Gospel Story Finder

When Sister Anderson was a Scout leader, Jared’s class went to the planetarium at Idaho State University. They loved watching the constellations, and he still enjoys identifying many of them. Last summer Jared and his mother often put blankets on the grass and watched the stars from their front lawn.
“That is where we have had some of our best talks,” Sister Anderson says. “They are more than astronomy talks. We talk about the premortal existence and the hereafter, all under the stars. We talk about problems and how we can best face the life we have ahead of us.”

Picked at random, the following spiritual experiences speak well for the close relationship Wilford Woodruff had with his Father in heaven.
—“My missions have been by [the] Spirit of Revelation. I was told to go to the Fox Islands by that same still small voice. In the time of the great apostacy in Kirtland the Spirit of the Lord said to me, ‘Get you a partner and go to Fox Islands.’ I knew no more what was in Fox Islands then what was in Kolob. I went there, however, baptized a hundred. …”
—Once when lost in a severe storm, “groping like the blind for the wall, a bright light suddenly shone around us, and revealed to us our dangerous situation at the edge of a gulf. The light continued with us until we found the road. We then went on our way rejoicing, the darkness returned and the rain continued.”
—Another time, after he had parked his carriage for the night and had retired in it, “a voice said to me, ‘Get up, and move your carriage.’” A short while later, a big heavy tree, caught by a whirlwind, was thrown where his carriage had been parked.
—While in London as a missionary, he had a terrifying experience with a “Prince of darkness.” As he was about to overcome me I prayed to the Father, in the name of Jesus Christ, for help. I then had power over him and he left me, though I was much wounded. Afterwards, three men dressed in white came to me and prayed with me, and I was healed immediately of all my wounds, and delivered of my troubles.”
—“… two weeks before I left St. George, the spirits of the dead gathered around me, wanting to know why we did not redeem them. Said they, ‘… we laid the foundation of the government you now enjoy, and we never apostatized from it; but we remained true to it and were faithful to God.’ These were the signers of the Declaration of Independence, and they waited on me for two days and two nights. … I straightway went into the baptismal font and called upon Brother McAllister to baptize me for the signers of the Declaration of Independence and fifty other eminent men, making one hundred in all. …”

A four-year-old Brazilian girl, Mayara Fernanda Dos Santos, suffering from leukemia with oxygen going into her nose from a tube, was blessed in 1996 by Elder Claudio Costa and myself in Curitiba, Brazil. After the blessing, little Mayara smilingly wiped a tear from her anxious mother’s cheek. Instinctively wise beyond her years, Mayara knows how to “comfort those that stand in need of comfort” (Mosiah 18:9), including her precious parents.

Illustrations by Maryn Roos
I’ve got your science test scores here. Our new student, Mandy, is the only one who scored 100 percent.
If you want to make a friend, be one.
Hi. Your name’s Audrey, isn’t it? Is something wrong?
I flunked the test. And my dad says if I don’t get my grades up, I can’t have tennis lessons.
Ouch! That’s rough. Umm, listen … would you like to study together sometime? Maybe I could help.
You’d do that for me?
Sure. Why not?
Maybe you can teach me to play tennis. It looks fun.
Yeah, I think you’d really like it.

In January 2004 our family suffered the tragic loss of our grandson Nathan in an airplane crash. Nathan had served in the Russian-speaking Baltic Mission. He loved the people and knew it was a privilege to serve the Lord. Three months after I officiated at his eternal marriage to his sweetheart, Jennifer, this accident took his life. Nathan’s being taken so suddenly from our mortal presence has turned each of our hearts and minds to the Atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ. While it is impossible for me to put into words the full meaning of the Atonement of Christ, I pray that I can explain what His Atonement means to me and our family and what it might also mean to you and yours.
The Savior’s precious birth, life, Atonement in the Garden of Gethsemane, suffering on the cross, burial in Joseph’s tomb, and glorious Resurrection all became a renewed reality for us. The Savior’s Resurrection assures all of us that someday we too will follow Him and experience our own resurrection. What peace, what comfort this great gift is which comes through the loving grace of Jesus Christ, the Savior and Redeemer of all mankind. Because of Him we know we can be with Nathan again.
When I think of my grandson Nathan and how precious he is to us, I can see and feel more clearly how our Heavenly Father must feel about all of His children. We do not want God to weep because we did not do all we could to share with His children the revealed truths of the gospel. I pray that you will seek to know the blessings of the Atonement and that you will strive to be worthy to serve the Lord in the mission field. It was Jesus who said, “If … you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!” (D&C 18:15; emphasis added). Not only that, but great shall be the Lord’s joy in the soul that repenteth! For precious unto Him is the one.
Never, never underestimate how precious is the one. Remember always the simple admonition of the Lord: “If ye love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15). Always strive to live worthy of the sacred full blessings of the Atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ. In our sorrow over the separation from our dear Nathan has come the peace that only the Savior and Redeemer can give. Our family has turned to Him, one by one; and we now sing with greater appreciation and understanding:
Oh, it is wonderful that he should care for me
Enough to die for me!
Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful to me!
(“I Stand All Amazed,” Hymns, no. 193.)
May you give to others and receive for yourselves every blessing the Atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ offers.

Armed with cleaning rags, needed supplies, and lots of heart, more than 400 youth in Nampa, Idaho, set out to do some good in their community. In a citywide effort that included 20 wards and 1 branch in the 2 Nampa stakes, the youth committed a Saturday to serving. But they also spent weeks in preparation: making quilts, practicing programs, and organizing food, clothing, and toy drives. On the day of the project they did everything from stacking firewood for the elderly in their wards to filling the supply closets at shelters. Following all their service the youth got a much-deserved rest, including a testimony meeting, dinner, and a dance.

In the Owego New York Stake, members evacuated their homes, and some lived temporarily in a meetinghouse. One couple in Binghamton was rescued by a helicopter, and some in Owego were rescued by boat. Many stayed at shelters until the water receded.
Richard Miller, president of the Owego New York Stake, said that as the floods abated members were able to go in, clean up, and help the people affected.

Growing up, religion was not a part of my life. Raised in a secular environment, I chased worldly success, dedicating myself to a demanding career as a banker. I worked over 100 hours a week, sacrificing health, relationships, and personal fulfillment in pursuit of professional achievements. Outwardly, I seemed successful, but inwardly, I was empty. Stress and discouragement became constant companions, leading me to rely on alcohol and medication to numb the growing void in my life.
In February 2024, my world shattered when I was laid off amid a wave of redundancies in the banking industry. I felt worthless, as if my identity and purpose had been stripped away. Spiraling into despair, I sought solace in the very habits that were destroying me. My health deteriorated and in March 2024 I suffered a heart attack—a moment that would change my life forever.
I will never forget the events of that day. The symptoms came suddenly: cold sweats, a racing heartbeat and, eventually, unconsciousness. As I regained some awareness, I sensed a profound spiritual presence surrounding me. Confused and desperate, I called for help, only to feel lost and disoriented. Then something extraordinary happened.
When the paramedics arrived, one of them called me by name—a stranger who radiated calm and love, unlike anyone I had encountered before. The other paramedic stood in the shadows, his presence darker and less comforting. As I lay there, caught between life and death, I heard a clear voice in my mind: “I gave you the wisdom and it’s time for you to use it.” I realised I was experiencing something divine.
The first paramedic, whom I now believe was an angel, reassured me, his presence filling me with peace. I prayed earnestly, confessing my struggles and seeking repentance. Every time I mentioned the greatness of Jesus Christ, the angel smiled, his joy and love enveloping me. Meanwhile, the second paramedic growled, but the angel silenced him with a single look.
The angel asked if I wanted to “go home.” Though confused, I understood this as a spiritual call to return to the life I had been given and to change my ways. As the ambulance ascended through a dark, symbolic path, I felt my heart align with Heavenly Father’s will. The angel revealed his name as Mark, a connection that deepened my faith in the scriptures I had been studying.
After arriving at the hospital, I was diagnosed with cardiac vasospasm and pericarditis—serious conditions that could have been fatal. The doctors called my survival fortunate, but I knew it was a miracle. At that moment, I understood that Heavenly Father had intervened to guide me back to Him.
Since that day, my life has transformed. I have committed myself to living according to God’s commandments and have found peace and purpose in the gospel. I now know that Heavenly Father’s love is infinite, His patience unending, and His guidance constant.
To anyone struggling with feelings of despair or unworthiness, I testify that Heavenly Father never gives up on His children. His mercy and grace are always within reach and through repentance and faith, we can find our way home to Him.

Last year, I decided to make a goal of saying my prayers every night. For a couple of nights, it was hard to remember to do it. Then I decided that I needed help to remember to say my prayers. So I prayed to Heavenly Father and told Him about my goal. I asked if He would help me remember to do it each night. And it worked! If I forgot and got into bed without praying, I felt like something was wrong or something was missing. The Holy Ghost helped me every night to reach my goal. My mom and dad were surprised and happy to find out about what I had accomplished. We had a family home evening about goals, and now everyone in my family is working on something!Jackson Barney, age 9Orem, Utah

As a freshman in college, I was often disappointed with my classmates. That’s because many of them would cheat during exams. Some would sneak their notes into class. Some would text test answers to others. A few would even copy off the exams of their classmates.
Those who cheated always got higher scores than I did. Nevertheless, I was not tempted to join them. I always put into my mind and heart that it’s better to have an honest 0 percent than a stolen 100 percent.
If I cheated, I wouldn’t be setting an example for them. I wouldn’t be living in a way that I could share the gospel of Jesus Christ with them. I wouldn’t be showing them that the Church is true.
One afternoon I went to the college cashier office to ask about my remaining tuition balance. I had to pay all my fees before I could take final exams the following week. As I was walking, I worried about where I would get the money I needed. For a self-supporting student like me, finances were tight.
When I reached the office, I asked the cashier how much I still owed.
“You pay no more until you graduate,” she said.
Shocked, I asked her if she was sure or if she was pulling a prank.
“Yes, I’m sure, and I’m serious,” she said. “The guidance counselor processed an application for you to get a scholarship from a senator. You are now a scholar.”
Hearing those words made me very happy. I thanked her and ran to the guidance counselor’s office to thank the person responsible.
“You don’t have to thank me,” the counselor said after I told her how thankful and happy I was. “I was only an instrument.”
As I left, I remembered the scripture I always love to share: “And blessed is he that is found faithful unto my name at the last day, for he shall be lifted up to dwell in the kingdom prepared for him from the foundation of the world. And behold it is I [Jesus Christ] that hath spoken it” (Ether 4:19).
By doing right, I had shown my faithfulness in keeping the commandments of our Heavenly Father—even in a situation where dishonesty was common. I know that by standing firm in my faith, He will never leave me.
I am happy that I can now study with no payments to worry about. I’m also encouraged to continue doing what’s right, not because of the rewards and blessings I could receive but because I love Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, who set an example for me.

I once read a book about a pioneer girl who traveled across the plains with a Mormon wagon train. All she could take with her were a few articles of clothing and her special box of small treasures. Her many dolls and toys she had to leave behind. Included in her special box were some material scraps, a packet of precious needles, several buttons, and two spools of thread.
The girl was very brave and very clever. She knew it didn’t matter that she had to leave her dolls behind, because she could always make some new, even better ones, if she had the materials. She and her family finally arrived safely in Utah. When the girl wasn’t helping her mother and father, she started making her own toys in her spare time.
Her story started me thinking. I’ve always liked to sew, and I love stuffed toys like rag dolls and stocking animals. So I decided to make some toys like the pioneer girl did. I found a special box to keep my materials in like this …
Mom gave me some of her fabric scraps and some thread and needles to put into my box.
First I drew some animals—elephants, bears, cows, monkeys, even some pretend animals.
Then I put a star by the ones I liked best and drew them again. I made the animals more simple and kept in mind that I was going to make them into toys. I colored each one in to look like a fabric design and drew button eyes and yarn hair. I wonder if the pioneer girl did the same. One of my drawings looked like this …
Next I drew a grid on some tissue paper my mom had and laid it over the drawing like this …
Then I drew a bigger grid on some paper. Looking at the small drawing with the small grid over it, I redrew my picture onto the big grid, matching square to square like this …
When I was finished with the larger drawing, I pinned it onto some fabric, with the right sides folded together, and cut it out. I took off the pattern, then pinned the cloth together around the edges. My mom helped me machine stitch it together, but she said the pioneer girl would have stitched it by hand. We left some of it unstitched so it could be turned right side out.
Then I pushed some cotton stuffing into the animal, working it into all the corners to make it nice and even. Finally I pinned up the hole and stitched it together by hand.
I didn’t need a pattern for the face so I just used my scissors and cut it out of different scraps. I sewed the button eyes on the face before I stitched it down.
Mom said it would be easier that way. Then I pinned the face in place and stitched it down, like this …
All the time I was making my animal, I was thinking of other things to make—cows with horns, lions with yarn hair, butterflies trimmed with lace wings, long tubes for monkey arms and legs, even dishcloth ears for an elephant.
With a little patience I figured out how to make all kinds of animals. I even made Noah and his wife, and an ark for them to sail in. I wonder if that pioneer girl had plans like that!
Now why don’t you see what kinds of animals and dolls you can make for yourself or as gifts for friends and family?

They are the grandchildren and great-grandchildren of 95-year-old Arthur W. Andersen and his wife Clara, from Provo, Utah. They all began coming to the library in 1972 when Arthur’s oldest daughter, Lyona, had what she considered an inspired idea. For years Lyona had taken upon herself the responsibility for continuing genealogical research for the Andersen family. She had obtained funds from family members (all 15 of Arthur’s children) and had hired professional researchers to help her carry on the work.
One day the thought came to her, “Why not organize things so that all the young cousins in the area can join in and assist us in this important work?” She approached her researcher specializing in English records, Wilma Adkins, and asked if she would be willing to delegate work and supervise all the youth in doing research. Wilma willingly agreed, and since that time the Andersen family has held monthly workshops.
These workshops give many teenagers and adults in the family the opportunity to actually do firsthand research in the Salt Lake Genealogical Library. They have become familiar with how to operate the microfilm machines and how to track down the various microfilms they need. They have struggled over the elaborate and often foreign-looking handwriting contained in these records. And perhaps most important of all, they have felt the joy that comes from discovering a name that others have hunted for for hours, weeks, and sometimes even years.
Lyona recalls an incident with a young cousin, not yet in his teens, who was faithfully poring over census records for a name Wilma had given him. All of a sudden he jumped up and ran to Aunt Lyona, excitement mirrored in his face. “Come look,” he said. “Is this really the name I was looking for?” Lyona quickly conferred with Wilma. It was the very name Wilma had unsuccessfully been seeking for a long time.
Many hugs and congratulations followed, as Wilma and Lyona took special pains to praise and thank him for his unexpected discovery.
Other researchers in the library on these Saturdays, if they took the time to eavesdrop, would hear such boastful comments as, “Hey, Nina, just think! Because of me, John and Mary Stafford can get married in the temple and be sealed for all eternity! What if I hadn’t come today and had gone swimming instead?” Or, “Wilma told me I can read that awful handwriting as well as the people who work here!”
Since 1972, 70 members of the Andersen family have participated at one time or another in these genealogy workshops. Ages range from eight years to 95, the majority in their teens. The 95-year-old helper is Grandpa Andersen himself. Although he can’t actually search (because of failing eyesight), he often shows up, nonetheless, with his wife Clara. Their enthusiastic spirits and encouraging words make their presence as valuable as though they were doing the research themselves. Their grandchildren know how important they consider this work and how pleased they are with each person’s effort.
Through these Saturday workshops, the Andersen family has truly taken seriously the admonitions to do genealogical research. And they are busily engaged in turning “the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers.” (Mal. 4:6.)

Name: Jackson
Location: South Carolina, USA
Goal: Long-term: Own a food truck some day; short-term: Learn about making food
“I told one of my Young Men leaders about a goal I had to have a food truck. He said, ‘Every year I do a back-to-school party. Why don’t you come cook for us?’ So I did. I made about 50 hot dogs and burgers in 45 minutes. I loved being with the guys in my quorum, and I got awesome feedback from the experience and some compliments. And I learned a lot.”

When I joined the Church in 1973, the doctrine of the redemption of the dead penetrated deep into my heart. As a new member of the Church, I made a commitment to do the vicarious work for my ancestors who had died without knowledge of the gospel.
At that time I lived in Madrid, Spain, about 500 kilometers from Asturias, the little place where I was born—and where, supposedly, the greater part of my ancestors’ records were located. I used many vacations and weekends looking for these records, traveling hundreds of kilometers. Sometimes I would lock myself up for entire days in the parish offices of Catholic churches, surrounded by old, and often illegible, records.
The love I felt for my ancestors helped me overcome these inconveniences. I brushed off the dirt, mended the torn books and pages, and learned to read the many, many books that came into my hands. With the help of these parish records, as well as civil records, family records, wills, newspapers, and photographs, I began to put together a picture of my ancestors’ lives. I came to know them to some extent and to rejoice in their happiness and mourn with them in their sorrows.
But the time came when it seemed I could do no more. Too many records had been destroyed. Asturias has been one of the most embattled areas in Spain’s history, and many records had been destroyed in its conflicts. I tried to go on using family sources but met with little success.
Sometimes I was discouraged when I thought of how easy it was for some people to do family history research. I read miraculous accounts in the Liahona of others finding needed information. Why couldn’t that happen to me? The records I needed had to be somewhere.
In 1994 I decided that I would vacation in a certain area and visit the parishes there one more time. As usual, after I had finished searching, I was in exactly the same place where I had begun. I felt quite discouraged. I had used up my vacations for 20 years, had traveled thousands of kilometers, had searched through mountains of books, had spoken with hundreds of people, and had spent a great deal of money. But for what?
My wife and I packed our suitcases to return to Madrid. Then at the last moment, I decided to make one more attempt. I returned again to one of the churches I had visited so many times before.
But this time, as I was looking in a certain record, the very names and dates that I needed suddenly appeared right before my eyes! My legs went weak, and a great cry of joy came out of my mouth. Tears rushed to my eyes, blinding me.
I hadn’t found the information on any of my previous attempts because the names were incorrectly registered. But once discovered, this precious record even referred me to other records that had not been destroyed in war—records that I never knew existed. Now the temple work could be done for these ancestors!
I was able to return to Madrid feeling extremely blessed. Like Nephi, I know that our Father in Heaven loves us and that he never gives us a commandment without preparing the way for us to carry it out.

Angie didn’t want to go to school. She liked her teacher, Mr. Miles. She liked the third-grade reading, and she sort of liked math. What she didn’t like was lunchtime.
“You’re crazy,” her sixth-grade brother, Mike, said. “Lunch and recess are the best parts of school.”
“Who do you eat with?” Angie asked.
“Joe, Jerry, Bob, or whoever’s around. Then we play football or soccer.” He pushed back his chair, grabbed his football, and started for the door.
“Don’t forget your lunch,” Mother called.
Mike came back, grabbed his lunch sack, and darted out the door.
“Finish your breakfast, Angie. You don’t want to be late,” Mother urged.
Angie poked at her egg. Her stomach knotted, and her throat felt dry. Who will I eat with today? she wondered. Aloud, she said, “I feel sick.”
Her mother felt Angie’s forehead. “You don’t have a temperature. Are you worried about whom you’ll eat lunch with?”
Angie nodded.
“Why don’t you call Mary?”
“I did. She’s playing with Shannon after school, so they’re eating together today.”
“Why can’t you eat with them? Is there some law that says only two people can eat together?” her mother kidded.
“No. But I just can’t.” How could she explain to her mother that all the girls in the third grade ate in pairs. Angie felt funny about asking other girls to eat with her. What if they were going to eat with someone else? Or what if they said no?
Angie sighed. Maybe her mother would let her come home for lunch. Sometimes she did. But before she could ask, her mother handed her a brown paper sack with Angie written in purple crayon across it. “Here’s your lunch, honey. I’m playing tennis today, otherwise I’d let you come home for lunch.” She hugged Angie. “If you’re really upset about eating alone, why don’t you eat with Mike?”
“Are you kidding!” Angie wailed. “He wouldn’t like that and neither would his friends.”
At school Angie tried not to think about lunch. But all the other girls in her class seemed busy doing something with a partner. Mary and Shannon were cleaning the hamster cage together. Judy and Susan sat side by side, whispering. Pat and Ashley were working on a picture for the bulletin board. It wasn’t like last year when all the girls did things together. Angie could feel tears prickling her eyes. Maybe she should go to the office and say that she didn’t feel well. The nurse would call her mother, and Angie could go home. No, Mom has a tennis game, Angie remembered, and won’t be there.
Mr. Miles told the class to close their math books and take a surprise quiz. When they were finished, he had them trade papers and correct them while he read off the answers. Lisa handed back Angie’s paper and gave her a friendly smile. “You didn’t miss any, Angie,” she said.
Angie had corrected Lisa’s paper. Lisa had missed five problems because she’d forgotten to carry the number from the first column to the second.
“Oh, thanks, Angie,” Lisa said gratefully when Angie pointed out what she was doing wrong. But she didn’t invite Angie to eat lunch with her.
When the lunch bell rang, Angie walked slowly to the cupboard and took out her lunch. Everywhere she looked on the playground, girls were eating together in twos. Just the boys were jammed together at the picnic tables. She saw Mike at one table surrounded by boys. He sure is lucky, Angie thought. She walked over to the side of the building and sat down on the cement, feeling very left out and alone. She looked up at the cloudless blue sky. Maybe it would rain a lot this winter. When it rained, everyone ate in the classroom together.
Angie pulled out her tuna sandwich. Inside the sandwich bag was a note:
“Dear Angie,
“Look around the playground until you find a girl eating by herself. Go over and ask if you can eat with her. I dare you!
“Love, Mom”
Angie looked around. She saw a girl sitting over by the maple tree. A girl in a pink sweater sat on a redwood bench. And another girl stood by the library door. They were eating alone, just as she was. She’d been so worried about herself that she hadn’t noticed them.
Angie knew the girl standing by the library slightly, so she picked up her lunch and walked over. “Hi, may I eat with you?”
The girl looked up and gave Angie a shy smile. “Sure, I’d like to eat lunch with some one.”
Angie knew exactly what she meant. “Great!” Angie said with a big smile. “Let’s go see if that girl sitting on the bench wants to eat with us too.”

In 1989, Elder Haight became critically ill and was rushed to the hospital. He reported in the October 1989 general conference that while unconscious, he found himself “in a calm, peaceful setting … conscious of two persons in the distance on a hillside. …

“I heard no voices but was conscious of being in a holy presence and atmosphere. During the hours and days that followed, there was impressed again and again upon my mind the eternal mission and exalted position of the Son of Man. I witness to you that He is Jesus the Christ, the Son of God, Savior to all, Redeemer of all mankind, Bestower of infinite love, mercy, and forgiveness, the Light and Life of the world. I knew this truth before—I had never doubted nor wondered. But now I knew, because of the impressions of the Spirit upon my heart and soul, these divine truths in a most unusual way” (Ensign, November 1989, 59–60).

Many years ago a fire destroyed a family’s house. A neighbor tried to comfort the family’s seven-year-old boy by saying, “Johnny, it’s too bad your home burned down.” Johnny thought for a moment and said, “Oh, that was not our home; that was just our house. We still have our home; we just don’t have any place to put it right now.” Johnny knew that the fire had not destroyed his family and their kind feelings for one another.

A few days later the missionaries came to my uncle’s door. When I saw them I told them to go away. But one of them said, “We have a great message for you. A boy just like you saw your Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.” I couldn’t resist because I had been praying and seeking Heavenly Father just a few days before. So I said, “You can have 10 minutes. Come in.”
The missionaries taught me the beautiful and sacred story of Joseph Smith. And I was touched. I really felt the power of the Spirit. The missionaries asked me to pray and ask Heavenly Father if their message was true, and then they taught me how to pray. I prayed that evening. Even now I remember exactly how I felt that day.
I asked the missionaries to come back almost every day after that. I believed what they taught me. I believed that Joseph Smith saw Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ in the Sacred Grove. But before I could be baptized, I needed to get permission from my mother. I called her and said, “Mother, I’ve found a wonderful church. I need to get your permission to join.”
She said, “No. I lost my husband; I don’t want to lose my son.” She was afraid that if I joined the Church I would leave her.
I said, “I’m not going anywhere.” And then she hung up.
The missionaries fasted and prayed for me, and I did too. I called her again and said, “Please don’t hang up on me until I’ve really explained it.” She suggested that I study more and take some more time to decide. But I felt strongly that now was the time I should be baptized.
Finally she told me, “Son, if you are going to quit right in the middle, don’t do it. But if you will stay with it all the way through, then you have my permission.” That caused me to always take my membership in the Church very seriously.

The story is told of a 14-year-old boy who had come to Nauvoo in search of his brother who lived near there. The young boy had arrived in winter with no money and no friends. When he inquired about his brother, the boy was taken to a large house that looked like a hotel. There he met a man who said, “Come in, son, we’ll take care of you.”
The boy accepted and was brought into the house, where he was fed, warmed, and given a bed to sleep in.
The next day it was bitter cold, but in spite of that, the boy prepared himself to walk the eight miles to where his brother was staying.
When the man of the house saw this, he told the young boy to stay for a while. He said there would be a team coming soon and that he could ride back with them.
When the boy protested, saying that he had no money, the man told him not to worry about that, that they would take care of him.
Later the boy learned that the man of the house was none other than Joseph Smith, the Mormon prophet. This boy remembered this act of charity for the rest of his life.2

There is peace in Christ
When we learn of Him.
Feel the love He felt for us
When He bore our sins.1
Those are a few of the lyrics from the song “Peace in Christ,” which I played consistently in my home for a full year after my divorce.
My kids may have tired of me playing the same song over and over, but it helped bring me peace through the trials that the four of them and I have endured recently.
“Divorced single mother” is a title I never wished to receive. But life doesn’t always turn out the way you expect, even when you are trying to keep the commandments.
After 16 years of marriage, my husband and I got divorced. I was completely distraught and had to push away thoughts of devastation and worthlessness every morning as I awoke to my new reality. I often wondered if I could have done something differently to avoid this overwhelming course my life had taken.
Because we had moved from Arizona to Idaho several years ago, I had no family nearby to love and support us. I often felt completely and utterly alone in my sorrow.
But I wasn’t alone. The Savior Jesus Christ was with me, even in my darkest days and nights. His face showed through the faces of my ward family. My bishop and his sweet wife met with me and were there the night I realized my husband and I would be getting divorced. They were heartbroken for me and for my children.
My bishop continued to call and check on me in the difficult months that followed that night.
Brother and Sister John ministered to me and my children in so many ways. They have been an example of Christlike love.
My ministering brother had been with us since we first moved to Idaho. He made many efforts to befriend my then-husband. Not only did this good brother visit us monthly, but he also called or texted to offer his assistance when I stubbornly told him I didn’t need anything.
After my separation, he and his wife became ministering partners, and they lovingly, and without judgment, met with me often. They invited us to sit with them at the local Independence Day parade and to join their extended family at a barbecue.
Our ministering brother found out my children’s favorite characters and carved them into plastic pumpkins for Halloween. They have helped us string Christmas lights, prepare our home for winter, spray our weeds, answer the children’s questions about electronics, and dig my van out of the snow. They brought me the softest blanket as a Christmas gift, which has comforted me many nights when I’ve been lonely and uncertain of what life would bring.
But the most important act of service was the many priesthood blessings this kind brother bestowed upon me and my children. He truly was an example of the scripture, “They did watch over their people, and did nourish them with things pertaining to righteousness” (Mosiah 23:18). So many times, when my anxiety felt like it had reached its peak, he and his wife would come over to talk with me, and the conversation would end with my receiving a priesthood blessing.
He gave my children priesthood blessings before the school year started. He participated in my daughter’s confirmation. This loving couple’s generosity has been an example of Christ’s love for me and my kids.
My friendship with my Relief Society president (second from right) and other sisters in Relief Society has become one of the most amazing blessings in my life.
I also saw Christ in the face of my angelic Relief Society president. As soon as she heard I was struggling, she took me to lunch and let me spill my emotions and found ways to relate to me with her own life experiences. She texts me often to make sure my children and I are OK. She and two other women in my ward began inviting me to dinner, to go on walks, and to attend the temple with them. They’ve helped steam-clean my carpets and paint rooms. One of them taught me to dye and cut my own hair so that I could be more self-sufficient. The four of us have created a bond and friendship I never knew was possible during such a difficult trial. Their friendship has become one of the most amazing blessings in my life.
As Sister Elaine S. Dalton, former Young Women General President, said, “Your righteous influence and friendship can have an eternal effect not only on the lives of your associates but also on generations to come.”2 These ladies have made a profound impact not only on my life but on the lives of my children as well; they buoy me up and give me the strength to remain the mother my children need me to be.
Our bishop regularly checked on me and my children.
Though the bishop, ministering couple, and Relief Society president were called to serve our family, it never felt like we were an assignment. And so many others, who had no obligation whatsoever, have shown love to our family.
Two anonymous parties delivered gifts to my children at Christmas. The young men have done yard work, a ward member changed the locks on my doors, and a few others helped with my computer. We’ve received coupons to the pool, been treated to fun at a local water park, and been invited to numerous dinners and movie nights where we could relax with friends and be ourselves.
One sister, while babysitting my children, took them to the store to choose birthday presents to give to me. Another sister did the same with my children at Christmastime.
We’ve also received flowers or treats from people even when there hasn’t been a special occasion; they just wanted me to know I’m loved, thought about, and cared for.
I can testify that what President Jean Bingham, Relief Society General President, says is true: “Sometimes we think we have to do something grand and heroic to ‘count’ as serving our neighbors. Yet simple acts of service can have profound effects on others.”3
Even a small gesture helps me know that Christ hasn’t left me alone to deal with the unpredictability my life has become.
Photograph of simulated Bible scene by Welden C. Andersen
There is peace in Christ. When we sincerely and selflessly care for those around us who are struggling with major life challenges, we really can help them feel the unwavering love and peace of our Savior, Jesus Christ.
I know my Heavenly Father has blessed me and my little family as we made the trek away from family in Arizona to live among strangers in Idaho. Those strangers have become like family. Their Christlike love and examples have helped to keep us strong and where we need to be.
My children and I are eager to serve after seeing how much service impacted our lives. We are living testimonies of what can happen when disciples of Christ follow the pattern of ministering taught in Moroni 6:4: “Their names were taken, that they might be remembered and nourished by the good word of God, to keep them in the right way, to keep them continually watchful unto prayer, relying alone upon the merits of Christ, who was the author and the finisher of their faith.”
I am grateful for my ward family, who remembered and nourished us so that we could keep our hearts turned to the Savior.