Gospel Story Finder

Left to right: Caeli (sister), Cameron (dad), Crystal (mom), Cara, Cohen (brother)
My mom has been sick since I was four. At first, no one knew what it was, but we had family and friends praying and fasting for our family to figure it out. After many years of surgeries and tests, we found out she had Chiari malformation, blood cancer, and several other illnesses that there isn’t a cure for.
Watching my mom be so sick, I began to be upset with God. I knew He had the power to heal her, so I couldn’t understand why He didn’t. I thought all the prayers, fundraisers, and fasting had gone to waste.
But as I watched the October 2021 general conference with my family, I heard Elder Brent H. Nielson of the Seventy say, “The Savior’s healing power [is] not just His ability to heal our bodies but, perhaps even more important, His ability to heal our hearts.” When the resurrected Savior invited the people in the Book of Mormon to be healed, He “was not referring to a physical healing but rather a spiritual healing of their souls” (Liahona, Nov. 2021, 57).
These words helped me realize that God wasn’t ignoring me. I just wasn’t seeing how He was healing my mom in a more important way than taking away her illnesses.
My mom still hasn’t been cured, but Heavenly Father has been there for her in her lowest points. He helps her when she truly is feeling the worst she ever has in her life. Now when I reflect on this experience, I know that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ know exactly what I am feeling and going through.
Cara C., 13, Rhode Island, USA
Likes to hang out with friends and invite them over to play games.

Make Room for Elisa Elisa was Russell’s little sister. She accidentally helped him when he had stage fright at a recital. And he helped her when she accidentally broke a special vase. Their parents had two surprises for them—two wonderful surprises.Johanna Hurwitz7–10 years

I have been a member of the Church since I was eight years old. I believed all of the Church’s teachings, but used to take it for granted and relied on my parents’ testimonies.
When I was 14 years old, I was invited to a stake missionary fireside. I attend all the Church activities I can, so naturally I decided to go to this one. The thing that was mainly on my mind was socializing. However, I soon became engrossed in the meeting. It was a fireside musical and visual presentation called “Greater Than Us All.”
Around the middle of the fireside there was a song called “His Hands,” which describes the life of Christ, his love, his example, how he died, and how we should try to live. The song referred to his hands, and I found myself starting to cry, especially when they sang: “And then they pierced them! They pierced them! He let them because of love”—referring to his gentle hands being nailed on the cross. I felt a really warm burning inside, and I couldn’t stop crying. I felt the Savior’s overwhelming love for me.
I felt like that for the whole meeting. When I walked out, I asked my friends if they felt the same thing. They said no, that it was just a normal fireside. It was a personal witness to me of my own testimony. Now if I start wondering about some things concerning the Church, or have any doubts, I always think about that experience and I am reassured. I now have a very strong testimony of my own and am able to share it with other people. I am grateful for that experience at the fireside.

How does it feel? The usual reply: “It’s out of sight.” Bob Brooksby, from Concord, California, has this to say: “The first time I jumped I was scared stiff. The second jump is fun. You say to yourself: ‘I did it once and I can do it again,’ and you do it. But it’s the third jump that gets to you. You realize what you’re doing, but you can’t believe you’re doing it.”

My name is Leeih Siu-Ling and I am a Latter-day Saint girl who lives in Hong Kong. Even though I have been a member of the Church only five months, I realize how important the gospel is and I want to share this happiness with my friends at school.
I decided to introduce one of my friends to the Church. I invited her to go to Primary with me. She said, “I go to Buddhist school so I can’t go to your church with you.”
I told her she would be welcome to go with me even though she was not a member of the Church, and she decided she would. She felt a warmth and happiness in our Heavenly Father’s house, and she said going to Primary made her want to keep all the commandments of our Father in heaven.
I tried to tell her about the gospel too, and so her faith grew stronger and stronger. Then she asked if she could hear the missionary discussions.
Now she and I go to Church meetings together!

When I was 15, I wasn’t making the best decisions. I was mingling with the wrong crowd, and I was often surrounded by many temptations—some of which I indulged in. At first my decisions were inconsequential, but eventually I found myself in a very dark place. I hid a lot of what I was doing from my family, and I felt so alone. I wasn’t sure where to turn. I truly believed that God didn’t love me.
On one particularly difficult day, I suddenly had the thought that I should start reading the Book of Mormon. I had read it before, but not with a true desire to learn from its messages. On every page I felt warmth in my heart as I found truths from the Savior telling me that I could change with His help. I felt like I wanted to “sing the song of redeeming love” (Alma 5:26).
After studying the Book of Mormon and its Christ-centered messages, I was able to gain the courage I needed to open up about my choices to my mother. As we were returning home from the bus station one day, I talked to her and told her about some of the poor decisions I had been making. I expected her to be angry, but she wasn’t. She didn’t even judge me. Instead, she expressed how much she loved me, and through her love, I felt God’s love for the first time in my life as well.
As I continued praying and reading the scriptures, I mustered up courage once again to speak with my bishop and begin the repentance process. As I asked him if I could meet with him, he invited me into his office, and we began with a prayer. After we spoke, I began to cry in a way I hadn’t ever cried before. I shared all my mistakes with him, and I could literally feel the love of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ lifting the shame and heavy load I had been carrying off my shoulders.
My bishop was nothing but compassionate, causing me to feel the love of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ again. He taught me that the process of repentance was the way to be sanctified and, along with it, forgiven of our mistakes. In that moment, I realized how repentance is truly a gift of love from our Heavenly Father and Savior. I always think of just how much They love me because of the scripture in Doctrine and Covenants 19 where the Savior says, “For behold, I, God, have suffered these things for all, that they might not suffer if they would repent” (verse 16).
I appreciate that because of Jesus Christ and His Atonement, we have the chance to improve and become better. I have experienced the truth that our hearts can be changed when we have sincere intentions and realize Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love us.
Repentance is truly a gift of love from our Heavenly Father and Savior. The blessings I have gained from this experience and many others are greater than I imagined, and “my soul was filled with joy as exceeding as was my pain!” (Alma 36:20). Experiencing the Savior’s healing power in my life has reminded me of how deeply loved we are and always have been.

Anton watched as the computer screen loaded level six for what seemed like the millionth time. He took a deep breath and started moving through the maze, flying over colorful spikes and through fiery tunnels. He tapped his foot faster as he got closer and closer to the finish line.
“Anton?” It was Mom’s voice. She sounded like she needed something.
“Not now!” he thought. He jumped over another spike and sped deep through another tunnel. “Yes?” he said, not moving his eyes from the screen.
“Would you please get Felix into his pajamas and read him a story? I’ve got to finish cleaning up the kitchen.”
“Um … ,” He was so close! He curved through one last spiky corridor, over another flame, past a chomping monster, and … YES! across the finish line!
The computer loaded level seven. It looked harder, but Anton couldn’t wait to try it. He had worked so hard to reach this level. Anton hit the pause button and looked up at Mom, who was holding his little brother, Felix. “Can I have just a few more minutes? I just got to level seven!”
“I really need your help,” Mom said. “You can do one more level after you take care of Felix.”
Felix smiled. “Pwease?” he said in his tiny two-year-old voice.
Anton looked at the computer screen and sighed. “All right.” He’d just have to hurry so he could get back to his game.
He lifted Felix and carried him up the stairs to their room.
“Who’s my favorite baby brother?” he said, poking Felix’s squishy baby tummy. He blew on Felix’s stomach and smiled as Felix squealed with laughter.
Anton dressed Felix in his favorite dinosaur pajamas. Then he lifted Felix into bed and headed for the door. Mom had told him to read Felix a story too, but he had done the important part. Maybe now he could get in two more levels before bedtime.
Just then Anton felt a tug on his shirt. He looked down and saw that Felix had climbed out of bed.
“Bear?” Felix asked. He ran to his basket of books and brought back a book with a polar bear on the front.
“Aw, Felix, I’ve got things to do!” Anton said. Felix held the book above his head, looking up at Anton with his big brown eyes.
Anton couldn’t help but grin. “You won’t take no for an answer, will you? Well, OK.”
Anton sat down on Felix’s bed, and Felix climbed up into his lap. Anton opened to the first page and read while Felix leaned against him. Felix pointed to each animal on the page and practiced saying its name. “Zee-ba … famingo … wah-wus.”
When it was over, Anton closed the book and tucked Felix’s blanket around him. “Good night, Felix,” he said, kissing Felix on the head and standing to go.
But as he walked toward the door, he heard that little voice again. “Snuggle?”
Anton smiled. “OK. Scoot over. I’ll stay for a bit.”
Anton lay down on the pillow. At least for now, he didn’t really feel like doing anything else. He smiled when Felix gave a big yawn and closed his eyes. He felt the happiest he’d been all day. His game could wait.

“Dear brothers and sisters, my talk is on friendship with my next-door neighbor, Shawn Bell, whom most of you know.
“When Shawn first moved next door, there was always trouble between us. The first day I saw Shawn, he threw a toy truck at me and hit me in the face, which gave me two scars, one underneath my nose and one above my left eye.
“When I was in kindergarten, I went to the morning class and Shawn went to the afternoon class. Shawn would wait for me on his way to school as I would be coming home. He would beat me up and go on to school, and I would go home with a bloody nose or a fat lip.
“When I was nine, I was baptized into the Church. That’s when Shawn started going to church with me, and then last February he was baptized into the Church. Since Shawn and I have been going to Church together, we’ve acted like brothers and we’ve had fun in Scouts together. Scouting has helped Shawn and me do things together without much trouble.
“The meaning of this talk is the meaning of a fair friendship. I hope you, too, will bring one of your deadly enemies into the Church. I know the Church is true.” (Matt Taylor.)

The testimony of the Prophet Joseph continues to change lives. Some years ago I served as the president of the Canadian Mission. In Ontario, Canada, two of our missionaries were proselyting door-to-door on a cold, snowy afternoon. They had not had any measure of success. One elder was experienced; one was new.

The two called at the home of Mr. Elmer Pollard, and he, feeling sympathy for the almost frozen missionaries, invited them in. They presented their message and asked if he would join in prayer. He agreed, on the provision that he could offer the prayer.

The prayer he offered astonished the missionaries. He said, “Heavenly Father, bless these two unfortunate, misguided missionaries that they may return to their homes and not waste their time telling the people of Canada about a message which is so fantastic and about which they know so little.”

As they arose from their knees, Mr. Pollard asked the missionaries never to return to his home. As they left, he said mockingly to them, “You can’t tell me you really believe that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God anyway!” and he slammed the door.

The missionaries had walked but a short distance when the junior companion said timidly, “Elder, we didn’t answer Mr. Pollard.”

The senior companion responded: “We’ve been rejected. Let’s move on.”

The young missionary persisted, however, and the two returned to Mr. Pollard’s door. Mr. Pollard answered the knock and angrily said, “I thought I told you young men never to return!”

The junior companion then said, with all the courage he could muster, “Mr. Pollard, when we left your door, you said that we didn’t really believe Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. I want to testify to you, Mr. Pollard, that I know Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, that by inspiration he translated the sacred record known as the Book of Mormon, that he did see God the Father and Jesus the Son.” The missionaries then departed the doorstep.

I heard this same Mr. Pollard in a testimony meeting state the experiences of that memorable day. He said, “That evening, sleep would not come. I tossed and turned. Over and over in my mind I heard the words, ‘Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. I know it. … I know it. … I know it.’ I could scarcely wait for morning to come. I telephoned the missionaries, using their number which was printed on the small card containing the Articles of Faith. They returned, and this time my wife, my family, and I joined in the discussion as earnest seekers of truth. As a result, we have all embraced the gospel of Jesus Christ. We shall ever be grateful to the testimony of truth brought to us by those two courageous, humble missionaries.”

After the mission, all of my pre-mission life goals seemed unattainable with my new health condition. But with time I realized that there were goals I could accomplish while lying down. I called goals such as reading Jesus the Christ “horizontal goals” and worked on them daily.

In 1887 Patriarch John Smith said to a young man, age 13, “For the eye of the Lord is upon thee—the Lord has a work for thee to do, in which thou shalt see much of the world. It shall be thy lot to sit in council with thy brethren, and preside among the people, and exhort the saints to faithfulness.” (Llewelyn R. McKay, Highlights in the Life of President David O. McKay, Deseret Book Co., 1966, p. 38.) A confirmation of this took place in far-off Scotland, in a meeting high in spiritual manifestation, when a Latter-day Saint of Scotch ancestry spoke. Those who were there heard President James L. McMurrin address one of those present and prophesy that he would sit in the highest councils of the Church. That one sat in the highest councils of the Church in the person of President David O. McKay. (See Highlights in the Life of President David O. McKay, pp. 37–38.)

When President Young and his brethren stood atop the peak to the north of us and spoke of an ensign to the nations, they soon put in place a program to implement it, and this notwithstanding the circumstances in which they found themselves. In August of 1852, only five years later, a special conference was held in the old tabernacle on this square. President Heber C. Kimball opened by saying:
“We have come together today, according to previous appointment, to hold a special conference to transact business, a month earlier than usual, inasmuch as there are elders to be selected to go to the missions of the earth, and they want an earlier start than formerly. …
“The missions we will call for during this conference are, generally, not to be very long ones; probably from three to seven years will be as long as any man will be absent from his family.”

The clerk then read ninety-eight names of individuals who had been proposed for foreign missions. (Joseph I. Earl Family History, p. 1.)

To me it is a thing of wonder that at a time when our people were struggling to gain a foothold in these mountains, they put the spread of the gospel ahead of comfort, security, the well-being of their families, and all other considerations. Across the broad prairie between the mountains of the West and the Missouri and Mississippi rivers there were two bodies of Latter-day Saints moving in opposite directions. Missionaries traveling to the eastern states and Europe passed converts gathering from those lands to the Zion of the West. There was likewise a movement to the West Coast and across the Pacific, with elders going to Hawaii, even to Hong Kong, China, Siam, Ceylon, and India. This was all part of this grand vision of an ensign to the nations. It has gone on ever since, and it goes on today at an accelerated pace. In a hundred nations missionaries of the Church are teaching the doctrines of salvation.

Chandler also lives what she believes. Not long ago her family was fostering a dog they called Puppy. Puppy had been mistreated the first nine months of his life, then was taken away from the people who mistreated him. But he was now skittish and frightened of people. Before he could be adopted, he had to learn to trust people and to get along with children. Teaching him that was what the Altieri family volunteered to do.
One day, he got loose and ran away. “We looked and looked for him,” Sister Altieri said, “but we couldn’t find him. Some of us got in the car to go looking for him. As I was driving, Chandler said a prayer, asking Heavenly Father to help us find Puppy. We had driven miles, and I thought that we’d never see the dog again. We turned down a road that ran along railroad tracks. Beside the tracks were thick woods. And by the railroad track, we could just see this head sticking up—it was Puppy! I’ll never forget it.”
Mom said how amazed she was that they found Puppy. “But we said a prayer, Mom,” was Chandler’s simple reply. She knows that Heavenly Father answers her prayers. Eventually Puppy learned to trust people and to play with children, and he was adopted by a good family.

“Now let’s get started,” I said, a little bit worried at the thought of performing my first baptismal interview. Nevertheless, I was doing my best to feel confident so everyone would feel comfortable.
“Okay, teacher,” replied the middle-aged Cambodian woman seated across from me. The elders in my district had been holding a successful school to teach English to the Southeast Asian refugees who had settled in California’s San Joaquin Valley. Because of this school we were able to make a great deal of contacts, all of whom continued to address them and all other missionaries as “teacher.”
For the last several days I had been studying and practicing the questions, and I was confident that there would be no problem at all with the interview. The elders that had been teaching her assured me that she spoke English well enough so she would not need a translator. I said the prayer and began asking the questions.
“Have you prayed about the gospel of Jesus Christ, and have your prayers been answered?”
The smile on her face widened and she began to laugh. Her head shook back and forth and she said, “I don’t know, teacher.”
Remembering that English could be a difficult language, I asked the question in a simpler way: “Do you know that the Church is true?”
Once again, she looked at me as if she did not understand a thing I had said, began to laugh, and said “I … I don’t know.”
I was puzzled. As far as I knew, she had expressed the desire to be baptized, and she was attending the branch in the area that held services in Cambodian. What could I do? There was no way that I could allow her to be baptized without an interview, but she wasn’t understanding any of the questions, no matter how simple I tried to make them.
Not knowing what else to do, I reached for a missionary flip-chart that the elders had given me in case I ran into difficulty. I flipped through the gospel principles that were written out in four or five of the languages used by the Asian people who had come into the valley. Somewhere near what appeared to be the first discussion I found a picture of the Savior. In desperation, I showed her the picture and asked, “Do you know Jesus Christ?”
All of a sudden her face brightened and she began to nod her head back and forth excitedly. “Yes, teacher, yes, yes. I love Jesus Christ,” she cried in obvious recognition of the picture in front of her.
Finally we found something we both could understand. Not being very familiar with the English language, she had summed up all of the words and emotions that give a positive message into one word: love. Through the same process I was able to determine that she loved Joseph Smith, President Benson, the Ten Commandments, and the law of tithing.
In asking her about the Word of Wisdom, I was able to find in the flip-chart a picture of some bottles of beer, cigarette packages, and cups of coffee. When I showed her these things that violated the laws of Jesus Christ, she reacted violently, shaking her head and declaring, “No, no teacher, no.”
When the interview was over, she had satisfactorily answered all of the questions, usually by doing no more than sharing with me her love for a particular person or concept. That afternoon I received a witness of the Spirit stronger than I have ever had that told me that she was prepared in every way for baptism. I congratulated her and told her that she could be baptized, and her face brightened again as she said, “Thank you, teacher, I love you.”
When she said this, I thought of the answer that Jesus Christ gave when he was asked which was the greatest of all the laws: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.
“This is the first and great commandment.
“And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself” (Matt. 22:37–39).
Although this woman humbly addressed me as “teacher,” her responses during the interview had taught me a wonderful lesson. She had learned the essence of the gospel: she loved Jesus Christ unconditionally, and she loved everyone around her. Nobody had to convince her to keep the commandments of the Savior; it came naturally for her. She loved Jesus Christ and wouldn’t think of knowingly breaking any of his laws.
Since that interview I have heard many powerful testimonies of the gospel. I have listened to people relate fantastic spiritual experiences and the Spirit has borne witness to each one. I have never, however, been affected by a testimony in quite the same way as I was during that interview in a humble apartment when a simple refugee housewife said to me, “Yes, teacher, I love Jesus Christ.”

I’d like to tell you a baseball story. The event of which I speak occurred in the World Series of 1912. It was the last game, and the score was tied 1–1. The Boston Red Sox were at bat, the New York Giants in the field. A Boston batter knocked a high-arching fly. Two New York players ran for it. Center fielder Fred Snodgrass signaled that he would take it. He came squarely under the ball, which fell into his glove—then went right through his hands and fell to the ground! The roaring fans couldn’t believe it. He had caught hundreds of fly balls before. But now, at this crucial moment, he had dropped the ball. The Boston Red Sox won the series.
Snodgrass played brilliant ball for nine more years. But after that one slip, when he was introduced to anybody, the expected response was, “Oh, yes, you’re the one who dropped the ball.”

Not long ago I was asked to speak at the funeral of a dear friend who had committed suicide. Knowing the person and the circumstances as I did, and researching the doctrine on the subject, I had some difficult moments in preparing for my remarks. Peace came to me only when I recognized that only the Lord could administer fair judgment. He alone had all the facts, and only He would know the intent of the heart of my friend. I was reconciled with the idea that a lifetime of goodness and service to others must surely be considered by the Lord in judging the life of a person. In the Lord’s mercy, perhaps the words of Alma will apply:
“The plan of restoration is requisite with the justice of God; for it is requisite that all things should be restored to their proper order. Behold, it is requisite and just, according to the power and resurrection of Christ, that the soul of man should be restored to its body, and that every part of the body should be restored to itself.
“And it is requisite with the justice of God that men should be judged according to their works; and if their works were good in this life, and the desires of their hearts were good, that they should also, at the last day, be restored unto that which is good.” (Alma 41:2–3.)

The current conventional wisdom is that more is better and less is usually undesirable. For some, the pursuit to acquire more of this world’s goods and services has become a passion. For others, more of this world’s wealth is necessary just to sustain life or raise living standards to a minimum level. The unbridled desire for more often has tragic consequences. For example, President Boyd K. Packer reminded us: “We could be like a father determined to provide everything for his family. He devotes every energy to that end and succeeds; only then does he discover that what they needed most—to be together as a family—has been neglected. And he reaps sorrow in place of contentment” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1998, 28; or Ensign, Nov. 1998, 22).

“Are we going to make this marriage work, or not?” he asked.
Seven months married, six months pregnant, I sat on the bed, tears streaming down my cheeks and spotting my nightgown. I couldn’t give my husband an answer!
Jim, a nonmember, and a lieutenant junior grade aboard a U.S. destroyer, sailed out of San Diego, California, harbor every other week. He loved his duty, his friends aboard ship, and coming home to his sweetheart. But I was miserable! Because I was alone every other week and living in a strange city with no friends, no family, and (since I was inactive) no Church affiliation, I sank often into a state of despondency. Morning sickness, nausea, and a growing waistline did not improve my attitude. I felt trapped!
At the end of each “out to sea” week, Jim would return, ever the optimistic, expecting to find a happy, smiling wife. But after too many days of lonely vigilance, I was anything but sunshine. A dark gloomy cloud settled over our little rented bungalow. Doubts assailed me. I wasn’t sure I loved him. He didn’t seem to understand me or my needs. Was this what wedded bliss was supposed to be like? We had tried to talk it out before, but each time we satisfied only surface deficiencies, never the real problem.
Now we sat facing each other across the bed, our relationship teetering seriously. What were we going to do? The word divorce arose. Is that what we wanted? It carried a sound of finality, of permanency, and made us involuntarily shudder. But how could we change?
We sat in silence, pondering. Then Jim looked up. “Judith,” he said, “I think our problem is one of selfishness. Are you willing to make an honest effort to try an experiment? For the next thirty days, I’ll think only of you and your needs, and you think only of me and my needs. If at the end of that time our marriage has not improved, then we’ll talk about … about another solution.”
I agreed. I wanted—hungered for—happiness.
“But we must guard against one thing,” Jim warned. “We must not predetermine each other’s actions judging them against what we would like. Our wants may be out of proportion to what we receive, and disappointment may occur. This is to be a total concentration of what we can do for each other.”
The next morning I slipped out of bed early, fighting nausea and bleary eyes. Jim loved large hot breakfasts; I preferred sleeping later, with a light morning snack. Nevertheless, I cooked a large breakfast for him. Jim smelled the food and came into the kitchen smiling. So much for sleeping in! Even though every morning I still fought nausea, I cooked special breakfasts.
“Honey, I can hardly wait to get up in the morning just to see what exciting menu is on the table,” Jim said. “You’re a marvelous cook and I love it!” With this encouragement, my breakfasts continued to improve—and so did my willingness to prepare them.
The second big change came during those week-long assignments when Jim was out to sea. I took walks every day, started conversations with the local grocer and his wife, immersed myself in uplifting books and music, and shut every thought of self-pity out of my mind. Fridays required long preparation. I knew his optimism envisioned me running out the door and into his arms—so I ran! And then I led him back into the house to a carefully prepared meal. Romance blossomed again!
One night he said, “I feel like seeing a movie. Would you like to go?” Actually, I was tired and thinking about retiring early, but I remembered the commitment and grabbed my coat. Perhaps the hardest part is doing what you don’t feel like doing, without minding. The key, I’ve found, is attitude. Discomfort becomes insignificant when you have a genuine desire to please each other.
Of course I didn’t do all the changing in our marriage. Jim, too, kept his part of the commitment—and he did it in ways he knew would be most meaningful to me. His largest contribution was personalized attention. Five-minute rubdowns to my aching limbs and back expanded to an hour, soothing my nerves as well as my body. He provided more opportunities for talk and relaxation—taking me away from our four walls on weekends into the sunshine, to the beach, or to the park for archery or picnics. And he listened more attentively to what I was feeling and going through. He perceived how easily my feelings of confidence could fail, and so he reminded me of my positive traits during those periods to bolster my ego.
Even though he was only twenty-three years old, Jim commanded one hundred men aboard ship—men who saluted and followed his orders daily. Sometimes I had suspected he unconsciously desired the same behavior from me. But, happily, during our thirty day experiment, that harsh edge disappeared. In a matter of two weeks, I began to feel cherished, appreciated, and loved.
Our “extreme” commitment meant keeping each other’s needs always in the background of our thoughts; it meant asking ourselves each day “What can I do for him/her? How can I show I care?” It meant—for both of us—literally eliminating the feelings and thought of “I demand!” and “What about me?” and “Why doesn’t he/she … ?”
At first changes in our marriage were changes of attitude, but they were based upon the true principle of unselfishness, and our understanding and acceptance of the principle dictated our actions. We paid the price to please each other, and in that process discovered the beginnings of true love. All it took was to give instead of take; to be thoughtful instead of thoughtless; to desire to please rather than be pleased.

At an age when many kids are trying to establish their personal independence and want to avoid their parents as much as possible, it’s a little unusual to see that Treasure and Mindy’s parents are their best friends.
“They say we can tell them anything, and no matter what we do, they’ll still love us, even if they don’t love what we did,” says Treasure.
“And I believe that,” says Mindy. “They’ve proven it.” One time Mindy was out with a group of friends who were doing a little mischief in people’s yards. Mindy wasn’t actually involved, but a few hours later a state trooper pulled into their driveway and collected Mindy to go help them clean up.
“My parents told me I shouldn’t have been with those kids, and they were right,” says Mindy. “I got punished, but they hugged me first and told me they loved me. It’s always been like that.”

Even a pandemic couldn’t break up my true friendships. When we couldn’t be together in person, we still found ways to be with each other. We love to laugh and sing together. I love sharing moments with my friends. I’m grateful for each one of them.