Gospel Story Finder

Screams echoed through the trees as people ran to avoid lava and falling rocks. I stood backstage listening to the soundtrack booming through speakers across the hill.
That summer, I participated in the Hill Cumorah Pageant, which portrayed several events from the Book of Mormon. I had been cast as a harvest dancer (see 1 Nephi 18:23–24) and an unbeliever (see 3 Nephi 1:4–21), but everyone, including the staff, was a part of the upcoming scene.
A spotlight shone on a figure dressed in white, seemingly floating above the highest tier of the stage. He wasn’t really the Savior, of course—just a volunteering college student like me. But in that moment onstage, I imagined the real Savior standing there instead.
I pictured Him walking up to me, and I imagined looking into His eyes. Feelings from the Spirit washed over me. In that moment, I had a taste of what it must be like to see my true Savior. I treasured this unique spiritual experience.

There are moments in our lives that can shape our core selves. We usually don’t perceive at the time that these experiences will prove pivotal. We tend to regard them as fairly routine or mundane. It is only in the process of time that we come to sense something of their importance for us personally. Nor do these events have to involve spectacular happenings - some very “small and simple things” can imprint themselves on our minds and hearts and influence the pattern of our lives. I had one such experience as a six-year-old child.
The year was 1979, the location - Dublin, Ireland. The event was the building of the Finglas Chapel (now Dublin Ireland Stake centre). In those days members were expected to help with the manual labour of constructing a chapel. My Mother, brothers and I, went along to help. I was six. Nowadays young children would not be permitted on building sites and, obviously, there were limits to what we could do. So, we carried bricks from one portion of the site to another so that they could be used to construct the building and the carpark.
I don’t recall all that happened, but I do recall carrying what seemed like very heavy bricks. No doubt I was slow. I am sure that sometimes I wanted to play more than I wanted to work. I am confident that I contributed little to that great endeavour. But I look back upon that work with happiness. It helped to bring me to God and His Church - represented not just by bricks and mortar - but more crucially by God’s covenant cause.

When I was in high school, I decided it was time I gained a testimony of my own instead of relying on those of my parents.
I wasn’t quite sure how to go about gaining a testimony, so one night as I was kneeling by my bed saying my prayers, I asked the Lord to let me know whether or not the gospel was true. Then I jumped into bed and went to sleep.
The next day I did the very same thing and for the next few days after that. Needless to say, I was not gaining a testimony.
I decided to try a different approach. Instead of just praying and jumping into bed, I would pray and then wait on my knees for the answer to come to me. It didn’t.
Something had to be done. I had just finished reading the Book of Mormon. The people in there were constantly gaining testimonies. It just didn’t seem fair that I couldn’t get an answer. What was I doing wrong?
I was reading one night in Doctrine and Covenants 9:7 where it says, “Behold, you have not understood; you have supposed that I would give it unto you, when you took no thought save it was to ask me.” [D&C 9:7]
I realized then that I had been going about gaining a testimony all wrong. Instead of just expecting it to be given to me, I needed to find one.
I looked up all the cross-references I could find on the subject of testimonies, talked to my bishop about it, and talked to my parents and others.
After studying and fasting, I prayed and asked the Lord to help me know the truth. My testimony started to grow.
But I was wrong when I thought that my first prayer hadn’t been answered. Section 9, verse 7, was what I had prayed for. Although it was not a testimony, it was telling me the way I could find one for myself.

My young friend has some difficult challenges. They limit him in some ways, but in other ways he is extraordinary. For example, his boldness as a missionary rivals the sons of Mosiah. The simplicity of his beliefs makes his convictions incredibly firm and steady. I believe that in Scott’s mind it’s unimaginable that everyone isn’t a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and that everyone hasn’t read the Book of Mormon and doesn’t have a testimony of its truthfulness.
Let me tell you of an event in Scott’s life when he was making his first airplane flight alone to visit his brother. A neighbor who was seated nearby overheard Scott’s conversation with the person next to him:
“Hello, my name is Scott. What is yours?”
His seatmate shared his name.
“What do you do?”
“I am an engineer.”
“That’s nice. Where do you live?”
“In Las Vegas.”
“We have a temple there. Do you know where the Mormon temple is?”
“Yes. It is a beautiful building.”
“Are you a Mormon?”
“No.”
“Well, you should be. It is a great religion. Have you read the Book of Mormon?”
“No.”
“Well, you should. It’s a great book.”
I agree wholeheartedly with Scott—the Book of Mormon is a great book. The words of the Prophet Joseph Smith cited on the introduction page of the Book of Mormon have always resonated with me: “I told the brethren that the Book of Mormon was the most correct of any book on earth, and the keystone of our religion, and a man would get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts, than by any other book.”
This year in our Sunday School classes, we are studying the Book of Mormon. As we prepare and participate, may we be motivated to follow Scott’s bold example to share our love of this special scripture with others not of our faith.
A dominant theme of the Book of Mormon is expressed in the final verse of the first chapter of 1 Nephi. Nephi writes, “But behold, I, Nephi, will show unto you that the tender mercies of the Lord are over all those whom he hath chosen, because of their faith, to make them mighty even unto the power of deliverance” (1 Nephi 1:20).
I wish to speak about how the Book of Mormon, which is a tender mercy of the Lord preserved for these latter days, delivers us by teaching us in a pure and “most correct” way the doctrine of Christ.

An interesting story of one such trip concerns the voyage of the ship International, which left Liverpool, England, on 25 February 1853. She carried on board a Latter-day Saint immigrant company of 425, including a number of unbaptized friends and relatives and a crew of 26.
The ship ran into violent storms, delaying the crossing and making it necessary to ration food. In four weeks, only one-third of the distance to New Orleans, Louisiana, had been covered.
Thanks to the faith and prayers of the valiant Saints, a miracle occurred: favorable winds made it possible to make up time lost. The International docked in New Orleans after a 54-day voyage across the Atlantic Ocean.
Christopher Arthur presided over the company of Latter-day Saints aboard the International. In his official report to the British Mission president, President Arthur wrote: “I am glad to inform you, that we have baptized all on board except three persons. … We can number the captain, first and second mates, with eighteen of the crew, most of whom intend going right through to the valley. … The number baptized in all is 48, since we left our native shores” (quoted in William G. Hartley, “Voyage on the Ship International,” New Era, September 1973, 9).

I had always had the same dream. Ever since I could remember, my dream was to ice-skate in the Olympics. I worked very hard at it, skating in all my free time. Although I loved skating with all my heart, the time it took to practice left me with very little time for my friends.
I knew that I was lucky to have three close friends, because I was shy and it was difficult for me to make friends. When my parents told me that my father’s company was transferring him to another state, I was heartsick.
“Mom, we can’t move,” I protested. “It will mess up everything! I’ll have to get familiar with a new rink, a new practice schedule, a new coach. And since I’ll be unknown at the new rink, I’ll go to the bottom of the list for practice hours. And I won’t know a single person in the whole state, except you and Dad.”
“I know, Melissa,” Mom soothed, “It isn’t going to be easy for any of us, especially you. But we’re all going to have to do our share of sacrificing. You may have to work a little harder to reach your goals, but you’ll manage somehow.”
I knew that Mom was right, but I was still terrified of facing a new situation, and the thought of trying to make new friends made me feel sick to my stomach.
Mom and I drove to the ice rink in Danville, our new hometown, the first night we arrived. It was a Friday night, and the rink was open for public skating. Mom had an appointment with the owner to discuss practice time. I wanted to try out the ice.
I slipped into my skates and joined the twenty or so people on the ice. My spirits were so low that I just glided along without really putting any effort into it.
I watched the people closely. Most of them were in groups of two or three, except for a few girls my age. There were four of them, and I could tell by the way they were skating that they were not beginners. These laughing, boisterous girls were the girls I’d be sharing ice time with.
I tried to get up the courage to say hello and introduce myself, and I almost did—until I realized that they had noticed me and were eyeing me with interest. I knew that they were trying to size me up, and I lost all my confidence. I was relieved to see Mom coming out of an office door. I exited the ice quickly.
“How’s the ice?” Mom asked.
“It’s OK,” I mumbled.
“Well,” she started, “as you guessed, you’re going to have to share ice time. Practice times are Monday and Wednesday afternoons from four to six, and Tuesday and Thursday from three to five. You can be on the ice every morning from five to seven, but only with your coach. I set up an appointment for you to meet the coaches tomorrow. The sooner you pick one, the sooner you can get started.”
Mom went on and on about the business end of skating, and I was happy to let her. I was afraid if she tried to involve me in the conversation, she’d see how miserable I was feeling.
I chose a wonderful coach, and after a couple of weeks we had a routine down. We practiced every weekday morning for an hour, two on Saturday, and two hours in the evenings, Monday through Thursday.
I went to school and church and skated with the four girls I’d seen that first night at the rink. But I still had not made any friends. I knew that it was mostly my fault, because I hadn’t really tried. It was easier to pretend that I was too busy. But now that my schedule was no longer new, I was getting bored and lonely. I wanted to be friends with those girls more than I’d wanted anything since we’d moved. I decided that I was going to make an honest effort to befriend them.
Mom made a batch of her best fudge brownies, and I took them with me one Monday morning. It was just the icebreaker I needed. That day I became friends with Julie, Ann, Michelle, and Kelly.
For the next couple of days, everything went well. I was thrilled to have them for friends, and they seemed to like me, too. Danville was starting to feel like home.
On Friday night, we all met at the rink during public skate time to have a little fun. It was nice to just glide along the ice with a chill in my face and my hair blowing behind me and not worry about figure eights or double toe loops.
We had been on the ice for about twenty minutes, when Julie snickered and pointed to a heavyset girl of our age, coming onto the ice. “There she is again! I can’t believe that cow is coming on the ice.”
I couldn’t believe my ears! Who is she? I wondered. I hadn’t seen her here before.
“Hey, Moo-ey Mary, who let you out of the barn?” Julie hollered at her.
The other girls giggled. I looked from face to face, trying to decide what to do. I looked back at Mary, who was trying to ignore them, but I could see that her feelings were hurt.
My first thoughts were for myself. Why is this happening? I know that going along with them is wrong, but if I say anything, I’ll probably lose them as friends. Maybe I could just ignore the whole thing. I grabbed Ann’s arm. “Come on,” I said, “let’s skate.”
“Wait a minute,” she said. “I want to watch this.”
“Try not to crack the ice,” Julie yelled, and the girls laughed as if on cue. Then they all began to moo.
I looked over at Mary to see what her reaction to this would be. I could see tears running down her cheeks. She was so upset that she was shaking. Everyone on the ice had stopped to look at her.
Mary tried to continue skating, but as she reached us and realized that she would have to pass by us, she went completely white in the face. I had never before known what it meant to feel dirty, but I did now.
I had already noticed that she wasn’t a very good skater and that she had labored to get this far without falling. The other girls were calling her names now, too, and I saw some boys coming our way, laughing.
Mary let go of the handrail, which she had clung to for these past few minutes, and tried to pass us. I could tell that she wasn’t going to make it. Michelle jumped out at her, knocking her off balance, and she fell with a thud to the ice.
The boys, who had joined our circle, started to shake in imitation of an earthquake. It made me sick to my stomach to watch the girls go into peals of laughter over this. I felt angry—mostly with myself.
“Why are you doing this?” I blurted out. “Why don’t you leave her alone. She has as much right to be here as we do.”
Julie turned toward me, all traces of friendship gone from her face. “If you like her so much,” she spat at me, “then why don’t you be her friend?”
I hesitated. But I knew right from wrong, and this was wrong!
“I will!” I said. “I’ll be glad to.”
I skated over to Mary, who had been trying to get on her feet without success. I took her arm, and as I did, I saw that Kelly was reaching for the other one. Together we helped her to her feet and to the handrail.
“My name is Melissa,” I said. “And this is Kelly. Don’t pay any attention to them. They made mistakes and fell when they were learning to skate, too.”
“That’s right,” Kelly agreed.
“Thank you,” Mary managed to say. “Can you help me get to the gate?”
“Oh, please don’t go,” I pleaded. “Stay and have some fun. Kelly and I will give you a free skating lesson, won’t we, Kelly?”
“You bet,” she said. “You can have as many as you like.”
My actions caused me to lose three friends that day. But I made two lifelong, special ones, and I’ve never been sorry for making the right choice.

All through school, I had had the same group of friends. But one year, a new student started at our school, and unlike me, he was popular. But I still somehow became his friend. In the months following, we became closer until we were best friends.
I was in the habit of going to seminary immediately after school. One day he asked me where I went every day. I decided to explain all about the Church, but from the look on his face, I realized this wasn’t the best way to talk to him. So I stopped talking so insistently.
A few months later the elders were coming over to my house at the same time some friends and I were meeting there to do homework. This friend was one of them, so I asked the elders to talk a little about the Church. He was interested in what they were saying. He realized that some things in my life were different from what he and other friends were doing, and he wanted to find out why. He started coming to church, Mutual, and seminary, and he saw that all my Church friends were like me, with the same principles. Soon he decided to be baptized.
At his baptism, the bishop asked him to bear his testimony. He stood and said: “I am here today thanks to a friend and how different he was from other people. I hope that everyone will see the differences in all of you too.”

The translation of the Book of Mormon is a miracle in itself and gives further proof of the book’s divine origin. When Oliver Cowdery arrived in Harmony, Pennsylvania, on April 5, 1829, to serve as the Prophet’s scribe, only a few pages of the final text had been translated. That evening Joseph and Oliver sat down together and discussed the Prophet’s experiences long into the night. Two days later, on April 7, they commenced the translation of the work. Over the next three months, Joseph translated at an amazing rate—approximately 500 printed pages in about 60 working days.
Oliver wrote of this remarkable experience: “These were days never to be forgotten—to sit under the sound of a voice dictated by the inspiration of heaven, awakened the utmost gratitude of this bosom! Day after day I continued, uninterrupted, to write from his mouth, as he translated, with the Urim and Thummim … the history, or record, called ‘The book of Mormon’” (Messenger and Advocate, Oct. 1834, 14; see also Joseph Smith—History 1:71, note).

“Come on, Meagan, just try it on. You might change your mind,” Sarah said, shoving the dress into my arms.
Hesitantly, I took the dress back to my changing room. It was a beautiful, black satin gown, studded with sequins. I studied it as it hung on the hook in the dressing room. Sarah was right; trying it on wouldn’t hurt. Trying it on didn’t mean I wanted to buy it; it just meant I wanted to see what it looked like on me.
“Well?” Sarah asked impatiently.
“I like it. It’s really nice,” I forced myself to say, as I saw myself in the mirror.
My mom would hate it! The spaghetti straps would never pass my father’s approval, and the low cut back was definitely not modest.
“So what’s the problem?” Sarah could tell by the tone in my voice that I was not crazy about it.
I tried to think of a million excuses that I could tell Sarah to let her know how important modesty was to me, without sounding too stuffy.
“Well, it’s … just not me.”
“You’re afraid your parents wouldn’t approve,” Sarah quickly responded.
It wasn’t just that my parents would not approve; it was more that I didn’t feel right wearing it.
“Listen, Meagan,” Sarah said. “Prom is only once a year. God won’t care if you look fashionable just this once.”
Straightening the slinky gown, I looked down and saw my CTR ring. Choose the right, I reminded myself, and let the consequences follow. I had to tell Sarah the truth. It wasn’t just what other people thought of me; it was what I thought of myself. Even though Sarah wasn’t a member of the Church, I knew if I was honest with her and explained why modesty was important to me, she would understand. Prom was a big deal, but it was not worth sacrificing my integrity.
I looked at my CTR ring again and replied, “You’re right, Sarah.” Changing back into my clothes, I continued, “I should do what makes me happy.” Sarah smiled since she assumed I meant to buy the dress. “And that is why I can’t buy it. It wouldn’t make me happy.”
I ended up wearing a maroon dress with a modest neckline and cap sleeves that my mom and Sister Wright sewed on for me. More important than what I wore on the outside was how I felt on the inside. I knew I had made the right decision by dressing modestly. What we wear to dances may not seem like a big deal, but the little decisions we make now are what help us choose the right when we are presented with big choices later.

Early in our married life, when Sister Nelson and I lived in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in the United States, we decided to enjoy a free afternoon with our two-year-old daughter. We went to one of Minnesota’s many beautiful lakes and rented a small boat. After rowing far from shore, we stopped to relax and enjoy the tranquil scene. Suddenly our little toddler lifted one leg out of the boat and started to go overboard, exclaiming, “Time to get out, Daddy!”
Quickly we caught her and explained, “No, dear, it isn’t time to get out; we must stay in the boat until it brings us safely back to land.” We had a hard time convincing her that leaving the boat early would lead to disaster.

Ron had no time for school sports once he reached high school because he always had a job, but he made time for loyal friendships that have lasted a lifetime.
“I’ve always admired Ron for who he is, but he wasn’t perfect,” says childhood friend Kraig McCleary. With a smile, he adds, “I’ve told him that if he gets to heaven, I’ll get there too because we did the same things growing up.”
Ron left on his mission in early 1970, but Kraig was thinking about postponing missionary service until after that fall’s hunting season. That’s when Ron called him from his mission.
“I don’t know how he got permission to call, but he chastised me for not being more excited about getting right out on my mission,” Brother McCleary says. “Of course, I didn’t postpone it.”

Jonel Foster, a tall, serious Aaronic Priesthood holder who is looking forward to serving a mission, was also introduced to the Church by Brother Cox. “I also thought Brother Cox was a little crazy, but my mother said you must listen before you pass judgment. I already believed in Christ. Now I believe fully. My belief is truly from my heart.”
Jonel was baptized in the ocean. “It was the happiest day of my life,” he said. “I felt pure. I felt it was right. The Church is a driving force in my life. If you write anything about what I say, I want you to write this. I know the Church is true.”

I remember so well an experience I had when I was a boy of about 14. My father was a bishop. There was a death in the ward, and he was going to prepare for the funeral. He asked my brother and me to do certain things while he was gone. We thought he would be gone quite awhile, and we decided to ride some calves before we did what he had told us to do. We thought we would have plenty of time, but he came home while we were still riding those calves, and he called us over to him. Though he had never whipped me, I thought maybe I was going to receive a whipping at that time. But he pointed his finger at me and said, “My boy, I thought I could depend on you.” That hurt me very much. I can still almost recall the exact feeling I had at that time. I made up my mind he would never have a reason again to say, “I thought I could depend on you.” Right then I made up my mind that the Lord would never have reason to say, “I thought I could depend on Eldon Tanner.” It has helped me greatly in my life. The things I learned while I was a boy have helped me all through my life.

But I was to go through a lot during my investigation of the Church. I fasted, I prayed, I read the scriptures. I wanted to get baptized. I was only 17, and my parents thought I was going through a teenage phase. They said I should wait. The elders challenged me to build my testimony anyway.
A few months later when I was 18, I was finally baptized. Little did I know that in 14 months I would go on a mission too.

One day my father, who was bishop of our ward, left my brother and me to do some work. We thought he would be gone for some time doing his church work. But he returned sooner than we had expected and found us riding calves.
When he called us over, I will never forget how he looked at me and said, “My boy, I thought I could depend on you!”
That was a great lesson, a severe punishment, to me. I made up my mind then that neither he nor anyone else would ever have reason to say that again to me as long as I lived.

During the summer, I was able to work with the missionaries, and had the opportunity to share my testimony. At first, it was hard. People asked a lot of questions, and I began to have doubts.
But then I prayed a lot, and the sister missionaries prayed with me. I also fasted. I asked Heavenly Father to help me feel the Spirit and to replace my doubts with something of which I was certain.
As I continued to bear my testimony, I saw my doubts change to understanding. I saw that the things I believe in are not just things that I know about; they are things that I know are true. The gospel does so much to bless me, and I can say with certainty that I know these blessings come from God. And I learned that even if other people don’t accept my testimony, I can see the influence of my testimony on them.
When we bear witness of the gospel to those around us, even if certain people don’t accept it, we have done our part and they have their agency. But maybe we have planted a seed with them, and the seed will grow.

One day as I was helping clean up around the house, I came across my brother’s copy of Preach My Gospel from his mission. I knew that missionaries used it, but I had never looked at it before. I started reading it and almost couldn’t put it down. (I had to because there was more cleaning to do, but I didn’t want to!)
I had always wondered how missionaries do the things they do. I realized that Preach My Gospel can help me better understand missionary work. It has helped me be better about going up to people and talking to them and sharing the gospel in a better way.
Alissa F. (above), age 19, New Hampshire, USA

In the spring of 2020 when missionaries around the world were returning to their home countries due to the COVID-19 pandemic, three sister missionaries from the island nation of Kiribati were serving in the Barbados Bridgetown Mission. Sister Manoua Bokai left her home to travel to the missionary training center on Dec. 31, 2018, so she only had a few months left to serve. Sister Tekimatang Auria had been serving for about six months as she started serving on Sep. 10, 2019. Sister Kiakia Barekiau, who had begun her MTC training on Jan. 14, 2020, had just arrived in Barbados on March 16.
Barbados closed due to the pandemic just a day or two after Sister Barekiau arrived. She was supposed to go to the island country of Saint Lucia, but because of the closure she stayed in Barbados. As a brand-new missionary, she and her companion taught people over the phone, by Facebook messenger, by Zoom, and through WhatsApp.
Sister Auria and Sister Bokai were in Saint Lucia when the countries closed, and people were required to stay at home. “We only had a small phone, not a smart phone for a long time,” Sister Auria said. “It was hard to teach people because we could not have a Zoom meeting or any other video chat. We could not see them; we could only talk on the phone.”
In August of 2020, President Alan L. Fisher and Sister Elizabeth H. Fisher, the mission president and his companion, gathered all the missionaries in the Barbados Bridgetown Mission together in Barbados. President and Sister Fisher recalled, “We loved working with these sisters and having the opportunity of becoming very close to them during the pandemic. We believe the Lord wanted them to have this experience, learn these lessons, and have an opportunity to develop relationships with each other and their mission leaders in a way that wouldn’t have happened otherwise. One of the tender mercies we experienced was sharing in the ordinance of the sacrament with them in their apartment. We prayed, sang, and shared scriptures from the Book of Mormon. This repeated connection together brought a bond of love and strength between us and between these sweet missionaries and the Lord. He lifted them and was a constant sustaining influence.”
One of the things Sister Bokai loved best about serving in the Barbados Bridgetown Mission was teaching about the Restoration of the gospel, especially sharing the First Vision. “I know that the Spirit touches the hearts of the people. You can feel when they are receptive and listening carefully. Every time we started to teach about the First Vision, distracting things would happen—phone calls, family needing them, etc.—but Heavenly Father blessed us, and we would get through it. There is power in teaching about the First Vision because, even though I was not there, I know it really happened, I know that God the Father and Jesus Christ truly appeared to Joseph Smith.”
President and Sister Fisher commented, “One of the blessings that evolved for sisters and for us was the power of singing together to bring the Spirit into teaching sessions and into their lives. The sisters sang through Zoom to the volcano-evacuated saints in St. Vincent. They brought them such peace and hope. As we taught with them, and especially each time they recited the account of the First Vision, the Spirit was poured out upon the people they taught, as well as on us and them!”

“I have had many experiences that have made me realize that the Lord will help you to do the impossible. When you operate like this, you learn that keeping the Spirit is the most important thing.
“One day, we had a work crew organized, and we needed 13,000 fathoms of sennett (rope made from coconut husks) to tie the pieces of the roof on the McKay house together. I had received promises from many people that they would supply the rope, but when I went to pick it up, no one had it ready. After driving all over the island, I had collected only about 30 fathoms. I was discouraged, and so I complained to God. In my prayers, I said, ‘We are working hard, and yet I can’t get the help I need.’
“I had to stop at the mission home to confirm another appointment, and one of the supervising elders said, ‘Brother Kamauoha, I have some sennett you can use.’
“I thought, ‘How nice,’ but I was sure an elder’s little souvenir roll of sennett wouldn’t really help us. He went into his room and came out with this big roll. He handed it to me and said he had about 13,000 fathoms as he wanted to build a Samoan fale (house) with it when he got home to the U.S.
“You can bet I hurriedly went back to the Lord and retracted my complaining. I was truly sorry for ever being discouraged.”

I was given my first Bible when I was eleven years old; my Primary teacher gave one to each of us boys in her Primary class. It was the only Bible I owned until after my mission. My parents offered to buy me a set of scriptures right before I left, but I didn’t want one. That Primary Bible had become very precious to me in my early teens as I began to gain my testimony of the gospel.
Before I left on my mission, that same Primary teacher got up in sacrament meeting and bore her testimony. She was going through a difficult time—she had a strong testimony but wondered if her service in the kingdom was sufficient or worthwhile. After she sat down, I got up and bore my testimony, sharing my love for the scriptures and especially that Bible. I told her what a powerful influence her simple gift had had on my life. It was the first time I ever cried when I bore my testimony, and I was embarrassed. But it was important that she know what a good influence she’d had on me.