to do both? Elder Nelson’s eyes sparkled as he replied, “Absolutely!” He encouraged me to improve upon my talents and to pray to Heavenly Father for help in knowing how I could do both and that with Him, I would be able to do things I once thought impossible. I took that advice to heart.
My husband and I now have four kids. We’ve learned the dance and the juggle of parenthood. In the beginning, I began most days at 4:00 a.m. to get some painting in before my kids woke up. I tried to paint six days a week, even if some days only allowed 30 minutes. I started each painting session with prayer, knowing I wasn’t much without the Lord’s help. I prayed not only to be enabled in my art but also to know what was most important that day and committed to putting His purposes first. Progress wasn’t fast, but it was steady.
Fast forward 12 years from my graduation day. I was having a moment of discouragement. Life seemed too full. Motherhood had been more challenging than I had anticipated. I sat at my easel crying, wondering if I would ever really be able to become the great artist I had dreamed of being. I felt impressed to pull my old journal off the shelf, and I turned to my entry on April 30, 2006, the day after my graduation. I had totally forgotten my remarkable experience with President Nelson! Somehow the whirlwind of life had almost eroded it from my memory. There before me were words from the current prophet, “Absolutely!” The tears turned to ones of gratitude as I looked back at all I had been able to accomplish since that time, and I also looked forward with hope.
A few months later, I got a call from one of the Ensign magazine’s designers, asking if they could use one of my paintings on the inside cover of the November 2018 general conference issue. I was floored! Growing up, the first thing I had always done when getting the Church magazines was to peruse them for paintings. Now one of my pieces would be in there! Then, when I was told that they wanted to pair my painting with words from President Nelson, I could see the hand of God encouraging me forward.
I still have a long way to go on my artistic journey, but I’m so thankful for President Nelson’s hope in the Lord and in us. I’m thankful for his optimism and his confidence. I know that as we exercise faith in the Lord we will be able to do great things, even things we once thought impossible. “For with God nothing shall be impossible” (Luke 1:37).

I have a friend who was blessed with a beautiful family and a promising career. This changed when an illness left him unable to work, which was followed by a divorce. The years since have been difficult, but his love for his children and the covenants he has made with God have sustained him. One day he learned that his former spouse had remarried and had requested a cancellation of their temple sealing. He was troubled and confused. He sought peace and understanding in the house of the Lord. The day after his visit, I received the following message from him:
“I had an amazing experience in the temple last night. I think it was obvious that I still held quite a bit of resentment. … I knew that I must change, and I have been praying all week to do so. … Last night in the temple I literally felt the Spirit remove the resentment from my heart. … It was such a relief to be freed from it. … An ominous physical burden bearing down on me has been lifted.”
While he still has his challenges, my friend treasures that experience in the house of the Lord, where the liberating power of the love of God has helped him to feel closer to God, more optimistic about life, and less anxious about his future.

I’ll admit it—I was suddenly scared. I stood at the back of the room as the workshop was about to begin. There were 56 youths and a handful of adults all seating themselves for the workshop. Although everyone seemed to be getting along fine, I couldn’t understand a thing that was going on. They were all deaf. I didn’t know sign language. And I was supposed to interview them. Help!
Sally Todd, director of the BYU Workshop for Deaf Youth, walked in the room and spotted me, looking somewhat forlorn and bewildered. She introduced herself, and we sat down as the workshop was about to start.
I didn’t know what the opening song was or what the exact words of the prayer were, but I began to feel something. The students acted so excited to be there. Whenever a question was asked, hands flew up, waving impatiently. Laughter came easily. There was an excitement for life that made me want to be near them.
I joined. It didn’t take long to join them; I wanted to share in their love for life. I put my pencil and paper down, forgot about interviewing, and decided to just be their friend for a while. When it was time to eat, I planted myself in the middle of the group and tried to communicate. Many could read my lips and some have partial hearing, so it wasn’t too hard. But once in a while, right in the middle of conversations, I would be stumped. So I would motion for them to wait a second, and then run and get an interpreter.
Willingly they aided in my efforts to learn finger spelling and all the simpler signs in just ten minutes. “Oh, that’s a Y. Now what was an S again?” They smiled at my excitement when I learned how to spell my name, say “I care,” “I love you,” and other phrases.
Before long they came up to me, tapped me on the elbow, and just started talking or signing or pantomiming. It was, at times, like a game of charades, but we were communicating! They told me about their dorm activities, the humorous skits they had performed that morning, where they were from, their schools, their majors—just about anything. When I couldn’t understand them, they would tease me about my handicap.
As the afternoon progressed, I forgot that I was supposed to be getting information and quotes for a story. It had slipped my mind. We sat around in a circle in the shade, swishing the flies away from our food, and talked and laughed. Suddenly I looked around and realized that we had become friends.
I learned. This group who sat around me had taught me that although different roads are taken, the goal is the same for all—to be His witnesses.
My world, too, had broadened. Realizing that I would be leaving soon, I felt reluctant to say good-bye. I hate good-byes anyway, and this one was going to be hard; they’d given me a new insight and understanding about a faithful people.
As we knelt in prayer, I watched as solemn faces with innocent eyes gratefully gave thanks.