Gospel Story Finder

My new friend Jonah wrote: “I often feel nervous on my way to school in the morning. I worry about things like being late, forgetting something, and taking tests. When I was 10, I started saying prayers on my drive to school with my mom. I ask for the help I need, and I pray for my family too. I also think of the things I’m grateful for. [Praying to Heavenly Father has] helped me. Sometimes I don’t feel the relief right as I get out of the car, but by the time I’m at my classroom, I feel peaceful.”

Jonah’s faith is growing as he prays every day and then moves forward.

It was five o’clock in the morning when my husband and I, with two of our four children, left home in our small car. A fierce downpour pummeled the windshield, making it hard to see the road. But despite the weather, we were in a state of high excitement, for this was September 1983, and we were traveling to the dedication of the temple in Santiago, Chile.
My husband, a counselor in the bishopric, had received two tickets to attend dedicatory sessions in one of the large rooms inside the temple. Our older children, Igor and Perlita, ages 10 and 9, would see the services on closed-circuit television from a meetinghouse near the temple.
Brother Basualto, the other counselor in the bishopric, and his wife were traveling with us. They would sit with our children in the meetinghouse.
As we drove, Sister Basualto recounted a dream she had had the night before. “My husband and I were in the meetinghouse with your children, waiting for the session to start,” she told us. “Suddenly, one of the ushers came up and said, ‘Follow me. There are four extra seats in the temple.’ He took us into the temple and seated us right in front. It felt so real! When it was over, the General Authorities shook hands with the people. One of them spoke to your children.” As we listened to her, a peaceful feeling came over us. The rain continued to pour down.
We arrived at the temple, which stood stately and majestic in the storm. Shielding ourselves under a huge umbrella, we left our children and the Basualtos at the meetinghouse and hurried to our seats in the temple. The dedication was an extraordinary experience, with the Spirit gloriously in attendance. Even thinking about it today, I have a sweet and peaceful feeling. After the session was over, the members of the choir continued to sing with all their hearts in hymns of praise to the Lord.
My husband and I left the temple and went to the meetinghouse to join our children and friends. They were nowhere to be found. Quite concerned, we inquired if anyone had seen them. We were told, “Just before the session began, someone took them into the temple.” We looked back toward the temple and saw the four of them walking in the gardens.
Soon we were greeting one another excitedly. “Everything was just like my dream!” exclaimed Sister Basualto with tears in her eyes. How thrilled they had been to be seated inside the house of the Lord! Then they tenderly described how, at the conclusion, President Gordon B. Hinckley, then Second Counselor in the First Presidency, came up to our son Igor and spoke to him through an interpreter.
“How old are you, son?” President Hinckley asked.
“Ten,” said Igor.
“Will you promise me, here in the house of the Lord, that when the time comes you will serve a full-time mission, no matter what the obstacles?”
“Yes,” Igor replied in a quiet voice. “I promise.”
President Hinckley then turned to our daughter Perlita. “And you, my precious child, will you promise me that you will keep yourself clean and pure so that you can be married in the house of the Lord?”
She, too, shyly responded, “Yes.” We all wept as we thought of the marvelous events we had witnessed that day and of the beautiful promises the children had made.
Now, more than 10 years have passed. During that time, President Hinckley has become President of the Church, and my husband and I have watched both our children withstand the darts of the adversary. We have watched them stand firm and keep their childhood promises. Igor served as a missionary in the Chile Viña del Mar Mission. And his sister Perlita married a returned missionary in the beautiful Santiago Chile Temple—the same temple in which she and her brother had made special promises to a servant of the Lord and had witnessed a dream fulfilled.

These seminary students have discovered that family histories don’t stop with their parents. The stories continue in their own lives as recorded in their journals. “For example,” Lisa said, standing proudly beside her yellow jeep, “this is now sort of my car. It caught fire once, and the police had to come to put out the fire. I keep thinking how my kids will laugh when they read about that experience in my journal.”

Like Israel, 17-year-old Madhu Bunga remembers the first time he attended a Church meeting and felt the Spirit.
“I was glad to see so many strangers come and sit beside me and talk to me about my life,” says Madhu, who attended his first Church meeting in December 2000. “I was amazed how people taught and approached things by the Spirit of God. I loved it, and I ran to my house, thinking all the world was in my hands.”
Madhu and other young members of the Church keep the Spirit in their lives by attending church and seminary and participating in service projects in the community.
“I am the only member of the Church in my family,” says Madhu. “To stay strong, I attend seminary regularly. We have done many service projects, like going to a charity to teach children English, fun stories, and games. I went with the young men and women to a government hospital to paint the walls, and we helped Church members when they moved.”
Joseph Cornelius, president of the Hyderabad First Branch, also recognizes the importance of service and attending Church meetings to feel the Spirit.
“Members have service projects like collecting clothes for the orphanage once a year,” says President Cornelius. “We attend all the Church meetings an dactivities. WE have family prayer and family home evening.”
Recently members from the Hyderabad First and Second Branches collected old clothing and bought rice and cereal to give to a boys’ shelter. The people who run the shelter go to a train station in the area, find boys who are living there, and bring them back so they have a place to sleep. Schooling and counseling are also provided at the shelter.
When Church members arrived at the shelter, they were warmly greeted. After much visiting and an exchange of games and laughter, members sanded down the walls of the shelter, which were in dire need of repair. Paint was donated and applied, giving the shelter a clean, cheery appearance.
Whether it is at the service projects or in friendly gospel discussions, the Spirit continues to whisper the gospel to many in Hyderabad. Though soft, the language of the Spirit is clear, uniting Saints across one of the most populous countries in the world.

When I enrolled in a philosophy class in high school, my dad was a little concerned. In philosophy, everything is questioned, including the existence of God. My teacher taught us things that go against religion and deny God’s existence.
One philosophy test asked, “Why have we come to the earth?” The answer I was supposed to give was so that we could become self-actualized and take our place in the circle of life. I didn’t write that answer because it’s not what I believe.
Instead, I wrote, “We have come to the earth to be tested and to return to live with our Father in Heaven for eternity with our families.”
Afterward, the teacher called me up and asked me if I knew the correct answer to the question. I told him I did but that I wasn’t going to write something I knew was untrue.
He asked me if I was religious and which church I belonged to. I told him I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He told me that he had never known any religious student who was courageous enough to stand up for his beliefs and write such an answer.
“I did not give you full credit because your answer wasn’t the correct one,” he said. “But I gave you points for having the courage to write what you believe.”
I was happy because I had answered according to my convictions and according to the gospel truths I know and am trying to live.
Benjamin M., Chile

Just off the road on the far end of the island of Tubuai, Ronny Harevaa and his wife, Sandrine, tidy up the ground around a small stone monument. It is dedicated to the memory of Elder Addison Pratt, the first Latter-day Saint missionary to visit this island 450 miles (700 km) south of Tahiti. Addison Pratt grew up in New Hampshire in the United States of America, but at age 19 he became a seafarer. He traveled to what are now the Hawaiian Islands, then sailed the Pacific, Atlantic, Caribbean, and Mediterranean before marrying and settling in New York. In 1838 he and his wife joined the Church. By 1841 they had gathered with the Saints in Nauvoo, Illinois. In May 1843 Addison Pratt was called by the Prophet Joseph Smith to help begin missionary work in the Pacific. On April 30, 1844, he and two other elders, Noah Rogers and Benjamin Grouard, arrived on Tubuai.
The islanders were eager to have a missionary among them, and Elder Pratt remained. He began learning Tahitian and preaching. The first convert was his interpreter, another American. Six of seven sailors on the island were also baptized and confirmed. Then on July 22, 1844—three years before Latter-day Saint pioneers arrived in Utah—the first Polynesian converts were baptized. By February 1845, 60 of the 200 inhabitants of Tubuai had joined the Church. From these beginnings and from the work of Elder Rogers and Elder Grouard on other islands, the Church spread throughout what is now French Polynesia.

Elder Renlund: I would like to share what we learned about the sacrament from members of the Church in Kigali, Rwanda. The background to the story is that in 1994 there was a horrific genocide in Rwanda. Between 600,000 and 900,000 people were killed in a matter of 60 to 90 days.
Eventually, the Church established a branch in the capital city of Kigali. The branch was doing well, without full-time missionaries. In 2011, Ruth and I were serving in that Africa Southeast Area when we learned, sadly, that our registration as a church with the country of Rwanda was invalid, which meant that we were functioning illegally as a church. We also learned that our meetinghouse, a converted two-story home, was not appropriately zoned to hold church meetings. For these reasons, the Area Presidency, in consultation with our first contact in the Quorum of the Twelve, made the agonizing decision to close the branch. Our members were no longer able to meet for church meetings.
Lawyers in Kigali, Johannesburg, and Salt Lake City began working fervently and feverishly and hopefully to resolve the problems. Nothing seemed to work. Brick walls were hit at every turn. All the while, the Saints kept asking when they could meet together again. Months went by without resolution or progress.
After 9 to 10 months, Ruth and I decided to fly to Kigali to visit those Saints and try to buoy up their spirits. Before we did, I asked that the matter be placed on the temple prayer roll of the weekly meeting of the First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve.
The Tuesday before our scheduled trip from Johannesburg to Kigali, we were notified that, in a surprising move, the government had granted the Church provisional registration in the city of Kigali. Then, on Thursday of the same week, in another surprising move, the Zoning Commission granted an exemption from the zoning ordinance. The Kigali Saints could once again meet in our building without violating the law.
This was miraculous! Members were quickly notified that the branch would be meeting on Sunday. Ruth and I arrived on Friday and invited members to come to church. The members cleaned and prepared the building enthusiastically. When Sunday came, all the members--all of them--and many of their friends came to church. They arrived early, eager to be together again. As the sacrament was blessed and passed, we all experienced an extraordinary renewing, refreshing, and cleansing spirit.
I remember, in the meeting, wondering why I did not feel this same spirit every week as I partook of the sacrament. I looked around at the Saints, and I realized that they had come hungering and thirsting for the sacrament. Their faith, diligence, and patience brought all of us blessings. I pledged to myself that whenever I again partook of the sacrament, I would remember this experience with the Kigali Saints. I committed that I too would hunger for the blessings of partaking of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper.
Sister Renlund: I remember that sacrament meeting so well. The Kigali Saints had anticipated for months the opportunity to partake of the sacrament. They brought a remarkable spirit that inspired me.

Several years ago Sister Packer and I went to Oxford University. We were looking for the records of my seventh great-grandfather John Packer. Dr. Poppelwell, the head of Christ’s College at Oxford, was kind enough to have the archivist of Christ’s College bring the records. There in the year 1583, we found my ancestor’s name, John Packer.

The following year we returned to Oxford to present a beautifully bound set of the standard works for the library at Christ’s College. It seemed a bit awkward for the head of Christ’s College, Dr. Poppelwell. Perhaps he thought we were not really Christians. So he called for the college chaplain to receive the books.

Before handing them to the chaplain, I opened the Topical Guide and showed him references to one subject: 18 pages, very fine print, single-spaced, listing references to the one subject of Jesus Christ. It is the most comprehensive compilation of scriptural references on the subject of Jesus Christ that has ever been assembled in the history of the world—a testimony from the Old and New Testaments, Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, and Pearl of Great Price.

However you follow these references, I told him, side to side, up and down, book to book, subject after subject, you will find that they are a consistent harmonious witness to the divinity of the mission of the Lord Jesus Christ—His birth, His life, His teachings, His Crucifixion, His Resurrection, and His Atonement.

The atmosphere changed and we were cordially given a tour, including an excavation revealing recently discovered murals which dated to Roman days.

The place was Nauvoo in the 1840s. Because the Latter-day Saints had been refused the right to bear arms for protection, a group of boys formed a troop and armed themselves with jackknives and sticks and walked the streets following undesirable strangers. Whittling and whistling, they eventually ran the stranger off the streets of Nauvoo. The name of the troop was “The Whittlin’ Whistlin’ Brigade.”

They might look like ordinary girls, but today they’re actually chefs in training. About once a month, these activity day girls from the Whittier Ward in the Salt Lake Wells Stake try out a recipe from the Friend. “Cooking is much more fun if you do it together!” said Annika C., age 11.
Today the girls went bananas making banana chocolate-chip bread and funny banana faces. You can see their bread recipe on the page to the right.

Hastily, John Salinger wrote down the details of the assignment on the back of the list of materials to read: three-page paper due on the fifth, about world hunger, use the list of materials to be read.
The bell rang, and John walked down the hall toward the cafeteria.
When the Mormon students who ate lunch together were seated in their usual places in the cafeteria, John asked the question: “Did Mr. Perkins give your class an assignment on population and hunger today?”
Soon it was established that not only had John’s government class received the assignment, but also Kamio Kamura’s economics class, as well as Julie’s history class.
“It seems as though I’ve received a similar assignment at least once each semester from one teacher or another for the last three years. If it isn’t overpopulation, it’s abortion or world hunger,” added Lisa.
“And the material in the reading list makes it pretty clear what your conclusions are supposed to be: The world is overcrowded. No one should have a large family. Abortions are needed to control population growth. We don’t have enough food! But, I don’t believe all that!” protested Julie.
“Maybe we’re being unfair to the teachers,” said John. I think Mr. Perkins and the other teachers give assignments on these subjects because they are really concerned about them. And many of them agree with what the Church teaches.”
“Maybe so, John,” answered Lisa, “but how do we do the assignment when the teacher’s opinions don’t seem to agree with what the Church teaches?”
These young people have asked some interesting questions. Frequently, the opinions of teachers will differ from Church policies, the statements of Church leaders, and the scriptures.
“Let’s go talk to Mr. Morgan,” said John. “He has taught at this school for a long time and he has been a bishop and a seminary teacher even longer.”
“I can understand that you have a problem,” said Bishop Morgan, “but it’s not the problem you mentioned. You are assuming that you may use only the sources on Mr. Perkin’s reading list and that you must reach the same conclusions as the authors on that list. I have no doubt,” continued the bishop, “that you are welcome to use other sources, and to state other points of view, and to reach different conclusions if that is what your research leads you to.”
“But are there books and articles that support what the Church teaches?” asked Lisa.
“Certainly,” replied Bishop Morgan. “There are few fields of study without controversy. Honest, sincere researchers, working with the same data, may come to widely different conclusions and then publish documented articles and books in support of their conclusions.
“Some scientists are sure the world is overcrowded with four billion people. Others feel that the earth is capable of providing well for 40 or 50 or even 100 billion people.
“And among social scientists the differences of opinion are probably even greater because they work with the most complex subject of all: people. That’s why you get strong conflicting opinions like these. There are no easy answers.
“As Latter-day Saints, we are fortunate to have revealed truth to guide us in these controversial subjects, and we should be grateful for that. And there are many researchers, both LDS and otherwise, whose writings agree with what the Lord has revealed. Your problem is simply to find these writings and then decide which of them will be useful in your assignments.”
In the next three weeks John, Julie, and Kamio did a lot of hard work. Working together, they carefully read everything on Mr. Perkin’s reading list and then began doing research in both the school and public libraries.
They contacted various social service and government agencies and obtained some useful materials, references and statistics. Other teachers were consulted.
John and Julie and Kamio received top grades for their work in presenting the Church’s position. They were invited to present their findings to their respective classes and to answer questions from other students. They were well prepared with information to support their beliefs.
Best of all, they learned that there really are good and valid reasons for the Church’s position concerning difficult moral issues. They discovered that some teachers with strong opinions respect students who do good, thorough research, even when they disagree with them. And they learned that the gospel of Jesus Christ is always in harmony with the truth from whatever source.

I really enjoy listening to the talks given during general conference. Last April, one of my favorites was Elder Gary E. Stevenson’s talk. He talked about the Holy Ghost and how He comforts us.
Elder Stevenson’s talk reminded me of when my little sister was diagnosed with Guillain-Barré syndrome. Her muscles got really weak, and she was in a lot of pain. She was in the hospital for a week for treatments. During those terrible days, I remembered being comforted by the Holy Ghost. When I would pray, I would hear Him say that she would be OK.
My sister had to learn how to walk again, but after a few months of physical therapy, she could walk and play like she used to. I was so glad to see her happy again. I am thankful to have the Holy Ghost always with me. Listening to general conference helps me understand more about the gospel and grow my testimony.

We had barely arrived in our motel room when the phone rang. I knew it would be bad news about Jodi, my nine-month-old sister. She had been in a coma since birth and required round-the-clock monitoring and special tubal feedings. We had left Jodi temporarily at a care center so our family could take a much-needed vacation.
I answered the phone. My grandpa was on the line. His voice was firm: “Get your dad.”
Their conversation ended quickly. My fears were confirmed. Jodi had died.
The next day, after we had arrived home, I breathed a sigh of relief. The school bus was at the top of the street. My friends would be coming. At last I would have somebody my own age to share my pain.
However, as I stood in my driveway waiting for my friends, something strange happened. It was almost as if I had become invisible. I watched as my friends crossed to the other side of the street and continued talking with one another. They didn’t even look at me.
The next morning my friends didn’t pick me up as they usually did. “That’s understandable,” I thought. They probably knew I wasn’t going to school because of funeral planning. But they didn’t come the next day or the next or the next. They didn’t wait for me after school either.
During this time my family received lots of support from the Relief Society and other ward members. However, chicken casserole did little to soothe my 13-year-old aching heart. When I returned to Mutual, my adviser gave a lesson on life after death. I started crying. My adviser looked down and continued reading. My classmates stared ahead. I sobbed. How I wished somebody would have cried with me or put her arms around me.
Looking back on these events, I realize that my friends were not cruel and uncaring. They just didn’t know how to respond to my pain. They assumed that I wanted to be left alone to grieve and, since I was in mourning, I would not want to do anything fun.

When I was very little, I suffered various forms of abuse and mistreatment from a member of my family and someone else outside of my family. Because of that abuse, I grew up with fear, hatred, and a lot of resentment in my heart. At times I believed I was the cause of what had happened to me, and I felt guilty. I felt like the dirtiest human being in the world. And I carried those feelings with me growing up.
However, everything changed when I was 20 and missionaries knocked on my door to share a special message with me—a message full of faith, love, and hope. They told me about the gospel of Jesus Christ.
As I listened to them, I felt the peace and tranquility in my heart that had been missing for most of my life. I could honestly feel that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ truly loved me and that my value had not diminished despite everything I had gone through. Could this be the way to finally be free of the guilt and shame I had carried with me throughout my life?
The missionaries continued to visit and teach me, and only two months later I was baptized. I had never been so happy in my entire life. As I kept learning more and more, the principles and teachings of the gospel showed me how I could (it was actually possible!) find the strength to move forward with peace, forgive, and end the conflict I had carried for so long in my heart.1
I was especially comforted by the words of Elder Patrick Kearon of the Seventy during general conference when he spoke of abuse. He taught:
“You are not defined by these terrible things that have been done to you. You are, in glorious truth, defined by your eternally existing identity as a son or daughter of God …
“With arms outstretched, the Savior offers the gift of healing to you. With courage, patience, and faithful focus on Him, before too long you can come to fully accept this gift. You can let go of your pain and leave it at His feet.”2
I know now that I am not guilty of what happened to me—I was a victim of others’ terrible actions.
I am so thankful for the healing power of Jesus Christ. Learning about Him and striving to follow Him has helped me move forward with the knowledge that He suffered for me and understands everything I have been through. Learning that He bore my burdens alone so that I would never have to was an amazing realization for me and has deepened my faith in Him.
But my own turmoil about my abuse wasn’t the only part of me that needed healing. I learned that Jesus Christ, through the power of His Atonement, will not only cleanse us of our sins but also comfort us and help us to move forward, grow, and forgive those who have hurt us deeply.
Forgiving is hard, and sometimes it may seem impossible. It did for so long in my case. But as I focused on recovering from the repercussions of abuse, I realized that I could work toward forgiveness slowly over time because it was necessary for complete recovery.
President Russell M. Nelson recently taught us about ending conflicts in our lives. He said: “If forgiveness presently seems impossible, plead for power through the atoning blood of Jesus Christ to help you. As you do so, I promise personal peace and a burst of spiritual momentum.”3
To free my soul from hatred and resentment, I relied on the Savior to help me truly forgive and let go of the conflict in my heart. It was a long process, but as I exercised faith, I did feel the reassuring love and peace of the Savior replace those negative emotions I had carried for so long. I was finally able to realize that although the past can’t be erased or changed, it can be accepted and overcome, and that helped me feel so much hope for the future.
Despite what I believed when I was young, the Lord is with us through everything. He loves us with infinite love. I was so hopeless about my life circumstances, but He showed me how He can help us turn our worst suffering into beautiful faith and strength.
I love this gospel and have no doubts about the path I have taken as a disciple of Jesus Christ. I know in my heart that Jesus Christ and my Heavenly Father love me—and each one of us. They stand ready to help us do the seemingly impossible, especially if the impossible involves forgiving the seemingly unforgivable. Be strong, persevere, have faith, and you will be very blessed.
I know I have been.

Anna Matilda Anderson huddled with her mother and sister, Ida, under the black umbrella. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the train approach. She shivered. This train would take her from Sweden and begin her journey to America.
“Be good and listen to Elder Carlson,” Anna’s mother whispered in Swedish. She held the girls close. Elder Carlson was a missionary who had been serving in Sweden for three years, since Anna was eight. Now it was time for him to return to his family in Idaho, in the United States.
When Mamma had decided to send Anna and Ida to America to escape the persecution in Sweden, Elder Carlson had offered to watch over them. Now he stood by the train. He motioned for the two girls to join him. Ida hugged her mother tightly and moved forward, but Anna stayed behind.
“I love you,” Anna said. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too. Now listen closely. If you come to a place where you can’t understand what the people are saying, don’t forget to pray to your Father in Heaven because He can understand you.”
Still thinking of her mother’s words, Anna got on the train with Ida and Elder Carlson. She had been excited about her first ride on a train, but now she only wanted one last glimpse of Mamma. The train was too tall for her to see people’s faces, but she smiled when she saw her mother’s black umbrella held high above the crowd. It reminded her that Mamma was watching.
With a great bellow of smoke, the train lurched forward. At first it moved so slowly that Mamma ran beside the train. The black umbrella waved at Anna. But soon the black umbrella disappeared from view. Anna leaned against the windowpane. She knew it would be a long time before she saw Mamma again.
There had not been enough money for Mamma to buy a ticket. A family in Ogden, Utah, had paid for Ida’s passage to America. Ida would stay with them on their farm and work to repay them. But Anna would stay with her aunt in Salt Lake City. Anna’s aunt had gone to Utah several years earlier, and Mamma had written to tell her that Anna was making the long journey too.
After that first train trip, they took a boat over the North Sea to Denmark. Then they sailed to England and Ireland before crossing the Atlantic Ocean and landing in New York City. Anna was seasick for most of the 15-day journey. She was so relieved when she finally stepped off the boat!
“America looks different than Sweden, ja?” she said to Ida as they boarded the train in New York that would take them to Utah.
“Ja,” Ida whispered back in Swedish. “But America is home now, and if we work hard enough, soon we can bring Mamma here too.”
At last they were on the final stretch of their journey. Anna would have been excited for it to end if it didn’t mean losing Ida. There weren’t enough days left!
Finally Anna heard the conductor call, “Ogden, Utah!” She knew no English, but Anna recognized that name. Her heart sank. It sank even further when Elder Carlson stood and picked up his and Ida’s bags.
“Do you have to go?” she asked her sister.
“Yes,” Ida said gently. “Don’t worry, Auntie will be there when you get to Salt Lake City.”
Anna watched from the train as Ida and Elder Carlson met his family at the station. They would take Ida to her new home on the farm and then travel on to Idaho. Now Anna felt truly alone.
To be continued …

I fell prey to that devilish stratagem early in my professional career, as a management consultant. The prestigious Boston firm for which I worked paid well and entrusted me with leadership opportunities beyond my expectations. I became confident to the point of arrogance. Though I served faithfully in the Church, pride in my professional accomplishments led to a significant deficit of humility.

Providentially, I learned the hard way what Solomon taught: “Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.” [iv] When the professional promotions slowed in Massachusetts, I decided to move home to Utah and open a Salt Lake City office of the consulting firm. I quickly discovered that I had overestimated my abilities and underestimated the challenge of selling high-priced consulting services to Utah’s independent and thrifty entrepreneurs. Before long, I had given up on a Salt Lake City office of the consulting firm. I was grateful just to be getting project assignments in distant cities.

In the meantime, my father had been called as an Apostle. Rather than becoming a high-profile person myself, I felt lost in his shadow. Gradually, disappointment and declining confidence began to show up in my hair. Before long I had lost all of it, from head to toe, leading friends to ask worriedly about my physical health. Having planned to become a “big wheel” in Utah, I instead found myself wanting to disappear.

At the time, I felt like a victim of cruel circumstances. Yet, in my pride, I had actually set myself up for an inevitable emotional fall. I had succumbed to worldly temptation without realizing it. In hindsight, I recognize that my striving for professional success was largely selfish. I had rationalized my self-serving behavior as motivated by desires to benefit my family and the Church. I thought that I could simultaneously bless other people while also fulfilling my personal ambitions.

Not realizing these spiritual faults at the time, I began to feel angry toward heaven, which seemed to be the source of my disappointment and despair. In self-pity, and ignoring my unrighteous motives, I wondered why the law of the harvest wasn’t working for me. It seemed that I was being treated unfairly.

Fortunately, Sister Eyring and other loved ones stood by me. Through wise words and kind deeds, they helped me see the need to repent of my pride and seek the healing balm of the Atonement and the ministry of the Holy Ghost. I increased my study of the scriptures. And, at Sister Eyring’s inspired suggestion, I began to keep a personal journal. In time, I began to qualify for Heaven’s blessings, which took a different but far better form than I had imagined.

Monday had finally arrived and Janet was excited. At last it was time for her first day of school in the city.
Janet sat up in bed and stretched. Then she started to unbutton her pajamas.
“Mother! Come quick!” she called.
Mother came running with the juice pitcher still in her hand.
“What are these red spots all over me?” Janet asked.
“You have the measles,” Mother said softly.
“Measles!” Janet echoed. “But I have to go to school!”
“I’m sorry,” Mother said as she tucked Janet back into bed. “You’ll have to wait at least a week to go to school. Now if you’ll lie still, I’ll bring your breakfast to you on a tray.”
Janet lay back on the pillow trying not to cry. “I wish we’d never moved to this new place,” she said to herself. “I’ll never have any friends now.”
“Are you itchy and uncomfortable?” Mother asked when she returned with Janet’s breakfast tray.
“No, it’s just—” A tear rolled down Janet’s cheek. She tried to brush it away, but another soon took its place. “Oh, Mother,” she cried, “I miss my friends so much! How will I ever make new friends when I can’t even go to school?”
Mother put her arm around Janet. “Remember what I told you a long time ago,” she answered. “The only way to have a friend is to be one.”
Janet looked up and asked, “How can I be a friend when there’s no one around?”
“Just keep your eyes open,” said Mother. “You never know when you’ll have the chance to be a friend.”
Janet spent a long lonely day in bed. The next morning she felt better, but the red spots still covered her chest, face, and arms.
After breakfast Mother told her she could put on her robe and sit by the window for a little change.
It seemed strange to look out and see only the wall of another apartment house instead of a beautiful backyard.
Suddenly there was a movement at the window directly across from her. Janet watched as a girl about her age settled herself in front of the window and began to read.
Janet waved to get her attention, but the girl did not see her. Janet had an idea. She took a large sheet of paper and wrote HI on it in large letters. Then she taped the paper to the window and waited impatiently to see what might happen.
A short time later the girl across the way stopped reading and glanced out the window.
In a few minutes she held up a large piece of paper with HI written on it. Under the paper stood a girl with a big smile on her face.
The girls waved at each other. Quickly Janet made another sign. My name is Janet, she wrote. I have measles. Under the words she drew a funny picture of a girl with red spots all over.
The other girl giggled at Janet’s sign. Then she disappeared for a few minutes. Soon she returned with a sign.
I’m Kelly, Janet read. I have a cold. Below the words she had drawn a face with a funny big red nose.
The girls exchanged several more messages. Then Janet asked Kelly for her phone number.
“Look, Mother, no more measles,” Janet said the next Monday morning. “Today I can start school!”
“You really sound happy about that,” Mother replied.
“I am!” Janet said. “I’ll be in the same class as Kelly. She’s going to introduce me to all her friends.” Then she added, “You were right—the only way to have a friend is to be one, and making friends in a big city isn’t any different than it is anywhere else.”

Early in my service as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, I was attending a conference in the Monument Park West Stake in Salt Lake City. My companion for the conference was a member of the General Church Welfare Committee, Paul C. Child. President Child was a student of the scriptures. He had been my stake president when I was an Aaronic Priesthood youth. Now we were together as conference visitors.
When it was his opportunity to participate, President Child took the Doctrine and Covenants and left the pulpit to stand among the priesthood to whom he was directing his message. He turned to section 18 and began to read: “Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God … And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!” (D&C 18:10, 15).
President Child then raised his eyes from the scriptures and asked the question of the priesthood brethren: “What is the worth of a human soul?” He avoided calling on a bishop, stake president, or high councilor for a response. Instead, he selected the president of an elders quorum—a brother who had been a bit drowsy and had missed the significance of the question.
The startled man responded: “Brother Child, could you please repeat the question?” The question was repeated: “What is the worth of a human soul?” I knew President Child’s style. I prayed fervently for that quorum president. He remained silent for what seemed like an eternity and then declared, “Brother Child, the worth of a human soul is its capacity to become like God.”
All present pondered that reply. Brother Child returned to the stand, leaned over to me, and said, “A profound reply; a profound reply!” He proceeded with his message, but I continued to reflect on that inspired response.

I remember reading the account of a man who, just after the passing of his wife, opened her dresser drawer and found there an item of clothing she had purchased when they visited the eastern part of the United States nine years earlier. She had not worn it but was saving it for a special occasion. Now, of course, that occasion would never come.
In relating the experience to a friend, the husband of the deceased wife said, “Don’t save something only for a special occasion. Every day in your life is a special occasion.”
That friend later said those words changed her life. They helped her cease putting off the things most important to her. Said she: “Now I spend more time with my family. I use crystal glasses every day. I’ll wear new clothes to go to the supermarket if I feel like it. The words ‘someday’ and ‘one day’ are fading from my vocabulary. Now I take the time to call my relatives and closest friends. I’ve called old friends to make peace over past quarrels. I tell my family members how much I love them. I try not to delay or postpone anything that could bring laughter and joy into our lives. And each morning, I say to myself that this could be a special day. Each day, each hour, each minute is special.”

I was twelve years old when my grandfather died. To me he was the epitome of a saint—kindly, gentle, purely good.
His death was difficult for me to believe, and it made me very sad. I had not only lost a friend but I was also convinced that somehow heaven had allowed him to die too early. In my childish (though enthusiastic) understanding of the gospel, I had been sure that he was destined to be a great leader in the Church before he left this world. He was a man of great charity, who had literally given his shoes to a beggar knocking at the door, his coat to another man who was colder than he. I was sure that his death came too early. He had too much more service to give.
As I look back now, I see that I equated service with high callings. So many of the Saints have a basic goodness, a charity that qualifies them to be disciples. But serving is not synonymous with position. Whether serving in a visible calling or in secluded corners, disciples follow the example of the Christ. A calling may formalize our work for him, but serving is a blessing available to all of us, whether officially called through the Church organization or in our daily association with others.
My grandfather tried to copy the Savior’s life. My grandfather’s life was not wasted. I was deeply affected by his life, and I’m sure many other people were also influenced by him. I will tell my own children about the patterns of goodness that emerged in his life in simple yet powerful ways. Any one of us can become a disciple by following examples of goodness as he did.