Gospel Story Finder

Walk around the ashes and rubble where Rachel used to live, and of course you notice all that’s gone. But even after the fire that destroyed Paradise, California, you’ll notice Rachel’s faith as she speaks of how she has seen God’s hand in her life.
Richard M. Romney, photographer
We’re used to having fires in this area, so when I saw the sky looking really smoky that morning, I wasn’t too worried. I was somewhat new to the area, but those who’ve lived in Paradise for a long time—especially those who live by the canyons—have been evacuated before.
This time, however, high winds carried the fire so fast that officials completely underestimated how long it would take to reach us. Most of us had no idea what was going on until the town was burning everywhere. Our situation went from “slightly concerned” to “emergency! Get out!” within one hour.
The evacuation was chaotic—and fast. Most people had to drive through fire to get out of town. As I drove out with my kids, smoke was everywhere. Embers had blown all over town and fires erupted everywhere. A lot of people left with their homes on fire or their neighbor’s home on fire. I didn’t know if our home would be destroyed or not.
As we drove, I had a conversation with God. I prayed that we would get out safely and that our home would be spared. We had only been in our house about two years. As a family, we worked together on improvements. My husband and children helped me redo the countertops and the floors. We called it our “cabin in the woods.” I loved my home, but I tried to be strong enough to submit my will to God’s will.
A few days later, we found out our home was gone. We had made it beautiful, and now it had burned down. But looking back, the time we spent in our house was such a wonderful time. I’m so grateful that God gave our family that time in that house.
One of the most beautiful things I’ve seen and heard as a result of this fire is the testimonies of people with what I call “big faith.” These people saw how God was in the details of their lives. “Big faith” like this is not something you can get overnight. It takes a long time to build.
It reminds me of the parable of the ten virgins. If you don’t have your lamp full, the time to turn to God is before the crisis. When disasters like this fire happen, that’s not the time to start filling your lamp. It’s like when you get in the car and ask your kids to put their seat belts on. Imagine them saying, “I don’t need a seatbelt. When I hear you screaming, then I’ll buckle up!” In a crisis they’d never have time.
After the fire, I’ve noticed that people here with “oil in their lamps” have not suffered as much. They’ve still been mourning, they still have challenges, but they still believe that God cares about them and is in the details of their lives. They know that God is powerful enough that He could have spared their homes from the fire, but they also don’t get mad when things aren’t fair. They accept His will. That’s what I call “big faith.”
Everyone who believes in God has seen His hand in this fire. You probably couldn’t prove to somebody that there’s a God because of one huge miracle, but God has brought about a million small miracles here in Paradise. If you believe in God, you can see His hand everywhere. Even though it’s been challenging, it has also been miraculous. God has helped us learn exactly what we need to learn.
Having “big faith” didn’t spare anyone from mourning their losses. One of the hardest parts about this whole experience is watching the mourning of those I love. I’ve probably done more mourning with them than I’ve done on my own account. Yes, it’s been challenging for my family, and we lost a lot. But we also gained a lot.
Members of the Chico California Stake did so much to serve those affected by the fire. Every person who came to the stake center on evacuation day was housed within hours by other members of the stake. They brought us into their homes and helped us get the things that we needed. I was also amazed by the donations of every kind that we received from Saints all over the world. We’ve been blessed and supported, and we can feel their love. It’s so great to be a Latter-day Saint. I will shout that at the top of my lungs!
When the fire happened, I prayed a lot because I needed to be able to mourn and I needed to teach my children how to mourn. God had some beautiful things to teach me. I learned the importance of “clean mourning.” What this means to me is that you don’t go to dark places with your mourning or go to a place of fear. You don’t let your thoughts go to a place of anger or shame. You mourn the way God would mourn. In this way, mourning is beautiful and healing. It feels more like love.
In this situation, the biggest challenge is the unknown. There are more questions than answers for everyone. We don’t know how fast Paradise can be rebuilt, or if it can be rebuilt because the amount of destruction and loss is incredible.
God has worked with me for years to prepare me for this situation. I’ve had other “disasters” in my life that have helped me know that God is beautifully guiding my life.
There’s nothing hard I go through that doesn’t have perfect and beautiful purpose and meaning. I’ve noticed that when I’ve allowed God to teach me, I’ve always learned from my challenges. God allows us to go through these challenges so we can come to trust Him and love Him. I know that when things get hard, He’s always there.
Rachel looks over the remnants of what was once her home. “The time we spent in our house was such a wonderful time,” she says. “I’m so grateful God gave our family that time in that house.”
The Paradise First Ward building, once a place of worship, gospel study, and activities, is now a pile of rubble. However, members have felt support from Saints all over the world. “We can feel their love,” Rachel says. “It’s so great to be a Latter-day Saint. I will shout that at the top of my lungs!”
“Everyone who believes in God has seen His hand in this fire,” Rachel says. “Even though it has been challenging, it has also been miraculous. God has helped us learn exactly what we need to learn.”
Members of the Lighthall family each hold up an item recovered from the ashes of their home. These serve as a reminder of God’s blessings. Speaking of the fire, Rachel says, “Yes, it’s been challenging, and we lost a lot. But we also gained a lot.”

I know that the challenge of placing the Book of Mormon in the heart of a person is not easy. Some years ago Sister Sorensen and I were preparing to go to Eastern Canada on a mission. We were in a restaurant in Salt Lake City just prior to going to the airport. A young man walked up to us and introduced himself. He was originally from Halifax, but had joined the Church and moved to Salt Lake City. He was married, with a small family.
He said, “My father, Raymond Gaetz, lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia. He is not a member of the Church. He does not understand the Church. He does not seem happy with me for having joined the Church. I would like to help him. I have sent him all kinds of information over the years. Some he has accepted, others he has sent back either unopened or marked ‘not interested.’
“I have here a copy of the standard works in a recently published quad. I think he might accept it if you would take it to him.”
We accepted the challenge. When we arrived in Halifax, I called Mr. Raymond Gaetz and told him who I was and that I had a gift from his son. I asked if I could present it to him. He asked me a little about his son and then said, “I have no interest whatsoever in the Book of Mormon. Please pass it on to someone else.”
I told him I couldn’t; it had his name engraved on it. I asked if he would please accept it from his only son.
He said, “No,” and hung up.
Soon thereafter I decided to pay Mr. Gaetz a visit. I was met at the gate of his apartment by a guard. The guard was kind enough to connect me with Mr. Gaetz on the intercom. I told him I would like to give the gift to him and bring him greetings from his fine son. He said I could leave the book with the guard but not to bother him further.
A few days later he called me and said, “I noticed this is an expensive book. I’m a frugal Scotsman, and I can’t stand to see it go to waste. Please come and get it. We can have my name removed and you can give it to someone else.”
I made an appointment to see him. When I arrived, the guard told me I was to take the book with me. I took the book, returned to the office, and put it on my desk to remind me that I had a work yet to complete.
Sometime later my wife, Verla, came into the office, saw the book on my desk, smiled, and said, “My goodness, what kind of a missionary are you? Haven’t you delivered those scriptures to Mr. Gaetz yet?”
“Sweetheart, I’ve been trying, but without much success.”
She responded with, “Oh, come on now. You’re just too busy.”
I was a little irritated, so I said, “Well, Verla, why don’t you try?”
She said, “All right, I will.”
She took a different approach entirely. She called their home, and fortunately Mrs. Gaetz answered the phone. After a friendly conversation, Verla invited Mrs. Patricia Gaetz and her husband to the mission home for dinner. She accepted Sister Sorensen’s invitation. About halfway through the dinner I was getting anxious to present the book. Sister Sorensen gently nudged me under the table, so I knew better. After the dinner we had a lovely discussion, but we never mentioned the Book of Mormon.
A few days later Mrs. Gaetz called and invited us to their apartment. We had a delicious lunch and talked. This went back and forth for some weeks. Then one day I again mentioned to Raymond, “Remember that wonderful book your son has given you? I surely would like to present it to you.” This time Raymond accepted the book.
We continued to meet together socially, and then one day I said, “Raymond, it’s time for you to receive the missionary discussions.”
“No, I’m not interested. But I’ll tell you what I will do. I walk every day at noon in the park for my health, and I would be happy to hear about the Book of Mormon through your lips. We’ll talk religion.”
So I arranged my schedule during the lunch hour to walk in the park two or three times a week with this good brother.
Our friendship deepened during these discussions. I soon asked him to be baptized. He said, “No, I’m not interested in being baptized.”
“Well, you’ve heard the gospel, you know it’s true, you need to accept it. You’ve been reading the Book of Mormon; now take it into your heart.”
“I haven’t the faith yet to accept the Mormon Church.”
One day a video came to the mission office entitled How Rare a Possession. You may have seen it. It’s about a man who found a copy of the Book of Mormon without a cover or introductory pages in a trash can in Italy. The man read the book, accepted it, lived its principles, and spent almost a lifetime trying to find out more about the Church. He eventually found the missionaries, was baptized, and came into full fellowship. The video projects him later in his life going to the temple in Switzerland. It is a true story.
I gave the video to Raymond. A few days later, during our usual walk, it was obvious that he had changed. He said, “You know that man that found the Book of Mormon was not unlike me. I do have hope in eternal life. I’ve changed my mind. I’m ready to be baptized.”
“Do you have a testimony of Jesus Christ?”
“You know I have.”
“Are you willing to give up smoking?”
“I can do it.”
“Are you willing to give up drinking?”
“I will.”
“Ray, you’re a wealthy man. You’re a captain of industry. You’re a man of influence, a man of substance and means. Are you willing to pay a full tithe on all that money you make?”
“I certainly am.”
“Good. Have you told your wife, Patricia?”
“No. That’s your job.”
We went right to his home. I told her of his decision and invited her to join him in baptism.
She said, “I can’t be baptized. You know I’m a good Catholic. Neither can he. He still smokes and drinks, and he won’t pay all that tithing.”
You know something; he did. He gave up his coffee, tea, alcohol, and tobacco, and he paid his tithing and rejoiced. When he came up out of the waters of baptism, he said, “Now I want to go to that temple.”
“Brother Gaetz, the temple is a year away. You’ll have to work hard and prepare yourself spiritually.”
“That’s what I want to do.”
A year later Sister Sorenson and I had completed our mission. We flew to Washington, D.C., to meet Raymond at the temple. As we walked out of the temple after several sessions, he looked up at those beautiful spires and made an unusual remark.
“I feel like I’m the last one in and the first one out.”
“Brother Ray, what do you mean?”
“Well, recently I have contracted terminal cancer. I don’t know how long I have to live. I am just so grateful that I have been able to come here to the house of the Lord. I feel very much like the man that was portrayed in the film who lived out his life and finally found the temple.”
Sometime later I was at Raymond’s side when he died, one of the happiest men I have ever known.
Recently a note written by Ray Gaetz to his young grandson fell into my hands. It is dated October 5, 1989, Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada:
“My Dear Grandson,
“I am sending you this Book of Mormon that I hope will be your lifelong companion. The teachings of this book will have a profound influence on your life. If you follow these teachings, you will be the recipient of many blessings. May our Father in Heaven bless and care for you.
“With love, Grandad.”
So it is that Brother Raymond Gaetz came to understand that “come unto Christ” is not a nondescript, lovely phrase. The Book of Mormon teaches us of the power and glory and gift of God and the desire to come unto Christ.

I came to understand more fully the relationship between the “priesthood” rocket and the “opportunity to benefit from Christ’s atoning power” payload several years ago. During a weekend, I had two assignments. One was to create the first stake in a country, and the other was to interview a young man and, if all was in order, restore his priesthood and temple blessings. This 30-year-old man had joined the Church in his late teens. He served an honorable mission. But when he returned home, he lost his way, and he lost his membership in the Church. After some years, “he came to himself,” and with the help of loving priesthood leaders and kind members, he repented and was readmitted by baptism into the Church.

Later, he applied to have his priesthood and temple blessings restored. We set an appointment for Saturday at 10:00 a.m. at the meetinghouse. When I arrived for the earlier interviews, he was already there. He was so anxious to have the priesthood once again, he just could not wait.

During our interview, I showed him the letter explaining that President Thomas S. Monson had personally reviewed his application and authorized the interview. This otherwise stoic young man wept. I then told him that the date of our interview would have no official meaning in his life. He looked puzzled. I informed him that after I restored his blessings, his membership record would show only his original baptism, confirmation, priesthood ordination, and endowment dates. He choked up again.

I asked him to read from the Doctrine and Covenants:
“Behold, he who has repented of his sins, the same is forgiven, and I, the Lord, remember them no more.
“By this ye may know if a man repenteth of his sins—behold, he will confess them and forsake them.”

Tears filled his eyes a third time. Then I placed my hands on his head, and in the name of Jesus Christ and by the authority of the Melchizedek Priesthood, and with the authorization of the President of the Church, I restored his priesthood and temple blessings.

The joy that came over us was profound. He knew he was once again authorized to hold and exercise the priesthood of God. He knew that his temple blessings were again fully operative. He had a bounce in his step and a radiant light about him. I was so proud of him, and I sensed how proud Heavenly Father was of him too.

Thereafter, the stake was organized. The meetings were well attended by enthusiastic, faithful Saints, and a wonderful stake presidency was sustained. However, for me, the historic occasion of organizing this first stake in a country was overshadowed by the joy I felt in restoring the blessings to this young man.

One Sunday morning, we were sitting on the veranda when my oldest daughter, who was three years old, asked me a question that caught me by surprise. She saw some of her friends going to church in their nice clothes. “How come we don’t go to church?” she asked. At that time we weren’t attending church because my wife and I belonged to different churches and neither wanted to join the other’s church.
My daughter’s question really made me think. I was troubled because before I was married, I always went to church. That night I was inspired to kneel and seek divine guidance. I recall even saying that I would offer my life to serve the Lord.
A few days later, two young men knocked at our door and introduced themselves as messengers of the Lord. When I saw their calling cards, I remembered some things I knew about their church. When I was young, I used to read western novels that referred to Mormon pioneers and settlements. I had also read about some members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in American magazines. When we started talking about the doctrines of the Church, I was surprised to find that I already believed most of its teachings. I had read the Bible and knew that God the Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost were three separate beings, and I felt that there must be prophets and revelation.
The elders continued to teach me for several months, but somehow I could not gain a testimony of Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. I had read the passages in the Book of Mormon that the missionaries marked for me, but I had trouble accepting their challenge to read the whole book.
I enjoyed having them in our home, but I had the feeling that they were getting discouraged with me. One day when they challenged me to read and pray, I felt that it would be the last challenge. I didn’t want them to stop their visits, so I decided to read. This time before starting, I prayed with a real desire to know if the book was true. A miracle happened: instead of getting bored as usual, I was so interested that I couldn’t stop reading.
That night, after reading many chapters, I knew that this was the word of God. Now that I had a strong testimony of the Book of Mormon, it was very easy for me to accept Joseph Smith as a prophet. When the missionaries returned and asked me if I wanted to be baptized, I said yes. I was baptized in November 1964. I felt the Spirit of the Lord so strongly during my baptism that I really felt reborn. Besides the covenant of baptism, I made a private covenant that I would serve the Lord all my life.
I am very grateful to be a member of the Church. I hope that you children of the Church will learn through prayer and study that the gospel and the Book of Mormon are true. My wife and I have eight children whom we have raised in the gospel. I am grateful my oldest daughter, when she was a small child, asked me that important question. Because of her, I began to seek the truth and to serve the Lord and others. You can help your parents and families remember the Lord, as my daughter helped me.

Summers in San Antonio, Texas, can get hot, very hot. But this particular Saturday in July, the temperature was record breaking, well over 100 degrees Fahrenheit. And best of all—yes, best of all—most of the teens in the San Antonio Texas Stake were lost.
They had forgotten themselves, their own aches and pains, their own problems and worries, and even the heat. They were lost in service to a group of children they would never meet face to face. They were refurbishing the play areas, grounds, and buildings of Providence House, a day-care facility devoted to children with life-threatening illnesses. Because of the children’s illnesses, the group would not be allowed to meet those who would benefit directly from their work.
For these teens, their youth conference was devoted to service, the true kind of service that is given with no thought of reward, even the reward that comes from seeing the smiling faces of children. They had chosen to dress modestly, even though temperatures had virtually never been higher. They chose to work outside or inside until every job was finished. And they chose to work with an attitude that they hoped would please their Heavenly Father.
The adult leaders took every precaution. They made sure teens had plenty to drink and were taking rest breaks in the shade or inside in the air conditioning. They even broke out a shaved-ice machine to serve plenty of cooling, flavored ice. They had also worked carefully with the director of Providence House in identifying exactly what needed to be done so the correct materials and tools were on hand.
Carol Bova-Rice, the executive director of Providence Home and Family Services, said, “I cannot find the words to express our appreciation. Other groups have offered to help, but they didn’t want to do big things. With this group, we planned what really needed to be done in advance, no matter how big. It’s wonderful.”
Taking their theme from the scriptures, the stake youth council agreed on the title “Mission Possible.” They liked the idea that individually they could not accomplish much but “with God all things are possible” (Matt. 19:26). They were particularly excited about combining the usual youth conference dances and barbecues with an outstanding service project. They wanted something substantial so the teens could really pull together to accomplish something big, something that would be memorable, and something that would teach a great lesson of Christlike service.
Hannah Clark, one of the teen co-chairs of the youth conference, explained, “There are some people that need our help. That’s where we need to come in and be like Christ. We need to serve. That is the pure love of Christ. It’s charity. That is the way to do it, by serving, even if we can’t see them and even if we don’t even know who they are. We are becoming more the way that we should be when we do those things.”
“We’ll have to visualize the children coming in,” said Chris Weirich, another youth co-chair, “and seeing the new things in a room, the new murals, all the new materials, the repainted play equipment, the new grow boxes; you just have to visualize it. You won’t see them, but you can still feel their excitement.”
On youth conference Saturday, Providence House was bustling. Everyone was assigned a group, and each group was assigned a job. Because of the red T-shirts issued for youth conference, the scene was literally a sea of moving, shifting colors. Everyone had a cleaning rag, a paintbrush, a broom, a vacuum, a hammer, or a rake in hand. Every spot that needed cleaning was cleaned. Everything that needed a new coat of paint was painted. Every weed was pulled. Every toy was sterilized. Every shelf in the storage closets was stacked with donated food or supplies. The San Antonio Stake youth had indeed taken on the big things.
Even as hot and tired as they were, by early afternoon nearly everything had been finished. The group returned to the stake center for a testimony meeting. One after another, they spoke about the things close to their hearts, about giving service without complaint, about how positive they were about the truthfulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Sandra Clark summed up how she felt, saying, “I’ve never been so sore and so happy with everything that’s going on around me. So many things were done with the right spirit this weekend.”
There were some nice, unexpected moments. Brant Ellsworth mentioned one. “When we first got there, we were digging the holes for the grow boxes. Some girls were weeding along the fence, and they started singing. It was so beautiful. They were doing a hard job and singing as they were doing it. It made me think of the pioneers. They didn’t know how their actions would affect other people. They didn’t see us or know how much we appreciate the things they did for us. I felt that same spirit while we were working.”
Two girls, working in the building that houses the nursery and the offices, paused to look at some small metal stars engraved with first names and attached to the wall.
“What are these for?” they asked.
These represent the children at the center who have died from their illnesses, they were told. Suddenly, all the work and effort in such extreme conditions seemed like such a small thing. They had found those that the scripture speaks of when it says, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matt. 25:40).
While planning things that needed to be done at Providence House, several items on the list became good ideas for one person to take on as a Laurel project or as part of an Eagle Scout project.
Steven Ellsworth took on the canned-food drive. Checking with the center about its specific needs, Steven set a goal to collect 750 cans. He also created a Web site to keep stake members informed about youth conference and about what specifically was needed for the food drive.
Amy Kreiger accepted the assignment to create school boxes suitable for the children at the center. She organized painting and assembling the boxes and arranging for the school supplies to go inside.
Megan Baillio was excited to take on the redecorating of several rooms used for children who stay overnight. She worked with her mother in learning to sew quilt tops and curtains for the rooms. She organized groups at the youth conference to tie the quilts.
Esther Crandall accepted the assignment to make baby-sized blankets for the center. She worked with her mother to learn to make blankets with decorative edgings.

In 2015, I was doing proxy baptisms in the São Paulo Brazil Temple. While I was there, a man asked me if I was preparing to serve a mission. I said I hoped to serve someday. Then he said, “I think you need to prepare to serve a mission and speak French.”
I thought to myself, “Why French? I’m from Brazil. How will I serve a French-speaking mission?” Nevertheless, because of that experience in the temple, I started studying French.
A few months later, I was at a bus terminal in São Paulo reading the Book of Mormon in French. When the woman next to me saw the book’s cover, she started speaking to me in French. I had been studying the language for only a few months, but I understood her perfectly!
To my surprise, she knew about the Book of Mormon because she had met the missionaries in Paris, where she lived. She asked me many questions about the Nephites and the Savior’s visit to the Americas. Inexplicably, I was able to speak to her as if I were speaking in my native language. I gladly gave her my Book of Mormon.
At the beginning of 2020, I went to England to study English through an exchange program. I met a girl there from Morocco. Her questions about why I didn’t drink alcohol led to a discussion about the Word of Wisdom, the Church, and the Book of Mormon. I showed her my Book of Mormon in French, and I was again able to answer questions about the gospel in French.
I realized that people need to know about the gospel and this special book in their own language and that I could use the Book of Mormon to be an instrument in God’s hands to help others.
Inaê Leandro (right) with one of her companions, Sister Wongsin Elisaia, while serving on Temple Square in Salt Lake City, Utah.
Later, when I opened my mission call, I learned I was going to Temple Square in Salt Lake City, speaking Portuguese.
“Really?” I thought. “Everyone there already knows about the Church, and they don’t even speak French in Utah.”
When I told my family, my father asked, “You are leaving your high school teaching job, your home, your career—everything—for a mission? How much will they pay you?” He was surprised when I told him I would pay for my mission myself.
At first, I didn’t know why I was called to Utah, but Heavenly Father knew where I needed to be. At Temple Square, I quickly learned that if you know 10 languages—or only 2 or 3—you can teach in all 10 languages there. My companions and I gave tours in Spanish, Portuguese, and English at Temple Square and at the Humanitarian Center at Welfare Square. We also taught online in different languages through the ComeuntoChrist.org website.
I have experienced the gift of tongues for myself. When we have the desire and the enthusiasm to learn a language, and if we work hard, God blesses us in miraculous ways that help us speak and understand.
“When we have the desire and the enthusiasm to learn a language, and if we work hard,” says Inaê, “God blesses us in ways that help us speak and understand.”
I love reading the Book of Mormon in other languages. Doing so helps my language skills and grows my testimony and understanding of gospel principles.
Whenever I called home on preparation day, I shared details about mission successes and experiences. I focused on what I had in common with family members, and they shared their travels and things that were happening at home. They even told me how they fed the full-time missionaries pizza because they had heard stories of nice people in Salt Lake City taking care of my companion and me.
It has been 16 years since my mother passed away. That was a difficult day, but I know that families can be eternal. I know I will see my mother again. I know she will recognize me as her daughter. Many people don’t have this knowledge.
That’s why I served a mission. That’s why I learned new languages. And that’s why I still try to help others find gospel answers for themselves.

Aric’s story, Toronto, Ontario
Aric (pictured top right) is a PhD student at the University of Toronto, working with heart tissue and regenerative medicine.
In describing his research, he explains, “Certain types of stem cells can turn into anything in your body. We can put stem cells in a petri dish and grow them into a heart cell. After two weeks, they’ll start beating themselves. We then use these to model different diseases and to test different drugs. My goal is to one day grow a heart in a laboratory setting like this.”
Aric had his own change of heart during his mission to Belo Horizonte, Brazil. “When I served a mission, I learned how to listen to and follow the Spirit. It helped me learn how to study, to learn how to apply myself.” He changed so much that he was concerned about coming home. “I didn’t really know how to act or what to do,” he admitted. “I had to relearn how to act in certain situations. Going to institute helped me.”
The social network at institute is important to Aric. “I’ve been able to befriend people who needed friends. I’ve been able to comfort people when they needed to be comforted. That’s important to me, to help other people, but then it’s also important for me to feel that from other people as well.”
He jokes about how long he has been going to institute, but he keeps going. “Every time that I go, I feel the Spirit that is present there. And it helps me be a better person, stay in good places, and do well in my work.”
Aric draws a comparison between his work and institute. “If we put a cell in a good environment, there are internal changes that happen in the cell that make it more receptive to those positive changes or those positive signals that we want to give it. Over time, the cell changes—it morphs into something better, something bigger than itself. For me, that’s something very, very special. If I put myself into the right environment, then I’m going to become more receptive to these spiritual aspects of life and less receptive to the negative influences that happen in the world.”
He concludes, “God is real. That’s something that I feel deep down inside myself. I haven’t always felt His love in my life. I’m starting to realize that that’s because of decisions that I’ve made. I realize that He’s there to help me, that He really wants me to be my best self.”

Skye MacMillan leaned over the top rail of the bucking chute and watched the feisty 300-pound young steer rear up and try to climb over the steel gate. Her right knee quivered, and her mouth was dry. She was on chute number three, and the announcer was calling out the names of the riders. His voice echoed inside the hard helmet that fit snugly over her ears. The nose guard and chin strap felt alien and uncomfortable on her head. Her two brown pigtails were cupped against the back of her neck by the helmet. She dry swallowed.
This was the third and toughest event she had entered today. While she waited for the bareback steer-riding to start, she had time to think about the other two events she had won.
The first event, barrel racing, she hadn’t won easily. Her trusty pony, Apache, was quick and fast, but she had hit one of the barrels with her knee. Fortunately, it hadn’t tipped over—all the hours of practice in the south corral at home had paid off. Then Apache had bellied flat-out over the finish line, and they had won by six-tenths of a second over the nearest competitor.
The second event, goat-tying, had been even harder. Again, Apache had given her the edge. He wasn’t spooked by goats, and they had practiced and practiced until she could dismount as close to the goat as possible. Apache had learned to slow down at the last minute so that Skye could leap off over his shoulder and maintain her run toward the goat without falling. In fact, Apache was so savvy that he would pace himself right beside her. Skye could keep her right hand on his shoulder, and he helped her maintain her balance as her feet hit the ground. At the last second he would veer off and let her finish her run to catch the goat.
Skye’s dad had let her practice at home on some of the smaller calves. She was good at kneeing them over on their sides and fast-tying three legs together with tight, fast wraps and slipknots. The goat had been tougher. Its legs were skinny in comparison, and Skye had been afraid it would kick free after she made her last wrap and slipknot. As she had leaped up and thrown her hands in the air to indicate that she was finished, she had held her breath. The goat had kicked and wriggled to get free of the ropes, but the ropes had held, and her time of 15.09 seconds had beaten the nearest competitor easily.
This was her second year competing in the PeeWee Rodeo Association county meet. Last year she had done well, but she had won no firsts. This year she already had two firsts. If she could win the bareback steer-riding event, she would have three firsts and a trophy as all-around cowgirl to take home. She would also qualify to go to state finals.
Skye’s thoughts jerked back to the ornery critter rearing and jumping in the chute. Her dad and one of the chute helpers were attaching the cowbell and getting the belly strap cinched up on the young steer. Her dad looked at her and gave her a thumbs-up sign.
She grinned back at him nervously. She slapped her leather-gloved hands against her thighs. Then she rubbed the palms of her gloves together to work in the resin so that she wouldn’t lose her grip on the ropes.
The announcer called for the first chute to open, and Skye watched as Billy Marten, who was in her 4-H horse handlers’ group, rode out on the back of a Hereford steer. His steer jumped out of the shute sideways and ran in a straight line for about ten paces. Billy tried to get the animal to buck, but it wouldn’t. Then the steer came to a complete stop. When Billy kicked it in the shoulders, the steer made a quick half-turn and pitched him off.
Billy sat up and yanked off his helmet. He spit dust disgustedly as he got up and walked away. A rodeo clown ran over and lured the steer away as it headed back toward Billy.
Ginny Helms was waiting her turn in chute number two. But when her gate opened, she fared no better than Billy had.
The announcer called Skye’s name, and she climbed over the rail to get onto the back of the pawing, snorting black steer. Her dad was beside her, helping her to get astride the steer and to wrap the rope around her left hand. He looked her square in the eye and said, "You don’t have to ride this year, honey. You have plenty of years ahead of you."
Skye shook her head, "No. I’m going to do it!"
Her dad gave her a quick hug and said, "Now, remember, if you start to fall, let go of the ropes—first right hand, then left hand, and you’ll be free and not get dragged."
She nodded at him and then at the chute helpers, who were shouting all kinds of instructions at her:
"Lean way back."
"Keep jabbing his shoulders."
"Jump wide when you hear the time whistle."
"Stay flat after you fall."
"Let the clown lead the steer away from you."
"Hang tight."
Skye’s head was buzzing with all the directions when the gate flew open.
The steer jumped sideways out into the arena. It jumped straight up. When it hit the ground on all four feet, Skye landed on its back with a teeth-rattling jolt. She recovered instantly, though, and leaned far back and kicked the steer’s shoulders with her heels. It spun to the left. It spun to the right. Skye’s only thoughts were to hang on and to pray that the time whistle would blow so she could let go and jump off. The steer kicked out with its hind legs, then tucked its head between its front legs. Then it stood on its hind legs and whirled around with its front legs pawing the air.
When the whistle blew, Skye instantly let go and flew over the steer’s right shoulder. She hit the dirt flat on her back, and the wind gushed out of her lungs.
Her dad came to help Skye. He loosened her belt and unbuckled her helmet as she struggled to breathe again. He kept asking her if she was hurt. All she could do was shake her head, because she hadn’t caught her breath yet. When Skye finally managed to gulp down enough fresh, clean air, she grinned broadly. Her dad helped her up, and as they walked out of the arena together, he lovingly put his arm around her shoulders.
Later, as they watched the remaining contestants try their skills, Skye looked at her dad and asked, "Dad, would you have been awfully disappointed with me if I’d chickened out?"
"Of course not. As a matter of fact, I’ve been wondering if you really want to go on with this rodeo business. I’m not sure I like seeing you get tossed around like that!"
Skye hugged him tightly and said, "Yeah, I’m going to go on with this rodeo business. After all, they say the first time out of the bucking chute is the worst. Besides, that trophy’s going to look awfully good on the mantel over the fireplace."
Skye leaned against her dad, put her head back and let out a long "Whoooopeeee!"

Illustrations by Juan Caminador
Shannon was sitting in Primary. She was listening to Sister Tayson teach a lesson. The lesson was about following Jesus and Heavenly Father.
Sister Tayson put papers on the floor. The papers looked like stepping-stones. Each one was something that leads us closer to Heavenly Father. Sister Tayson read each one. They said:
“Be baptized.”
“Receive the Holy Ghost.”
“Go to the temple.”
Shannon frowned. She wasn’t old enough to do those things. But then Sister Tayson put down another step.
“Can you read this stone?” Sister Tayson asked Shannon.
Shannon was just learning to read. She looked at the paper stone and read, “Pray.” She thought about that.
“I can do that!” she said. She felt happy.
Sister Tayson smiled. “You can do lots of good things!”
She asked other children to read stepping-stones. They said:
“Say nice things.”
“Go to church.”
“Help with chores.”
Shannon felt better as Sister Tayson showed each step. She knew she could follow those steps. She didn’t have to wait to follow Jesus! She didn’t have to wait to follow Heavenly Father! And when she was older, she could do all of the things on the stepping-stones.

My friend Arnaldo and I both served missions for the Church, but after our missions, I was less active in the Church for almost 10 years. Arnaldo paid for my subscription to the Liahona (Spanish) year after year. His faith has been rewarded. I am again active, have a calling, and have had the blessing of returning to the temple, thanks to Arnaldo and the Liahona.
Alberto Tejada ChacónHunter Ward, Arequipa Peru Central Stake

One of my children came in, said that Brother Newton Hall’s folks were out of bread. Had none that day. I put … our flour in sack to send up to Brother Hall’s. Just then Brother Hall came in. Says I, “Brother Hall, how are you out for flour.” “Brother Millett, we have none.” “Well, Brother Hall, there is some in that sack. I have divided and was going to send it to you. Your children told mine that you were out.” Brother Hall began to cry. Said he had tried others. Could not get any. Went to the cedars and prayed to the Lord and the Lord told him to go to Joseph Millett. “Well, Brother Hall, you needn’t bring this back if the Lord sent you for it. You don’t owe me for it.” You can’t tell how good it made me feel to know that the Lord knew that there was such a person as Joseph Millett.

My brother is a missionary in Russia. I like to draw pictures and write letters to send him. I draw my brother and his companion wearing white shirts and ties. I draw a big circle around the two elders and write “Force Field from Heaven” to show that I know they are being protected. Even though the force fields are pretend, Heavenly Father’s power is real, and I have faith that He will take care of my brother.Marci P., age 7, with help from her mom, Utah

There are many other opportunities to share the gospel. For example, just this summer I received a happy letter from a new member who learned about the restored gospel when an old classmate phoned her to inquire about an illness she was experiencing. She wrote: “I was enlightened by the way he presented himself to me. After [a] few months of learning from the missionaries, I was baptized. My life has improved since then.” We all know many whose lives would be improved by the restored gospel. Are we reaching out to them?

The first winter in the Salt Lake Valley was hard for the Smith family. Food and shelter were scarce. When summer came and the family finally had a crop, Mary insisted that they pay a full and honest tithe. In those days, tithing was often paid in goods. Mary selected her best potatoes and headed for the tithing office. When William Thompson, a tithing clerk, saw her, he questioned her need to pay tithing, because she was so poor. Mary retorted, “William, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Would you deny me a blessing? If I did not pay my tithing I should expect the Lord to withhold His blessings from me; I pay my tithing, not only because it is a law of God but because I expect a blessing by doing it.”

Mary continued to pay her tithing, whatever her circumstances. She remained independent, raising chickens, sheep, and cattle. Her faithfulness impressed her children with the importance of tithing.

One day I decided to visit my granny who lives far away in the country. She invited me over for lunch and to ride her horses. We had a wonderful afternoon together and enjoyed each other’s company. After we talked for a couple of hours, it was time for me to go. I started up my motorcycle and began my long journey home.
After two hours of driving I was in the middle of nowhere. Suddenly my motorbike ran out of gasoline. I couldn’t believe it! And my grandmother was too far away to help. I put my hand in my pocket to look for my cell phone, but it wasn’t there. I was terrified. Where could it be? I must have dropped it in the road.
I thought I had no way out of this situation. I had no idea what to do. Then suddenly I felt a voice that said: “Pray always, that you may come off conqueror” (D&C 10:5). So I decided to pray. In that moment two of my friends appeared and rescued me.

One of my friends, a successful merchant, shared with me the greatest secret of his personal success—and it’s not his selling ability. He discovered it one day when the phone rang while he was helping one customer with another waiting to be helped. The clerk said, “I think it’s your wife, Ralph.”
“Hello, Ralph,” said a voice on the other end. “How are you?”
“Fine, dear, but terribly busy. What’s wrong? Why are you calling me?”
There was a short pause. Then, unhappily Betty said, “I just wanted to hear a grown-up’s voice for a change. Sorry I bothered you when you were so busy.”
Ralph loved Betty, he said he loved her more than anything else in the world, but suddenly he realized that Betty was home with four children under the age of 5, chattering, playing, quarreling, but always needing her. She was busy too—and frustrated.
Wisely Ralph took time right then to apologize, and tell Betty how much he loved her, assure her she could call him anytime, and invite her to go out to dinner that evening with him.
Ralph’s discovery? “Since Betty is the most important person in the world to me, she also deserves first claim on my time. Since I’ve learned to give it to her, she’s happier. I’m happier, and both of us can do our jobs better.”
I’ve found through my own experience that busy men have to learn Ralph’s lesson or suffer the consequences in personal unhappiness and lower efficiency. As an obstetrician, I spent much of my professional time working with women and many of them have told me their feelings about how their husbands use time.
Bart, like Ralph, is a successful man; but his wife confided: “Bart’s gone all day and I understand that. But he might as well be gone at night too. All he does is come home, eat, and either rush off to a Church meeting or go to sleep in front of the TV. He’s really gone day and night. Maybe it’ll be different when he retires … but that’s ten years from now.”
In contrast is Ruth, whose husband, an energetic entrepreneur, had just opened another in a series of big stores. I asked, “But doesn’t this mean he’ll leave you alone much of the time? Does he ever have time for his family?”
“Al travels a lot all right,” Ruth conceded. “But when he’s home, we have such a glorious time together I don’t mind. He phones me often and he takes me or one of the children along when he can.” She looked up with an expression of enchanted anticipation. “And he’ll be back tomorrow!” Al has learned the lesson.

When I returned home from my mission, I did not struggle with pornography; I simply did not have access to it. That changed in the late 1990s, when the Internet became increasingly pervasive. I accidentally stumbled across some pornographic images online, and I returned to pornographic sites over and over again during the following months. The web had ensnared me.
I wanted to reach out to someone for help, but I wasn’t sure whom—or how. How could I talk to my parents about this? How could I admit to my bishop that even though I had made so much progress, I couldn’t stop engaging in this immoral behavior? I desperately wanted to stop, but I was too embarrassed by my weakness to confide in anyone, so I kept my addiction to myself.
I didn’t even tell my wife, whom I married in 2000. I wanted to tell her about my struggle when we were dating, but I was terrified that she would look down on me or, worse yet, refuse to marry me. So I lied. And I continued to do so in our marriage. I found myself being sneaky to prevent being caught. I hid pictures on my computer. When my wife asked me about particular Internet links, I denied knowing what she was talking about. Addictions are like that; they create great liars. I knew it was creating a wedge in our marriage and causing her great pain, but I would not acknowledge that I had a problem. What mattered most to me was not my behavior but how people perceived me.
My double life—and the resulting loss of the Spirit—made me vulnerable to increasingly serious sins, including infidelity. My wife had strong impressions that something was wrong and told me about them. With great remorse, I admitted to what I had done.
That was my lowest point, the point at which I realized that I had to change. Sitting across from me was the woman I loved. She loved me. I had betrayed her. I determined then to do whatever it took to save our relationship and our family.
I began meeting with my bishop regularly in working through the repentance process and Church discipline. He recommended I attend meetings of the addiction recovery program, offered through LDS Family Services. I had never heard of the program. I learned that the group held free, confidential meetings based on the 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous, adapted into a framework of the doctrines and principles of the Church.
I admit that during the first few meetings, I thought, “I don’t need to be here. I don’t really have a problem with pornography. I can quit any time.” That, of course, wasn’t true.
With my bishop’s encouragement, I continued to attend. My pride began to melt away, and I began to work the steps of the program: honesty, hope, trust in God, truth, confession, change of heart, humility, seeking forgiveness, restitution and reconciliation, daily accountability, personal revelation, and service. For the first time in a long time, I was living a “sober” life, a life free of pornography. Recovery isn’t ever really “over,” but I had been introduced to a new level of freedom. It came because as I participated in the 12 steps, I came to understand what was behind my addiction.
I learned that most people battling addictions have turned to some kind of “self-medication” to fill the voids they feel in their lives. Pain, sorrow, loneliness, fear, or other kinds of discomfort can act as triggers that can entice people to use this self-medication to make them feel better. Some people use prescription drugs. Others use illicit drugs. Others use alcohol. For me, pornography offered the short-term, artificial “quick fix” I thought I needed.
Knowing what triggered my addiction was one thing. Avoiding environments that aided my addiction was another. This stance requires being vigilant 24 hours a day, seven days a week for the rest of my life. I cannot get online “just to browse.” In fact, if I am by myself, I don’t go online at all. I can’t look at an ad and entertain thoughts in my mind. We don’t have cable TV in our home. When I commute to work, I avoid taking certain roads because I know there are billboards along those roads that could trigger inappropriate thoughts. If I start to slip and my mind begins to wander, I turn to my wife, to my bishop, and to prayer for strength.
My addiction affects the most minute parts of my life, but taking these precautions is worth it. I cannot neglect these defenses because I know what my addiction can do to me and to those I love.
It’s not just a matter of avoiding the bad, though. I also must make constant, conscious efforts to turn to the good. Several of the 12 steps have helped me do this by bringing me closer to God.
Every day when I wake up, I get on my knees and thank Heavenly Father for giving me the opportunity to repent of my sins and to come to Him through the Atonement of His Son, Jesus Christ. I ask Him to let me know His will so that I can do it. I ask Him to lead me away from temptation. I pray as though I rely on Heavenly Father every minute of the day—because I do—and I keep that prayer in my heart throughout the day. I pray again each night. I also spend some time in the scriptures daily so that I can focus my thoughts on virtuous things. If I don’t make these a habit, I don’t have the Spirit in my life. And left on my own, I am not strong enough to resist temptation.
For a long time I believed I could overcome my behavior anytime I wanted to by my own willpower. But I failed miserably. After a while I got tired of doing it on my own, especially when “on my own” wasn’t working. I realized that I could not do what I needed to do without the Lord’s help. Ether 12:27 helped me understand this better. The Lord told Moroni, “My grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”
Once I went to Him, still doing all I could do (see 2 Nephi 25:23), I realized that I could do much better and become much more with His help than I ever could dream of by relying on my own merits (see Alma 7:14).
My wife and I now serve as facilitators at the addiction recovery program meetings. She has learned—and is helping others understand—that the Atonement is for not only those who are working to overcome an addiction but also those who have been affected by the addiction through no choice of their own. If we turn to the Savior, His grace can work in all of our lives.
To those who are battling addiction and to the people they love, I can attest that there is hope. There is always hope in the gospel of Jesus Christ.
I am deeply grateful to Jesus Christ because He literally saved me from the chains of sin. Addiction is like being held by chains that “bind the children of men, that they are carried away captive down to the eternal gulf of misery and woe” (2 Nephi 1:13). When I realized I was in trouble, I didn’t know where to turn. I was desperate because I could not free myself from my predicament. But the Lord could free me. When I turned to Him, He was there to help.
I can relate with Ammon: “Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things” (Alma 26:12). I know that God can help us do all things, including overcoming the chains of addiction.

I first read “To Receive a Crown of Glory,” a First Presidency Message by President James E. Faust (see Liahona, Apr. 2004, 2), by myself, then we studied it in family home evening, and then we studied it again in an elders quorum meeting. At that time I was preparing to go to the temple to be sealed to my wife. When I studied President Faust’s words regarding sin and repentance, I realized that I needed to confess an old sin to my bishop. Afterward I felt the peace we are promised when we truly repent. I am grateful to the Lord for His Church and for His leaders who guide us today.Name withheld

“Another ward member who affected my life was Brother Frederick J. Pack, a professor of geology at the university and a prominent scientist. When I was about eight, I was asked to give the benediction in Sunday School. I was frightened and nervous, and I’m sure that my prayer was not very well said. But Brother Pack gave me a warm hug, saying, ‘That was an inspired prayer.’ I have never forgotten that gesture of kindness from a man whom I looked up to as a great Latter-day Saint.”

The following year I left Barranquilla, Colombia, to go to Bogotá for a month with my mother because she needed chemotherapy. During that time I prayed constantly and felt close to the Lord. I decided to change my university major, and through inspiration, I learned that the Lord wanted me to devote my life to teaching children. When I returned to school, I began working on a degree in special education.
I knew that Heavenly Father had given me my calling in Primary to prepare me. As I served, I discovered my true vocation, and as I lived the gospel and lost myself in service, I felt that I was in the Lord’s arms.