Gospel Story Finder

Even though she was 90 years old, Aletha Gilbert of the Lakeview Ward, Bountiful Utah Central Stake, loved to invite her family over for family home evening. Before her death in 2002, Aletha wrote of these special home evenings: “I make sure I have a supply of pens or pencils, writing paper, and envelopes. Sometimes I address the envelopes in advance. We each write a message to missionaries in the family and ward. What fun! Everyone likes this idea—the one who sends it and the one who receives it.”

While most of their southern California peers were getting suntans at the beach, the youth of the Glendora California Stake spent their spring break getting rough hands, aching muscles, and sore feet from serving at a center for the homeless in the heart of Los Angeles.
And they wouldn’t trade the experience for any other. “Serving at the center was the greatest thing we could have ever done for a youth conference,” said Heath Hamilton, seventeen.
At first, some of the youth were skeptical. Chris Walker, a priest, said, “Lots of people thought that it couldn’t be a youth conference without going on an outing to the mountains or some place like that. Those who went to the center discovered that this is what the gospel is all about—helping someone else, not yourself. It really impressed upon me the statement in Mosiah 2:17 where it says ‘When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.’”
Jeremy Baird, a teacher, said, “I thought this youth conference wasn’t going to be very good, but it was a great learning experience. At the center for the homeless, I talked to a man who had been successful in business, but now had no home and had lost his family as a result of drugs. It taught me that what I had thought about all the people who are homeless is not true.”
Some people were a little concerned about going to the center, which is located in a less desirable part of the city. Caroline James, a Mia Maid, said, “When we first got to the center, we were scared to get out of the car. After we were there, though, it was a good experience talking to the people about the Church.”
Two three-hour shifts of twelve young people each went to the Los Angeles center for the homeless daily, where they served a noon meal and an evening meal to nearly six hundred homeless people. They also sorted clothes and helped prepare for the Easter meals.
In addition, the youth filled more than 150 Easter baskets with toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap, and other personal hygiene items. Collection boxes had been placed in each ward building and in several community locations to receive the donated items. Some candy and cuddly toy animals were included for the children, and the baskets were distributed Sunday afternoon.
On Sunday, the youth committee and leaders traveled the twenty-five miles from their homes to downtown Los Angeles, in two shifts, so no one would have to miss any Church meetings. Tables were set up next to the center, where breakfast was served in the early morning and a traditional Easter dinner was served in the afternoon. Nearly 2,500 meals were served on each shift.
When most of the serving was complete, the youth were invited to sing. “As I Have Loved You” and “I Am a Child of God” brought tears to everyone involved.
“All the homeless there at the center were reaching out for something in addition to the food we were serving. I know it is the gospel they need,” said Harleigh Williams, seventeen.
After serving the Sunday meal, many of the youth sat around talking to the homeless. Jeff Fuller discussed Bible principles with one man. “This was definitely one of the best experiences of my life,” he said. “They are all children of God. They gave me great advice on staying away from things by telling me how they got there.”
Of course, the youth conference did include the traditional activities like breakfast prepared by the bishops, workshops, games, and a dance. But at the fireside ending the conference, the main topic of the testimonies was the service project and how it had affected the young people’s lives.
“I know that you who had a negative attitude going down there definitely changed your attitude about the needy. It was by far the most rewarding youth conference I have ever participated in,” said Lisa Summerhays, seventeen, youth co-chair of the conference.
Justin Beck, the other youth co-chair said, “I know the people at the center have problems, but we still need to appreciate them because Heavenly Father loves each of them.”
Becky Patterson, seventeen, agreed. “One thing I have learned this week is that everybody is equally important. It doesn’t matter who or where you are; Heavenly Father loves you.”
“The most important thing,” said Sister Arnetus Raymond, second counselor in the stake Young Women presidency, “is that we learned that to develop love and unity, we have to serve. Service is the key. Our youth learned firsthand the meaning of serving ‘one of the least of these.’”

As her fellow Saints planned to gather to Missouri in 1838, Cyrena felt determined to join them. This caused further tension with her family and was a “severe blow” for her father. He had been sympathetic toward the Church but could not bear the thought of her leaving. She recounted that “when he found that I was determined to go, he requested me to leave home immediately, that he might become reconciled to the separation before I left entirely.” However, she felt that “his real motive was a hope that I might become so homesick that I would give up the idea of going with the Saints and return home again to stay.” Unable to remain in her family home, she relied on the kindness of a neighbor and fellow Latter-day Saint, Alexander Stanley, who took her in and “was like a father” to her.4

Before the Saints left Ohio, Cyrena returned to her parents’ home to say goodbye. Her parents tearfully begged her to stay. When that failed to change her mind, her father threatened to have her “arrested and brought back by a process of law.”5 Despite her family’s pleas, Cyrena remained determined to go and bore her testimony of the truth of the gospel before leaving.

Although Cyrena feared setting off on her own, she trusted in the Lord and His promises. She soon found that her new religious community, her fellow Saints, cared for her as if she were part of their families. Because she lived in Alexander Stanley’s home for a short time, she was able to set out with his company for Far West, Missouri.

It was in March of 1845 that Thoreau decided to move out on the banks of Walden Pond and spend two years trying to figure out what life was all about. He settled on a piece of property owned by his good friend Ralph Waldo Emerson. He purchased an old shanty from a railroad worker, and tore it down. From the lumber from the shanty and the lumber from the woods, he constructed his own cabin. He kept meticulous financial records, and he concluded that for a home and freedom he spent a mere $28.12. He planted a garden, where he sowed peas, potatoes, corn, beans, and turnips to help sustain his simple life. He planted two and a half acres of beans with the intent of using the small profit to cover his needs. Small profit indeed: $8.71.
Thoreau lived quite independent of time. He had neither a clock nor a calendar in his little cabin. He spent his time writing and studying the beauties and wonder of nature that surrounded him, including local plants, birds, and animals. He did not live the life of a hermit—he visited the town of Concord most days, and he invited others to come into his cabin for enlightening conversations. When the two years ended, he left his cabin behind without regret. He considered the time he had spent there a proper amount of time to accomplish his purpose—to experience the spiritual benefits of a simplified lifestyle. He also felt he had other life experiences ahead of him. It was time to move on and explore other opportunities.
From his experiences at Walden Pond, Thoreau determined that there were only four things that a man really needed: food, clothing, shelter, and fuel. I would like to expand on each of these four basic needs of life, as well as the spiritual benefits of a simplified lifestyle.

This story happened in the USA.
Kat rubbed her prosthetic arm nervously as Mom drove down the dirt road. “Mom, I’m scared.”
Mom gave her a soft smile. “I know. But I think you will like summer camp, honey. Think of all the new kids you will meet.”
Kat said nothing, but inside she thought, That’s what I’m afraid of.
Soon they arrived at the day camp. Mom went with Kat to talk to her camp counselor, Brian. “Kat had her arm amputated as a baby,” Mom told him. “It won’t affect how she plays, but sometimes it makes meeting new people a little hard.”
“Don’t worry, Kat,” said Brian. “We’re all happy to have you here.”
Kat had fun meeting the kids in her group. They named themselves the Purple Tigers. They went on a hike, ate cheese and crackers, and had foot races. Kat was one of the fastest in the group.
At the end of the day, Brian announced that they would compete against another group in a sack race. Kat hoped the Purple Tigers would win!
When it was her turn, Kat pulled the sack around her knees and began to jump. But the sack was hard to hold up with one hand, and she tripped over the heavy fabric. Kat fell and rolled onto the grass. By the time she got back up, the other team had finished the race. Kat’s team had lost.
That night at dinner, Kat told her parents about the sack-race disaster. “I don’t want to go back to camp,” she said. “The team lost because of me. They won’t want me to come back.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Mom gave Kat a hug. “I’m sure your new friends still love you. And you know who will always love you no matter what?”
“You will.” Kat smiled a little.
“Yes. We love you! And so does your Heavenly Father. You’re His child too, remember?”
“It sounds like you had fun before the sack race,” said Dad. “Why don’t you give camp one more try?”
Kat nodded. “OK.”
Dad smiled. “Try to notice when people are kind to you. And look for ways to be kind to others. That always helps me when I’m having a hard time.”
The next day at camp, the kids from Kat’s group greeted her with high-fives and hugs. No one mentioned the sack race, and Kat forgot how worried she had been. She told jokes with her new friends while they waited for the activities to start.
Then Counselor Brian walked over to the group. Next to him was a boy Kat’s age. “Attention, Purple Tigers,” said Brian, “we have a new friend today. His name is Rodrigo. Rodrigo only speaks Spanish, so we are trying to find a counselor who speaks Spanish to help him.”
Kat was learning Spanish at her school, but she only knew a little. She was too scared to try to talk to Rodrigo.
Then she looked at him. He looked scared too. Not speaking the same language as the other kids must be hard, she thought. She knew how it felt to be different.
Kat remembered how all her new friends had welcomed her to the group. They made her feel loved, just like Jesus would. She wanted to do that for Rodrigo too.
Kat remembered how to say “hello” in Spanish. So she took a deep breath and walked up to Rodrigo. “Hola,” she said with a smile.
Rodrigo’s worried look went away, and he smiled back. Kat held out her prosthetic hand.
“¿Amigos?” she asked. Friends?
Rodrigo’s smile got bigger. He took her hand and shook it. “Amigos.”
How did Kat follow Jesus?
Illustration by Flavia Drago

As we cultivate the Spirit in our own hearts, we become more able to teach, to reach other hearts by the Spirit. (See 2 Ne. 33:1.) On the other hand, if we lack the Spirit, our children may perceive insincerity, even though we say all the right words. They may feel that we are trying to force them into obedience, and they may resist us. One six-year-old, for example, caused a disturbance in a supermarket, demanding candy and pulling cans off a shelf when she didn’t get it. Instead of disciplining her more kindly, her exasperated mother gripped the little girl by the shoulders and harshly told her to sit down. “I’ll be sitting down on the outside,” her daughter responded, “but I’ll be standing up on the inside!”

When we teach through the Spirit—“and the Spirit shall be given unto you by the prayer of faith” (D&C 42:14)—there are a number of things we can do consciously to help our children learn to recognize, seek, and be guided by their own spiritual feelings.
1. Help them learn to pray. We need to start when they are very young, kneeling with them morning and night. In this setting, we can express love for each other and for Heavenly Father. By participating in this sacred experience over and over, children can form the habit of returning frequently to the reverence, love, security, and peace associated with prayer.
Personal prayer can become their private spiritual haven, but family prayer also provides important opportunities to experience spiritual feelings. Even tiny children are able to sense its reverential tones and worshipful peace. Of course, children can sometimes be disruptive and parents impatient, but the repeated experience of praying together can soften and strengthen everyone involved. One of our older children once said of a younger sister, “When I hear Jenny talk to Heavenly Father, I catch a glimpse of heaven.” We also have a son who, as a rambunctious three-year-old, was often subdued when he heard his name spoken in family prayer.
2. Keep the peace. A consistently serene atmosphere is essential for teaching spiritual things. Because the Spirit speaks in “a still small voice” (1 Ne. 17:45), it is difficult to discern spiritual feelings amid commotion, especially contention. We parents need to start with ourselves in this matter. By repentance and faith, we should strive always to be peacemakers in our families. We should speak softly and respectfully, express love and appreciation, apologize and forgive readily, and be cheerful. Success in these efforts may not come quickly, but home is the perfect place for practicing a better way again and again. Success will come more easily if we rid our homes of worldly influences, including television programs, videos, music, and reading materials that offend the Lord’s Spirit.
3. Teach the gospel at their level. The doctrines of the kingdom, taught in their simplicity and purity, have an everlasting impact on children as the Spirit bears confirming witness. In some respects, our children are like investigators in the gospel, inquiring and learning. When they ask questions and express thoughts that seem only remotely connected to the subject during family home evening, we should take their comments seriously and encourage thinking on their part, even though taking time to handle their concerns may keep us from getting through the lesson just as we planned. Supporting them in this way teaches children to trust their own feelings.
4. Lead them in wholesome family activities. Carefully selected activities can remove the family from worldly influences into a circle of peace and loving mutual support. The sense of belonging to an eternal family, which is a spiritual feeling, will serve children as a divine reference point by which to measure other relationships. Gangs and other damaging groups would have far less appeal if youth were spiritually bonded to their families.
One of our daughters has told us that the most meaningful times of her childhood and youth came “when the family was all together and no one was upset, and we sat around and talked and sang and felt the Spirit of the Lord. I was completely happy.”
5. Talk to them at every opportunity. Some of our favorite recollections are of heart-to-heart conversations when our children were eager to delay bedtime. We listened, asking just enough questions to encourage a child to recount the joys and disappointments of the day. Never have we found better opportunities to initiate talk about feelings and to point out, in terms of the child’s daily experiences, how the Spirit may have been heeded or ignored. These opportunities for sharing spiritual feelings with a child can also be found during ordinary daily activities like working in the garden, cleaning up the dishes, and going on errands.
6. Listen for spiritual promptings. We can be alert for opportunities to help our children welcome the Spirit’s influence—opportunities for them to feel gratitude, to reflect on blessings, to receive inspiration. One mother shared a story that illustrates the way parents can give gentle guidance in situations like these.
After a school carnival, her younger sons, Richard and Joe, were excited that they each had won a twenty-five-cent balsa-wood airplane, and her oldest son, Sam, was elated at having won two of them. But as the boys climbed into bed, Richard accidentally knelt on his airplane and broke it into pieces. He seemed inconsolable. The mother suggested that Sam share one of his planes. “Mom,” he replied, “how could you ask me to do something so hard?”
Gently, she reminded him of the gift of the Holy Ghost he had received after baptism. “Listen to your heart,” she added. “You will be able to decide what to do.”
A few minutes later, Richard wiped away his tears as he thanked Sam for the gift. And Sam wrote in his journal: “When I was getting the airplane for Rich, I felt a smile and a warm feeling in my heart. It was so warm I was about to burst. I could barely sleep that night ‘cause I felt that super amazing burst in my heart.” He told his mother that he knew the Holy Ghost had helped him make the decision.
Teaching about the Spirit seems particularly difficult when things are going badly at home. Our first impulse may be to take harsh measures with our children, perhaps to criticize, belittle, or condemn. At times like these, it is more important than ever to seek the Spirit ourselves and to restore peace by its influence and guidance. When we respond to disobedience, contention, or rebelliousness in this way, we invite healing through the Spirit and teach our families of the peace it brings.
“You can’t force your boys, nor your girls into heaven. You may force them to hell by using harsh means in the efforts to make them good, when you yourselves are not as good as you should be. … You can only correct your children by love, in kindness, by love unfeigned, and reason” (Joseph F. Smith, Gospel Doctrine, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1971, page 317). This may require listening to children’s complaints or frustrations patiently while we fight the urge to force them to behave correctly. It may mean confessing our shortcomings to them and asking their forgiveness. It may cause us to weep with them over whatever has gone wrong. It may require that we leave what we are doing, however important we may think it is, and attend to our children’s needs.
When we faithfully do this sacred work of teaching our children, we do not do it alone. “Sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven” (Hymns, 1985, number 27), and in no other endeavor do we need those blessings more than in nurturing our children’s spiritual sensitivity. The Lord has promised to help us. (See D&C 45:57–58.) The sacrifices we make, the tears we shed, and the prayers we offer are never wasted. The very fact that we try calls forth heavenly assistance.
“Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great” (D&C 64:33).

My wife, Alice Mae, and I were serving as senior missionaries in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA. We were in the next-to-last month of our mission when the degradation of my motor skills became too much to ignore. Following the advice of the mission doctor and nurse, I went to a local hospital.
I had an EKG and a CT scan. Then a neurologist met with me. She asked more questions and did more tests. Finally, to my surprise, she said, “Mr. Lemon, you have Parkinson’s disease.” It was not a diagnosis I expected, and it was certainly not a diagnosis that I wanted. But what could I do?
That was two years ago, and it started a process I have since grouped into four phases. I share them here hoping they may be helpful to others who are dealing with an unwelcome diagnosis. Here are some of the things I have learned.
I searched online. I bought some books. I met with another neurologist. I wanted to know what impact Parkinson’s disease (PD) might have on my life span and ability to function. As I gathered information, I also prayed for guidance. I knew that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ would help me to get the information and medical help I needed. I learned that PD doesn’t typically affect how long you live, but it does affect what you can do. It progresses differently from individual to individual. It gets worse over time. It is not curable.
Once the shock of the initial diagnosis passed, I gradually began to realize the disease was not going to go away. My wife and I talked about our future and what it would mean if I were to lose some of my mobility. What would happen if I couldn’t drive or walk? In one tender moment when I posed those questions to my dear wife, she answered simply and without hesitation, “Then I will take care of you.”
We were grateful we hadn’t waited to serve the Lord as full-time missionaries and that we had been able to serve while our health was still good. We were also grateful that we had moved into a smaller home with no stairs on the main floor, mostly hard floors rather than carpet, and grab bars near all the toilets and showers. We felt that the Lord had known we would need such a home someday and had prepared a way so that when we needed it, it was ready.
During the next few months, I spent a lot of time at home and had plenty of time to think. I grieved for the loss of the person I thought I would be in my later years. I grieved for the future that my wife and I had previously envisioned. I endured days of discouragement. I prayed a lot as my symptoms grew worse. My need to find positive ways of coping increased.
Then the Lord provided an unexpected source of support. My wife and I were called to be our ward’s welfare and self-reliance specialists. As part of our calling, we facilitated a group meeting on emotional resilience. I had not thought about needing the class personally. However, by the end of the first meeting, I thought, “Wow! This is for me!” We talked about avoiding negative thought patterns, being positive, controlling our feelings. It gave me some practical tools that, over time, helped me—and my wife as well—to develop a healthy attitude toward my disease.
I remember thinking one day, “If I was going to pick a disease for me, this would be the one.” Because at this point it doesn’t shorten my life, but it forces me to submit to the will of God. It’s given me no choice but to accept that, and that’s been a blessing. I am calmer, more at peace. I had always lived too much in the future, concerned about what the next chapter of my life would be. Parkinson’s disease has helped me to be content to live in the present, to do the good that I can do now. Gradually, I have learned to submit myself and my future to the Lord more completely and without reservation.
I studied scriptures that talk about growing from trials.1 I re-read talks and articles by Elder Neal A. Maxwell (1926–2004) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.2 I remembered an address in which Elder Richard G. Scott (1928–2015) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles counseled us in times of trial not to ask, “Why do I have to suffer this?” but rather “What am I to learn from this experience?”3
Throughout this process, I have found a level of peace, joy, and contentment that had previously eluded me. I’ve come to see that death and passing through the veil is just another “transfer” on my journey along the covenant path. It is part of God’s plan of happiness.
I made a small sign on my computer and put it on the wall of my home office where I see it every day. It says, “Be Good. Do Good. Be Content. Relax and Trust the Lord.”
Today, at this point in the progression of the disease, I carry on a fairly normal life. I can still drive a car. We were recently called as temple workers. There are things I can do and things that I can’t. I walk with a cane when I leave the house. I get emotional over small things but also have become more sensitive to the needs of others. I’m not sure how my future will unfold, but I have the reassurance that whatever happens, the Lord will help me to endure it well and to find joy. It’s been a good tutoring for me, and I don’t want to miss the lesson.4

Four years later, in 2002, my father and one of my sisters died just a week apart. I carried on, serving as a district missionary until I received my full-time mission call in July 2004 to serve in the South Africa Durban Mission. I was in the mission field just a few months when my brother called my mission president, informing him that my mother had died and had already been buried. Can you picture how it feels to lose such a mother? Four months later another sister died.
As a missionary, I had been teaching people about the restored gospel. Because of my testimony, I never worried about my losses. I had peace of mind and hope that in due time I would see my parents and sisters again. On the way home from my mission in July 2006, I went to the Johannesburg South Africa Temple and was baptized on behalf of my male family members who had passed on, and I had baptisms performed for my sisters who had died.

Last Easter during general conference, President Russell M. Nelson called on us to increase our faith.1 These last few months have been rather challenging for my family—physically, emotionally, financially and spiritually. Between March and May this year, a second surge of the pandemic hit Madagascar, my home country, in an unprecedented way, completely overwhelming the health system. Many people and even doctors were asking questions like, “What is happening to us?” “Where is God?” and “Are we such bad people to deserve such a calamity?”
Our family has not been spared, as my wife and I, most of my siblings and their spouses, and my parents were infected. My mother, my wife and I, having a more serious form of the disease, had to be hospitalized and were put together in a single room. After ten days of treatment and improvement, my wife and I were discharged with a recommendation to rest in bed for several more weeks.
My mother was left alone. Her feeling of loneliness turned to depression, as none of us could visit her. She then requested to be brought home and treated by me, a medical doctor. We all reasoned with her, as it was impossible to meet her oxygen needs at home. As her condition worsened, she became angry with all of us, and her desire to go home became a command. We finally were all convinced to bring her home as we miraculously found a solution to her oxygen supply needs. Once home, she slowly improved each day. But on the following Sunday morning, she suddenly went into cardiorespiratory arrest before my eyes. I immediately started, with the help of my brother, the best—and longest—resuscitation I have ever provided. We finally had to resign ourselves to the fact that she would pass away. With my eyes filled with tears, I signed the official medical death declaration for the woman who gave birth to me.
After comforting my loved ones, my mind became filled with questions and doubts. Had I, as a doctor, done something wrong in the care I had provided to my mother? Did we make the wrong decision in bringing her home? Those moments of doubts and questioning required me to work on increasing my faith to feel peace.
I received a call from Elder S. Mark Palmer, the Africa South Area President, who ministered to me with so much love. As I reported how my mother passed away for a reason I did not understand, he said: “As a doctor, you do not understand. But as a servant of the Lord, you do.”2
I have always had a strong faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, but what Elder Palmer said helped me get back on the right track.

While newlywed undergraduates at BYU, Christy and I learned valuable lessons about recognizing this type of prompting.

After my mission to Taiwan, I thought international law would be a good career choice. As Christy and I considered that possible future, we understood that five more years of expensive education lay ahead. The United States economy was in a deep recession and our funds were limited, so we reasoned that joining the air force ROTC would be a wise choice to pay for my schooling. But as I took the required tests and filled out the paperwork, we just could not get comfortable about making that commitment. No stupor of thought or dark feelings came—only an absence of peace. While joining the air force is a great option for some, we determined this was not the right course for us. Looking back, that seemingly illogical financial decision was inspired, in part, because I would have been a horrible lawyer!

There was a very popular book series I started reading. At first I liked it, but then it started getting scary and yucky. I felt uncomfortable. I did not feel the Holy Ghost. As I started the second book, it was the same and getting worse.
I talked with my mom about Article of Faith 13. These books weren’t like the article of faith, and I want to live like it says. Finally I stopped reading the books. I felt a lot better right away. I want to feel like that all the time, and I know I can if I use Article of Faith 13 as my guide.
Brooke B., age 10, Utah, USA

In April of 1847, Brigham Young led the first company of pioneers out of Winter Quarters. At that same time, 1,600 miles to the west the survivors of the Donner Party straggled down the slopes of the Sierra Nevada Mountains into the Sacramento Valley.
They had spent the ferocious winter trapped in the snowdrifts below the summit. That any survived the days and weeks and months of starvation and indescribable suffering is almost beyond belief.
Among them was 15-year-old John Breen. On the night of April 24 he walked into Johnson’s Ranch. Years later John wrote:
“It was long after dark when we got to Johnson’s Ranch, so the first time I saw it was early in the morning. The weather was fine, the ground was covered with green grass, the birds were singing from the tops of the trees, and the journey was over. I could scarcely believe that I was alive.
“The scene that I saw that morning seems to be photographed on my mind. Most of the incidents are gone from memory, but I can always see the camp near Johnson’s Ranch.”1
John Breen did not come to that morning at Johnson’s Ranch simply by desiring it. He wallowed and clawed his way up over the pass, suffering every step of the way. But once he knew he would survive and the suffering would end, surely he did not complain at the ordeal. And he had help all the way down. He was with rescuers.

“Mom, I’m bored,” Mindy said.
Mom had just picked Mindy up from her piano lesson, and now they were at the stake center waiting for Mindy’s sisters to finish rehearsing for the stake musical.
Her older sister, Jessica, and younger sister, Krista, had both gotten parts in the play. But Mindy didn’t get a part. She envied her sisters a little, but she was also kind of glad she wouldn’t have to perform in front of the whole stake. That sounded scary.
“Well, why don’t you go find some other kids who aren’t practicing right now?” Mom said.
“OK,” Mindy said.
Mindy left the cultural hall and followed the sound of voices to a nearby classroom. Peeking in the door, she saw several kids she didn’t know.
“They must be from other wards in the stake,” Mindy thought.
She wanted to meet them, but she was too afraid to say hello. Instead, she walked back to the cultural hall and sat down by Mom.
“Didn’t you find the other kids?” Mom asked.
“I found them, but I don’t know any of them,” Mindy said.
“It’s not that hard to meet people,” Mom said. “When I was your age, I was really shy too, but then I decided I didn’t want to be shy anymore. I made a goal to meet one new person every day.”
“I don’t know, Mom. I don’t really think I can not be shy,” Mindy said.
“If you just try, it will get easier,” Mom said. “You can start small with just one person. Look, a girl is sitting over there by herself. Why don’t you go say hello?”
Mindy tried to think of an excuse, but she knew she should take her mom’s suggestion. She said a quick prayer asking Heavenly Father to help her, took a few deep breaths, and walked over to the girl. “Meeting one person does seem a lot easier than approaching a whole group,” she thought.
“Hi,” Mindy said.
“Hi,” the girl replied. “My name is Shalee. What’s yours?”
“My name is Mindy.” There was a bit of silence, and then Mindy thought of a question to ask. “Are you in the play?”
“No,” Shalee said. “But that’s my dad up there practicing,” she said, pointing to the stage.
“My sisters are in the play too,” Mindy said.
Their conversation went on as they learned about each other. Pretty soon practice was over, and it was time to go home.
“Who is your new friend?” Mom asked on the way home.
“Her name is Shalee, and she’s 11 like me,” Mindy said. “She was really nice.”
“And it wasn’t scary?” Mom asked.
“Well, I was scared to talk to her at first, but I’m glad I did,” Mindy said. “Maybe meeting new people isn’t so hard after all.”

On October 5, 2017, a year and two months into my mission was the day I received news from my mission president that my mom had passed on the day before. The pain I felt was beyond explanation, I was tempted to tell my mission president that I wanted to go home. My mission president and wife, being the loving parents they are, asked that I stay with them a few days at the mission home with hopes that I would be comforted.
In the course of my stay, my mission president gave me a priesthood blessing and I was prompted to revisit some of the scriptures my mission president had expounded during one of our zone conferences on the plan of salvation and so I did. I read Alma 42:6 that reminded me that death is inevitable and that “it was appointed unto man to die.” I also read Alma 40:11–12 where it teaches that a righteous soul who crosses the veil will be in a state of rest and peace.
As I read, I felt my pain waning gradually and I continued to read it repeatedly. I was reminded that my mom was a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who had gone through the ordinances of baptism and receiving the Holy Ghost by my hand two years before her passing. That reminder kept me going and I left the mission home the next day to return to proselyting.
As I kept teaching the plan of salvation to my investigators from the Book of Mormon, my joy knew no bounds. Thanks to the Book of Mormon, I have moved on and am almost done with my mission. I am more than grateful for the principles taught in the Book of Mormon indeed, it contains the fullness of the gospel, for I have received a witness of its truthfulness.

Clint Dalley was the first assistant to the president in the priests quorum that year and one of those natural All-American athletes. Scott liked Clint and probably gravitated to him because of Clint’s athletic successes. Clint, however, was busy trying to make those important life decisions and was quite busy with many activities. As a result, the two did not spend a great deal of time together. Like other quorum members, Clint gave Scott a ride occasionally or sometimes they went for a soft drink at the local drive-in.
They came together one springtime in our town of Highland, Utah, because of a basketball tournament. It is traditional for all men and boys in the ward to be formed into basketball teams and participate in the “H.A.C.” tournament. The initials stand for Highland Athletic Commission (no one knows why they named it that), but those who participate think the name “HAC” describes how rough the hacking fouls are.
That year I was selected to be the coach for one team and found that both Clint and Scott had been chosen as team members. During each game, I made sure that everyone on the team played. Because of Clint and some other players my team kept winning during the three nights of play and eventually won the championship. After the last game, Scott’s mother stopped to thank me for allowing Scott to play in the games, “even when the score was close,” she said. She was aware that because of the intensity of play other team members might resent Scott’s participation. He is moderately handicapped and is not very coordinated. But I told her that Scott did just fine and made his contribution. In fact, when he played the pressure on everyone was reduced and basketball became more fun and less competitive. I noted that after the last game Clint left with Scott, and Clint’s dad told me they were going to get an ice cream cone before going home. I learned later that from that moment they spent more time than usual together.

When the somber day arrived that I had to leave the people I had grown to love so much, a man recognized me on the ferry. He approached to thank me for what I had done, when he saw that I held only a coach ticket. He insisted that I switch my ticket for his first-class one for the long, 14-hour ride. He told me that seeing the volunteers’ examples changed him. He wanted to help someone else too, and switching his ticket was the best he could do right now.

“Please,” he begged. “Please.”

Tears filled my eyes as I witnessed once again the ripple effect that genuine service and love can cause.

Rrriiinnnggg! Rriiinnnggg! The recess bell rang. Monroe and her friends put on their coats. They hurried outside to play.
It was winter. It was cold. Monroe put on her fuzzy pink gloves. She was glad she had gloves to keep her hands warm.
Monroe and her friends had fun on the swings and the slippery slide. But Monroe saw that some of her friends weren’t wearing gloves. Their hands were red and cold. She wished she had gloves for their hands too.
After school Monroe had an idea. She asked Mom, “Can I take extra gloves to school tomorrow?”
“Why?” Mom asked.
“Some of my friends didn’t have gloves today,” Monroe said. “They can borrow mine to keep their hands warm.”
“That’s a nice thing to do,” Mom said. They found all the gloves they could. They put them in Monroe’s backpack.
The next day at recess, Monroe shared the gloves with her friends. It was still cold outside, but the gloves kept their hands warm. Monroe was happy to share her gloves. As she played, her hands felt warm. And now, her heart did too.

It started when I was a devout, hardcore Calvinist. Though I’d returned to full activity a couple years before, questions I’d had since childhood lingered in the background of my mind. Over the previous months and years leading to meeting the missionaries, they grew and multiplied after receiving no satisfactory answer from asking or researching them. These endeavours to discover more truth left me with more confusion. They were corrosive to my faith. Its crescendo was when these queries led to a faith crisis. I doubted everything from the most minor of doctrines to the very existence of God.
One night, I earnestly and desperately prayed to know who He is, for help. By then, I was closer to agnosticism than Christianity. Mere days later, I met the missionaries when somebody I used to vaguely know from school (and hadn’t spoken to in over three years) added me to a group chat with Elders McIntosh and Beam. God sent me who I needed when I needed them.
The two things I remember from the conversation played a huge role in my conversion. When I joined a video call (late) Elder Beam was reading Moroni’s promise (see Moroni 10:3–5). His companion, Elder McIntosh, and he carried a sweet and sacred Spirit which impacted me. I didn’t recognise it at the time (two months would pass before I’d learn to recognise it) but it drew me to them. I wanted to know them; I wanted to know what they had to say.
From then on, I started meeting with them and learning of the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ, of the Book of Mormon, of the Prophet Joseph Smith. Everything was so foreign to me, but I felt the Spirit every time. I started reading it for myself when (newly transferred in) Elder Baldwin invited me to read the Book of Enos. From there, I couldn’t stop reading. Even though I still didn’t believe it, I couldn’t stop. I knew something was different about the Book of Mormon. I thought about it constantly. It strengthened my faith in a loving God.
Over the next few months, I did a deep dive into researching the Church of Jesus Christ, the positives and negatives. In doing so, in meeting the missionaries and following through on the commitments I made, in praying, in reading the Book of Mormon alongside the Bible, every single question I had was answered fully. The biggest questions such as the nature of God (I was never fully satisfied with descriptions of a triune God) were answered. The smallest questions I had were answered just the same. It was a miracle.
When I was finally blessed with the foundations of a testimony in this great latter-day work, it was not yet the end of my journey to baptism. Why? Because I was aware I would have to sacrifice many friendships and relationships I’d had with people my entire life. I knew there were people who meant a great deal to me who would never want anything to do with me again — and they didn’t. I had spiritual leaders in my life tell me I was turning my back on Jesus Christ and what He’d done for me. More than anything else, that hurt me deeply. I investigated and learned more of the Church because I love my Saviour so much. If I didn’t love and believe the Bible as much as I did, or have the foundations I had, I would never have believed the Book of Mormon.
A few weeks later, I realised something: Jesus Christ walked the walk to Calvary for me, the least I could do is walk the walk to the baptism font, and beyond, even if I had to do so alone, without the friends I’d had for decades. I did so. Every sacrifice I made to join the Church of my Lord Jesus Christ was far outweighed by the bounteous and sacred blessings He gave me.
It was a long journey which took very close to 10 months. But the walk through the valley took me to the truth, to the temple, to my beautiful wife, and closer to my Saviour, Jesus Christ.
I know this is His Church. I know He is the Saviour and Redeemer of mankind. I know God is our loving Heavenly Father. I know we can come closer to them by reading the scriptures. I know we can be blessed and come closer to them by living the covenants we make in the font and in the holy temple. This is the true Church of Jesus Christ.

Nearly a year ago, in Pasadena, California, Sister Janice Burgoyne was dying of cancer. She had shared generously of herself and was dearly loved. Her Relief Society sisters were bringing her meals, cleaning her house, caring for her two young sons, helping her husband plan a funeral. It was hard for Janice to receive so much help, knowing that her sisters would find that piece of old toast behind the couch. She worried her sisters would know more than her heart. But because her sisters knew her heart, it didn’t matter. They provided car pools, tutored homework, played her piano, changed bedding. And they did it day after day after day, without complaint, with boundless charity. Such sharing forever changed those sisters. Before she died, Janice turned to a Relief Society sister and asked with gratitude and awe, “How does anyone die without Relief Society?”

When my Great-Grandma Edwards died, my sister, Mia, and I were sad. Even though my parents told us we would see our great-grandma again someday and be a family forever, we were worried.
My dad told us that we could pray to have our questions about Grandma Edwards answered at general conference. I prayed to know if Grandma Edwards was happy. Mia prayed to know if Grandma Edwards was with her husband and daughter, who had already died.
During the Sunday morning session of conference, we listened, and we heard the prophet answer our questions! President Monson said that when people die, it’s as if they go into a room filled with all the family members they love who died before them. So Mia knew that Grandma Edwards was with her husband and daughter. Then President Monson read a part from the Book of Mormon that says the spirits of the righteous go to a state of happiness (see Alma 40:11–12).* Grandma Edwards had always tried to choose the right, so I knew she was happy.
Mia and I were so happy to know that the prophet speaks for God and that God answers our prayers. We aren’t worried about Grandma Edwards anymore. We know that if we follow her example of choosing the right, someday we will see her again.