Gospel Story Finder

Three months passed before I was interviewed and ordained a deacon. That Sunday morning I stood in front of the sacrament table to distribute the emblems of the Atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ. I still remember the surroundings: The dining room of a home had been transformed into a meeting hall for sacrament meetings that were attended by a few members. It was my first opportunity to magnify my priesthood calling. Nine months later I was ordained a teacher and learned how to teach and to watch over the few members of the branch.
Another four months passed, and I was ordained a priest. Now I stood on the other side of the sacrament table. The decor was the same, but I felt different. It impressed me that now I was blessing the emblems of the Atonement and memorizing “that they may eat in remembrance of the body of thy Son, and witness unto thee, … and always remember him and keep his commandments … that they may always have his Spirit to be with them” (D&C 20:77).
Two years passed after my baptism, and the day arrived for me to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood and to be ordained an elder. The mission president once again laid his hands upon my head. The higher authority and power to act in the name of the Lord were given.
The Church is a divine institution led by the authority of the priesthood. I testify that Jesus lives, that this is the only true church, that the priesthood of the Son of God is vested herein, and that the prophets, seers, and revelators who preside over this church are appointed to preserve the pure doctrine of Jesus Christ and the authority of his priesthood for the salvation of his people.

Professional life is another area which provides opportunities for friendships. Once when I was working in California, I was offered a job in New York City. My employers told me people didn’t care about each other there.
I couldn’t believe people could live the way they described. It made me want to go to New York City just to prove them wrong. But after six months working there, I was ready to concede my California friends were right. Then I decided I hadn’t made much of an effort myself.
So I started a program to find out if New York City workers were really human. I lived in Scarsdale, about a 45-minute train ride from New York. The train ran exactly on schedule. I started noticing the habits of the commuters. They would leave home at exactly the same minute each morning, walk to the station, buy a New York Times, walk to a certain board on the platform, fold their paper, stand on that board until the train arrived, get on the same car, find the same seat, and read their newspaper all the way into Grand Central Station. They would never speak as they traveled their various routes.
I decided the only way to get to know them was to break the routine. I selected a man I thought I would like to get acquainted with, and after observing his routine for a few days, I planned a counter-routine.
I arrived at the station at about the same time he did. As soon as he started to walk down to his favorite board on the platform, I broke into a run and just beat him there, firmly planting my two feet on his favorite spot. This unnerved him so that he didn’t even unfold his newspaper.
When the train arrived, I jumped on and took his favorite seat. He rode all the way into the city visibly disturbed. I believe I ruined the entire day for him. The next morning I repeated the same process.
Then the most remarkable thing happened the third morning. When I arrived at the train platform, he was already there, firmly planted on his favorite board, reading his newspaper. I couldn’t help but laugh. He gave me a scowl, and then he couldn’t hold back either. I introduced myself as a new arrival determined to break the routine of a commuter. We had an enjoyable visit. We got on the train and talked all the way into New York.
From then on, breaking each other’s routine became a game. We would race each morning for that favorite spot. Soon others noticed what we were doing, and before we knew it, there were three, then four, then five, then ten, all racing for that particular board each morning.
The great friendships made then have endured many years. The cold New Yorker was just as friendly as anyone else. All you had to do was break through that city shell.

It had all begun under the stars and the moon one night in Wyoming in a mad flight of spinning wheels and flying shadows known forever after as the “midnight ride of the Orem 15th.” The quorum was on a camping trip and a few priests brought along their motorcycles. One night about bedtime their adviser, Dave Anderson, jumped into the saddle, called his cohorts to horse, and they flew away over mountains and moonlit meadows like so many Paul Reveres. The night seemed to be alive. More animals than they had ever seen stood watching them pass as if hypnotized by the string of moving lights.
They got back to camp about 2:00 A.M., feeling that they were much more than just a few people assigned to the same quorum. They were friends.
Fired by the enthusiasm of the midnight riders, the whole quorum joined in, and in the weeks that followed they framed a lot of territory between handlebars.

As a young child, Kavira V. couldn’t communicate with anyone. But now she’s found ways to connect with others, including her Heavenly Father.
Sixteen-year-old Kavira V. from Florida, USA, knows the value of communication. Whether with family, with friends, or with God, Kavira is glad to be able to talk to them.
Part of the reason she values that connection so much is that she knows what it’s like not to have it.
Before moving to Florida, Kavira’s family originally lived in Uganda. Kavira is deaf and didn’t have access to sign language as a child, so she couldn’t really communicate with people around her.
That communication barrier affected many aspects of her life. Regarding school, she says, “Math was hard for me. I didn’t learn English, and I was bullied. There was a lot of discrimination.”
Church was hard too. At that time her family belonged to a different faith. “I didn’t have language access, so I didn’t understand what was going on,” Kavira says. She would sit through the services and go through the rituals without knowing what they meant. “There weren’t many opportunities for Deaf people,” she says.
The barrier also affected her connection to her family. “I’m the only Deaf person in my family, so sometimes I would feel unequal to them.”
When Kavira was around eight or nine years old, her family moved to Florida. Since she was young and couldn’t communicate with them, she didn’t know exactly why they chose to move. But it could have been to find better opportunities for her and the whole family.
When Kavira’s family moved to Florida, they found a deaf school she could attend. “Being able to have that education is amazing,” she says. “I’ve been able to learn things like math, communication, life skills like finding a job, and study skills.” She now uses American Sign Language (ASL).
She also enjoys extracurricular activities. “I like any kind of sports,” she says. “Growing up, I always played soccer, and I found out they have it here [in the U.S.] too.” She’s also learned volleyball, flag football, basketball, and swimming. “It’s been fun learning these new sports.”
And since Kavira was little she’s always loved art. She hopes to improve and maybe even continue studying art in college. “I want to keep studying to learn more,” she says. “I really enjoy school and learning.”
Kavira’s parents encourage her in her education. “They say to do what you can to learn everything,” she says. She’s very grateful that her family found a deaf school for her.
After learning more, Kavira doesn’t feel unequal in her family anymore, because she has realized she’s the same as them. She talks to her parents and siblings a lot. “I know sometimes as youth, we don’t really value our family—maybe sometimes we value our friends more than our family,” says Kavira. “But my family is what has made me strong. My parents have taught me the things I should value. They’ve helped me to be a good and kind person.”
“My family is what has made me strong,” says Kavira.

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

“Please,” he begged. “Please.”

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

As we faithfully seek information about ancestors with the purpose of performing temple ordinances, we’ll be exposed to events and impressions that will perceptibly show the Lord’s hand in this work. During the 1960s my wife’s grandfather, who served as a branch president in the southernmost part of Brazil, had collected many ancestors’ names, which were all in paper documents as there were no computers then. He was afraid that one of his 16 children would damage or lose those precious records, so he decided to keep them in his branch presidency’s office at the local chapel. But one day that meetinghouse was caught on fire and he lost all his family history. Years of work vanished in minutes! He and his family were deeply saddened but felt impressed to visit his relatives in Argentina in an attempt to recover some of the lost information. During those visits he was describing what happened and one of his uncles (who was not a member of the Church) asked to be excused for a moment and then came right back from another room with a stack of papers full of names, dates, and documents concerning all those that had been lost in the fire. For years, he said, “I felt compelled to keep this information without knowing why, but now it all makes sense. You can have all this!!”
Not only were all the names recovered but also many new ones were added. This event has caused all in the family to clearly discern that there was direct guidance from the Holy Ghost and that God knows the end from the beginning!

I am a missionary, and I didn’t gain my own testimony until I was four months into my mission. I know what you are going through, and it isn’t easy. I wish, however, that I, like you, had had enough courage to ask someone. I would have been better prepared for my mission.
It’s not wrong to feel the way you do. Asking the question shows that you are willing to do what it takes to gain a testimony.
I like to liken a testimony to a seed. Most of us who were raised in the Church begin by relying on the testimonies of our parents, which is really not bad. We figure that since they know what they are talking about, then it must be true. So here the seed is planted.
How do you help a seed to grow? By nourishing it with the proper food. So it is with a testimony. If you want a testimony of the Church, then go to the keystone of our religion, the Book of Mormon. Read it. I don’t mean for you to sit down and in one big swoop read the whole thing. Try this method instead. It worked for me and many of my investigators.
Pick a topic—say faith, for example.
Read each verse in the scriptures that refers to faith. Read the chapter in which that verse is located. This will give you an idea of what was happening at the time.
Once you finish this, go back and just read the verse, but this time apply it to you.
4. Now do what Moroni said to do in Moroni 10:3–5 [Moro. 10:3–5]. Pray about it. I promise you that Heavenly Father will answer you through the Spirit.
I wish I had done this before my mission. All I did was read straight through, and I didn’t gain much from it. Then when I came on my mission I relied on my companions’ testimonies, which didn’t do me any good, so I decided I’d better get my own.
I nourished the seed that was planted inside my heart, and I continue to nourish it by reading, studying, pondering, and praying about it so that I might have a better understanding of what is being said. Just like a seed, if a testimony is not nourished it will die. As you nourish the seed it will swell within you. Let it happen. Then you can honestly say you are bearing your own testimony. I hope this works for you.
Elder John Hodge, 21England London South Mission

Hiking out of the Grand Canyon is no easy task. The trail is steep. The sun is hot. When you stop to rest, squirrels steal your candy bars. There must be a dozen different kinds of plants with stickers, and they all seem to be waiting just for your feet.
The only water on the way is in your canteen. It is warm and stale and tastes of halazone.
Granted, the scenery is spectacular. But after five days you’re starting to think you’ve seen it all. It’s at least four hours and a 4,800-foot climb to the top. What you want to do is get back to the car and head home, stopping at the first hamburger stand along the way for a nice, cold milkshake.
Why in the world, then, would you take any longer to hike out than you have to? And why in the world would you be carrying 50 pounds of extra gear?
If you were Willie Holdman, a 16-year-old priest in the 75th Ward, Orem Utah Windsor Stake, you’d know the answers to those questions.
Willie’s father, Floyd, is a professional photographer. The 50 pounds of extra gear is camera equipment. And the hike takes half again as long as normal because every time there’s a possibility of a good picture, the hiking stops.
Willie, who wants someday to be a professional photographer himself, has traveled with his father on assignments in Utah, Arizona, Wyoming, Washington, Florida, and the Caribbean. But he remembers vividly that long walk up from the depths of one of Earth’s deepest canyons.
“People just don’t realize how much work goes into taking pictures,” Willie said. “We got up before dawn—and it’s hard to get up early when you’ve done it all week and you’d rather stay in the sleeping bag for two more hours. We waited for the morning light to be just right. While other hikers were starting out early to take advantage of the cool morning temperatures, we spent an hour taking photos before we even thought of breaking camp. And then we couldn’t just throw things in our backpacks. We had to be careful to protect the film and cameras from heat and dust.
“Then, when we finally got on the trail, we’d just get moving and Dad would say, ‘Wait, we need to take a picture here.’ Sometimes you’d be ready to forget the whole thing.
“But,” Willie said, “when you get home and you see the pictures, it makes you glad you did it.”
That’s just one of many lessons Willie has learned from working with his dad: to work hard, even when you don’t want to work, because you know the reward comes later on.

There have been hiccups—an October 2023 rainstorm washed dirt and debris from farmland through a back door and into the building, necessitating the temporary removal of the school to the local M?ori marae (community building) while the mud was cleaned up and the carpets were replaced. But McFarlane says the kids have proven very resilient and were anxious to come back to this building.
“What are the odds of having to pack up twice?” McFarlane said with a laugh. “The marae welcomed us in, and Maui (Aben, the president of the Gisborne New Zealand Stake) arrived that afternoon with the facilities maintenance people, and we got everything in motion to take care of that issue really fast,” McFarlane said.
But five weeks later, when school began again, they were still missing a key component of all elementary schools—a playground area. While there was plenty of grass around the Nuhaka Ward meetinghouse, there were not many shady trees and nothing to climb.
Enter Pacific Assist Foundation. As detailed last September, Pacific Assist Director Callum Blair was able to obtain some stored equipment from Torbay School in Auckland.
After a few months tying down some loose ends, it was shipped to Nuhaka and installed, along with some overhead shade provided by the Church, with the assistance of local missionaries in February.
Elder Nathan Woods, of Garden City, Utah, USA, and Elder Jacob Hughes of Branson, Missouri, USA assisted in the installation of the playground, along with Blair and other members of his Pacific Assist Team. Elder Woods said he and Elder Hughes were delighted to be of assistance.
“As missionaries, we cherish opportunities to serve others,” Woods said. “When you help others, it helps you remember the times that people have helped you, and you remember how it feels and how much those people mean to you.”
Elder Hughes agreed, noting that the opportunity to serve is an opportunity to grow as a person and to appreciate others even more. “It’s amazing to know that when we serve those around us, God remembers that effort.”
He continued, “I think when I get to help someone in a way that brings them joy, it gives me a glimpse of the love He has for them. It was an awesome experience to see how excited everyone was who helped with this.
“They just knew how much joy it would bring to these children who had gone through so much.”
And the kids really appreciated the effort expended to make it possible for them. “They were so excited when it was finally ready for them,” McFarlane said. “We couldn’t keep them focused on their work, so we finally just told them to go try it out!”
Meanwhile, the old primary school is being removed and a new school is being planned for the same site. While McFarlane hopes the new school will be completed and ready to move into in 2025, she says she, her staff and students are so grateful for the gift of the use of the Nuhaka Ward meetinghouse they have now.
“Having to go to the marae last October really reminded us how fortunate we were to be able to hold school in this building,” she reflects. “Everything we need now is here, and we’re able to teach our students all the things they need to grow and thrive.
“It is such a blessing and I’m sure, after we eventually move out into our own new space, that we’ll all look back on our time here with tremendous fondness and gratitude,” McFarlane said. “These kids will remember and talk about this for the rest of their lives.”

Balancing his Church work, his civic service, and his legal work, Howard continued to advance his distinctive career. An example of Howard’s careful, thoughtful approach to problems is the legal case in which he represented a plaintiff in an action to recover damages to a tomato crop caused by the drifting spray of a crop duster on an adjoining ranch. After Howard’s excellent opening presentation before the court, on the second day of trial arguments, the twelve defense attorneys offered a substantial settlement, which his client accepted. His capacity for precise thinking and logic, together with his intuitive feeling for justice, made him a formidable advocate.

President Quintana knows the importance of finding friends at church. The night of his baptism at age 18, his best friend told him he would never visit him again if he joined the Church. Ten minutes before the service began, Guillermo decided to go ahead anyway and left for the meetinghouse. “I lost my dearest friend that night,” he recalls. However, within two weeks he met the woman who later became his wife, and she became the friend who sustained him during his mission.

Buffalo-Child-Long-Lance, a Blackfoot Indian Chief, told of his tribe trailing a band of five hundred horses led by the great stallion for ten days. At dawn on the eleventh day, on a plateau between the Rockies and Cascades, the Indian braves finally drove the herd into a log corral they had built between two sides of a rocky gulch.

After a day of futile attempts to rope the imprisoned stallion and near-fatal injuries to four braves, Indians carrying firebrands forced the horse into a corner against the rocks and partitioned off that part of the corral with a seven-foot fence. When they returned the next morning, they were amazed to find he had cleared the high fence, rammed through the heavy log corral, and vanished.

The Indians believed the wild stallion was supernatural, and after his escape, they called him the Ghost Horse of the Prairies. They claimed they often saw him standing on a butte, his majestic body silhouetted against the moon, his silvery mane and tail shining in the moonlight with a phosphorescent glow—a truly ghostly effect.

My big sister and I were playing outside and we weren’t getting along. We argued, and I felt bad inside. I went into my house and prayed that I would feel better and not be mad at my sister. After my prayer I felt much better. Soon my sister came into the house and asked me what was wrong. I told her that I was OK, and we started to play again. This time we didn’t argue.Emma V., age 7, with help from her parents, Texas

I went to my bishop to make things right, and we met regularly to prepare me to serve a mission. My papers were almost finished when I was prompted to make sure that he understood some of the choices I had made. That conversation wasn’t easy, but even more than I wanted to go on a mission, I wanted to be right before God. I was willing to own what I had done wrong and lay it all out before Him so I could be clean.

Soon after, I came before a disciplinary council. It was scary in some ways to admit what I had done in front of people who had been my leaders and mentors for years, but as I looked around the room, I felt peace. I could see that they were there to understand and help me. As I left, I felt the Spirit assure me that no matter what the decision was, I was doing my part and I was going to be OK. God and leaders who loved me would work with me to get me where I needed to be. I walked away feeling the love of the Savior and knowing that I wasn’t beyond His redemption.

Despite the peace I had felt, it was hard to face the questions from people about why I wasn’t on a mission. As I continued working through the repentance process with the help of my bishop, it became less and less likely that serving a mission was in my future. I had to figure out how to move forward with my life. At 21, because I didn’t fall into the pre-missionary, returned missionary, or married groups of young adults, it was hard to feel like I belonged anywhere.

Dating was tough. Sometimes girls would treat me differently after I would tell them I didn’t serve a mission and that I was inactive for a period of time. For one reason or another, most interactions never made it past the first date.

I was happy that I eventually did get married in the temple, but sometimes I still felt like I didn’t fit in. I had a testimony, but I couldn’t figure out how to share it, and church classrooms felt like tests where my peers would see me fail. I thought that because most of them had the lives I wanted, they hadn’t stumbled as much as I had.

One day the bishop called me in and extended the call to teach elders quorum. I was surprised, since I had only been to elders quorum twice in the last year. Despite feeling incredibly anxious, I accepted the calling. On my first Sunday teaching, I found myself starting out with probably the strangest introduction they had ever heard:
“Hi, brothers, I’m Richard Monson. I never served a mission and I’ve been inactive most of my adult life. I haven’t attended elders quorum pretty much ever because I don’t feel like I belong or fit in. I won’t be able to answer all your questions, but I’m hoping that you will participate so we can learn together. If you’re OK with where I’m coming from, then we’ll get started.”
I realized that day that I could admit to others—and to myself—that even though I didn’t consider myself a “straight arrow” (someone who served a mission, was active all their lives, and hadn’t made serious mistakes), I was pointed in the same direction as they were, and that was what mattered. To my amazement, I found that more than one of these men whom I thought led perfect lives had made mistakes too. I think it reinforced the idea to all of us that perfection isn’t a requirement to bring value to the class or the Church as a whole.
Unfortunately, my activity in the Church didn’t last. My marriage was difficult, and I turned to old vices to escape my pain. Hobbies began to replace church attendance.

Three years passed, and I reached rock bottom. I had to make a choice. Could I live the gospel for myself regardless of what was happening in my life? Or would I just give in to the darkness? I knew that committing to the strait and narrow path meant getting rid of negative influences in my life. Also, my desires to go back to church highlighted that my spouse and I were on different paths. With the state of our marriage at that point, we were headed toward divorce already.

I was scared. There was no guarantee that my efforts would grant me the good things I wanted in this life. But my decision came back to what I had learned years before—that I was happiest living the gospel. I decided to commit fully and put myself in God’s hands, come what may. From here on out, it was me and Him.

Once again, I started going back to church and getting my life on track. One of the happiest days of my life was when I received a temple recommend again. I found solace in the temple as my marriage continued to fracture and ultimately came to an end.

As scary as that decision felt, through that experience I learned to appreciate God’s hand in my path. Even though I had stumbled, the race wasn’t lost. I wasn’t competing with anyone else. When I relied on the Savior for my self-worth, I could stop spending all my efforts trying to change others’ perspective of me.

I found myself at church being OK sitting alone or amidst members who were in different stages of life. I made an effort not to hide and made myself available to talk with people in my ward. I was able to enjoy attending my meetings for their intended purpose.

Having that peace also helped as I got back into dating. I still didn’t get a lot of second dates, but I now knew I didn’t have to compromise my standards just because I had slipped up in the past. I was living the gospel to the best of my ability, and I was good enough to date those who were living the gospel to the best of theirs too.

I ultimately found a worthy daughter of God who I married in the temple. Her path was very different than mine, but when it came to a love of the Savior and an understanding of His Atonement, we were on the same page.

Over the years, I have learned not to let my past or other people’s approval define my current self-worth. I’ve let go of the idea that success looks like one set of life experiences. Not everyone has appreciated where I am now because of how I’ve gotten here, and that’s OK. It’s not my goal to convince them. It is my goal to keep repenting and coming closer to the Savior. It’s because of Him that, like Alma the Younger after his repentance, I can be “harrowed up by the memory of my sins no more” (Alma 36:19). I can be at peace knowing that it’s where I’m headed—toward the Savior—that counts.

President Boyd K. Packer has counseled us to have a hymn memorized so that when an inappropriate thought comes into our minds, we can replace it with a hymn. In applying this instruction, a friend of mine explained: “One day I left my office for lunch. After I had walked for about two blocks, I noticed that I had been humming ‘my song’: ‘I Am a Child of God.’ As I chained my thoughts back several hundred yards, I realized that as I had crossed the street from my office, a young woman, inappropriately clothed, had crossed in front of me. Immediately, subconsciously, the words and music of ‘I Am a Child of God’ began to roll through my mind—to displace inappropriate thoughts.” That day my friend learned a great lesson about his ability to control his thoughts.

In Bodø, a city far to the north, Church members have gathered for a district conference. The few teenagers present tell what it’s like living above the Arctic Circle, often as the only LDS youth in their towns.

Håvard Lunde, 15, and his brother Erlend, 13, live in Alta, almost as far north as you can go in Norway. There is no chapel in Alta; the eight Latter-day Saints take turns meeting in each other’s homes.
“The Church seems normal to us, because we were born in it,” Håvard says. “But in Alta, like in most of Norway, young people don’t believe in much of anything. Our friends don’t shun us, but they wonder why we make such a big thing about religion.”
“We just try to set an example,” Erlend says.
And they wait for times like district conference, when their spiritual strength is renewed.

Last year was different for me with ballet because I struggled with some medical challenges. It was really dangerous for me to be dancing because my heart was weak. I needed to rest and recover.
That time was very discouraging. Not only could I not dance, but I was advised to stay away from any physical movement in general, including stretching, strength training, or even walking more than was absolutely necessary. As a dancer, taking a break seemed impossible. Even if I take a break for one week, I return feeling really tight. I couldn’t imagine taking more than a month off.
I was hopeful I would be back to dancing when the new school year came around in the fall. But when it came, I was still healing. In September, after praying a lot, I made the very scary decision to go to a clinic to help with my health.
I also started attending seminary. It was a great way to start my day, immersed in the gospel. I had never had good scripture study habits. Having that hour set aside each day to just dive into the scriptures helped me build a much stronger relationship with God.
Before my medical challenges, I had spent so much time dancing that a lot of my identity was wrapped up in it. Not having it to fall back on during this hard time left me feeling lost and like a piece of me was missing. But I noticed the more I went to seminary, read my scriptures, and surrounded myself with other youth doing the same, the more I started to strengthen my identity as a child of God. After feeling lost for so long, this really helped me find hope and meaning.
One concept that continued to come up during my seminary class helped me a lot. This concept was how Christ strengthens us during our trials. Each class, my seminary teacher encouraged us to write sticky notes about something that “stuck with us.” Looking back, all of my sticky notes focused on Christ being there for me and blessing me in my trials. It felt like I was receiving a daily reminder that Christ was there to help me.
After six long months, I was finally medically cleared to return to dance. At first, I was really nervous because I felt like I had lost all my strength. I kept working, praying, going to church, and hoping that if I tried my best, the Savior would help me. When I returned, although I wasn’t as strong as I used to be, my teacher complimented my strength. She said she was proud of me and my progress.
Even though I struggled a lot, I am thankful my medical challenges gave me the chance to strengthen my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and find my identity as a child of God.
To anyone going through something hard, know that you always have people around you supporting you, whether or not you can see them. You are a child of God. Even though we can’t see Jesus Christ or Heavenly Father, They are watching over us and protecting us. Heavenly Father has a plan for us. Sometimes you might not experience what you want, but your trials can help you get stronger.
I have a testimony that if we pray and establish a relationship with God, He’ll be there to guide us, help us, and strengthen us.
Ellie J., age 15, Oregon, USA
Loves ballet, hanging out with family and friends, and doing service.

About a year ago, some friends of our family were hospitalized in very serious condition. Rosana and Angel Blanco Rodrigues and two of their children were in their kitchen when they smelled gas. Brother Rodrigues went to investigate. When he touched a gas hose, a small leak exploded, igniting a fire. Seeing his two small children in danger, Brother Rodrigues used his own body to extinguish the flames. He was the most critically injured of the four.
When Mama told our family about the accident, she told us of the love she and Papa felt for their dear friends. She explained that because we live far away, we could not help Brother and Sister Rodrigues by taking care of their other children, their house, or their business matters. But there was a special way we could help them, she said. We could have a family fast and pray that the Lord would bless the Rodrigues family. All of us, even we younger ones, could participate. Our parents had always fasted on the first Sunday of the month and on other occasions, but we had never fasted as a family before. We decided to try it.
We began Saturday at lunchtime. We all fasted—Papa and Mama; Dougles (13), Francini (11), Debora (7), and me (9). We said a prayer and asked the Lord to bless our friends. Mama put a reminder—“Our First Family Fast”—on the refrigerator, the water faucet, the microwave, and the kitchen wall so that we would remember not to eat or drink anything.
I did not feel thirsty during those hours, even with the intense heat here in Amazonas, Brazil. I didn’t feel hungry, either. I was able to understand a little how Jesus Christ might have felt when He fasted for forty days. I felt how good it is to do something to help others.
On Sunday, Papa gave each of us an envelope for our fast offerings and helped us fill out the form. At church that day, we gave the money to our branch president. We ended our fast at lunchtime.
The Rodrigues family eventually returned home with some injuries. As we and many other friends continued to fast and pray for their recovery, the Lord continued to bless them. After several months of care, they were completely healed and were left almost without scars.
Each month since our first family fast, we have fasted and prayed for a united purpose.
I am grateful to be a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and to learn about Jesus Christ and how much He did for me. I want to follow His example always.

Soon my 12th birthday came. I was ordained a deacon. Around this time, my family moved to Madison, Wisconsin, USA. I missed my friends but wanted to make new ones. Madison was much bigger than Manti. My new school was large. There weren’t many members of the Church. One day some popular kids invited me to a party. But the party was on the same night as a Church activity. I had learned from my experience in Primary that good things happen when I am faithful in attending my Church meetings. So I thanked them for inviting me and explained why I couldn’t come.
I am glad I went to the Church activity. The next day, everyone at school was talking about the party. Some kids had been drinking alcohol, they had damaged some furniture, and everyone who went got in a lot of trouble! I was so grateful that I had been where I needed to be.

Some time ago I was participating on a basketball team that usually played games on Saturdays. When we played on Sunday, however, I would not attend, and my teammates would make fun of this. When they asked me why I didn’t play on Sundays, I responded, “I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and I am taught to make the Sabbath sacred and not play sports. I follow the principles of the gospel because I know that God wants the best for us.” After that, my teammates respected my beliefs and stopped making fun of me.
Nicolás B., age 19, Córdoba, Argentina