Gospel Story Finder

It was cold! Nicole and her friends hurried into the busy café to warm up for a few minutes. As they stood inside, Nicole glanced at the menu.
“I’m going to get some hot chocolate,” she said.
“Me too,” Beth said.
Audrey looked at her watch, and Heather said, “We don’t have much time. Remember, my mom is picking us up at two o’clock.”
Nicole looked at the long line. It would sure be nice to have a cup of hot chocolate to keep her warm while they finished their Christmas shopping. “Beth and I will meet you in the clothing store next door,” she told Heather. “We won’t take long.”
Heather and Audrey left, and Beth and Nicole got in line.
“Look, they have French vanilla,” Beth said, pointing at the menu.
Nicole’s eyes brightened. “Yum! I love French vanilla hot chocolate.” But then she frowned, a little uncertain. “It doesn’t say French vanilla hot chocolate,” she said. “It just says French vanilla.” She bit her lip. “Isn’t there a French vanilla coffee too?”
Beth shrugged. When it was Nicole’s turn to order, she asked the employee about it, just in case.
“It’s hot chocolate,” the lady behind the counter assured her.
“Great!” Nicole said. “I’ll have a large French vanilla.”
Beth ordered one too, and they left the café. When they met up with Heather and Audrey, Nicole sniffed her steaming cup. She gasped. “I think this is French vanilla coffee!”
Beth took a sip. “I think so too. But oh well. It’s nice and hot. I’m getting all warmed up.”
“But it’s coffee!”
“So?”
Nicole told her friend, “I belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I’m not supposed to drink coffee.”
“You can drink coffee this one time,” Heather said impatiently. “You don’t have to be perfect every second of the day. We won’t tell anyone. Just come on. We need to hurry.”
Nicole could see that the line in the café was now even longer, and they didn’t have much time left to shop. But she knew what she needed to do. “I’m going to exchange this for hot chocolate,” she said firmly. “You guys go ahead. I’ll meet you at the toy store.”
She started to walk away alone, but Audrey caught up to her. “I’ll wait with you,” she said. Audrey was a Latter-day Saint too.
As the girls stood in line, Audrey said, “I’m glad you didn’t drink the coffee.”
Nicole smiled. “Me too.”
When Nicole explained to the lady behind the counter that the drink was actually coffee, the lady apologized and exchanged it for hot chocolate. Then Nicole and Audrey hurried through the cold to catch up with their friends. Nicole felt warm inside, but not just from the hot chocolate. She knew she had chosen the right. Despite what her friends had said about no one ever knowing, Heavenly Father knew. And she felt He would be proud of her.

I am reminded of an experience I had several years ago while serving as bishop. I learned from my counselors at one point that an elderly sister had declined a calling in the ward. Sensing that something was amiss with this stalwart and faithful woman, I made an appointment to go to her home to speak with her. When I got there, she and her husband were both present.

After a little polite conversation I said that I understood that she had not felt comfortable in accepting a ward calling and asked what I could do to help. Both of them stared at the floor a long, long time before she answered. At last she spoke to explain that 50 years earlier, before they had been married, they had been intimate with one another and had been too ashamed to clear this up with the bishop before being married in the temple. For all of these years they had lived under the guilty burden of this transgression while paying generous tithes and offerings, serving faithfully in responsible Church callings, rearing a family in the faith, and sending children on missions.

Though they were faithful, they were not whole. They were kept from the peace and contentment that should have been theirs in golden years by clouds of self-doubt and the tarnished memory of unresolved transgression. Outwardly they seemed secure and serene. Inwardly they were carrying a kind of damage and hurt that intruded on their spiritual confidence. Together they had suffered this awful alienation from the Lord for a long time.

I don’t know why their ordeal lasted a lifetime. I only know when it ended as the Lord lifted them from their lonely lamentations. As I tearfully listened to their story, I prayed earnestly to know what I might do to relieve them. When they finished speaking I felt impressed to say simply: “It is over. You have suffered long enough. I am sure the Lord has forgiven you. Repentance consists of forsaking a sin and confessing. You forsook that guilty act long, long ago. Tonight you also confessed. Now you are free. I feel certain that the Lord has forgotten your transgression and is eager to dispel your guilt with redeeming grace.”

After kneeling in prayer together we three stood encircled in one another’s arms as they sobbed out the last of their pent-up suffering and anguish.

“Oh, Bishop, is it really over?” they asked.

I assured them that it was.

The loving kindness and the grace of the Savior poured into their lives in sweet forgiving. He reached past the things that separated them from him and embraced them in sweet communion.

A few years later, I received a very special phone call at home. It was President Hinckley. He said, “Brother Richards, you are called to the Second Quorum of the Seventy. You are in for a wonderful experience. May the Lord bless you.”
After I hung up the telephone, I realized that President Hinckley had not asked me whether or not I would accept the call to serve. But he had not needed to ask me because I had already decided as a young boy that I would always follow the Lord’s prophet.

For a while when he was 14, Aleksey Kulikov was a man without a country.
Though his mother was from St. Petersburg, she had taken work in Nuremberg, Germany. While there, she and Aleksey met the missionaries, studied the gospel, were baptized, and became active Latter-day Saints.
Now they had to leave Germany. The government said noncitizens on work visas must return to their homelands. To make matters worse, Aleksey and his mother were told their papers were no longer valid in Russia.
“Officially,” Aleksey explains, “we had no citizenship anywhere.”
Things seemed pretty dark, but Aleksey and his mother knew about faith.
“I remembered what the missionaries taught me,” Aleksey says. “If you have problems, then pray about them. So we asked Heavenly Father to bless us.”
From then on, the trip became easier. “We found out we did have Russian citizenship. When officials found out we were carrying all we owned, they waived the luggage restriction. At the Lithuanian border, some kind soldiers took pity on us and kept us from being forced off the train. They even called ahead to the next border and asked them to let us pass. So we came without trouble to St. Petersburg.”
After six years, they were home. But what would the city be like, now that the Soviet Union was gone? What would the Church be like, compared with their wonderful friends in Nuremberg?
“We were delighted with what we found,” Aleksey remembers. “The city had a happier feeling. Some beautiful buildings were being renovated. But best of all, we found there is a new dawn of the Church in St. Petersburg. We knew the gospel had been restored, but now we know it’s been restored here too.”
Aleksey is now 17, a member of the Nevsky Branch. His greatest desire is to serve a full-time mission, “perhaps in Germany.” But it doesn’t matter where he’s called. “I know there’s gospel light to share wherever you go,” he says.

The first Christmas after my baptism, I felt that I would like to do something nice for someone in need. Since I had made most of my gifts, I thought I might be able to share some of the money I had saved. I hoped I had enough to buy someone a nice Christmas dinner.
Three days before Christmas I counted my money. I had $20. I asked my mom to ask the bishop what would be the best way to donate the money. He said there were families right in our area that needed help. The next day my dad and I walked to the bishop’s house. I had a special feeling inside as I handed him the money. I knew it was the Holy Ghost telling me that I was doing what Jesus wanted me to do.
On Christmas Eve my family enjoyed a delicious Christmas dinner. I had a big smile on my face, and my mom asked me what I was thinking about. I told her I was thinking about the family who got my donation. I was hoping that they were having a merry Christmas. The happy feeling I got from giving to a family I didn’t even know was better than any present I received. I will keep trying to follow the Savior.

Zach knew he wasn’t supposed to use that word. But so many boys at school said it that he had started using it too. At first he felt guilty, but after a while it started to feel normal. He got so used to saying the word that one day he said it at home.
“What was that?” his dad said after the word slipped out. Zach and Dad had been playing basketball in the driveway, but suddenly Dad was holding the ball and looking at Zach.
“Oh, nothing, Dad,” Zach said. “It’s just something the kids at school say sometimes. It’s not a big deal.”
“Hmm …” Dad wasn’t convinced. He shook his head and passed the ball to Zach.
“But everyone says it!” Zach said. “And other words are a lot worse!”
“I’m sure that’s true,” Dad said. “But just because a whole bunch of people say or do something, does that make it right?”
“Well, no,” Zach answered, looking down at the ball.
“Here’s a question that might help you decide if using that word is right,” Dad said. “Do you feel like you have the Holy Ghost with you when you say it?”
Zach’s family often talked about living so they could have the Holy Ghost to help them. Zach knew that when he made good choices, the Holy Ghost would guide him and he would feel good about his choices. But when he made bad choices, the Holy Ghost could not stay with him.
“Not really,” Zach said. “When I first said it, I felt guilty, but that feeling went away after a while.”
“That feeling was the Holy Ghost speaking to you,” Dad said. “When we don’t listen, we are tuning Him out.”
“I’ll try to do better,” Zach said.
“I think that’s a good decision, buddy,” Dad said as he took the ball and tossed it into the hoop. “What do you say we go inside for some ice cream? I’m beat!”
“OK!” Zach said as he scooped up the ball and took one last shot.
The next day at school, Zach was on the basketball court with his friends. They were running down the court when Zach’s friend Bryan used a word Zach knew wasn’t a good word. All the other boys laughed, but Zach didn’t.
“What’s wrong?” Bryan asked.
“Nothing,” Zach said as Bryan passed the ball to him. He hoped Bryan and the others wouldn’t make fun of him. “I’ve just decided I’m not going to talk like that any more.” Then he shot the basketball right through the hoop.
“What did you say?” Jeremy asked as he walked over.
“I just think I’ve been talking in a way that isn’t right,” Zach said. “I know better. So I decided last night that I’m only going to use words that make me feel good inside.”
The boys looked at each other. “OK, that’s cool,” Bryan said. Then the bell rang to go inside.
As they headed into class, Jeremy said to Zach, “You know, I’ve been thinking the same thing, but I didn’t want to say anything. Thanks for bringing it up.”
Zach nodded and smiled. He felt good, and he knew that feeling was from the Holy Ghost. He was glad he’d had the courage to choose the right.

An example of our two emotional extremes occurred two years ago. As part of an outing, a group of Latter-day Saint Boy Scouts entered an abandoned mine in the mountains not far from here. Somehow, young Joshua Dennis was separated from the group and became lost in the mine. Anyone who has ever lost something valuable will remember that terrible feeling. The pain is most extreme when we have lost a loved one. Joshua’s family and friends feared their loss might be permanent.

Search efforts were organized. For days, many good people dropped everything they were doing to search for the one who was lost. Many shared the pain of his loss. Then, miraculously, he was found. Prayers were answered, and the mercy of a loving Heavenly Father was manifest in the happiness of family and friends reunited with the one who was lost. The pain of loss turned to the overwhelming joy of reunion. (See "Hidden Treasure," Ensign, Aug. 1991, pp. 30–35.)

When I was in high school, I found it necessary to support myself. I suppose I was about sixteen, and I went to Globe, Arizona, the big mining camp, and there secured a job milking cows twice a day for a dairy. In those days we had no machines, and we milked with our hands. I milked between eighteen and twenty-eight cows twice a day, separated the cream, bottled the milk, washed the cans and bottles, fed the cattle, and cleaned the manure. For all of this, I received my meals, a cot in a bunkhouse, and $47.50 a month.
I was now on my own. No one was there to check up on me. When I received my first paycheck, I asked myself, “Should I or should I not pay my tithing?” I sent my dairy check home to the bank and received a receipt and a checkbook. I numbered the checks on the book and my first check was made out payable to the bishop.
The Lord has promised that if boys and girls and their parents are faithful in paying their tithing, he will pour out great blessings upon them. I know he keeps the promise.

Some years ago one of our sons asked me why it wasn’t a good idea to try alcohol or tobacco to see what it was like. He knew about the Word of Wisdom and he also knew the health effects of these substances, but he was questioning why he shouldn’t just try them out for himself. I replied that if he wanted to try something he ought to go out in the barnyard and eat a little manure. He recoiled in horror. “Ooh, that’s gross,” he reacted.

“I’m glad you think so,” I said, “but why don’t you just try it out so you will know for yourself? While you’re proposing to try one thing that you know is not good for you, why don’t you apply that principle to some others?” That illustration of the silliness of “trying it out for yourself’ proved persuasive for one sixteen-year-old.

As a boy of about 10, I didn’t feel like my prayers were really being answered. Finally I had enough courage to ask my father about it, and he explained that prayer was like a parachute that a pilot puts on when he flies an airplane. He doesn’t go up expecting to need to jump out of his airplane and use his parachute, but he puts it on every time so that when it’s really needed, he has it.
That was enough to help me in my young mind to continue my prayers and charge my spiritual battery. Also, as I watched my father use his priesthood, I gained courage and faith that I could someday do similar things. As time went on, I had experiences that taught me this principle was true. It has been important to continually charge that battery.

Four years later, Katie, one of my daughters-in-law, underwent an emergency C-section to deliver twin baby girls at 25 weeks of gestation, too close to the threshold of infant viability for comfort. When the girls were just eight weeks old, Katie was returning home late at night from her daily visit with them in the neonatal intensive care unit of the hospital and was hit and killed by a drunk driver, leaving my son a widower with six children.
My wife was everything to me, and my son’s wife was everything to him. Those were tough times for our family.
I didn’t fully appreciate how great Tanya was and how much I depended on her until she was gone. But we had knelt at an altar in a holy temple, and someone having the sealing power had pronounced blessings upon us. I have clung to the promise of those blessings. I trust in those promised blessings.
Tanya’s death was a crisis of faith for me. I had to decide, “Do I really believe?” Faith is called a gift of God, but it’s also a choice we make—a choice to believe. I chose to believe, and I found out that Moroni was correct when he wrote that we receive no witness until after the trial of our faith (see Ether 12:6). After the trial, the witness did come. My faith was rewarded with a confirming peace of mind. That’s what has enabled me to go forward.
As my second wife, Becky, says: “We need faith the most when we face a crisis. Going to the Lord really is the only answer. It is the way to cope and hope.”
Brother Evans and his wife, Becky, share photos of his daughter-in-law and her twin baby girls.
For a time, I struggled to figure out what was faith and what was hope. Alma describes faith as a “hope for things which are not seen, which are true” (Alma 32:21). Because of my faith in Jesus Christ, I have hope that if I remain faithful and true to my covenants, I can share eternal life with Tanya. I am also grateful for the assurance I have that the Savior is there for each of us. There’s a difference between thinking, “He’s there” and realizing, “He’s there for me.”
My two grandchildren have lasting ill effects from their car accident, and I still grieve Tanya’s absence in my life. I’ll never stop missing her, and the love I have for her is not diminished by the love I have for my second wife. The love has just multiplied.
My son has also remarried. His new wife is Becky’s first cousin once removed. We both married into the same family. What are the odds of that? It’s an amazing coincidence, or maybe it’s not.
Our family has had its share of challenges, but we have also experienced blessings. My son has become one of my heroes. He forgave the drunk driver who killed his wife, and he told her he hoped she would straighten out her life. His two little girls recently celebrated their fifth birthday. They are real miracle babies.
“I am grateful for the assurance I have that the Savior is there for each of us.”
For the past 17 years, I have had the privilege of serving as a patriarch. At first, I was afraid I couldn’t fulfill the calling, but I have learned that the blessings come from the Lord, not the patriarch. There are common themes in patriarchal blessings because our Heavenly Father wants many of the same things for all His children, but each blessing is different, individual, and personal.
One of the purposes of a patriarchal blessing is to help individuals see who they are as children of God and to discern how much their Heavenly Father loves them. As a patriarch, whenever I lay my hands on someone’s head to give them a patriarchal blessing, for just a few precious moments, Heavenly Father allows me to feel the love He has for that individual. It is an overpowering feeling. When I feel how much He loves each blessing recipient, I can feel that He loves me too.
“Nothing brings me greater joy than the promises of the temple, which give me hope that through Christ, I can overcome all trials,” says Brother Evans.
Today, Becky and I focus on the temple. One of the reasons our Lord has given us the temple is to give us a glimpse of Zion. In addition to being a patriarch, I was invited some years ago to serve as a sealer in the temple. That has been another great joy of my life. It is a calling of all happy occasions. Nothing brings me greater joy than the promises of the temple, which give me hope that through Christ, I can overcome all trials.

This story happened in Brazil.
“Jacob, do you know the answer?” Mrs. Lelis asked.
Jacob opened his eyes and lifted his head off the desk. All his classmates were looking at him. His teacher was staring at him too. He felt his cheeks get warm. He had fallen asleep in class again!
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Lelis,” he said. “Can you please say the question again?”
“Sure. But please stop napping in class.”
He shrunk down in his seat. “Yes, ma’am.”
Jacob came to his new school just a few weeks ago. He loved to learn, and his classmates were nice. But there was one problem—he was always so sleepy! His new school was far away, so he had to wake up very early to be there on time.
At first, it was easy to focus in class. But it got harder and harder. Sometimes Jacob was so tired he fell asleep.
The next day, The school principal asked Jacob and his parents to meet with her. She smiled and welcomed them into her office.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “Jacob is a great student. But his teacher says he’s not interested in his classes. Sometimes he doesn’t focus, and he seems very tired. Is he OK?”
His mother nodded. “Jacob worked hard to be able to go to school here, but it’s far from our house. He needs to wake up early every day. So he gets sleepy in his morning classes.”
“Oh, is that all?” the principal said. “You should try coffee drops! Put a few drops of very strong coffee in Jacob’s drink each morning. That will keep him awake.”
Jacob frowned. “But our family doesn’t drink coffee, ma’am.”
The principal looked confused. “It will be hard for you to learn if you keep falling asleep. You should at least think about it.”
When they left the principal’s office, Jacob’s thoughts were mixed up. He wanted to do better in school, but he wanted to follow the commandments too.
That night, his family read about the Word of Wisdom in the scriptures.
When it was Jacob’s turn, he read, “And all saints who remember to keep and do these sayings … shall find wisdom and great treasures of knowledge. And shall run and not be weary, and shall walk and not faint.”
Then he had an idea!
He stood up from his chair. “Instead of coffee drops, I’ll use faith drops!”
“What do you mean?” his father asked.
Jacob smiled. “Every morning before breakfast, we can say a prayer and ask Heavenly Father to bless me so I don’t feel so sleepy. Our prayers will be like drops of faith!”
Mom and Dad smiled too. “That sounds like a great idea!” Dad said.
The next morning, their family knelt and said a prayer that Jacob would have the energy to stay awake. They did the same thing the next day. And the day after that. Each night, Jacob tried to go to bed early too. And each morning Jacob’s family had faith that Heavenly Father would help him.
Over time, their drops of faith worked. Jacob could focus for the whole day! God had answered their prayers. And Jacob knew He was proud of him for following the Word of Wisdom.
“Ready for class, Jacob?” Mrs. Lelis asked one morning as he walked into the classroom.
Jacob nodded with a big grin on his face. He had his drops of faith before school. He was ready for anything!

From the age of five, all I wanted to do after I left school was to join the army. I was obsessed with everything to do with it; books and films, and particularly anything to do with the modern British Army. At age 14, I joined the Air Training Corps (ATC). But why join the Air Force cadets? My school was visited by a senior member of the recruitment section of the ATC; following their presentation, it became clear that joining the ATC was the only option open to me at the time, I just jumped at the chance.
The ATC was completely different from the army cadets; the only similarity was the marching and access to guns, for shooting on the range and for ceremonial purposes. An advantage of the ATC was that on several occasions I got to fly in a Chipmunk, a two-seater aeroplane, and in gliders—so much fun.
By the time I was sixteen I was once more focussed on the army. Because of this, I got very low marks in school exams. But I did not care because I knew what I wanted to do. As soon as I turned 17, I was ready to join the army. I took the entrance exam and passed. All that remained was the medical, but that was a disaster! I failed because I was two stones overweight. For the next five weeks I worked harder than ever to lose the weight and, thankfully, I succeeded.
When I returned for the follow-up medical, the doctor could not believe I was the same person. After signing some papers, I was given a date and a place to attend for training. As I was under 18, my mum had very reluctantly signed the consent form, though after failing my first medical she had hoped that I would change my mind—but, no chance.
Departure day finally came. I said farewell to my family and made my way to Sutton Coldfield, the army’s selection centre in the North of England. The five-day selection process was gruelling, mentally, and physically. I wanted to join the infantry, the Royal Regiment of Fusiliers. I was drawn to that wonderful part of the cap badge, the red and white hackle. It made the wearer stand out in a crowd, just like a peacock, and at my age at the time, every young man was a bit of a peacock.
Once selection was over, I was sent with several other young men to Bassingbourn barracks in Hertfordshire for thirteen weeks of intensive training. The training as an infantryman was tough, involving a lot of running and strength-based activities. Luckily for me, after I had lost the weight, I continued to work out, so I was no stranger to vigorous exercise.
During the thirteenth week we had our final test, a 20-mile speed march, carrying a full pack on our backs. It was a killer, but I made it. Out of an initial class of 40 recruits, I passed with nineteen others. It was a proud day for me and my family, including my mum. The rest of my career was served with the 2nd Battalion Royal Regiment of Fusiliers in places such as Northern Ireland, Germany and various European countries.

Third, watching what you think. When inappropriate thoughts do enter the scene, quickly change the channel to something wholesome. I recall a few years ago working on a project for the US Olympic Committee, when I received an apparent email from one of our group working on the project. When I opened the attachment, I found myself face-to-face with pornography. I was all alone in my office. No mortal being would know of what I did next. I could either indulge it and open the other accompanying attachments and whisper to myself that, 'it won't hurt to just look for a few minutes,' or do the right thing. I immediately shut off the computer and felt shaken. I fled the temptation as did Joseph. After deleting the email, I notified the sender, and it turned out that someone had hijacked his email box. We can seemingly face temptation at almost any time.
Such a 'Moment of Truth' would lead to one of two potential paths. One was that of driving the Spirit from my life and potentially beginning a life of an imprisoning addition, or living true to who I am. The right path was chosen due to a preparation of daily commitment to gospel and doing the right thing at any time in any place.

Where should we come? Who should we follow? The Savior tells us: “Come, follow me” (Luke 18:22; emphasis added). When Harmony left home for trek, she saw the Lord’s hand in her experience. She knew she was following Him.
Harmony’s path to her stake trek was different from others’ paths. At age 15 she learned that she had a rare form of skin cancer. She wasn’t able to participate in her stake trek. “I was devastated,” she recalled.
Four years later, when her stake announced another trek, Harmony was free of cancer. But at age 19, she thought she wouldn’t be able to go. Then she received a calling to participate as a leader. She said, “It’s a testimony to me that the Lord knows who we are, and He knows the desires of our hearts, and if they’re righteous and good, He’ll bless us.”
Harmony offered advice to help us when we face trials: “To anyone who’s struggling, I’d say just to lean on the Lord. He’s always there for you. He loves us, and He won’t let us fall. We just need to reach out our hand to Him, and He will help us on our pioneer journey.”

Sister Fidencia began attending Latter-day Saint church meetings sometime between 1889 and 1901. During that period, the Church had closed the Mexican Mission. As a result, Church leaders in Mexico had little direction from Church headquarters, and many units deviated from standard doctrines and practices. During this time, Sister Fidencia and her family—not yet members of the Church—attended the Tecalco Branch.
When President Ammon M. Tenney came to Tecalco in 1901 to reestablish the branch after the mission reopened, the leader of the branch, Julian Rojas, was initially unwilling to relinquish control. Brother Rojas finally relented, and President Tenney rebaptized him and seventy-five others on August 18. One month later, President Tenney baptized Fidencia, her parents, and her grandparents. From that day on, Sister Fidencia dedicated her life to serving the Lord.

Let me share two examples of discipleship in action. The first is from the life of President Thomas S. Monson, demonstrating the power of simple kindness and Jesus’s teaching, “He that is greatest among you shall be your servant.”
Nearly 20 years ago, President Monson spoke in general conference about a 12-year-old young woman suffering from cancer. He told of her courage and the kindness of her friends to carry her up Mount Timpanogos in central Utah.
A few years ago I met Jami Palmer Brinton and heard the story from a different perspective—the perspective of what President Monson had done for her.
Jami met President Monson in March 1993, a day after being told that a mass above her right knee was a fast-growing bone cancer. With her father assisting, President Monson administered a priesthood blessing, promising, “Jesus will be on your right side and on your left side to buoy you up.”
“Upon leaving his office that day,” Jami said, “I unfastened a balloon tied to my wheelchair and gave it to him. ‘You’re the Best!’ it announced in bright letters.”
Through her chemotherapy treatments and limb-saving surgery, President Monson did not forget her. Jami said, “President Monson exemplified what it means to be a true disciple of Christ. [He] lifted me from sorrow to great and abiding hope.” Three years after their first meeting, Jami again sat in President Monson’s office. At the end of the meeting, he did something that Jami will never forget. So typical of President Monson’s thoughtfulness, he surprised her with the very same balloon that she had given to him three years before. “You’re the Best!” the balloon proclaimed. He had saved it, knowing she would return to his office when she was cured of cancer. Fourteen years after first meeting Jami, President Monson performed her marriage to Jason Brinton in the Salt Lake Temple.
We can learn so much from the discipleship of President Monson. He often reminds the General Authorities to remember this simple question: “What would Jesus do?”

Matthew has a strong sense of justice and often reminds his parents of family rules. Brother Thomson once wrote in his journal: “Tonight my son taught me a lesson. After I got really frazzled with the kids and yelled at them, Matthew came up to me and said, ‘Dad, why don’t you keep a rule that Mommy’s keeping? She’s made a rule not to raise her voice.’ I felt like I should just be quiet and listen.

“My wife and I are amazed at his ability to grasp doctrinal concepts,” Brother Thomson adds. “When we talk to him about gospel principles, he soaks it in like a sponge. He just loves listening and learning. He likes to discuss things and reason things through.”

Brother Thomson has told his children that a mission is like a university education in the school of life, and Matthew plans to enroll. His family helps him prepare for that experience as they helped him prepare for his baptism. For many weeks before he turned eight, the family home evenings were modified missionary discussions, preparing Matthew as any convert to the Church would prepare. When his baptism day came, he was thoroughly grounded in the covenants he was making and in the eternal meaning of this earthly ordinance.

Already looking ahead toward Rebecca’s, Deborah’s, and Hannah’s baptisms, the family has calculated that when Hannah is eight years old, Matthew will be a priest and able to baptize her. This has led to discussions about the priesthood.

When I was almost 18, I flew to a small town called Soldotna, Alaska, to work for the summer. This was my first experience living away from home. My parents had arranged for me to work for and live with their good friends the Wrights, who owned the local grocery store. I hoped to earn enough money for college. I also hoped to return home with an answer to a question that repeatedly entered my mind: Is there really a God?
I needed to obtain an answer for myself. So I resolved to pray every night and ask God if He was real. Somehow I felt that if God existed, He would answer my prayer. If I never received an answer, then I would know He didn’t exist. Simple, I thought.
At the Wrights’ home, I shared a bedroom with their daughter Lisa. She was home from Brigham Young University for the summer and worked at the grocery store with me. I admired Lisa from the start. She was beautiful, intelligent, confident, and enthusiastic about life. That summer we spent nearly every hour of every day together.
I loved listening to Lisa tell me about college life. Her life sounded fun and very independent. Lisa had her life organized and balanced, with the right priorities firmly in place.
My admiration for Lisa grew as I observed her reading the scriptures daily and praying each morning and night. I wanted to ask Lisa how she had obtained her faith in God but felt ashamed of my lack of faith. I remember lying in bed, wondering what Lisa talked to God about in her prayers.
Every night I knelt by my bed and said a quick prayer, asking God if He was there. Yet I didn’t feel anything special or spiritual. I did not hear a voice. I felt the same after my prayers as I did before them. This nightly routine went on for two months. Discouraged, I found my doubts in God increasing.
One night, when I was feeling deeply homesick, tears welled in my eyes. I desperately wanted to be near my family, friends, and familiar surroundings. Aching to talk to someone who knew and loved me, I knelt in prayer. “God, I really need You right now,” I began. For the next several minutes, I released my true feelings to my Father in Heaven. I told Him everything. I talked with Him as though I believed He was there.
A warmth wrapped around me. I began to feel as though Heavenly Father had come down and taken me in His arms. I was no longer alone. Love and peace embraced me. I knew there was a God.
I wondered why receiving an answer to my prayer took more than two months. Jeremiah 29:13 gave me the answer: “And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart.”
I finally received an answer to my prayer after I dug deep into my heart. I placed faith in God’s existence. I searched high into the heavens with my words and tears.
My life has changed because of that one night. I served a mission and married in the temple. My faith in God’s existence continues to increase.
I often think back to that summer in Alaska. Without Lisa’s example, I might not have persevered through those months of praying. I might have quit and never discovered the love of my Heavenly Father. I will forever be grateful to Lisa and her example. She helped me come to know God and feel His love for me.

In the 1970s, the Bricknells had saved enough money to take their family to the temple to be sealed. But when Church leaders asked for donations from South African members to help fund the building of the Sao Paulo temple, the family sacrificed their travel savings.
“We contributed all we had saved for that family trip,” said Jennifer Bricknell. “And within a year, we had the money to take all five of our children to the Salt Lake Temple.”