Gospel Story Finder

I would be remiss if I did not speak of a branch president and a bishop of my youth. I became a deacon at the age of 12 in a little branch in the eastern part of the United States. The branch was so tiny that my older brother and I were its only Aaronic Priesthood holders until my father, who was the branch president, invited a middle-aged man to join the Church.

The new convert received the Aaronic Priesthood and, with it, a call to watch over the Aaronic Priesthood. I still remember as if it were yesterday. I can recall the beautiful fall leaves as that new convert accompanied my brother and me to do something for a widow. I don’t remember what the project was, but I do remember feeling that the priesthood power joined in doing what I later learned the Lord had said we must all do to have our sins forgiven and so be prepared to see Him.

As I look back now, I feel gratitude for a branch president who called a new convert to help the Lord prepare two boys who would in turn someday be bishops, charged to care for the poor and the needy and also to preside over the preparatory priesthood.

As the Ellsworth Company started its third month of travel, food supplies began to dwindle. During this part of the journey, the pioneers were blessed to come across many buffalo on the Plains. The pioneers replenished their food supplies by shooting a few buffalo, cooking and eating the fresh meat, and then drying some meat for the days ahead. Buffalo chips were used, in the absence of wood, to build fires for warmth and for cooking. The pioneers spent many hours repairing the handcarts that often carried up to 500 pounds of goods over hard roads, through numerous streams and rivers, and up sandy bluffs from Florence, Nebraska, to the Salt Lake Valley. Meanwhile, the Saints already in the valley were organizing to help the approaching companies. Food was sent in wagons to Deer Creek to help the pioneers on the last leg of their journey.
1
Crossed Prairie Creek twice—second time brethren had to carry handcarts across (16 miles)
2
Forded two creeks; saw many buffalo; camped at Wood River (18 miles)
3
Sunday—rested and mended handcarts; ate shellfish from river (no miles)
4
Roads good; camped near Platte River (18 miles)
5
Roads pretty good; wood plentiful; water merely sufficient (16 miles)
6
Saw thousands of buffalo—killed four, which furnished camp with good supply of meat (12 miles)
7
No water found all day; at night dug for water, which was sufficient but very thick (25 miles)
8
Traveled without finding water; Brother Sanders somehow left behind; men unsuccessfully searched for him (13 miles)
9
Found Brother Sanders five miles ahead of camp; brought him to camp on a mule (13 miles)
10
Sunday—many ill; camped in excellent place near cold spring (14 miles)
11
Four men sent to shoot two buffalo; one milk cow died (17 miles)
12
Dried buffalo meat and repaired handcarts (no miles)
13
Roads difficult to travel, owing to rainfall last night (12 miles)
14
Travel hard; one handcart broke down (18 miles)
15
Forded five creeks; camped by Rattlesnake Creek, 352 miles from Florence (14 miles)
16
Camped on east bank of Wolf Creek; buffalo chips not plentiful; good grazing for cattle (17 miles)
17
Sunday—Brother Peter Stalley died; camped opposite Ash Hollow (12 miles)
18
Forded Hustle Creek; camped on banks of Platte River (19 miles)
19
Plenty of buffalo chips to burn; camped opposite Ancient Bluff Ruins (20 miles)
20
Started out at 7:30 A.M.; crossed sandy bluffs; camped by Platte River (20 miles)
21
Tolerably good road; camped two miles past Chimney Rock (16 miles)
22
Delayed in travels for three hours by thunderstorm; camped on Platte River half a mile from Spring Creek (21 miles)
23
Captain Ellsworth shot a buffalo, which was very thankfully received (16 miles)
24
Sunday—at evening meeting, Brother Ellsworth admonished those who had robbed handcarts or wagons to repent (no miles)
25
Saw many Indians; plenty of wood—quite a treat after burning buffalo chips (19 miles)
26
Forded North Fork of Platte River; camped three miles from Fort Laramie (17 miles)
27
Bacon and meal porridge for supper—best supper for many weeks (21 miles)
28
Camped near Horseshoe Creek, 4:30 P.M.; washed clothes and mended handcarts (15 miles)
29
Forded Platte River and camped where wood was plentiful and feed fair (25 miles)
30
Met two Californians, who said wagons from Salt Lake were waiting to meets Ellsworth Company at Deer Creek (19 miles)
31
Sunday—Brother Stoddard died of consumption; at Deer Creek met wagons with provisions for last part of journey (24 miles)

Let me tell you about the saints of the Punta Arenas Chile Stake. Punta Arenas is located on the Straits of Magellan near the very southern tip of South America. It is 2,200 km from the Santiago Chile Temple. That's like living in Los Angeles and traveling to the temple in Kansas City, Missouri. In spite of the distance, every summer the stake sends at least one, and sometimes two, buses to the temple. It takes them three days to get to Santiago. They cross the Argentina/Chile border twice. They spend three days in the temple and make the three day trip back. They are grateful the temple is not further away.

I’m a missionary serving in the Costa Rica San Jose Mission. I’ve enjoyed the New Era since I was 13 years old. Each issue has had articles that have helped me. The article by Vicki Leavitt Driggs in the November 1986 issue, entitled “The Grudge” seemed to be meant especially for me. It helped me tremendously with my own particular problem.
Normally, I get along well with the people I meet, and as a missionary, of course, I meet and work with a lot of different people. But I’ve had to work with a certain individual with whom it has been very difficult for me to get along. I was really feeling awful inside. I didn’t want to have bad feelings about anyone, especially one with whom I had to be very closely associated.
A couple of days ago this person did something that really hurt me. I felt quite angry and was even more “unkindly disposed” toward her than I had previously been.
When I returned to my apartment, I opened the November issue of the New Era I had just received from my parents. I started to read “The Grudge.” After reading it I realized that I felt exactly like the girl in the story. I knew I had to talk to this person whom I was allowing to make me have these negative feelings. I had to clear the air.
That’s exactly what I did. Now things are better between us than ever before. Thank you so much for this story.
Sister Cami OscarsonCosta Rica San Jose Mission

Eighteen months after the passing of our son, we received a phone call from LDS Family Services saying that a young woman had chosen to place her baby with us. Knowing that we could not have more biological children, we could not have been more excited.
When our little girl was six months old, we finalized her adoption and took her to the temple to be sealed to us. Four years after our little girl became part of our family, another young woman chose us to be the parents of a sweet little boy. Again we had the blessing of taking a six-month-old to the temple. I will never forget how I felt when I saw my children, all in white, in the temple with my husband and me to be sealed to us for eternity.

Emo’onahe (eh-moh-oh-nah) decided to share her talent of hoop dancing, which is part of her Native American culture. “One of my friends who went to FSY before me told me that they had this talent show and that I should perform,” she says.

“I was a little bit nervous, so I tried not to focus on the crowd.” But it was kind of hard not to! “I could hear everyone going crazy,” she says. “They were so loud I could barely hear the music, so I was barely able to keep on beat!”

Emo’onahe has worked hard to get good at hoop dancing. She says, “There was definitely a learning curve.” But the more she practiced, the more she learned about herself.

Hoop dancing is a form of personal storytelling. “You start off with one hoop representing your beginning, and then you continue adding hoops to show more things about your life. In my performance, you could see a butterfly, an eagle, and a cowboy,” Emo’onahe says. “When I’m telling my story, I feel like I’m telling the story of those I’ve learned from and experiences I’ve had.”

Emo’onahe is from the Cheyenne and Arapahoe tribes of Oklahoma, and is also Fort Peck Sioux and Assiniboine. She says, “I used to feel so different from everyone else,” and sometimes “that made me uncomfortable.” But hoop dancing embraces individuality. Each dancer creates their own choreography, and “that’s what makes it so unique and personal to you,” she says.

Emo’onahe feels closer to God as she prays, reads the scriptures, and strives to follow Jesus Christ. She also feels closer to God as she strives to improve in her talents. “When I pick up my hoops and dance, I can feel joy.” She recommends: “Find the things you love and find good people who will help you so you can use your talents to strengthen yourself and others. Serving others can help you strengthen your testimony of Jesus Christ as well.”

Last June, I was on an assignment to South America. We were on a tight 10-day schedule visiting Colombia, Peru, and Ecuador. An enormous earthquake had killed hundreds, injured tens of thousands, damaged and destroyed homes and communities in the Ecuadorian cities of Portoviejo and Manta. I felt prompted to add to our schedule a visit to members living in those cities. With damage to the roads, we weren’t sure we could get there. In fact, we had been told we could not get there, but the prompting would not go away. Consequently, we were blessed and were able to visit both cities.

With such short notice, I expected that only a few local priesthood leaders would attend the hastily organized gatherings. However, we arrived at each stake center to find the chapels filled all the way back to the stage. Some who attended were the stalwarts of the region, the pioneers who had held fast to the Church, encouraging others to join them in worship and to feel the Spirit in their lives. Sitting on the front rows were the members who had lost loved ones and neighbors in the earthquake. I felt prompted to bestow an apostolic blessing upon all who were in attendance, one of my very first given. Though I was standing at the front of that room, it was as if my hands were on each of their heads, and I felt the words of the Lord pouring forth.

It didn’t end there. I felt prompted to speak to them just as Jesus Christ had done when visiting the people in the Americas. “He took their little children … and blessed them, and prayed unto the Father for them.” We were in Ecuador, we were about our Father’s business, and these were His children.

Consider the following: John Lyman Smith the brother of President George Albert Smith related this incident that took place when he was a young boy.

In my early years I used to often eat at the table with Joseph the Prophet. At one time he was called to dinner. I being at play in the room with his son Joseph, he called us to him, and we stood one each side of him. After he had looked over the table he said, 'Lord, we thank thee for this Johnny Cake, and ask Thee to send us something better. Amen.' The corn bread was cut and I received a piece from his hand.

Before the bread was all eaten, a man came to the door and asked if the Prophet Joseph was home. Joseph replied he was, whereupon the visitor said, 'I have brought you some flour and a ham.' Joseph arose and took the gift, and blessed the man in the name of the Lord. Turning to his wife, Emma, he said, 'I knew the Lord would answer my prayer.'[13]

When Mom wasn’t feeling good, she needed us to cooperate even more. Dad always told us how much he appreciated our help, and we knew that Mom did too. She liked to rest near us when we practiced our music lessons and did our homework. “Now, here’s a little testimony for you. I have always wanted to hear you play that song so well.” “Here’s a little testimony for you. I can still remember how to do those math problems, so I can help you with your homework!”

One day Dad woke us up very early. Mom had had a bad night, and she was very, very ill. She wanted to talk to us because she knew that it was almost time for her to go back to live with Heavenly Father.
When we went into her bedroom, she reached out and touched each of us and told us how much she loved us. “Now, here’s a little testimony for you,” she said. “Even though I’ll be leaving you very soon, it’s part of Heavenly Father’s plan.”

We all wept. It didn’t seem as if there could ever be enough time to tell Mom how much we loved her.
“Sweetheart,” she said to Dad, “would you bring me the special book I have been keeping, please?”
Dad handed her a pretty journal.
“This journal is filled with lots of little things for you to remember when I’m not here to talk to you anymore. It’s full of little testimonies for you. I want you to remember how much I love the Savior. I want you to love Him that much, too, so that we can always be together.”
We opened the beautiful book. The pages were filled with memories, in Mom’s handwriting, of the joy of the days gone by. We read things like, “I saw some tiny kittens at Aunt Sis’s house. They knew their mother immediately, without even being able to see. We can learn to know the Savior like that, if we have faith.” “The garden seeds are sprouting. After the long, cold winter, it’s good to see them coming up again. It reminds me of the Resurrection, and the promise of new life.”
We closed the book before we had time to look at all the pages. Mom was closing her eyes, but she had a smile on her face. “Whenever you feel lonely for me, I want you to read this book.” She opened her eyes. “I want you to remember that the Savior loves you very much. When you pray, you will feel safe and calm and you will know that I love you still.”
It wasn’t long before Mom left us. We all felt sad and lonely. Dad gathered us together, and we had family prayer. “Now, here’s a little testimony for you,” he said. “This family has so much love that we know that it will go on forever. We will miss Mom, but we know that the Savior makes it possible for us to be together again.”
Mom has been gone for quite a while now. We still miss her, and we think of her a lot. When we feel lonely, we get out the special book and read the little testimonies she left for us. I can just “hear” her saying something about an answer to prayers, or what wonderful blessings we receive. I’m glad we have those special memories.
Dad got each of us a journal so that we can write down all our own little testimonies. I have written a lot about the times I remember with Mom, but I am writing new little testimonies too.
And you know what? Mom’s journal of little testimonies is really one great big, strong testimony about the plan of salvation, about the Savior’s love for us.

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

When missionaries returned to Iceland in 1975, Sveinbjörg Gudmundsdóttir was one of the first Icelanders to investigate the Church. She spoke fluent English, and soon after her baptism in 1976, she began her 20-year career as a translator for the Church. “My first assignment was to translate the Book of Mormon,” she recalls. “I knew I wasn’t qualified—I had never really translated anything but pamphlets for the missionaries.” She spent many hours on her knees in humble prayer. “I knew I could not do it without the help of the Lord,” she says. The task was overwhelming, but Sister Sveinbjörg felt the guidance of the Holy Ghost. The Icelandic Book of Mormon was published in June 1981.

Waiting for the realization of that dream was an exercise in faith. In 1981, Sister Sveinbjörg had been assigned to go to Salt Lake City to translate the temple ceremony; However, that translation was never recorded. A decade passed before she made that long journey once again—this time to update the translation and prepare it for recording.

During those 10 years of hoping and waiting, the Church in Iceland was growing. Testimonies were being nurtured, and new members were continually adding their strength. Gudmundur Sigurdsson and his wife, Valgerdur Knutsdóttir, were baptized in 1982. He was called to be the Reykjavík Branch president in 1983, and he became the first Icelandic district president in 1986.

Gummi (as he likes to be called) remembers the struggles they faced as the Church was gaining a foothold in Iceland. “We felt so isolated because we had no background for the Church in Iceland—we had no one to ask how things should be done. Sometimes people would offer to help me, but the problem was, I didn’t know what to ask for! Now we have built a base of leadership, and they are ready to be of assistance as new leaders are called.”

One of those more recently called leaders is Bárdur Á. Gunnarsson, current president of the Reykjavík Branch. He, too, first heard of the Church in 1982, but that was a time in his life when his thoughts were far from religion. Even though his lifestyle was not so different from most other young men in his country, he had many obstacles to overcome. “I tried several times to quit smoking and drinking, but I didn’t have the strength to do it,” Bárdur recalls. He had a family, but it was one that began without the blessing of a marriage ceremony. Finally, four years after the elders first knocked on his door, his desire to unite his family and to seek forgiveness led him to be married to Ólöf Bjarnadóttir, the mother of his three daughters. Ólöf was not ready to be baptized at that time, but she did give her consent for him to take their three little girls to church every Sunday. “My patriarchal blessing told me I would go to the temple with my wife and children, and I worked very hard to make this happen,” said Bárdur.

Bárdur’s dream of uniting his family began to come true in 1994 when word was received that the Icelandic temple ceremony was scheduled to be recorded in the Salt Lake Temple. In May of that year, Ólöf accompanied him to Salt Lake City, along with the small group who had been called to make the recording. While there, surrounded by their friends, Bárdur baptized his wife in the baptistry of the Salt Lake Tabernacle. They were sealed in the London Temple one year later.

After five days, the recording project was completed. Before the group who did the recording left the temple, they were allowed to view a small portion of the finished product. “Seeing just a part of the film and hearing those first few words in our own language touched me deep in my heart—it was something I will never forget,” said Gummi. “That increased our fervent desire to share this wonderful experience with all our brothers and sisters at home.”

It was now possible to think about organizing a trip to the temple for the members of the Reykjavík Branch. There was much preparing to be done—in addition to becoming worthy for temple recommends, branch members had to do genealogical research to find family names, and they had to save money for the trip. When whole families were planning to go, this became a sizable amount!

“There was a wonderful excitement, an extra amount of love and care shown among the members as they prepared for this experience,” recalls district president Ólafur Einarsson. “It brought a feeling of unity to the branch that we had not felt before.”

The necessary preparations were completed, and 38 members of the Reykjavík Branch—adults and children—journeyed to the London Temple in June 1995. For a week, they devoted themselves to the work of the Lord. “It was an unforgettable experience to see the joy on the faces of our group as the Spirit touched our hearts,” recalls one branch member. “The love and kindness we felt toward one another continued to grow as we shared the joy of our temple experiences.” They returned to their homes and families with strengthened testimonies and a renewed love of the gospel.

As the Church becomes stronger, the saga of the Saints in Iceland continues. In June 1996—still filled with memories of their experiences the previous year—some of the members of the Reykjavík Branch made a second trip to the London Temple. There, they once again were blessed to participate in holy ordinances as they renewed their covenants with the Lord—in the language of their Viking ancestors.

Many years ago I was planning to spend Christmas Eve with my family, and I was apprehensive about it. I had recently joined the Church, and my family was critical of my new religion. The situation worsened when I gave my mother a ride to my grandmother’s house. My mother had been drinking heavily, and I felt tempted to snap at her. The excitement I usually felt during the holiday season was replaced with despair. Silently, I prayed for help.
I tuned the car radio to the popular music station I usually listened to, hoping that would lift my spirits. But then I felt impressed to turn off the radio and sing Christmas hymns. I did so, and my mother—though surprised—seemed calmer. She even joined in singing some of the carols.
My mood changed immediately, and I was reminded of the true meaning of Christmas. When I thought of how the Savior unselfishly gave His life for us, my own problems seemed small and manageable. I realized that I had many blessings in my life and many reasons to rejoice. I felt assured that the Holy Ghost was with me, and I was confident that I could respond peacefully to any criticism I received about the Church.
Singing didn’t take away my problems, but it enabled me to approach my troubles with a positive attitude—and that made all the difference.
Kimberley Hirschi, California, USA

We shouldn’t try to force spiritual things.71 If we try to, we may rely on emotions that mimic spiritual promptings but are not. These emotions may include sentimentality, awe, empathy, excitement—or raging hormones.

Similarly, it is an advanced spiritual skill to know that revelation has not been received and to be prompted not to act. I know a Relief Society president, Sister Jones,72 whose first counselor moved out of the ward and needed to be released. Sister Jones felt inspired to recommend that her second counselor be called as her first counselor but didn’t feel prompted to recommend a new second counselor. The bishop encouraged her to consider several qualified sisters. She gave prayerful consideration, but affirmative confirmation didn’t come, and she knew it. So she waited, and she knew that she should wait.

Two weeks later, a relatively new convert, Sister Brown,73 moved into the ward. Sister Jones now felt a prompting to recommend that Sister Brown be interviewed by the bishop and, if he felt a spiritual confirmation, that she be called as the second counselor.

Sister Brown was called and served for several years as a counselor to Sister Jones—not only helping significantly but learning from Sister Jones and the experienced first counselor. Upon Sister Jones’s release, Sister Brown was called to be the new ward Relief Society president. I am grateful that Sister Jones did not force a conclusion prematurely and instead had become sufficiently spiritually mature to know that revelation hadn’t been received and that she had been prompted to wait on the Lord.

Not long ago my newly married baby sister, Deborah, and her husband moved from Provo and began their small business in Idaho. They were living in a new mobile home with a new infant daughter. They were as happy as an eager young family of three could be. After a brief time near his parent’s home, my young brother-in-law moved his wife and daughter and their new mobile home to what were literally greener pastures. He was a keeper of bees, and the clover looked tastier on the other side of the fence. The little family relocated some miles away, where the land was to flow, if not with milk, then at least with honey. They spent a long day and much of a night moving their good-sized mobile home onto their new property.

They were eager with anticipation and bursting with pride to be on their own. All that they owned was safely inside that trailer, stacked floor to ceiling with wedding gifts and baby blankets and years of childhood treasures. Early the next morning they arose to savor this new Canaan. They were certain they had crossed over Jordan.

With a bit of breakfast, my young brother-in-law went out into the fields to map out locations for hives and make plans for production. My sister, happy and full of hope, played with her daughter and then started to wash out some things soiled from the move.

First there was a little smoke, then a lot of smoke, and then instantly a flash. During the move, the gas jets to the water heater had been disturbed, and fire now had the trailer engulfed in flames. This little home, for which they had scrimped and saved and borrowed and prayed, was now a tinder box. Deborah grabbed her 10-month-old daughter and stumbled to a safe distance. A neighbor saw the blaze and called the small volunteer fire department. But it was too little, too late, and too lonely. Everything was gone that these two faithful and genuinely good young people had based their dreams upon: baby toys, photographs, remembrance records, quilts from a loving grandmother, mission mementos, beds, books, clothing, and tools. Everything was gone. And there stood this 24-year-old girl, my sister, holding her child and sobbing.

Her husband was busy at work with no way of knowing of this tragedy. Deborah was 400 miles from any member of her family and did not know one living soul in this new rural community where just a dozen hours earlier they had arrived with such hopes and dreams. Their future, for this little family of three, was disintegrating before her very eyes. First smoke, then flame, and now ashes.

So much, we might say, modest as they are, for the youthful dreams of the newly married—for those who are full of faith, constant in prayer, and obedient to every principle. This new wife and mother clutched her baby and wept out of loneliness, I suppose, as much as out of fear.

What would they do now? she thought. How would they pay the loan on a new trailer that was now gone? Where would they sleep? How would they eat? Who could help?

She stood there, overwhelmed at the lightning stroke of misfortune that had consumed their dreams in an instant. At that very moment, a young man stood at her side unnoticed. Neighbors were arriving, and the valiant efforts of firefighters held everyone’s attention—everyone’s but this young man’s. He seemed oblivious to the whole matter. He appeared to be 25 or so, not much older than she or her own husband.

As the others scurried by with buckets and pails and hoses and shovels, he gently reached out and took her arm. “Hello,” he said. “My name is Barry Larsen, and I understand you’ve just moved into our ward. I’m your bishop, and I want you to know that everything is going to be just fine.”

Well, things have been better than fine. After they had spent two or three nights in the home of the Relief Society president, a home was located for rent. A wise young husband had purchased insurance very carefully, and a bank responded with a generous offer for them to build a new home rather than buy another mobile version. Old dreams were forgotten in the rush of new ones, and now, two years later, they are full of hope and happiness, and their land is indeed flowing with honey.

When I was about 11 years old, I was exposed to pornography. That one instance developed into a greater problem that became the defining struggle of my teenage years. By the time I was in high school, I had turned away from pornography and toward Jesus Christ’s Atonement. Although I experienced a miracle in having the filth erased from my mind, I still felt overwhelming guilt in my heart.
Around this time, my grandma lent me my great-great grandmother Thea’s handwritten autobiography. Within days I felt deeply connected with Thea Martina Waagen (1883–1967). Thea’s father tragically died just a few months before her birth, so she was raised by her widowed Norwegian immigrant mother. Growing up was difficult, but she found joy in picking wild strawberries and playing the organ at her local Lutheran church. Thea’s mother remarried, and with her stepfather’s help, she attended college. Later in life, Thea and her family converted to the Church and moved to Utah, USA. Things weren’t easy for Thea. She and her husband divorced. She experienced great heartache and severe depression, yet she remained true to her testimony.
As I learned about Thea and her choice to persevere through adversity, I was overwhelmed with an intense love that reassured me of my worth and helped me overcome my paralyzing guilt. I realized that if she could do hard things, I could too.
I went on LDS.org and requested Thea’s patriarchal blessing. I was further touched when I read, “The seed of thy womb shall rise up and call thee blessed among the women in Zion.” I realized that my profound respect for her was a fulfilment of that simple sentence. Thea’s love helped heal my heart of guilt and turn my heart to my ancestors. This was my first witness of Elder David A. Bednar’s promise that by participating in family history work, I would “be protected against the intensifying influences of the adversary” (“The Hearts of the Children Shall Turn,” Liahona, Nov. 2011, 27).

Recently a professor on this campus told me about two different students who came to him with confessions of cheating. Each had lied about completing reading assignments in order to receive a higher grade. As the days passed, both realized that they had cheated themselves. This incident plagued the conscience of one student, and she decided she must set things straight. The other was preparing for a mission and could not feel good about teaching others to keep the commandments and be honest. And so they sought for forgiveness, and inner peace was restored.

Perhaps an example would be helpful. Procrastination is truly a thief of time—especially when it comes to downright hard work. I speak of the need to study diligently as you prepare for the tests of school and, indeed, the tests of life.
I know of a university student who was so busy with the joys of student life that preparation for an exam was postponed. The night before, she realized the hour was late and the preparation was not done. She rationalized, “Now what is more important—my health, which requires that I must sleep, or the drudgery of study?” Well, you can probably guess the outcome. Sleep won, study failed, and the test was a personal disaster. Work we must.

I’ll never forget a lesson I had with a young woman on my mission.
She kept asking for physical or tangible evidence that the Book of Mormon was true. And I sat there, unsure of how to respond to her questions and accusations. I was a young, bright-eyed missionary, and all I knew was that the Book of Mormon was true. I felt discouraged because I didn’t know all the answers to her questions. But I realized, it wouldn’t have mattered if I had physical evidence to prove the Book of Mormon was true. Proof wouldn’t give her faith.

The young woman I taught on my mission would only believe the Church was true if my companion and I could disprove all her accusations. But the only thing I could ever prove to her was the reality of finding answers through personal revelation. 6

I ended our lesson with that young woman on my mission by testifying boldly of the Book of Mormon. I told her the only way she could truly find answers to all her questions was to ask Heavenly Father if the Book of Mormon was true. Until she understood the basics of the gospel of Jesus Christ, she could put her other questions on the shelf and revisit them later with greater understanding and faith. But honestly, doesn’t that apply to all of us? We can actually increase our faith by acting in faith.

This story happened in Samoa.
Dark, gloomy clouds hung in the sky. Alex glared up at them.
BOOM!
More thunder rumbled. Big, heavy raindrops crashed down everywhere.
Alex shook his head. This wasn’t good. Not good at all. Sometimes, in Samoa, it could rain for days without stopping. But he wanted his grandpa’s birthday to be perfect!
Alex went to his room and knelt by his bed.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” he said. “Please make the rain go away in time for Papa’s birthday party tomorrow. We already sent out the invitations. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
When Alex stood up, he saw Mom and Dad standing in his doorway. They were smiling.
“I hope you don’t mind that we heard your prayer,” Mom said.
Alex smiled. “That’s OK. I just want tomorrow to be special for Papa. It won’t be the same if we need to stay inside. We wouldn’t have room to dance!”
Dad squeezed Alex’s shoulder. “No matter what the weather is like, Papa will know how much you love him.”
The next morning, Mom and Dad asked Alex to say the family prayer. It was still raining hard. And it still didn’t look like it would stop.
“Please bless the rain to go away in time for the party,” he said. “And please bless us all to have a good time. Especially Papa!”
Alex watched the sky all morning. For a long time, nothing changed. But then something amazing happened.
“Look!” Alex shouted. “A patch of blue sky!” His family ran out to the yard. The clouds were starting to clear up.
In a few hours, all the clouds were gone! Even the puddles on the ground had dried up. Alex hurried to decorate the yard. Papa and the other guests would be here soon.
When Papa got there, he was surprised. He looked at the lights, the colorful streamers, and all the guests. “Everything looks beautiful,” he said. “Thank you so much!”
The party was just as fun as Alex had hoped. They danced to Papa’s favorite songs. The food was tasty—especially the sweet coconut bread. Alex even got to sing with Papa.
The best part, though, was when it was time for the Siva Taualuga. This dance was always performed by the most important person of the day. And, of course, that was Papa!
Papa got up to dance, but then he looked at Alex. “Come join me, Alex!” Papa called. Alex jumped up and danced next to Papa. Soon all the others were dancing too.
Papa leaned down to hug Alex. “You made me feel very special today,” Papa said. “This was the perfect birthday party.”
After the party ended, Alex looked up at the sky. The thick black clouds were back. Rain started pounding down on them again. But this time, Alex didn’t mind. He knew that Heavenly Father had helped the weather stay nice long enough for Papa’s party.
“Thank Thee for the nice weather,” Alex prayed. “And thank Thee for such a wonderful Papa.”

A girl in my class at school was saying the Lord’s name in vain. I didn’t like it. When we went to recess I wanted to ask her to stop saying it, but I was very nervous. I finally got up my courage and said, “Will you please stop saying that word?”
She said, “I can say it if I want to,” and she said it again in my face. I asked her again to please not say it in front of me, and she said, “OK.” Since then I haven’t heard her say it.