Gospel Story Finder

The shipping industry is a major employer, and it would have employed Richardt Andersen, Copenhagen’s stake president, if his commitment to the Lord had not changed his plans.

“I had served in the Danish Navy and wanted to be trained as a navigator,” President Andersen recalls. But after completing his mission in Denmark in 1970, he married Helmi, and they had the first of their six sons. Instead of Esbjerg and a life on the sea, he was called as bishop of the Copenhagen Second Ward and became a policeman. For the past nine years he has been the stake president.

For the past three years the number of convert baptism in the Copenhagen stake has doubled, growing from twenty-seven in 1988 to one hundred in 1990. “We stand on the shoulders of those who’ve gone before. We’re working to finish the building on the foundation they laid,” he says. His work includes Saturday jobs with his sons, who are earning money for their missions; whatever he earns while working with them goes into the fund.

Sister Ivone Armada from the Luanda Stake in Angola decided to use the Savior’s perspective as a guide for her gospel living. With her permission, I am sharing her comments. She wrote:
“At some point in my life, I was finally able to stop working to keep up with my children’s growth and home management. But I wanted to do something more, to contribute to the growth of one’s life.
“I prayed to the Lord, and at the end of the prayer an ‘angel’ was placed in my life—a friend who would help me become a facilitator to teach literacy classes.
“We started the training for this and when it ended, I divulged the project in the Church and in the community and thus formed a class where I could teach during a school year for children and adults with literacy needs.
“It was a great gift in my life, indeed for my whole family, since the preparation of the classes became a family project. It became a beacon—not only in the students’ lives but also in mine—I learned a lot about sacrifice with them and about perseverance.
“Three years later, on the day of the creation of the Angola Stake, I had the great blessing of meeting with several of these students (an adult and the rest—young people) and how wonderful it was to hear them say that they had never failed school again, they were so excited. My heartbeat fired and I remember looking up and saying in silence: ‘Thank you Father in Heaven’.
“Upon hearing one of the adult sisters that attended the class say that because of these classes she was able to start a small business that has provided for her family’s needs, we embraced each other, and we began to weep with gratitude. My husband and the people around me were perplexed to see this. My husband realized what was happening.
“With this experience, what is found in Doctrine and Covenants 81:5 and 84:106 gained tremendous weight in my personal and spiritual growth. I became a humbler person and had the purpose of leaving a legacy of greater service to my neighbor.”
Thanks to this experience, Sister Ivone continues to contribute in training and developing others. She went over and beyond what was being asked and used her time and talents to help others at Church and in her community. She indeed ministered to those in need and was blessed far beyond her expectations for that.

One evening in June 1978, Billy Johnson returned to his home in Cape Coast, Ghana. He and other members of his congregation had been fasting, as they often did, but the fast had done nothing to lift his spirits. He was tired and discouraged because more believers had stopped worshipping with him and returned to their old churches.
Billy longed to feel spiritually and emotionally strong again. A couple of months earlier, a member of his congregation had told him about a revelation she had had. “Very soon the missionaries will come,” she had said. “I have seen white men coming to our church. They embraced us and joined us in worship.” Another woman announced that she had received a similar revelation. Billy himself had dreamed of some white men entering his chapel and saying, “We are your brothers, and we have come to baptize you.” Afterward, he had dreamed of Black people coming from far and wide to join the Church.
Still, Billy could not shake his discouragement.
It was getting late, but he couldn’t sleep. A strong impression overtook him to listen to the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) on the radio—something he hadn’t done in years.
He found the radio, a brown model with four silver knobs near the base. The radio crackled to life as he turned it on. He fiddled with the knobs, and the red pointer glided back and forth across the dial. But he couldn’t find the broadcast.
Then, after an hour of searching, Billy finally made out a newscast from the BBC. The reporter announced that the President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints had received a revelation. All worthy men in the Church, regardless of race, could now hold the priesthood.
Billy collapsed, bursting into tears of joy. Priesthood authority would finally come to Ghana, bringing all the blessings of the gospel to his people.
Missionaries arrived in Cape Coast later that year, baptizing Billy Johnson and hundreds of other believers. Since that time, the Church has spread rapidly throughout Ghana and neighboring countries in West Africa. The Cape Coast Ghana Temple was announced in October 2023; it will be the third temple in the country.

Elder Walker was on assignment in Tonga when he met a couple whose lives exemplified faith and devotion. This couple was known for their unwavering obedience to the Lord, consistently prioritizing His work, even at the expense of their own health and personal needs.

As he got to know them, Elder Walker learned that the husband suffered from a heart condition that required surgery, an operation that would cost $24,000 and needed to be performed in Australia. The couple could not afford the procedure or the travel expenses, but thankfully, a family member in Australia offered financial help.

Soon after arriving in Australia for the surgery, however, the man felt a strong prompting to return home, even before the operation. Trusting this spiritual impression, he returned to Tonga, where he was soon called as the stake president. His sense of duty replaced any consideration for his own wellbeing, and he postponed addressing his health concerns to focus on serving the members of his stake.

Elder Walker counselled with the couple, urging them to prioritize the husband’s health so that the Lord could continue to bless him and use him to care for his family and his stake. Shortly after, the man was able to receive financial assistance and returned to Australia for health tests and medical advice.

Following some of these tests, Elder Walker received an intriguing message from a family member in Australia. The family member reported that during one scan, the technician noticed something unusual—something resembling a metal stent appeared exactly where the pain originated. When asked if the husband had undergone any surgery before, the family member assured the technician that he had not.

This unexpected finding was a sign of divine intervention, a miracle that allowed the husband to continue his service without needing the costly operation.

This experience left a lasting impression on Elder Walker, strengthening his testimony of the miracles that occur when we exercise faith and obey the promptings of the Holy Ghost. The humble couple’s willingness to sacrifice and trust in the Lord exemplifies the truth in 2 Nephi 27:23: "For behold, I am God; and I am a God of miracles; and I will show unto the world that I am the same yesterday, today, and forever; and I work not among the children of men save it be according to their faith."

I remember coming home from the hospital that day. My parents helped me out of the car, through the house, and onto my bed. I remember lying there, feeling helpless for the first time in my life.
I grew up playing sports. I even hoped to run track in college someday. But toward the end of high school, I tore my anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) in my knee—for the second time. This required several surgeries and over a year of rehab to fix. My first surgery was right before I graduated, and I had to stay home while my friends started the next chapter of their lives studying at new colleges, serving missions, and moving to exciting cities. My future, once secure, was now full of uncertainty.
Admittedly, I knew these challenges were not unique or extraordinary, but they were my challenges—and they were hard! My immediate reaction was to reach out for any sense of certainty and create plans for my future. But in that process of striving for personal assurance or security, a process that is still continuing today, I’ve learned a few things.
Education has played an important role in helping me understand uncertainty. While I was recovering from surgery, I began taking Brigham Young University–Idaho courses online. I initially wasn’t sure if online learning was right for me, but the incredible experiences I had quickly changed my opinion.
I learned a lot from my classmates who were in different circumstances. My education helped me to think differently about myself and the world around me, and my priorities started changing. I began to enjoy learning rather than passively going through the motions, and the gospel of Jesus Christ had more significance in my life.
Without my education, I would not be who I am today. I believe that my decision to serve a full-time mission was because of those courses. I believe God was guiding me and will continue to work with me as I have faith in Him.
While the future is still filled with uncertainty, it isn’t as uncomfortable for me anymore. My experiences have strengthened my relationship with God and have helped me change my approach to life. Rather than overthinking everything (something I’m a master of), I’ve realized that sometimes I just need to act. This is not a carefree attitude, but confidence that I now know Heavenly Father will help me, inspire me, and open doors of opportunity for me as I step forward in faith.
President Russell M. Nelson recently said, “Positive spiritual momentum will keep us moving forward amid … fear and uncertainty.”3 With the momentum I’ve gained, the cloud of uncertainty has been replaced with a bright hope for the future. Looking back, I’ve realized that God has been with me—maybe not in the ways I’d expected, but He’s always been there in the way I needed Him most.

Jeff: Let us close with one final story. It is a BYU variation on Brother Skidmore’s experience.
For more than twenty-five years Ben E. Lewis was the executive vice-president of Brigham Young University. He is now retired. I recently asked him to do something very important for the university for which I wanted to give him a token of modest compensation. He refused the money. I argued with him and told him I was the president and he had to do what I said. He said he was retired and that he didn’t have to do anything I said. I shoved the money at him and he shoved it back at me. We argued and then he told me this story.
He said that following his undergraduate years at BYU (where he was a student body president, by the way) he had received an Alfred P. Sloan fellowship for graduate work at the University of Denver. As part of the Sloan fellowship, he and a handful of other students were regularly taken out into the Colorado business community to meet leaders and executives, and enjoy rather high-level exchange with them. One particular professor always took the group, and they spent many hours together.
After each day’s work with these business leaders, the professor would always stop some where for a beer with the students. Brother Lewis always ordered a soft drink. That led to a lot of conversation over many weeks, and the professor came to introduce Ben everywhere they went—at every business, at every school, to every leader, and to every executive—this way: “This is Ben Lewis,” he would say. “He’s a Mormon and he doesn’t drink beer.” Every-where and with everyone it was always the same—“This is Ben Lewis. He’s a Mormon and he doesn’t drink beer.” Over the course of many months that phrase was repeated dozens and dozens and dozens of times. “This is Ben Lewis. He’s a Mormon and he doesn’t drink beer.”
One day after a field trip to Fort Collins, the professor wheeled the group, up to a pit stop of some kind where, of course, he and the others ordered their beer. Except this time the professor ordered two beers. Ben asked him why. He said, “Because its my birthday and you are going to have a beer with me.” “No,” Ben said, “I can’t have a beer with you, but I do wish you a happy birthday.”
“You will have a beer with me,” his teacher said. “At least you must have one sip. It is very important to me, and I ask it of you this one time.” And he put a dollar bill on the table. “Drink one sip of beer and that dollar is yours.” Brother Lewis said he didn’t want to give offense but, no, he would not be able to drink the beer, even for the dollar.
That conversation, with some increasing tension, escalated until the man had placed $50 on the counter. He was obviously intent on having Ben participate in this unusual birthday party, and he was in a position to do a student considerable academic harm if he were so inclined.
Like Brother Skidmore, Brother Lewis wondered what to do. He did not want to offend a man who had been particularly kind to him. It was now a very awkward situation, and virtually everyone in the restaurant was aware of some difficulty over at their corner table. One sip would soothe the situation. Surely the Lord would know the integrity of his heart in this matter. Certainly no permanent damage would be done. Furthermore, $50 in 1941 meant a lot to a working student who wasn’t at all sure where his next meal was coming from.
There, a long way from home, as he mulled over this difficult situation and wondered how to handle the problem, words so clear and loud spoken directly to his brain nearly startled him from the table. As audibly as I speak to you, Brother Lewis said he heard the words from an unseen source. “This is Ben Lewis. He’s a Mormon, and he drinks beer.”
Then he said there in my office, “I didn’t drink the beer, and I can’t take the money. I’m a Mormon. This is Brigham Young University. I love it with all my heart. I have given my life to it. I want to give more. I can’t take the money.”

A Modern-Day Example
I received a letter from a returned missionary whom I shall call Elder Carnalus Luciferno, for no one in his right mind would have such a name, and my correspondent was certainly out of his mind.
His letter told me of his own conversion, of his service as a zone leader in the mission field, and of making many converts. But after returning home, as he expressed it, “I returned to my old Gentile ways.”
After thus ceasing to be a true Saint, and becoming a genuine Gentile, he met some representatives of another church who taught him that we are saved by grace, without works, simply by believing in the Lord Jesus.
Thereupon he was saved, and his letter, which he sent to many people, was an invitation to these others to believe in Christ and be saved as he was saved.
Later I said to his mission president, “Tell me about Elder Carnalus Luciferno.”
“Oh,” he said, “Elder Carnalus Luciferno was a good missionary who made many converts. But since returning home he has been excommunicated.”
“Oh,” I said. “What was his problem?”
The mission president replied, “Before he joined the Church, he was a homosexual, and we understood that since his release he has reverted to his old ways.”

One day at recess, my friend Brooklyn and I saw a younger girl from another grade sitting next to the wall, crying.
“What’s wrong?” Brooklyn asked.
“I don’t have any friends to play with,” the girl sniffed.
She told us her friends had moved away. Now she didn’t know anyone in her grade to play with. I felt bad for her. I knew how it felt to lose a friend.
“We know how you feel,” Brooklyn told the girl.
“Maybe after school you could talk to your mom,” I said.
The girl nodded.
“Do you have a journal or diary to write in? It helps,” I said.
We spent the rest of recess talking and giving her tips on how to make new friends.
The bell rang, and we had to leave to go back to class. I felt the Spirit helping her, and I knew I did what Jesus wanted me to do.

Basketball season came. Everybody knew Billie by now. Everybody knew he would be playing. The referees knew what to do when he tried to dribble. The teams made certain allowances. He was really part of things.
Stake championship again. We worked our way through the teams in the stake, and the final game was between us and—you guessed it—them.
Well, it was close the first half, but then we fell apart. The coach could see what was happening, and by the third quarter it was pretty obvious that nothing was going to work for us that night. While we were looking for some way to get even with the same guys that beat us in volleyball, something unique was happening on the basketball court.
Billie was playing. He really couldn’t shoot. One arm and hand was withered, and he couldn’t give much direction to the ball. But every time he got the ball, their coach yelled for someone to foul Billie. That was the end; I was fighting mad. Even the people in the crowd couldn’t believe their ears. Why was our bishop smiling? Then one of their players gingerly went out and tapped Billie. One referee was so mystified by what was happening that he just stood there. In fact everybody just stood there for several silent seconds. Then the other referee blew his whistle, and when he did everyone understood. Billie got to shoot a foul shot. In fact, he got to shoot two foul shots (intentional foul), and when he missed those, one of the boys on the other team was standing with his foot over the line and Billie got to shoot again, in fact several more.
The crowd was clapping and cheering for Billie; we were cheering for him, but so was the other team. Was this really losing? Everyone was pulling together. No one seemed to care what the score was; everyone was helping Billie. Both teams were helping and cheering and pulling for Billie.
Billie shot a lot of free throws that night. We all cheered; we laughed a little; and Billie went home the star of the evening. Who won? They did, we did, and the stake did.

“Brother Jacobs told us about the actual people the play was based on. They left their family behind in Armenia because they knew the Church was true. They decided to come to Utah. After they left, their family was killed. It makes you realize how important this play is. It gives you an appreciation for what people went through,” says 16-year-old Shae Dunkley.
Armenia of the 1890s may seem an unlikely place to find a missionary story, but the play “And They Shall Be Gathered,” written by Martin Kelly, is exactly that. Based on the true conversion story of husband and wife Arzuman and Akaby Tavoian, the play explores not only gospel principles but the love of a family as well.
Arzuman and Akaby (named Sarkis and Arick in the play) learn about the gospel individually, and each decides to be baptized—without telling the other person. (Because of their common last name, the missionaries are unaware that they are married.) When they discover they are both members of this new religion, they realize they must leave the country and go to Utah in order to fully live and practice their faith.
Just as they are preparing to leave, another young family member is killed in an accident. The family is severely saddened by the death and doesn’t understand why he was taken so young. Sarkis and Arick are able to leave with their family the gospel message of hope and the knowledge of life after death.
They then bid their family a fond but teary farewell and set out for Utah.
Sadly, Sarkis and Arick never hear from their family again. It is assumed that they were killed by invading Turks just after Sarkis and Arick left the country.

“Are you going to paint this Saturday?” has been the familiar question among many college youth in Las Vegas, where they have painted the inside and outside of a church built by the Afro-Methodist Episcopal Church whose members were having trouble getting the building finished. The congregation lacked funds. The Student Association of Las Vegas Region pitched in and raised $4,000, in addition to painting the building. Under the direction of priesthood leader James Seastrand, president of the Las Vegas North Stake, and Reverend Charles Wyatt, the project got under way. It was a great time of togetherness, with the Relief Society and the ladies of the Afro-Methodist congregation providing lunch each workday. Funds were raised through dances, bake sales, car washes, and concerts. “The unity among the students and with people of another race was something wonderful to behold,” said Shauna Rollins, vice-chairman of one M Men-Gleaner Council in the area.

Taking to heart the theme of their youth conference, Be Thou an Example—Strength through Service, youth from the Reno Nevada North Stake showed a lot of strength. One day of the conference was spent on a spring cleanup project at the Rancho San Rafael Regional Park. More than 134 youth were grouped in “families” and worked a total of 670 hours and filled 225 large garden bags with leaves and debris.
That evening youth-conference “families” performed cultural presentations from various countries or regions around the world to reflect the theme of being an example to all the world. The conference concluded with a testimony meeting.

Moroni Rubio was only 16 when he earned the number one ranking among sprinters in Mexico, after breaking records in the 100- and 200-meter sprints. That same year, 2002, he took first place in the 100 meters at the Central American Junior Championships and was named athlete of the year in the state of Yucatán.
His dreams are pinned on his feet, which are expected to carry him all the way to the 2008 Summer Olympics in Beijing, China. But even if, for some reason, his feet don’t take him to the Olympics, they will have already accomplished a great work.
His feet have put his unique name in the spotlight, bringing him numerous missionary opportunities. Because of Moroni’s success, he’s been on television a number of times—each time with his name right there on the screen.
“I’m asked about my name a lot,” says Moroni, a priest in the Mérida México Lakín Stake. “It’s a great opportunity to talk about the gospel. And when I race, the members watching always know I’m a member too—by my name. I think it’s something they’re proud of.”

“As parents of five, we are teaching our children to recognize their missionary opportunities,” says Laura F. Nielsen of the Cupertino Ward, Saratoga California Stake. “Every week in family home evening we take a few minutes to discuss what opportunities each family member had during the previous seven days to be a missionary and how each person responded to them.” As a family, the Nielsens discuss different options for handling those situations.
As a result, family members are learning what constitutes a missionary opportunity. For example, they have learned to refer to the Church by its full name rather than a nickname. One of the children gave a school report on Church history. Another shared his excitement about being baptized when schoolteachers wished him a happy eighth birthday.
Occasionally a family member will admit that he or she missed or ignored a missionary opportunity, and this gives the family a chance to talk about what happened and learn to take better advantage of a similar opportunity in the future. “Family enthusiasm helps us overcome embarrassment or laziness,” Sister Nielsen says. “Our children now actively look for opportunities on their own and eagerly report to the family for feedback. By helping each other this way, we are growing in our own capacity to share the gospel.”

Sometimes coaches are convinced that one or two athletes are indispensable to their team’s success. Can we be justified in overlooking flagrant violations of BYU standards in order to protect such athletes? If so, we make a mockery of the values that underpin the university.
Perhaps this can be put in perspective by an event that took place in 1954. BYU’s basketball team was 3-11 in the early season and going nowhere. Our most outstanding player was dismissed from school. When this athlete left the team, attitudes changed, discipline was restored, and another player, Herschel “Bones” Pederson, replaced him. The season was turned around: the team finished second in the conference with a 10-4 record. How could this be? Interestingly, “Bones” was one of those, rare for his day, returned missionaries.
It is clear to me that it is appropriate at times to dismiss athletes who will not abide BYU’s standards, notwithstanding the condemnation of the press. Upholding the Honor Code will not result in unsuccessful seasons. I remember when Coach Clarence Robison dismissed an All-American from our track team. This athlete’s removal from school happened because a coach was committed to BYU standards. Coach Robison asked the young man to leave because his behavior clearly demonstrated he would not change.

This story took place in the USA.
Roy sat down at the table and opened his lunch bag. His family had just moved, and this was his first day at his new school. His mom had made his favorite Armenian food, kofta. He was excited to eat it!
Roy unrolled the wax paper wrapped around the kofta. It was like a long, skinny meatball. He loved the smell of the spices baked into the meat. And the hole in the middle made it like a little whistle. He put it to his lips and blew. Then he took a bite. Delicious!
“Hey,” said a boy across the table. “What’s that weird thing you’re eating?”
Roy felt his cheeks flush. “It’s my lunch.”
“Well, it doesn’t look very good.” The boy laughed.
Roy didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know that no one else here ate kofta. He didn’t want them to think he was weird! So he put away his lunch and ran outside for recess.
After school, Roy found Mom unpacking boxes.
“I don’t want to take kofta to school anymore,” Roy said.
“Why?” Mom asked. “It’s your favorite.”
Roy told her what happened at school. “It was so embarrassing!”
“I’m sorry that happened,” Mom said. “Most people here have never had kofta. What if we gave the other kids a chance to try some?”
“Why?” Roy asked. “They won’t eat it.”
“Well, you can’t know unless you ask! I know it’s hard to make new friends. But we are all children of God. Sometimes we just have to get to know more about each other.”
Roy thought about it. He didn’t want to be laughed at. But he did want to give the kids at lunch a better chance to understand. And kofta really was tasty.
He nodded. “OK. Let’s make more.”
The next day at lunch, Roy took a deep breath. He sat down next to the boy who had laughed at him.
Roy opened his lunch bag. “Would any of you like to try some Armenian food?”
The other kids gathered around as Roy unwrapped the kofta.
“I’ll try some,” the boy said.
“Me too,” a girl added. Roy passed around the kofta so everyone could try it. Then they all took a bite.
“This is really good!” the boy said. “What’s it called?”
“Kofta,” Roy said.
“Cool!” The boy smiled. “I’m John. Want to play at recess?”
Roy could only nod with a full mouth. His mom was right—they were all children of God too! And sharing helped him make friends after all.

When I began my studies at BYU after my mission, I was pretty much set on becoming a teacher. My father and two of my brothers were teachers, so I thought that would be my path. I started in that direction with great anticipation. I completed a good number of classes in my major. Then, after a day of substitute teaching at a local high school, I felt like I should take another path. I dreaded the call to my parents to let them know I was changing my major. The problem was I had no idea what I was changing it to! Does that sound familiar to any of you?

I prayed and pondered and still had no idea what to do. The clock was ticking, and I knew I needed to get things figured out fairly soon so I didn’t waste time and money.

One day in the spring of 1982, I was walking across campus when I ran into a good friend who had served in my mission. I shared with him my dilemma and asked what he had decided to study. He said he was majoring in computer science. These were his exact words: “I hear this whole computer thing is going to be big!” How prophetic!

I don’t know if there has ever been a more direct answer to the prayer of a very anxious soul. I immediately enrolled in computer science classes and began my studies.

My decision to follow that inspiration truly lifted me up and has been life-changing for me and my family.

I can still remember a powerful teaching moment from my mother in Brooklyn, New York, USA, 70 years ago. After my father had baptized me and while I was still in my wet baptismal clothes, my mother sat me down on a rusted metal folding chair in front of the baptismal font. She reviewed with me the importance of baptism by priesthood authority, the purpose of my baptismal covenant to take upon myself the name of Jesus Christ, and the law of obedience. Then she asked me how I felt. I remember telling her I had a warm feeling all over and that I would like to feel that way for the rest of my life.

My mother looked into my eyes and taught me that in a few moments my father would lay his hands upon my head and would confirm me a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He would confer upon me the gift of the Holy Ghost, she said, and if I remained worthy, true, and faithful to the commandments, the Holy Ghost would be with me to provide guidance and direction throughout my life. Although I had this experience with my mother many years ago, I have never forgotten that important teaching moment.

You can decide—and you must—to change what you say even when you can’t control what others say. But I know from my own experience that even in such a terrible situation you can count on God’s help. Years ago I was an air force officer serving for two years in an office with a marine colonel, an army colonel, and a grizzled navy commander. They had learned to speak in war and in peace in a way which offended me, and I know it repelled the Holy Ghost. I was at the time serving as a district missionary, trying in the evenings to go out to find people and teach them under the influence of the Holy Ghost. It was very hard. I was only a lieutenant. They were very senior to me. I had no way of changing their language. But I prayed for help. I don’t know how God did it, but in time their language changed. Slowly the profanity disappeared and then the vulgarity. Only when they drank liquor did it come back, but that was in the evenings, so I could excuse myself for missionary work.

It was only two days before the junior prom, and all the junior class was looking forward to one of the great events in the life of a high school girl.
To make it an even more memorable experience, the senior boys had drawn up a list of all the girls in the junior class. They made it their duty to be sure that each girl had a date. It was a wonderful gesture, and because of them, every girl in the junior class had a date. Everyone but me, that is.
Somehow I had been overlooked. The knowledge of that only added to my embarrassment, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone, not even my closest friends. I felt sure I would be able to live through this and simply hide away in my room for the night eating peanut butter cups. Everyone would be too caught up in the spectacular evening to realize I wasn’t there.
But that plan was also not to be my fate. I was reminded that the junior girls on the drill team were required to perform the "Couples Dance" after the introduction of class members. I would have to go to the prom without an escort, perform the dance, and leave by myself. Everyone in the world would know that I didn’t have a date to that all-important dance.
Two nights before the prom I locked myself in my room to perform the peanut butter cup ritual that I had earlier envisioned would take place on the night of the prom. I lit a solemn candle as a reminder that I alone carried this humiliating burden. Before I could take the first pitiful bite of candy, the tears were already racing down my face. What a lonely, sad creature I was. What a terrible day to remember and someday explain to my grandchildren, "Oh yes, the junior prom is a night I will never forget." I pictured myself quickly changing the subject with them so they wouldn’t know what a reject their old granny had been.
But as I sobbed in the middle of the greatest agony I had experienced in my young life, a wonderful, warm feeling of peace and love engulfed me. There were no words spoken to my mind, but suddenly I had full knowledge that I was not alone. My Savior was aware of my sorrow, very much aware. He had not forsaken me even when the outcome was not essential to my salvation. He cared enough for me to let me know He shared in my pain.
What a spectacular knowledge this was. Suddenly, my memories of the prom would not be as tarnished as I had imagined. One of the greatest truths of my life had been taught to me in a very special, loving way.
After that moment of sadness, everything changed. The next day the error was discovered and quickly rectified. Several boys apologized and insisted that they thought I already had a date. They were very thoughtful and concerned, and soon I had an escort.
The night of the prom was great, but it was nothing compared to what I had just experienced. Even though the decorations were beautiful, my dress was perfect, and I had that all-important date, that night could never compare to the feeling I had when the Spirit bore witness of the great love my Savior has for me. His love never fails, even when our pain is temporary, or even seemingly silly. It wasn’t essential to my salvation to go to the prom, but it is essential to know of the great love the Lord has for each of us. Now I know I’ll be able to truthfully tell my grandchildren that the junior prom was one of the greatest experiences of my life.