Gospel Story Finder

A few years ago, I was extremely depressed. The only thing I could find a little motivation for was my best friend and her children. We went for walks on weekends, which I enjoyed. Over time, however, we began to go on walks less and less frequently. I began to miss my friend and her family. I later learned that our walks became less frequent because my friend and her family had resumed a practice they had stopped many years before—attending church.
One day they invited me to lunch. Seeing them again made me feel very happy. I told them how much I missed them. My friend’s six-year-old daughter suggested that we solve that problem by going to church together. So without thinking twice, she invited me to go.
Oh, no! How could I make this family understand that going to church was right for them but too boring for me? I hadn’t gone to church for years, but how could I say no to a child? I said I would go, but the truth was that I didn’t have the least intention of keeping that promise.
That Sunday, I went to breakfast with my dad. My cell phone constantly rang, reminding me that I had promised a little girl that I would go to church with her. I ignored my cell phone until my dad asked me why I wasn’t answering it. I admitted that I had been invited to go to a church meeting but didn’t want to go. He smiled and said, “Lluvia, never make a promise to a child if you are not willing to fulfill it.” I decided I would keep my promise.
When I arrived at church, I felt something different, something that I can’t describe. I still can’t explain how it happened, but the next Sunday, I found myself there again, and the next and the next, until I understood what I was feeling: the Holy Ghost.
The Church members began to make me feel at home. Without any doubt, I was curious about the Church. I began meeting with the missionaries, and I also began to gain a testimony. The missionaries’ visits became more constant, and my understanding of the gospel grew until I felt an immense desire to be baptized. I was baptized a short time later, and now I enjoy the blessings of the gospel. Because of this, I’m so grateful I kept my promise to a six-year-old girl.

On the east coast, it was common to drive down to the New Jersey shore and go to the beach at night after prom. We had the location mapped out and the cars and drivers prepared to make the trip. As the date approached I thought it would be a good idea to run these plans by my mother. She could see I was filled with enthusiasm, but with no hesitation she said, “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Can you do me a favor and pray about it?”
“Pray about it?” I said. “Why would Heavenly Father care if I go to the beach after the prom?”
I went upstairs and turned on some music, but I wasn’t going to pray. I was going to the beach anyway, no matter what she said. But as I lay on my bed, I began to feel a little guilty. So I turned off the music and sat there for a moment pondering the conversation I had had with my mother. I dropped to my knees on the side of my bed and began to pray. I told Heavenly Father about my prom plans, and I asked if He approved of them. Then came a very uncomfortable stupor of thought. I felt like Heavenly Father was saying no. Wow, I thought to myself. I just received personal revelation through prayer.
It was not exactly the answer I was looking for, but I had received an answer, so I followed it. As it turned out, there was immorality, drugs, and alcohol that night after prom. It was not where I needed to be. The most important event that night was when a 17-year-old boy received an answer to his prayers and gained more faith in his Heavenly Father’s plan.

When this pandemic began, I thought it would just pass quickly and would only last a few days. But as the days went by, we couldn’t have meetings, including seminary, youth activities, and sacrament meetings. We were told that we had to stay inside our homes for weeks, and we could only leave for essential activities.
While I’ve been home, I’ve seen that the Lord has given us all the things we need for this difficult time. We’re able to study the scriptures at home with Come, Follow Me, have seminary and school through video calls, and watch general conference from home.
One thing I’ve loved is that my family gets to be home more, and we’ve shared good moments as we’ve played games and spent time together. It’s usually difficult for us to come together during the week, so it’s been nice to all be home.
I’ve also been trying to develop spiritually. After conference, I realized we need to prioritize what’s really important—things like studying the scriptures, developing our faith and our testimonies, and helping strengthen those around us.
Just because we are going through difficult times doesn’t mean it has to be a bad time in our life. It just means that we have a chance to make ourselves better and go forward with faith. These adversities can help our faith grow, and we will have a much stronger testimony of the gospel when it’s all over.
Emma A., Spain

Matti and Kirsti Salmi exemplify this combination of faith with Finnish resolve. They live in the west coast city of Kemi, at the northern tip of the Gulf of Bothnia, less than one hundred kilometers below the Arctic Circle. In 1988, the Salmis became the first Finnish couple to serve a mission in their own land.

Kirsti had joined the Church in 1973 in Kuopio, after the missionaries taught her the gospel that “sounded familiar and true, especially after reading the Book of Mormon.” Matti was forty-eight when, in 1978, the elders brought “an undeniably strong spirit with them.” And he too was baptized. The two met in the summer of 1981 at the Swiss Temple.

“How glad we were for our proselyting mission call,” says Matti. “Within the first week of our mission, we met and taught our first people to be converted. By the end of the month they were baptized; then came another and another.”

“Even when people weren’t baptized,” adds Kirsti, “we never felt we taught in vain. On the other side, when some things are clearer, many of those will accept.”

Their work brought three young converts in Savonlinna, the beautiful site of the nation’s annual opera festivals. The city’s setting is dramatic, on a large archipelago in the middle of the largest of Finland’s 180,000 lakes. “We so enjoyed our work in that lovely setting,” says Brother Salmi. “The members there are devoted to the gospel and freely helped us share it.”

According to the Salmis, “teaching eternal principles together and sharing love for others deepened and strengthened our marriage more than anything we could think of.”

My father died last year, and now he is getting more of the education that he always wanted when he was a little boy. And me? Well, my wife and I have children of our own in school. And when they say, “But I don’t want to go to school,” I say, “Then I’ll go in your place. Do you think the teacher would mind? I wonder if I can fit into the seat at your desk?” And when they say, “My teacher makes me work too hard,” I just smile and mess up their hair and say, “I doubt it.”

I was born in Spain and lived there for eight years. We didn’t go to church a lot, so I wasn’t baptized when I turned eight, but I really wanted to be. One day I asked my parents why we weren’t going to church anymore and why I wasn’t baptized.

As I explained to them my desire to be baptized, it touched their hearts, and we started going to church again. It felt good. My mom was such a good example and an inspiration to me. She had a strong testimony and often read the scriptures.

Later on, we moved to Venezuela, where my dad is from. We lived there for two years, and because of the difficulties in the economy, we faced a lot of challenges. But there were good things too. I loved the food, and I had family there who were anxious to meet me. They were such humble people, and we all went to church together and felt the Spirit.

Even though we were going to church and I could feel the Spirit, I knew my family and I were missing something. I really felt that we needed to be sealed as an eternal family. One Sunday morning, the bishop invited everyone in the congregation to read the Book of Mormon before the end of the year. I knew this would help my parents and me more fully live the gospel of the Lord. Little by little, as we read the Book of Mormon, the Savior started giving us more knowledge and blessings, and we continued to read the scriptures regularly.

Soon I got baptized. I could really feel the Spirit in my life, and my parents did too. My testimony started growing more. We moved to Florida, USA, and we had to make a lot of changes and sacrifices again, just like when we left Spain. But our testimonies were growing stronger. We went to church every week and kept reading the scriptures.

After a lot of effort and a lot of reading the scriptures, praying, and choosing the right, we wanted to get sealed as an eternal family. We talked to our bishop, and even though it took some time, the day finally arrived. We were so excited to go inside the temple.

I got to do baptisms while I waited for my parents to complete the temple work for themselves. I felt like I was getting baptized again. I was really happy I could help people beyond the veil. Now my family and I go to the temple every week. I regularly do baptisms because I love helping there. I am so glad I got to be sealed in the temple to my parents for eternity and have the opportunity to live forever with them.

It was about that time Bob began talking again about going on his mission. We hadn’t mentioned it much, but then one day he said, “Well, I guess when we get home I’ll start getting ready for my mission.” From then on, he talked about a mission more and more. One night, about 1:00 A.M., after a long, hard day, he rolled over in his sleeping bag and said, “Dad, tell me about eternal life.” We talked for about two hours. Then, with his last effort, he said, “That’s what I want” and fell asleep. For me that made the whole trip worthwhile.
We slowly regained our lost time, and by the end of the trip, arrived in the small Eskimo village at the mouth of the river right on schedule. We had one half of a meal left. Our canoe was so badly damaged we had to abandon it (after notifying Canadian officials). We had sailed over every set of rapids on the river but one (whether we were tired or afraid of the one we carried our equipment around I’m not sure), so we didn’t claim any records. But Bob had been lost and now was found. The day after we returned home, he went to see the bishop and expressed his desire to serve the Lord. He is now serving in the Illinois Chicago Mission.

A few days before last Christmas a terrible tragedy occurred at one of the large coal mines in central Utah. Twenty-seven miners lost their lives when fire engulfed the long underground slopes and shafts. Many of these were young men with young wives and young children. The hearts of thousands over the world were touched by the suffering of loved ones left behind.
I met many of these. I spoke with them. I joined with them in a memorial service. There were tears, with much of weeping. There was an overwhelming feeling of loneliness as widows, with children to feed and clothe and educate, looked into the bleakness of the future. Our tears flowed with theirs. But shining through all of this was a faith transcendent that, as surely as there had been mortal death, there will be immortal life; and as certainly as there had been separation, there will be reunion. This is the faith which comes of Christ, who brought to all the promise of immortality.

As a boy, Heber J. Grant helped his mother sweep, wash dishes, and keep house. He had never played sports like other boys his age.
Heber: Mother, I want to join a baseball team.
At first Heber had to play with boys much younger than he was because he couldn’t throw the ball very well. His teammates made fun of him.
Boy: Throw the ball over here, sissy!
Instead of getting upset, Heber set a goal.
Heber: Someday I will play on a championship team!
Heber shined men’s boots to earn money until he had saved up enough to buy his own baseball.
Then he practiced pitching his baseball against Bishop Edwin Woolley’s barn every day. The bishop was concerned.
Bishop: Your son is the laziest boy in the whole ward. He wastes his time throwing a ball at my barn for hours.
Sister Grant: Bishop, my son is practicing to achieve a goal.
Heber’s hard work finally paid off. He joined a team that went on to win the regional championship.

Frequently the heavenly virtue of patience is required. As a bishop I felt prompted one day to call on a man whose wife was somewhat active, as were the children. This man, however, had never responded. It was a hot summer’s day when I knocked on the screen door of Harold G. Gallacher. I could see Brother Gallacher sitting in his chair reading the newspaper. “Who is it?” he queried, without looking up.
“Your bishop,” I replied. “I’ve come to get acquainted and to urge your attendance with your family at our meetings.”
“No, I’m too busy,” came the disdainful response. He never looked up. I thanked him for listening and departed the doorstep.
The Gallacher family moved to California shortly thereafter. The years went by. Then, as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, I was working in my office one day when my secretary called, saying: “A Brother Gallacher who once lived in your ward would like to talk to you. He’s here in my office.”
I responded, “Ask him if his name is Harold G. Gallacher who, with his family, lived at Vissing Place on West Temple and Fifth South.”
She said, “He is the man.”
I asked her to send him in. We had a pleasant conversation together concerning his family. He told me, “I’ve come to apologize for not getting out of my chair and letting you in the door that summer day long years ago.” I asked him if he was active in the Church. With a wry smile, he replied: “I’m now second counselor in my ward bishopric. Your invitation to come out to church, and my negative response, so haunted me that I determined to do something about it.”
Harold and I visited together on numerous occasions before he passed away. The Gallachers and their children filled many callings in the Church. One of the youngest grandchildren is now serving a full-time mission.

At the age of 14, I moved from the Bay Area of California, USA, to St. George, Utah. Traveling to a different state started as an exciting adventure, but once my family arrived and I started attending a new school, I quickly became lonely. My loneliness led to very unhealthy thoughts and feelings. I began to question whether my family loved me and even thought of suicide.
One Sunday I was really struggling and was wondering if there was even such a thing as love in the world. At church that same Sunday, my father spoke in sacrament meeting and told the congregation that if they had a question—any question at all—then they could ask God and He would give them an answer. That night, I humbly prayed before Heavenly Father as I never had done before. I told Him how lonely and sorrowful I was and told Him that I felt hopeless.
At this time, I felt that I only needed one question answered: “Heavenly Father, do You love me?” Although it seemed difficult to put this question in my prayer, I asked, desiring to know the truth with every beat of my heart. The answer came through the Spirit, and an overwhelming feeling of calm and peace filled my soul. To this day I cannot explain the depth of Heavenly Father’s love that I felt that night. Knowing that God loves me unlocked my testimony of everything else.

Emmeline also embraced this command. She understood that what the Lord said to one, He said to all (see Doctrine and Covenants 25:1, 16; 82:5). Even before her baptism at age 14 in March 1842, Emmeline had shown a love of learning and a talent for writing. Shortly after her baptism she finished her last term of formal education in Massachusetts and began teaching. After emigrating to Nauvoo, she taught in the common school system there. As Emmeline’s faith led her to join the Saints in other locales, including Winter Quarters and Utah Territory, she continued her educational and literary pursuits, in large part through her involvement in the Relief Society.

Six-year-old Justin was playing on the floor with his cars. His mother leaned down and kissed him. “I’m taking Alison for her checkup; then I’m going shopping. I won’t be back until suppertime. Be good for Daddy while I’m gone,” she said.
“I will,” Justin promised. When Mother had left, Justin puckered his thick eyebrows. “I think Mommy’s sad,” he told Daddy.
“Oh? Why do you think that?”
“Because Christmas is almost here, and she told me that it’ll be over before she can enjoy it.” Jason explained.
“Mommy’s been very busy the past two months with both a new baby and a new house,” Daddy said. “She hasn’t had time to do all the special things that she likes to do for us at Christmastime.”
“I know, Daddy. Christmas is just a week away, and we don’t even have our tree up yet.” Justin bit his lip thoughtfully.
“Maybe we can put one up and decorate it tomorrow,” Daddy said.
Justin’s blue eyes sparkled. “Why don’t we do it now and surprise her?”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Daddy replied. “Let’s get busy.”
“We can save some ornaments for Mommy to put on, too,” Justin said. “I know which ones are her favorites.”
By lunchtime, the tree was decorated. “It’s beautiful,” Justin sighed.
“So are you,” Daddy teased, pulling tinsel out of Justin’s hair.
Justin giggled. “What’s for lunch?”
“How about chicken noodle sandwiches and peanut butter soup? My own secret recipe.” Daddy always joked about his cooking.
“Yeah!” Justin shouted, jumping up and down. “And I’ll make the milk and pour the salad. My own secret recipe!”
After lunch Justin helped clear the table. “Mommy hasn’t made Christmas cookies this year, either,” he said. “Can we do that, too, Daddy?”
“That’s a big job,” Daddy said as he washed the dishes. “After you mix the dough, it has to chill for a long time. Then you have to roll it out and cut out the shapes. And I’m not sure I know what recipe your mom uses.”
“We could buy the rolled-up cookie dough at the store. You just slice the dough and put it on the cookie sheet. If we put colored sugar on them to make them pretty, they’d look like Christmas tree balls.”
Daddy laughed. “You’re full of ideas today, aren’t you? Get your coat. We’re going to the store.”
“Yea!” Justin yelled as he dashed through the house.
Later that afternoon Justin knelt on a stool and leaned over the kitchen counter as he helped his dad. The whole house smelled of freshly baked sugar cookies.
“Mommy will be home soon,” Daddy said, taking a last batch of cookies from the oven. “I think that that’s all we can do for today.”
“There’s just one more thing,” Justin said as he climbed down from the stool and headed for his bedroom. “I’m going to make a Christmas card for her.”
In a few minutes he came back with a pencil and his card. “How do you spell Alison?” he asked.
Daddy spelled slowly while Justin wrote very carefully.
When Mommy came home, she stopped in the doorway and breathed deeply. “What a wonderful smell!” she exclaimed. Then she stared at the lights twinkling on the tree. Daddy took her packages and Alison, and Justin handed her the card. She read:
“To Mom,
Does it feel like Christmas now?
We love you.
Justin, Daddy, and Alison.”
Mommy hugged Justin close. Her eyes sparkled like the lights on the tree. “Yes, Justin, it does. It feels like the best Christmas ever!”

A true story from India and Canada.
Tahira folded the last shirt and put it in her suitcase. She was packing for a trip to spend the summer with her aunt and uncle in Canada. She was excited but also a little nervous. Canada was far away from her home in India.
“Do you have everything?” Mom asked.
“I think so.” Tahira closed her suitcase.
“You’ll have a great time. Be sure to give Uncle Reza and Aunt Misu big hugs from me,” Mom said.
When Tahira got off the plane in Canada, she gave Uncle Reza and Aunt Misu a big hug. “This is from my mom,” she said.
They spent the next few days exploring the city and nearby places. She got to visit her first amusement park and see Niagara Falls. It was a lot of fun!
On Saturday afternoon, Tahira helped make chicken makhani for dinner. After they ate, Uncle Reza asked her a question.
“Would you like to come to church with us tomorrow?” he asked. “We go to a Christian church. We learn about Jesus Christ and His gospel there.”
“Sure,” Tahira said. Mom and Dad believed in a different religion, but Tahira went to a Christian boarding school in India. Going to a new church wouldn’t be that different.
The next day, Tahira put on a dress her aunt gave her to wear. When they got to the chapel and walked inside, everyone was singing. Tahira stopped and stared at all the people. There were moms and dads sitting with their kids. Everyone looked happy. The singing was so beautiful.
This feels like heaven, Tahira thought.
Tahira sat down on one of the benches with Aunt Misu and Uncle Reza. She watched as trays of bread and water were passed. She listened to the speakers talk about Jesus Christ. And she heard more singing. The last song was about families being together forever. She loved how the words made her feel.
After the last prayer, Tahira turned to Uncle Reza. “What does being together forever mean?”
Uncle Reza smiled. “We believe that if we follow Jesus Christ and make and keep promises with God, we can live in heaven with our families someday—all together.”
Tahira felt warm inside from her head to her toes. She liked the idea of being with her family forever.
After church, Tahira kept thinking about the beautiful music. She wanted to learn more about Jesus Christ and forever families. She decided to meet with the missionaries. As the weeks passed, Tahira knew more and more that the gospel was true.
Tahira called her parents to tell them about what she was learning. Then she asked them an important question. “Can I be baptized?” They said yes!
On the day of her baptism, Tahira, Uncle Reza, and Aunt Misu sang “I Am a Child of God.” Uncle Reza had translated it so they could sing it in Hindi. Hindi was the language she spoke at home in India.
As Tahira sang, she felt a warm feeling in her heart. It felt like heaven. And Tahira knew that because of Jesus Christ, if she kept her promises to Heavenly Father, she could live with both of Them again one day.
About Tahira
After her baptism, Tahira went back to India. There wasn’t a ward or branch near her home, but her ward members in Canada called her often.
Today, Tahira helps translate the hymnbook into many languages.
Illustrations by Ekata Mandal

Having been born in Hawaii, I enjoy reading the history of those islands and their people. One of the things that I find most intriguing about the ancient Hawaiian men and their form of battle was the method used in training for spear warfare.
The Hawaiian warriors used, among other weapons, a long spear made from very hard wood. They did not have metal from which to make tips, but otherwise they were about the size and weight of the javelin used in modern track-and-field events. As preparatory exercises for war, the men would engage in sham battles. Now while a sham battle was, as the name implies, a mock combat, it could become training of a very deadly sort. After dividing the warriors into two groups, arrayed on opposite sides of an open meadow, the sham battle began with each group hurling their spears at each other. The object of the game was not just to keep from getting killed, but rather, after having hurled one’s spear at the “enemy,” to catch the incoming spears bare-handed and throw them back as well. For, you see, once you had thrown your spear you were unarmed. You rearmed yourself by catching those coming toward you.
You can well imagine the scene that such a melee would produce. King Kamehameha was observed in one such battle to catch three spears in his right hand, fend off a fourth with the spear in his left hand and dodge a fifth, all in one continuous motion.
I bring up the Hawaiian sham battle because it is helpful in drawing parallels with our fight against Satan. But there are some differences—important differences. The sham battle was a game of sorts. You might get severely injured or even killed, but that was merely the odds of the game, not the intent.
On the other hand, the spears of the adversary are not thrown with any thought that they may be harmlessly caught or skillfully dodged. Satan is not engaged in a sham battle wherein he expects his efforts to be easily sidestepped. He carefully plans, with his great wealth of knowledge, the formation of each battle, having little interest in evenly and fairly dispersed combatants. His cunning and perverse plans are intended to home in his fiery darts with swift accuracy, separating us, as Nephi warned, from the iron rod (see 1 Ne. 15:24). You and I may think the War in Heaven is over, but as far as Satan is concerned that was merely the initial battle. He continues with a hate-driven vengeance that you and I, filled with the light of Christ, cannot even begin to envision. He has devised schemes without number to gain men’s souls.
Overcoming the perverse enticings of Satan is an essential part of our progression and advancement. It is a very personal battle that we wage with Satan. No one can fight it for us. We can, however, strengthen and buoy each other up. That is the purpose of families and friends. It is also one reason for the programs of the Church.
Now, returning to the cliff-walking attitude I referred to earlier. As you and I thread our way through life’s paths, we become confronted with Satan’s detours, those opportunities to peer over the cliff. Being curious or bold or foolhardy, or however we so choose to characterize our attempts to come perilously close to the edge without falling, we often see just how far we can get from the iron rod, maybe just barely keeping contact with the tip of a finger. Then if one of Satan’s darts strikes too near the target, we slip over the edge with hardly a murmur. It was thrilling though, while it lasted, teetering there on the brink, knowing we were so close to peril but confident, oh so confident, that we had things in control.
Satan doesn’t care what he uses to get us—liquor, tobacco, drugs, desires for unearned wealth, dishonesty, lust. He’ll use whatever is at hand.
I recall a young couple who were having difficulty behaving themselves when alone on a date. They became concerned with their actions and worried that they might become increasingly involved to the point that they would lose all that they held dear. After talking things over, they decided they needed to begin each date with a prayer. That was a good plan, but their dates continued to end up with just the two of them in some secluded spot and walking on the edge of the cliff, as it were. They repeatedly fell into the same behavior for which they had prayed for strength to overcome. Peril-filled petting had greater attraction than did the calm plans made in the less secluded light of day. It was obvious that if they were going to stop flirting with danger, they would have to take steps to change their pattern of being alone. Yet it seems to be so human how, having once walked to the edge of the cliff, they returned so readily.
The story had a satisfactory ending. The girl finally realized they lacked the determination or discipline to modify their behavior, so she terminated their dating altogether and thus did not slip further into the abyss of immorality.
It really doesn’t matter what the temptation. In ten years as a bishop and high councilor, I have participated in several Church courts. I can testify to you that no one whose membership was on trial had stayed comfortably back from the edge of the cliff. Their fences, if indeed they had ever built them, were in a state of disrepair. With weakened safeguards and a mind full of fantasy, they danced to Satan’s tune until they stumbled over the edge.
We are here, you and I, to be tried, tested, and proven worthy to reenter our Father in Heaven’s kingdom. We are here, as was Christ, to overcome temptation and claim our crowns on high. While we may have forgotten all, we are not abandoned. We have the guidance of scriptures, the counsel of living prophets and other inspired leaders, and, for those baptized under the hands of the priesthood of God, the gift of the Holy Ghost.
The words of Paul to the Ephesians provide eloquent advice for you and me. Said he:
“Put on the whole armour of God, … that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.
“Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness;
“And your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace;
“Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked.
“And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God:
“Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all perseverance and supplication for all saints” (Eph. 6:11, 13–18).
I believe that one of Satan’s greatest tools is to get you and me to become content to take the average road—to lie a little, to cheat a little, to take a little advantage because it’s the sort of thing that seems so common. By this we are led, as Nephi said, “carefully down to hell” (2 Ne. 28:21).
My young brothers and sisters, I testify to you that Satan is very, very real. I have both felt and witnessed his great power, and it is a frightening thing. It is my further testimony that Christ lives and that he provides each of us the necessary knowledge to recognize sin and error.
I pray that I can have the wisdom to continue. I pray that my children can prepare their fences, and I pray that each of you can recognize those avenues which Satan is stalking in his search for your souls and that you can likewise prepare adequate defenses.
Jesus Christ is the source of our strength. You and I need that strength if we are to turn away from evil and return to our Father in Heaven.

Marriage affects how people live financially, socially, emotionally, and even spiritually.
Amy Byerly of Walpole, Massachusetts, was concerned about the lifestyle changes marriage brings. Talking with Bart, her soon-to-be husband, about her concerns lightened the burden. She also turned to the scriptures, and in Mosiah 2:41, she read: “I would desire that ye should consider on the blessed and happy state of those that keep the commandments of God. For behold, they are blessed in all things, both temporal and spiritual; and if they hold out faithful to the end they are received into heaven, that thereby they may dwell with God in a state of never-ending happiness. O remember, remember that these things are true; for the Lord God hath spoken it.”
“This scripture puts things into perspective for me,” Sister Byerly says. “Even if my lifestyle changed, I could still be happy if I was faithful. Also, it taught me that having an eternal family was much more important than all the fun things I did while I was single.”
Sister Byerly believed that Heavenly Father would help her in her marriage. “Knowing that God approved of our marriage helped me deal with any fears I had,” she says. “I knew I could be happy despite a lifestyle change.”

My daughter Norma says the following about the way Relief Society has been a blessing in her life: “When Darren and I were newly married and expecting our first baby, we were living in a small college town. We were both full-time students with very little income. Our nearest ward was in a town about 30 miles [48 km] away, and our only means of transportation was an old car that didn’t work most of the time. When the sisters in the ward discovered our circumstances, they immediately joined together to arrange for one of them to always give us a ride to and from church on Sundays and for other Church activities. Some of the sisters lived in other towns and drove 20 or 30 miles [32 to 48 km] out of their way just to pick us up. Additionally, many of the sisters would invite us to their homes for nice family dinners after church. No one ever made us feel like a burden to them. I will never forget the true love and charity that the Relief Society sisters extended to us during that short but challenging time in our lives.”4

“I know why they’re going to tear the old Bently place down,” Troy announced late one afternoon as night was starting to creep around us. “It’s because it’s haunted!” he said in a whisper.
“Everybody knows that,” Shane muttered, swallowing hard and glancing down the street toward the Bently house.
As long as I could remember, we had all been afraid of the old Bently house. Nobody had lived in it for years. Most of the windows were boarded up, the paint had peeled off, and the doors that were left sagged and squeaked on their hinges.
Dad said that he could remember when there had been tall oak trees, green lawn, and trimmed bushes all around the house. The oak trees were still there, standing like big bushy giants around the old house to guard it and keep snoopers away. But the lawn had been taken over by weeds, and the bushes were nothing but tangles. Every time I had to pass the Bently house, I shuddered and tried not to look as I sprinted past it.
“Do you figure any ghosts live there?” I asked, glancing first at Troy and Shane and then at Justin, who was sitting beside me.
“The place is packed with them,” Shane answered.
“Once, I walked up on the front porch and peeked in the window,” I bragged.
Troy, Shane, and Justin looked at me. I could tell that they didn’t believe me. “It was afternoon, though,” I explained, shrugging my shoulders, “and I was with my Uncle Dan. But it was still kind of scary.”
“What did you see, Jimmy?” Shane wanted to know.
“Nothing. It was too dark, and something started banging on the side of the house. I was halfway home in about three steps. I didn’t want to go back, even with Uncle Dan.”
“I wouldn’t just go up on the Bently porch,” Troy said in his cocky way. “I’d go right inside!”
We stared at Troy. He was the biggest kid in the neighborhood, the strongest and the bravest too. If anybody would dare go into the Bently house, Troy would.
“I would too,” Shane boasted.
I licked my lips and added, “Me too.”
We looked at Justin, waiting for him to make his brag. He just sat there, his eyes wide and his face looking a little white. He swallowed and rasped uneasily, “Mom and Dad told me to stay away from the Bently house.”
“Don’t blame your mom and dad,” Troy scoffed. “You’re just chicken.”
Justin shook his head. “I don’t believe in ghosts. My dad said that I could get hurt in there because it’s falling apart. And that’s why they’re going to tear it down—not because of ghosts.”
Troy jumped to his feet, stuck out his chest, and put on his toughest look. “Jimmy and Shane and I are going in there right now,” he said. “If you don’t come, you’re just chicken.”
I felt my heart flip-flop in my chest, and it felt like someone had sucked all my breath away. Mom and Dad had told me to stay away from the house too. I just didn’t know how to tell Troy and Shane that. I slowly got to my feet and stood next to Troy, and Shane followed me.
We looked at Justin, who was looking at the ground. For a long time he didn’t say anything. Finally he looked up and said, “I’m not afraid—well, maybe a little—but the main reason I’m not going is that Mom and Dad told me not to.”
Right then I was wishing that I could tell Troy and Shane that I couldn’t go either, for the same reason, but I didn’t have the nerve.
“You’re just a chicken!” Troy sneered at Justin. “But if you want to hang around with us any more, you’d better come with us.”
“You could get hurt in that old house,” Justin insisted.
Troy laughed, and Shane and I joined in. “What a chicken!” Shane gave Justin a little shove. “Go on home to your mommy so that nothing will get you.”
“Yeah,” I said, wishing that my mouth wasn’t so dry and my heart wasn’t beating so fast. “Go home and let your mom tuck you into bed.”
Leaving Justin standing there, the three of us started toward the Bently house. We laughed and bragged all the way, telling each other that we weren’t afraid of anything. But every time I laughed, I got a sick, sinking feeling in my stomach.
Outside the Bently house we stopped. Shadows were lurking everywhere, making strange, scary shapes.
“Do you think we ought to get a flashlight?” Shane asked. His voice cracked, and he coughed to cover it up.
“We don’t need a flashlight,” Troy muttered. “Flashlights are for sissies like Justin.”
I wanted a flashlight. I wanted one bad! But I didn’t want to be called a chicken, so I just looked over at Troy and asked, “How are we going to get in?”
“In back. Just to the side of the big oak tree, there’s a window that we can squeeze through. The boards have fallen off.”
We found the window that Troy had told us about, and we had to pull off two more boards to make a hole big enough to climb through. Shane and I helped Troy through first; then he helped pull us up into the house.
A few gray bars of light streaked across the room from cracks in the windows. It smelled musty, and when we moved, the boards under our feet creaked and groaned. And when we just stood still, the house made creaking, groaning noises all by itself.
“Well, we’re inside,” I squeaked. “Now we can say that we’ve been in the—”
“We’re not going to just stop here!” Troy broke off my sentence with contempt. “Just coming in the window’s nothing. We need to explore.”
“Shouldn’t we have a light, though?” I asked.
“Are you chicken like Justin?”
“Yeah,” Shane joined in, “are you chicken too?”
I shook my head—not that they could see it—and wished that I was with Justin.
“Let’s go,” Troy ordered.
We started shuffling forward. I could barely see Troy and Shane as we left the first room and tiptoed down a long, dark hall. Cobwebs brushed against my face, and dust filled my nose. Suddenly the flooring beneath our feet began to shudder. We all froze, not knowing which way to go. Then the floorboards buckled. Before we knew it, we were falling into a deep, dark hole with dust and boards tumbling about us. I heard somebody scream. It seemed like we were going to fall forever. Then my feet jarred against something solid, and I sprawled forward on my face.
I lay still, wondering if I was still alive. My arms felt like they’d been scraped half off, and my side burned like it had the time I fell off my skateboard onto the pavement. I was just getting ready to try to move, when I heard a groan.
“Oh, my arm!” someone whimpered. “My arm’s killing me. I can’t even move it.”
“Is that you, Troy?” I heard Shane ask.
The only answer from Troy was more moaning and groaning.
“Where are we?” I called out. “I can’t see anything.”
“Probably in the cellar,” Shane answered. “We shouldn’t have come into this creepy old house,” he sobbed. “I didn’t really want to come here. It’s all your fault, Troy. It was your great idea!”
Troy’s only answer was, “Oh, my arm. I think I broke my arm.”
“What are we going to do?” I asked, sitting up. I was sore, but I didn’t have any broken bones.
“I hope somebody finds us,” Shane whimpered.
“Who’s going to find us?” I snapped. “Nobody even knows we’re here.”
“Justin knows,” Shane said hopefully.
“But we sent him away,” I reminded him. “He won’t know we’re missing until tomorrow. Besides, after calling him a chicken, he won’t want to help us, anyway.”
Shane and I managed to get to our feet, and we started yelling, hoping that someone would hear us. But the sound seemed to stay down in the hole with us.
Finally we sat down quietly, breathing hard and staring into the blackness. Then we heard footsteps. They were faint at first, and I wondered if I was just hearing the creaky sounds of the house. Then they got louder and louder and closer and closer.
“What’s that?” Shane rasped.
“Can you hear it too?” I whispered.
Even Troy stopped his moaning as the footsteps came closer. Then a dim, yellowish light shone above us, and Justin called out, “Jimmy! Is that you?”
“Justin!” I started to breathe again. “How’d you find us?”
“I waited. When you didn’t come out, I ran home and got a flashlight.”
“Get us out of here,” Shane whimpered. “We’re stuck.”
“And Troy’s hurt,” I added. “He thinks that his arm’s broken.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll get help.”
It seemed like Justin was gone forever. But finally we heard voices. Justin’s dad was there, and so were Shane’s dad and Brother Richards and Rusty Hammond and my dad and Troy’s dad. They had ropes and a ladder and had us out of there almost before we knew it. Everybody was pretty sure that Troy’s arm was broken, so his dad hurried him off to the hospital.
That very night our dads boarded up the Bently house tighter than ever. Shane, Justin, and I just stood out by the curb and watched them work.
“I’m sorry for calling you a chicken,” Shane mumbled to Justin.
“Me, too,” I said.
Justin shrugged. “It’s OK.”
“No it isn’t,” I added. “We were wrong. We said that you were afraid because you wouldn’t go into the house with us, but we were the ones who were really afraid. At least I was. I was the real chicken.”
Justin stared at me, not quite understanding.
“I was afraid to say no. I knew that I wasn’t supposed to go into that old house, but I was afraid to tell Shane and Troy no. I was afraid that they would call me a chicken too. I was afraid to do what was right.”
Shane nodded his agreement.
I thought a moment. “I guess a lot of times it takes more courage not to do something than it takes to do it.” I smiled over at Justin. “Thanks for saving us. I don’t know what Troy or Shane think, but you can be my friend anytime.”

Then my husband graduated and found a job that took us to another state. I had lived in many parts of the United States, but this move left me feeling terribly out of place. Our new ward was in a fairly wealthy area. My husband and I had a lot of school debt and very few possessions. We drove an old car, our clothes were outdated, and our furniture was secondhand and mismatched. The disparity was painfully obvious to me.
It wasn’t that I coveted what others had. I simply couldn’t imagine that they could see me as a worthwhile person when I had so little.
As the months passed, I had great difficulty making friends in the ward. I had been fairly comfortable in our wards in college, but now I felt intimidated and isolated from the friends and family who valued me.
A very long year and a half passed. I felt more insecure and unaccepted than I had felt since being a teenager in junior high school. I gave up even trying to fit in.
Then a ward member named Julie, a sister whom I greatly admired, began reaching out to me. She was 10 years older than I, a woman of great faith, and respected by everyone. I couldn’t believe she really wanted to get to know me, but I was lonely enough to accept her invitation to go jogging with her and some of her friends each morning at a nearby track.
Every day, Julie arrived having just finished morning prayer and scripture study. She was always filled with enthusiasm about the gospel, the scriptures, and the insights that came to her as she read. Running with her was like going to a devotional or a seminary class. And she seemed genuinely interested in me; she listened without judgment to my frustrations and fears.
I found Julie’s enthusiasm irresistible. Following her example, I became dedicated to a program of regular, serious scripture study for the first time in seven years.
I began to feel the Spirit in my life on a daily basis, and I found that I was able to follow the Spirit in fulfilling my calling as a Beehive adviser. I also realized that even though I’d been physically present in the programs and meetings, I had been spiritually inactive for many years.
Then one day, I walked into church a little late. Julie was leading the music, as she did every week. I looked up at her face. Her smile was wonderful, radiant, somehow filled with light. She looked directly at me, and I was overcome with an overpowering sensation of warmth and peace and joy. I was surprised. I knew I was feeling the Spirit very strongly, but I didn’t understand what the feeling meant.
I pondered throughout Sunday School and sacrament meeting, all the time cherishing this feeling of great peace and joy. By the end of the meeting, I understood the reason for this witness. I realized that Julie, being filled with the Spirit, actively sought to convey the love of the Savior to the congregation by the light of her countenance (see Alma 5:14, 19).
And then, into my mind came the whispered words that changed my life: “You must learn to be like that.” I was stunned. Suddenly my perspective shifted. I was to learn to smile like that and to convey the love and kindness to others that Julie had extended to me. For the first time, I understood that if I had the love of Christ in my countenance, no one would care what my clothes looked like, or my car, or my house.
My life was very different after that. The next month I walked into homemaking meeting, where I had always felt hopelessly out of place; I looked around at the room full of faces as if for the first time. It seemed that everyone there was either my friend already or needed a friend. I saw no condescension or condemnation in anyone. Nor was I looking for it. I was looking outward for what I could give.
After that, I continued to mature in terms of my motivation and expectations. As I felt more and more of the Spirit in my life, I desired to have the strength and faith to do anything the Lord might ask.
About this time, I attended a fireside where Julie spoke; she talked a lot about prayer. I took her counsel to heart and decided to start praying morning and night with real sincerity. I got up earlier than before, scheduled 15 or 20 minutes just for prayer, and treated it as an appointment with the most important person in my life. I found that I could get answers and guidance in a way I never had before.
I began to study the Atonement intensively. And I studied the doctrine of the change of heart and the meaning of being born again. As I studied, I developed a profound reverence for the Savior, for the power of his atonement, and for its efficacy in saving me from all of my failings and weaknesses.
One day I read Mosiah 5:7–8: “Ye shall be called the children of Christ … ; for ye say that your hearts are changed through faith on his name; therefore, ye are born of him and have become his sons and his daughters.
“And under this head ye are made free, and there is no other head whereby ye can be made free.”
Now I understood the words made free. I was being released from so many personal fears, inadequacies, and negative feelings that it seemed as if tangible shackles were falling from my hands and feet. My posture changed as I began to see myself as a person who had every reason to stand tall. My children asked why I was smiling so much. My husband asked why we didn’t quarrel anymore. My mother and brothers simply asked, “What happened?”
I spent three years in that ward where I had initially felt so uncomfortable. My last 18 months were a wonderful, fulfilling time. Sometimes I faced difficult trials, but I also felt an assurance that the Lord was mindful of me and that the painful experiences were for my growth.
By the time I left that ward, I not only felt loved, I also felt trusted and honored by the members there. I had had many humbling, spiritual experiences as well as opportunities to serve, to speak, and to teach. The ward had become a cherished family.
Julie remains a dear friend. Her gift for radiating light continues to touch my life and the lives of many others. Her example showed me how to reach for the Savior, the source of the light. And this has given me the means to lift and love and comfort many people. I believe that if I continue to progress, someday, I, too, will be filled with his love and receive his image in my countenance.

I wish I could get in touch with the person whose letter was published in the September 1986 feedback section under the title “I wish I had a friend.” I had a very similar experience in my lifetime. When I was nine years old we moved from a ward where I had wonderful friends to a ward 30 miles away from my old one. I never fit in with the large crowd of kids my age in my new ward. I struggled along for nine years, never really quitting, but sometimes attending Mutual and Sunday School only half of the time.

But I consider myself a survivor. When I moved away to attend college I made a new beginning, and I did my best to be the “Marcy” in my student ward. I sought out those who sat alone or seemed shy, and I tried to be a friend to them. By doing this, I built up my own confidence and again found myself confident around anyone in our ward.

My story has a happy ending. I have since married in the temple and have had three children. If I could make contact with the writer of “I wish I had a friend,” maybe we could compare experiences and learn from each other and perhaps bring about a happy ending for this story, too.