Gospel Story Finder

As young women, you have the privilege of working on projects as part of the Young Womanhood Recognition Award. Anna Nichols of Centerville, Utah, writes about a special experience she has had:
“I did a Laurel project last year that has brought me closer to my grandma whom I never knew. She passed away when my mom was about five years old from a severe type of cancer. My mom has a collection of old slides and letters that she had kept. I went through these and picked out pictures of her and her family and letters that she had written to her sister sharing her feelings and thoughts before she died.
“I put all these in a scrapbook in memory of her and I gave it to my grandpa. To watch his face as he turned each page was the most awesome feeling as he told me the stories of each picture. We cried together. I could tell that he misses her so much and how with this book she is partly back into his life again.
“Because of this book I have a personal relationship with my grandma. I feel her spirit with me. I know she has protected me and helped me when I am in need. Now when I go and visit my grandpa we always talk about her and share stories. I always look forward to this time I get to spend with him.”

I well remember one of my first semesters at the university. I was taking a physics course and had dutifully attended each session, taking copious notes. There were times I had actually picked up the text and read portions of it, and so I felt somewhat confident as I walked into class the day of my first midterm. That was a memorable experience for me, and one I am not likely to soon forget. I sat down at my desk with the exam and read through the questions on the first page, and then the following pages. I just sat there dazed for a few moments, unable to answer any question, when finally a brilliant thought occurred to me. I got up, walked to the back and checked the number on the door with the hope that I had accidentally walked into the wrong room. That hope quickly died as I immediately realized that I was indeed in the correct room, on the correct day, with the correct test in front of me. Sadly, as I returned to my seat with pencil in hand and an untouched answer sheet next to the test, I had to come to grips with the fact that there was hardly a question that evoked even an inkling of familiarity for me. So, I did the only thing I could, under the circumstances. I panicked and burst into tears, and in the end gave a much less than stellar performance on the exam.

My father was a professor at that same university, and he highly valued both education and hard work. He often used to tell us children, You can do anything in this world you want if you are willing to pay the price. And if you really want it, the price will be worth it. I really wanted to not fail physics, but it was clear that the price I would have to pay would be much more than I had given to my studies in high school. I moped and worried, got angry and then depressed. Finally, I paid the price meaning in this case, I put in the kind of hard work a college physics class demanded and, although definitely not the class star, I am happy to report that in the end I passed the course.

That was actually a critical point in my life as I had to acknowledge that no matter how smart or talented or attractive or humble or spiritual we are, there will always be things that create challenges for us. And actually, that seems to be an essential part of the Lord's plan for us that we are tried and tested in ways that lead to growth experiences. There are just a lot of things in life that are hard, and we can be defeated by them or we can make the decision to not give up, to hang in there and keep moving forward towards our goals.

The institute also spreads its influence through a graduate scholarship program. Hector Solorio was one of Mexico’s top agronomy graduates in 1983. After receiving his bachelor’s degree, he gave up a graduate school scholarship to serve a mission. Since completing his mission, he is attending graduate school at BYU under a Benson Institute and Agricultural Economics scholarship. “These young people will return to their countries to become leaders in government and leaders in agriculture,” predicts Brother Brimhall. “We would like to sponsor hundreds more such students.”

Nearly one year ago, our daughter Alisa died. She had struggled with cancer for almost eight years, with several surgeries, many different treatments, exciting miracles, and deep disappointments. We watched her physical condition deteriorate as she came to the close of her mortal life. It was excruciating to see that happen to our precious daughter—that bright-eyed little baby who had grown up to be a talented, wonderful woman, wife, and mother. I thought my heart would break.
Last year at Easter time, a little over a month before she passed away, Alisa wrote: “Easter is a reminder of all that I hope for myself. That someday I will be healed and someday I will be whole. Someday I won’t have any metal or plastic inside of me. Someday my heart will be free of fear and my mind free of anxieties. I am not praying that this happens soon, but I am so glad I truly believe in a beautiful afterlife.”
Each of us has physical, mental, and emotional limitations and weaknesses. These challenges, some of which seem so intractable now, will eventually be resolved. None of these problems will plague us after we are resurrected. Alisa researched survival rates for persons with the type of cancer she had, and the numbers were not encouraging. She wrote: “But there is a cure, so I’m not scared. Jesus has already cured my cancer, and yours. … I will be better. I’m glad I know this.”
I long to see my mother again and feel her gentle touch and look into her loving eyes. I want to see my father’s smile and hear his laugh and see him as a resurrected, perfect being. With an eye of faith, I picture Alisa completely beyond the reach of any earthly troubles or any sting of death—a resurrected, perfected Alisa, victorious and with a fulness of joy.
A few Easters ago, she wrote simply: “Life through His name. So much hope. Always. Through everything. I love Easter to remind me.”

A short answer such as “A chaste life makes me happy; I know it’s the way God wants us to live” will probably suffice in some circumstances. But if you are talking with a good friend, you might want to share some insights on sexual purity found in the pamphlet For the Strength of Youth.

When I wasn’t able to change my friends’ opinion with words, I tried to do so with my example. Many times I had to refrain from participating in their activities. Although I was left to myself, I knew I was doing the right thing.
Now some of my friends have had unpleasant experiences, and some of them are starting to live this important law.Linda López Fierro, 16,Isidro Ayora Ward, Guayaquil Ecuador East Stake

I have been learning an important lesson about living with uncertainty and vulnerability over the past several years. When my parents divorced thirteen years ago, I experienced an earth-shattering shift in my faith. Although I was already an adult, this shift in the structure of my family was difficult. Suddenly nothing seemed like it was quite right anymore. Prior to the divorce, I was already in a pretty fragile place emotionally and spiritually. I had graduated from college and was working on my master’s degree, but I did not yet feel settled. I felt like I was existing in some no-man’s-land. I felt lost and unsure of what I should do. The divorce amplified that feeling, as the family structure I was accustomed to had disappeared. This was a significant trial in my life, and throughout this experience I began to question my faith.

In particular, I struggled significantly with testimony meetings. I would listen to the testimonies of others, and almost without exception they contained the phrase “I know”: “I know that God lives,” “I know the Book of Mormon is true”—I know, I know, I know. But the problem was that I didn’t know. I believed in God, I believed the Book of Mormon was scripture, I believed that Jesus died for me, and I believed in prophets, but I could not say with confidence that I knew—at least not the way that it seemed everyone else could. I was deep in the grasp of uncertainty.

I honestly believe that some people, maybe even lots of people, have received personal knowledge of the things they bear testimony of. But for me, this knowledge did not come. I have had a handful of powerful revelatory experiences in my life, and because of this I knew that God was aware of me and that He was guiding my life. But this seemed so much less than the confident testimonies I heard from others.

I went through a period of years feeling uncomfortable at church, feeling that I didn’t belong. There were periods when it really felt so much easier to be anywhere but church. During this period I was blessed with good friends and supportive family who helped me navigate. It didn’t happen right away, but over time I came to the conclusion that the only way to manage this uncertainty was to walk through it. So I began to explore and to study. I opened the scriptures and I read the words of the prophets, but I also read other good books on religious topics. I began to have whispered conversations in safe spaces where I could express my uncertainty. Through my study and conversations, I learned that my experience was more common than rare.

During this period I encountered the following scripture in Alma 32:16–18, which reads:
Therefore, blessed are they who humble themselves without being compelled to be humble; or rather, in other words, blessed is he that believeth in the word of God, and is baptized without stubbornness of heart, yea, without being brought to know the word, or even compelled to know, before they will believe.
Yea, there are many who do say: If thou wilt show unto us a sign from heaven, then we shall know of a surety; then we shall believe.
Now I ask, is this faith? Behold, I say unto you, Nay; for if a man knoweth a thing he hath no cause to believe, for he knoweth it. [Emphasis added]

I grew up in the Church; I attended four years of early-morning seminary and four years of religion classes at BYU. I could recite to you this and other definitions of faith, but before this time I had not separated belief and faith as being different from a sure knowledge. This scripture witnessed to me that it was absolutely okay to be unsure and still choose to believe. This was the essence of faith.

Later in my journey I was introduced to Doctrine and Covenants 46:14: “To [some] it is given to believe on their words, that they also might have eternal life if they continue faithful” (emphasis added). I was familiar with this section, but somehow I had always missed this. To believe is a spiritual gift—just as is knowledge gained through the Holy Ghost, mentioned in verse 13 of the same section.

When I began this account, I said I was learning a lesson about living with uncertainty and vulnerability. Over the last five years or so, I have become increasingly comfortable with exercising faith in uncertainty. But this is still a process. I am learning that these feelings of vulnerability, though uncomfortable, help me to be more in touch with the Spirit, and as I continue to walk through this vulnerability, I am growing closer to my Savior.

President Kimball’s life has been one full of service to the Church. From 1914 to 1916 he served in the Central States Mission, after which he attended the University of Arizona. He served as clerk and counselor to the president of the St. Joseph Stake and as president of the Mt. Graham Stake. Then in July 1943 he received a phone call from Salt Lake City that stunned him and changed his life. When President J. Reuben Clark, Jr., informed President Kimball over the telephone of his call to the Council of the Twelve, he was so overwhelmed that he blurted out, “Not me, Brother Clark! You can’t mean that!”
When his son had told him there was a phone call from Salt Lake City, he had had a premonition it was about a high Church calling, but he didn’t think it would be the apostleship. Later he said of the experience, “My heart pounded fiercely. I was virtually speechless. I felt as though the sky had fallen in—this seemed utterly impossible.” The Lord had chosen him to be an apostle through his mouthpiece on the earth, President Heber J. Grant. President Kimball was ordained an apostle and set apart as a member of the Council of the Twelve October 7, 1943.
Speaking of that call President Kimball has said, “In these long weeks since July eighth, I can tell you that I have been overwhelmed and have felt that I was unable to carry on this great work; that I was unworthy; that I was incapable because of my weaknesses and my limitations. I have felt many times that I was up against a blank wall. And in that interim I have been out in the desert and in high mountains alone, apart, and have poured out my soul to God. I have taken courage, from one or two scriptures which constantly came to my mind and of which people continued to remind me. One was from Paul and as I felt so foolish, small, and weak, I remembered that he said: ‘Because the foolishness of God is wiser than men; and the weakness of God is stronger than men. For ye see your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men, after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble are called: But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise: and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; … that no flesh should glory in his presence.’ (1 Cor. 1:25–29.)
“When my feeling of incompetence wholly overwhelmed me, I remembered the words of Nephi when he said: ‘… I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commanded them.’ (1 Ne. 3:7.) I want to tell you that I lean heavily on these promises, that the Lord will strengthen and give me growth and fit and qualify me for this great work. I have seen the Lord qualify men. In my church experiences I have helped to make many bishops. I have seen them grow and prosper and become great and mighty men in the church; men who were weak and men who were foolish, and they became strong and confounded the wise, and so I rely upon that promise of the Lord that he will strengthen and empower me that I may be able to do this work to which I have been called.” (Improvement Era, November 1943, p. 702.)

The first time I felt the appeal of family history occurred during the Christmas break of my freshman year at BYU. One evening, as the rest of the family boisterously played a board game in the living room, I found myself seated at the kitchen table with my mom and older sister. The conversation soon turned to relatives, particularly my mother’s dad and his parents.

My great-grandparents, Orla and Roger, died in their 20s, leaving my grandfather and his brother in the care of Roger’s family. After Orla’s death, her father, Robert, died of appendicitis. A short time later, her mother fell, cracked her skull, and suffered several strokes, becoming bedridden. Orla’s oldest sisters, Thelma and Ena, then carried the full burden of supporting the family—a difficult task for two young, unmarried women in the late 1920s.

It was all so fascinating to learn about people I felt connected to but had never met. I was amazed by the trials my family had faced. Hearing it all made my own problems seem so small in comparison.

I have a brother named Matt.
I always thought of my younger brother as competition. When he was a baby, I played games in which points were earned if I could make him cry. In all those years of punching, growing, and playing I never realized he’d get bigger than me. But Matt knew, and he savored the day when his physical attributes could overcome his tyrannical older sister.
In time Matt did outgrow me, but in more ways than height and strength.
Matt and I attended the same high school, and with only a year’s difference between us, we were often placed in the same classes. We pretended not to know each other. Our public arguing brought out our stubborn personalities for all to see, and teachers who had a class with both Marriotts seemed to contemplate early retirement.
So when I announced I intended to run for student-body president, Matt flew into an understandable rage. “You’re going to humiliate me!” he yelled, rolling his eyes.
In the weeks that followed, I had campaign parties, made posters, and handed out candy with my name boldly printed on it. All too soon, the day for the speeches arrived. I left my class early and placed a flyer on each chair in the auditorium. I was alone when my brother burst in with a gang of his friends.
“Oh, no,” I thought. “Not now.”
But Matt had other ideas. He walked up to me, patted me on the back, and said, “You can do it, Paige.” I felt like a prize fighter. But for once I wasn’t going to fight my brother. He was in my corner helping.
Later, when the speeches were completed, and the flyers and crumpled candy wrappers remained where students once sat, I started to clean up the mess. After my speech I was nervous and desperately needed some reassurance. Then Matt reappeared. He grabbed a handful of garbage and stuffed it into the sack I was holding.
“Paige.” He placed his arm around my shoulders. “It’s okay if you embarrassed the family name. I’ll still vote for you.” It was his way of saying I did all right.
It was an act of kindness I will never forget. As we stood in the auditorium that afternoon, I realized my brother had outgrown me in many ways, and one of them was love.

I am honored to speak to you today. However, I am somewhat humbled by this opportunity. This reminds me of an instance about 20 years ago, when I responded to an editorial that I heard on WGN-Radio in Chicago. Shortly after sending a written response to the station, I received a call indicating that they would like me to come in and tape my response for broadcast. Luckily I wore a suit to the station, because when I arrived, I was informed that the taping would take place on the set for the evening news program, with a teleprompter. It hadn’t crossed my mind that WGN was both a radio and a TV station and that my editorial response was to be televised. Needless to say, I was a little nervous.

Marie Purcell, of the Massey Park Ward in the Auckland New Zealand Papatoetoe Stake, experienced the joy of this work when she and her parents sealed her beloved grandfather, Afele Schwenke, to his family—a blessing he did not receive in his lifetime despite his faithfulness and service to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Years later, while reviewing family history records, Marie and her parents discovered that her mother’s sealing to her parents had not been recorded. Marie immediately felt a strong spiritual prompting—not only did her mother’s sealing need to be done, but also her grandfather Afele’s. His face came to her mind, and she knew that temple work needed to be completed.

Trusting this prompting, the family scheduled a sealing appointment. However, when they arrived at the temple, Marie realized they were not fully prepared with the required documents. They proceeded with other ordinances, but in the sealing room, both Marie and her mother felt a distinct sadness at leaving the ordinance undone.

Determined to finish the work, Marie and her parents scheduled another appointment. On April 6, 2024, they returned to the temple, fully prepared. Marie and her father would stand as proxies for her grandparents.

When the sealer called her mother’s name, a deep feeling of peace washed over them. Marie remembers tears flowing as they completed the ordinance.

Through the Atonement of Jesus Christ and the sacred work of the temple, Afele Schwenke and his wife, Soala, received the blessings of eternity.

As saviours on Mount Zion, we can offer our ancestors the same gift of exaltation Christ offers to us. Reflecting on the experience of sealing her grandparents, Marie shared, “I testify that the joy that comes from participating through family history brings eternal happiness.”

“I have felt those on the other side of the veil through this great and marvelous work. And I know that they embrace with excitement receiving these sacred ordinances, as I embrace with joy on this side of the veil uniting my eternal family.”

The sealing power reminded her that the blessings of the Atonement extend beyond the veil. As Doctrine and Covenants 128:22 invites, “Shall we not go on in so great a cause?”

Hanging high on a mountain, a glacier peeked down through the clouds as the line of girls crawled along the glacial moraine. Walking was strenuous, so it was a relief to cross a snowfield and clamber up a slope to a wide shelf to camp. Shallow soil posed a problem in setting up tents, as Mary and Jeanie discovered. They arose in the dark of night, amid rain and wind, to repeg their collapsed tent. Brrrrr!

Spirits were high as we went to sleep, wondering if the pass was as steep as it looked in the pictures we’d seen. The next morning we ate breakfast in fog and wind. As we started to take tents down, rain descended. Standing in the wind, shivering and wet, we were eager to be on the move.

“I wonder how bad the pass is? We have a mile to go before we’re over. Let’s hit it!”

The mile took over three hours of hard climbing over rocks and across snowfields. The wind became a cold river of air pushing rain up the pass. The uncompromising trail went straight up into a world of swirling gray clouds and immobile black granite. It was impossible to stay warm during rest stops and impossible to climb steadily without resting.

Colleen pushed herself so hard she finally collapsed just before the summit. Sweating had caused her to become chilled from the wind. Brother Otte carried her pack, and, dressed in down clothing for warmth, she went on.

“I don’t think I’ll ever make it. Just as it seems we must be at the top, there’s another ridge to climb!”

“I wish there were some trees to break the wind. I’m so cold.”

Finally the vertical became horizontal, and we were at the summit. Everyone was cold, wet, and tired as we stopped for lunch just over the top of the pass in Canada. We rested at a stone crib that was used as a support for the old aerial tram cables that had lifted supplies over the pass during gold rush days. Girls took turns holding up a poncho, forming a windbreak for those who most needed to rest.

“I’m so cold. The wind blows right into my bones.”

After a much-needed cup of hot soup, the girls trudged on, moving as fast as possible in an effort to stay warm. Fog and rain made following trail markings risky and prayer a necessity.

“Where’s the trail? I can’t see the markings.”

“I don’t know. Just try to follow boot tracks.”

Descending slowly, the trail covered masses of ice, mini-glaciers of bright blue with frigid streams of melted water running beneath the caps of white. We didn’t take time in the punishing wind to fully appreciate the beauty of the high country, but it was too overwhelming to miss entirely.

“Look at those tiny bell flowers. They are such a delicate, waxy white; it’s incredible they survive!”

Alive with flowers and small plants, the high country was dotted with basins of water that would exist a few short weeks or a month until the winter snows began again.

Gazing miles and miles down the treeless trail of rock and tundra, we had the exhilarating impression of being at the very top of the world. We followed the river past a series of crystal-clear lakes until the tree line began again a few miles before Lindeman Camp. We walked along the brim of a deep gorge and looked far down to the violently boiling water, scarcely able to imagine the quiet of winter when the land would be ice-locked. The gorge had been used as a highway during winter by the gold rush stampeders.

Lindeman, now the site of a four-bunk cabin built by the Canadians, was once a sprawling city of tents. Eager to push on to the goldfields, many people lost their lives falling through the lake ice in spring. Men suffering from gold fever would rather risk their lives on rotten ice than take the extra time and effort to go overland.

The last group reached camp at 10:30 P.M. after stopping on the trail to rest and cook dinner. A mile from camp an “emergency squad” met the stragglers and helped carry their packs. Somehow 18 people were squeezed into the four-bunk cabin.

The last day of hiking was a forced march as we pushed hard to make our train reservations at Bennett. Stopping for a brief rest, Colleen, with tears in her eyes, called for her counselor.

“I just can’t go on. I can’t make it. My ankle hurts so bad.” “Would you like a blessing?”

“Brother Otte, we need your priesthood.”

After the blessing the pain persisted, but Colleen was blessed with strength and a new determination and was able to continue hiking.

Rest stops became more and more frequent as we tried to keep the line together. Finally the counselors decided to send the faster girls ahead to catch the train. We had 20 confirmed reservations and ten standby seats. If we missed the train, it might take a week to get all the girls back to Whitehorse, and we were almost out of food.

The trail bounced up, then down, up, then down, crossing boggy areas and following low ridges along Lake Lindeman, which could be seen a mile away through the primeval pine trees. Unfortunately we were concentrating so hard on putting one foot in front of the other that we missed much of the beauty. The last few miles were sprinkled with sandy patches that made hiking especially tiring.

Toward the end of the seven weary miles, a train whistle blew. Tired girls almost broke into a run, and it was hard restraining them to the pace.

“There’s the old church! We’re here!”

We were in time for a good meal at the station before the train left for Whitehorse.

Now, around the fire in Whitehorse after a Sunday of worship and a delicious meal with the Whitehorse Saints, we were reliving the experience one more time before starting home the next morning. As the fire died away, the chill went unnoticed in the warmth of the Spirit. A theme of priesthood and prayer threaded the testimonies.

“The last day as we were rushing to meet the train, we stopped at a rock outcropping to rest, and Brother Woolley asked me to say a prayer. As I knelt upon the earth, tears streamed down my face and an overwhelming feeling of sweet humility filled my being. I felt an overpowering desire to always be close to my Heavenly Father and live so I would please him. The words poured from my mouth and I prayed publicly for the first time in my life by the Spirit. I was prompted to ask for strength and that we might make the train on time. We did. I also asked for a special blessing upon the girls behind us. It was incredible, but they reached the station only 15 minutes to a half hour behind us. I’m so very thankful I had this camping experience and the opportunity to rely so heavily on the Lord.”

“The Lord’s blessing was upon us all through the trip,” began another testimony. “Although the weather was bad, it made us depend upon the Lord. They asked us if we felt we could hike to Jackson County, Missouri, and several girls said yes. This hike has been a proving ground and will be a source of strength for all of us the rest of our lives. As we look back on the Chilkoot Trail, we’ll know that with the Lord’s help, we can do anything.”

Excited by their newfound religion, Jaanus and his friend Urmas Raavk decided they must spread the gospel. They spoke with at least 50 people on the streets and knocked on 20 doors. They tried to talk like missionaries, explaining the story of Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. The missionaries later asked Jaanus, “Why did you do that? Who gave you the authority to act as missionaries?”
“We know from reading in the Bible that everybody must be a missionary,” Jaanus answered. “I already have a strong desire to serve. It is hard to wait until I get a mission call.”
The elders smiled, “In opening this new mission, we need to be very careful and only work through referrals to members’ friends,” they explained. President Steven R. Mecham of the Finland Helsinki East Mission said that this proved to be important in getting the Church accepted. Proselyting needed to be handled carefully so as not to offend. From then on, Jaanus and Urmas worked with the missionaries.

It wasn’t until after my first business venture broke down and my second one burned to the ground that I wondered if I would be able to take my fiancée, Beny, to the temple. We had heard that getting there would be a trial of faith, but when we made temple marriage our goal, we had no idea how thoroughly our faith would be tested.

Beny and I met in our native Panama after serving missions. Because of the laws in Panama, couples who wanted to start their married lives in the temple were married civilly just before traveling to the nearest temple, the Guatemala City Guatemala Temple. It would be an expensive and difficult trip, but being sealed was a blessing we did not want to live without.

The day after I proposed, I lost my job. Undaunted, I decided to earn money by giving bus tours. My bus broke down the first night. Concerned but determined, I next decided to sell T-shirts. The morning I went to pick up the shirts from the manufacturer, I found that the building had burned to the ground the night before. It seemed that my hopes had gone up in smoke too.

It was only a few months before the next scheduled temple trip, yet to this point, every effort I had made to raise money had ended in abrupt failure. I left the smoldering rubble and went to find Beny.

“I have nothing,” I told her. “Maybe you shouldn’t marry me.”

“If I were marrying for money, I’d be married already,” she said. “But I’m not marrying for money. I’m marrying you because I love you.”

That was a turning point. We felt that we had passed an important test. As we pushed ahead with faith, doors began opening. I found work making furniture, though the pay wasn’t enough to meet our needs. Then a kind bishop offered to help us with our bus fare. As exciting as his offer was, it didn’t feel right. We were intent on being self-sufficient. But seeing that he truly desired to help, we asked him if he could give Beny a job instead. He did.

After earning enough money to travel to the temple, we married civilly and were at last on our way to Guatemala with 10 other Church members. But our test wasn’t over yet.

Widespread transportation strikes stopped us at the border of Costa Rica. After waiting at the border for two days, our driver decided to turn back. But Beny and I, along with two brothers and one other couple, decided not to give up. After watching our bus turn around and leave us, we walked into Costa Rica. We kept walking, sleeping in roadside shelters, until we reached the Nicaraguan border. From there we managed to take a taxi to the capital city, where we purchased a bus ticket to the Honduran border. Two days—and two more buses—later we finally arrived at the temple. We were dirty and tired, and we had spent far more than we had planned, but we were happy.

The next day, after all our trials and delays, we were finally sealed eternally as husband and wife. Our joy—worth the working, the waiting, and the worrying—was full!

Not everyone getting married in the temple will face such challenges, but for Beny and me (and the others who went to the temple with us), these experiences were a refining process. It was one of the greatest experiences of my life.

If our goal to marry in the temple had been only for worldly love, we wouldn’t have made it. But because we believed in the sealing power of the priesthood restored in our day, we didn’t give up, knowing that our temple marriage—for time and all eternity—was worth whatever sacrifice we had to make.

Last year was a scary time for me. I had just entered Young Women, and I was going to attend a new ward. I worried that I wouldn’t make any friends, and since I was a new member of the Church, I didn’t understand much about Young Women.
I remember the first day I went to Young Women in my new ward. I went to opening exercises and sat down by myself because I didn’t know anyone. This made me feel uneasy and alone. Then I looked up, and there was a young woman standing in front of me. She said, “Hello, Cecilia” and sat down next to me. This made me feel great, and I wasn’t scared anymore.
It was from her example that I learned what fellowshipping is all about. This has helped me to reach out to other new or lonely people who need their spirits lifted.

Rebecca has an unusual family. Most Italian families are small, but the Favaretto family has eight children: Geneiveve, 24; Gianni, 22; Elizabeth, 19; Andrea, 15; Matteo, 14; Rebecca, 12; Giorgio, 10; and Sara, 7. Rebecca’s father, Vittorio, was one of the very first Italian converts to the Church. Even before the gospel was being taught in Italy, he was baptized in London, England, while going to school there.

Having a large family means that everyone has to share in the work. “Rebecca is a great help to me at home,” says her mother, Lynn. “She always cheerfully helps me with the chores around the house, and she is very kind to her younger brother and sister. She is especially a great help with her little sister, Sara. Sara has a speaking problem, and Rebecca spends a lot of time helping her read.”

Rebecca enjoys going to school. She rides a bus to school, but since the Favaretto home is the last stop on the route, it doesn’t take too long to get there. “My favorite subject in school is languages,” she says. “I am learning to speak French and English!” Since school is compulsory only through fourteen years of age, Rebecca will have the choice at that time of going to work or continuing her studies for five more years in a specialized school, where she can choose the kind of career she would like to have.

Of course, Rebecca—like children everywhere—also has some favorite things that she likes to do. “I like the times when we have sports at school—especially when we play volleyball. I like to sing, and I like to play with my cat, Leo,” she says with a twinkle in her eye.

In Italy, religion is taught in the public schools, and Rebecca attends these classes. Her mother explains, “We could have taken her out of the classes; but we decided that this was a good opportunity for her to talk about our church and what we believe as the students discuss various religions.” Rebecca and her brother, Matteo are the only members of the Church in their school.

Rebecca is especially thankful for her family and for the Church. She knows that there are many children in the world who do not now have the gospel, and she hopes that some day they, too, will enjoy the blessings the gospel brings.

It was often difficult for those in the 1830s to accept that the Lord spoke to them—as it is for many in our day, especially for those who call themselves intellectuals. It should not have been, but it was. One of the early “intellectuals” of the Church, William McLellin, was humbled when he decided to test Joseph Smith. He wanted some outward proof that these revelations came from God. He formulated in his mind five questions that he wanted answered that only the Lord and he would know. Without telling Joseph Smith the questions, he requested a revelation. We can read the result of this inquiry in section 66 of the Doctrine and Covenants. The Lord gave this section in answer to these five questions that only McLellin and the Lord knew. It may be interesting for you to determine if you can discover what these five questions were. As Joseph dictated that revelation, McLellin got the confirmation he sought. He then recorded his personal testimony of the divine calling of the Prophet Joseph. He said,
I now testify in the fear of God, that every question [was] answered to my full and entire satisfaction. I desired it for a testimony of Joseph’s inspiration. And I to this day consider it to me an evidence which I cannot refute. [Ensign of Liberty, p. 61]
Joseph Smith is a true Prophet . . . of the Lord and . . . has power and does receive revelations from God. [Letter from William E. McLellin to relatives, 4 August 1832, RLDS Archives, p. 4]
In spite of this witness, McLellin left the Church.

When I was called to serve as a General Authority, I had an interview with President James E. Faust. He noticed I was concerned because I felt inadequate for such a call. In his tender way, President Faust told me, “Athos, be yourself. Be yourself.” That night I lay awake in bed, thinking of my new responsibilities and of President Faust’s words. And I prayed. I asked myself, “Who am I?” And the answer came as clear and bright as the dawn of that brand-new day. I am, like each one of you, a child of God who wants to obey the Lord and serve wherever He sends me and thus be a better child of our Heavenly Father and a faithful member of the true Church of Jesus Christ.

When I started my final semester of college, I thought I’d finally know what I was doing with my life. I was a senior, about to graduate; surely I’d mastered being an adult. But trying to juggle classes and jobs and social life and health quickly turned into a nightmare. Going to school at Brigham Young University–Idaho should’ve made it easier, but being surrounded by so many members of the Church was overwhelming. I felt like I didn’t belong. I never doubted my testimony or the Lord, but I didn’t have a lot of confidence in my own abilities.
I’m a native Floridian who loves to be in the water, so to have a little taste of home, I decided to take a swimming course that semester. It was perfect. I already knew how to swim … or so I thought.
Swimming laps is very different than casually playing in the pool. And I learned that the hard way. During one of my first classes, only five seconds into a lap going back and forth down the swimming pool, I already couldn’t breathe. Pulling myself forward in the water took more energy than I thought it would. I knew how to swim, but I didn’t know the proper strokes or techniques, and all the other swimmers in my class were breezing past me in the water.
As soon as I finished a few laps, my instructor came over to me and said:
“You’re kind of flailing. Try to focus on how your body moves with the water, instead of trying to get to the other side of the pool as fast as possible.”
I left class soaking wet, exhausted, and humiliated.
Later that day, I sat down with my scriptures and pushed swimming from my mind. Thinking about how that class went just made me feel stupid.
But the embarrassment was far from over.
As I prayed and reflected, I kept thinking about my imperfections. I compared myself to who I wanted to be and definitely did not measure up to the expectations I had for myself. Failing at swimming opened my eyes to all the ways I was failing or not progressing in every other aspect of my life. Not only did I fail to measure up as a swimmer, but I also felt like I wasn’t being the best disciple I could be. I was impatient, lazy, and easily annoyed. I’d been working on becoming a better person all my life, but I still could only see all my imperfections.
I began repenting and apologizing, telling Heavenly Father that I knew exactly what I was doing wrong and asking Him to show me what else I needed to change. I told Him I was so sorry, but I was going to work on becoming a better person as much as I could.
Before I even finished my prayer, I felt a clear impression from the Spirit saying that even though I was flailing, Heavenly Father was pleased that I was trying. This impression brought peace and a feeling of joy. I even laughed as I felt just a glimpse of Heavenly Father’s intimate awareness of me and how I was feeling.
I realized in that moment that He knew I was holding myself to an impossible standard. He didn’t expect me to suddenly be perfect, just like how my swimming instructor didn’t expect me to become an Olympic swimmer in a day.
Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles recently taught: “I believe the Savior Jesus Christ would want you to see, feel, and know that He is your strength. That with His help, there are no limits to what you can accomplish. That your potential is limitless. He would want you to see yourself the way He sees you.”1
That’s one thing the Savior can do for us—He can change how we see ourselves and our imperfect efforts.
President Gordon B. Hinckley once said: “Please don’t nag yourself with thoughts of failure. Do not set goals far beyond your capacity to achieve. Simply do what you can do, in the best way you know, and the Lord will accept of your effort.”2
By the end of that semester, I wasn’t flailing anymore. I could glide through the water without any problems, and it wasn’t because I suddenly became an expert overnight. It’s because I showed up to class every week, knowing that whatever happened, I would just try to do my best.
As I struggled to get through my last semester, the Lord knew that I was trying. And instead of condemning me for my imperfections, He helped me find joy in my efforts—even if they were messy and uncoordinated. He could see that behind all my mistakes was a girl who just wanted, more than anything, to be a good disciple … and a good swimmer.

The next day, she and Jennie accompanied President McMurrin and other missionaries to Oldham, a manufacturing town east of Liverpool. In the evening, they formed a circle on a busy street corner, offered a prayer, and sang hymns until a large crowd formed around them. President McMurrin announced that a special meeting would be held the following day, and he invited everyone to come and hear preaching from “real live Mormon women.”
As he said this, a sick feeling crept over Inez. She was nervous about speaking to a large crowd. Still, as she stood among the missionaries in their silk hats and black suits, she had never been prouder to be a Latter-day Saint.4
The next evening, Inez trembled as she waited for her turn to speak. Having heard terrible lies about Latter-day Saint women, people were curious about her and the other women speaking at the meeting. Sarah Noall and Caroline Smith, the wife and sister-in-law of one of the missionaries, addressed the congregation first. Inez then spoke, despite her fear, and surprised herself by how well she did.
Inez and Jennie were soon assigned to labor in Cheltenham. They went door to door and frequently testified at street meetings. They also accepted invitations to meet with people in their homes. Listeners usually treated them well, although occasionally someone would mock them or accuse them of lying.
Inez and Jennie hoped to see more women serving missions. “We feel that the Lord is blessing us in our attempts to allay prejudice and spread the truth,” they reported to mission leaders. “We trust that many of the worthy young women in Zion will be permitted to enjoy the same privilege we now have, for we feel that they can do much good.”5