Gospel Story Finder

We believe in you because we know you can be honest. A television channel ran the story of a 10-year-old boy named Josh Bowers from West Jordan, Utah. He found a wallet that had $530 in it. Josh didn’t hesitate. He picked it up and took it to his mother. The wallet belonged to a mother of four, and the $530 was rent money she couldn’t live without.

Josh really wanted a new bike. But he knew the money was not his. The relieved young mother gave Josh $40 for returning the wallet. Josh planned to use some of the money to get his old bike tire fixed. But a viewer, on hearing the story, had Josh pick out a brand-new bike “to reward him for being an honest guy.”1

One of my favorite comic strips involved Lucy. As I remember it, Charlie Brown’s baseball team was in an important game—Lucy was playing right field, and a high fly ball was hit to her. The bases were loaded, and it was the last of the ninth inning. If Lucy caught the ball, her team would win. If Lucy dropped the ball, the other team would win.
As could happen only in a comic strip, the entire team surrounded Lucy as the ball came down. Lucy was thinking, “If I catch the ball, I will be the hero; if I don’t, I will be the goat.”
The ball came down, and as her teammates eagerly looked on, Lucy dropped the ball. Charlie Brown threw his glove to the ground in disgust. Lucy then looked at her teammates, put her hands on her hips, and said, “How do you expect me to catch the ball when I am worried about our country’s foreign policy?”
This was one of many fly balls Lucy dropped through the years, and she had a new excuse each time.2 While always humorous, Lucy’s excuses were rationalizations; they were untrue reasons for her failure to catch the ball.

Several years ago, I was invited to give an important lecture at a medical school in New York City. The night before the lecture, Sister Nelson and I were invited to dinner at the home of our host professor. There he proudly introduced us to an honor medical student—his beautiful daughter.

Some weeks later, that professor telephoned me in an obvious state of grief. I asked, “What is the matter?”

“Remember our daughter whom you met at our home?”

“Of course,” I replied. “I’ll never forget such a stunning young lady.”

Then her father sobbed and said, “Last night she was killed in an automobile accident!” Trying to gain composure, he continued: “She asked permission to go to a dance with a certain young man. I didn’t have a good feeling about it. I told her so and asked her not to go. She asked, ‘Why?’ I simply told her that I was uneasy. She had always been an obedient daughter, but she said that if I could not give her a good reason to decline, she wanted to go. And so she did. At the dance, alcoholic beverages were served. Her escort drank a bit—we don’t know how much. While returning home, he was driving too fast, missed a turn, and careened through a guardrail into a reservoir below. They were both submerged and taken to their death.”

As I shared my feeling of sadness, he concluded: “My grief is made worse because I had the distinct feeling that trouble lay ahead. Why couldn’t I have been more persuasive?”

Another evidence of faith took place when I first visited the St. Thomas Branch of the mission, situated about 120 miles from Toronto. My wife and I had been invited to attend the branch sacrament meeting and to speak to the members there. As we drove along a fashionable street, we saw many church buildings and wondered which one was ours. None was. We located the address which had been provided and discovered it to be a decrepit lodge hall. Our branch met in the basement of the lodge hall and was composed of perhaps twenty-five members, twelve of whom were in attendance. The same individuals conducted the meeting, blessed and passed the sacrament, offered the prayers, and sang the songs.

At the conclusion of the services, the branch president, Irving Wilson, asked if he could meet with me. At this meeting, he handed to me a copy of the Improvement Era, forerunner of today’s Ensign. Pointing to a picture of one of our new chapels in Australia, President Wilson declared, “This is the building we need here in St. Thomas.”

I smiled and responded, “When we have enough members here to justify and to pay for such a building, I am sure we will have one.” At that time, the local members were required to raise 30 percent of the cost of the site and the building, in addition to the payment of tithing and other offerings.

He countered, “Our children are growing to maturity. We need that building, and we need it now!”

I provided encouragement for them to grow in numbers by their personal efforts to fellowship and teach. The outcome is a classic example of faith, coupled with effort and crowned with testimony.

President Wilson requested six additional missionaries to be assigned to St. Thomas. When this was accomplished, he called the missionaries to a meeting in the back room of his small jewelry store, where they knelt in prayer. He then asked one elder to hand to him the yellow-page telephone directory, which was on a nearby table. President Wilson took the book in hand and observed, “If we are ever to have our dream building in St. Thomas, we will need a Latter-day Saint to design it. Since we do not have a member who is an architect, we will simply have to convert one.” With his finger moving down the column of listed architects, he paused at one name and said, “This is the one we will invite to my home to hear the message of the Restoration.”

President Wilson followed the same procedure with regard to plumbers, electricians, and craftsmen of every description. Nor did he neglect other professions, feeling a desire for a well-balanced branch. The individuals were invited to his home to meet the missionaries, the truth was taught, testimonies were borne and conversion resulted. Those newly baptized then repeated the procedure themselves, inviting others to listen, week after week and month after month.

The St. Thomas Branch experienced marvelous growth. Within two and one-half years, a site was obtained, a beautiful building was constructed, and an inspired dream became a living reality. That branch is now a thriving ward in a stake of Zion.

When I reflect on the town of St. Thomas, I dwell not on the ward’s hundreds of members and many dozens of families; rather, in memory I return to that sparse sacrament meeting in the lodge-hall basement and the Lord’s promise, “Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them” (Matt. 18:20).

Patch Crowe, 22, says he was born “with music inside.” As a toddler, he would wander around the house babbling songs before he could even talk. As a teen, he was part of a Nashville, Tennessee, USA, boy band, Beyond 5. The group disbanded in 2014 when members started preparing to serve full-time missions.
Recently returned from serving in the Scotland/Ireland Mission, Patch has released his first single, married his sweetheart, and is developing musical projects to inspire every listener.
“I believe Heavenly Father allows us to experience music to enhance our lives. Music makes you feel alive.”

During one of my political campaigns, I had the opportunity to travel to Poland. While there, I met a man named Lech Walesa. It was a name well known to me. His country had been invaded by Russia in the early days of the Second World War. To quell any possible uprising by the Polish people, the Russian invaders rounded up 22,000 judges, teachers, political leaders, police and journalists, then took them into a forest and murdered them. It is known as the Karyn massacre.

For nearly 40 years, the Russian Soviets brutalized and oppressed the Polish people.

And then one man, Lech Walesa, stood up to them. He silently gathered workers at a steel factory in Gadansk and led them in a strike against the Soviet government. He organized the first independent labor union ever in a Communist country and demanded human rights for the people of Poland. It is hard for me to conceive of the courage it would take to confront a dictatorship that had previously slaughtered 22,000 Polish leaders.

Through his courage, he overthrew Soviet Union power and helped replace it with freedom and free agency. This he did without resorting to violence. His example spread throughout the Soviet Union and led to the freedom of many millions of people.

I met with him in his small office. He didn't look or sound much different than you or me.

But the courage of his conviction was of an entirely different dimension. Whenever I face a test of my principles, I often think of Lech Walesa.

I remember interviewing a discouraged missionary. He was having trouble with a language which was not his own. He had lost the spirit of his work and wanted to go home. He was one of 180 missionaries in that mission.
I told him that if he were to go home he would break faith with his 179 companions. Every one of them was his friend. Every one of them would pray for him, fast for him, and do almost anything else to help him. They would work with him. They would teach him. They would get on their knees with him. They would help him to learn the language and be successful because they loved him.
I am happy to report that he accepted my assurance that all of the other missionaries were his friends. They rallied around him, not to embarrass him, but to strengthen him. The terrible feeling of loneliness left him. He came to realize that he was part of a winning team. He became successful, a leader, and he has been a leader ever since.

As a member of the high council of the Piura Perú Central Stake, I was asked to speak about charity, the pure love of Christ, in the sacrament meetings I visited. As I spoke, I mentioned the account in the New Testament of a rich man asking Jesus, “Good Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” I emphasized this part of the Lord’s answer: “Yet lackest thou one thing: sell all that thou hast, and distribute unto the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come, follow me” (Luke 18:18, 22).
I was also impressed by Jesus’ promise that He will reward those who give to the poor, treating acts of charity as if they had given directly to Him: “For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in” (Matt. 25:35).
One day several months after giving these talks, I was hungry and went to a food stand where one of our members worked. I ordered seviche, a typical Peruvian dish consisting of fish prepared with lemon. After I sat down to eat, I became aware that someone was standing behind me. I turned around and saw an old man, dressed in an old but clean suit and wearing a wool hat. He had a white beard and used a cane.
He said nothing, and I went on eating. But then, suddenly, a thought came into my mind: What blessing can you expect if you don’t apply what you teach? Remembering my sacrament meeting talks, I looked at the old man again. “Would you like a dish of seviche?”
He said nothing, only continued to stare at me. I was sure I had never seen him before, and I went back to eating.
A few seconds later he spoke, “Could you possibly give me some money for lunch?”
“A lot of people might use the money to buy liquor,” I replied. “I will pay for something to eat.”
After a moment’s pause, he said, “That would be fine.” So I ordered a plate for him.
The old man sat down at another table and was served. When I had finished my own food, I paid my bill and his. I wondered if I should say good-bye to him, but he was enjoying his seviche so much he didn’t even look at me. So I started on my way home.
I had not finished taking the first step when I felt a clear and penetrating impression of heaven’s gratitude for my actions. So strong was the impression that my eyes clouded up with tears of joy. I thought of the words, “For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in.”
When I got home, I went into my bedroom and knelt in prayer. I thanked God for His all-embracing love.

I can remember the first English paper I ever wrote when I was a freshman on this campus. It came back with red marks all over it—suggestions, corrections, sentences obliterated. I had thought I was a good student, that English was one of my best subjects, that I was a good writer. But, no! Now, because of one paper with a bunch of red marks on it, I saw myself as a failure.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I walked across campus, and I questioned what I was doing here. Wasn’t I being just a little like Christie? Did my Father in Heaven think I was a failure because of one English paper? Of course not. But momentarily I lost my confidence, and with it my eternal perspective. I had lost my ability to be the person Heavenly Father saw in me. When we allow this to happen, the light of Christ that is in us dims. That light is a gift to each of us. We are born with it, and by our acts on earth that light either fades or brightens.

Have you ever been stuck, wondering whether you should move forward with your life or wait for the Lord to put things in place for you? If so, welcome to my world. But one experience helped me get unstuck as I trusted in the Lord.
During my first year of college, my professor mentioned a job opportunity for a copyediting position at the school. Having recently discovered my passion for editing, I wanted this job—badly. But I decided to wait and apply when I wasn’t taking classes.
When I went to apply that winter, I was disappointed to find that the team was no longer hiring for the position. I figured I had waited too long and missed my chance. Yet I still had this nagging feeling that I was supposed to have that job. I wondered why things hadn’t worked out when Heavenly Father seemed to be encouraging me toward it. Had I not acted soon enough?
As I pondered the ways Heavenly Father helps me receive revelation, I realized that not receiving this job could have been a blessing to allow me to become more than I was before. Perhaps I needed to learn more before I was ready.
I decided to work on developing my skills, and although I was worried about postponing my application for the next few semesters, the Spirit assured me it was the right decision.
As I waited for the job to open again, I learned more about what editors do and strengthened my understanding of the English language. I gained confidence in my editing abilities and even picked up some other skills. Turns out, I needed all these skills before I would be seriously considered for the job.
Looking back, I know the Lord directed me during this time to help me develop the skills I needed to become a better editor. If I hadn’t felt prompted to seek the job in the first place, I might not have put so much effort into becoming a better editor.
The Lord has multiplied me. When I applied for the job again, I presented an updated résumé noting all the new skills I had gained and was hired within the week. In the end, the Lord knew more than I did about when I would be ready for this job.
The Lord needed me to be in the right place at the right time with the right combination of skills and knowledge to bless me with what I desired. Elder J. Devn Cornish, an emeritus General Authority Seventy, taught: “He knows each of us individually, and He loves us, every one. He wants to bless us.”1
If I had known when I didn’t get the job in the first place that I just needed to “rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him” (Psalm 37:7), I might have noticed sooner that the Lord was helping me shape myself into a more competent editor.
Eventually the timing was right. And when I got the job, I absolutely loved it. I found new friends in my team members, and we grew to trust one another’s judgment and help one another both at work and in life in general. I was so grateful for the growth Heavenly Father encouraged me to experience beforehand. Without it, I wouldn’t have been ready for this job!

Just two years later, at the close of World War II, Elder Benson was called by President George Albert Smith to go to Europe to reorganize the Church there and to distribute badly needed food, clothing, and medical supplies. President Smith lived near the Benson family and promised to watch over Sister Benson and the children while Elder Benson was away.
Although her health was severely tested during the ten months he was gone, Sister Benson’s steadfastness never wavered. Three months after Elder Benson left, their nineteen-month-old daughter, Beth, became seriously ill with pneumonia. Sister Benson’s constant faith and tireless nursing, accompanied by priesthood blessings, restored Beth to health.

Let me share a brief example from my own life. It occurred when I received my mission call. I actually had graduated with my degree in nursing when I was 21. So I left on my mission soon after I had graduated. I am a bit embarrassed to admit it now, but one of the reasons I went into nursing was because I really wanted to serve a welfare/humanitarian mission, and I thought a nursing degree would increase my chances to do this.

And it seemed my plan had worked. My original mission call was to be a mission nurse in Venezuela. However, while in the MTC we had difficulty obtaining visas to enter Venezuela. Some missionaries had been in the MTC an extra two months just waiting for their visas. Finally it was decided that our calls would be changed. Within a day my call was changed from Venezuela to Puerto Rico; and instead of being the mission nurse, I would be a proselyting missionary! That very evening I was on a plane heading to Puerto Rico.

I was in utter shock. Although not so much now, at the time I was incredibly and painfully shy. This shyness was the reason I wanted to serve a welfare/humanitarian mission and not a proselyting mission. Nursing was something I could do because it was helping and serving others. Talking to absolute strangers scared me to death. For several months after I got there, I secretly thought the whole thing was a mistake and that I would soon be going to Venezuela. No, it was not a mistake, and I served my entire mission in Puerto Rico.

With a lot of prayer I learned to strike up a conversation on just about anything. I learned to really trust the Lord. My Spanish was never as good as it should have been, and I am still not the most outgoing person in the world, but I can honestly say I did the best I could, and the events that transpired were what I needed to grow. The Lord knew this even if I didn’t.

Now, this was many years ago, but, looking back, I can see that these experiences have changed and shaped my life in so many ways. First, although my original intentions of studying nursing seemed ill guided, I can see now that the Lord was directing me—just for reasons different than I thought. Nursing is part of my mission in life. Second, serving a proselyting mission really made me stretch much more than anything else would have, and I am so very grateful it did. Finally, this change from my plan brought me experiences I never could have imagined for myself.

I am a planner, and so I originally thought I would return from my mission, go back to New England, work a few years as a pediatric nurse, get married, and have a family. But the Lord had a different path for me. On my mission I learned how much I loved being out with the people. Also, upon my return I found that I wasn’t enjoying hospital nursing—I missed being with the people in their own settings and focusing on empowering them to change themselves. An opportunity soon arose—because I had learned to speak Spanish—to work as a school nurse in a Spanish-speaking area in Utah. Then other experiences and opportunities to further my education occurred, and here I am back at BYU. I have had the opportunity to travel and learn about other countries and cultures, and that has greatly enriched my life. It has shown me that the world isn’t as black and white as I saw it. Although at the time it occurred I couldn’t understand why, looking back now I can see the Lord’s hand guiding me. I am a far better person for these experiences than my plans would have made me. How little I knew!

Several years ago I heard a story that I shall not soon forget:
A young man, climbing in some rugged, high mountain peaks, came across an eagle’s nest. The nest contained several eggs. He took one and gently carried it back to his home. He then put it with several eggs an old hen was setting over. In due time all of the eggs were hatched, and there came forth the eaglet with the baby chicks. During the next several months the baby eagle grew along with the chicks. He scratched in the barnyard for his food like chickens do. Although he grew to full size, he still never flew. The young man watched the process with great interest. He wanted the eagle to fly. So one day he took the eagle up on top of his house and said, “Thou art an eagle, fly.” But the eagle just flew down to the barnyard and commenced scratching like the chickens. A few days later, long before sunlight, the young lad took the eagle to a lofty crag high among the mountain peaks. Then, as the first streaks of sunlight burst over the mountain range, he said, “Thou art an eagle, fly.” The eagle began to stretch its wings; its eye caught a shaft of sunlight; a sensation swept through it from wing tip to wing tip. The fresh, cool air, the smell of pine trees, and an exhilaration it had never known coursed through the great bird. Its wings spread wider; power swept through its entire frame. It began to lift off the arm of the young man. Soon it was lifting and soaring hundreds of feet above the high peaks. It lifted higher and higher and soared farther and farther into the endless sky. It saw more in an instant than its earthbound chicken companions saw in a lifetime. From that time forth the eagle was never more content to be a barnyard fowl.

After coming back from my mission, I moved from my home in Guatemala and started going to school at Brigham Young University in Utah, USA. I was sad and a bit discouraged to move to a place where I seemingly wouldn’t have many opportunities to share the gospel. So I prayed earnestly to find someone who needed to hear the truth.
After a few weeks, I went on a walk after church and saw a tall man looking at posters on campus. I immediately felt that I should talk to him. I was nervous because I was still polishing my English and had no clue what to say. I walked past him but then turned around and introduced myself, trusting Heavenly Father to help me (see Doctrine and Covenants 100:5–6).
We had a nice conversation, and he told me that he wasn’t a member of the Church but he was a student and that he was amazed by the service the Church does for people. I could not believe that I was talking to a nonmember on BYU’s campus! We exchanged phone numbers, and eventually I introduced him to more members of the Church and helped him learn more about the gospel.
The man didn’t join the Church, but through that experience I learned that if we desire to bless other people’s lives, God will help us take the opportunities all around us (see Doctrine and Covenants 4:3). So now I don’t pray for missionary opportunities—I pray to have the eyes to see the missionary opportunities that are in front of me.

There was a man by the name of Syd who lived in a little Maori village on the east coast of New Zealand. At that time there was a large branch of the Church there with about 400 members. One Saturday afternoon President Cowley arrived at this village and went to see his old friend Syd.
As a young man, Syd had been an outstanding athlete. He had attended high school and college in the United States. He had become a well-known basketball player, and, as an all-star athlete, he had received a lot of publicity.
Syd had been ordained a seventy while he had lived in the United States, and when he returned to New Zealand, he had found that he was the only seventy in the whole area, and he didn’t have a quorum to belong to. He had become somewhat inactive, and he hadn’t been keeping the Word of Wisdom, but deep within his heart he still knew the gospel to be true.
President Cowley found Syd sitting in a rocking chair on his front porch, smoking a cigar.
After they had talked and laughed for a while, President Cowley became serious and said, “Syd, I want you to come to church tomorrow.”
They both looked toward the old chapel that was there, and Syd said, “I think it’ll fall in if I do. I haven’t been there for a long time. I don’t think I’d better risk it.”
President Cowley said, “Syd, I want you to be there. I’m going to do something important tomorrow.”
Syd inquired, “What are you going to do?”
President Cowley answered, “I’m going to release the branch president and put in a new one.”
Syd said, “Why don’t you just tell me who the new branch president will be, and then I won’t have to get myself cleaned up for church in the morning.”
President Cowley said, “Well, I’ll tell you who it is. It’s going to be you.”
Syd pulled that old cigar out of his mouth, looked at it, and said, “President, you mean me and my cigar?”
President Cowley said, “No, Syd—just you. We don’t need your cigar.”
Then Syd threw the cigar out on the ground in front of the porch. He thought for a minute, turned to President Cowley, and very humbly said, “I don’t break the Word of Wisdom anymore. I’m a full-tithe payer. I’ll be the branch president, and I’ll be worthy. Tomorrow morning I’ll be there, and I promise you that I’ll be the best branch president in the whole country. You won’t have to worry about me and whether or not I’m living the gospel.”
For the next several years, Syd served as one of the strongest and finest leaders in the mission. His son became the first bishop in the ward when the stake was created. His grandson also served as a bishop. Syd’s whole family is strong and active in the Church today and one of the great families in New Zealand. Why? Because old Syd knew how to repent. He repented on the spot. He remained a faithful Saint until the day he died.

In Mbuji-Mayi, Democratic Republic of the Congo, initially some were critical of the Church, not understanding our beliefs or knowing our members.
Some time ago, Kathy and I attended a very special Church service in Mbuji-Mayi. The children were dressed immaculately, with bright eyes and big smiles. I had hoped to speak to them about their education but learned that many were not attending school. Our leaders, with very nominal humanitarian funds, found a way to help. Now, more than 400 students—girls and boys, members as well as those not of our faith—are welcomed and taught by 16 teachers who are members of the Church of Jesus Christ.
Fourteen-year-old Kalanga Muya said, “[Having little money,] I spent four years without attending school. … I am so grateful for what the Church has done. … I can now read, write, and speak French.” Speaking of this initiative, the mayor of Mbuji-Mayi said, “I am inspired by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints because while [other] churches are being divided each one in his corner … [you are working] with [others] to help the community in need.”

Why can’t I tell?” Ryan asked as he tiptoed behind Samantha to the big willow tree by the creek.
“‘Cause it’s a secret,” his friend Samantha whispered. “Nobody’s supposed to know about it except you and me and Grandpa.” Very carefully she lifted the leafy branch so that Ryan could see. “Don’t touch—just look.”
“Wow!” Ryan exclaimed as he looked at the four tiny white eggs in the nest. “How did you find it?”
“Grandpa showed it to me,” Samantha said proudly. “He says that if we don’t disturb it, pretty soon we’ll see the baby birds when they’re hatched. It’s a secret ’cause if lots of kids start coming around, the mother will abandon the nest.”
“Wow!” Ryan said again as he put the branch back in place to hide the nest. “I never saw a bird’s nest with real eggs in it before. I won’t tell anyone else.”
“We’ll come back on Saturday,” Samantha said as they started home. “Grandpa says that the eggs should be hatched by then.”
Ryan remembered the nature study lesson their second grade class had just had. “I have an idea,” he said. “If we’re careful not to disturb the mother, maybe we can watch her feed the babies and see them learn to fly.”
“Great idea!” Samantha agreed.
Ryan felt proud that Samantha trusted him with the secret. He wished he felt the same way about the secret Joey had told him last week. That secret made Ryan feel scared because Joey had said that Ryan would be in big trouble if he told anyone, and Joey was a big bully.
When Mom called him for lunch, Ryan was still thinking about Joey’s secret.
“Aren’t you hungry today?” Mom asked when she saw him pushing his macaroni around the plate with his fork.
“Not very.” Macaroni was his favorite, but today it didn’t taste so good. “Mom, is it OK for a kid to tell a secret if someone told him not to?”
“That depends,” Mom said. “If it’s a secret that makes you feel unhappy or upset, you should always tell a grown-up you can trust. But if the secret makes you feel happy, then it’s a good secret and you should keep it.”
Ryan liked what Mom said, and she was a grown-up he could trust. “Mom, Joey told me a secret about how easy it is to snitch stuff from Mr. Sonny’s store.”
“Did you feel happy when he told you?” Mom asked.
“No, but he said I’d be in big trouble if I told, and I’m scared of him.”
Mom smiled. “You won’t be in any big trouble. I’m pleased that you didn’t like Joey’s secret. I’ll speak to Mr. Sonny, and he can deal with Joey.”
Suddenly the macaroni tasted wonderful. Ryan knew that the secret he shared with Samantha was one he would keep. It was a good one. Soon he would see four fluffy baby birds in the nest, and that made him happy.

I remember helping my eight-year-old son make a gift for his mother. He had determined to make a key holder from a piece of board. Following the guidelines of not purchasing anything, we found an old piece of wood. It took about three times longer than normal to sand it down, as it was not a quality piece of wood.
When it came time to paint it, we realized we didn’t have a paintbrush. So we took some pieces of straw and bamboo from an old basket and made our own. I wondered whether it really would look that nice when finished, but to our surprise, the bamboo and straw together worked as well as any paintbrush I had ever used.
I wanted to buy the hooks needed to hold the keys, but my son reminded me that we couldn’t do that. We ended up using some headless nails that we patiently shaped with great love and dedication. They were shaped into hooks as beautiful as any that we could have purchased at a store. When it was all finished, it was a gift from our hearts to Mom.

I started college at the University of Texas in Austin and began to contemplate serving a full-time mission. This became another test of how well I could couple a sincere heart with real intent. I was definitely curious to know the Lord’s will about my missionary service. But as I had learned while investigating the Church, curiosity alone is not sufficient. I was convinced that the answer to my question about serving a mission would be revealed in my patriarchal blessing, so I traveled to San Antonio, where the patriarch pronounced my blessing. There was, however, no mention of a mission. Driving home, I reasoned that maybe the Lord didn’t want me to serve. But then I felt impressed to pull off the road. I walked over to a grove of trees and knelt down. As soon as I commenced my prayer, the words that came into my mind were very clear: “I didn’t have to tell you to go. You already know you’re supposed to go.”
I’d been a member only about a year and 10 months when I went into the mission field in Guatemala and El Salvador. It was there that I learned what it meant to consecrate my life to do what the Lord wanted me to do. My mission was my preparation for the rest of my life. Had I not gone on a mission and learned what I did there, I might never have had the opportunities that I have today. Today I am living in Guatemala again, where I serve in the Central America Area Presidency. I love being back among the people who meant so much to me in the development of my own testimony.

May I tell you of my own testimony concerning the benefits of Relief Society for single women?
After my husband’s sudden death several years ago, I felt that life was giving me more challenges than I should have. I felt a large amount of self-pity and rebellion to think that as a relatively young woman, I was facing the fact that I would probably spend the rest of my life alone. While I was wrestling with these problems, the opportunity came for me to accept a position at the headquarters of the Relief Society and to become a member of its general board. There was but one drawback—it required that I move far from my family and friends to Salt Lake City.
Of course, I accepted the calling and loved my work in it. But as satisfying as it was, I found that I still needed friends and companionship outside my world of work.
In Relief Society I found that I had friends in my ward. My testimony was strengthened as I participated in gospel studies and heard the testimonies of other sisters. It brought out my valuable feminine qualities, and I found opportunities for service, as well as for homemaking activities. It brought relief from some of the pressures of life and from loneliness, and it gave me a fresh point of view.