Gospel Story Finder

I grew up in a large family, and I always believed that motherhood would be my greatest contribution to building the Lord’s kingdom. However, my husband and I recently learned that our chances of adding children to our family in this life are small. Our infertility journey has been excruciatingly painful, but the uncertainty of treatments and the emotional load of making difficult decisions have been especially soul crushing. At times I have wondered, What will my influence and role be if I can’t be a mother in the way I had planned?
During this journey, I’ve been grateful for other faithful women in my life whose experiences have also turned out differently than they had planned. And through their examples, Heavenly Father’s message to me has been this: “Don’t wait. Don’t second-guess if you could or should have done more or chosen differently. Be where you are now. Take opportunities to love and serve those around you.”

WYNN: If she really wants to join the Church, the Lord will help prepare a way. One of my best friends was a nonmember. At first his dad wouldn’t even listen to him talk about the gospel. He wanted to be baptized, and we told him to pray about it and keep his spirits up, and the Lord would find a way. It was interesting to see how his dad changed his attitude toward the Church when he was given a little time to think about it. In about a year my friend was baptized. Just a year before, his dad had said, “There’s no way you are going to be baptized!”

Do you want to do better in school? How would you like to ace your college entrance exams? Well, then work on your sense of humor and on having fun. That’s what Michael Haycock, a priest in the Lima Ward, Toledo Ohio Stake, says. And Michael knows something about taking tests and doing well in school. As a sophomore in 2004, Michael aced both standardized college entrance exams; he scored a perfect 36 on the ACT and a 1570 on the SAT (just 30 points away from a perfect 1600). He ranks at the top of his class with a 4.17 grade point average. He also says to “Learn to love to learn.”
“With a zany sense of humor, you can have fun with everything from verbs to imaginary numbers,” says Michael. That’s easy for him to say. Maybe it’s just because he’s so smart that things come so easily. After all, he is one of only two sophomores in the entire nation to get a 36 on the ACT out of about 218,000 students. He is the final winner of the Ohio University–sponsored U.S. history contest, in which he competed with 7,400 other entrants for a full-tuition, four-year scholarship. He is the star on the high school quiz bowl team. And he still makes it to early-morning seminary every day.
That’s why it’s so surprising to hear this bit of advice from Michael: “Don’t feel you’re a failure due to others’ successes. I feel this quite a bit. It’s a weakness of mine.” Michael explains that when he hears about the latest 12-year-old neurosurgeon, or the college-attending 13-year-old Nobel Peace Prize nominee, he thinks he should have done just a little more or a little better. “Everyone can do at least one thing another cannot,” Michael adds. “Every child of God is truly unique.”
So what makes Michael Haycock unique? There are lots of things. He certainly doesn’t fit the standard mold of the “brainiac.” When asked if others ever bother him for being a good student, Michael says that has happened on occasion, “but that’s only been at the beginning. When they get to know me they stop.” He plays the trombone in the marching band and the symphonic band. He sings in the school choir and even auditioned for and made it into the all-state choir. He runs cross-country. “My best time for the 5K is 20 minutes, 10 seconds,” Michael says, “which is not spectacular, but it’s not bad either.” This year he improved his time; it’s now 19 minutes, 32 seconds. But what really makes Michael stand out among his peers is that he’s a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“We have more LDS students in our school than in any other school in the county.” That number translates into nine members of the Church in his high school. Michael says he doesn’t get a chance to interact with them much outside of early-morning seminary, because they don’t have classes together. In fact, even at church, Michael is in a quorum of only four boys, and each of them lives in a different school district. “I can’t say if it’s hard or easy, because I don’t have anything to compare it to,” Michael says.
So Michael’s group of friends is quite diverse. “We have a Baptist, a Lutheran, a Methodist, and Catholics,” he says. What brings them together is years of friendship and similar interests. They all like learning and science fiction and fantasy. Having many friends of other faiths gives Michael a chance to let them know about his beliefs. “We sometimes have religious discussions—pretty much compare beliefs. I’ve gone to my friend’s church recently for Palm Sunday, and she came to general conference with me.”
When he has the chance, Michael likes to get together with other LDS youth. Like when he sang in the choir for the dedication of Church history sites in historic Kirtland. He talks warmly about the three- to four-hour drives to Kirtland for practices. But he remembers most the wonderful experience of the dedication and the fireside the night before where he saw President Gordon B. Hinckley and other General Authorities speak.
“We see these people in general conference. But this was live. And at the end of the dedication everyone got up and spontaneously sang ‘We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet,’” Michael remembers (Hymns, no. 19). “It was surreal almost. It was an amazing feeling throughout the whole dedication. It was neat.”
Living close to some of the Church history sites has helped Michael’s testimony grow stronger. He’s gained respect and admiration for what the early Saints accomplished. He’s had the chance to attend four temple dedications. And he’s come to feel a connection with the Prophet Joseph Smith. “One thing I know is that the Book of Mormon is true,” says Michael. “I’m reading it through my second time. There’s just no way one person could have put down all the wisdom on paper that is in those pages. There’s no way.”
What does the future hold for Michael Haycock? Service. “I’m preparing for college the best I can by taking AP [advanced placement] classes,” says Michael. “After that I’m going to head off to college for a year and then go on a mission. I’ll come back and finish up school.” He says he’s pretty sure he’ll pursue more degrees than just a bachelor’s. Michael has thought about becoming a Spanish professor, but right now he is planning on going into political science, with the hopes of getting into politics. He wants to make a difference in the world.
Michael doesn’t see himself as smarter than everyone else. But sometimes that’s how others look at him. “They see the stereotype of the smart kid, but I try to break that stereotype,” says Michael. And he’s done it. Michael Haycock is not just another smart kid; he’s a smart kid with a strong testimony of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.
Here are 10 tips Michael says he uses to do his best when studying, preparing for, and taking a test.
Attend class every day and pay attention.
Have a good sense of humor so you can have fun learning.
Develop a good relationship with your teachers.
Do all your assignments, and do them on time.
Ask questions about things you don’t understand.
Review your study material with friends.
Do all review assignments.
Define your own academic identity: don’t let yourself be labeled.
Check your answers on quizzes and tests at least once—twice if you have time.
Learn to love to learn.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Larissa yelled to her classmate Eric. She jumped off her bike and raced for the door. Bursting inside, she threw her arms around Mom and blurted, “Eric says I’m not really yours. He says that all of you are white and I’m black, and that we aren’t a real family because we don’t match.” She shoved her arm next to Mom’s to compare. “See!”
Mom hugged Larissa tight. “Maybe Eric doesn’t understand what makes a real family.”
Just then Dad walked in. “What’s wrong? Did you hurt your arm?”
Larissa sobbed. “No! I don’t match you guys, so Eric says we aren’t a real family.”
“Hmm.” Dad held his arm next to Larissa’s. “I guess Eric doesn’t know what makes a real family.”
“That’s what Mom said.” Larissa jerked her arm away. “But maybe he does know. He looks like his family. He says families are supposed to match.”
Allie squeezed through the door, trying to keep the wind and dry leaves outside. “What’s supposed to match?” she asked.
“We are,” Larissa said. “Eric says so, and he should know because his whole family matches.”
“Well, he doesn’t know what makes a real family then,” Allie said.
The door flew open and the wind blew leaves and the twins in together. “Why is Larissa crying?” they asked.
Larissa wailed. “See! Jeremy and Zack match. They look alike, they dress alike, and they even say the same thing at the same time. I don’t match any of you!”
“What?” Jeremy and Zack asked.
“It seems that Eric thinks Larissa doesn’t belong with us because she doesn’t look like any of us,” Dad said.
“Well,” Zack began, “Eric must not know what makes a—”
“It’s true,” Allie interrupted. “We don’t look alike, but there are lots more important qualities for a family to share. We love each other and we help each other. Each of us is special to the other. Isn’t that more important than looking alike?”
“That gives me an idea,” Mom said. “Come to the computer.”
Opening the family history album, Mom pointed to a name on a pedigree chart. “My grandmother, Eleanor Edmonds,” she said. “Let’s see what we can find.” She quickly entered the name “Eleanor Edmonds,” the word “Ohio,” and the year “1882” into the computer.
“Larissa,” Mom said, “please click on ‘search.’”
The computer clicked and whirred and finally, after a few seconds, a box appeared on the screen that read, “NO MATCH FOUND.”
“That’s not right!” Allie said. “Eleanor is your grandmother. How can the computer say there’s no match?”
“What would the computer use to match families together?” Mom asked.
“Names!” the twins said.
“Dates and places,” Dad added.
“Then why did it say no match found?” Allie asked.
“The computer has to have all the right information to match her to us. I entered Ohio as Eleanor’s birthplace. Actually, she was born in Nebraska. Because the computer had the wrong information, it couldn’t make a match. But no matter what the computer says, I have all the information I need to know that Eleanor is my grandmother.”
“Oh, I get it,” Larissa said slowly. “Eric doesn’t think I belong in this family because he doesn’t have the right information.”
“That’s right,” Mom said. “He does not know that Heavenly Father wanted you to be with us and made sure we could adopt you and be sealed as a family in the temple.”
“We match because of more important things than our hair and our eyes and our skin,” Dad said. “We are a family because we followed God’s plan for us.” He held up the family history album and pointed to a photo. “This is Eleanor Edmonds, Mom’s grandmother.”
“Wow!” the twins said.
“She doesn’t look anything like you, Mom,” Larissa said. “Your hair is straight, your skin is dark, and your eyes are brown. Her hair is curly, her skin is fair, and her eyes are light.”
“That’s right, honey. When I was growing up she lived next door. I learned that she and I are a lot alike in ways that are far more important than looking alike.”
“Poor Eric,” Larissa said. “He doesn’t know that looking alike doesn’t even matter.”
“And the best part is that we can be a family forever, no matter what we look like,” Dad said.
“Cool!” the twins shouted.
Larissa smiled. “We’re a perfect match!”

As a young missionary serving in the Chile Concepción Mission, Sean Douglas began his service in the rural backcountry. His “wonderful first Chilean companion and trainer spoke Spanish at lighting speed.” After three months in the South American country, Elder Douglas still struggled with Spanish.
Discouragement and homesickness plunged him into doubt and drove him to his knees. “I am not doing any good,” he prayed. “I do not seem to be impacting anyone.”
His heart filled with a burning question from above: “Are you here for Me, or are you here for you?”
At this moment he resolved with God to forget himself and keep trying. “That very night I dreamt in Spanish,” he said.
The following day everything was easier. “I could speak a little better. I could understand a little more,” he said. “The mission catalyzed my testimony of the power of prayer and that when you go and do what the Lord commands, He always provides a way for you.”
That philosophy has guided the rest of his life.

Ten-year-old Alexandra and her family are grateful that the missionaries were able to come to their country. Several years ago the missionaries knocked on their door, and her grandmother invited them in. Because of that contact, Alexandra, her parents (Rosa and Arnaldo), and her brother (Victor), as well as her grandmother joined the Church. When Alexandra attended a Latter-day Saint meeting for the first time, she felt more comfortable there than she had at any other church. Later, when she was baptized, she knew that it was the right thing to do. Alexandra knew that she could gain exaltation and return someday to Heavenly Father and Jesus.

Miriam Criscuolo from Italy found that, even after establishing a meaningful friendship with a neighbor, she still didn’t know how to talk about the gospel. “We spent a lot of time together, but the courage to speak to my new friend about the gospel, even though I knew it was my duty, escaped me,” she shares.

But when the gospel came up naturally, things started to happen. Miriam remembers, “It was my daughter who, when showing a Primary project, aroused the curiosity of my friend. ‘What’s Primary?’ she asked. From that question were born a hundred others. I learned that my friend had been looking for something for years. I told her that the peace of mind she was looking for would be found in our Church.

“She later joined the Church. She was an answer to my prayers about how to find a way to do missionary work and to show my children how it can be done.”

But before the end of the year, Alyce’s brother Pete was killed in an automobile accident. Such news travels fast. The seat next to mine in algebra was empty for a whole week, and my heart went out to Alyce. I wanted to write her a note, but I didn’t know what to say. Anyway, I figured Alyce didn’t want to hear from me. The following Monday when Alyce still wasn’t back in school, however, I decided to send her a card. I stopped in Gilbert’s drugs after school and looked for an appropriate sympathy card. Finally I picked out the one I liked best and took it home. I started putting it in the envelope, but before I sealed it, I took the card back out and wrote a few words on it that I thought might be comforting. I knew Alyce had been close to Pete. She had talked about him a few times. Once she had said, “Pete’s not like me. He doesn’t clown around as much. He has a dry sense of humor like you.” Whenever she talked about Pete, I could sense a pride in her voice, a special lilt.
I decided to mail the card that night before I changed my mind. The least I could do was tell her I was sorry and try to comfort her in some small way. Even if she wasn’t too keen on our friendship anymore, it could possibly still help.
That Friday Alyce was back in her seat next to me in algebra. “How are you doing?” I asked quietly as I touched her arm. She looked drained and thinner.
“Okay, I guess. Thanks for the note.” The next minute some of her friends came in, and she called to them and said something funny. They laughed, relieved to have old Alyce back. She looked down at her desk and then over at me again. “Could I talk to you sometime, like maybe after school?”
“Sure.” I wondered what she wanted to talk about.
“I’ll meet you by the oak.”
“Okay.”
She was there after the bell, and we began silently walking to nowhere in particular. “Do you care if we sit down on the grass a minute?” Alyce asked.
“Of course not.”
She didn’t talk but lowered her head; I couldn’t see her face, but then a tear dripped down to the grass. I handed her my hanky. “Let’s go. I don’t want anyone to see me. I wasn’t going to do this.”
We walked around the school until we found an area that was semi-secluded near the bleachers. She had stopped crying and she took my hand. “You know, you’re one of the few people who has treated me like I’m more than just funny. It’s hard to be funny all the time. There’s a lot of pressure.” She began laughing. “Tha’t it?”
“I think I understand,” I said.
“Like right now. I don’t feel much like being funny, but nobody knows how to react to an unfunny Alyce, so I have to joke around.” Her lips began to tremble.
“Go ahead and cry if you need to, Alyce,” I said.
She cried then, and I put my arm around her shoulders and felt helpless as her back jerked with each heavy sob. “I’m sorry,” I kept saying. “I’m sorry.”
“I feel so foolish,” she said.
“No, it’s okay. Don’t feel that way.”
Finally, she got control of herself and bit her lower lip. “I’m not going to cry anymore now.” She swallowed hard and tried to smile. “I suppose you’re wondering why I called this little meeting,” she joked. Then she was serious again. “It’s about something you said on your card, Bill. I memorized it. You said, ‘I have strong faith that Pete still lives.’” She bit her lip again. “I’ve got to know more about that.” She was whispering in spurts. “My family has never been very religious, and I’ve got to know where he is right now.” She was losing control again, and she paused for a moment. “If you believe it, I can believe it too.” She tried to laugh. “Because you’re the most honest person I’ve ever met!” Again she paused and was serious. “And, and I know I can trust you, Bill.”
“I’m glad,” I said softly but emphatically. “Because what I said is true.” This time I sniffed. “Yes, I’d like to tell you more, Alyce.” Now I felt my eyes beginning to well, and now I was the one who felt foolish. “Could I borrow my hanky back for a minute,” I said as ruggedly as possible. “I think I might need it before this little meeting is over.”

“Our family home was on the foothill of a solitary mountain that was a moving force all of my young life. I could see it from my bedroom window and felt a certain security in its closeness. I had climbed its bald dome with my family, with Church groups, and with a gang of kids. Then one day—driven by desire to go to the mount, like Moses, to commune with God, to consider who I was and what I was going to do about it—I set out alone to climb that peak. I was 16, and this day my aloneness on that mountain was exhilarating. It was a most spectacular spring morning at sunrise when I made my way to the top.

“With fascination I sat looking down at the houses I knew so well and at their people beginning to stir with the sun. I watched the achingly familiar scenes as an extension of myself. I followed the paths of my life from home to a friend’s house, to the church on the corner and the school down the hill and to the neighborhood store. Finally, I let myself look upon our own house, the scene of my most tender times, my most important learnings. Almost in panic and with a wrench of my heart, I felt childhood slipping from my grasp.

“Everywhere I looked was someone who had touched my life. At 16 I was the sum of them—parents, school friends, storekeeper, Church leader. My heart flooded with a new awareness. Suddenly I realized I had some debts to pay. I vowed that I would try to be useful. I knew I needed the help of God, and when I turned to him, my soul filled with an awareness that he lives, that he cares even about a little person sitting on a mountain thinking she can make a difference in the world. When I came down off the mountain the world seemed beautiful, and I was glad to be alive.”

You never know how it’s going to start.
At a school party in Melbourne a few years ago, Emily Denning walked up to Lisa Bignell and said something shocking.
For Brett Allen and Ben Marwick of Perth, it started with simple friendship, but it really got going the night they spent several hours riding their bikes in circles.
Down in Hobart, Tasmania, Selena Meure invited Sally Vellar to Sunday dinner and, in Sally’s words, “It was horrible. I have to be honest. It was terrible.”
Why was Lisa shocked? Well, the two girls had never been more than just acquaintances, classmates. So you could have knocked Lisa over with a feather when Emily walked up to her and said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about this for a while. I want to know more about your church. I want to become a Mormon.”
Lisa says, “I sort of jumped because it was really unexpected. I guess I never thought she’d be interested.”
It turns out that Emily had known for several years that Lisa was LDS. It also happened that Emily had been searching for the right church for about six years. “I was trying to find the truth, something that sounded right to me, not what other people thought I should believe. I wanted to find out for myself,” she says.
Emily visited a number of different churches, but none of them “clicked” as she puts it. In the meantime, Lisa’s family was participating in their ward’s “set-a-date” program (where members are encouraged to set a target date for having someone prepared to receive the missionaries). “We had been praying for a couple of weeks, when Emily came up to me. Because we never really hung around at school together, we didn’t know each other a whole lot. I was shocked, but then I thought immediately, This is an opportunity. I’d better take it.”
So Lisa invited Emily to a fireside where they were showing the film “How Rare a Possession.” Emily says, “I figured, well, there’s only one way to find out if this is right or not. I felt even before I came to church that I was going to join. It was just a feeling I had. When I walked into the chapel, everything just fell into place. I had this really good feeling.”
That good feeling was just reinforced as Emily continued to attend church and firesides and took the missionary lessons. Her only regrets since her baptism? Emily looks at little children in church and sometimes envies them, “growing up in church, with Primary and seminary, Young Women and all the rest of it.” She wishes she had been a member all her life. She knows how she’ll raise her own children someday.
You can see why Brett and Ben became friends in the first place. Both quick-witted. Articulate. Fond of taking a subject apart and looking at it from all angles, arguing opposite sides just for the sheer pleasure of it.
You can also see how their first gospel discussions must have been frustrating for both. Ben, the nonmember, his mind racing ahead, full of detailed questions. Brett, the member, wanting to keep things simple at first, focusing on testimony.
It all started with friendship, when Brett moved and started attending the same school as Ben. As Ben tells it: “We became pretty good friends, and occasionally I used to call him up in the morning—in the first term this was—and he was never there. His dad would say, ‘He’s in seminary.’”
Ben knew a seminary was where people studied religion, and that aroused his curiosity a little more. He and Brett had already been having those frustrating religious discussions, including the infamous evening when they were riding their bikes home from school and started talking about the Church. “I just rode around in circles with him for several hours, talking,” Ben recalls. “When you get involved in that kind of thing, you don’t notice what the time is. So of course we drove to our respective homes and got blasted for the lateness of the hour.”
Later, during the holidays, Ben was at Brett’s house with a couple of Brett’s LDS friends, who were there studying to finish off the seminary term. That’s when they invited Ben to join them at seminary. “I thought I might as well see what it was all about,” Ben says simply. So he started attending early-morning seminary, riding his bike to Brett’s house, where the class was held. The subject was Old Testament. Ben took to it like a frog to flies, completed the rest of the seminary year, and even received a certificate.
In fact, Ben didn’t just enjoy seminary. As Brett puts it, “He stole the show. All of us sort of viewed seminary as something that you needed to do if you wanted your parents to let you live. But Ben thrived on it.”
Once Ben started attending seminary, it wasn’t long before he, his sister, Josie, and his mother, Eleanor, were receiving the missionary discussions. They had the usual struggles and challenges, but all three were eventually baptized, and now Ben is thinking about his own future mission. He’s also continuing those gospel discussions with Brett, but from a very different perspective.
Dinner was a disaster, and it had nothing to do with the food. In fact, when Selena and Sally talk (and laugh) about that time, the food itself is never mentioned.
It started when Selena swallowed her fear and decided to participate in her ward’s set-a-date program. Lacking the nerve to ask the Lord for something more specific, Selena prayed that she would be presented with a situation that would show her who was the right person for her to try to fellowship. What she did next was brave. Selena set a date for the missionaries to come to dinner at her house, a dinner where she would have her unknown investigator present.
As the date approached, Selena was talking about it with a new friend, a convert of about two years named Stephen. He offered to bring his nonmember sister, Sally. “I thought, there’s my answer,” Selena says. So they went to see Sally.
Now, Selena claims she told Sally the missionaries would be there. Sally doesn’t remember that part. She simply recalls that her brother showed up with a girl she barely knew from school, and that girl invited her to Sunday dinner. Great. That’s a nice, friendly thing to do. In fact, the invitation was extended to another friend of Sally’s, too.
But Sunday arrived and the friend didn’t show. So Sally went to what she thought would be a quiet dinner with a few new friends. And that’s when the disaster struck. There was Sally, casually dressed in jeans, walking into a house full of Mormons still dressed in their Sunday clothes. In addition to Selena’s family, there were four missionaries (two of them had sort of invited themselves at the last minute). “I just sort of went, ‘Aaaagh!’” Sally recalls.
After dinner, the missionaries tried to give a presentation on the Savior, but the light was bad, and Sally was so uncomfortable she could hardly concentrate. Afterward, the missionaries asked her if she would like to take the discussions, but she was still feeling kind of numb and put them off with excuses about schoolwork.
That night, though, as she sorted out her thoughts, Sally decided, “Maybe I should just find out about it.” So she agreed to the discussions. And that’s all it took. “After the first discussion I just thought, Man, this is excellent. I love it. I have to know more.” She had the first four discussions in one week.
Sally encountered tremendous opposition from some of her friends at school, people who told her that if she joined the Mormons, they would have nothing to do with her. But the Spirit had born witness. And when she got discouraged, the elders gave her blessings.
It was August, the middle of the Australian winter, when Sally (at her request) was baptized in the ocean. Afterward, everyone got cold, wet hugs. Her brother Stephen confirmed her. Not bad for something that began as a disaster.
Actually, the missionary work never ends. Emily wants to be married in the temple and raise her children in the Church. Ben plans to go on a mission. At last report Sally was working to introduce a friend to the gospel. But first it has to begin. And it begins with friendship. It begins with letting your membership and your values be known. And it begins with faith that if you do your part, the Lord will do his.

Rita Jeppeson and her visiting teacher have become good friends as they meet and share gospel conversations. But their visits also include playing word games together, which helps Rita’s aging mind stay sharp. Because her visiting teacher has learned what Rita needs and enjoys, they both look forward to each visit. Rita knows that they are friends and that the visit is not just an obligation. There are so many things sisters can do during a visit, such as taking a walk together or helping a sister with her chores.

The International Musical Eisteddfod is an annual event held in the North Wales town of Llangollen and performers come from around the world. The organisers invited the North Wales Interfaith group to present an “Interfaith Experience” on 3 July at this year’s event.
I serve on the Chester England Stake High Council and have been involved with the interfaith group for several years. We have representatives from many organisations, including various Christian groups, Hindus, Muslims, Pagans, Quakers, Jews, Sikhs, Baha’i, Humanists, and others. We were excited to get the invitation and collaborated to create and refine a programme, which was held in the main auditorium and strictly limited to 30 minutes.
We were presented on stage in groups, with a musical background and then performed a “coming together” exercise demonstrating unity. This was followed by a series of 1-minute talks by ten participants, including myself and Kate McColgan, the Chair of the Interfaith Council for Wales and also a church member. Topics included the importance of interfaith relations, unity, the need for peace, and things that inspire us individually.
I spoke about the need to avoid prejudice of any kind against God’s children and quoted some of President Nelson’s comments from his social post in 2020, including the statement: “The Creator of us all calls on each of us to abandon attitudes of prejudice against any group of God’s children. Any of us who has prejudice toward another race needs to repent!”
There followed a “meditation” experience to the sound of gongs, followed by a series of peace quotes on-screen. We then as a group lifted a banner saying, “We Have More in Common”, as a quote was displayed on screen from Jo Cox, the Humanist MP who died tragically in 2016: “We are far more united and have far more in common than that which divides us.”
It was an exciting experience and we were able to have the full name of the church mentioned several times. The presentation was well received by the audience and we hope to have more opportunities in the future.

You talk with people every day who say that God does not exist or is far, far away. A woman sat next to me on a plane. I spoke to her. She strained to understand me. When she spoke, her accent almost overpowered her English. In answer to my question, she told me that she was returning to the place of her birth. She said that the occasion which drew her was a religious observance of the death of her father, who died many years ago. She had made the flight on the third, the seventh, the thirteenth, and the seventeenth anniversaries of his death. And now she was going again.
I told her that I admired her devotion to her father. She said, quietly, that she believed in the veneration of her ancestors. I asked her if her family had attended church. She smiled and said, “No, only go to church when someone dies.” I asked her if she believed in a god. She said, “Yes.” I asked her if she thought he was close by. She said, “No. If we should need him we would say, ‘come here,’” and she made a beckoning sign with her hand. I asked her who she believed God was. Her soft, tentative answer was, “Well, he is like one of our distant ancestors.”
She needed to hear the words you have heard spoken here: Jesus Christ, the fall of Adam, the Atonement, the Resurrection, repentance, eternal life, and the pure love of God. But I realized those words would not touch her. I remembered and understood the power of what Elder Spencer W. Kimball wrote in the beginning of his book The Miracle of Forgiveness. You may recall this warning:
“This book presupposes a belief in God and in life’s high purpose. Without God, repentance would have little meaning, and forgiveness would be both unnecessary and unreal. If there were no God, life would indeed be meaningless; … we might find justification in an urge to live only for today, to ‘eat, drink and be merry,’ to dissipate, to satisfy every worldly desire. If there were no God there would be no redemption, no resurrection, no eternities to anticipate, and consequently no hope” (The Miracle of Forgiveness [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1969], pp. 3–4).
President Kimball’s words made me think not how different that woman was from me, but how much we were alike. God is our ancestor, not distant but close. He is the Father of our spirits; we are his children. But like that woman, we all at times feel far removed from him. Like her, if we are to have the words of the gospel of Jesus Christ touch us, then we must believe in God. We must want to be with him. And we must sense our need to be purified to be with him again.

I know a brother in Brazil who joined the Church as a 16-year-old, the only member in his family. When it was time for his mission, his parents objected. He heard nothing from them during his mission and returned home to his bishop’s house. The story, however, has a happy ending as he now has a beautiful family, works as a dental surgeon, and his parents wish he could interest his brothers in the Church.

Third, while you must exercise your agency and bear the responsibility for your decisions, you need not face temptation alone. Just two weeks ago at a stake conference, Elder Charles “Tiny” Grant, one of our fine regional representatives, shared an experience with us. He said that some years ago while he was the football coach at Ricks College, he met a man named Hal Barton, who was famous for his love of fishing. He was warned, however, that “although Hal knows where to find the big fish, he often goes into strong waters to find them.”

Their first opportunity to go fishing together was in February as the ice was breaking up. As they walked together up the river, Hal pointed to an island about fifty yards away and said, “Coach, that is where we will find the big ones.” The day was cold, and now they had to cross a dangerous part of the river. The coach soon discovered that the rocks were round and slick, and the water was only inches from the top of his waders. Since he is six feet five inches tall, that meant it was deep. He was about to tell Hal that he was afraid he couldn’t cross the water, but realized that the football coach could not admit that he was afraid.

Just then Hal said, “Coach, this is how we are going to cross the water. You take a step and get a firm footing while I hold your hand and arm steady. Then I will take a step while you stand firmly and furnish the support. We will work our way through this roiling, swift water over these slippery rocks.” With this mutual support, they crossed the river safely and caught the big ones.

When I was single, it seemed like engaged girls with sparkly diamond rings loved to show them off so everyone would know how much their husband paid for them. It’s like in the film Johnny Lingo, where islanders are shocked when Johnny buys his wife with eight cows instead of the typical three or four. I couldn’t wait until I got the chance to wave around an “eight cow” ring of my own.

But if you judge me by the plain, thin, silver-colored ring I currently wear, you’d think my husband was a cheapskate. Actually my husband worked for months so I could have a beautiful ring. Unfortunately, it was an uninsured beautiful eight-cow ring … and I flushed it down the toilet.

We’d only been married for two weeks, and I’d already formed the habit of carefully pulling off my ring and placing it safely in a little box above the sink each time I washed my hands. I didn’t want to run the risk of tainting my ring’s sparkle with soap scum buildup. As I pulled it off one Saturday morning, the pressure built, and it popped right off my knuckle. I watched in disbelief as my lovely ring sailed straight for the toilet and hit the open bowl dead center, just as it finished flushing.

I screamed. I cried. I tried to jump in after it, but grown women just don’t fit in toilet bowls no matter how desperate the circumstances. My poor husband took the toilet apart for me, stuck his whole arm down the sludge hole, and felt around for the ring. We called every person in town that had anything to do with the sewer system and pleaded our case.

“Lady, your line is connected to the largest high pressure pipe in the city. Your ring is long gone,” I was told. In one swift swirl of water, my ring was gone forever.

Over the next few days, I became understandably depressed. My marriage preparation classes hadn’t covered crises of the flushing variety. I worried I’d ruined my chances for a happy marital relationship. After all, my husband had insisted on buying me a nice ring because the sacrifice it would take for him to be able to buy it would represent his love for me. Now I’d flushed the symbol of his love down the toilet.

I was telling my husband for the 42nd time how oafish I was and how sorry I was that he’d worked so hard for something I’d clumsily lost. He took me by the shoulders, looked me in the eyes, and said, “Please stop, Arianne. I don’t care about the ring. I didn’t do all that work for some sparkly rock. I did it for you, and I’d do it all over again a hundred times if you wanted me to. You’re worth more than all the diamonds in the world. I love you.”

My husband’s comforting words and warm embrace that day made me realize how silly I’d been acting. The ring was gone, but everything it symbolized still exists.

So even though I still punish the toilet with a hard kick from time to time, I’ve learned to focus on what’s most important. And that’s not how much my husband spent on me but how much he loves me. My husband insists he’ll get me a new ring someday. But I’m not sure I want one. Every time I look at my thin little ring, I remember what real love is. It doesn’t sparkle, it can’t be shown off, and thank goodness, it can’t be flushed down a toilet.

Her three brothers—Miguel, Angel (called Micky), and Jorge—are quite a bit older than she is. When Miguel returned from his mission, his little sister didn’t really remember him, but she stayed by his side all the time. About four months after he got home, JoAnnie became very sick with a high temperature. Their mother asked him to give his sister a blessing. JoAnnie had faith that if he did, she would be healed. Miguel changed into his Sunday clothes and prepared himself to give the blessing. After the blessing, JoAnnie immediately became better.

When the camp committee told the girls in the Sandy Utah North Stake that one of their projects last summer would be to build a bowery, most of the girls responded with, “What’s a bowery?” After learning that it was a shelter made of tree limbs or boughs, they still felt a little hesitant, but they eagerly accepted the challenge of learning something new. The result was a beautiful, lashed bowery that became a permanent part of the stake-owned camp property. (Lashing means binding with twine or rope.)
Because very little information was available on building a bowery, many hours were spent in researching and planning the actual construction details. The leaders and girls agreed it was time well-spent, since it enabled them to complete the entire shelter in one afternoon. Before camp, four aspen trees were selected as the corner posts of the bowery, and it was determined that there was plenty of wood scattered throughout the camp that could be used as framework.
When the day to begin construction arrived, the 89 campers and their leaders were divided into three groups, one to gather wood, one to cut it into uniform pieces, and one to lash the framework. The roof was divided into three main sections, separated by two large, wooden braces. The wood pieces, about 3 1/2 inches wide, were lashed together to make a roof approximately 15-by-20 feet. The girls had learned lashing as part of their Campcrafter certification but until now had not attempted lashing anything larger than a small fence.
Bailing twine was used, and when at last the first two sections were completed, the roof was lifted up by the girls and lashed to the four trees. Additional supports were added along the sides and in the center beams, and the final section was completed after the roof was secured to the trees. They decided to finish only two sections before raising it because they were afraid it might be too heavy to lift. They discovered however, that with 89 girls, the entire finished bowery could have been lifted easily.
After its completion, pine boughs were piled on top and a wooden sign carved with the stake initials was made to identify the bowery. The pride of accomplishment radiated from the young women each time they looked at the bowery, a standing testimonial to the skills they had learned in the Campcrafter program. As stake camp director Chris Campbell said, “We had the knowledge that with our work, faith, and the Lord’s help, we could accomplish great things.” Their goal for next time? A log cabin!

In the following excerpt, Sharon Lynn Glasser does more than tell her readers she received a call to serve in the Relief Society; she takes them into her world and shows them.
“Saturday night, Bonnie Hall, Relief Society president of our branch, called me and asked if I would give the Relief Society lesson in the morning. I said, ‘Okay (gulp),’ and she said to come over and she’d help make visual aids since it was such late notice. When I asked her why she wanted to ask me, she said she’d said a prayer, and my name came to her head. Suddenly I felt peaceful, and I knew that I could give the lesson.
“The lesson was on diseases. A health lesson—how boring, I thought! I really didn’t know what I was going to say. I underlined things in the manual. Bonnie made some adorable looking germs to represent the diseases, and I made signs with the names on them until 2:00 A.M.
“So there I was in front of a roomful of people my own age. (The last class I taught was in Junior Sunday School.) And it was so neat! I know the Lord helped me with that lesson. I was calm and peaceful like I’ve never been before. It seemed so easy.
“I discovered in sacrament meeting that night that all the Relief Society teachers had been called. There was no chance for me now, but I’d get another neat job, I assured myself.
“Sunday night, I was sitting reading, determined I was going to bed early for a change; in fact, I was ready for bed, when the phone rang.
“‘President Kinghorn would like to see you in his office; can you come down?’
“‘Now?’
“‘Yes, now.’
“‘Okay, but it’ll be a little while.’ …
“I flew down the hill. And there I was in President Kinghorn’s office.
“We talked a little bit about me, and then he said, ‘You did the wrong thing in Relief Society this morning.’
“I’m sure my eyes got an inch wider. What … what could I have done wrong? I scanned my memory.
“‘You impressed some people.’
“I visibly relaxed.
“‘So we’ve decided to try a new system; our classes are too large, so we’ve decided to call you to be the other Health and Family Living teacher.’
“I was overjoyed! I ran so fast on the way home, I was too out of breath to explain what happened and just plopped myself on Jill’s bed.”

“Okay, Melody, let’s try the stuffed animal trick again,” Lisa said. “The magic show is in half an hour.”
Lisa looked at her five-year-old sister. Melody’s costume was awesome. She had on a top hat and a sparkly cape from the costume box. The cape was big on Melody, but that made it easier to hide tricks inside.
Melody looked at the cardboard box with the two stuffed animals hidden inside. “That trick is hard,” she said. “I don’t know if I can do it!”
Lisa smiled. “But you’re getting better all the time. Remember, the owl has shorter fur than the dog. You have to feel the difference inside the box without looking. OK, try to pull out the dog.”
Melody reached in the box. She felt around for a bit and pulled out the stuffed dog. “Yes!” Melody said.
Lisa gave her a high five. “Great job! Now keep practicing. It’s almost time.”
The girls had put up posters all around the house inviting the family to “Magnificent Melody’s Magical Magic Show.” The whole family was excited. Lisa wondered if she should have put her own name on the poster too.
Usually she invented magic tricks and showed them to the family herself. Mom and Dad always liked them. So did her sisters. But earlier that day Melody had asked Lisa to teach her some tricks. When Melody learned them so quickly, Lisa thought it would be a good idea to let Melody have her own magic show.
She paused as she set up chairs in the playroom. Would this magic show still be as much fun? Lisa loved performing her own tricks for the family. It might be weird to only be an assistant.
Then she watched Melody practice the flower trick again. She was having so much fun getting ready.
Twenty minutes later Lisa called out, “Come one! Come all! It’s time for Magnificent Melody’s Magical Magic Show!”
Mom, Dad, Michelle, and Lily hurried to the basement. Lisa waited at the side of the playroom while Melody stood in the center of the pretend stage.
Melody was about as excited as Lisa had ever seen her. Lisa suddenly didn’t mind that she wasn’t the star tonight.
“For my first trick,” Melody said, “I’m going to turn this one flower into … a bunch of other flowers.”
That was Lisa’s cue, even if Melody had forgotten the word bouquet. Lisa had to wave the magic wand for this trick. Melody’s hands were busy in the folds of her magic cape.
Lisa hurried across the room and waved the wand before returning to the side. Seconds later, Melody pulled out a bouquet of flowers. Everybody clapped.
The ball out of the hat trick went perfectly too. So did the other tricks they had practiced.
Then came the grand finale. Melody held up the owl. “I am going to change this stuffed animal, by magic!”
Lisa noticed that Melody looked a little nervous for the first time during the show. Lisa gave her an encouraging smile.
Melody put the owl into the magic box. She waved her wand, said the magic words, and pulled out … the dog! She did it!
A huge grin spread across Melody’s face as she finished her toughest trick. The whole family clapped and cheered.
Lisa clapped hardest of all. This was much better than being the star of the show. She had helped her little sister feel magnificent. That was real magic.