Gospel Story Finder

Elizabeth Beardall’s sister Charlotte has recently died of scarlet fever. When Elizabeth falls ill, her parents summon Latter-day Saint missionaries who have been preaching in their town in England. The elders give Elizabeth a blessing in which they make four promises. The first is that Elizabeth will recover, which she immediately does. The second is that she will accept the gospel and be baptized.
Christmas was coming, and Elizabeth could hardly wait. Her excitement wasn’t for the gifts that Father Christmas would bring, nor for her eighth birthday on the day after Christmas. She was excited because on the day after her birthday she would be baptized into God’s true Church.
Grandmother Beardall smiled as the family sat down to dinner. “Look at Elizabeth,” she said. “She’s glowing like a crystal! Is it Christmas or birthday wishes that dance in your head, my dear?”
“Neither,” Elizabeth answered without thinking. She remembered too late that Grandmother wasn’t supposed to know about the baptism.
“Neither?” Grandmother sounded puzzled. “How can it be neither? Tell us, child. What excites you so?”
Elizabeth studied the pattern on her china plate and didn’t answer.
Grandmother frowned and turned to look at Father. “Someone told me they saw you associating with those wicked Mormons, Francis. I assured them it was not true. Can you give me the same assurance?”
Elizabeth thought of Elder Chase and Elder Canon and all the other good people in the Church. “They are not wicked, Grandmother!” she blurted out.
Grandmother turned pale. “So it is true,” she said softly.
“Mother, we have found God’s true Church,” Elizabeth’s father said gently. “We are being baptized at the end of the month.”
Grandmother sat stiff and straight. “The children too?”
“Ellen and Frank are too young,” Mother replied. “But Elizabeth is old enough to decide for herself, and as you have seen, she can hardly wait.”
Grandmother took out her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “You have broken my heart, Francis, and brought disgrace on your family. I would rather have followed you to your grave than see you join that despised church. If you join with those people, you are no longer my son, but I would not lose my beloved granddaughter.” She turned to Elizabeth. “If you really have a choice in this matter, I beg you not to be baptized but come and live with me. I promise that you will never want for anything as long as you live.”
Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. She loved her grandmother very much, but she also wanted to be baptized. Later, as Mother tucked her into bed, Elizabeth asked, “Why doesn’t Grandmother want us to join God’s true Church?”
“She doesn’t believe that it is the true church,” Mother said, “and she has the right to choose.”
“But what should I do? If I do what Grandma wants will Heavenly Father understand? Will He know that I still believe the Church is true?”
“He knows your heart, Elizabeth, but sometimes faith is more than just believing. It is trusting God and doing the right thing even when it’s hard. But you also have the right to choose. It’s your decision if or when you are baptized.”
In the busy days that followed, Elizabeth put aside the decision as she worked on Christmas presents for her family. But as she pushed cloves into a pomander ball for Grandmother, Elizabeth knew she could give a gift that would make Grandmother much happier. She could agree to live with her.
On Christmas Eve Elizabeth’s family was enjoying their plum pudding when the doctor came to call. “I have just come from tending Mrs. Beardall,” he told Father. “She is not serious, but asks that you come see her.”
Father reached for his coat. “I’ll take Elizabeth,” he said. “That will cheer her.”
Grandmother was in bed propped on her pillows. “How are you?” Father asked, taking her hand.
“My old body is wearing out,” Grandmother said. “I am in great need of a strong youth to assist me.” She looked at Elizabeth. “Well, dear? What is your decision? Will you come help me in my time of need?”
Elizabeth hesitated. Seeing her grandmother in bed reminded her of the night three years earlier when she herself lay dying.
“I love you, Grandmother,” Elizabeth said, “and I will do what I can to help you. But God has given me special promises and one of them was that I would join the true Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He cannot keep His promises unless I do my part. So I have decided to be baptized with my parents.”
As soon as Elizabeth spoke these words, joy filled her heart. She knew she had made the right decision.
Coming up in next month’s Friend, read about the third promise from Elizabeth’s blessing in “Part 3: Elizabeth Alone.”
“We follow the Savior by entering the waters of baptism and receiving a remission of our sins, by receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost and allowing that influence to inspire, instruct, guide, and comfort us.”Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, “‘Follow Me,’” Ensign, May 2002, 16–17.

President Grant Bangerter was having a doctrinal conversation with President Joseph Fielding Smith, who was touring his mission in Brazil. Sister Bangerter listened and finally said, “President Smith, I have been raising children and haven’t had time to become a scriptorian like he is. Will I get to the celestial kingdom with Grant?”
President Smith pondered soberly for a moment and then said, “Well, perhaps if you bake him a pie.”

I was only three when my parents got divorced, but I could still remember the guilt I felt when mom told me my father wasn’t going to live with us anymore. I thought it was my fault. I thought I’d done something wrong. For months I tried to be as perfect as I could, hoping that if I was a good girl he would come back, but he never did.
Then mom met Edward. I liked him immediately. He smiled a lot and brought me candy and tickled me to make me giggle. When he asked mom to marry him, I was happier than I had been for a long time. I even started calling him dad, a name I had stopped using for my real father long before. Edward wanted to adopt me and have me sealed to him and mom. I loved the idea. Then I overheard mom talking to Edward.
"It was my mistake," she said. "I should’ve talked to John before I said anything to Cathy. I don’t know how I’m going to tell her, but John simply refuses to let his daughter be adopted by another man."
I cried myself to sleep that night.
After that, I still called Edward dad. I waited outside the temple while he and mom were married. Edward baptized me and took me to all my daddy-daughter parties and treated me just as if I were really his own daughter. And when he and mom had children of their own, I was excited to finally have brothers and sisters. But every once in awhile, I would look at them and realize that they were a family—all of them sealed to each other. I wasn’t sealed to anyone, and it was all my father’s fault.

Football season begins early in Alaska, USA. For seniors Vili T. and his twin brother, Josh, the first regular season game in 2012 took place on August 11. The regular season ended at the end of September. That’s because in this far-northern state, winter comes early. Just a few miles from the high school, blue-white glaciers reach right down into the ocean. And bald eagles and bears feast on the salmon.
Holding practice in 55-degree (12.8°C) weather is not uncommon, even in the summer. Vili and Josh do it because they love athletics.
“We’re always near each other,” says Vili, referring to the fact that he plays quarterback and Josh plays running back. But the two of them are leaders off the field too. There are only 15 or so members of the Church in their school, so they really stand out. Setting the example for others means constantly making choices to be strong—and humble—and the rewards have been tangible.
“People here are pretty accepting of Latter-day Saints,” Josh says. “Sometimes they make jokes, or they try to get us to do stuff on Sundays. But they all know we have Mutual on Tuesdays so they shouldn’t expect us at football.”
Vili adds, “Sometimes they try to get us to do things we shouldn’t do. We just say no. Sometimes we teach them the gospel or share the Book of Mormon with them. It’s pretty fun to share the gospel.”
The brothers learned early on that it’s not always easy being different.
“In middle school, our friends started making choices” to do things that weren’t in keeping with the gospel, Josh explains. “We had to separate ourselves a little bit. In high school, I saw my friends make bad choices. That’s when I realized I’m grateful for who I am and the choices I’ve made.”
“As a freshman,” Vili adds, “I looked to some of the older football players as my heroes. After they graduated, I saw some of them make some really wrong choices. But one of them, my cousin Paul, served a mission.” When Vili compared the two types of examples set by the older players, he had a moment where the Spirit gave him understanding about who he wanted to be and what he wanted to do with his life. “Then I knew for sure that the gospel is true. I knew that if I stick with the gospel and keep my standards, then I can live with Heavenly Father again.”
During the summer of 2012, Vili and Josh attended an Aaronic Priesthood camp sponsored by their stake. The twins’ cousin, a young deacon, started teasing one of the older young men, which led to a scuffle. Vili quickly ran over and pulled them apart.
“I didn’t know the whole story,” Vili says. “I had a hardness in my heart. I was so mad.”
He nearly lost his temper and hit the other young man, but one of the adult leaders intervened. Vili recalls, “He said to me, ‘You hold the priesthood. You are an example. What happens if you hit him? You won’t feel the same and the others won’t look at you the same.’”
Vili had been asked to be a leader at the camp, where the theme was missionary preparation. Vili had prayed that the young men in his ward would feel the Spirit and want to serve missions. To help them commit, Vili had encouraged them to sign their names on a banner testifying that they would serve missions. All of them, including Vili, had signed it. Because of his commitment, he knew he had a responsibility to uphold.
“That night I prayed about [how I had reacted to the older young man] for a long time,” he says. “I realized that if I had gotten in a fight, I would have been kicked out of camp, and my life would have gone down from there. I didn’t want that. I repented. The next day, I was side-by-side with that boy—as friends.”
As a Church member, you have to focus on what it means to set the example. Sometimes that means choosing to be humble and repenting, even when you don’t want to.
Josh says, “It’s like football. People come at you, like temptations. You dodge, you go forward. And if you get hit, just as it is with sin, you have to get up and get ready for the next play.”

After eight years of not attending church, Paulo (all names have been changed) received a phone call from his bishop in Brazil asking how he was doing. Paulo had longed to return, but many concerns kept him from full activity. How could he avoid comparing himself, still single, to those married with children? Would he find any friends at church after so long and, if he did, what would they think of him? Would he still be able to feel the Spirit like he had during his conversion and mission or have enough faith to accept callings?
One month after the phone call, Paulo watched President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, give a conference talk called, “Come, Join with Us.”1 “That talk hit me hard,” he recalls, and within a few weeks he found himself sitting in the church parking lot, trembling and offering a silent prayer for the strength to get out of the car and enter the building.
“Everything wasn’t perfect,” he recalls of his first year after returning. It wasn’t easy to fit in. Yet a feeling of connectedness to the Savior and a strong desire for a temple recommend helped him overcome his insecurities. He began reading his scriptures and praying again. “If you don’t give up, you gain strength and can feel the Lord blessing you,” he advises those who struggle to feel accepted. “I have a testimony that this is Christ’s Church, but it’s in Him you will find true belonging.”

The author being baptized by Thomas Salisbury in Sông Bé Lake, Vietnam.
Photograph courtesy of the author
I enlisted in the United States Army for a three-year term and arrived in South Vietnam on my 20th birthday. After eight months, I was assigned to a unit northwest of Saigon. While there, I quickly observed that one of my tentmates, Thomas Salisbury, was different from everyone else.
The difference was so striking that I eventually asked him, “Tom, why are you so different from everyone else?”
“Because I’m a Latter-day Saint,” he replied.
“What is a Latter-day Saint?” I asked.
He arranged for me to meet with him and Harold Lewis, a returned missionary who was serving as an assistant to the unit chaplain. During our first meeting in a tent that served as a small chapel, I agreed that if I really believed what they were telling me, I would be baptized. I also received a copy of the Book of Mormon, which I kept in the lower pocket of my cargo pants and read whenever I had downtime.
Several discussions followed, and I found that each lesson answered questions I had had in my search for truth. But when Tom and Harold asked me if I wanted to be baptized, I said no. I didn’t know how I could keep all the commandments they had taught me.
After attending a district conference in Saigon, I went to Australia for a week of rest and relaxation. While there, I started to realize how important the teachings of the gospel had become to me. Upon my return to Vietnam, I immediately announced to Tom that I wished to be baptized.
Soon after, Tom baptized me in Sông Bé Lake, Harold confirmed me a member of the Church, and Timothy Hill, our Church group leader, ordained me a deacon.
When I returned home to the United States six weeks later, I introduced the gospel to my girlfriend, who became my wife. She also embraced the gospel’s hopeful message.
I will be forever grateful that Tom asked me if I wanted to know more. His example and invitation answered my longing to find the truth and enjoy the blessings of the gospel.

Hey, Uncle Oscar! Hey, Maria!
Are you excited to be baptized tomorrow?
Yes! Do you want to be witnesses for my baptism?
Of course!
Wait, what does that even mean?
We need two people who have been baptized to watch and make sure Maria goes all the way under the water.
Well, we are good at watching things! We love watching cartoons.
Ha, perfect! Thanks for helping.
I know Jesus is proud of you for making this good choice.
Illustrations by Katie McDee

This story happened in the USA.
Jessica fidgeted nervously in the car on the way to her aunt and uncle’s ward. Christmas was only a few days away, but she didn’t feel like celebrating.
Earlier that week there had been a fire at her house. Everyone was safe, but their home was damaged. Many of their things were ruined. Jessica and her mom, brother, and two sisters had moved in with her uncle and aunt until their house could be fixed.
Jessica’s aunt smiled at her. “I know you’ll have a great time in our Primary,” she said.
Jessica wasn’t so sure. She was nervous to go to a different Primary. I won’t know anyone, she thought. Will they be nice to me?
Jessica tried not to think about the fire as she walked to Primary. She held her little cousin Sam’s hand and helped him find his seat. The Primary sang Christmas songs about Jesus. Jessica thought about how Joseph and Mary were away from their home when Jesus was born. She wondered if they felt lost and alone, like she felt right now.
When it was time for class, Jessica felt even more nervous. Another girl smiled at her. “Hi, I’m Anna. Do you want to sit by me in class?”
Jessica smiled back. “Sure.”
In class they read in the scriptures about when Jesus Christ was born. The teacher, Sister Rios, said that the Savior was Heavenly Father’s greatest gift to the world. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son,”* she read to the class.
Jessica had never thought about Jesus as a gift before. She thought about their Christmas presents that had been ruined in the fire. She loved getting presents and was sad hers were gone. But she loved Jesus even more and knew He would never go away.
At the end of class, Sister Rios took out a few small boxes from her bag. Each one held a tiny carving of baby Jesus.
“I have a gift for each of you.” Sister Rios started passing out the boxes. “It can help you remember that God loves you so much that He sent His Son for you.” Then she looked at Jessica. “Jessica, I’m so sorry. I don’t have one for you. I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
Jessica looked down at her hands and tried not to cry. She didn’t know she was going to be here either. She wished she could be in her own home, in her own Primary class for Christmas.
Just then, someone placed a box in her lap. She looked up and saw Anna smiling at her. “Merry Christmas! You can have mine.”
Jessica gently touched the tiny baby Jesus figure. “Thank you! Merry Christmas to you too!”
After church, Mom gave her a hug. “How was Primary?” she asked.
“Good! I got this as a present.” Jessica smiled. “And I learned that Jesus is the best gift of all.”

In 1978 I had a memorable dream in which two people appeared to me. As I spoke with them in this dream, I felt an amazing sense of joy. The happy feeling persisted even after I woke up the next morning.
That very day two Latter-day Saint missionaries knocked on the door of our home and asked if they could share a message. Remembering my dream, I agreed and invited them in. My husband was reluctant, but he consented when I told him that I couldn’t bear to let them go away without talking to them.
Among other things, the missionaries taught me about prophets that day. I was familiar with the prophets of the Bible, such as Abraham and Moses, but the missionaries also taught me about a modern-day prophet, Joseph Smith. At the end of our lesson, the elders asked if they could return for more discussions. I said yes.
After additional discussions the missionaries invited me to be baptized. I liked what I had learned, but before being baptized, I wanted to gain a testimony of Joseph Smith. Of all the things the missionaries had taught me, his story was the most difficult for me to accept. But I knew that if I was sincere in seeking such a testimony, Heavenly Father would confirm the truth to me.
I went to see a member of the clergy in the church I had been raised in. I told him what the missionaries had taught me and expressed a great desire to meet with them again. Before I could say anything else though, he told me that Joseph Smith was crazy, that he was a visionary.
Suddenly, I heard a voice tell me, “Joseph Smith is a true prophet.” My heart started beating strongly within me, and even though I had not yet been baptized into the Church, I found myself defending the Prophet of the Restoration.
The feeling of confirmation grew even stronger as I left the clergyman’s office. I had received my answer and knew in which church I should raise my sons.
I was baptized a short time later, and I felt a great desire to share what I had found. I had received a spiritual confirmation of the Prophet Joseph Smith, and I wanted others to experience the joy I now had in my life as a result. My husband experienced that joy for himself when he joined the Church two years after I did.
I am grateful to live in a time when we again have prophets on the earth. Because of their guidance, I have a sure path that I can follow.

Sally was a relatively new member at the time of the martyrdom. She and her husband and their two sons had joined the Church near Buffalo, New York, and migrated to Nauvoo in 1843. Here they found many Saints sick with fevers, malaria, and measles. Writing to her family in the eastern United States, she said, “It is very sickly here at present … , and a great many children die” from the diseases.
Sally’s oldest son, 14-year-old George, soon got sick and died about three weeks later. With “a heart full of grief and sorrow” from her son’s death, she received word eight months later of the Prophet’s martyrdom. In this state of grief, she wrote her family to detail the events, share her emotions, and give perspective to events of the time.

I am writing to thank you for the New Era, which I have found to be spiritually uplifting, and to share with you my little miracle. At a point in my life when I had become totally inactive and thought that life was no longer worth living, I started to receive the New Era. I don’t know who paid for the subscription, but I will be eternally grateful because it helped to bring about the turning point in my life. I am now back on the right road, and I know that life is worth living. I have a lot of steps to climb and a lot of praying and learning to do, but I know that my Heavenly Father is beside me all the way.
Terri WhittingPerth, Australia

My senior year in high school brought me an experience that taught me much about obedience and prayer. I had joined the Church about six months previously, and now I had my first job with a regular paycheck: I was the projectionist at the downtown movie theater. I loved movies, and getting a salary for showing movies was like getting paid for having fun. Also, the job required my strict attention only about 5 minutes out of every 20, when it was time to change reels. As long as the film didn’t break or something else didn’t require my attention, I was free during most of my time in the projection booth to read, do schoolwork, or simply enjoy the movie.
The job had its downsides. One was that I would be required to work on Sunday nights.
After some weeks on the job I could tell that my spirituality was declining. I was becoming moody and depressed. My schoolwork suffered. But I still thought I had a wonderful job, and I didn’t want to give it up.
I asked my boss, Mr. Harper, if I could have Sundays off. He told me that Sunday was their biggest day, and he couldn’t spare me. A coworker agreed to work in my place on some Sundays. I thought that would be a great help, but my dark feelings, as well as my grades, continued to get worse.
Then I had what I thought was a brilliant idea. I would give what I earned on Sundays to the Church as a special donation. I’d even add an extra 10 percent for good measure. Since I wouldn’t be profiting from my Sunday work, surely the Lord would accept my sacrifice and give His blessing to my activities.
I found myself praying while I was alone in the projection booth one night. “What should I do?” I asked aloud. “Should I keep going as I am now? Should I quit? Should I donate my Sunday earnings?” I truly wanted to know, and my questions were sincere.
When I asked if I should quit, I felt a warmth stir inside me. Was that an answer? If it was, I didn’t think it made sense. Why would the Lord refuse my offering of my Sunday earnings? Surely, I thought, He would consider my sacrifice the best possible option. I must have misunderstood what I felt. (If I had remembered that Heavenly Father prefers obedience over sacrifice, I would not have been so confused [see 1 Samuel 15:22].)
I stayed at the job. I added my Sunday earnings to what I was already paying for tithing and fast offerings. I thought I was doing the right thing. Why wasn’t I feeling better? After several weeks of soul-searching I concluded that I had chosen to do what I wanted to do when I decided to stay on the job, even though it violated the Lord’s commandments. I wouldn’t get better until what I wanted to do matched what the Lord wanted me to do. I enjoyed being a movie projectionist, but I wanted to enjoy being a good Latter-day Saint more. I found someone to recommend as my replacement, and I gave Mr. Harper my two weeks’ notice.
Around this time my priests quorum class discussed what the Lord told Oliver Cowdery about answers to prayer: “You must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right, and if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right” (D&C 9:8).
When I thought about my prayer in the projection booth, I realized that what I had felt when I had asked if I should quit was that promised burning in the bosom. At the time I either hadn’t recognized it for what it was, or I hadn’t had faith that it came from God. Now I knew it had come from Him. I promised myself I wouldn’t be past feeling His words again (see 1 Nephi 17:45).

This is a great story! Kirsten Leichty, who is a Mia Maid and attends the Bitburg American High School in Germany, had the assignment to give a persuasive speech in her honors English class.
What better topic to speak on than the Book of Mormon? With the help of her family and her ward missionaries, she got enough copies of the Book of Mormon to give one to each member of her class. She then spoke about it, bore testimony of it, and challenged the class to read at least ten pages of it.
She got an “A” on her assignment because she was so persuasive. Almost everyone read it. “The buzz she sent rippling through the school was immediate,” said LDS schoolmate Joe Roller. “Not only were the students eager to ask Kirsten questions, but the other 20 or so of us LDS students had the opportunity to add our testimonies to Kirsten’s.”
With all the seeds she planted, this great story might never end.

When we would go out to eat before, I would usually order a sweet tea, but Kevin would say, “You don’t need a sweet tea; get something else.”
One day I went to a fast food restaurant for my lunch break and ordered a sweet tea. A few minutes later, an employee said, “At the very moment you ordered a sweet tea, the machine broke.”
She said it would take about an hour to fix the machine. I only had 30 minutes for lunch. I just ordered a soda instead. At that point I laughed and said, “All right, I get it now!”

In October 1984, I was working as a quality control supervisor for a paper mill in Orani, Bataan, Philippines. Like most paper mills, ours recycled waste paper. One day, the book Meet the Mormons was included in a load of magazines. I got curious, took it into my office, and started reading it. I learned about Joseph Smith and his vision, and I readily accepted that God would reveal himself to a boy. I did not understand the section on the priesthood hierarchy, but I liked the Relief Society section. I read the book several times.
For many months, I had been trying to find more meaning in life. I had always been an active Catholic, and had even attended several meetings to become a Franciscan nun. Still, I felt like a piece of wood drifting in the ocean.
Two weeks later, I was inspecting the raw material in one of the delivery trucks when I noticed a blue book. It was the Book of Mormon! I asked the driver if I could have it. I took it back to my office and started reading. Inside the front cover were the steps of prayer. “Maybe I should try praying this way,” I told myself. It also listed the pages that told of Christ’s visit to America. I eagerly turned to those pages. Here were the Beatitudes and other teachings Jesus gave to the Jews! Were these chapters not copied from the New Testament? Then I realized that he was the very same Christ. Surely he would give the same teachings. I wondered if Christ might have come to the Philippines, too. I turned to 1 Nephi. Who were Lehi, Nephi, and Laman? They were such strange names. I treasured both books.

My name is Peteru Mamoe (Elder Birita), and I want to share a story that taught me how Heavenly Father answers prayers—not just for us but through us.
One day our pantry was nearly empty. We had rice but nothing else. I knelt in prayer and asked Heavenly Father to provide for our needs. Specifically, I asked for fish—a simple yet nourishing addition to our meal. I trusted that He would provide, but I had no idea how He would do it.
Later that day, as I sat outside our home, a man walked by carrying a sack full of fish. My wife was washing dishes near the fence when, suddenly, the sack burst open and fish spilled onto the ground. The man was clearly distressed, but my wife quickly offered him a new sack. Grateful for her kindness, he entrusted her with the fish while he went to find his brothers to help.
When the man returned, he gave my wife two large fish as a gesture of gratitude. We were overjoyed! Not only did we have fish for our meal, but we had enough to share. I felt prompted to take some of the fish to a friend who was unemployed and struggling to provide for his family. When I arrived at his home, I discovered that his wife and child were in the hospital, and he had been praying for a way to feed them.
My friend’s eyes filled with tears as he accepted the fish. He told me that his wife had already prepared breadfruit for their meal, but now they could add fish to it. Later, I learned that his wife had shared some of the fish with a widow and her two sick children at the hospital. This widow had also been praying for food, and God had answered her prayer through the kindness of others.
As I reflected on this chain of events, I was overwhelmed by the love of Heavenly Father. He had not only answered my prayer for fish but had also used me to answer the prayers of my friend and the widow. It was a powerful reminder that God often works through us to bless others. In the words of the Savior, “For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required” (Luke 12:48).
This experience taught me that God’s love is not limited to our individual needs. He sees the bigger picture and uses us as instruments in His hands to bless His children. Since that day, I have made it a habit to pray not only for my own needs but for the needs of those around me. I have seen how God can take a simple prayer—like my request for fish—and turn it into a miracle that touches multiple lives.
I testify that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are aware of our struggles and our needs. They hear our prayers, and They answer them in ways that strengthen our faith and bless others. May we always be willing to act on the promptings we receive, knowing that we can be instruments in God’s hands to share His love and provision with those around us.

Mike is truly a special person, but it took me 18 years to realize it. Mike is my older brother, and for years we struggled to get along. We are very different. Mike, the family athlete, played basketball while I practiced the piano. I excelled in English and literature. Mike’s forte is science. But instead of our differences forming a complementary relationship between us, we let them turn into feelings of anger and contention.
Consequently, those negative feelings began to concern our parents. “Jeff, we are an eternal family. If you and Mike can’t get along now, you’re not going to be happy with him in the eternities,” my father said one day. “Of all the relationships in your life, this is one of the most important. You must put forth all your effort to build it up. It will take a lot of work; everything worthwhile does.”
That night I thought a lot about what Dad had said, and I knew he was right. I promised myself that I would try my best to build a better relationship with my brother.
With the hopes of building a friendship between Mike and me, our parents planned a long family vacation in Alaska where we could spend a lot of time together fishing, hiking, and camping. Mom and Dad’s plan caught a snag, though. Both Mike and I wanted to stay home to work and earn money for college. Disappointed but supportive of our decision, our family left us in Houston to work for the two months they would be in Alaska.
After they left, we both searched for good jobs with little success until Mike finally found one. The catch was he needed me too. A real estate manager had several houses that needed exterior paint jobs, and he was looking for a couple of guys to paint. At the time, the thought of working several hours every day with Mike was not appealing. But the money was too good to refuse.
On our first day of painting the change in us began. At 5:30 A.M., Mike yelled into my room, “Come on, get up! It’s only going to get hotter!” With a groan, I got dressed. We both knew once the sun was up, the temperature would rise quickly, making outside work even more miserable. Mike loaded the van with our equipment, while I made juice and packed fruit that we hoped would give us periodic reprieves from the beating sun.
As we began to paint, we realized our painting strategies were quite different. While I spent a lot of time on each area, moving on only when the area was well-coated and no spots showed, Mike would paint an entire wall quickly and messily and then return for a second coat to cover any missed spots. The different strategies were equally efficient and caused no problems until we both had to work in the same area. We then compromised. Mike began with his first coat and I followed behind, catching every spot and finishing details. We finished much faster than expected.
Another potential conflict arose in choosing a radio station to listen to. While Mike preferred the “light” station, I complained it was more monotonous than the painting. I didn’t want to argue, though, so I was preparing to give him the choice. But it was Mike who acquiesced. During the course of that day, Mike listened to more alternative rock than ever before. I even caught him singing along several times.
Though we painted through some periods without talking, we also maintained long periods of conversation, perhaps longer than we had ever talked before. Conversation made the job go faster, and as we talked it became clear that we had some things in common. In that one afternoon, we talked about school, the Church, music, and art. I told about a bizarre dream I’d had. He told me about his most embarrassing date. We found ourselves laughing as we realized we had repainted an entire wall in the midst of our conversation.
It was beginning to get dark when we finally finished the house. We cleaned our equipment, loaded the van, and then surveyed the house with satisfaction. As I drove home, I thought about something I’d learned in a physics class. Physicists define work in terms of force (effort) and displacement (movement). Thus, work becomes a term of progress, dependent on effort and movement. I thought about our first day of painting that same way. It had required a lot of effort, and we could see our progress on the house. But there was other work we had done that day too. Our relationship had become stronger. It wasn’t without effort, though. The words of my father echoed in my mind: “It will take work; everything worthwhile does.”
Later, I talked on the phone to my parents about the first day of painting. I told them despite the Texas heat, we were able to finish the first house. “Working with Mike wasn’t too bad. In fact, it was kind of fun,” I told my mom. “I’m excited to start the next house.”
Indeed, I couldn’t wait to continue what would turn out to be my real summer work—appreciating my brother.

When I was 16, I participated in a student foreign-exchange program for a year. I went from my home in Ukraine to a small town in Arizona, USA, where I stayed with a Latter-day Saint family. I had never heard of Latter-day Saints before.
The exchange program didn’t allow the family to preach to me, and I wasn’t allowed to meet with the missionaries. But I chose to attend church with my host family and participate in all Church activities.
I felt the Spirit with that family, and I felt much love at church. At that time I didn’t know that what I was feeling was the Spirit, but my heart was touched.
When I returned to Ukraine, I missed that feeling very much. I remembered how my life was when I went to church and lived gospel teachings. I realized what was missing, but there was no church and no missionaries where I lived, so I thought I would never have that feeling again.
About four years later, however, some missionaries knocked on my door. I was so happy to see them. While they were out working, they had listened to the Spirit, which led them to my house. I’m so grateful they were obedient. I was baptized and confirmed soon afterward.
Since then I have been sealed in the Stockholm Sweden Temple to my husband, a returned missionary who is from Russia. And now there’s a temple in Kyiv. We plan to attend regularly.
The temple is the most amazing place on earth. It is a place where you can be close to Heavenly Father. I feel so grateful that in the temple we can receive one of the greatest gifts given to us by Heavenly Father: to be sealed as families for eternity.
I am grateful to the members of that Latter-day Saint family who helped me feel the Spirit, starting me on a journey that would lead to a family of my own that is sealed together forever.

One fine morning I was strolling on a country road encompassed by every kind of greenery that filled my soul with well-being of the highest degree. I was full of expectancy of the best when I beheld, nearby a slaughter house, two apparently hungry dogs engaged in a bloody fight over what I later discovered to be a meatless piece of bone. I wondered why they had to quarrel over a worthless portion of animal skeleton. I was amazed especially when I saw the slaughter house which undoubtedly was the source of such a bone. It should not have offered any difficulty for one of them to look and find another piece of bone with abounding flesh from the slaughter house.
One consoling thought that struck me immediately while watching with fun these two unintelligent animals was that they were not human. Without any faculty of intellect, they could not exercise self-control nor feel any compunction or shame for my presence.
Thenceforth, I continued to walk leisurely, convinced that only dogs would act they way I had just witnessed. I was certainly saddened, in spite of my surroundings, when at a distance before me I saw two men locked in physical combat. I intervened, and they stopped at a point when one of them pulled a long knife. My presence was properly timed to prevent the certain death of the other who was apparently without any defensive weapon except his hands. I inquired what was wrong, and they began accusing each other. As a lawyer, I advised them that whoever won the fight is not a winner in the true sense because not only would he be deprived of peace of mind but that the authorities would see to it that he went to jail to pay for his crime.
The cause of it all, I finally found out, was that one owed the other the measly sum of $10.00 which he could not pay at the moment but promised to do so in an uncertain future. The latter, obviously drunk, became fed up with promises and so decided to settle it his way on the assumption it would solve his problem. Naturally, I remarked that it is the duty of the courts to collect debts otherwise impossible of recovery and that to take somebody’s life is too high a price for such an insignificant amount.
I left these two men shaking hands in renewed friendship, as I volunteered to pay the debt in behalf of the debtor.
The course taken by these two men was surely less forgivable than that of the dogs. Dogs are not expected to exercise self-control. But many of us act like dogs if we don’t.
Just what is this elusive word “self-control”? Webster defines it as “restraint exercised over one’s own impulses, emotions, or desires”. These three: impulses, emotions, and desires must be put in subjection by anyone human if he is to anticipate peace and harmony in his life, if he is to acquire the sterling embodiments of perfection and godship in the eternities.
Such is the law: both immutable and demanding but a law nevertheless. It may be obeyed or broken to the benefit or prejudice of anyone who does.
Latter-day Saints, above all other members of any community, have been regarded here and abroad, in the past and in the present, as a strange people because they have overcome a number of things which non-members engage in freely or with license. We do not touch anyone of those things embraced in the Word of Wisdom; we pay our tithes with the money that non-members otherwise spend in the passing pleasures of the day or night; we avoid any participation in anything worldly that violates the standards of things of beauty and of good report; or we depart from unwholesome companionship or association of anybody or anything that would give the appearance of evil.
To be sure, all these require extreme self-control, which when pursued faithfully ripen into self-mastery which President Spencer W. Kimball in his “Miracle of Forgiveness” says is a continuous program. It is always associated with obedience to law and order. Our Lord Jesus the Christ became the author of eternal salvation because he was made perfect through continued obedience by the things which he suffered throughout his earthly ministry.
In the Book of Doctrines of the Hindus, this one appears:
“That man alone is wise
Who keeps the mastery of himself! If one
Ponders on objects of the sense, there springs
Attraction; from attraction grows desire.
Desire flames to fierce passion, passion breeds
Recklessness; then the memory—all betrayed—
Lets noble purpose go, and saps the mind,
Till purpose, mind, and man are all undone.”
If recklessness saps the mind and the memory forgets the noble purpose of our creation, and when such a purpose, mind and man are all undone, what is left of him? Need we ask? Certainly, the dog in him, the animal in him! And when one day he quarrels with a dog over a worthless piece of human bone, we will not be surprised.
The Chinese philosopher Confucious once said that “Who contains himself goes seldom wrong”. This is logical because the simple implication is that this man is obedient to law and, therefore, commits no wrong. But the Greek philosopher Epectitus also declared that “No man is free who is not master of himself.” This again is plain because he who does not control his impulses, emotions and desires permits himself to be their slave by following them at every turn. A slave, as we know, is one without freedom but does the bidding of his master to satisfy the latter’s every whim which usually leads to destruction and death.
Self-control, whether we like it or not, is an all-embracing and paramount consideration in the life of every Christian. For the ultimate reward for obedience through self-control, and ultimately self-mastery, is kingship over cities, dominions and principalities. No one, absolutely no one, can qualify in the eternal realms to be a king exercising control over others unless he has completely mastered himself. That is why unless we now practice self-control, we cannot hope to be worthy of the reward so high and forbidding yet not a necessarily unreachable, impossible dream. Jesus Christ did it. He said we can do it. So, it can be done.
The great author John Milton once wrote in his “Paradise Regained”:
“Yet he who reigns within himself, and rules
Passions, desires, and fears, is more a king—
Which every wise and virtuous man attains;And who attains not, ill aspires to rule
Cities of man, headstrong multitudes,
Subject himself to anarchy within,
Or lawless passion in him, which he serves.
But to guide nations in the way of truth
By saving doctrine, and error lead
To know, and by knowing worship God aright,
Is yet more kingly. This attracts the soul,
Governs the inner man, the nobler part.”
President Spencer W. Kimball, echoing the sentiments of an unknown author, also said:
“The height of a man’s success is gauged by his self-mastery; the depth of his failure by his self-abandonment. There is no other limitation in either direction and this law is the expression of eternal justice. He who cannot establish a dominion over himself will have no dominion over others; he who masters himself shall be king.

I made a mistake similar to the one you wish to avoid because I was afraid I would not be accepted. This is the biggest mistake I have ever made. I was enslaved to that habit for the next eight years. I am just now getting over my addiction.

Drugs caused my love for life to slowly fade. I was ready to give up on life when I decided to turn my life around. I had to get rid of a “friend” to let go of the ties that held me back.

I now love myself enough that nobody can shake who I am. I do not know you personally, but I love the person you wish to be. If you ever have to give up a friend to protect yourself, do it. If your friends insist on falling, don’t tumble with them.