Gospel Story Finder

I was born during a time of political revolution and war in Iran. During that time my mother was a political activist fighting for freedom in our country. One day military personnel barged into our home and arrested my mom, and she went to prison for two and a half years for fighting for what she believed in. Not long after she was released, through miracles, my family left Iran and moved to Los Angeles so my father could do a one-year fellowship at UCLA. Additional miracles led my family toward The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

My mom got baptized thinking she might be sentenced to die for her faith. At the time she had no idea if her family would be able to stay in America, but she was willing to sacrifice everything for God. Later, my parents applied for political asylum, and by the grace of God we were allowed to stay in the U.S.

The sacrifice my mother was willing to make for her faith demonstrated that she gave her heart to God.

Sixteen-year-old Kimberli Lingard left for work one afternoon last summer, having no idea that in a few hours she’d come face-to-face with a killer and be shot twice and left for dead. After what should have been a fatal event, a series of miracles occurred, and now Kim is living proof of God’s blessings in her life.
Kim worked at a laundromat in Grantsville, Utah, a tiny town where everyone knows everyone, and few people lock their doors. The town is located near a major freeway, and in early June 2004, an angry gunman on the run from the police pulled off the freeway into this quiet town. He looked around at local shops for an easy place to rob until he found the laundromat where Kim was working alone.
The man took what little money was in the cash register, shot Kim in the head and shoulder, and fled. With Kim lying on the floor and losing blood fast, time was precious. A woman—only the second customer to come in during Kim’s shift—entered just minutes after the shooting to discover Kim lying in a pool of blood. The woman raced to a nearby restaurant and called the police.
Uncertain if the shooter had left the premises, a brave man from the restaurant rushed to find another priesthood holder, and they gave Kim a blessing. Kim was soon flown to a hospital and immediately underwent seven hours of surgery to remove bullet fragments from her brain.
Kim can’t remember any of this. The last thing she remembers was being alone at work. But her family has a clear recollection of everything after the shooting. They remember turning immediately to the Lord. Her younger sister Rachel says, “I was really scared. I came downstairs and knelt down beside the couch and said a prayer that she’d be okay.”
The 45-minute drive to the hospital was tense, but her little sister Jenessa says, “I just sat there praying the whole time.”
Kim’s friends at school started calling other friends to ask them to fast and pray for their dear friend.
Many hours and prayers later, Kim was stabilized. Three days after being shot, she woke up in the hospital to see her older sister Nicole leaning over her with a tear-stained face. Kim wanted to know what was wrong but couldn’t ask. Her vocal chords had been partially paralyzed from the shooting. Kim couldn’t talk, eat, walk, blink, or smile.
She couldn’t move her right arm or hand, and the doctors weren’t hopeful that she would ever fully recover from her wounds.
Even with Kim’s future uncertain, her family drew comfort from the Holy Ghost and remained positive. The Lingards say there was a special feeling in Kim’s hospital room throughout her stay. Her youngest sister Kristin explained: “When I came into Kim’s room, I didn’t want to go because I felt the Holy Ghost so strongly that I wanted to be in the room more.” This feeling helped the family to be calm and hopeful.
Kim wanted more than anything to be able to play the piano again and wrote a note asking the doctors if it would be possible. She says, “They just got this look in their eyes. They wanted to say yes, but they couldn’t. And from then on, I wanted to prove them wrong. I was going to get well.”
She received another priesthood blessing that she would heal quickly, and with faith and hard work, Kim made astonishing progress.
Kim’s family stayed by her bedside for weeks while she was in the hospital. Every day, her sisters would massage her hands so the nerves might begin to work again. And Kim worked hard to exercise her hand.
Eventually Kim’s voice came back, and she regained movement in her face. Then one day her family came in and found her moving her fingers—something the doctors never expected to see. Kim’s stepmom, Karen, says, “Every day seemed like a week’s worth of recovery. You’d see her the next day, and she’d be doing something they said she may not ever be able to do.”
Kim’s condition improved at a remarkable rate, and she became eager to leave the hospital. Just over three weeks after the shooting, she went home—in time for her 17th birthday. The only obvious change in her appearance was that her hair was shaved short from the surgery.
Still, Kim faced weeks of voice and hand therapy. Although her rehabilitation was difficult and painful, she didn’t complain. Her father, Craig, says, “Her testimony is stronger because she sees how her Heavenly Father has blessed her.”
Kim’s family are no strangers to loss. Her mother died of lung cancer only three years earlier, leaving behind a family of 11 children. And now this challenge. But Kim doesn’t feel the need to ask questions. She simply says, “The Lord knows a lot more than we know.”
The Lingards count their blessings. Brother Lingard says, “I knew that if the Lord preserved her life, we could live with whatever else we had to live with.” Kim’s family was calm as they relied on the Lord for strength.
Kim says, “I think about how the Lord hears our prayers. I know that the Lord knew I could do this. I know that He lives and that He’ll help me, and I’m so glad it was me and not someone else.”
Kim’s testimony left her with a good attitude and peace throughout her struggle. And because of that, Kim says, “I was able to forgive the shooter. I know that he is a son of God, too. He made serious mistakes in his life, and I feel sorry for him.”
From the looks of the half-inch round scar the bullet left on the back of her neck, it seems impossible that anyone could live through such an injury. But these days Kim is driving, painting, playing the piano, and laughing with her sisters. Kim has several lasting effects from the shooting, including weakness in her right arm, no right jaw socket, and total deafness in her right ear.
“The doctors didn’t know if I would ever be able to live a normal life.” But Kim was at school the first day of her senior year, just 11 weeks after the shooting. She graduated with her senior class and is now a freshman at Brigham Young University—Idaho.
Kim has few regrets about what happened. “It just amazes me how aware the Lord is of us. The Lord knows all things. We just need to learn to trust in Him. There are good days and bad days, but He is there for us when we need Him.”

One memory that the Spirit often brings to my mind is of an evening sacrament meeting held many years ago in a metal shed in Innsbruck, Austria. The shed was under a railroad track. There were only about a dozen people present, sitting on wooden chairs. Most of them were women, some younger and some older. I saw tears of gratitude as the sacrament was passed among the small congregation. I felt the love of the Savior for those Saints, and so did they. But the miracle I remember most clearly was the light that seemed to fill that metal shed, bringing with it a feeling of peace. It was nighttime and there were no windows, and yet the room was lit as if by noonday sunshine.
The light of the Holy Spirit was bright and abundant that evening. And the windows that let in the light were the humble hearts of those Saints, who had come before the Lord seeking forgiveness of their sins and committing to always remember Him. It was not hard to remember Him then, and my memory of that sacred experience has made it easier for me to remember Him and His Atonement in the years that have followed. That day the promise in the sacrament prayer that the Spirit will be with us was fulfilled and so brought feelings of light and peace.

I learned that through experiences on both sides of the interview table. By the time I started interviewing for a job, as a graduate student at BYU in Provo, I was at least wearing socks again. But I was still reluctant wear a suit to class. I liked dressing casually, the way everyone else did. It not only helped me fit in, it made me feel young and free. Even on an interview day I came to school in my usual jeans and tennis shoes, carrying a suit and dress shoes in a bag. Just minutes before my interview, I would go to the men’s room and put the suit on. To this day, I can’t walk into the main men’s rooms of the business or law school buildings at BYU without recalling changing in one of those stalls.

Of course, I expected that the interviewer would see only what I intended to convey: maturity and professionalism. But it felt a little funny wearing a suit. My classmates and I used the interview rooms most of the time for study groups. I had spent many long days and nights studying in those rooms. Always it was in jeans and tennis shoes. And my classmates and I spent much of our time talking about sports and TV shows instead of our homework. During those study sessions, when I was dressed casually and acting casually, it never occurred to me I might one day be in that same room with an interviewer. When that unanticipated day came, I felt very unnatural trying to present an entirely different persona. I nervously hoped that the interviewer saw only the competent professional I wanted him or her to see.

It was just one year after graduation, though, that I came back to campus and learned the truth about what an interviewer really sees. By then I was a junior consultant with a Boston-based consulting firm. I had been fortunate enough, with Heaven’s help, to convince the representatives of that firm that I was really ready to leave my jeans and tennis shoes behind. In the twelve months since then I had become quite a different person. With a fast-paced career, a family to provide for, and a significant Church calling, I had regained the focused intensity of the mission field. I was also dressing like a missionary again. Instead of only one suit, the one I had taken to school in a bag, I owned a whole wardrobe of suits. As a young consultant serving clients twice my age, I valued my suit’s signal of maturity and ability.

Of course, all of the dozen or so MBA candidates who came to interview with me dressed up. Most of them, both men and women, wore a suit. But I could tell which ones felt comfortable and which ones didn’t. Part of it was the way they wore their business attire. Some clearly felt out of place being in that familiar room in unfamiliar clothes, just as I had the year before. I found myself wondering where they had stashed the bag with their jeans and their tennis shoes.

But of course the issue wasn’t only one of clothing. The suit was just an outward manifestation that, for some, went deeper. There was a seriousness and an earnestness about a few of the candidates, a maturity that went beyond their knowledge of business school cases. They seemed to have been preparing for the interview not for a few weeks, but for years. Their outward appearance was backed up by an inner fire. I could tell that they were prepared to make the leap to professional life. Everyone who entered the room that day had been screened for top grades, and nearly all dressed appropriately. But only a few were prepared to go where they wanted to go. The others hadn’t paid the price.

Last month I attended a fast and testimony meeting in a freshman ward at BYU. In bearing her testimony, a young woman said that she had come to BYU because her parents had forced her. She said that she was angry that her brother had gone on a mission because she knew she needed him far more than did the people in Thailand. She had listened to the testimonies of others in her ward at the beginning of the year with a degree of disdain. She had asked herself, “How do they know what they say they do? Why are they always so cheerful?” She, by contrast, did not know. She said she had slept through early morning seminary, and she didn’t even want to know. Then, because of her BYU religion class, she started to read the Book of Mormon. She concluded her testimony by indicating that her feelings had changed. She said that she knew it was possible to have faith and hope because she now had it.

May I conclude with a personal experience to help illustrate this becoming process that I’ve been talking about. Again I emphasize the words “I am if I live properly.” Some of you may have heard this experience before, but it bears repeating.

While serving as a mission president, I had the routine procedure of interviewing missionaries as they came into the mission home. I suspect most mission presidents do this.

On one occasion a young man from the East came into my office. He sat down, and I began to talk to him. We had known each other for only a few minutes. In the course of our conversation he started to weep. He bowed his head, and the tears flowed from his eyes. I had never seen tears shed so abundantly. The water just dripped on my carpet. I was tempted to measure the spot that he stained, but I didn’t think that would be decent. I let him cry. After he had cried himself out, I asked, “What’s the trouble?” While he was crying a lot of fears had gone through my heart and through my mind. I thought, “Oh, no, he’s transgressed. This is a belated confession. I may have to send him home.”

Well, he anticipated this. He sensed what I was feeling and turned to me and said, “Oh, no, President, it isn’t what you’re thinking. I haven’t murdered or fornicated or done anything like that.”

“Well, what is it?”

He said, “It’s all the little things that I’ve done during years of growing up. It’s all the foolish, little things that come together now as one. They make me feel as though I am unworthy to serve.”

I put my arm around him, assured him that he wasn’t the only person in the room who was imperfect, and indicated to him that there were many missionaries serving who had had to overcome problems just as he did. With this assurance I turned to the gospel. I read him some scriptures. The one which particularly influenced him is found in section 84 of the Doctrine and Covenants: “For I will forgive you of your sins with this commandment—that you remain steadfast in your minds in solemnity and the spirit of prayer, in bearing testimony to all the world of those things which are communicated unto you” (D&C 84:61). I said, “Elder, I promise you that, if you will serve properly, if you will live properly, you can go home as clean and sanctified as you would like to go.”

He said, “President, I want that more than anything else. Tell me how I’m supposed to serve.”

I enjoyed telling him exactly what had to be done, starting with the getting up in the morning, holding study class, and I went on and on and on.

When I was through outlining all the requisities, he turned to me, shot out his hand, and said, “I pledge that I will.” And he did. The only complaint I ever received from his mission companions in the next two years was “He’s working me to death. I can’t stay up with him.”

He concluded his mission; he left his mark on Texas. He reported to the mission home to say his final testimony. As he bore his testimony, he wept a little and then said, “You don’t know this, but my father is a patriarch. My father is one of the greatest men that ever lived. He is also one of the most demonstrative people you’ll ever find—he kisses everybody. It isn’t unusual in my family for my father to come up to me or to someone else, to put his arms around us, and to kiss us and tell us that he loves us. Before my mission I didn’t enjoy his embraces nor his kisses. Whenever my father came near and tried to pull me toward him, I wanted to shrink away. I know why—I wasn’t worthy of his presence.” Then his eyes clouded and he said, “I can’t wait until I get home tonight. For the first time in my life I feel worthy of my father’s love.” What a lesson in that! What a wonderful day it will be to all of us when—if we live properly, if we become what we should become—we can report back to our Father and he feels inclined to embrace us and say to us, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant.” What greater treasure, what greater reward could we have than that?

I distinctly remember trying to fall asleep on the top bunk in our studio apartment at the end of my first day with my new companion. She was a new missionary—a fireball for sure—and I was her terrified, inexperienced trainer.
I was still a new missionary myself, and to say that I felt overwhelmed was an understatement. The task of navigating the downtown streets of our inner-city area on public transportation felt massive to me. The pressure to build our teaching pool and develop relationships with the members seemed overwhelming. And even though I did my best to make good decisions, my new companion and I often disagreed, and we struggled to get along. It seemed like we were polar opposites, and I became discouraged.
I wanted so badly to just be a good missionary. But things were not going the way I had imagined they would, and I was frustrated.
In the mornings when my companion was in the shower, I spent my alone time kneeling at the folding chair by my desk. One morning as I prayed, I pridefully expressed to Heavenly Father that I couldn’t help but feel that my companion was holding me back from being the missionary I wanted to be.
Then came the humbling epiphany I wasn’t expecting: My companion was not holding me back from being the missionary God wanted me to be. In actuality, being her companion was helping me become the missionary He wanted me to be.
The imperfections and challenges I was facing, though frustrating, were not holding me back. They were helping me to change and grow and progress—not in the way I wanted for myself, but in the way God wanted for me.

A little while back, my friend and I were going to the girls’ washroom at school to wash our hands. We had just been doing an art project and had paste on our fingers. But when we got to the bathroom the sink was a complete disaster! There was soapy water everywhere. My friend and I quickly decided that we should clean it up before washing our hands. When we finished I felt good inside. I have just been baptized and I knew it was the Holy Ghost giving me that warm feeling. I am trying to act more Christlike every day.

Not far from here are some nuclear facilities that include prototypes for nuclear submarines. A nuclear prototype is a place that looks exactly like the real thing, only it is in a controlled environment so people can be taught without life-threatening danger. In those facilities, the individuals who man the nuclear fleet are trained to respond to emergencies automatically.

One day during the shakedown cruise of a real submarine, an accident occurred. The testing was almost over, and the ship was at full submergence depth at flank speed, the fastest it could advance in the water. The helmsman noticed they were at a slight up-angle, so he tilted the bow planes down. In that moment, the power went out. The boat locked in a down dive, and everyone knew that shortly they would be at a depth that would crush the hull. There was panic on board. But one engineer began to pull himself along the floor of the engine room to a compartment. He reached in, turned some switches, and reserve power came on. The emergency was over.

Later he was asked, “How did you know what to do? How did you know how to respond?”

The simple reply was, “I don’t know. I just did it.” Can you imagine him scrambling through the manual trying to find out what to do under that kind of pressure? He had learned in a prototype environment like your homes, like this campus with its classes and church environment. When the pressure came, he was ready. You will be ready because of the quiet resolve and determination in your life to live worthily as you learn from this prototype experience.

Wong Yun Tai remembers the warm September evening in 1984 when her life changed. The Wong family live on the 21st floor of the Wu Yuet House, a government housing project in the Tuen Mun area of Hong Kong’s New Territories. That evening, 15-year-old Wong Yun Tai, who goes by the English name Belle, was eating dinner when a knock came at her door. Two strangers wearing white shirts, ties, and curious black name tags were at the door. They talked to her through the metal gate that remained locked even though the door was open.
Belle was busy eating, so she told her two visitors to come back in an hour. “I was interested in religion, and I really wanted to know what was true. I was just like Joseph Smith. I really wanted to know which church was God’s true church,” recalls Belle.
When the missionaries returned, she listened politely to their message. Afterward, they gave her a Book of Mormon to read, said a prayer, and then left. It was a simple meeting, but it had a powerful effect on Belle. “When I prayed, I had a very unique, good feeling in my heart,” she says.
A month later, Belle was baptized. Then the real work began. Belle, the second oldest child of Wong Hong Tsuen and Wong Leung Nan Ho, wanted her parents and brothers and sisters to experience the same gospel joy that had become such an important part of her life. She began sharing what she had learned.
Now, more than a decade later, she’s still sharing. Since those humble beginnings, seven of the eight Wong children have joined the Church, as have Mom and Dad. Belle served a mission in Hong Kong. So did two younger sisters, Angela and May.
The example Belle set for her family has made a big impression on her youngest sister, Wong Cho Ho—who goes by the English name of Rambo—and her younger brother, Wong Wah Kan (Simon), both of whom are now teenagers.
“Before I was a member, I’d always notice Belle,” says Simon, who was baptized in 1992. “She wasn’t lazy. Every Sunday she’d get up and go to church. When Belle was a missionary, she was a good example to my family and she helped us.”
Rambo, who adopted her unique English name several years ago, also credits her sister’s influence in her own conversion. “When I was younger, I began going to church with Belle each Sunday, even though I hadn’t been baptized,” she recalls, “but I wouldn’t take the sacrament.”
This is where the story takes an ironic twist.
“A lot of members of the ward would look at me and think I was a member,” she continues. “They would ask me to be a fellowshipper for the missionaries’ investigators, even though I was still an investigator myself. As I got older, my testimony began to develop, and I learned more about the Church.”
When Rambo was finally baptized in 1990, she joined Belle in teaching gospel principles to their other sisters, Mandy, May, Angela, and Agnes, as well as to Simon. She also continued “officially” fellowshipping other investigators at church each Sunday. “When I was a kid, I liked to play and have fun. But when I got older, I received a testimony—a true testimony —and I wanted to share it,” Rambo says.
One of the first people Rambo wanted to share the gospel with was her sister Agnes. She invited Agnes to church. “When I first went to church,” says Agnes, who is two years older than Rambo, “I was pretty bored. I liked to talk to the missionaries, but I didn’t like to talk about the Church. But Rambo would try to help me understand more about the gospel. Finally I decided to investigate the Church because Belle was so serious and made so many sacrifices for the Church, and I could see what the Church was beginning to mean to Rambo.”
Rambo also talked about the gospel with Simon and helped him with his decision to be baptized.
And so the sharing went: Two missionaries talked to Belle. Belle joined the Church and began fellowshipping Rambo. Rambo was baptized and began talking about the gospel with Agnes and Simon. Agnes and Simon were baptized, and they were followed by Mandy, the Wongs’ oldest daughter, and May, Angela, and their parents.
Simon likes to think back to the time when he began seriously investigating the gospel. He remembers praying for the first time. “I didn’t know how to pray or what I should say,” he remembers. “But I always felt good when I prayed.”
Before Simon joined the Church, Sundays were reserved for rest and relaxation. He would generally sleep in, then get up and play soccer with his friends. These days, his friends don’t even bother asking him to play games on the Sabbath. “I’ve already told them I don’t do that, and they understand why I don’t and what I do instead,” he says. Sundays for Simon generally consist of attending church meetings and reading the scriptures. “I love studying in the Book of Mormon—especially about Lehi and the faith he had. My own faith isn’t great, so it’s good for me to read about someone who was so strong.”
Belle loves to talk about the positive impact the gospel has had on her family, but she deflects any credit given to her. Instead, she says, “I don’t know how much help I’ve been to my family, but I do know Heavenly Father has helped my family a lot.”
Her family disagrees with Belle’s assessment of her role. Each night as they sit down to dinner, they look at one another and see living proof of Belle’s gospel-sharing legacy.

When I first met Will, I felt sorry for him. Still, I didn’t dare help him out, because I was worried about what the other guys would think.
Will came to school six weeks after it started. Everyone else already had their own bunch of friends, and nobody seemed to need Will. Besides, he was a little different. He came to school that first Monday morning wearing a pair of ragged jeans and a faded T-shirt.
Will was kind of quiet, too, seeming to hide underneath a beat-up baseball cap. He crept into our fifth-grade class that first morning and quietly took his seat in the back of the room. He answered “Here,” when Mrs. Collins called the roll, and when she asked him where he came from, he mumbled, “Blue Lakes, Kansas.” Nobody knew where Blue Lakes was, and nobody seemed to care.
That was all Will said that first morning. At noon he ate his sack lunch by himself, with his arms around his paper bag like he didn’t want anyone to see what he had—one sandwich and an apple.
“He’s weird all right,” I heard Ronny snicker down the table from me. Several others joined in the laughter as they stared at Will sitting alone two tables over. I ducked my head and picked at the pizza I had on my tray. I wished I could help Will, but I didn’t know how.
A few minutes later, though, I had forgotten about him. What was really on my mind was our lunchtime football game. Ronny, who had brought his football from home, and Larry were the two captains. Ronny chose me right off, and soon the sides were picked. And there was Will, all alone, standing between the two teams, looking from Ronny to Larry.
“You can’t play today,” Ronny growled, rolling the football in his hands. “The teams are even right now. We don’t need anybody else.”
Will wet his lips, looked down, kicked at the grass with his dirty shoe, turned around, and wandered off to the edge of the field with his hands stuffed in his pockets. All of a sudden I had this deep-down sick feeling, and I hurt for him. I wanted to call out that we’d played with uneven teams before, but I didn’t say anything.
I tried to keep my mind on football that afternoon, but it was tough. Every time I ran out for a pass or went to block someone, I saw Will out of the corner of my eye, just sitting there at the edge of the field, watching and wishing that he were part of the game.
“Did you have butter on your fingers today, Brett?” Ronny questioned me after the bell rang and we started for class. “You missed half my throws.”
I shook my head and shrugged. “I guess it’s just one of my bad days.”
As we headed for class, I could tell that we were going to walk right past Will. He was still sitting cross-legged on the ground and picking at blades of grass. I wanted to say something so he wouldn’t feel completely alone. I knew what being alone was like. I’d been new at school two years earlier. Just before I got to Will, he looked right at me, but I chickened out because I was walking with Ronny. I turned my eyes down and walked past him. I felt sick inside all over again.
That afternoon Mrs. Collins had us get into groups to work on a science project. Right then I thought about walking over and inviting Will to work with me, but Ronny grabbed my arm and said, “Come on, Brett, work with Danny and me, or Mrs. Collins is going to stick you with the new kid.” He made it sound like working with Will would be the worst thing that could happen to a guy. Will ended up being assigned to work with Nancy and Angela when no one picked him for their group.
By the time I got home from school, I’d stopped thinking about him. But something Dad said during family home evening brought him back to my mind. Dad was giving a lesson on the Holy Ghost. He explained how the Holy Ghost could warn us when we were in danger. He said that Wilford Woodruff’s life had been saved many times because he had listened to the Holy Ghost. One time Wilford Woodruff had camped for the night and tied his horses to a big tree. During the night the Holy Ghost warned him to move his horses. Right after he moved them, a big storm tore up the tree where the horses had been.
Dad told a story of when he himself was younger and had wanted to go on a trip with some friends. The Holy Ghost had warned his mother not to let him go. Dad stayed home, and the friends who went on the trip were in a serious accident.
“Have you ever felt the Holy Ghost in your life, Brett?” Dad asked me.
Even though I had been baptized and had received the gift of the Holy Ghost, I couldn’t remember a time when the Holy Ghost had told me anything. “I guess you have to be older for the Holy Ghost to talk to you,” I complained, feeling a bit cheated. “Maybe He doesn’t have anything to tell me. Or maybe I just don’t need His help.”
“Although the Holy Ghost might speak to you in a voice,” Dad explained, “the Spirit isn’t necessarily something you hear.”
“Most of the time it’s not what you hear, but what you feel,” Mom joined in. “You might have a good feeling when you make a right choice. Or you have a sick or sorry feeling when you choose something wrong.”
Suddenly it was like a light went on inside my mind. I thought of Will. I remembered the feelings I’d had that day to say hello to him, to let him play football, and to ask him to be in my science group. I wondered if the Holy Ghost had tried to speak to me, and I hadn’t listened.
I was really quiet after that because I didn’t want my family to know about Will and me. I wanted the Holy Ghost to warn me and protect me as He had with Wilford Woodruff and Dad, but I wasn’t sure I wanted Him telling me to be nice to Will. That wouldn’t help me—it would make things hard for me! How could I be nice to Will when everybody else thought he was weird?
Dad asked me to say the closing prayer in home evening, and I asked Heavenly Father to help us listen to the Holy Ghost and do what He told us to do. As I prayed, I tried not to think of Will, because I was afraid of what the Spirit might tell me.
I had a hard time getting to sleep that night, but by morning I’d forgotten about Will again. I was anxious to get to school. As I rushed out my bedroom door, I spotted my new football just inside the closet. Ineed to take that to school today, I thought as I charged toward the kitchen. Two more times before I left the house, I thought of my football, but I still forgot to take it until I was half a block down the street. Remembering, I raced back to the house, grabbed the ball, and sprinted off to school.
No one was any friendlier to Will on Tuesday than they’d been on Monday, but I figured there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Then when we got ready to go out for morning recess, Ronny called to me, “Hey, Brett, bring your ball. I forgot mine. You can be one of the captains.”
At first I was excited to be a captain, but as everyone gathered so Ronny and I could choose up teams, I spotted Will. I remembered Dad’s lesson on the Holy Ghost, and I knew why I’d brought my football that morning. I fidgeted and felt a scary twisting in my stomach, because I knew that bringing the ball to school was the easy part. The hard part was still ahead of me, and it was like the Holy Ghost was telling me exactly what to do. I looked around. Everybody was waiting for Ronny and me to choose. I began to wish that I had left my ball shut up in the closet at home.
Ronny chose Larry first. I chose Rusty. Ronny chose Danny. I wasn’t hearing a voice, but the feeling inside told me what I was supposed to do. I wasn’t sure if I was brave enough to do it. Everyone expected me to choose Robby, but I knew that I wasn’t supposed to make the easy choice. I was supposed to make the right one. “I’ll take Will,” I rasped.
Everybody was quiet for a moment. Will looked surprised, and then he shuffled over to join my team, keeping his head down and not looking at anybody.
“Why’d you want him?” Ronny growled.
“I figure he’s pretty good,” I muttered, shrugging. I could feel my cheeks burn a glowing red, but my insides didn’t twist and turn like they had before.
We took the kickoff. I was playing quarterback, and as soon as the ball was hiked, I searched for a receiver. Everybody was covered—everybody but Will. The other team had forgotten him, hadn’t even worried about him. He was pretty far down the field, but I decided to give him a chance. I cocked my arm and let the ball fly. It was a little over his head, but he reached for it, pulled it down, cradled it against his chest, and was racing for the goal line before Ronny’s team knew what was happening. He made our first touchdown.
A few plays later Ronny threw the ball to Larry. He wasn’t even watching Will—I guess he figured that Will’s first catch was all luck. But before Larry realized that Will was anywhere near, Will stepped in front of him, snatched the ball from the air, and charged down the field for his second touchdown.
“Hey, where’d you learn to play ball, Will?” Ronny demanded as we walked to class after recess.
“Football and baseball were about all we ever played in Blue Lakes,” Will answered, smiling shyly and ducking his head.
“Well, you’re playing for me this afternoon. Brett had his turn this morning.”
Will looked over at me. I smiled and nodded, feeling a warm swelling inside me. I was glad that I had learned to listen with more than my ears.

Let me share a more recent example of the value of pondering. President Hinckley was in the Mexican colonies visiting the Saints. While riding back from those colonies, he was pondering how far away the temples were from the people. He thought how wonderful it would be for the Saints if we could take the temples to them, rather than having them traveling so far to get to a temple. Into his mind came the idea of a small temple design that was less costly and simpler than traditional temples. President Hinckley took out a small piece of paper, and sketched out what he saw in his mind’s eye; what we now refer to as the “small temple design.”

He returned home to Salt Lake City and subsequently challenged the Presiding Bishopric to set about aggressively building more temples following this small design. In one meeting he quipped: “I would like to see 100 temples operating before I die.” Well, that meant the Presiding Bishopric had to build a lot of temples, because we only had about half that many at the time. The Presiding Bishopric responded by vigorously ramping up the work and, in a relatively few short years, they hired more professionals, divided the department, went vigorously to work building these temples. They met and actually exceeded the prophet’s challenge. President Hinckley’s goal of 100 operating temples before the year 2000 was surpassed. Today, the work continues under the direction of an inspired temple-building prophet of the Lord. We now have 124 operating temples in the world.

Jacob’s heart pounded as he bent into position. He shifted his weight back and forth at the starting line. The starter pointed his gun straight in the air and everything went silent.
“Bam!”
Jacob dashed into the water and began kicking his legs and churning his arms as fast as he could. This was Jacob’s first triathlon, and he wanted to do his best. He had been training hard. He was on the neighborhood swim team, and he had competed in a lot of running races. He knew he had a good chance of doing well.
Jacob finished the 50-meter swim in second place and ran to his bike. He dried off, threw on his shirt and shoes, fastened his helmet, and pedaled out of the transition area.
Jacob was supposed to ride about two miles (3.2 km) on his bike, but he wasn’t sure how long it would take. He came to an orange cone, but there wasn’t anyone to direct him. It looked like another boy had turned around at the cone, so he did too. He pedaled back to the transition area and got ready to run.
Jacob ran the last part of the course so hard he thought his lungs would burst, but he felt good when he crossed the finish line. He felt even better when he realized he was in first place!
He found Mom in the crowd, but she wasn’t smiling. “Jacob, are you sure you did the bike part of the race right?” she asked.
“I think so,” Jacob said.
“Your time is so fast,” Mom said. “I think you missed part of the course.”
“Let’s go walk through the bike course,” Dad said. “You can tell me where you rode your bike.”
Jacob and Dad started walking along the course, with Dad holding the course map. When they got to the orange cone, Jacob saw other bikers going past the cone—not turning around. Dad checked the map. The cone wasn’t the turn-around point. Jacob had accidentally missed a third of the course.
Jacob held back tears. He knew he had to tell the race officials he had made a mistake, but he didn’t want to. That meant he would be disqualified and that he wouldn’t get the first-place trophy.
Jacob walked up to a race official. “Excuse me,” Jacob said. “I wanted to tell you that I made a mistake. I missed a part of the bike course, so my time probably shouldn’t count.”
“It took a lot of courage to tell us that,” the official said. “Thanks.”
Jacob nodded, but his eyes filled with tears. Mom gave him a hug.
“I want to go home,” Jacob said. He felt tired and defeated.
But then he heard the race official on the microphone.
“It’s been quite a race!” he said. “And we saw a great example of good sportsmanship today. We had a boy who would have won first place, but he was honest enough to admit that he made a mistake on the bike course. I want everybody to give him a big cheer.”
A cheer went up from the crowd. It took Jacob a second to realize what was happening. They were cheering for him! Not because he had won, but because he had done the right thing.
On the way home, Dad told Jacob stories about other athletes who had made mistakes. He learned that everybody makes mistakes. He also learned that sometimes being honest gets you the biggest cheer of all.

Illustration by Ellerie Arnold
I had just dropped off my daughter at a friend’s house when I received a call from my husband, Jonathan. He told me that our 11-year-old son, Aiden, had been hit by a car while he and Jonathan were crossing the street.
The driver had made a left turn in front of Jonathan and didn’t see Aiden on his bike. The driver hit the front of Aiden’s bike. He flew up into the air, still holding onto the bike, and hit his head on the side of the car when he came down. Then he landed on the road with his bike on top of him. Thankfully, he was wearing a helmet. The driver and several other people stopped to help while Jonathan called for an ambulance.
My mind and emotions suddenly went into a frenzy. I sped toward the intersection where the accident had occurred, hoping to catch the ambulance so I could be with Aiden.
Thoughts of lashing out at the driver raced through my mind. “What on earth was the driver thinking?” I thought. “Were they drunk? Were they on their phone?” I was furious and beyond worried. I had no idea how badly Aiden was hurt.
When I arrived at the scene, the ambulance had already left. Only a couple of police cars and a car parked on the side of the road remained at the scene. A distressed-looking woman stood next to the car.
I approached her and asked, “Did you see who hit my son?”
She quietly said, “I did.”
I envisioned myself yelling at the careless person who had hit my son, but when I came face to face with the driver, the negativity disappeared. I found myself crying and hugging her. She apologized, and I told her that everything would be OK. I found out later that those were the exact words Aiden had said to her before the police arrived. In the end, Aiden made it through with only some scrapes and bruises.
I am grateful that at that pivotal moment, our loving Heavenly Father blessed me with the strength to extend forgiveness instead of hate, even when I didn’t ask Him to. I know He is aware of us and always offers us His help.

I am a Boy Scout. At one meeting, a boy in my patrol wanted to bet me a dollar that I would not make a hoop on my next shot. I know betting isn’t good, so I told him that I don’t bet. Lucky for me, he didn’t call me a chicken or anything. Also lucky for me that I didn’t bet. For one thing, I would have had a guilty conscience. I would also have felt embarrassed because I would be one dollar poorer than I am today!
Sadek Sabbah, age 11Chandler, Arizona

I recall a simple incident that occurred in our family years ago. My husband and I were away from home, and our oldest son was babysitting the other children. We received a call from a concerned neighbor alerting us that a firetruck was at our house. We raced home and found that our 10-year-old son had been playing in the backyard next to a six-acre field of tall, dry grass. He was trying to see if he could start a fire with sparks.

Obviously, he did! By the time we arrived, the small fire had been extinguished by the fire department, the firemen had lectured our son, and the neighbors were beginning to disperse. Our son was embarrassed, frightened, tearful, and knew he was surely in trouble.

We all went into the house. Our son was so afraid that, even though the situation was serious, all we could do was wrap our arms around this sweet boy and reassure him of our love and our relief that he wasn’t hurt.

I particularly noticed this some time ago when I talked with a group of about 20 Laurels whom I had never met before. I asked them what their goals were. The first few mentioned educational goals such as getting a PhD; some said they would like to go on a mission—all worthy goals. Finally one girl timidly expressed the desire to be a mother. Then a few more girls talked about other goals. After one more girl mentioned motherhood, the rest of them joined in. But it was quite courageous for those first two girls to admit they wanted to be mothers. And this was in a very safe setting.
Besides the fact that admitting this goal may set a girl up for ridicule, it may also set her up for feeling like a failure. She knows she doesn’t have complete control over achieving this goal, which may make her feel vulnerable in stating it. It is also a goal that requires great unselfishness; it may require setting aside other more glamorous goals. I am sensitive to the many issues facing our young women, but I still feel that I must teach eternal principles.
I would like to affirm motherhood, to talk about the newest phrase in our Young Women theme: “be prepared to strengthen home and family.” I will address five things we as parents and leaders must do for our young women.
All families, from the best to the most troubled, are in need of strengthening. Elder Robert D. Hales of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said, “If we think other families don’t have any difficulties or any problems, we just don’t know them well enough.” We need to encourage girls to turn to their mothers and fathers not only to receive help but to give help.
Several of our general board members grew up in homes with parents who were less active in the Church. One of them had a wise Young Women leader who counseled her to be with her family when they did recreational things on Sunday but to maintain her personal standards. So if they went to a swimming club, she would go with them to visit with them, but she herself would not go swimming. She was able to build a tender relationship with her family.
I know a young woman who ruefully saw her brother associating with the wrong group of friends. After praying fervently for him one night, she followed an impression to pick him up from the party he was attending. She drove around with him for some time just talking to him about who he was as a member of their family and who he was as a member of Heavenly Father’s family and of his responsibility to honor those identities. He was able to turn things around in his life, partially because of the love of his sister.
Youth often feel lonely or isolated either socially or spiritually. Friendships and close ties with their brothers and sisters are the best antidote. One teenager was rejected by a group of girls at her school. Her brothers and sisters eased her sorrow by including her in their activities and giving her extra doses of love.
All these are examples of young women who strengthened their homes and families. Serving families is a way of covenant keeping, and covenant keeping reaps the promised blessing of having the Spirit in our lives. We must help our young women begin where they are, in whatever kind of family they are in, to strengthen their homes and families.
I believe that one way we can arm our girls spiritually is to help them develop temporal skills or talents. We know that to the Lord all things are spiritual (see D&C 29:34).
Homemaking skills are becoming a lost art. I worry about this. When we lose the homemakers in a society, we create an emotional homelessness much like street homelessness, with similar problems of despair, drugs, immorality, and lack of self-worth. In a publication called The Family in America, Bryce Christensen writes that the number of homeless people on the street “does not begin to reveal the scope of homelessness in America. For since when did the word home signify merely physical shelter, or homelessness merely the lack of such shelter? … Home [signifies] not only shelter, but also emotional commitment, security, and belonging. Home has connoted not just a necessary roof and warm radiator, but a place sanctified by the abiding ties of wedlock, parenthood, and family obligation; a place demanding sacrifice and devotion, but promising loving care and warm acceptance.”
So we must teach homemaking skills, including practical ones such as cooking, sewing, budgeting, and beautifying. We must let young women know that homemaking skills are honorable and can help them spiritually as well as temporally. Making a home appealing physically will encourage loved ones to want to be there and will help create the kind of atmosphere that is conducive to the Spirit.
Sunday lessons, Mutual, and Personal Progress are all programs that provide times and ways to teach these necessary lessons. I think of my own experience as a Laurel adviser. The young women in my stewardship had one year until they would be out in the world on their own. I asked them what they needed to know to be ready for that independence. From their list of needs—balancing a checkbook, applying for colleges and jobs, cooking something besides cookies, and so forth—we planned our Mutual activities. I no longer had any problems with attendance, because we were preparing skills the young women needed to fulfill their important future roles. I could see that in the process of learning temporal skills, some spiritual skills were developing simultaneously. There was more genuine friendship and concern for one another. Mothers told me that the spiritual tenor of their homes improved as the young women shared some of their newfound skills.
This is what we as parents and leaders must do. We must help young women develop practical and spiritual skills that will bless their future homes.
The two most powerful tools we have to inspire our young women are our examples and our sincere words.
I’ve seen many inspirational Young Women leaders who exemplify living their roles with nobility and joy. I remember the powerful example of my Laurel adviser, who was faithful in rearing her children in the Church even though her husband was less active. I know a young woman whose parents weren’t active in the Church. She was impressionable and teachable and learned well from the examples of her leaders. She learned how to fast and how to hold family home evening by participating with her teachers in these activities.
My best and most consistent example in learning the joys of homemaking and mothering was my own mother. She told me many times every day how much she treasured being a mother and homemaker, and then she lived those words in every action. She sang as she folded laundry; she exulted over the clean smell in a freshly scrubbed bathroom; she taught me how to read and write, sew and cook, love and serve. Because she emanated the Spirit and the fruits of love, joy, peace, meekness, long-suffering, and temperance, I felt it, and I knew I wanted the same things in my life (see Gal. 5:22–23). Her example continues to teach me daily.
I want all of you to know the great joy I feel in being a mother, wife, and homemaker. We should express our joy often through our words, actions, and countenances.
It has been alarming recently to feel the full fury of Satan’s attack on families. Alternative lifestyles, abortion, cohabitation, divorce, immorality, and violence are issues that are screaming in our faces at every turn.
Even though I feel alarm, I do not feel fear. Fear is the opposite of faith. Paul told Timothy that “God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind” (2 Tim. 1:7).
I feel faith in Jesus Christ and in His restored gospel upon the earth. I feel empowered by the truths of the gospel succinctly stated in the proclamation on the family. It takes a stand on each of the issues I just mentioned, as well as others. For example:
Alternative lifestyles: “Gender is an essential characteristic of individual premortal, mortal, and eternal identity and purpose. …
“… We further declare that God has commanded that the sacred powers of procreation are to be employed only between man and woman, lawfully wedded as husband and wife.”
Abortion: “We affirm the sanctity of life and of its importance in God’s eternal plan.”
Cohabitation: “Marriage between man and woman is essential to [God’s] eternal plan.”
Divorce: “Husband and wife have a solemn responsibility to love and care for each other and for their children.”
Immorality: “We warn that individuals who violate covenants of chastity … will one day stand accountable before God.”
Violence: “We warn that individuals who … abuse spouse or offspring … will one day stand accountable before God.”
Not only do I feel strengthened by these truths, I feel loved by a wise and all-knowing Father in Heaven, who has blessed us with prophets and apostles to guide this Church. If our young women can know of His love, if they can have the truths of the gospel embedded in their hearts, they will not fear. With strong testimonies of the gospel and a firm knowledge of eternal doctrines, our young women will have the courage to face a world that is desecrating families.
President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) talked about the influence of strong women of God upon the world: “Much of the major growth that is coming to the Church in the last days will come because many of the good women of the world (in whom there is often such an inner sense of spirituality) will be drawn to the Church in large numbers. This will happen to the degree that the women of the Church reflect righteousness and articulateness in their lives and to the degree that the women of the Church are seen as distinct and different—in happy ways—from the women of the world.”
We are distinct and different in happy ways because we know who we are eternally. We are all divinely appointed to these womanly roles of mothering and nurturing.
My cousin Carrie was a sterling example of a single sister who was a happy, generous, loving woman, blessing all with whom she associated. She was killed in an automobile accident when she was in her late 30s, but her final act of goodness prior to her untimely death was finishing scrapbooks for each of her nieces and nephews. She was fulfilling her mission to the degree that she could within her opportunities.
Now a word to you wonderful Young Women leaders. I hope the Spirit will help you know how to simplify—by that I mean to spend your valuable time on the important things. Teach principles and doctrines. Give love. Be examples. Make your teaching appealing and as simple as possible.
While what we as leaders are doing with young women now is crucial to saving this world, what we are doing with our eternal callings is of even greater importance. We also carry a mantle for our callings as wives, mothers, and homemakers. We need to call upon the Lord for His Spirit to be with us in these eternal roles. Our homes may be our last and only place of refuge, as our prophets are prophesying. I am pleading with you to be exemplary leaders but not to neglect your home responsibilities.
How significant are our roles as parents! How crucial are our roles as leaders! How imperative that we properly train the future righteous women of God! I know this work we are engaged in is His work, and I am grateful for the wonderful privilege we all have to be His instruments.

While discussing how to approach our friends, my wife and I decided that our friends would more likely agree to the lessons if other non-Mormon couples were in attendance. They would be more relaxed in a group, less the center of attention. Furthermore, we had been impressed with Wilford Woodruff’s success in teaching people in large groups. Apparently, during those occasions, the Spirit was very intense, so strong that listeners sometimes received a testimony strong enough to motivate them to request baptism on the spot.
Having gone this far, we contacted one of the district leaders in our mission, Elder Bruce Chadwick, whom we knew, and told him our plans. He was enthusiastic and even offered to do the teaching, with the help of one of the zone leaders, Elder Dennis Stoddard.
A day or so later, Elder Chadwick and Elder Stoddard visited our home to discuss the matter further. We decided to serve dessert each time, to break the ice while everyone visited for fifteen or twenty minutes before the lessons started. In this way we would not interfere with the spiritual influence the elders wanted the investigators to carry home.
The teaching elder would periodically ask for our comments, a signal to us, if we felt inspired, to bear our testimony on the point just discussed. We would also help answer questions. The elders decided to postpone the baptismal and Word of Wisdom challenges until the end when we could meet with each investigator individually. This avoided any hint of pressure during the group meetings without hindering the conversion process: the baptismal and long-term activity rates turned out to be higher than usual.
Before each lesson, the elders were supposed to come early, to kneel with us as we asked for the help of the Spirit. Also, I was to ask a member to open with prayer and another to close the lessons with prayer.
Finally we were ready to arrange the meetings with our friends. We hoped we could get two groups of four or five investigators each if we invited all forty on our list. One group would meet on Friday evenings and the other on Saturday evenings.
When we first used this approach, we were very surprised. About two-thirds of our friends accepted. After merely asking just sixteen couples on the original list, we had two groups of six investigators each. So together with three or four spouses who were members, the missionaries, and ourselves, each group consisted of about thirteen or fourteen people.
As we hoped, the Spirit of those meetings was very strong. Overwhelmed by the experience, most of the nonmembers were visibly moved.
Usually, one of the elders led the first half of a discussion and the other the second half, encouraging questions throughout. Sometimes the investigators were asked if it might be possible to wait until next week for an answer to a question. They always agreed, and we always returned to the question as promised. Answers to most questions, however, were generally immediate, competent, and inspired. The investigators almost always were satisfied.
We were careful and patient in answering questions, usually from the Bible, but sometimes from latter-day scriptures. The Spirit converts, but people also need to be convinced intellectually that the Church is true. This they can do by hearing the lessons, by reading the Book of Mormon and other Church literature, and by having their questions answered. As they do this with sincere intent, they usually are much more able to distinguish between purely emotional reaction and the influence of the spirit. Consequently, we never tired of answering their questions and always tried to do so competently, clearly, and under the influence of the Spirit. Each question was answered, but not always immediately. Some questions raised issues the investigators were not ready to discuss yet, and others would have led the discussion away from the main point being stressed. In such instances, we gave the reason why we were postponing the answer and tried to give the investigator an idea when it would be answered.
When all of the lessons were completed, we thanked everyone for participating and told them we would be visiting them at their homes. Within two or three days, with the elders, we visited each couple, answered any remaining questions, and then simply invited them to join the Church. To our surprise, in the first group about two-thirds of the investigators accepted the invitation.

I had been tidying my house, but I couldn’t even vacuum the floors and dust my furniture, because I had so much clutter laying around. God’s house is a house of order (D&C 132:8), and I needed to make mine that way too. A wonderful thing happened to me in the process of tidying my house – I found some “hidden” treasures. Most of us are familiar with the story in the New Testament about looking for a lost coin (Luke 15:8-10). Today, I was looking for my original birth certificate that I needed for applying for a free bus pass.
In the process of looking I found lots of other surprises, but unfortunately, I couldn’t find my birth certificate. I knew that I had originally put it into the top drawer of my filing cabinet in a light brown money belt; but I couldn’t find it anywhere. Then I looked through all the other file cabinet drawers, to no avail. The other drawers were filled with old bank statements, car repair bills, pay-cheques, house and car insurance documents, etc., but there was no birth certificate to be found anywhere.
Finally, after spending an hour searching, I prayed for help from Heavenly Father to find the lost document. I felt (through the Holy Ghost) that my birth certificate was indeed in the top drawer of my filing cabinet. So, I went back to the drawer and looked through all the piles of papers again. Imagine my surprise when I got down to the very bottom of the drawer and found my birth certificate in a blue pouch. That was when I remembered that I had changed where I stored my birth certificate about two years ago. I’m so glad that the Holy Ghost remembered where my birth certificate was.
But the story doesn’t end there. While delving into the bottom of my filing cabinet drawers, I also found 3 crisp, new, £20 notes, which were sitting among a pile of credit card receipts. Once I found the money, I remembered that I had put them there for safekeeping about a year ago. It was a lovely surprise to find them today. Yesterday I also found some money unexpectedly, as I was cleaning out my handbag. I found a small wallet that I hadn’t used for about two years and when I opened it, I found two £10 notes inside!
I also looked in my filing cabinet for my cheque book, because I wanted to attend tithing settlement on Sunday. I needed to write out a cheque for some extra tithing that I owed. I couldn’t remember the last time that I wrote a cheque for anything, so I had no idea where my cheque book was. When I eventually found it, I looked at the cheque stubs and saw that the last cheque that I had written was four years ago. It’s no wonder that the banks want to “phase” cheques out, because very few people use them anymore. The only thing that I used a cheque for in the past was to pay my tithing every month. Now that I pay my tithing using a standing order from my bank, I have no need to use cheques anymore. Once I had found my cheque book, I wrote out a cheque for the outstanding tithing that I owed this year and put it into my handbag.
On the way home from submitting my bus pass application, I thought to myself: “I should stop and say hello to Jan and Steve.” I hadn’t seen these friends for about two years because they had moved to a new house. Once I found the house, I knocked on the door and Jan opened it. She was in the middle of vacuuming and cleaning when I arrived unannounced and she was standing beside an ottoman in the kitchen. As we talked she said, “We have been in a big mess for a year, but we are finally getting things the way we want them now. I’m getting rid of this ottoman, would you like it?”
"Yes please," I replied.
What Jan didn’t know, was that I had been looking for an ottoman like this for about six months. I had even gone into three charity shops that day, looking for such an item, but I couldn’t find one. But the Holy Ghost knew exactly where a used ottoman was, and he prompted me to go to Jan’s new house, because that was the day that she was throwing one away.
Isn’t Heavenly Father kind to us? On the day that I wrote out a cheque for extra tithing, I found money and was given furniture equal to the exact amount that I had written out my tithing cheque for. I had read about these types of stories in the Ensign before, but it had never happened to me, until that day.

I had an experience that I would like to share with you. I was trying to make a decision that was very important, and it concerned more than just myself. I’d had many years of practice in going to the Lord with decisions. I fasted. I attended temple sessions. I prayed a great deal. I tried to be spiritually in tune. Then I made the decision and took it to the Lord for confirmation. In spite of all my spiritual preparations, I still felt unsettled with the final decision. Then I read Doctrine and Covenants 9:7, which says, “Behold, you have not understood; you have supposed that I would give it unto you, when you took no thought save it was to ask me.”

It became very clear to me that to be completely settled about my decision, I needed more than spiritual preparation. I needed to do some practical preparation.

I got up from my knees and went to work. I met with people. I gathered data. I analyzed it. I thought about it. I counseled with Church leaders. I counseled with family. I considered it thoughtfully and very prayerfully. I wrote things down. Using a pencil and paper is always useful to me in analyzing information. It clarifies my thinking. So I wrote lists of pros and cons and considered these very prayerfully—crossing things off, narrowing things down.

I didn’t hurry. I took time to let things settle in my mind. Then in due time I knew what I should do. Finally, the Lord blessed me with peace about the matter, just as promised in Doctrine and Covenants 6:23: “Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?” I learned that inspiration comes during this process. Can these same steps apply to you in major decisions you make? Surely it can.