Gospel Story Finder

Michelle was born with VACTERL association with hydrocephalus. “This means she has a lot of health problems,” say her parents. “But when Michelle hears there is something to be done, she will find a way.”
When President Nelson asked the youth to help gather Israel in 2018, Michelle T. of Oregon, USA, paid close attention.1
Then she decided to answer the challenge.
Almost immediately, however, she faced obstacles. Michelle wanted to get started with indexing, yet even with her membership number handy, she couldn’t sign up. Not with her parents’ help, and not with her grandparents’ help (and they are very big family history pros!).
Even after going into the nearby family history center, things still weren’t working. This, by the way, is highly unusual! Normally it’s a fairly straightforward process. When the volunteers at the family history center finally got Michelle up and running, they looked at her and said, “You must be meant for great things in family history, because you’re facing a lot of opposition right from the start!”
She has indeed gone on to great things in family history. In fact, a video she shared during RootsTech 2021 ended up being the #1 watched video from the conference. She has an inspiring story to tell! And it’s only gotten more inspiring since then.
Michelle can’t speak, so she uses text on her phone to communicate.
At first, Michelle decided to do a batch or two of names each Sunday evening. She joined a video call with her grandparents so that they could help teach her the ropes.
“It was hard!” she says. “Cursive is hard!”
However, she was not going to be intimidated. Michelle kept at it. As she started learning more and getting better, she decided to set a goal for indexing 1,000 names in 2019.
After hitting that goal, she set a much more ambitious goal for 2020—especially after the pandemic hit and she had more time available. She was soon indexing as many as 1,000 names each month!
As she kept indexing, bit by bit Michelle began noticing something interesting in her life—things were just simply getting better.
“I started noticing differences in my life,” says Michelle. “I felt healthier. I was kinder to my family. I felt calmer and more peaceful. I was happier! I wanted to do more good things. I felt the Spirit so much stronger! Indexing wasn’t just helping me, it was helping others.”
Michelle enjoys sewing and baking for her family. “It’s so fun to see them enjoy all the things I help create,” she says.
One of the other good things that began happening was an increased ability to focus on her other spiritual goals. “I was reading the scriptures more, especially the Book of Mormon,” Michelle says. “I also started studying my Sunday church lessons each week before class so I could be prepared for the discussions. Learning about my family history has become very important to me along with visiting the temple.”
I began to feel so much peace.
Life can be hectic. Lots of stuff can get in the way! But Michelle has learned the blessings that come from carving out enough time to do family history work. “When I started indexing, I began to feel so much peace,” she explains. “Then my family started noticing the peace I felt and it started flowing into the rest of my family. Our whole home just felt more calm and peaceful, and it is amazing. Jesus Christ is the source of peace. By doing the work that I have been called to do, I received a blessing of peace, the type of peace only the Savior can give. The best part is being able to share that blessing with others.”
Michelle loves teaching others how to do family history.
Clearly, Michelle has felt the blessings firsthand of how indexing blesses her life. She also has a testimony of how her efforts can also bless many other lives on both sides of the veil.
One experience she likes to share to teach this point is that her grandmother had been looking for a specific ancestor for a long time, without any luck. Then a few years back, somebody indexed the name of this family member. That’s all it took for Michelle’s grandmother to be able to find this ancestor at last!
“That story really motivates me,” Michelle says. Small steps connect many dots and bless many lives.

A few years later, I learned how essential sacrifice is to living the gospel. If we want the Lord to give us purpose and direction, we have to be willing to take that direction.
After school, things didn’t go according to plan with the company I was working for, so my wife and I had two choices: stay in the United States or return to Chile. We both clearly felt that we needed to return to Chile. It might seem normal to want to return home, but this was at a very difficult time. There weren’t a lot of jobs in Chile. I was having trouble selling our home. Financially and logistically, it was not the most intuitive thing to do; even our families thought we were being unwise.
What do you do when revelation comes into conflict with common sense? Although it was hard, my wife and I knew what to do. We reminded ourselves that the gospel had gotten us this far. Without the Lord, I wouldn’t have had the inspiration that helped me serve a mission, receive my education, and meet my wife. We just had to trust that whatever the reasons were, we were needed in Chile.
We left our house to our bishop so it could be rented until he could sell it, and we moved away. It was difficult, but we experienced so many blessings and miracles when we heeded the Lord’s call. The Lord knows where we are needed and where we can best serve His purposes, and He blesses us for our obedience.

Elizabeth Fetzer Bates, a piano teacher and the mother of six children, become totally blind in 1951. She accepted her blindness as a challenge and decided that she would learn to do everything that she could. She said, “I wrote ‘Pioneer Children’ because we are all pioneers—we’ve never been in today before.”
In 1969, she wrote “Book of Mormon Stories” because she loves the Book of Mormon and is grateful for America. She thinks that children like this song because it is simple and true.
Sister Bates still teaches piano lessons, and she believes that everyone should write a song. “Heavenly Father has created so many lovely things that we should sing as we walk along! We can always be happy if we remember to be grateful.”

When I was in the sixth grade, my class went to the Marin Headlands (California) State Park for a weeklong field trip. After a long drive on the bus, we unpacked our belongings and settled in to our bunk beds. We started talking excitedly about what activities lay ahead of us over the next week. Slowly, the conversation changed, and somehow the subject of religion was brought up. One person after another briefly stated what faith they belonged to. I didn’t want anyone to know that I didn’t go to church and was different from them. However, they noticed that I wasn’t participating in the discussion.
“What are you?” my friend asked curiously.
“I don’t go to church, so I guess I’m nothing.”
“You can’t be nothing. You have to be something!”
I decided to ask my mom what she was, because I thought that whatever she was, I must be the same. “Mom, everyone in my group at camp goes to church except me. They told me what religions they were and when they asked me what I was, I told them that I was nothing. I’m nothing, right?”
“Yes, I guess that’s right,” my mom said assuredly.
“But they said I have to be something,” I complained.
My mom repeated herself, “If you don’t belong to a particular church or religious group, then you are no religion at all.”
Two years went by, and I didn’t think too much about religion or the religious discussion we had had until my best friend invited me to attend a camp with her during the summer. After getting my parents’ approval, I excitedly told my friend that I could go. There were a lot of fun activities but also classes about principles and stories in the Bible that were brand new to me. I enjoyed learning about them, and I learned how to look up scriptures in my new Bible given to me by my friend. By the end of the week, I was “saved.” I wasn’t sure what that meant, but there were other people that were “saved” too.
I asked my parents if it was all right if I went to church with my best friend’s family every Sunday. They agreed. Unfortunately, something came up the next Sunday, and I wasn’t able to go. One week after another went by, and for one reason or another I did not go to church. The good feelings from camp slowly faded away. My freshman year of high school began, but my best friend and I drifted apart. Now I knew there was no chance of going to church with her family.
“Mom, can we go to church?” I asked several times, but I never really got the answer I was looking for. One day was different. Instead of the usual reply, she answered, “Well, I do know of a church we can go to. I know that they teach good things, because I used to go when I was little. I can take you to that church—The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” That was the first time I learned she ever went to church, even though I knew my grandparents went to church.
I was more than satisfied with this answer. I was finally on my way to becoming something.
My mom, sister, brother, and I were finally going to church! My grandmother helped by locating which church building to attend in the area where we lived. Looking back, I do remember feeling welcomed.
Over the next few Sundays, I was welcomed like a friend that hadn’t been seen for some time. When people noticed that I was new, they smiled and extended their hand to greet me and introduced themselves. I went to Young Women with the girls. I was 15 and belonged to the Mia Maid class. I quickly made friends despite my shyness. Everyone made me feel comfortable. My sister was in the Beehive class. Being four years old, my brother went to Primary. He didn’t like going by himself, so he always made my mom go with him. I think she enjoyed it. She sang children’s songs and relearned stories from when she was younger.
The missionaries came to our house and taught us the lessons. I was delighted when they came over. Even though they were around 20 years old, they knew a lot about the scriptures and the gospel of Jesus Christ. They had a special presence and a warm glow about them. I soon found out that other members of the Church had that glow as well, including my Young Women teacher, who always let me know how happy she was to have me in her class.
I became good friends with a girl named Julia. We decided to be “buddies” at girls camp. Even though I don’t like camping or hiking very much, I really enjoyed the entire experience. There was a different feeling at this camp. Our counselors made a special effort to see that we were having a good time and that everyone was included in all the activities we participated in. During the week, we had devotionals, a nature walk to learn about different plants, a first-aid class, and campfire skits. There was also a service project that everyone in the camp happily participated in. In fact, the service project table was always crowded with volunteers. All through the week there was a sense of organization, cooperation, and friendship.
On Saturday morning, the last day, everyone got together around the campfire, and whoever wanted to stood up and told the others of their testimony of the Church and expressed their gratitude for their family, friends, and what a great and memorable experience they had at camp. Most of them cried while they talked, and I cried along with them. I was surprised to see my sister go up on stage. She said how happy she was to come to this Church and how thankful she was for her family, especially me. That was one of the first times she had ever expressed her love for me as her sister. Once she sat down, I got up and sat next to her. I told her how grateful I was for what she said, and we cried together. We really made a special connection.
We continued going to church and taking the missionary lessons. As the weeks went by, I learned much more about the Church. I wanted to do the right things. I began reading the Bible and the Book of Mormon, praying, eating good food, dressing modestly, and trying to live a Christian life. After trying all these things, I felt good about myself.
My mother, who had not wanted to go to church, continued to participate in the missionary lessons and continued to take us to church every Sunday. We made the decision to be baptized, and my mother, sister, and I became members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on June 3, 2000. This was a decision that has changed all of our lives. My brother was too young to be baptized, and my stepfather did not share in our beliefs, but he always supported all of us in our Church-related activities and meetings.
We now have numerous friends that we would not otherwise have if we had not gone to church. We participate in many community service projects and have become happier people. I went on to receive my Young Women in Excellence award and attend community college. After high school, I became active in the single adults ward, where I met a wonderful returned missionary. We were married and have now had our first child.
Through all these experiences in the Church, our family has grown closer, and we are striving to become an eternal family. Seven years after our baptism, both my stepfather and my little brother made the decision to join the Church and were baptized together on January 20, 2007.

One day I remember I met in the grocery store some old friends of mine, and this woman had just paid eighty dollars for a small supply of food that she was carrying out of the grocery store. And I came in and bought one or two small things, and she said to me, “How can you do it? How can you do it?” And I said, “Well, I have a wife who is careful and she doesn’t waste anything. She doesn’t throw anything away. She just makes it over, uses it again. And we buy only what we need. And instead of buying the prepared things we can buy as many potatoes probably for a dollar that it would take many, many dollars to put into chips and in other preparations.” I have heard my mother-in-law, who was a very careful cook in her home, say many times, “That woman throws more waste from the kitchen than I would use in a month.” And I have seen that in many homes. And so I think that we need to be very, very careful.

I once fasted for an older relative of mine. He was having back problems and was going to have surgery. A great deal of my extended family in the area fasted for his welfare. Whenever I felt hungry throughout the day, I’d remember him, and all of my selfishness would slide away. After the day of fasting, we had a large family home evening with my extended family. Thankfully, he healed fairly quickly. His back still hurt a lot, but he could do so much more than before. I said a prayer, thanking Heavenly Father for watching over him.

My plan to make friends and integrate seamlessly into my new boarding school was working out as I had hoped—until the first Sunday morning when I hurried into the dining hall dressed in my suit and tie to grab a quick bite before heading to church. It felt like the room went silent as my peers, still wearing their pajamas, stopped eating and stared at me through their half-shut, sleepy eyes. I quickly realized that I was the only active member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints at the school.
The Lord has said to Church members, “Arise and shine forth, that thy light may be a standard for the nations” (Doctrine and Covenants 115:5).
Without me saying a single word, news of my religion spread rapidly. I began receiving daily questions about my faith, which usually began with “Hey, you’re Matteo, the Mormon, right?” Most questions were genuine, some were jarring, others were malicious, and a few were simply comical.
One friend asked me sincerely, “Isn’t it true that you guys don’t eat oranges?” to which I jokingly responded, “Oh yeah, oranges are straight from the devil.” As we were both laughing, I realized that his initial apprehension eased, and we felt a stronger connection as friends.
Since I could not escape my newfound notoriety, I decided to create opportunities that would add laughter to potentially uncomfortable conversations. I took a chance and dressed up as a nametag-wearing missionary for Halloween (a costume holiday celebrated in October). I knew this was a risky endeavor as I could be completely ridiculed, but I had a feeling that doing so would show that I was sure of my beliefs.
The risk paid off. Walking around campus as a missionary made everyone smile and sparked lively role-playing sessions. I broke some stereotypes and made some new friends.
After Halloween, people’s attitudes toward me changed, and questions about my faith evolved into peers asking me for advice about their own lives. To my surprise, friends and acquaintances who had gotten over the initial shock of learning that I do not drink, smoke, or do drugs and that I am waiting to have sex until I’m married turned to me for guidance specifically on those topics.
I found myself reassuring friends who were feeling pressured into having sex that they had the power to choose, encouraging some to go to the school counselor to talk about mental health and addiction concerns, and even consoling someone who made a mistake that would likely lead to expulsion. I was baffled by the way many of my peers could transition from mocking me to seeking my advice.
Over time, I understood that being completely confident, open, and vulnerable about who I was drew others to me who were seeking a judgment-free space and a listening ear.
I am grateful for two of the many important lessons I learned that year. The first is that healthy laughter can dissolve apprehension and contention and is an excellent way to unify people. The second is that choosing to be confident in who you are brings remarkable opportunities to help others that would have never come otherwise.
There were many times when I wanted to hide my religion and be known for something else. But having a sense of humor and vulnerability about who I am allowed people to get to know me as Matteo, not just someone with different beliefs.
Elder Matteo Huish, age 18, Arizona, USA
Enjoys spartan races, family game nights, and performing music.
Elder Huish is currently serving in the Canada Toronto Mission, speaking Persian.

Jason lay by the hearth, doing his homework in the firelight. But he couldn’t concentrate. The image of Mr. Rayburn’s ranch kept coming back to him, and with it the sight of the beautiful little pony the rancher had for sale. Only eighteen dollars, that’s all it would cost! he thought. But it might as well be five hundred. Jason’s father had gone to fight in the Civil War, and had left his ten-year-old son as the man of the house.
More than anything he had ever wanted before, Jason wanted a pony. But how will I ever get eighteen dollars of my own? he asked himself. All the other boys rode to school on horses. But Jason had to be up before dawn to milk the cow, feed the chickens, and then walk the long distance to school. When he wasn’t at school, Jason was busy at home, helping his mother on their farm.
Jason’s mother listened sympathetically when he told her about Mr. Rayburn’s pony. But when the boy finished, she just looked at him with a sad kind of smile. “Oh, Jason,” she said, “the pony sounds wonderful. But I’m afraid we don’t have any money to spare. We’re having a hard time now and with a new baby coming …”
“I’d forgotten for a minute about the baby. I hope it’s a girl. I’d like to have a little sister,” said Jason with a smile. “And maybe if I work extra hard, there will be enough money for a cradle.”
His mother hugged him close. “With you here to help, we’ll do just fine, Jason,” she said.
Later that night Jason climbed the ladder up to the loft where he slept. But before sleep came he couldn’t help thinking about the pony.
The next morning on his way to school, Jason saw a notice in the window of the general store:
Boys needed afternoons or evenings at the planing mill—10¢ an hour.
Ten cents an hour is a lot of money, Jason thought. I hope I can get that job after school.
The hours seemed to drag by until school was over. When the bell rang, Jason raced to the mill, but his heart sank when he saw the long line of waiting boys. At last it was his turn to apply for a job.
“How old are you, boy?” asked the man.
“Ten years old, sir. But I’ll be eleven in March. And I’m a hard worker,” replied Jason.
“I don’t think you’re old enough for a job here, son. Why don’t you try us next year?”
Jason did not move. “Please, sir, now that my father is at war, I’m the only man in the house. And I’ll work hard.”
“Well, if your dad’s off fighting, I guess we can find a job for you,” the man said.
Jason could hardly wait to tell his mother about his new job. “I know you’ll make me proud of you,” she said. “And since you’re working on your own time between school and chores, son, you may keep the money you earn.”
Jason jumped up with delight and hugged her. His chores weren’t so hard that night. In his mind he could just see himself up on the back of that little pony. It won’t matter if I don’t have a saddle. I’ll still be able to ride like the other boys, and they won’t call me a sodbuster anymore, he thought.
Jason liked his work at the mill. But it became hard to study without falling asleep and even harder to get up in the mornings. As the weeks passed, Jason’s little pile of money grew. Each payday brought him closer to his goal. However, it was nearly time for the baby to be born and Jason knew that he would soon have to quit working at the mill because his mother would need more help at home. Every night when he went to bed he wondered how long he would be able to work.
The next payday Jason counted his savings. He had $19.10, and in his mind he could see the little pony in their barn. He was so busy thinking about the pony that he almost bumped into a buggy parked in their yard. He looked up and his heart leaped. It was Dr. Frank’s. The baby must have been born! He raced toward the house. Then his face fell. The cradle! Mother still didn’t have a cradle for the baby. But it really wasn’t his fault. Mother had said he could keep the money he earned. Still, he felt a twinge of selfishness. He opened the door slowly and peeked in. His grandmother was in the kitchen.
“Grandma, is it a boy or a girl?” he asked.
Grandmother smiled and put a finger to her lips, “Shh, your mother is asleep. Come and see your baby sister.”
Jason approached timidly. He had not been this close to a newborn baby before. She lay curled up in the laundry basket, wrapped in layers of blankets. “Oh, Grandma, she’s so tiny,” he whispered.
“Your mother has named her Jenny. She looks a little like you did when you were a baby,” said Grandma.
Jason bent down to look at the tiny fingers. They moved when he touched them and curled themselves around his larger finger. He frowned. He was the man of the house, and this little baby was partly his responsibility. How could he think of buying a pony when Jenny had no cradle?
“Grandma, I’m not very hungry. I have something important to do. Please tell Mother I’ll be back soon.”
Jason ran outside and didn’t stop till he came to the general store. Mr. Wright, the proprietor, also did woodworking as a hobby.
“Mr. Wright! My mother had a baby girl. How much would you charge to make me a cradle for her—one that rocks?”
“Well, since you’re a working man,” the storekeeper said with a twinkle in his eye, “I’ll make a real nice one for you for nine dollars. I can have it ready by Friday.”
“That’d be fine,” said Jason. As he turned to leave, he spied some baby clothes inside a showcase. “How much is that pretty little gown?” he asked. “I want to get that for Jenny too.”
All the way home Jason whistled a jaunty tune. He was sure that the real man of the house couldn’t be any happier about the new baby than her big brother was.

As I lay in bed next to my wife, Meghan (name has been changed), my thoughts ran wild. Was this the end of our marriage? She’d just told me that she was leaving the Church. It suddenly felt like we were miles apart, not just inches.
This couldn’t be happening.
We’d both grown up active in the Church; both of us had served missions. We’d been married in the temple. We had done everything that you’re “supposed to do,” and now she was telling me that she didn’t believe anymore.
I was panicked. It felt like a big wall of ice was beginning to form between us. I wondered what this would mean for us and our family.
But since that day several years ago, not only has that ice between us thawed, but our marriage has actually thrived and blossomed into something I didn’t know was possible. I’ve learned a lot about myself and my relationships with God, my Savior, and Meghan. And I have more love, faith, and hope than I ever thought possible.
For those who might feel like they’re in a similar seemingly hopeless situation, I want to share three lessons that have gotten me to this place of peace.
Finding out your spouse no longer wants to be a part of the Church can be hard. It can feel like the end of your marriage or life as you know it. I know that’s how I felt. But now that time has passed, I have started to see this situation in a different light.
One of the key facets of the gospel of Jesus Christ is connection. We go to the temple in part to be connected to our past and future families. We kneel in prayer to connect with God. We partake of the sacrament to deepen our connection to our Savior and our covenants. And when your spouse comes to you with questions or concerns about the gospel or the Church, it gives you the opportunity to strengthen your trust and connection with each other, because they obviously love you enough to tell you about whatever is weighing on them.
Instead of seeing differing beliefs as a marriage-ending problem, realize that your spouse is sharing with you feelings that are difficult not only for you but also for them. Responding with love and respect can help take what is clearly a hard situation and allow us to bring about more good than if we were to react negatively or harshly.
If your spouse is struggling with the Church, it can bring a new beginning that allows you to examine and deepen your own beliefs, faith, and connections. You can also take time to ask your spouse what they do believe and establish more understanding between you. Take time to listen to them from a place of love.
President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) once said that one of the most important words in the dictionary is remember.1 And it might be one of the most important words in marriage too. Use this circumstance as a way to reconnect—to remember why you married your spouse and what the covenants you have made mean to you. You will be reminded of the joys and experiences you’ve shared together and what sparked your connection in the first place.
As you look back on what you’ve been through, you’ll be reminded that you have a deep connection with each other that can help you get through challenges in the future, including finding your new normal as a mixed-faith couple.
When it comes to any struggles or disagreements in our marriage—whether about Church-related topics or not—Meghan and I try to evaluate our relationship using three questions:
1. What’s working?
2. What’s not working?
3. What do we want to do or think differently?
Starting with what’s working is key—it reminds our brains that our relationship and marriage is working. It establishes common ground and helps us see what we already have and what we are doing well.
When we’ve tried to talk about issues without first acknowledging what is working, our minds tend to dwell on the issues instead of finding solutions.
For example, when we first started having discussions about faith, one of Meghan’s concerns was around our children having priesthood interviews without one of us present.
We started by asking, “What’s working?” and we agreed that we both love our children and care about them. We both want what is best for them. We want them to progress and to grow. And we reestablished the fact that we are on the same team.
Then we focused on “What’s not working?” For instance, Meghan didn’t feel comfortable with some of the questions our teenage children would be asked in bishop interviews without us there.
That brought us to question 3: “What do we want to do or think differently?” Meghan and I sat down and discussed a plan. We agreed that one of us would be present with our children if they had interviews with members of the bishopric. We spoke to our bishop about this, and he was supportive. He reminded us that he had all of our growth and welfare in mind.
When we strive to be patient and humble as we work out our differences, our minds are open to understanding, compromising, and helpful discussions.
There are also great examples of this idea in the scriptures, for example in Ether 2:24–25. The Lord first reviews what will work—everything He has done and will do to make the barges cross the sea safely. And then he asks the brother of Jared, “What will ye that I should prepare for you that ye may have light?”
The Lord uses this pattern of leading us, asking us to find solutions to our struggles. That is one way He teaches us to grow and become more like Him.
I’m a videographer and producer by profession. A project early in my career required me to use a technique called “forced perspective,” which means placing an object close to the lens to distort its size. If you hold a pebble up to your eye, it appears the size of a boulder. But if you hold it at arm’s length, you see that it’s not as big as you once thought.
We sometimes do this with our problems in life.
We can focus so much on our own perspective regarding an issue that it consumes every other good thing in our life. But we can change our perspective and see hardships or challenges, like a spouse leaving the Church, as an opportunity for growth and notice the other goodness around us.
God teaches this in Isaiah 55:8–9. He explains that His perspective is different than ours. When we recognize that we don’t know the end from the beginning, it helps us realize that our journey here on earth may be different than we expected or planned for ourselves. But in His omniscience, God certainly knew all that we would go through in mortality.
We knew before we came to earth that we would face challenges, but God has affirmed that all things can work together for our good if we follow Him and keep His commandments.
Changing my perspective of this situation is what helped me focus on my own journey with Christ. And that is a personal journey we each get to embark on.
When Meghan and I first started down this path of differing beliefs, I thought this challenge would be something I would just have to tolerate. I remember one evening after a particularly tumultuous argument, I was lying in bed with tears in my eyes.
Meghan didn’t want to speak to me, and I felt devastated for both of us.
But as I prayed for help and turned to the Savior, I thought about how much I loved her. I felt a rush of love and gratitude and said, “Meghan, I want to be married to you. I love you and I choose you, but if you want to leave, I understand. I would be heartbroken, but I would understand.”
In that moment, I felt the love of God for Meghan, for me, for my family, and for all of God’s children. We all have different journeys in life, and we can learn to work together even when we believe differently.
Through my choice to follow the Savior and through the mutual respect and love between Meghan and me, this circumstance has helped me become a better husband and father. I’ve learned to become more compassionate and a better listener. And ultimately, I have become a better member of the Church of Jesus Christ as I continue to look for ways to draw close to Him and to apply His healing balm in my life. I actively seek out the Holy Ghost each day, and I have learned to look at our differences of faith as an opportunity for me to deepen my faith and to help me become who I am meant to be.
Things aren’t always completely easy, but the further along we go together, the more endearing this journey becomes. I often think of the words of Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles: “Remember that God is on your side. He is not an angry, vicious God trying to trip you. He is for you—not against you. He is your Father. He is anxious to do everything possible to bless you. He hears your prayers and desires to make your life all that it can be.”2
I won’t ever stop praying for my family or looking for the goodness and the blessings of our circumstances. I’m grateful every day for a loving wife who, although she believes differently than I do, honors and respects both of our journeys. I don’t know if Meghan and I will ever share a testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ again, but my faith in Him motivates me to keep my marriage thriving, follow His commandments, and put my trust in Him. And what I hold on to most is the knowledge that Heavenly Father has promised that “all things shall work together for your good” (Doctrine and Covenants 90:24).

When Brigham Reneer (6) of Provo, Utah, sings with the Primary, “I Hope They Call Me on a Mission,”* he already knows, because of his special circumstances, what being called to serve is like. On February 4, 2001, he was called to be a stake youth missionary in the Provo Utah Oak Hills Stake. Even though most young men are called to serve full-time missions when they are nineteen years old, Brigham is already serving as a stake missionary.
His family lives near the Missionary Training Center in Provo, and every time they drive past it, he is fascinated by the groups of missionaries gathered outside. “I want to go on a mission,” he repeatedly told his parents, Julie and Randy Reneer. But they knew that his health would never allow him to serve a full-time mission.
The opportunity for him to serve came when Brother Wayne Arballo, the Reneers’ home teacher, was called to be a stake missionary. Brother Arballo said, “I was passing Brigham in the hall at church. I knelt down by him, and he tried to take my missionary tag. I let him take it, but it made me wonder if there was something more I could do for him.” Brother Arballo wanted to help Brigham fulfill his dreams of becoming a missionary. He talked to the stake mission presidency, and they spoke with the stake president. The result was that Brigham was called as a stake youth missionary.
Brigham received his call in a letter, much like the letters full-time missionaries receive. His grandfather bought him a black suit, his aunts and uncles gave him a set of scriptures, and the stake mission presidency ordered a missionary tag with his name on it. His missionary plaque hangs in the display case at the Oak Hills Second Ward. It includes his favorite scripture, Isaiah 11:6—“And a little child shall lead them”—and his favorite Primary song, “I’m Trying to Be like Jesus.”† He could not be set apart because he is not yet baptized, but he received a blessing from the first counselor in the stake presidency, Stephen Clark, to help him in his calling.
Being a stake missionary is a dream come true for Brigham. He and Brother Arballo, now his companion, visit Primaries and other organizations in the stake to share a message about Jesus Christ. After Brother Arballo bears his testimony, Brigham tells the story of the Savior’s life while his companion displays pictures. Brigham loves to bear his testimony that Jesus died on the cross and was resurrected. Even though Jesus’ crucifixion makes Brigham sad, he knows that the Savior lives and will return to earth. “Jesus helps people get better,” Brigham testifies. He knows that because of Jesus, we have nothing to fear.

A few days ago there came to my office a man from Las Vegas, Nevada. His wife and married daughter were with him. When we had accomplished the purpose of his visit, the younger woman asked if I would accept something from her thirteen-year-old daughter. She unwrapped a painting of two butterflies around a flowering shrub.
The mother explained that her daughter had been struck by a car in a terrible accident when she was four years of age. Her body was badly broken. She was left paralyzed from the shoulders down, a quadriplegic—without the use of arms or legs. She had painted this picture holding a brush between her teeth and moving her head.
As I listened to that story, the painting grew in beauty and value before my eyes. It became more than a portrayal of butterflies. It represented remarkable courage in the face of blinding adversity; tenacious practice in holding and moving the brush; pleading prayers for help; faith—the faith of a child, nurtured by loving parents, that she could create beauty notwithstanding her handicap.
Some might say that this is not a masterpiece. Without knowledge of its origin, that could be the judgment. But what is the test of art? Is it not the inspiration which comes from looking at it?
I will hang this small painting in my study so that during occasional hours of struggle there will come into my mind the picture of a beautiful little girl, robbed of the use of her feet and hands, gripping the handle of a paintbrush in her teeth to create a thing of beauty. Thank you, Krystal, for what you have done for me. I hope the telling of your story will bring a new measure of strength to others who, facing discouragement, have felt they could not go on. I hope that your example will be as a polar star to lead them in the darkness through which they stumble.
It may not be easy. It may be fraught with disappointment and challenge. It will require courage and patience. I remind you of the faith and determination of the thirteen-year-old girl who, holding a paintbrush in her teeth, created the painting I showed you earlier. Love can make the difference—love generously given in childhood and reaching through the awkward years of youth. It will do what money lavished on children will never do.

1 Senora Chali sat quietly in the cool shade of the trees in the backyard and read from her Bible. She found comfort in reading the words of the prophets and the stories of Jesus’ life.
2 The senora worked as a maid for a lady who lived in a large house and who sometimes rented rooms to other people. At this time a family from the United States was staying there. Senora Chali thought that they were a nice family and that their children were well behaved.
3 As the senora continued her reading, the family’s little girl came into the yard. Seeing the book, she asked, “Are you reading the Book of Mormon?”
“What is the Book of Mormon?” Senora Chali asked.
“It’s a book like the Bible that we Mormons believe in. Joseph Smith translated it from some golden plates given to him by an angel,” the child explained.
4 Senora Chali had not heard of the Book of Mormon before. In the weeks that followed, she wanted to ask the family about the book, but she couldn’t find the courage to do so. Then one day the family moved back to the United States. The Senora continued to read her Bible and wonder about the other book.
5 Some years later two young missionaries from the United States came to live at the house. As she became acquainted with them, they offered her a copy of the Book of Mormon. After all the years of waiting and wondering, she could hardly wait to read it!
6 From the very start of the book, the senora knew that the writings were truly the words of prophets. She could tell that it was a book much like the Bible, just as the little girl had told her. Senora Chali now could sit under her shady tree and read the Book of Mormon every day.
7 The missionaries were busy with their charlas (discussions) and tracting, and they forgot to ask the senora if she had read the book. Then they were transferred to another area.
8 Many months later Elder Scott Kelly and I were sent to the city. We also came to live at the house where Senora Chali worked. One morning as we were leaving to go tracting, she asked, “Do you have any other books that I can read besides the Book of Mormon? I have already read it three times.”
9 We were surprised to learn that Senora Chali had read the Book of Mormon and wanted to know more. We had been so busy asking others if they wanted to learn about the Church that we had neglected to ask her. We told her that we would teach her the gospel if she would like us to. She agreed, and in a short time she was baptized!
10 She became one of the most active members in the branch. She told her friends about the gospel and the Book of Mormon, just as the little girl had told her about them many years before.

Bronwyn Kerns of the Winchester Ward, Winchester Virginia Stake found an unusual way to incorporate the Young Women values into her daily life—she spent more than 200 hours making them into a quilt! Different squares of the quilt highlight different aspects of the values, and the center square contains the Young Women theme.

Bronwyn credits her mother for helping her with the project, which is now used as a decoration in Bronwyn’s home and as a special display at Young Women functions.

Photograph by Randy Collier
Our son, David, would be turning eight in less than a year. My husband and I wanted him to be prepared to make the sacred covenants of baptism. That meant doing things like reading the Book of Mormon, studying the baptismal covenants, and reviewing the baptismal interview questions. We had done all this before with David’s older sister, but David has autism, so deciding if he should be baptized was not as straightforward for us.
Yes, we knew what to do to help him prepare, but looming over all of this preparation were the questions: Should David be baptized? Was he ready? Did he need to be baptized? Did he understand what he would be committing to? How could we know for sure that we were doing the right thing?
Like many parents who have a child with a disability, these questions led us on a journey of seeking doctrinal insights and personal revelation.
Doctrine and Covenants 68:27 reads, “And their children shall be baptized for the remission of their sins when eight years old, and receive the laying on of the hands.”
If we relied solely on this scripture, we would conclude that any eight-year-old is ready to be baptized. However, the scriptures also teach:
“Little children are redeemed … through mine Only Begotten;
“Wherefore, they cannot sin … until they begin to become accountable before me” (Doctrine and Covenants 29:46–47; see also Moroni 8:7–22).
How could my husband and I understand if David was accountable? We continued to search.
We learned from Church policy that the individual’s accountability depends on both his wishes and his level of understanding: if David was worthy and desirous to be baptized and demonstrated that he could be held accountable, we should not withhold baptism from him.
We also learned that if David’s disability limited his intellectual capacity to that of a little child, he would not be held accountable and would not need saving ordinances (see General Handbook: Serving in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 38.2.1.8, ChurchofJesusChrist.org; members who have questions about Church policies can consult with their bishops).
David’s intellectual capacity was actually quite typical. However, I still found myself questioning whether David had reached an appropriate level of accountability. I continued to prayerfully search and hope for direction that would bring me peace.
I know some parents who have a child with a disability who take great comfort from reading that those who pass through mortality without having become accountable retain the status of innocence: “All little children are alive in Christ. … For the power of redemption cometh on all them that have no law; … and unto such baptism availeth nothing” (Moroni 8:22).
The Prophet Joseph Smith also described the condition of children who die and have not become accountable: “And I also beheld that all children who die before they arrive at the years of accountability are saved in the celestial kingdom of heaven” (Doctrine and Covenants 137:10).
I know that for these individuals, baptism is not necessary in this life. I also knew that God would help us to know what would be best for David.
For those with disabilities, there is a large range of abilities. Many individuals with disabilities are above the mental level of eight years and may be baptized and confirmed if they become accountable (see General Handbook, 38.2.3.5, ChurchofJesusChrist.org). Other individuals will not be accountable. I knew my husband and I could consult with our son, with God, and with our bishop, who stands as a “judge in Israel,” to help make the inspired decision concerning David’s readiness to be baptized (see Doctrine and Covenants 107:76).
These words from Alma brought me great peace: “And now, as ye are desirous to come into the fold of God, and to be called his people, … what have you against being baptized in the name of the Lord, as a witness before him that ye have entered into a covenant with him, that ye will serve him and keep his commandments, that he may pour out his Spirit more abundantly upon you?” (Mosiah 18:8, 10).
After all of our preparation, all of our lessons at home and in Primary, I started to ask David questions I knew he would be asked in his baptismal interview.
Sometimes his responses demonstrated understanding, but sometimes he didn’t know how to respond. I found myself wondering if we were doing the right thing.
Finally, the Spirit whispered to my heart, “Why don’t you ask David what he thinks?”
I turned to David and asked, “David, do you want to be baptized?”
He looked right up at me and said, “Yes!”
When I asked him why he wanted to be baptized, he said, “To be like Jesus.”
I was overcome with peace and direction. I knew right then that even if David didn’t understand every question perfectly, he was ready to be baptized and confirmed. He knew what he needed to know, and most importantly, he knowingly had a desire to enter God’s kingdom through baptism.
The day David was baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was full of love, friendship, and peace. The room was filled with family, ward members, school friends, and even teachers from David’s school. The example David set that day of choosing to follow Jesus and be baptized was an example that influenced many for good. Our family is stronger because we had the opportunity to learn how the works of God would be made manifest through our son, David (see John 9:3).

Shortly after I was called to serve as a stake president in 1987, I talked with a good friend who recently had been released as a stake president. During our conversation I asked him what he would teach me about becoming an effective stake president. His answer to my question had a profound impact upon my subsequent service and ministry.
My friend indicated he had been called to serve as a temple worker soon after his release. He then said: “I wish I had been a temple worker before I was a stake president. If I had served in the temple before my call to serve as a stake president, I would have been a very different stake president.”
I was intrigued by his answer and asked him to explain further. He responded: “I believe I was a good stake president. The programs in our stake ran well, and our statistics were above average. But serving in the temple has expanded my vision. If I were called today to serve as a stake president, my primary focus would be on worthiness to receive and honor temple covenants. I would strive to make temple preparation the center of all that we did. I would do a better job of shepherding the Saints to the house of the Lord.”
That brief conversation with my friend helped me as a stake president to teach relentlessly about and testify of the eternal importance of temple ordinances, temple covenants, and temple worship. The deepest desire of our presidency was for every member of the stake to receive the blessings of the temple, to be worthy of and to use frequently a temple recommend.

Twenty-one years ago last April, I came for the first time to the Salt Lake Tabernacle for a general conference of the Church. I was awed by the immensity of the building, but even more by the room-filling presence of the General Authorities who were assembled there.
In my growing-up years, many of them had visited our small branch in Montana. We had no television, nor could we receive conference on the radio. So we looked forward to each visit as a special blessing. They had, it seemed to me, a power and faith above other men.
Then on an April day 21 years ago, I discovered one source of a General Authority’s strength.
I was seated with the six children of Elder Ezra Taft Benson, one of whom was my college roommate. My interest heightened when President McKay arose and announced the next speaker. I watched respectfully as Elder Benson, whom I had not yet met, walked toward the microphone. He was a big man, well over six feet tall. He was a man with a Ph.D., a man internationally known as the United States Secretary of Agriculture and a special witness of the Lord, a man who seemed serene and sure, one who had addressed audiences throughout the world. Suddenly a hand touched my arm. A little girl leaned toward me and whispered urgently, “Pray for dad.”
Somewhat startled, I thought, “This message is being passed down the row, and I am to pass it on. Shall I say, ‘Pray for Elder Benson’? Shall I say, ‘You’re supposed to say a prayer for your father’?” Sensing the immediate need to act, I leaned over and whispered simply, “Pray for dad.”
I watched that whisper move along the row to where Sister Benson sat, her head already bowed.
Many times since that day I have remembered that message—Pray for dad, the patriarch of the home. Pray for him as he serves as district president or home teacher. Pray for him when he becomes executive secretary of a civic group, when his business flourishes, or when he takes a cut in salary. Pray as he gives counsel in family home evening. Pray for dad who works long hours so that Jerold can go on a mission and Diane can go to college. Pray for him as he speaks in sacrament meeting or gives mother a blessing that she might be made well again. Pray as he baptizes William or gives a tiny, newborn baby a name and a father’s blessing. And in the evening, should he come home tired or discouraged, pray for him. Pray for dad in all that he might do—the small things and the great.
As years have passed, general conferences have come and gone, and each time President Benson has stood to speak, I have thought, “His children, who are scattered across the continent, are united now in prayer for their father.”
And I have come to believe that the brief message that passed along the row some 21 years ago is the most important message a family can share. What extraordinary power and faith any man can have to meet the daily challenge of his life if somewhere in the world his daughter or son is whispering, “Pray for dad.”

“FIRE! FIRE!”
This warning cry brought fear to the hearts of all those who heard it in the little community of Farmington, Utah, for the only way they had to fight fires was to form a line and pass buckets of water from the nearby creek to the burning building. As a result, almost any building that caught fire was destroyed, and few of the contents inside were ever saved.
Aurelia Spencer Rogers, who lived in Farmington most of her life, heard the cries of alarm, and ran toward the house from which smoke was billowing up into the hot August air. The home belonged to friends with whom she was staying, after she had rented her own house that summer of 1902 and moved into Salt Lake City, twenty miles to the south. However, she returned often to Farmington to take care of business there and to put up fruit for the winter.
Aurelia joined in the bucket brigade that quickly formed. Characteristically, she thought of the loss her friends would suffer before she thought of her own clothes and personal articles that were inside. Suddenly, she had a sick feeling. Her Primary record books were in an upstairs bedroom where she had been working on them at a table near a window! Silently she prayed that by some miracle they would be saved, but it seemed to her that everything in the building was going up in smoke.
“I mourned exceedingly,” Aurelia said later. “I would not have minded losing my clothes if the records could only have been saved.”
Aurelia helped her friends move into a vacant house to set up housekeeping again. She was heartsick as she returned to Salt Lake, for she thought that nothing in the fire-swept home had been saved. Still haunted by the loss of the Primary record books, she returned to Farmington the next week to try to gather what information she could about the organization of the Primary so she could begin to write another history.
News of the miracle for which she had prayed awaited her when she called on her bishop. This is how she described it:
“Bishop Moroni Secrist felt prompted to climb onto the porch [during the fire] and go through the window to my room, thinking he might save some of the property; but when he went inside, the smoke was so dense he was nearly suffocated and had to be helped out by others . … As he neared the window he reached out his hand and felt the cover on the table and drew it toward him, gathering up the corners with the books … and passed them to those on the outside. Thus the records were saved through the providence of God.”
These records told the story of the first Primary ever held and how it came to be. They were used as the basis for Aurelia Spencer Rogers’ Life Sketches that she later wrote for children and dedicated to them with these words:
“Our children are our jewels; we have counted well the cost;
May their angels ever guard them, and not one child be lost.”

One of my distant Scandinavian relatives who was thriving financially in Denmark came with his family as converts to the Church to America and his family was directed to settle in Sanpete County. He was quite well-to-do, as I said, and he sold his lands, herds, and flocks for what he could and came without complaint. For a while he did well as far as the Church and his activities were concerned; and amazingly, even without the abundant rainfall and the water and the resources, he began to thrive again. He accumulated wealth again. He became so interested and involved in his possessions that he forgot about the purpose of his coming to America. They waited upon him as ward teachers. The bishop would call upon him and implore him to become active as he used to be, and he would promise them that in the future when he got certain things settled that he would do it. Finally he was growing old, and they came and said to him, “Now, Lars, the Lord was good to you when you were in Denmark. He has been good to you since you have come here. See all of the things that you possess. We think now, since you are growing a little older, that it would be well for you to spend some of your time in the interests of the Church. After all, you can’t take these things with you when you go.”
He stopped. He was shocked, and he said, “Vell, den, I vill not go.” But he did. And so will we. It is time today to begin the program and process of repenting!

Although 16-year-old O. J. Hawea is a star softball player and an integral part of a championship team, he’s never played in the finals.
“They’re held on Sunday, so I don’t play in them. It’s all right,” he says.
There is no softball team at O.J.’s school in Temple View, New Zealand, so he plays in a league a few towns away. Although he has been one of the youngest players on the team, he’s also been one of the strongest, quickest, and best. His teammates, who are mostly not members of the Church, miss him in the championship games, but they respect his commitment and sometimes ask him about the Church.
O. J. enjoys seminary and Scouting and is preparing to serve a mission.

When it came time to plan youth conference, leaders of a stake in northern Utah, USA, asked the youth what they thought would make it memorable.
After some discussion, their answer was simple: “We want to serve!” They decided they wanted to make a difference where they live. They wanted to help the hungry and the homeless, the lonely and the elderly. They also wanted to hold workshops in which professionals could help people struggling with serious issues like suicide and depression.
They adopted the theme, “You Love, You Serve.” And during the three-day youth conference, they did just that.