Gospel Story Finder

There was a very popular book series I started reading. At first I liked it, but then it started getting scary and yucky. I felt uncomfortable. I did not feel the Holy Ghost. As I started the second book, it was the same and getting worse.
I talked with my mom about Article of Faith 13. These books weren’t like the article of faith, and I want to live like it says. Finally I stopped reading the books. I felt a lot better right away. I want to feel like that all the time, and I know I can if I use Article of Faith 13 as my guide.
Brooke B., age 10, Utah, USA

When we learn to depend on our abilities and the blessings that God has given us, we can achieve great goals and overcome any obstacles that stand in our way. I have experienced this in my life.
When I was young, I realized I had a passion for sales. I began my career in a hardware store, serving customers and providing exceptional service. Over time, I rose to become a supervisor and purchasing manager. For 12 years, I learned everything necessary to be successful in that field. I express gratitude to my Heavenly Father for granting me that chance and for giving me the desire and opportunities to be completely independent.
Today, thanks to hard work and God’s help, I have my own company. Being self-sufficient not only allows me to take care of myself and my family, but I also can serve and care for others in more meaningful ways. These experiences have shown me that it is not necessary to have extraordinary talents or a college degree to achieve success. All you need is to have a proper perspective and a dream to realize your potential.
Today I feel grateful for the path I have traveled and for the success I have achieved. But I also feel a responsibility to help others find their own path to success. We all have the potential to achieve great things if we dare to dream and work hard to achieve it. I encourage you to never limit yourself and to trust in the power of Jesus Christ to overcome any obstacle and achieve success in your life.

When I was going to be baptized and confirmed a member of the Church, I felt very troubled about whether I was choosing the right path. Our branch missionaries in Gyumri, Armenia, realized I had some doubts about the Book of Mormon and joining the Church, so they invited me to go with them while they taught some missionary lessons.
When we got to the first home, Elder Perrin asked Anichka if she had read the assigned chapters. “No,” she said, “I forgot.” So we read 2 Nephi 29–33 together. While reading chapter 29, we studied the prophecies about the Book of Mormon and the Gentiles rejecting it in the latter days by saying, “A Bible! A Bible! We have got a Bible, and there cannot be any more Bible” (v. 3). That chapter left an impression on me throughout the lesson.
Next we went to another home. When we were reading from the Book of Mormon there, the father of the woman we were teaching asked, “What is that book?”
I explained that it was the Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ. He became angry and said, “We already have the Bible, and there can’t be another Bible.”
I remembered the chapter we had read just 10 minutes earlier with Anichka.
Elder Perrin spoke up: “You have a Bible, and it is from God’s ancient covenant people.” He continued, “God created all people, and He reveals His words to His children, which means all people on this earth. Even though you have a Bible, don’t you suppose that God would give His word to others?” He continued this way, explaining the origin of the Book of Mormon.
I was amazed at what had just happened. It seemed there could be no greater testimony for resolving my concerns about the Book of Mormon than seeing its prophecies fulfilled.
Now with sincerity of heart I can say that the Book of Mormon is the truest book. I know that God loves us all and He won’t forget us. Again and again I have realized how exceptional a possession the Book of Mormon is.

President Joseph F. Smith, who took part in the westward trek and in the first 70 years of hardship in this valley, shared this precious overview of the Lord’s protective hand over His Latter-day Saints:
“Our good friends from the east used to come out here in the early days and upbraid us. They said, ‘Why, it is the fulfillment of the curse of God upon you. You have been driven away from the rich lands of Illinois and Missouri, into a desert, into a salt land.’ I said, ‘Yes, we have salt enough here to save the world, thank God, and we may find use for it by and by.’” There was a time when there wasn’t feed for livestock and the beef was so lean there wasn’t enough fat to even make decent soap. “Just then the Lord sent a handful of alfalfa seed into the valley, and Christopher Layton planted it, watered it, and it matured; and from that little beginning, Utah can now produce a richer crop of hay than Illinois or Missouri can do.”

It is related of Spinola and Richardet, the ambassadors sent by the king of Spain to negotiate a treaty at the Hague in Holland in 1608, that one day they saw about eight or ten persons land from a little boat and, sitting down upon the grass, proceed to eat a meal of bread, cheese, and drink.
“Who are those travelers?” asked the ambassadors of a peasant.
“These are our worshipped masters, the deputies from the state,” was his reply.
Spinola at once whispered, “These are not men to be conquered.” (From Happy Homes and the Hearts That Make Them by Samuel Smiles.)

Can a clown fish from the Indian Ocean find happiness with an anemone from the Gulf of California? That is the question we asked ourselves as we watched our recently acquired Amphiprion bicinctus wriggle out of the plastic bag it had resided in for the past hour and into our aquarium. The salesman at the tropical fish store had assured us that the two of them would get along famously, but then that’s what he had also told us when we introduced a moray eel to our now seven-armed octopus!
The meeting in this instance was considerably less dramatic. After hovering around in an upper corner of the tank for a few minutes and being sized up by the other fish, the banded clown made her maiden voyage across the ten-foot expanse of our upstairs show tank. Scattered across this stretch of sand and coral are twelve different anemones that we have collected from the Gulf of California just south of Puerto Penasco, Mexico. We wondered which one the clown would choose for her own. Would it be one of the smaller reddish ones? Or would it be the large brown and purple one in the center of the tank? Or maybe several of them?
Throughout that first day we didn’t notice too much activity on the part of the clown fish directed toward any of the anemones. But then on the second day, we saw that she had taken up a semipermanent residence close by the large anemone near the center of the tank. And soon she was vigorously wriggling among the many tentacles of her newly claimed possession.
This close association between clown fish and anemones has been a topic of some controversy among observers of the symbiotic (living together) relationship for several years. It has usually been agreed that nestled among the tentacles of the anemone the clown is protected from its enemies. But what does the anemone reap from the association?
At various times it has been suggested that the clowns purposely provided anemones with food or even lured other fish toward the anemones’ grasping tentacles with their nematocysts (poisonous stingers). This view has been challenged, however, by the observation that although clown fish have been observed to bring large chunks of food to an anemone partner, they do not let the anemone eat it. Instead, they often tear at it as soon as the anemone has grasped it, feeding themselves with small portions they break away from the large chunk. In the end, the anemone is left with nothing.
Which view is true? We decided to find out for ourselves—and find out we did.
Our first step was to provide a suitable food source. A quick trip to a nearby pond supplied us with plenty of freshwater minnows. We introduced three of them to the tank. Immediately the water churned with activity as the community of marine fish began to subdivide the minnows for their lunch. But then, as if from out of nowhere, the banded clown darted into the melee and returned just as rapidly with one of the minnows intact in her mouth. The clown fish’s rapid wriggling reminded us all of the joyous wagging of a puppy’s tail as the puppy returns to its master with a stick it has retrieved.
Upon reaching the large brown and purple anemone, the clown fish actually shoved the minnow down into its outstretched tentacles. Immediately they responded to the stimulus and began to close about the prey. Assured that the minnow was securely trapped, the clown turned back to the fracas at the end of the tank. Once again she somehow managed to secure another minnow, and once again she wigwagged her way back to the blob of bloated protoplasm (organized living matter) that comprised the plump anemone. Plumper still with her second delivery, the anemone was soon to be truly gorged when the clown returned a third time with the last of the minnows.
On the following day, in the manner of true scientists, we proceeded to see if our observations were repeatable. And indeed they were. Not only did the clown fish again succeed in securing three minnows for the anemone, but she retrieved them when a sneaky Heniochus (pennant butterfly fish) stole them out of the anemone’s grip. And in no instance did the clown fish attempt to reclaim any of the minnows as her own.
It thus appears that the answer to our initial query about the banded clown and the displaced anemone is affirmative. An A. bicinctus can indeed find happiness with an anemone from the Gulf of California, and the association is most certainly mutually beneficial. What else can you say about a friend who brings you a three-course meal each day?

One evening I argued with my mom and felt pretty bad. So I decided I would pray. Although I was in a bad mood and didn’t want to be “spiritual,” I knew praying would help me feel happier and less argumentative. After my mom left the room, I started my prayer. “Dear Heavenly Father, I’ve come to Thee tonight because …” No. I opened my eyes and unfolded my arms; that sounded awkward. I tried again. “Heavenly Father, I need …” That also sounded strange. I felt Satan urging me to give up my prayer of asking Heavenly Father for help.
Suddenly I had a prompting to say thank you! So I did, and thoughts started spilling from my mind of all the many things I could thank my Father in Heaven for. When I was done thanking Him, I discussed the problem at hand.
Afterward I felt a wonderful peace inside me, the warm spiritual feeling that I know our Heavenly Father and my parents love me and that I am a child of God. I was able to apologize to my mother and accept her apology.

I live on a small cattle ranch in Missouri, USA. I have the responsibility of feeding hay to the cows during the winter and early spring, and moving them on to spring pastures. One day we had our herd bulls in a pen, and we needed to move some cows through the pen to another pasture. Usually the bulls are very gentle, so I didn’t feel concerned. But this time the bulls started to get anxious with the other cows nearby. Two of our biggest bulls, Oscar and Billy, who weigh about 2,000 pounds (907 kg) each, started head butting each other and pushing each other around. It was a bullfight!
Some younger bulls were on the outside of the pen with the cows, and they came up and wanted in on the battle! I was standing nearby at a closed gate when I felt a sudden prompting to move out of the way. Just then Oscar and Billy busted through the gate and charged out into the field, right where I had been standing a few moments earlier! I knew that the Holy Ghost had prompted me to get out of the way and kept me safe from being trampled or even killed.
I know that if we try to choose the right every day, we can have the Holy Ghost as our guide. He can help keep us safe from harm’s way!

Crouched and shivering behind the hedge, I watched my little brother Nickie do his best rendition of an Indian scout sneaking across Brother Henry’s front lawn. First he edged his way around the power pole that held the street light, and then he skittered to the locust tree. He paused for a moment before dashing for the corner of the house where he waited a long time, listening, I suppose, for crunching leaves or whatever ten-year-old Indian scouts listen for.
Since there aren’t many crunching leaves in December, and there was apparently no danger, Nickie made his final sprint to the door. He laid his gift on the step, rang the bell, and dashed back to the hedge.
“Did they see me?” he gasped.
“Not unless they can see through the door,” I whispered. “They haven’t even opened it yet.”
We crouched behind the hedge in the yard next to the Henry’s and waited. It was cold, but not bad. Maybe it would snow. I hoped so. What snow we’d had so far had melted a couple of weeks earlier and now, three days before Christmas, the trees and lawns were bare, bleak, and un-Christmaslike. To me, Christmas just wasn’t Christmas without snow.
I was puzzled as I watched Nickie, sitting beside me on the cold, yellow grass. All of a sudden he seemed so excited about our Christmas project. His attitude had practically done an “about face” in the last hour.
Playing Santa to the Henrys was Dad’s idea. At home evening two weeks earlier he asked if the family wanted to do a Christmas project again this year. We did our first project about six years ago; I was Nickie’s age. We took some toys to the Sub-for-Santa program, and I remember that I wasn’t very excited about giving away my toys, except for a few old broken ones that I thought I could part with. Then at school I heard a man talk about how much some gifts had meant to his family. He cried, and I barely managed not to. I went right home and wrapped up my biggest Tonka truck. It was only two years old and still in great shape.
Every year since, our family has contributed to Sub-for-Santa. When Dad asked about this year’s project, I thought that he intended to do the same. “There’s a family in our neighborhood who could use some help,” he said. I was surprised; I never thought that there were people in our own neighborhood who would not have a good Christmas.
“Who?” the family asked, almost in unison.
“Well, you know the Arnold Henry family, don’t you?” Dad started.
I knew the Henrys only slightly. They had moved into the ward in September or October. There were three or four kids, all young. The oldest boy was about eight or nine. That’s all I knew about them, but some of my little brothers and sisters were acquainted with the Henry children.
“Brother Henry had a job at the steel plant, but they had a cutback,” Dad continued. “The bishop mentioned last Sunday that Brother Henry hasn’t yet found work.” Dad paused long enough for us to get his message, and unanimously we adopted the Henry family as our Christmas project.
The grass was damp, but Nickie and I continued to peer through the hedge at the house. “Why don’t they come to the door?” Nickie whispered impatiently.
“Did you hear the bell ring?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” he said.
“The first rule of successfully rousing people,” I sermonized, “is to listen for the ring. You were in too much of a hurry.”
“I’ll do it again,” Nickie said.
I guessed that he wasn’t sorry to have to repeat his dramatic approach. I watched him go again. This time he crawled to the locust tree like an infantryman under fire. Too much TV, I figured, had programmed him against simply walking up to the door, ringing the bell, and then running. I thought how silly he would look to the Henrys if they opened their door and saw this ten-year-old boy elbowing his way across their lawn. And I thought again about the change I’d seen in Nickie in the last hour.
From the time that we had decided as a family to assist the Henrys, the bulk of the work had fallen on Mom. She’s a good organizer—or maybe prodder is a better word. Every day she’d ask, “Who has an idea for the Henry’s three-year-old girl?” or “What should we do about a tree? Will they have one or shall we take one?” She kept us interested and excited.
On the first day my littlest brother, Tommy, age four, ran to his room and came back with a toy car he wanted to give. I suggested that we take a small decorated tree, whether or not they already had one. Since I had an after-school job and was earning a little money, I offered to buy it as my contribution. My two sisters, Ann, 13, and Tricia, 7, started working together to make presents.
Everyone got involved except Nickie. I don’t know why, unless ten is a selfish age or something, but he just wasn’t very interested. When Mom pressed him for a commitment, he said he’d put in a “quarter or something” on a present. I could tell that she was disappointed because he wasn’t catching the spirit of the project. But I remembered how I felt at his age on our first Sub-for-Santa, and I couldn’t be too hard on him.
It wasn’t that Nickie wasn’t a good kid. Once when he was about three, a neighborhood friend complained to Nickie that he was hungry. Nickie went to the refrigerator, stuck his hand into a bottle of home-canned fruit, and carried a dripping peach half to his buddy. He can be generous all right. So Mom didn’t push him; I think she knows that sometimes good deeds just can’t be forced.
Finally, the big night arrived. The excitement mounted as we gathered the things together to take to the Henrys. Even Nickie seemed a little more interested, but I don’t think he felt as much a part of it because he hadn’t really contributed.
The Henrys live only four blocks away; and we thought it would be fun to walk. But because we had quite a few things to carry, including a decorated tree, we loaded the station wagon instead. As the holder of the family’s newest driver’s license—only—six months old—I took my now-unquestioned place behind the wheel and drove past the Henry’s house. Only the porch light was lit. “Great,” said Dad, who was facing backwards in the third seat, holding the tree out the rear window. “They’re not home. We can take our time.”
I made a U-turn and drove past the house from the other direction. Still no sign of life, so I coasted to the curb two houses away, and we unloaded. We must have looked comical strolling down the sidewalk like a Christmas parade in the dark. We were quiet, so as not to draw attention from the neighbors, and we kept an eye out for cars, hoping the Henrys wouldn’t return too soon.
After everything was positioned on the front step, right under the porch light, we went to the neighbor’s yard to watch through the hedge, but we weren’t very well hidden. It was cold enough that it wasn’t fun staring at the porch, and we were just about to leave when a car turned in the Henry’s driveway.
“Come on,” Mom said. “They’ll see us when they get out of the car.” We tried to look casual as we strolled down the walk to the car. But Nickie, his spying instincts aroused, insisted on staying.
“Dad, can I stay?” he pleaded. “I won’t let them see me. I just want to watch while they find all that stuff. Then I’ll run home. Okay?” Dad consented, so Nickie crawled back to the hedge while the rest of us got in the car and drove home.
We’d been home about ten minutes and were sitting around the Christmas tree talking about our adventure when the front door flew open. In ran Nickie, all out of breath. It was obvious that he was excited about something. Without saying a word he went straight to the tree and pulled out a square box wrapped in shiny red paper.
“What’s up, son?” Dad asked.
“I want to take this present to the Henrys, Dad. I … didn’t give very much,” he said.
I couldn’t believe it! Everyone knew what was in that package. Nickie’s Little League baseball mitt, which he had inherited from me and which had already snared more than its share of fly balls, had seen its day. Since the end of last season Nickie had been talking about getting a new one. “And if I happen to get it at Christmas,” he had hinted with ten-year-old subtlety, “I’ll have plenty of time to break it in before spring.”
When Dad and I handed Nickie the wrapped mitt for him to put under the tree until Christmas morning, we could tell from the grin on his face that he knew what it was. And now he was going to give it to a family he hardly knew! Up until ten minutes ago he was only willing to give them a quarter! It didn’t make sense.
“They’ve got a nine-year-old boy, Dad,” Nickie said quietly. Dad swallowed and looked at Mom. She had a strange expression on her face. I wanted to say, “Hey, man, you can’t give away your new mitt!” but Mom just said, “Are you sure that’s what you want to do, Nickie?”
“Yea, Mom, I’m sure,” he replied as he ran out the door.
No one said anything for a minute, and then Dad asked if I would go with Nickie. It was a little late for him to be out alone, and I knew that Dad wanted me to find out what was going on—if I could. By the time I grabbed a coat and ran outside, Nickie was already a block away. I couldn’t catch him, and by the time I reached the hedge, he was doing that Indian scout thing across the lawn.
Nickie was now back with me behind the hedge after his second dash to the door. This time, results. Brother Henry opened the door, saw the red package, and shouted, “There’s more!”
Suddenly the doorway was filled with little faces, all wearing expressions of disbelief at finding yet another gift on the doorstep. We watched them pick up the package, shake it, and pass it around. They even came down the steps and looked around the yard and down the street. Then they went in and turned off the porch light, and we started home.
Nickie wasn’t running this time; he was quiet. After walking half a block I asked him what had changed his mind.
“Well, after you left for home,” he began, “I sneaked up to the hedge and watched while the Henrys started into their house. They stopped dead when they saw the stuff on their step. Then the kids ran up the steps. They shook every present, walked around the tree, and looked up and down the street. Finally, they gathered up everything and went inside.”
Nickie stopped talking, and we walked a while without saying anything. It was getting colder.
“Then what?” I finally asked. What I really wanted to say was, “What changed you? What made you give away your baseball mitt that you’ve wanted for so long?” but I refrained.
“They’d all gone in except the oldest boy and his dad,” Nickie continued. “They were starting to bring in the tree when I heard the boy say, ‘Dad, do you think the Lord blessed us with these things?’ His dad said, ‘I’m sure he did, son, but what do you mean?’ Then the boy—his name’s David—said the funniest thing. He said, ‘Well, it’s just that these things were brought to our house while we were taking Christmas to some poor people.’”
My feet stopped. I looked at Nickie.
“They were what?” I gasped. “Taking Christmas presents to other people? Why … why, they don’t even have a job! I mean, they’re supposed to be the poor people!”
“That’s what he said,” Nickie went on. “Then his dad said that even though they didn’t have much money right now, they wanted to share what they had, and that these presents must have come from people who felt that same way.”
“Right then I decided,” Nickie continued,” and I’m glad I did. I’ll bet David Henry never had a you-know-what before.”
He grinned at me, and I knew the secret was out. It was all right to talk about it.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s run.”
I could have beat him home, but instead I kept an even pace. As we turned in our driveway and leaped up the front steps together, I noticed that it was just beginning to snow.

The experience of the converting power of the Book of Mormon did not end after my mission. In 2016, I was called to teach institute classes for adults. That year, we were studying the Book of Mormon. One day, as we studied King Benjamin’s powerful and inspired discourse in the book of Mosiah, two brothers in my class, carrying a secret burden of deep family problems, were moved to tears. Without saying a word, they left the classroom, and instinctively, I followed them. In the church courtyard, I found them talking, crying, and supporting each other. Respecting their privacy, I returned to the classroom, but concern tinged with hope accompanied me. At the end of the lesson, the two brothers returned, but this time, their presence was marked by peace. One of them spoke, sharing the miracle that had just occurred. He explained that thanks to the teachings of the Book of Mormon and the words of King Benjamin, they had found the strength to confront their family difficulties. In that testifying moment, I was reminded of Alma’s words, “The preaching of the word had a great tendency to lead the people to do that which was just—yea, it had had more powerful effect upon the minds of the people than the sword, or anything else, which had happened unto them.” (Alma 31:5).
That day, those brothers experienced the testimony of more than one in its fulness through the power of divine words, confirming the universal truth that the word of God can breathe life into the most wounded hearts.

May I share with you an experience that took place on the island of Okinawa in the Servicemen’s District? As the local Okinawan members were excitedly preparing to go to Tokyo, which is nearly 900 miles away, for the area general conference, the young people of the Servicemen’s Branch found out that an active young Okinawan family was not planning to go with the rest of the branch. When approached and asked why he was not going to conference, this faithful brother hesitantly replied that he just could not afford to take his wife and children at this time; it was out of the question.
The young people of the Servicemen’s Branch immediately met and planned a cookie sale project to raise funds necessary to send this family to conference. The young people baked cookies in their parents’ homes; later when they were busily engaged in selling these cookies, they were pleasantly surprised when they approached the servicemen to purchase their cookies, explaining the purpose of their project. Without hesitation the servicemen all bought cookies and donated money in excess of the purchase price, so that the young people could reach their goal. The happy result was that this young Okinawan family was able to go to Tokyo to conference with the rest of their branch, because of the help they received.
The young people of the Servicemen’s Branch all learned a great lesson in giving and loving; they learned through experience that persons who really care for others and who give some of their time, talents, and belongings for the good of others are the ones who really receive the fullest blessings of life.

My friend gave me an invitation to her party! I was so excited—until I noticed it was on Sunday. My mom called her mom and explained that we made a decision many years ago that Sundays are a day of worship and a day to spend time with our family, and that I wouldn’t be able to go to the party. Then my friend’s mom changed the day of the party to a Saturday, just so I could come! I love my friends!
Emma F., age 8, Ohio, USA

My mom came from a very religious family. They went to church together. They did a lot of fun things together. I loved to hear her talk about when she was a child. I would pretend that I had been a child then too. It must have hurt her a lot to live with a man who got drunk.
She was ashamed of his drinking. She told me over and over not to tell anyone. “It’s a secret,” she’d say.
I loved her. I kept her secret. But it was lonely. I thought I was the only young person in the Church who had this kind of home.
What a relief it would have been for me to share the burden, to know that I was not alone.

Secrets
Don’t pry into your friend’s family life, but if she wants to talk, let her share her pain without interruptions or advice.
Comments such as “That must hurt a lot” or “That must have been very embarrassing” will tell her you’re really listening.
You’re not there to judge her or her dad. You’re not there to tell her how to act or feel. You’re not there to solve her problem. You’re there to listen and to care.

Secrets
It’s hard to talk about alcoholism, but it’s even harder to bear your burden all alone.
The Church has counselors who will talk with you. Your bishop can help you reach them. They will keep everything you tell them confidential.
Alcoholics Anonymous has a group for young people who live with alcoholic adults.
Or you may want to talk to a trusted friend—perhaps your bishop or a teacher.

At sacrament meeting I watched other families sit together. I watched them smile at each other. I wanted my dad to be there. I wanted our family to sit together.
But he never came to church. He said they didn’t like him because he drank beer. My ward had parties for fathers and their children. I helped plan these parties. I never got to go to them.
On Father’s Day our ward gave rosebuds to all the fathers. I helped pick every rosebud in our garden. My dad didn’t come to the meeting.
I hated it when they talked about temple marriage at church. I hated hearing my family was different. I knew as long as my father drank we could not go to the temple. I loved my mother. I loved my dad. I wanted to be with them forever. It’s very difficult to sit in class when they are teaching about the temple.
I just kept going to church. I decided I would not drink. I decided I would be married in the temple.
I’m an adult now, and I definitely don’t drink. I have been married in the temple, and I’m happy that my children are sealed to me.
Left Out
Even Church meetings and activities can be painful for your friend.
If you see her sitting alone, ask her to sit with your family.
Ask her to join you and your dad at the daddy-daughter dance or find a “substitute dad” for her.
Lessons on temple marriage can be very sad for someone who sees no hope of ever being sealed to her parents. Be sensitive to this.
If the fathers at church get a boutonniere, offer her one to take home to her dad.

Left Out
Sitting alone in church is no fun.
Lessons on temple marriage hurt.
Father-daughter activities are painful.
But remember that we are all brothers and sisters, and there are many kind and loving people in your ward who would like to be your friend. Reach out to them and let them reach out to you.
Also, you can resolve that you will marry in the temple and be active.
In the meanwhile, invite your father to take part. Assure him that perfection is not a prerequisite for Church activity.

I was afraid a lot.
I was afraid my dad would kill himself while driving drunk. I was afraid he’d kill someone else when he was driving drunk.
Late at night I would lie in my bed with all the lights out. I would wait and wait to hear his car pull in. I’d pray over and over, “Please help him get home safely. Please don’t let him hit anyone.”
In the morning I’d look at how the car was parked in the driveway. Sometimes it would be barely an inch from the house. Sometimes it would be over into the neighbor’s flowers.
I was afraid he’d embarrass me. He did. He’d wake up from sleeping off a drunk and not really be sober. He’d stumble out of the bedroom. He’d stink of beer. He’d say dumb things. I hated it.
My real friends still liked me. Still, it was embarrassing.
I was afraid my parents would get a divorce. Many times they would have fights when my dad drank. He had a black leather suitcase in his closet. He’d get it out and start packing his clothes. If it were daytime I’d run out of the house. One day I took my dad’s white pocketknife with me. I wanted to have something of his if he left.
Sometimes I was afraid my parents would not get a divorce. I was afraid they would keep living together and I would never have a home that was nice. I thought my mother and I could go live with my grandparents. It sounded so safe.
Fear
Your friend may worry that her dad will get into an accident while driving drunk.
She may be afraid her parents will divorce. Or she may be equally afraid this painful way of living will go on forever.
She fears that her dad may embarrass her with inappropriate behavior.
She’s afraid no one will like her because of her father’s actions.
Of these fears only the last one is within your control. Make very sure your friend knows that you love and respect her. Your friendship can help reduce the corrosive effects of all the other fears.
Fear
Your life is full of fears—fear of a drunken accident, fear of divorce, fear of humiliation—the list seems endless.
I wish I could give you an easy formula for banishing fear, but I can’t. For one thing, many of your fears are well grounded.
I can only give you two bits of advice. First, when you are afraid, pray. Our Father in Heaven knows your fears and can help you master them.
Second, let some trusted adult counselor help you distinguish between real dangers and imaginary ones. With so many real things to fear, there is no room for phantoms.
The movies and television show handsome men and beautiful women drinking. These people do clever and funny things.
My dad didn’t do clever things. He did disgusting things. He would wet the bed. I would have to strip off the sheets and blankets. Then it was my job to turn over that big, blue, wet mattress. I would grab hold for all I was worth. I pulled. I pushed. It would spring back at me. The wet smelly thing would be in my face.
He threw up. He threw up and then threw up some more. My bedroom was next to the bathroom. I would bury my head in my pillow. I didn’t like that sickening smell.
Sometimes my dad would walk around without clothes on when he was drunk.
He never hit me when he was drunk. But lots of people do get mean when they drink. They hit their children and abuse their families.
Now I’m an adult I can forgive him. I know now that alcoholism requires treatment. He did the best he could do without help. But I didn’t forgive him while we were living in the same house.
Shame and Anger
Drunk people do disgusting things. They may even abuse their children.
Your friend will be both shamed and angered by these actions. And she may feel guilty about her anger. Let her know that she has a right to be angry.
Just help her channel that anger so it doesn’t cause her serious trouble.
Shame and Anger
If you sometimes feel angry at your dad and embarrassed to be his child, don’t feel guilty about it. It’s okay to feel angry. Anyone in your circumstances would feel that way.
And if you haven’t been able to forgive him, keep trying, but don’t feel guilty about that either.
Forgiving is not an easy virtue to master, and nobody’s holding a stopwatch on you.
It was Christmas Eve. I sat by our tree. I remember the sparkling icicles and the glowing red and white lights. I was sad my dad wasn’t home. He was drinking at some bar.
It’s not the way I wanted Christmas to be.
Drinking ruined birthdays. It ruined Thanksgiving. It ruined New Year’s and Easter and other days.
Holidays were often the saddest, loneliest, most painful times of the year. On those days the contrast was sharp and bitter between how life could and should be and how it really was.
Merry Christmas
Holidays are hard for your friend, so don’t forget her. Have her over to your house. If it would not offend her parents, you might invite her to spend the holiday with your family. And always remember her birthday.
Merry Christmas
Work with your mother to make holidays as happy as possible for your brothers and sisters. The real joy of every holiday comes from serving.
Also, if your friends want to brighten their own season by serving you, let them.
Most people do the best they can.
I believe my dad did his best. Maybe he could have done better if he had joined Alcoholics Anonymous. Perhaps a hospital for alcoholics might have helped. Maybe going to a counselor would have helped. But he didn’t get help.
Living with him was very difficult. Living with him was disgusting sometimes. Living with him was embarrassing sometimes. Living with him was sad many times.
Sometimes I was ashamed of him. Sometimes I was scared of him.
Other times I felt angry when our Mormon neighbors didn’t seem to like him. I knew he was a good person when he was sober. Why couldn’t other people see it?
One of my children asked me what I did for fun when I was a child. Initially I didn’t have an answer. Of course, I had some good times. But the strongest memories all involve alcohol.
Alcohol steals childhood. Instead of a parade of carefree days, there is premature responsibility. Instead of happiness, there is anger and fear and guilt. Instead of openness and trust there is secrecy. Often there is estrangement from the Church.
But I survived, and others can too, if we all help. I hope we will.
What Now?
Your friend lives in a different world—a world full of well-founded fears, a world where nothing is simple.
The same person she loves causes her great pain.
If you genuinely like her, show it, but please don’t take her on as a two-month project and then drop her. She has enough reasons to distrust people without that.
Respect her and respect the confidentiality of anything she tells you.
You can’t eliminate her pain. You can’t force a change in her home.
What you can do is care about her. You can understand, accept, help, support, encourage, and love her.
You can help her feel her Heavenly Father’s love.
What Now?
Your biggest job now is to take care of yourself. Remember that you are not alone. Our Father in Heaven knows and loves you perfectly. You have not shed a tear or prayed a prayer that he is not aware of. He wants things to be better for you.
He will give you inspiration and comfort.
He will send teachers and leaders and friends to help you. Accept their help and their love.
Don’t be too hard on yourself. You don’t have to be perfect by tomorrow.
You’ve got a lifetime ahead of you, and it will get easier.
You can make it. It’s not easy, but I know you can do it.
Don’t ever give up.

In the Church we sure do get more than we bargain for. (We heard Elder Jeffrey R. Holland tell us that.) I got way more this past conference with President Nelson. For a month my husband, Alex, and I had questions weighing that we had no answers to. We even asked our home teachers, but they too had no specific answers. You have no idea how I felt—and worse, when I saw Alex with tears in his eyes as well.
YES, big men cry too when they feel the Spirit. OUR QUESTIONS were answered.
The prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, spoke and told us that with God, nothing is impossible. He loves making the IMPOSSIBLE, POSSIBLE. President Nelson went on to talk about the Jaredites and so did Elder Holland. And guess what, it was as if they both knew that every day for a month, Alex and I had been going on and on—questioning about the Jaredites and the brother of Jared.
Right there we knew that Heavenly Father hears and answers prayers. These powerful men of God answered our QUESTIONS.
Sister Holland, thank you for your wise words when you said, “Those who see angels do because they want to.” Thank you for blessing my life with a portion of your spirit and inspiration. Someday I’ll thank you all personally for strengthening our testimonies in such a miraculous way. We still are all smiles and await your next visit for more questions to be answered.

Georgia Portlock in the Drennan’s ward gave out many books. “I love to talk about the Church, and it made me feel great to give the books to people,” she said. “At least they’ll have a copy of the Book of Mormon, and I don’t care if it sits on their shelf for a while. One day something will come up and they’ll read it and understand it. That’s what happened to me. My son gave me a Book of Mormon, and it sat on the shelf for ten years until I read it. When I did, it. was like I was burning up, and in three weeks I asked to be baptized.”

Let’s start a secret club,” said Goose.
“What a good idea!” exclaimed Squirrel. “Who will be in the secret club?”
“That will be the secret,” said Goose. “Anyone with feathers may be in our club.” Goose ruffled her snow-white feathers.
“Oh,” said Squirrel. He shook his long tail.
Goose smiled. “Anyone with feathers or a long tail may be in our club,” said Goose.
“Good,” said Squirrel. “Let’s tell my friend Turtle.” They went off to find Turtle.
“Hello, Turtle,” said Squirrel. “This is my friend Goose. We have a secret club.”
“Terrific!” said Turtle. “Who’s in it?”
“Goose and I,” Squirrel replied.
“And anyone with feathers or a long tail.”
“Oh,” said Turtle. She pulled her head into her shell.
Squirrel looked at Goose. They smiled.
“Anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell may be in our secret club,” said Squirrel.
“That’s fine,” said Turtle. “Let’s tell my friend Dog.” They all went off to find Dog.
“Hello, Dog,” said Turtle. “These are my friends Goose and Squirrel. We have a secret club.”
“Do you?” said Dog. “Who’s in it?”
“Goose and Squirrel and I,” said Turtle. “And anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell.”
“Oh,” barked Dog. He looked at his own short tail.
Turtle looked at Squirrel and Goose. They all smiled.
“Anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell, or anyone who barks may be in our secret club,” said Turtle.
“Good,” barked Dog. “Let’s tell my friend Frog.” They all went off to find Frog.
“Hello, Frog,” said Dog. “These are my friends Goose, Squirrel, and Turtle. We have a secret club.”
“Really?” asked Frog. “Who’s in it?”
“Goose, Squirrel, Turtle, and I,” Dog answered. “And anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell, or anyone who barks,” explained Dog.
“Oh,” said Frog. He stuck out his tongue and caught a fly.
Dog looked at Goose, Squirrel, and Turtle. They all smiled.
“Anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell, or anyone who barks or eats flies,” said Dog.
“Fine,” said Frog, swallowing the fly. “Let’s tell my friend Rabbit.” They all went off to find Rabbit.
“Hello, Rabbit,” said Frog. “These are my friends Goose, Squirrel, Turtle, and Dog. We have a secret club.”
“Really?” said Rabbit. “Who’s in it?”
“Goose, Squirrel, Turtle, Dog, and I,” said Frog. “And anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell, or anyone who barks or eats flies.”
“Oh,” said Rabbit. She twitched her long ears.
Frog looked at Goose, Squirrel, Turtle, and Dog. They all smiled.
“Anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell, or anyone who barks, eats flies, or has long ears,” said Frog.
“Super!” cried Rabbit. “Let’s tell my friend Pig.” They all went off to find Pig.
“Hello, Pig,” said Rabbit. “These are my friends Goose, Squirrel, Turtle, Dog, and Frog. We have a secret club.”
“You do?” asked Pig. “Who’s in it?”
“Goose, Squirrel, Turtle, Dog, Frog, and I,” said Rabbit. “And anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell, or anyone who barks, eats flies, or has long ears,” said Rabbit.
“Oh,” said Pig. He rolled over in the mud.
Rabbit looked at Goose, Squirrel, Turtle, Dog, and Frog. They all smiled.
“Anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell, or anyone who barks, eats flies, has long ears, or likes to roll in the mud,” said Rabbit. She was out of breath!
“Perfect,” said Pig. “Let’s tell my friend—”
“Wait a minute,” interrupted Goose.
“Remember, this is a secret club. Does your friend have feathers?”
“No,” said Pig, “she doesn’t have feathers.”
“Or a long tail?” asked Squirrel.
Pig shook his head.
“Does she have a shell?” asked Turtle.
“No,” Pig replied.
“Does she bark?” barked Dog.
“No, she doesn’t,” said Pig.
“Then she must eat flies,” said Frog.
“Never,” said Pig wearily.
“Well, does she have long ears?” asked Rabbit.
“No,” answered Pig, “her ears are very small. She doesn’t like to roll in the mud either.” Pig looked sadly at his friend Rabbit as he brushed some mud from his nose. “But she’s still my friend,” Pig said at last.
Rabbit twitched her long ears at her friend Frog.
Frog ate a fly that buzzed around his friend Dog.
Dog barked softly at his friend Turtle.
Turtle poked her head way out of her shell to look at her friend Squirrel.
Squirrel shook his bushy tail at his friend Goose.
Goose pulled a long white feather from her tail and gave it to Pig. They smiled at each other.
“Pig knows the secret of this club,” said Goose. “It’s not feathers, tails, shells, barking, flies, ears, or mud. The secret is friendship.”
And they all went off to find Pig’s friend.

Sister Roper nodded. “A few years ago, when my son Micah was your age, we had a similar lesson in Sharing Time. We were talking about how we can follow Heavenly Father. The counselor in the Primary presidency had a big banner in front of the Primary room. She told the children to raise their hands when they thought of a way to follow Heavenly Father. Then she would write their answers on the banner.
“The children began giving wonderful answers, like ‘Read your scriptures’ and ‘Say your prayers’ and ‘Be a good example.’ Micah raised his hand, and when the counselor called on him, he said, ‘Brush your teeth.’”
Sister Roper was laughing, too. “You know, I think we all wondered that. I thought that Micah hadn’t been paying attention. Poor Micah! Everyone was laughing, and I could tell that he was really embarrassed. He looked like he was ready to cry. I know that he was sorry that he had raised his hand.”
“Well,” Sister Roper went on, “there were still a few snickers, but almost everyone stopped. The great lesson that I learned that day came when the counselor said, ‘Very good, Micah. We do show Heavenly Father that we love Him when we take care of the bodies that He has blessed us with. I’m glad you thought of that.’
“No one was laughing while she wrote ‘Brush your teeth’ on the banner. I looked at Micah, and he was happily beaming. I was glad the counselor had helped both him and the rest of us see that his answer really was correct.”

When President Wilford Woodruff was a child, he lived in Connecticut and worked in his family’s flourmill and sawmill. Both his father and grandfather worked at the mills and encouraged him to put in a full day’s work. Some days Wilford worked for 18 hours!
Father: Are you ready for another day, Son? Nothing will make you feel more satisfied than working with your hands.
When his work was done Wilford liked to relax in the peace and quiet of nature. Sometimes he and his brother Azmon would go fishing. They were known as the best fishermen in the area.
One day after work Wilford discovered an island in the middle of his fishing stream. The island was covered with wildflowers. Wilford would lie on his back among the wildflowers and gaze up at the clouds.
Wilford: I certainly love this place. It’s good to get away from the noise of life and be alone for a few minutes.
During these quiet moments Wilford often thought about Heavenly Father. He would pray earnestly to better understand the scriptures he read each day.
Wilford: There are so many different churches and religions. I just want to know God’s will.
As he grew older Wilford continued doing the things he loved as a child—fishing and praying. While traveling across the plains with Brigham Young, Wilford fished at every possible spot.
Brigham: You sure love to fish, don’t you, Brother Wilford?
Wilford: It gives me time to meditate. Sometimes it gives me dinner too!
These prayers helped Wilford become a very faithful man and a Church leader. Other people noticed his good example and gave him the nickname “Wilford the Faithful.”

My parents were wonderful examples of love and nurturing. They loved the gospel and lived the gospel, and were in my mind perfect examples of Christlike people. They loved their neighbors and took care of them. We had a small farm with lots of chickens, a cow, and a horse. We were not in a wonderful financial condition ourselves, but we never went without food. As a young child I remember many instances of people who were too poor to pay for their eggs. I remember my mother saying, “It’s OK, you don’t need to pay for the eggs today.” And, “Why don’t you take this chicken home with you and have a good chicken dinner?” Wonderful Primary teachers also taught me many good things. My memory of names is very poor, and yet these people’s names are engraven on my soul. I think there is a cement of love that permanently binds such people’s names to our hearts and our minds. Most of all, I remember their love toward me. My Primary teachers demonstrated that love in lots of ways. I remember them coming over to see me when I was sick. If I ever missed Primary, they were there to find out why and to check on me.

When I was a very young boy I had pneumonia, and both my lungs filled up with fluid. My father asked me if I wanted a priesthood blessing. I told him I did. I remember asking him to call my uncle to come. When they placed their hands on my head and through the holy Melchizedek Priesthood called down a blessing of heaven, I felt different. I felt something flow into me, and I knew that the priesthood was very real. The doctor had told my mother that I was in very serious condition, but the next morning I felt great. My mother took me back to the doctor, and he checked my lungs. They were completely empty of fluid.

I would like to tell you children that I love you. I think about you all the time. I want you to know that I personally pray for you, and that I care about what is happening in your lives. I have great hopes for you. This world is just as beautiful now as when I was growing up, and I hope you see the beauty around you. I know that the Savior cares about every child individually. I want you to know that. He knows you personally and cares about each one of you dearly, deeply. He wants you to succeed and be happy. I know this Church is true. If you live the commandments, you will always feel good, and the Lord will bless you.

It was such a blessing to attend the temple daily. As I did, I felt many changes in my spiritual thoughts, like I was receiving more knowledge and greater wisdom. I could hear the Holy Sprit’s voice both when I was awake and in my dreams. One night I could not sleep. I closed my eyes and saw my stake president talking with me about what I would do after attending the temple, that my children would serve missions and that we would work hard to accomplish good things.
My mind was filled with so many ideas as I listened to the Spirit. For example, while staying in the patron house, I felt very helpless because my children and I were hungry. I didn’t know where to buy food. It was a different country, with different people and a different language. I prayed to Heavenly Father for a friend to help me. I heard to a voice say “Go to the temple Kajal” so I went to the temple to attend a second session. After the session, I was changing my clothes when suddenly a senior missionary named Sister Edward asked, “Sister Mahana, how are you? What are you doing about food?” I cried because I was so hungry and I said, “Please help me. Just give me bread because we have no flour and no rice. There are six children with us and all the food is finished.” She gave me a warm hug and said, “Don’t worry. I will go to the market with you after the temple. You are my children so if you have any problem, you talk with me.” I was so happy and suddenly I felt like this country was my country. I thought, “I am not alone here.” Even though all the people there were Chinese, they were also my family. I really enjoyed the last two or three days in the temple and patron housing.
I am grateful for the opportunity I had to attend the temple and be sealed with my family. I learned many things both while preparing to go and while we were there. This experience taught me more patience, more wisdom and more spiritual things. I love my Father.