Gospel Story Finder

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.

Mary Ann Stearns, step-daughter of Elder Parley P. Pratt, in her unpublished autobiography, relates an experience that her family had with the Prophet Joseph that also illustrates his great capacity for kindness. Returning from his mission to England with his family and a group of immigrants by way of St. Louis, Missouri the group was detained four weeks because of cold weather and the great chunks of ice that floated on the a!most frozen Mississippi River. When they finally did arrive in Nauvoo the anxiety of the Britons to see the Prophet Joseph was only exceeded by the anxiety of the Saints in Nauvoo concerning the safety of the immigrants. Thus Joseph and Hyrum and a large company of people were at the landing to greet the newcomers. Elder Pratt introduced the company to the two illustrious leaders and when all except the Pratts had disembarked and had gone to their homes, the Prophet came into the cabin of the boat where the Pratts were.
“After a cordial greeting, he took a seat and taking the little boys, Parley and Nathan, upon his knees, seemed much affected, Brother Pratt remarking, ‘We took away three children and have brought back five.’ Then Brother Joseph said, “Well, well, Brother Parley, you have returned bringing your sheaves with you,” the tears streaming down his face. Brother Pratt, seeing the general emotion this caused, said, ‘If you feel so bad about our coming home, I guess we will have to go back again,’ tears of joy filling his own eyes.”
Elder Pratt’s remark seemed to break the spell, smiles returned and joy continued to fill all their hearts. Then Joseph, arising, said, “Come, Brother Parley, bring your folks right up to my house; it is only a little way, and you can be more comfortable after your long journey.” Sister Pratt, very ill, was placed in a large comfortable chair and carried by Brother Hodge and others of Joseph’s bodyguards to the Prophet’s home where a really special evening was enjoyed by the entire family.

As anticipated, October 26 was a successful Sabbath and the highlight of the proselyting venture. Joseph and Sidney first preached to a large congregation at the Nickersons’, then took 12 converts into the waters of baptism, including Brother Nickerson’s two adult sons, Moses and Eleazer. That evening they “held a meeting for confirmation. We broke bread, laid on hands for the gift of the Holy Spirit. Had a good meeting, the Spirit was given in great power to some and the rest had great peace. May God carry on his work in this place till all shall know him. Amen.”

What if I left? When I first moved here, there were only two other young women in my branch. We became friends and I got to know them very well. But they stopped going to church.
One time I went to the temple, I saw the mission president. I told him about my friends and asked what I could do to help them return to the Church. He told me to stay where I was, be strong, and to pray for them.
Soon after that, I saw one of the girls, and I was so happy to see her. When I returned home that night, I prayed, and felt strongly that I definitely needed to stay right where I was and keep going to church, keep going to seminary, and keep being an example to my friends. What if I left and never came back and one of my friends returned to church? Who would be their friend and help them return? Things are easier when we do them together.
My name is Alyona, and I live in Kharkiv, Ukraine.

“All right, all you boys, there are lots of girls who would love to dance, so let’s get busy.” Our tour adviser looked directly at Jason and me and then turned on the record player again. A tropical breeze shuffled through leaves in a planter behind us on the hotel patio.
I had only just finished eighth grade and didn’t even know how to dance by myself, let alone ask a girl to do it with me.
“I guess we should go dance, Brad.” Jason was rolling up the embroidered sleeves of his “I’m-a-tourist-in-Mexico” shirt he had bought that afternoon.
“No, not me.”
“But Mr. Jarman said there are girls who want to dance, and anyway this is the last night of the tour and we’ll probably never see them again.” A sudden gust blew Jason’s hair across his eyes. Casually he pushed it back again.
This educational tour through Mexico had been sponsored by our school district, and up to now it had been a great experience. Why did they have to spoil it with a dance?
“Come on.” Jason stood me up. “You ask Joan, and I’ll ask Christie.” He buttoned his top shirt button, moved across the patio, and offered his hand. “Hey, Christie, would you like to dance?”
I stood back and watched in hopes of learning instantly the intricacies of social interaction.
Christie flipped her hair, “Gee, ah thanks, Jason, but not right now.”
“What about you, Joan?” he asked.
From my safe position behind the lines, I noticed Jason’s crooked-tooth smile. I saw my friend for the first time as those girls might be seeing him, and I guess overall he did look kind of unusual.
“I’d really like to dance, Jason, but I don’t like this song.”
He tugged at his gaudy new shirt. “Well, maybe later?”
The two embarrassed girls looked quickly at each other. “Oh, ah … we’re not feeling too well.”
After a moment he came back to me. “Listen, Brad, who should we ask next?”
I still couldn’t believe what Joan had said. “Not feeling well! She felt good enough to dance with Monroe a few minutes ago,” I complained to Jason.
“But he’s a senior in high school. We’re only eighth graders.”
“Ninth grade now,” I reminded. I followed him to the tile fountain in the center of the patio, where Stephanie LeBette stood. With her hand on her hip and her nose in the air, she might as well have been a water-spouting statue.
I realized what Jason was about to do even before he said, “Hey, Stephanie, how about a dance?”
“Jason, don’t …” I turned away with elaborate casualness. Stephanie broke her pose to smile disdainfully and glide haughtily away.
“Well, how about it? You want to dance?” Jason called after her.
“No gracias, señor.” She didn’t even bother to look back.
I pushed a ripple into the fountain pool. “I don’t get it, Jas. I thought girls liked to dance.”
“They do,” he assured. “Look, why don’t you ask Stephanie?”
“No way, not her. I don’t want to get turned down, too.”
With his square fingers Jason jarred the water again, contorting our shadowed reflections.
“Brad, if Stephanie doesn’t want to dance, it’s her problem not yours.”
“But if she said no, why keep asking her?”
“Why not?”
The director turned up the music again. Jason stepped closer to me to be heard. “Why should you let her decide how you are going to act?” He pushed his fingers through his hair again. “I’m going over there and ask some new girls. Want to come?”
I shook my head and sat on the tile rim. It felt cold in the evening. Jason walked away, stepping awkwardly to the beat.
As I think back on the incident, I realize that Jason is one of the few people I’ve ever known who acts toward people. Most of us react to them. He knew what he wanted and how he should behave. If Stephanie had refused me like that, I’d have either crawled off and buried myself in a Mexican pyramid, or said, “You’re not so neat yourself, you goat,” and maybe bitten her ankle or something.
I remember that evening as though I were a character in a cartoon, sitting by that cold fountain thinking but with nothing written in my thought bubble. If I were to fill it in now, I guess I’d write, “No one is more miserable than the dummy who always reacts.”
At that long-ago dance my center of confidence was outside myself, being kicked around that patio like an old can. If Christie had said, “You’re cold,” I’d have sneezed. If Monroe had said, “You’re hot,” I’d have sweated. My feelings toward the whole situation were totally dependent upon a few people who could decide if I were to be embarrassed or proud, rude or gracious, introverted or extroverted. Unlike Jason, whose emotional security was rooted within himself, I had relinquished control of my own personality.
I’m thankful for that skinny, unkempt tourist friend and for the important principle he personified—to act and not to react—for in all the dances I’ve attended since that bomb-out in Mexico, not once have I bitten Stephanie LeBette’s ankle.

One day I sat with a handsome, young, prospective missionary as he poured out his sad story through sobs of sorrow, anguish, and remorse. I wanted to cry with him. Pressured by his so-called friends, he found himself at a mixed party where liquor was served. Against everything he knew to be right, he succumbed to the taunts and jeers of all those present, became drunk, and before the evening was over, lost his virtue.
Unable to resist the peer pressure he faced, his resolution to stay chaste being dissipated by the circumstances he found himself in, he had seen his lifelong dream of a mission and a temple marriage change to a nightmare—and now he felt ashamed, unclean, unworthy.
“Have I forfeited my opportunity for a mission, for marriage in the temple?” he asked. “How can my Father in Heaven forgive me for what I have done? I wish the earth would open up and swallow me!” My heart ached for him.
Almost overriding my sympathy for him was the anger I felt toward those who had led him down that “primrose path,” seemingly oblivious to the pain they had caused, listening to Satan’s siren song that chastity is outdated.
“Thou shalt not commit adultery,” Jehovah commanded, “and he that committeth adultery, and repenteth not, shall be cast out.” (D&C 42:24.)
My beloved young brethren, despite what the world would have us believe, God has never changed that law.
The First Presidency of the Church, in another time of moral crisis, declared:
“To the youth of the Church we … plead with you to live clean, for the unclean life leads only to suffering, misery, and woe physically,—and spiritually it is the path to destruction. How glorious and near to the angels is youth that is clean. … Sexual purity is youth’s most precious possession; it is the foundation of all righteousness. …
“Times approach when we shall need all the health, strength, and spiritual power we can get to bear the afflictions that will come upon us.” (In James R. Clark, comp., Messages of the First Presidency of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 6 vols., Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1965–75, 6:150.)
“You youths of Zion, you cannot associate in non-marital, illicit sex relationships, which is fornication, and escape the punishments and the judgments which the Lord has declared against this sin. The day of reckoning will come just as certainly as night follows day.” (In Messages of the First Presidency, 6:176.)
The full force of his actions was obvious to my tearful friend, who understood, at last, the reality of Alma’s words: “Wickedness never was happiness.” (Alma 41:10.)
As I shared those sad moments with that sorrowing young man, I could not help contrasting his feelings with those of another whose sealing I had performed in the house of the Lord.
There, in the presence of their families, the happy couple expressed their joy at the solemn covenants they had made with God and with each other as they knelt at that sacred altar, looking into each other’s souls with complete trust and confidence, approaching their marriage clean and worthy of the celestial blessings pronounced on their heads.
Their happiness was unrestrained.

At the community pool I looked in the lost and found for a missing piece to my goggles. I didn’t find the piece, but I saw a mermaid doll. I thought it was mine, so I took it. When I got home I found another mermaid doll in my room. I knew the one I had found at the pool was not mine. I could have kept both, but I wanted the person who had lost the doll to find it. We returned the extra doll to the pool. I know that I chose the right thing to do, and it made me feel happy to help someone else.

As a teenager I went to visit my aunt in 1991. During my stay she introduced me to the full-time missionaries, and I met with them a few times in my aunt’s home. They asked me if I wanted to learn more about the gospel, but I told them I wasn’t interested.
I returned home to Costa Rica, only to have missionaries visit me there. (My aunt had given them my address.) I still didn’t have any interest in their message, so I asked them to leave.
Four years passed. I was dating a woman with whom I had been friends for many years, and our relationship progressed to engagement. As I thought about our future together, my heart turned to things of a spiritual nature, and I told my fiancée that I wanted to know God. We decided that I would attend church with her to learn about Him. In the meantime I prayed privately to God for opportunities to come to know Him.
During this period of searching, missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saint again knocked on my door. Frustrated that they had returned, I told them to go away, and then I shut the door. But at that very moment, a thought struck me: “You’ve been praying to know God. What if these men have some answers for you?”
I opened the door again and called after the elders. I invited them to come in and teach me.
I quickly discovered the power of the truths they taught, and I embraced the restored gospel. Three weeks later, on March 12, 1995, I was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
My girlfriend was not pleased with my decision. One night about three months later, she told me that I had to choose between her and the Church. What a painful decision! After a lot of pondering and deliberating, I chose the Church.
I felt that I had made the right decision, but the months following our breakup were a dark time in my life. Nevertheless, I found hope in living my newfound religion, especially in coming to know my Heavenly Father, as I had prayed to do.
A year after my baptism, I left for a full-time mission in Nicaragua. My service there brought me great joy, and my knowledge of and love for my Heavenly Father grew. Several months after I returned from Nicaragua, I met Lili, the woman who would later become my wife.
Making the gospel a priority in our lives isn’t always easy. The decisions I made were difficult ones. But I learned then—and have continued to learn since—that whenever we make sacrifices to know our Heavenly Father, He will reveal His will for us and our lives. The happiness that comes from following His plan and His commandments is always worth the effort.

One day I was running the mile in PE. As I ran, I saw something shiny in the dirt. I picked it up. It was a beautiful ring with shiny diamonds on top and swirls of silver. Someone must have dropped it when they were running, I thought. After I finished my mile, I walked around asking the girls if it was theirs.
“No, but I wish it was mine,” said Natalie. “It is very pretty.”
All of the girls said it wasn’t theirs.
As we walked back to our classroom, I showed the ring to my friend Clayton.
“Wow,” Clayton said. “You should sell it. You could get lots of money.”
“I’m not going to sell it,” I said. “Whoever lost it is probably devastated.”
“You are too kindhearted, Tyden.”
Am I too kindhearted? I decided to ignore that thought and go with my gut feeling.
After class I went to the school’s main office to tell the secretary. “Ms. Tracy, I found this ring outside. Has anyone asked about a missing ring?” I asked.
“No, but I’ll put it in the lost-and-found box,” said Ms. Tracy. “I’ll make sure to ask the teachers if they lost any of their rings.”
I gave her the ring and left. I felt a warm feeling. Even if the owner doesn’t find it, I know I did the right thing.

I started my freshman year at college, and everything was going great. Great, that is, until an all-too-familiar feeling of my personal shortcomings began to settle in my stomach. My second-oldest brother, who was not only co-captain of my college team but also my roommate, had just come home from the mission field. He told extraordinary stories about living in England and preaching the gospel.
I read letters from the mission presidents of both of my older brothers describing what a good missionary “Elder Bennett” was and how blessed they would be because of their obedience and faith. Again, I began feeling inadequate. How could I ever measure up to their high level of missionary success? Although my body had grown several inches taller and my muscles had doubled in size, my testimony had not grown proportionately.
I confided in my brother and roommate, “What can I do to prepare to be a great missionary like you were? How can I change people’s lives like you did?” Again I received simple counsel. “Do the things that great missionaries do. Be nice to people, read your scriptures, and pray daily.”
I took the advice to heart and could feel my spiritual growth begin to catch up with my physical body.

Lynda tried to incorporate the values of the people she admired into her new life in creative ways. Preserving food became for her a symbol of self-sufficiency, so when she couldn’t get fresh fruits and vegetables in the city, she made a list of all the things she remembered her mother and grandmothers putting into bottles and made quilt blocks representing many of those things. As she stitched, Lynda created a tribute to her pioneer ancestors and a family history for her children to enjoy. She also taught her family independence, hard work, self-reliance, the law of the harvest, and self-confidence in a new environment.

Emily burst through the front door in tears. She dropped her bag on the floor and ran to her room. Mom followed her and knocked on the bedroom door. “Em, can I come in?” she asked.
Emily answered with a quiet “yes,” and Mom opened the door.
“Is everything OK, honey?” Mom asked.
“Nothing is OK!” Emily said. “You won’t believe what happened today. Jenny handed out her birthday party invitations after school, and I was the only girl in our class who wasn’t invited. I feel horrible. I am so mad at Jenny.”
“I can imagine how that would feel,” Mom said. “What do you think you should do?”
“I’m never speaking to her again. Not in a million years,” Emily sobbed.
Mom put her arms around Emily and stroked her hair. “Do you think that is the best thing to do?” she asked.
“I don’t care,” Emily moaned. “Jenny is so mean.”
The next morning at breakfast, Emily slumped into her seat at the table. She pushed her food around the plate with her fork.
“Emily, Mom told me you didn’t get an invitation to Jenny’s party. Is that what’s bothering you?” Dad asked.
“You wouldn’t understand,” Emily said.
“Try me,” Dad said.
“It’s just that my feelings are hurt. It’s embarrassing to be left out.”
“I do understand, Em,” Dad said. “But remember that we can feel better when we forgive others. Jesus forgave everyone who offended Him. Try to forgive, and then let it go. It’s what Jesus would want you to do.”
Emily walked to school with her friend Lucy. Lucy talked about Jenny’s upcoming party all the way to school. Emily listened quietly, too embarrassed to tell her friend that she hadn’t been invited. At recess, all of the girls in Emily’s class huddled together and talked excitedly about the party. Emily wandered away from the group and sat by herself on the swings. She glared at everyone. She felt very alone.
During gym class, Emily’s friend Gina, who usually picked her first when choosing teams, chose Jenny first instead. Emily was the last to be picked. She could hardly hold back the tears, and her stomach began to hurt. She asked the teacher if she could be excused from class to go to the nurse’s office.
Later, as Emily waited for her mother to pick her up from school, she thought about what her father had said about forgiveness, and about how Jesus had forgiven everyone who had hurt or offended Him. But Emily couldn’t do that. She couldn’t forgive Jenny for making her feel this way.
Emily and Mom rode home in silence. When Mom pulled into the garage, Emily jumped out of the car and ran to her room. She stared out the window until Mom called her for dinner.
At dinner, Emily’s brother Jack talked eagerly about his day at preschool. Emily’s dad told a funny story he heard at work. Emily sat in silence, staring down at her plate. After dinner, Mom announced, “We’ll be having family home evening now.”
“But, Mom, it’s Thursday. We had family home evening on Monday,” Emily said.
“It’s an emergency session to help you with what’s been bothering you,” Mom said, smiling.
The family gathered in the living room. They sang “Help Me, Dear Father,”* and Jack said the opening prayer. Then Mom left the room and returned with four helium-filled balloons. Each balloon was attached to a colorful ribbon. Mom handed a balloon and a marker to each member of the family.
“Tonight we’re going to learn about letting go of hurt feelings,” Mom said. “I want each of you to write on your balloon things that others have done that hurt your feelings. Write down anything that is keeping you from feeling love for someone.”
After thinking for a minute, Dad began writing. Mom helped Jack write on his balloon, and then began working on her own.
Emily wrote things that were easy for her to forgive: Jack jumping on her bed, Gina losing her favorite pen. Then Emily paused. There was one thing that seemed too hard to forgive. Could she really forgive Jenny and still be her friend? Emily thought about the words of the song they had just sung: “Help me, dear Father, to freely forgive, all who may seem unkind to me.”
Emily sat quietly for a moment. Then she slowly wrote on her balloon, “Jenny didn’t invite me to her party.”
When everyone had finished, Mom said, “Now let’s say a prayer in our hearts asking Heavenly Father to help us forgive the people who have hurt our feelings. Let’s also ask Him to forgive us for things we have done that hurt others.”
As Emily finished her prayer, a feeling of warmth washed over her.
Emily smiled as they all let go of their balloons. The balloons drifted upward and bounced gently against the ceiling. Emily laughed and joked with her family as they shared a dessert and cleaned up together.
That night, as Emily climbed into bed, Mom and Dad sat down next to her. She smiled up at her parents.
“It looks like you’re feeling better,” Dad said.
“I feel good,” Emily said. “I’m still sad that I won’t be at the party with all of my friends, but I’m not angry at Jenny anymore. I know that Heavenly Father loves her just like He loves me, even though we both sometimes do things that hurt others. I think forgiveness is Heavenly Father’s way of helping us learn to love each other the way He loves us.”

My great-grandparents buried a child on the trail from Far West, when they were driven to Nauvoo, and another at Winter Quarters, when they were driven west.

Another great-grandmother, a teenager, was pushing a handcart along the south banks of the Platte River. They sang:
We’ll find the place which God for us prepared,
Far away in the West,
Where none shall come to hurt or make afraid;
There the Saints will be blessed.

Across the river they could see the sun glinting on the weapons of the soldiers of the army.

In St. Louis my great-grandmother bought a little enameled pin of the American flag. She wore it on her dress for the rest of her life.

With one of my daughters, I was baptized a member of the Church on 25 July 1993. One of my other daughters, however, listened to the missionary discussions with us but was not baptized. She later took the discussions again but still was not baptized. I eventually decided to give her a subscription to the Liahona (Spanish). This added help opened the way for the Spirit to witness to her, and a few months later she was converted. Now I wait eagerly for the messages that inspire and uplift the spirit.
Mireya Josefina Almea de Rodriguez,Bolívar Branch, Barcelona Venezuela Stake

In later years my friend Clarice had permission to practice on the organ. I would go with her early in the morning before school or late at night. She would sit up on the high bench and the music would roll out. I’d sit on one of the back benches and listen, and Brother Yearsley, the janitor, would patiently wait for us. Often he would be polishing the old benches until the woodwork fairly glowed. Then when we were finished, he’d lock up after us.
Brother Yearsley was a remarkable man. He was blind. His wife helped him a lot, and they kept that building as clean and neat “as if,” he used to say, “the Lord might really visit us and sit on these benches and walk on these floors.” He taught us to love the house of the Lord. He taught us respect for every polished bench and every hall and classroom.
One evening we were having a party in the “rec room” downstairs. We had been playing games, drinking punch, and eating cupcakes. The party was just at its height with noise and jollity when the electric power failed all over the valley. It was dark down there, and everyone was running this way and that trying to get out. We were knocking into chairs, running into doors, and upsetting food. Suddenly Brother Yearsley was there. “Quiet!” he said in a voice loud enough for all of us to hear him.
“We can’t see, Brother Yearsley,” we chorused. “We don’t know how to get out. Do you have a light?”
Brother Yearsley stood still in the doorway and answered, “Yes, I have a light, so settle down. Now each one of you just take the hand of the one next to you, get in line, and we’ll go upstairs together. Follow me.”
I almost said, “But you can’t see either.” And then I realized he had been going about that building doing our Father’s business for years without eyes to guide him. And that was the light he meant that he had.
We were quiet as he led us, saying, “There is a step here. Now we turn right. Watch your feet. Don’t kick against the walls. We must love the Lord’s house.”
And we surely did—that night and ever after.

As they worked and served together, the feeling in the Eagle Valley Ward changed. Sadness faded as they found joy in service.
A few years ago, the Eagle Valley Ward in Colorado, USA, experienced many trials of faith. Multiple members of the ward were dying, and their families needed strength and support. The ward could have been overshadowed by feelings of sadness but instead found joy in ministering.
“We were carried through by serving others,” said Karie Grayson, the Relief Society president at the time. One day, while visiting the home of an ill sister, Sister Grayson received a revelation on how to uplift this sister with the love of her ward.
“As my presidency and I sat there in the room visiting with her, we were each thinking, ‘What more can we do?’” said Sister Grayson. “An idea came to me. I knew right then and there what we should do.”
This sister loved flowers, so the ward brought life to her overgrown flower garden. Every Tuesday morning, members of the ward showed up to care for the garden.
Excitement to serve grew not only in the Eagle Valley Ward but also in the community. Individuals and companies throughout the area helped provide dirt, flowers, and a watering system.
“I feel like what we did was directed by Heavenly Father,” said Sister Grayson “There was a lot of work to be done, but there was a lot of laughter with everybody together. It was so fun.”
As they worked and served together, the feeling in the Eagle Valley Ward changed. Sadness faded as they found joy in service.
Bishop Greg Adair said, “As we all participated together, the ward started to feel like a family. This period of time was a trial for our ward, but we came together and helped one another.”
Sister Grayson said the ward bonded through service not because they had to but because they wanted to. And as they did, they found healing in their own struggles. “There was a powerful feeling in the ward,” she said. “When you change the hearts of individuals in the ward, you change the heart of the ward.”
Members of the Eagle Valley Ward were “willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light … and comfort those that stand in need of comfort” (Mosiah 18:8–9).
“Serving together brings you closer,” said Bishop Adair. “It was easy to minister because we all knew each other well. Christ teaches us to love God and our neighbor, and as we try to do whatever calling we are asked to do, we knit ourselves together in love.”

In 2019, one of my closest friends invited me to join a discussion with the missionaries when they were teaching his little sister. I turned down the offer many times because they were learning outdoors—I didn’t want to have others see I was learning with the missionaries. My friend then said, “Today we will go inside,” to which I agreed.

During our first meeting, we discussed the first principle in the first lesson. Everything they were saying I agreed with, such as “God is your loving Heavenly Father, He knows you personally,” and other things like that. The problem came when the missionaries said, “God has a body of flesh and bone that is perfect.” My friend’s little sister agreed, but I did not. They tried to help me, but I refused to change my view. Before the lesson ended, they invited me to read, pray, and come to Church. I accepted their invitation.

They then gave me an example that, “if I were selling TVs and there is one customer that wants to come and buy a certain TV but doesn’t have money at the moment, the customer might ask if I can keep the TV till tomorrow when she would come and then be able to buy. She would always repeat the same statement every day for months without purchasing the TV. And then another customer comes with money. Will you sell the TV to the second customer?” I replied, “No, I will keep the TV for the first customer.” Later, I changed my mind and said, “I will sell it to the second customer.” The missionaries then told me that it’s just the same with them. If I do not keep the commitments, they will stop coming to me and focus on other people who are keeping commitments.

When I heard these words, my desire to learn the restored gospel was triggered. “Why do they want me to learn this gospel so much?” I asked myself. After the first meeting, my friend asked me, “Why were you making this lesson hard to understand?” He continued, “Just give them time and listen to them.”

My friend’s little sister heeded the missionaries during the lesson. I then recognized that I was not humble enough. From that day I humbled myself to the missionaries because of my good friend and his little sister.

I tried to keep the commitments. The days I still remember vividly are, first, a day I was asked to study 3 Nephi 11:1–17. In our next appointment they asked what I learned from the chapter, I then recited most of the verses I had read. Second, one day I was invited to attend a baptismal service. On the morning of the baptismal service, I was busy playing video games with my friends and when I realized that I was short on time I ran to the chapel that was about a mile away. “We thought you were not coming,” the missionaries said when they saw me. I never missed the sacrament because of the example the sister missionaries gave to me. It was a good time to learn the restored gospel with the sister missionaries.

A mother overheard her son, four, tell his brother, six, “I don’t believe in Jesus.” The brother responded, “You have really hurt my feelings.” Sensing a need, the mother reinforced the younger boy’s understanding of the Savior. She placed a picture of the Redeemer in his room and continued to teach all of her children more about the Master. Sometime later, the younger son commented, “Mom, you’re my best friend—next to Jesus.”

I am a returned missionary. I am also a soldier in the United States Army serving a second tour of duty in Iraq. Between my mission and my military service, I have seen people both at their best and at their worst. I’m grateful for all the experiences I’ve had, but I’m grateful I could serve a mission first. It prepared me for military service in some surprising ways.
One of the first things I learned on my mission was how to talk with other people. When I attended high school, I was shy and unsure of myself. I felt uncomfortable around strangers and uneasy in crowds. I found it hard to strike up conversations with people and often wouldn’t try. Serving in the México Mérida Mission helped get me out of my comfort zone. I slowly realized that people are easy to talk to if I put forth the effort. I soon found it easy to speak with strangers, and I had my heart touched by many people with whom I met and talked. When I joined the army, I took with me what I had gained on my mission—the ability to communicate.
Communication is imperative in the army. I am a flight crew chief on Black Hawk helicopters, in charge of the defense and security of aircraft and aiding pilots in their side vision. The lives of the pilots, passengers, and my own life often rely on my communication skills. It was on my mission that I learned to be open and to communicate effectively.
Another thing I learned on my mission was humility. When I was growing up, I had everything I needed. I never had to worry about food, shelter, or the clothes on my back. In contrast, my mission area was on the Yucatán Peninsula, and life was very simple there. Not having the luxuries I had grown accustomed to all my life was extremely humbling.
As anyone who has served in the military knows, a soldier must place himself second to the safety of his fellow soldiers and the preservation of his country. I look back on my mission now and thank my Heavenly Father for allowing me to be humbled in preparation for serving my country.
As a soldier at war, you give up every luxury of home. The men and women I served with gave up their warm beds, dry socks, and daily showers. When I am deployed, not a day goes by that I don’t appreciate all the blessings I have waiting for me at home.
Perhaps the greatest way my mission prepared me for military service was what it taught me about the power of example. While serving with the 101st Airborne Division, I have come to realize how powerful a good example can be to those with whom I serve. People say they never hear me use profanity or see me drink alcohol or view pornography. A lot of the guys in my unit have asked me why I won’t participate in those activities and have questioned me about the Church and what it teaches. I always explain my values, telling them my religion teaches me that certain things are bad for me and to abstain from them. Knowing that others are noticing my actions helps me strive to be a good example of what a Latter-day Saint should be.
Finally, on my mission I learned to have faith in Heavenly Father. I learned to pray to Him for strength. There were days during my mission when I felt frustrated and wanted to give up. I would pray for strength to get through the day. Learning to deal with my frustrations by relying on the Lord has helped me get through many tough situations in Iraq.
There is a saying in the army: “Drink water, and drive on.” To me that means, no matter what happens, one must persevere. In the scriptures, this is called enduring to the end. I have learned that I need to continually have faith, read my scriptures, and pray for guidance to get me through tough times. I have learned that the Lord is in control and is looking out for me, so I try to focus on my job. Living with Heavenly Father’s guidance has helped me realize how true the gospel is. My faith is a great source of strength in helping me cope with being deployed in a war zone.
In these and other ways my mission experiences in Mexico help me survive and thrive in the army. I always remember my Book of Mormon hero, Moroni. He served in wars and saw death and destruction, yet he remained a true and faithful servant of the Lord. I find great comfort in knowing that even during the darkest of times you can be at your best.

The Lord’s work began for Walter immediately after his baptism in 1950. His parents and brother and sister had returned to Germany with plans for Walter to rejoin them after he sold the family farm in Santa Catarina. But when World War II broke out, Walter stayed in Brazil, and in 1946, he married Edith Altman, a Swiss immigrant. They moved to São Paulo, where Walter worked as a furniture maker and where the question of religion soon arose in their home.

Edith attended church services regularly, but Walter refused to accompany her. He would become a dedicated member of a church only when he could find the true church, he said. He had a feeling such a thing existed. So after Walter left for work every morning, Edith would kneel and ask God to show them the true church. Five months later, in November 1949, American missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints knocked on their door.

For five months Walter studied with the missionaries, read the scriptures, and attended Church meetings. He gradually became convinced that this was the true Church, and on 20 March 1950, Walter Spät was baptized. Edith joined the Church in October of the same year. Having been a member of a strict Protestant denomination, she had difficulty accepting certain aspects of LDS life, particularly dances held in the church building. “Only after I read the Book of Mormon several years after my baptism,” she says, “was I truly convinced that this was the Lord’s church.”