Gospel Story Finder

Now, I would like to conclude by recounting a more tender experience of Joseph Smith’s ability to forgive and to befriend others.

It involves William W. Phelps, who joined the Church in Kirtland and became a faithful and loyal member. With the passage of time, however, and as the result of improprieties and pride, Brother Phelps fell away from the Church. He eventually became bitter and hostile toward Joseph Smith. The timing of his hostile feelings was unfortunate as it occurred at the point Joseph Smith was taken prisoner in Far West, Missouri, during the incredibly turbulent period of persecutions that took place there in 1838 and 1839.

Sadly, Brother Phelps fell to a lower point yet. He joined other disaffected members in giving false witness against Joseph Smith in the contrived court trials that eventually resulted in the Prophet and other leaders being unjustly sent to Liberty Jail. What possibly could have been the feelings of Joseph Smith in realizing that Brother Phelps, along with others who had once been his trusted friends, had so totally and so unjustly turned against him?

That becomes the backdrop against which we now consider two letters. The first was sent to Joseph Smith approximately two years after he had been freed to join with the Saints in Illinois. It was sent by William W. Phelps who was now feeling the magnitude and seriousness of what he had done. In his letter he willingly confessed his sins and fervently begged for forgiveness from Joseph Smith and the others that he had so deeply offended. Joseph Smith did not hesitate to write his reply. His letter to William W. Phelps will stand for generations to come as a pattern of how we should freely and fully forgive others. His response, in part reads as follows:

Dear Brother Phelps: …
You may in some measure realize what my feelings, as well as Elder Rigdon’s and Brother Hyrum’s were, when we read your letter—truly our hearts were melted into tenderness and compassion when we ascertained your resolves. …
It is true, that we have suffered much in consequence of your behavior—the cup of gall, already full enough for mortals to drink, was indeed filled to overflowing when you turned against us. …
However, the cup has been drunk, the will of our Father has been done, and we are yet alive, for which we thank the Lord. And having been delivered from the hands of wicked men by the mercy of our God, we say it is your privilege to be delivered from the powers of the adversary, be brought into the liberty of God’s dear children, and again take your stand among the Saints of the Most High, and by diligence, humility, and love unfeigned, commend yourself to our God, and your God, and to the Church of Jesus Christ.
Believing your confession to be real, and your repentance genuine, I shall be happy once again to give you the right hand of fellowship, and rejoice over the returning prodigal. …
“Come on, dear brother, since the war is past,
For friends at first, are friends again at last.”

Now brothers and sisters, please join with me in attempting to imagine three things. First, imagine how difficult it must have been for Joseph Smith to have so readily forgiven Brother Phelps. Second, and harder yet, imagine how inconceivable it would have been for Joseph Smith to have chosen not to have forgiven Brother Phelps. How the heavens must have rejoiced as he penned his letter of forgiveness. And last, try to imagine what might have become of William W. Phelps if Joseph Smith had declined to extend forgiveness. Many of you would not know what subsequently became of William W. Phelps and how Joseph Smith’s letter freed him from his burden and allowed him to return to serving the Church. As he returned, he did so with a fervency and with faithfulness that few can equal. It became his privilege and blessing to speak at Joseph Smith’s funeral service. Eventually, using the skills that in earlier years had allowed him to write the words to such beloved hymns as “The Spirit of God Like a Fire Is Burning” and “O’ God the Eternal Father,” he composed the words to “Praise To The Man.”

Annette usually goes to Great Oaks during study period—between 6:30 and 7:30 P.M. She helps the girls with their homework or reading. Sometimes they play games or put puzzles together. She remembers one evening the dorm was in the middle of several crises.
Apparently, some of the girls had tried to run away. Another one was crying uncontrollably after a day in court. Two sisters, Denise and Linda, had just found out that their grandmother had died. “I took them outside,” says Annette, “and we just walked together. The girls were quietly crying. Soon, they started talking about how much they missed their grandma and especially how long it had been since they had seen their mother. They both felt better after our walk.”

Sometimes the Holy Ghost will give us a warning, a loving chastisement, if you will, that can also serve as a witness to us of the love of Jesus Christ. I recall just such an experience. I had been a bishop of our ward in Payson for a little over five years when a young man who was graduating from Primary and entering the Young Men’s organization came into my office. I knew this 12-year-old. You see he was only 7 when I first became his bishop. From the time he was 7 years old until he was 12—well, let’s just say that he presented a challenge to his teachers. He came into the office and I remember very distinctly thinking to myself, “Oh, so I have an appointment with ——. I wonder if he will sit still while I talk to him. I hope he grows up soon. I don’t know how he can possibly be a responsible deacon, holding the Aaronic Priesthood. I don’t see how he will be a Boy Scout.” At that moment, as he sat down across from my desk, the Lord spoke to me. I must have sat there for a long moment not uttering a word as I listened to the still, small voice say: “You must quit thinking ill of this young man. You cannot judge him in that way. You, as a judge in Israel, of all people, must listen to me, because I love this boy. He will one day be a leader in my kingdom.”

Do you know what that experience taught me? Well, I left the office that Sunday afternoon and related the experience to my wife and told her that I knew now, more than ever, that the Lord loves us all. Else, why would he teach me that lesson? You can also guess that as I remember that lesson, I remember the feelings and the promptings of the Holy Ghost. Because of that experience, I will always be able to recall that our Savior loves us, and I will become a better witness of Him.

Bishop Brown’s relationship with his family is one of respect and love, of understood meanings, and of honest and helpful criticism. Joanne, Bishop Brown’s oldest daughter, remembers that when she went to BYU there was a lesson given in her student ward about loving your parents, and the counsel was given to the new students at BYU to write their parents and tell them of their love for them. Joanne said, “In our home we didn’t say I love you, we just loved each other.” But Joanne followed instructions and wrote her father and mother telling them how much she really did love them. When Bishop Brown received that letter he called his daughter immediately. Joanne says she will always remember how touched and grateful her father was for her expression of love to him.

My husband and I have three children—Thomas (6), Tucker (4), and Madison (1). Thomas and Tucker are learning in Primary about baptism and sharing the gospel.
One day, the children and I were at the doctor’s office. A woman with a very small baby came in. The boys love their younger sister, and they were interested in the woman’s baby. I told the boys to sing the baby a song instead of trying to touch it. They looked at each other, then started to sing “I Am a Child of God.”
Upon finishing the song, Thomas looked straight into the mother’s eyes and said, “You know, we are all children of God. Me, my brother, you, your baby, my mom, my sister. Do you go to church? We should all go to church.”
The mother sat there smiling. It was a very touching moment that ended when the nurse called us in to see the doctor.
We don’t know if we’ll ever see the mother and her baby again. What I know is that Thomas and Tucker are practicing the lessons they are learning in Primary and at home about sharing the gospel. And that I should feel comfortable sharing the gospel whenever possible. I pray that they will continue to share the gospel as they grow and that they will always love Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ as they do now.

When the weather got warmer, there was time for some mountain climbing with Wallace and LeRoi, the three young men striking out for the “highest point” in the mountains above Brigham City:
“We climbed up some of the roughest places I had ever been over. I took the lead after half of the way had been traveled. LeRoi shot a snake over five feet long. There were large, deep banks of snow, some over five feet deep. Large towering masses of stone began to get very common. I walked over one large bed of rock, jumped from one stone to another. Large, deep holes, many over 25 feet to the bottom, were a common thing amongst this immense mass or field of rock. We rolled large boulders over many precipices, and they seemed to shake the earth on their destructive path, tearing up trees by the roots. I arrived at the top first, 25 minutes ahead of the others. … We could see Logan City and the beautiful white Logan temple from our lofty view. We also saw the small towns in all directions around. I left the top for home 2:10 after writing a few notes down. I ran down a path, flying homeward, arriving one hour ahead of the boys. I enjoyed it very much; wore out my shoes.”

1849–1919
“I esteem it a great privilege to … help in the [spreading] of the gospel.”
She lived in Norway. She was a widow, and she raised two sons.
She learned the gospel from a shoemaker. When he repaired her shoes, he put a Church pamphlet in each one. She was baptized in the sea.
She served a mission in Scandinavia. Her son John became an Apostle.
Anna C. Widtsoe letter, Salt Lake City, Utah, to Joseph F. Smith, June 6, 1903, Church History Library, Salt Lake City, Utah, USA.

Two relevant memories for young fathers. When I was such, I had just received a phone call telling me of a friend’s death in an accident. I was sitting in the living room with tears streaking down my cheeks. Our young son, Cory, saw the tears as he passed in the hallway. I learned that he had anxiously assumed the tears were because he had disappointed me in some way. He didn’t know about the phone call. Brethren, we underestimate how genuinely and frequently our children want to please us.

October 3, 1984, began as an ordinary day. The sun rose, the colors of autumn sprinkled the Midwest, and it appeared as the garden spot of the nation. The day was somewhat uneventful until the telephone rang. “Elder Sonnenberg?” the voice inquired, and then intoned, “The office of the First Presidency is calling. President Hinckley would like to speak with you.”
After a brief exchange of kindnesses, he invited me to become a member of the First Quorum of the Seventy and a General Authority. It has been, and yet remains, overwhelming. The day took on new meaning and an entirely different dimension in my life as I pondered the challenge and invitation. I will do my best and serve with all my heart. My lovely wife and children and their wonderful families surely sustain me, as they have always done.
Men’s lives have been clearly and completely changed by such invitations from men of God. This acceptance was acknowledged by asking when and where the Lord would have me go.
Men and women the world over are invited each day to come and join with us. The Savior invited men to “come, follow me.” (Luke 18:22.) It was not an ordinary invitation—to follow Jesus. The commitment had everlasting and eternal consequences. Peter was invited to “launch out into the deep.” (Luke 5:4.) He was a strong, suntanned, ordinary fisherman until he was invited “to let down [the] nets.” (Luke 5:4.) Thereafter he would never be the same because the Savior was steering his soul more than the ship. Yes, he was an ordinary fisherman until he heard the voice of Jesus and accepted His invitation.
Another time Peter was invited to walk on the water, and when he couldn’t continue he learned that when our faith falters we fail. (See Matt. 14:28–31.) Accepting the invitation requires unconditional faith.
In the presence of arrogant and angry men who were eager to accuse, the Master inscribed in sand and dust that which is now cast in concrete. The crowded courtyard of anxious accusers was cleared, and a sinner was saved from stoning because the Savior was interested in the person more than the problem. (See John 8:3–11.) He invited us to not judge, and then He demonstrated that forgiveness fosters love and that casting stones simply wouldn’t solve the problem or bring about a solution.
If we are to be as He is, we must be as He was. We must even invite with interest those who show disinterest and hope that somehow they will recognize the divine discourse described as a testimony.
He invited us to seek after the singular sheep that was lost. He made us to understand that a lost sheep is really a lost soul that we need to seek and search for, that a lost coin is one who needs to be counted and then converted, and that a prodigal son is one that can be saved by serving and then giving service himself.
He invited little children to come unto Him and each of us to become as one of them. He invited men to love one another as He has loved us, and then He would call them His disciples. He extended His love to His Apostles on condition that they understood what unconditional love for their fellowman was.
He invites men to receive the priesthood of God and to magnify it by service. He invites us to pay our tithing and fast offering, to teach the gospel, and to be baptized, and receive the Holy Ghost. And He invites us to preach the gospel in all the world because we are a worldwide church.
Last month my faithful and youthful companion, Timmy Manners, and I did our home teaching. Sixteen-year-old Timmy was born in the British Isles, I was born in the DDR [German Democratic Republic], and we teach a family from France. We visit them in Germany, and speak English—and we all understand each other.
Each of our families were converted to this, the Lord’s true church, by dedicated missionaries in different lands. We were taught by the sweet Spirit of the Lord. As we meet monthly in the lovely home of Jean Collin and his wonderful family, we have the opportunity to enlighten one another in our home teaching visit by that same sweet Spirit.
We invite the Spirit of the Lord on bended knee in the attitude of prayer. On this wise shall ye pray. What an invitation to communicate in the name of Christ! We are invited to cry repentance and bear our testimony, and then as a crown of commitment He allows us to go to His Holy House and be sealed for eternity.
Before 1830, April 6 was also just an ordinary day. Since the coming of the Book of Mormon and the organization of His church, the Spirit of the Lord has touched men and women around the world. Apostles and prophets and fellow Saints have borne witness of the divinity of the restoration of the gospel. Light, knowlege, and truth have been restored, and the Spirit of the Lord has been felt by members of His Church.
My beloved brothers and sisters, I testify that the Book of Mormon is true, that Jesus is the Christ and that Spencer W. Kimball is a prophet of God, and I invite you to follow them and enjoy the Spirit of the Lord, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I had faithfully read the Book of Mormon daily since I was a teenager. Even on nights when I’d fall into bed exhausted and realize I hadn’t read for the day, I would pick it up and read at least a few verses.
Two years ago I was asked to teach the Old Testament in early-morning seminary. I was more unfamiliar with the Old Testament than any other book of scripture, so some days I would spend three to four hours studying and preparing my lessons. Because I spent so much time studying the Bible and latter-day revelation, I stopped reading the Book of Mormon every day. We were reading it as a family at night, and I would use it for an occasional cross-reference, so I felt that I was getting sufficient daily gospel study.
In the middle of the school year in January, my stake president challenged the entire stake to read a chapter in the Book of Mormon each day. Though I wondered how I would find time given my heavy seminary studies, I decided I should accept the challenge. I needed to do it not only to strengthen myself but also to set an example for my children and students.
From that moment on I read a chapter from the Book of Mormon each day as I started preparing my seminary lesson or as I got ready for bed. A spirit and a power I didn’t know was missing returned to my life. My seminary lessons, which had been going well, became even better. Parts of the Old Testament that were difficult to understand became clearer. I also realized that I better understood the Book of Mormon as a result of the intense study I had been doing of the prophets and the law of Moses.

“Gracie,” Mom whispered. “Wake up. It’s time for family prayer.”
Grace groaned and pulled the covers over her head. She was so warm and cozy in her bed. She heard her sister Charlotte get up and go into the living room. Grace stayed in bed, hoping her family would forget about her and just say the prayer. Dad had to leave for work early every morning, so everyone got up then to say good-bye and have a prayer.
“Grace, time to get up,” Mom called. Grace sighed and dragged herself out of bed. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she mumbled to herself, “What’s the point? We pray for the same things every day.”
“Hello, sleepyhead,” Dad said with a smile. Grace scowled at him. She knelt on the floor next to Charlotte and bowed her head.
“Help us to be like Jesus and to love one another. Please help us have a good day and bless us with health and safety. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen,” Charlotte said. “Amen,” chorused the family.
“Good-bye, everyone,” Dad said, “I love you.” Dad spied Grace, who was still scowling, and asked, “Where’s my good-bye smile?” Grace couldn’t help but smile as Dad reached out to tickle her, but she still felt grumpy.
Grace felt tired all morning at school. She was sure it was because she had to get up so early for family prayer. “If only I could sleep half an hour longer, I’m sure I wouldn’t feel so sleepy,” she thought.
Later that afternoon at home, Grace was eating a snack while Charlotte watched cartoons. Suddenly they heard pounding on the front door. Grace stood up and walked toward the door, but before she could open it, a man burst through it, yelling, “Fire! Fire! Hurry and get out! Your house is on fire!” Hearing the noise, Mom came rushing from the kitchen, a frightened look on her face. She grabbed the girls and rushed them out the front door. The man pointed to the flames coming from their roof. Smoke billowed into the sky as the flames climbed higher and higher. Mom led the girls to the neighbors’ porch across the street. “Stay here while I go call 911,” she said before running into the neighbors’ house. After Mom disappeared, Charlotte began to cry. “I want my mommy.” Grace hugged her, saying, “It’s OK, Mommy just went inside to call the fire department.”
By the time Mom came back, they could already hear sirens blaring. A big red fire truck roared up the street, screeching to a halt in front of their house. The firefighters leaped from the fire engine and began spraying Grace’s house with a big hose. Once the blaze died down, they went inside to check the house for any lingering flames. Mom hugged the girls as they watched the firefighters work.
Dad’s car pulled into the neighbors’ driveway. He jumped out.
“What happened?” Dad cried.
Shaking her head, Mom said, “I was starting dinner in the kitchen when a man came in and shouted that our house was on fire. He was working on the electrical lines and saw the smoke. I had no idea what was going on. …” She paused. “He saved our lives.”
Grace said in a trembling voice, “It was lucky that he was working up on the power poles and saw the smoke, or we might have been inside when the fire got worse.” Grace didn’t want to think of what might have happened.
Dad hugged everyone and said with tears in his eyes, “Let’s kneel right now and thank Heavenly Father for His protection.”
“What about the house, Dad?” Grace cried.
Dad said quietly, “I don’t care about the house. I’m just grateful you are all safe.”
Grace had never felt so much love and happiness as she knelt with her family. Then she remembered their family prayer that morning for health and safety. Shame washed over her as she recalled how she had acted.
“I’m sorry, Heavenly Father,” she prayed silently. The warm feeling returned to her heart. She knew that Heavenly Father had protected her and her family, and she was grateful that He had heard and answered her family’s prayer.

Back in November 1999, I was asked by our college dean to give a presentation to our college's faculty about how to prepare for Y2K. "Y2K" stood for the year 2000--particularly January 1, 2000--when apparently all computers and basically anything electronic was supposed to crash; when life as we knew it would come to a screeching halt. Personally, I did not worry too much about it. I knew that I would be with a group of students up in the Teton Mountains for a weeklong backcountry ski and winter camping trip called Winter Summit. Nothing happened to us. We had no computers and no electricity, just a lot of great new powder snow. I don't believe anything happened anywhere.
But, still there were many who were worried, which is why I was asked to give the talk. Having taught outdoor survival skills, winter camping, and other outdoor courses, I guess our dean thought I could give some suggestions on how to deal with the impending doom. Without asking him, I decided to take a different approach to the topic. Instead of discussing how to prepare for Y2K, I gave my presentation on "YK2?" Here the "Y" did not represent a year, nor did "2K." Rather the "Y" stood for a question: Why? And the K2 stood for just that--K2--the world's second highest mountain and one of the most difficult and challenging to climb.

Early in my life, my parents struggled in their marriage, and it affected our family. When my mother’s friend became aware of this, she said to my mother, “How about you come and learn about my church?” My mother said that she and my father were not ready for that. Her friend said, “Then why don’t you let me take your children with me?” I was five at the time. My sister was eight.
This good friend took me and my sister to church for several years. I remember experiencing the joy of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. As my testimony grew, I wished and prayed for my parents to eventually learn about the gospel. When my sister decided to be baptized, my parents felt that they needed to find out a little bit about the Church.
As my parents began to learn about the truthfulness of the gospel, I saw a change of heart in them. They were humbled, and they came to embrace the gospel. A year after they joined the Church, I turned eight and my father baptized me. Heavenly Father had heard and answered my prayers.
Three years later, the Mexico City Mexico Temple was dedicated. I had the chance to go there with my family. We knelt at a beautiful altar to be sealed together forever, and we rejoiced in the promises and hope that Jesus Christ and His gospel bring. Years later, my wife and I were sealed in the same house of the Lord.

When I had just turned deacon age, my family moved from our home in Wyoming to a new home in Great Falls, Montana. My father, older brother, and younger sister climbed into our pickup truck and led the way. They were towing a large red trailer we had borrowed for the move. The rest of the family, with Mom at the wheel, climbed into the family van.
We had crossed the state line into Montana when the driver of a car in front of the truck suddenly stepped on his brakes. My father braked to avoid hitting the car and the trailer jackknifed. The weight of the trailer then caused the pickup truck to whip back and forth across the road. The force of the motion caused everything to shift, and the trailer’s back doors flew off. The trailer’s contents then spilled out onto the highway.
Luckily my father was able to bring the pickup under control without further incident. A crowd of at least 20 people, including my family, climbed out of their cars to help clear our things off the highway.
Suddenly, in the middle of the mess and confusion, I heard my father shout. A large truck was going too fast to stop. There was no room for him to go around and no time to slam on the brakes. The truck barreled through the debris and into the small crowd of people. Nearly everyone moved when they heard my dad’s cry, but seven-year-old Charlie hadn’t heard. Steven, who was about to turn ten, had started to move out of the way. But when he saw Charlie in the truck’s path, he turned back to save his brother’s life.
Charlie was killed instantly. Steven was hit by the truck and thrown to the side of the road. He died two hours later in a Billings, Montana, hospital. Steven literally gave his own life trying to save his brother’s. His example made me think how lucky I was to have a brother who loved others so much that he was willing to give his life to save them.

After a meeting with some of our servicemen in Da Nang, South Vietnam, one man in battle dress came up to me and asked if I would write a letter to his parents, who were nonmembers, explaining to them the great honor that had come to him that day. He said they knew nothing about the Church and asked, “Bishop Brown, would you mind telling them what a great honor it was for me to be ordained a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood today?” Some time ago in New York City a fine-looking young man said to me, “It isn’t easy to be a Jew and a Mormon.” When this young man was baptized, his parents were so displeased they held a formal funeral. As far as they are concerned, their son is dead. How important it is that all young men of the Aaronic Priesthood recognize their responsibility as priesthood holders and, as President McKay used to say, act accordingly.

On August 25, 1975, a big bully who operated a shoe repair shop, along busy Herran street in Paco, Manila, resenting Elder Mabunga’s protest over the obvious overcharging for the repair of Elder Larkin’s pair of shoes, held the Filipino missionary by the collar and started to manhandle him.
The ensuing commotion caught the attention of an off-duty cop who was by chance in the vicinity and who came to the aid of the missionaries. The incident ended with a brief interlude of friendship with the cop, to whom they related their experience a week before, who in turn promised to help in the apprehension of the holdup men.
They shook hands and parted ways—but the harrowing experience of two unnerving incidents in a week’s time apparently was disconcerting to the two missionaries. Both forgot to take note of the cop’s name and address! That evening, they prayed hard for an opportunity to cross paths with him again.
One evening during the same week, they were teaching the gospel to the big Molinos family residing at Fabie Estate, Paco, Manila when someone knocked on the door. The elders momentarily stopped as the head of the family excused himself to open the door.
The Lord, indeed, works in strange ways. Who should come knocking on the door but the cop whose name the two elders forgot to take note of, and who turned out to be a relative on an unscheduled visit to the Molinos family without any purpose in mind.
The reunion resulted in a new turn of events in the life of the cop. He joined the Molinos family in listening to the message of the elders, hardly realizing that Elder Larkin and Elder Mabunga were silently thanking the Lord for an opportunity that came at the least expected moment.—P. Ocampo Jr.
Notes: The cop, Patrolman Antonio Buenaflor Molinos of Precinct 5, was baptized September 27, 1975, almost a month ahead of the big Molinos family of 2174 Road 5, Fabie Estate, Paco, Manila.
One of the holduppers was apprehended and jailed.

My wife, Mary Anne, and I lived in Guatemala for five years. Elder Richard G. Scott visited while we were there, and together we toured the beautiful countries of El Salvador and Panama. On a Friday evening we had a devotional in Panama. We arrived at about 6:30 p.m., and the devotional was scheduled for 7 p.m.
As we entered the building and walked down the corridor, I looked into one of the classrooms and saw a little boy on his knees praying. I felt that I was on sacred ground, and I shut the door. We then went into the chapel, and shortly thereafter the little boy entered and sat behind us. We had a wonderful devotional with Elder Scott, and as it ended, I approached the little boy. This was our conversation:
“What is your name?”
“My name is Carlos Pitti.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirteen years old.”
“Are you here with your parents?”
“No, I am here with my brother.”
“Why were you praying in the classroom?”
“I was praying that I would feel the Spirit during the devotional.”
“Did you feel the Spirit?”
As tears ran down his cheeks from his big black eyes, he said, “Yes, I did.”

The news came one spring afternoon when I was a college freshman. My parents, who’d been married in the temple 20 years ago, were officially divorced.
That night, I huddled in my bedroom, bearing adult-sized problems on my shoulders. I couldn’t believe my parents would never live together again. I also realized that gone was the future I had taken for granted—Mom and Dad side-by-side attending my temple marriage someday, or together sharing their joy over grandchildren.
Negative feelings clouded my mind. I had doubts about my ability to make a marriage work. I feared ward members and friends would consider me spiritually inferior because of my family’s problems. I worried that family members would fall away from the Church. And worst of all, I was lonely because we were each withdrawing into our own shells of pain.
It’s been years since that difficult night, and now I have good news. With the Lord’s help and with the support of caring family and ward members, I’ve worked through the trial of my parents’ divorce, and my life is very happy.
I have regained eternal hope, have learned to communicate and function well with both parents separately, and have been able to establish my own happy temple marriage. Other Latter-day Saint youth affected by their parents’ divorce have done the same, and I’d like to share our experiences.
Divorce may make you feel you’re losing everything you considered familiar and safe. I remember sitting on my bedroom floor, trying to study, as my dad moved his personal belongings from the house. His shirts, his books, his grooming items—everything seemed so misplaced in the back of his truck.
Christmas traditions were turned upside down as we tried to spend time with both Mom and Dad—separately. Important things like eating dinner all together or attending church as a whole family no longer existed. Too many changes at once can be overwhelming. In times of instability, remember there are strong, stable resources all around you.
Remarriages may be even more difficult to accept than divorce. Remember that you are not being rejected when your parent chooses a new mate—you are loved as much as ever. I understand this more now that I have my own children. My love for them will never diminish, regardless of the circumstances.
My siblings and I have accepted both a stepmother and a stepfather into our lives. We have learned to love and appreciate both. I admit it was difficult to see our parents with new spouses at first, but with time they have become our special friends.

Another example is given of a man whose daughter came to him one evening and said, “Dad, may I use the car tonight?”
He replied, “It isn’t here.”
“What do you mean, ‘It isn’t here.’ Where is it?”
“I don’t know. I let a man borrow it.”
“Well, who is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t understand. When will he bring it back?”
The father then explained, saying, “You seem to be quite concerned about my car, and yet you don’t seem to appreciate my wanting to know about your dates—with whom and where you are going and when you will come back. I have far more interest in you and your welfare than in my automobile, and I hope you can understand now why I ask you those questions.”

Diana Vasquez didn’t get a chance to say good-bye to her father. She didn’t know she needed to. When she and her two brothers went to school on June 9, 2007, he seemed fine. But before she got home, he lay down to rest and didn’t wake up.
“It was so unexpected,” says Diana, who was 16 at the time. “At first I couldn’t accept it.”
But when tragedy strikes without warning, as it did in Diana’s family, suddenly things that really matter—like family—become more important.
Fortunately for Diana’s family, being united here and hereafter was something they were already working on. Pulling together when hard times could have pulled them apart has brought peace and happiness in this life and hope that they can be together in the next.
Less than a week before Diana’s father died, he taught a family home evening lesson on being united in keeping their covenants so they could be together forever. “Nobody has tomorrow guaranteed,” he said. “We need to be prepared so that if any one of us dies, we can still be together.”
Diana has learned how working together to keep gospel covenants can bring a family together, and she is grateful she learned before it was too late.
The last thing Diana’s father said to her as she left for school on the day he died was, “Te quiero mucho, Dianita.” (I love you very much, little Diana.)
Diana has confidence in the Lord’s promise that her family can be together again if they will continue to keep their covenants.
“I have seen how Heavenly Father has brought us closer together for following the Savior,” she says. “I have to believe He will also keep His promise that we can be together forever if we keep the commandments.
“I know our families can truly be eternal thanks to the divine plan.
“I know we can realize the eternal glory our Heavenly Father promises. Only by enduring to the end, putting our hearts into the things of God, and helping each other can we achieve our objective to be an eternal family.”