Gospel Story Finder

One day in Nauvoo, the Prophet Joseph Smith was in the yard, playing with his children Joseph and Frederick. A gentlemen in a carriage drove up to the gate, looking for him. Greeting the Prophet, the man drove his horse and carriage up to a tie post, but did not tie the horse up. Leaving the lines lying loose, he got out of his carriage and came up the steps of the house.
“Mister,” Joseph said, “I think you would do well to tie your horse; he might get a scare and run away and break your carriage.”
The gentleman, thinking he knew best, responded, “I have driven that horse for some years and never tie him. I am a doctor and cannot afford to tie him up at every place I call.”
Joseph persisted. “You had better tie him all the same. Your horse might get a scare and run away.”
The doctor told Joseph not to worry, that there would be no problems with his horse.
Entering the house, the men sat down to talk.
Within moments, the horse became startled. It bolted down the street, towing behind it the carriage. A wheel struck against a post, and pieces of the carriage were scattered for a block or more.
The doctor rushed to the street and saw the trail left by the frightened horse. He turned to Joseph and said, “I’ll be … if you aren’t a prophet.”3

The next morning, the Columbia Ward did go on the welfare assignment and spent the whole morning canning green beans. “We had done 1,050 cans when I lost count,” said Tre Pennington.

It was a lot of work. It left you feeling like you never wanted to see anything green again. But it did give everyone a chance to work together. And while they worked, they answered questions about life as a Latter-day Saint, about life in the Church.

“When the missionaries were teaching me, I knew right away that it was true. I didn’t have any doubt. My dad got baptized; then I got baptized the next Saturday,” said Stephanie Rawlins. “I enjoy being in the church I know is true. Friends I have who aren’t members can’t talk the same way. They don’t understand. With my friends in the Church I can open up; I can talk about things that are really important.”

“I’ve thought many times about what it means to have the priesthood,” said David Dawson, 16. “It means I’m more than just somebody on the street. I know where I can be in the eternities. Holding the priesthood is like being with God every day. It’s a great feeling if you live right.”

“Most of my nonmember friends go to their own churches,” Jason Sawyer said. “If you talk about religion to them, they look at you funny. But when I tell them our religion says we have the right to hold an office in the priesthood, they think that’s quite an honor.”

Jason also talked a little bit about what it’s like to be the stepson of a bishop who makes doughnuts for a living. “He gets up early to start baking, then sleeps in the middle of the day. A lot of times he’s gone doing church work. But he loves us, and he tries to be there when we need him. Besides, we always have plenty of refreshments!”

“That does it!” Melissa said, setting the last can of beans in a cardboard box. “I’m tired, but I’m not so tired that I couldn’t eat breakfast. Where’s a McDonald’s?”

Janie Sigoda stared at the strange hat and bright red notebook on the table. She was still wondering what they were for when her father started the family home evening lesson.
“Did you know,” he asked the family, “that the Nephites kept records but that they didn’t always remember to write all the important things that happened to them?”
Janie forgot about the hat and notebook and raised her hand. “Yes, Dad,” she said, “in Primary Sister Lind said that Jesus asked the Nephites why parts of the story of Samuel the Lamanite hadn’t been recorded.”
“It sounds like you already know the story,” Dad said with a smile. “Can you find it too?”
Janie opened the family copy of the Book of Mormon and searched through Third Nephi. “Here it is!”
Her father began reading while Mom held the baby. Janie and her brother, Chris, sat by Dad in his big chair so that they could read together the Savior’s words about Samuel the Lamanite.
“You see,” he finished, closing the book and looking at each of them, “keeping records is very important to the Savior.”
Janie’s eyes went back to the notebook, and even before her father spoke again, she guessed what he would say.
“Do you all see this red notebook?” Dad held it high, and the baby tried to reach and grab it. “This isn’t just any old notebook,” he went on. “It’s a special reporter’s notebook. We don’t want to miss great stories in our family record either.”
He picked up the funny hat and stuck a card with Family Reporter printed on it into the hatband. “Each month someone gets to be the Sigoda family reporter. Who will be it first—Mom, Chris, me, or Janie?”
“Oh, please let it be me,” Janie begged.
Dad winked at Mom, then smiled at Janie. Pulling her close, he put the hat on her head and handed her the bright red notebook. “Here’s your equipment, Miss Sigoda. Next month you can read your report of our family stories to us.”
The month passed with lots of stories to write. One Sunday they visited Grandma, and Janie made sure that she wore her reporter’s hat and carried her notebook. Grandma always had great stories. “Tell me something about Dad when he was a boy,” Janie asked her privately after dinner.
“Oh, your dad!” Grandma laughed. “I remember the time our bishop asked the congregation to raise their hands if they wanted a new parking lot. Every person there but one raised his hand to vote yes. Then, when the bishop asked if anyone was against the new lot, your dad raised his hand high and called out, ‘I am, bishop. If you put in a parking lot, we won’t have anyplace to play basketball.’ The rest of the congregation laughed for ten minutes!”
That was a good story to report, but the best one Janie wrote was of when Chris was baptized. She worked hard to get all the details exactly right for the family records. She made sure to include the facts that Dad baptized Chris and that both grandfathers were witnesses to the baptism. And she carefully wrote down each word of Chris’s testimony after he was confirmed: “I want to thank Mom and Dad and my sisters for all that they teach me,” he said. “I know that this church is true and that Heavenly Father and Jesus love me.”
The month ended too soon for Janie. She read her stories on family night, wearing her reporter’s hat. She especially liked watching her brother’s big smile when she finished by reading all about his baptism.
“Janie,” Mom said, “Dad and I are proud of you, and I know that Heavenly Father and Jesus are too.” Dad gave her a big hug, then said, “You’re the last person to hold the family record, and like the prophets in the Book of Mormon, you get to pick who keeps the record next. So, who will it be?”
Janie looked first at her mom, then at her dad, then at Chris. She could see his eyes shining just as hers had shone the month before. “Chris,” she said, “I give the record to you.” She handed the hat and precious red notebook to him. As Chris jumped up and down and put the reporter’s hat on, Janie smiled. She knew how he felt—being a family reporter was great.

One of our grandsons, when he was five years old, became confused when his family moved into a new ward. He thought the meetings were over and went outside. When he realized he was alone and could not find the family or their car, he knelt down and prayed for help. Just a few minutes later, one of the counselors in the Primary presidency came out and asked him if he was lost. A Primary teacher had called to her from the door of a classroom and said that someone was missing. The teacher asked the counselor to find out who it was. The counselor felt impressed to look outside and went straight to our grandson. Later, the teacher and counselor both commented on how strong their impressions were that he needed help. We were thankful that his parents and Primary teachers had taught him that Heavenly Father loves him and had taught him to always pray for help.

Every Thursday the people in Winter Quarters gathered at the little log cabin that was used as a post office. Their independent mail service had been established by Brigham Young to serve the Saints living in Nauvoo, Garden Grove, Mt. Pisgah, Council Bluffs, and Winter Quarters. Each week a man brought this mail over a private route to Winter Quarters.
On Thursday, Tommy and Betsy, with their mother and Eliza and Elija, were waiting with the crowd for the mail. As Brother Clayton read off the names of those who had letters, Tommy heard his name called. He couldn’t believe his ears! It was the first time in his life he had received any mail. His trembling fingers tore open the envelope. He was so excited, he could hardly read the letter, which was from his friend Joseph, who was still in Nauvoo.
Dear Tommy,
At last we are leaving. We finally sold our house and land for enough money to get a wagon and some supplies. We will cross the Mississippi River tomorrow.
Nauvoo has not been a happy place since you left. Some of the brethren went outside the city limits to harvest their grain. They were captured by a mob and beaten with hickory goads. No one is safe!
Most of the people have crossed the river by now, but they are still camped on the flats because they can’t go on to Winter Quarters. Many of these people are elderly or sick. Some of them do not have provisions. Mother says she hopes that help will come for them.
I will be very glad to see you in a few weeks. We plan to leave immediately for Winter Quarters after we cross the river. Mother says that maybe we can go to school when we get there. I will be glad if we can.
Your friend, Joseph
That night when their chores were done, Elija and Tommy sat talking with Tommy’s mother. “I’ve been thinking about those people who have been driven across the river from Nauvoo. I wish I could do something to help them,” Tommy said.
“Brigham Young will certainly find a way to help them,” his mother answered. “But right now it is time for you to get to bed.”
The next day, while Tommy and Elija were herding their cattle, they saw Betsy and Eliza running toward them. “Is something the matter?” called Tommy.
“No,” answered Eliza. “We have a message for you from Brigham Young. He wants to see both of you in his cabin right away.”
“Why does he want to see us?” asked Elija.
“I don’t know,” Eliza replied, “but Betsy and I will watch the cattle while you find out.”
When Tommy and Elija arrived at Brigham Young’s cabin, Tommy’s mother was there waiting for them. Brigham Young spoke as they entered. “Boys,” he said, “I want each of you to take a wagon to the poor camp on this side of the river from Nauvoo. Some of the Saints there have been driven from their homes and are greatly in need of food, clothing, and shelter. Bring them to Winter Quarters. You are young for so great a task, but I know you will do it well. Brother Allen will have charge of the wagon train, and you will be under his direction. There will be about twenty wagons. You will leave in the morning.”
Tommy’s mother looked at the two boys. “The girls and I will be all right here,” she smiled.
The long trip to Nauvoo was pleasant. As the boys neared the river, Tommy noticed that the sky had darkened, and he heard the sound of rushing wings. Then they saw thousands of quail flying overhead. Many of the birds settled down on the wagon covers, on the wagon seats, and on the heads and arms of the drivers.
When those in the wagon train entered the camp, they found quail on the ground, in the air, in the tents, and on the people. The birds did not move when touched. Even the sick could reach out and catch one without the quail offering any resistance. The joy of the people was boundless.
“It’s a blessing from heaven,” said one of the men from the camp. “The people here were starving, and the Lord has sent them food.”
Suddenly Tommy remembered hearing how the Lord had sent quail to the children of Israel who wandered in the wilderness long ago.
Just then Joseph came running up. He and Tommy threw their arms around each other in greeting. It was good to be together again, and good to know that all the people around them had food. “It’s a miracle!” Joseph exclaimed, and Tommy nodded in agreement.

I had recently gotten divorced from my husband and still had an unhealthy relationship with him. I had also just given birth to a baby girl, but after praying and pondering about my unique circumstances, I made the difficult decision to put her up for adoption because I felt like I wouldn’t be able to raise and support her on my own.
Grieving the loss of my marriage and baby girl at the same time was almost unbearable. I believed in eternal families, but my divorce and adoption placements were final, and there was no hope of being a family with these two people in the eternities. The pain felt truly overwhelming.
As for the grief I experienced after placing my baby girl for adoption, I’ve learned that Jesus Christ can truly heal us from anything when we rely on Him. That was one of the most heart-wrenching experiences of my life, but the Savior healed my heart as I immersed myself in studying His gospel. When the grief was hard, I would ask myself, “Do I trust that Heavenly Father wants me to be happy eternally?” And my answer would always be yes!
I always held on to hope and faith, and the truth stated in Doctrine and Covenants 122:7, that “all these things shall … be for [our] good,” has been my reality. As I have relied on Christ and Heavenly Father during deep challenges, I have learned and grown so much. And I’m grateful to know that the girl I placed for adoption is happy, successful, and part of a wonderful eternal family.

One young man started by working on diligence.
“I wanted to develop more Christlike attributes, so I studied my scriptures and Preach My Gospel. In chapter 6 of Preach My Gospel, I found a suggested pattern for developing Christlike attributes and decided to try it with the quality of diligence. First I wrote down my own definition of diligence and the questions I had about it. Then I went through the suggested scriptures on diligence and recorded my impressions and answers I found as I read. Afterwards I set a goal to be more diligent with my schoolwork and have found myself feeling more motivated and consistent as I pray each night for diligence.”

Thomas hoed a stubborn weed out of the corn as the sun beat down on his back. Wiping the sweat from his face, he lifted his eyes longingly to the cool mountains. How he wished he was in the whispery shade of the trees there!
He loved the rustle of the white pines and the cool breezes that created soothing music among their branches. He loved the smell of the fresh wind filtering through the pines. Those ancient trees standing straight and tall seemed to him like soldiers on guard.
How he loved it when it was time to head for the hills! Every fall they took their team up to the mountains to cut firewood. He knew that they needed the wood to keep their family warm, yet every time one of those giant pines fell, he hurt inside. He felt a reverence for them. They had lived so long. They were so tall and straight.
When they brought the wood down to their farm, they sawed and chopped the logs into firewood. Thomas had a natural love for good wood and saved any exceptionally nice pieces. Then, during cold, snowy, winter days, he carefully sawed, carved, and fitted wood pieces together to make fine furniture. He loved the feel of this good wood in his hands.
Thomas remembered Grandfather Heiler. He, too, had a feel for wood. Before he had left Germany, Grandfather was a master cabinetmaker. He had planned to teach Thomas his craft but died in Winter Quarters before he could teach the boy much. Crossing the prairies was not a good place to learn woodworking. Still, it made Thomas feel good to turn this beautiful white pine wood into pieces of furniture that his grateful mother lovingly polished.
Returning to his hoeing, he stopped dreaming of cool pine forests. It wasn’t likely that he’d get up to the mountains for weeks. There was too much to do here. Even craftsmen had to delay their work to grow crops. There were no stores to buy food at in this pioneer land. His family must grow what they ate, and they worked hard to get it.
As he hoed, he spotted a carriage pulling up to their home. He watched as their neighbor, Brother Erickson, got out. Ether, Thomas’s little brother, ran to the fields to fetch his father. What was happening? What would bring a neighbor out during farming season on a Tuesday morning?
Thomas kept one eye on his hoeing and one eye on the house. When his father came in from the field and greeted Brother Erickson, Thomas worked his way closer to hear their conversation.
“The word is out that Brother Brigham [President Brigham Young] is looking for some fine wood to help build an organ for the new tabernacle,” Brother Erickson told Father. “I thought you’d like to know that.”
“Yes,” Father said slowly. “That’s interesting. But what has it to do with me?”
Brother Erickson pointed to their cabin. “Just look at those logs. The finest logs I’ve seen anywhere. They’re long and smooth, and there is not a knothole in the whole of it!”
“That’s true,” Father said. “Those logs made a snug cabin for us. Are you thinking we should let Brother Brigham know about the pine we have around here? It’s over three hundred miles to Salt Lake City! Couldn’t they find some closer?”
“Brother Robert Gardner and his son William have been traveling all over the territory, searching out good wood. Brother Brigham charged them with that responsibility. I don’t think the distance would be a problem if the wood was good.”
Father nodded. “Pine Valley would be proud to help with the furnishing of that great building. Let’s do it! Let’s send a piece of one of our very best logs.”
Over the next weeks, several men from the valley gathered at their cabin to help select and cut just the right wood to send to Salt Lake City.
Thomas wished that he could be the one to take the wood there. He ran his hand over the smooth surface of the pine chest he was making. He knew that when the Gardners saw this wood, they would want it.
“We’ll send it with one of the missionaries heading that way,” Bishop Johansen told the men. “There’s no need for a special trip.”
Hanging his head, Thomas went back to work. He longed to travel to Salt Lake City and see how the work on the organ and the tabernacle was getting along. But he knew that his family still needed every spare moment they had to provide a living for themselves. There just was no time for trips anywhere.
Over the next months, Thomas waited to hear if their beautiful white pine had been chosen for the organ. No word came. Then in the spring, men came with ox teams to haul the superb logs to Salt Lake City.
“Dad,” Thomas exclaimed happily when he saw the teams snaking up the mountain, “they’re going to use our wood!”
His father smiled at him. “It was the best they found in the territory. They’ll use our wood for some of the pipes. The metal pipes are being made back East by the Simmons company. But the largest of the wood pipes are of our wood. And they’re encasing some pipes in pine that comes from a canyon close to Salt Lake City. They’ll paint that wood to look like oak.”
Thomas grinned from ear to ear. “I sure would like to hear that organ when it’s completed.”
His father put his hand on his shoulder. “I think we could manage a trip, even one that far, to attend general conference one of these years.”
It was a promise he kept, but Thomas had to wait two whole years for the organ and the Salt Lake Tabernacle to be ready for a conference. However, in September 1867, after the crops were safely in their bins, Thomas’s family began the slow wagon ride to Salt Lake City. They arrived in plenty of time for the conference on October 6.
That morning, Thomas slid into his seat. He listened in awe to the partially finished organ. He knew that it would take Brother Ridges several more years to finish it, but he loved the sound.
Here in the wilds of Deseret, beautiful music was forming. The organ would someday be world famous. Thomas knew that as it was completed, it would only become better. For now, he was happy just to listen to its beautiful strains.
Later that day, his father introduced him to Joseph Ridges. When he found that Thomas was interested in the instrument, he showed him what they were doing. Then he introduced him to Niels Johnson, Shure Olsen, David Anderson, William Pinney, and John Sandberg, men he had been training to work on the organ, too. They were all there that day to hear its beautiful tones.
The following Wednesday, as his family traveled home, Thomas was still marveling at what he’d seen and heard. Here in the wilds of Deseret, the Lord had helped his servants use what materials they had, and what skill they had, to begin building one of the greatest organs in the world. He had felt the Spirit very strongly as its music flowed through that great building. He thrilled at the messages of the prophets. He loved the music the choir sang, accompanied by the organ. How proud he was that some of the wood inside it came from his valley.

Alison Numkena and Jandi Hernandez want to set the record straight.
The girls, both Laurels in the Pinetop-Lakeside Arizona Stake, speak perfect English (in fact, it’s really the only language they speak). They watch television, go to regular high school, and when they attend stake dances, they don’t ride horseback to get there.
“It’s funny what people think about us sometimes,” says Jandi. “Since we’re Native Americans and we live on the reservation, people sometimes get funny ideas about what we’re like. But I think we’re pretty much like everybody else.”
And just like many young women in the Church, Alison, Jandi, and the rest of the girls on the Fort Apache Reservation look forward to girls’ camp in the summer.
However, for a long time, these girls had to wait two years between camp experiences. The stake hosts girls’ camp every other summer, and in the alternating summers, girls attend camp with their own wards and branches. But with just a small handful of active LDS girls, the reservation branches never had enough people for individual camps. Until this year, that is. By combining the girls from all three branches on the reservation, there was a large enough group for a small camp. So the girls and their leaders made it happen.
At the age of 18, Olivia Nez has been around the longest of any of the girls in the Young Women program on the reservation. She has played a large part in helping to plan this first girls’ camp, working closely with the leaders to make sure that all the girls had the equipment and skills necessary to have a great time. Even though her senior year was chock-full of activities, including being the student body president, Olivia made time to act as the youth camp director.
“Since I just graduated [from high school], this is my first and last camp with our branches,” she says. “The girls in my branch and the other branches face a lot of challenges, and this is a good opportunity to learn more about the gospel and recommit ourselves.”
Jandi and Alison, who are also Laurels, wanted to make a meaningful contribution to camp too. Jandi’s mom, Glenda, is the camp director, so she had plenty of things they could do to help out, including setting up camp and helping organize and execute a fund-raiser. They also put together binders for each girl containing information about each day’s activities, words to campfire songs, and camp certification information. Even with a relatively small group coming to camp, it was a big job.
“We worked right up to the last minute,” says Jandi. “The day camp started, we were still putting some of them together. We finished just in time!”
Many of the most important aspects of camp are the same for the girls on the Fort Apache Reservation as for young women anywhere else. Like any girls’ camp, there is a mixture of learning camping and hiking skills and learning about the gospel. There were afternoon workshops—many taught by the girls themselves—on the common challenges of keeping the Word of Wisdom, chastity, and church activity. Many of the other activities and campfire speakers also focused on these topics.
“Sometimes you get intimidated by an older person telling you what you need to do,” says Jandi. “Learning it from a friend is different; it’s easier to hear.”
There are differences, too, things that make this camp unlike any other. These girls are proud of their Native American heritage and have found ways to incorporate it into their camp experience. Most evenings there is something to eat that is unique to this camp—fry bread and Navajo tacos, for example, or a special cornbread that requires all the girls to help mash several ears of fresh corn and then take turns cooking the pancake-like bread over the fire.
But it’s not just the food that’s unique. One night’s campfire features several of the older leaders telling stories of their younger days on the reservation and of their conversion to the gospel. There is an emphasis on feeling good about being LDS and being a Native American and finding ways to make the two work together.
“Prayer is an important part of our culture, both as members of the Church and as members of the Apache tribe,” says Jandi. “It’s in our blood to pray morning, noon, and night. Heavenly Father and Jesus are important in our culture. Our tribal chairman and our tribal council often ask us to pray. You hear it in the Church and out.”
When camp ends, there are the usual comments about being eager to get home and have a hot shower, eat twig-free food, and sleep with something other than a rock for a pillow. As the girls take down tents and roll up sleeping bags, they talk about what was great about camp (seeing a baby elk from a distance of just a few feet) and what could be improved next time (more blankets for the near-freezing nighttime temperatures). But mostly they talk about how grateful they are that they were able to come to camp at all.
“We’ve gotten closer at this camp than we’ve ever been,” says Taren Webster, a Beehive. “Camp gives us time together away from home. I think that’s really important.”
Next year the girls from the reservation will join the other girls in their stake for camp. And the year after that? This group is still small, but they pulled it off once, so the next time should be a little easier. They’ll build on traditions they started this year, and maybe even come up with a few new ones. Just like this year, they’ll have a great time getting to know each other, becoming better campers, and learning about the gospel.
And that makes them pretty much like young women everywhere.
Are you heading off to girls’ camp soon? If so, you probably already know what to bring, and the activities are probably planned. Here are a few last-minute tips from the girls in Fort Apache for making a good camp great:
Be ready to share your talents, your ideas, and your testimony. Most camp activities require lots of group participation. Remember you’re among friends, so don’t be shy.
Maintain a cheerful attitude. Some parts of camp probably won’t be as much fun as others (being on dish-washing duty, for example), but putting a smile on your face and being a good sport make the time go quickly.
Look for opportunities to be kind. Does your tent mate need help with a certification skill? Is there a first-year camper who is homesick and could use a shoulder to cry on? Find people who need help and help them.
Remember what you’ve learned. At camp you often draw closer to the Lord, as well as to the other members of your Young Women group. Instead of letting those good feelings fade, build on them throughout the year.

I have a friend who is liberal with compliments. We faithfully emailed each other while we served our missions, and almost every week she’d tell me she hoped to be like me. Every time she said that, I cringed. I appreciated the compliment, but I couldn’t help but feel that if she knew me better, she wouldn’t think of me so highly. In her eyes, I was a missionary of the same caliber as Alma the Younger—in my own eyes, I still had a lot to learn.
My friend didn’t see the parts of my mission where I felt like I fell short. I wanted to be more like her! Imagine my surprise when I learned of her own feelings of inadequacy; she also felt the immense pressure of being a missionary and was too hard on herself when she couldn’t meet her own high expectations.
Sometimes when I’m given a compliment, I assume it’s exaggerated or inaccurate. I feel like my best isn’t enough at times. My little failures hit me hard because they “prove” I’m not good enough. Sometimes I think God is disappointed in me.
Does this sound like you? Having a mindset like this can be caused by “imposter syndrome”: “It is the nagging sense that no matter what you have accomplished, sooner or later someone will discover that you simply are not good enough, that you do not belong, and that your qualifications really are a sham.”1
In a spiritual context, this might mean that you struggle to feel that you belong in the Church and sometimes wonder if you’re as righteous as the people around you. But don’t worry, you’re far from the only young adult who feels spiritually inadequate in life. As disciples of Jesus Christ, we hold ourselves to high standards. However, when we demand immediate perfection, we might feel discouraged and forget our worth and potential as divine children of Heavenly Father.
Focusing on these practical tips and principles of the gospel helped me shift my perspective from feeling like I’m not measuring up to feeling like a child of God.
As Sister J. Annette Dennis, First Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency, taught, “When we seek to empathize with others who also experience challenges and imperfections, it can help them feel that they are not alone in their struggles. Everyone needs to feel that they really do belong and are needed in the body of Christ [see 1 Corinthians 12:12–27]”2
You’d be surprised how many other great people you know have experienced similar feelings at some point in their life.
But we can remind each other of the Savior’s enabling power in our lives. We’re all agonizingly aware of our own imperfections, but Christ knows how we feel—He understands our afflictions, temptations, and pains. Because of His Atonement, He can forgive and empower us to move on from our mistakes as we repent and follow His example.
Sharing your feelings and struggles with others—especially with Heavenly Father through prayer—can help you to feel less alone and help you support others as you strive to follow Jesus Christ and move forward on the covenant path.
Share genuine compliments with others, focusing on character or effort-related compliments instead of things outside someone’s control. Praise their work ethic, kindness, listening abilities, or the comments they make in Sunday School.
Compliment yourself too. You have strengths and successes that you miss because it’s easier to focus on weaknesses and failures. Remember what our Savior has promised us if we come unto Him. As Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught, “I believe the Savior Jesus Christ would want you to see, feel, and know that He is your strength. That with His help, there are no limits to what you can accomplish. That your potential is limitless. He would want you to see yourself the way He sees you.”3
Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles also taught, “The Lord blesses those who want to improve, who accept the need for commandments and try to keep them, who cherish Christlike virtues and strive to the best of their ability to acquire them.”4 Your desires and efforts and divine identity say much more about who you are than any achievement, title, or grade.
“Perfection is pending,”5 says President Russell M. Nelson. Understanding that perfection doesn’t come in this life can be freeing. Instead, focus on progression. Elder Michael A. Dunn of the Seventy also recently taught us that doing just “one percent better”6 and focusing on small improvements can help us reach our potential.
Quoting Elder Neal A. Maxwell of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles (1926-2004), Sister Michelle D. Craig, Second Counselor in the General Young Women Presidency, calls our desire to be better “divine discontent,” saying that it “leads to humility, not to self-pity or the discouragement that comes from making comparisons in which we always come up short.”7
I would add that there is no such thing as divine despair. If you think that your feelings of worthlessness or inadequacy are humility, you’re misunderstanding what humility is. Humility is holy; despair is not. God wants us to be humble enough to acknowledge our dependence on Him, but He also wants us to see ourselves as what we can become: exalted beings like Him.
The gospel is for everyone, but it’s also specifically for you. Jesus always showed His love for the one while He was here on earth, and that hasn’t changed. Take the time to read your patriarchal blessing and understand your unique gifts, responsibilities, and blessings. Develop a personal relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ through prayer, scripture study, and attending church. You’ll realize They love you as an individual.
So, if you read this article believing you’re not good enough or you’re not measuring up, please know that your worth is inherent; as sons and daughters of Heavenly Father, we each have divine potential. As President Russell M. Nelson taught: “Your potential is divine. With your diligent seeking, God will give you glimpses of who you may become.”8

Several years ago we had a young paperboy who didn’t always deliver the paper in the manner intended. Instead of getting the paper on the porch, he sometimes accidentally threw it into the bushes or even close to the street. Some on his paper route decided to start a petition of complaint. One day a delegation came to our home and asked my wife, Frances, to sign the petition. She declined, saying, “Why, he’s just a little boy, and the papers are so heavy for him. I would never be critical of him, for he tries his best.” The petition, however, was signed by many of the others on the paper route and sent to the boy’s supervisors.
Not many days afterward, I came home from work and found Frances in tears. When she was finally able to talk, she told me that she had just learned that the body of the little paperboy had been found in his garage, where he had taken his own life. Apparently the criticism heaped upon him had been too much for him to bear. How grateful we were that we had not joined in that criticism. What a vivid lesson this has always been regarding the importance of being nonjudgmental and treating everyone with kindness.

Recently, I was at home with my 4-year-old daughter, Romana, and we were both in my bedroom. I left the bedroom and went to the living room, leaving her alone in the bedroom. A few minutes later, I called out to her: “Romana, you are alone in the bedroom, come to the living room to be with me and your dolls.”

Without hesitating, she replied: “Mom, I am not alone, God is with me! We are never alone, remember?” I was so touched to hear my little girl saying those words. A few days earlier, during our family study, my husband and I had taught our children that our Heavenly Father and our Savior are always with us, despite our weaknesses and challenges. We are never alone!

“Michael, I’m not going to tell you again. Get into the living room and practice.”
“Why?”
“Because practice makes perfect, because you’ll thank me later, and because I say so!”
The last reason carried the most weight. Michael sighed as he dumped his baseball glove on the hall table and went into the torture chamber.
There it stood—eighty-eight keys’ worth of misery. Michael thought he knew how knights of old had felt when advancing to certain doom. “We who are about to die salute you,” he muttered under his breath.
“I don’t hear anything,” his mother called from the kitchen.
There was no way out. Michael placed his fingers on what he hoped were the correct keys and began to play. It sounded like the time the high school drum major had tripped in a parade and knocked down a drummer and half the woodwinds.
“That’s better,” his mother called over the cacophony.
“If only it were,” Michael muttered wearily.
Half an hour later he knew he had reached his breaking point. “Kitten on the Keys” sounded like the cat had just had an unfortunate run-in with a train. Resolutely he headed to the kitchen.
Mom was at the table, gluing together rocks that she painted with cute faces and sold at the craft store in town. The house was littered with the things. They paid for Michael’s piano lessons.
“Uh, Mom,” Michael said gently. “I think you should stop painting those.”
“Why?” she asked, putting a base coat of paint on something that vaguely resembled a frog.
“Because I’m quitting piano.”
The rock frog quivered, then fell stickily apart in Mom’s hands. She turned to face him. “Oh no you’re not.”
“Look, Mom,” he reasoned, “you’re throwing money down a well here. A deep well. I have no talent. I’ve learned to face it, why can’t you?”
“Nonsense,” she replied briskly. “You just need to practice more. Anyone can learn to play the piano. How hard can it be?”
At that, Michael snapped. “If you think it’s so all-fired easy, why don’t you take the lessons?”
“Me?” Mom asked, taken aback. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Don’t think you can do it, huh?” Michael replied triumphantly.
His mother looked thoughtful for a moment, then smiled. “All right, you’re on! I’ll take lessons too.”
“Too? No, no, no. Instead. You’re going to take them instead of me, right?”
“No—too. Here’s the deal.” Mom looked him in the eye. “We both take lessons. If, at the next recital, I play better than you do, you keep taking lessons. If, however, you play better than I do, then it’s your choice.”
Michael saw that this was the best chance he’d get. “OK.” Now, at least, there was a possibility of escape. The next recital was in two months. Mom couldn’t possibly catch up and pass him by then. After all, he’d been taking lessons for almost a year. It was a sure thing. He could relax.
He stopped relaxing after two weeks. To his horror, he discovered that his mother was swiftly progressing from one-hand to two-hand pieces, from scales to chords.
“It’s not fair!” he announced, coming home from school to hear “Kitten on the Keys” played as if the cat had almost completely recovered from the train accident. “You can practice all day, and I have to go to school.”
Mom just smiled and launched into “Elephant Antics,” finishing with a flourish before presenting him with the piano bench.
Michael began to panic. He got up early to practice. He zipped home after school and flung himself at the keyboard with the desperation of a drowning man learning to swim. Mom had lined up a critical audience of stone creatures along the top of the piano that seemed to eye him as he played, daring him to improve.
To his amazement, he started playing better. To his horror, so did his mother.
The piano was practiced from dawn until bedtime. Michael’s father took to inserting earplugs as he walked through the front door every evening. The dog decided to spend its time in the backyard. The neighbors kept their windows shut.
Finally the day of the recital arrived. Michael sat on the stage with the other piano students—a line of kids, with Mom sticking out like a basketball player at a jockey convention.
Sweat trickled down his back; Mom looked cool and collected in pink organdy.
“She’s just trying to psych me out,” he told himself as he ran a finger inside his sweaty collar, trying to loosen it. But she hadn’t let him hear her practice in a week. How good is she? he wondered.
Pretty good, he groaned to himself, when he heard her play. Her fingers moved swiftly across the keyboard, and he counted only three mistakes. The applause when she finished sounded like the final nails being pounded into his coffin.
He was next. Nervously he approached the piano, sat down, raised his hands to the keys, and played.
To his amazement he sounded good. No, he sounded great! He’d been so busy the last few weeks worrying about his mother that he hadn’t really been listening to himself. Well, I’ll be! Mom was right—practice does make perfect!
The applause, when he finished, seemed to rock the room. He was surprised to see Mom clapping the hardest. At least she was a good loser.
“You won fair and square,” she said as they walked home. “So what are you going to do, Michael? Are you quitting piano lessons?”
“I guess not.” He shrugged. “After these last two months, a half hour of practice a day will seem like a vacation. Besides,” he added, pretending to buff his nails, “I’m getting pretty good at it.” He paused. “What about you, Mom?”
“I’d like to keep taking lessons, too,” she said, “but I don’t know if my painting can support two lessons—it takes time to find good rocks, you know.”
Michael stooped down, picked up a couple of likely rocks, and handed them to her. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll help you.”

Many years later, when I was grown up and had my own family, we heard the message of the gospel of Jesus Christ when the missionaries knocked on our door. There was something in these missionaries—a glow of trust, a glow of hope, a glow of security, and a glow of love—that looked in the beginning to us like a fairy tale.
Could it be true? Could it really be true that we are all children of a loving Heavenly Father, and that through the Spirit of Jesus Christ I could come to an understanding of the feelings I had had at Christmastime in my childhood? Because this door opened, the understanding that led to our conversion and baptism helped us see that we could experience Christmas every day when we focus always on Him, listen to Him, and embrace Him with a loving, grateful heart. What joy came to my family when we opened our souls to the light of the gospel of Jesus Christ!

Today I would like to address one of the most joyful, glorious, and powerful gospel truths that God has revealed. At the same time, it is ironically one for which we have been criticized. An experience I had some years ago profoundly deepened my appreciation for this gospel truth.
As a representative of the Church, I was once invited to a religious conference where it was announced that from that moment on they would recognize as valid all baptisms performed by almost all other Christian churches, as long as the ordinance was done with water and in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Then it was explained that this policy did not apply to baptisms performed by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
After the conference I was able to delve deeper into the reasons for that exception with the leader in charge of the announcement. We had a wonderful and insightful conversation.
In short, he explained to me that that exception had primarily to do with our particular beliefs about the Godhead, which other Christian denominations often refer to as the Trinity. I expressed my appreciation for him taking the time to explain to me his beliefs and the policy of his church. At the end of our conversation, we hugged and then said goodbye.
As I later contemplated our discussion, what this leader said about Latter-day Saints not understanding what he called the “mystery of the Trinity” stayed in my mind. What was he referring to? Well, it had to do with our understanding of the nature of God. We believe that God the Father “is an exalted man” with a glorified “body of flesh and bones as tangible as man’s; [and] the Son also.” Thus, every time we talk about the nature of God, in some way, somehow, we are also talking about our own nature.
And this is true not only because we all were made “in [His] image, after [His] likeness,” but also because, as the Psalmist recorded, God said, “Ye are gods; and all of you are children of the Most High.” This is for us a precious doctrine now recovered with the advent of the Restoration. In summary, it is nothing more or less than what our missionaries teach as the first lesson, first paragraph, first line: “God is our Heavenly Father, and we are His children.”
Now, you might say, “But many people believe we are children of God.” Yes, that is true, but their understanding may be a little different from the implication of its deeper meaning that we affirm. For Latter-day Saints, this teaching is not metaphorical. Rather, we truly believe that we are all literally the children of God. He is “the Father of [our] spirits,” and because of that, we have the potential to become like Him, which seems to be inconceivable to some.
It has now been over 200 years since the First Vision opened the doors to the Restoration. At the time, young Joseph Smith sought guidance from heaven to know what church to join. Through the revelation he received that day, and in later revelations given to him, the Prophet Joseph obtained knowledge about the nature of God and our relationship to Him as His children.
Because of that, we learn more clearly that our Heavenly Father has taught this precious doctrine from the very beginning. Allow me to cite at least two accounts from the scriptures to illustrate this.
You might remember God’s instructions to Moses as recorded in the Pearl of Great Price.
We read that “God spake unto Moses, saying: Behold, I am the Lord God Almighty, and Endless is my name.” In other words, Moses, I want you to know who I am. Then He added, “And, behold, thou art my son.” Later he said, “And I have a work for thee, Moses, my son; and thou art in the similitude of mine Only Begotten.” And then finally, He ended with, “And now, behold, this one thing I show unto thee, Moses, my son.”
It appears that God was determined to teach Moses at least one lesson: “You are my child,” which He repeated at least three times. He could not even mention the name of Moses without immediately adding that he was His son.
However, after Moses was left alone, he felt weak because he was no longer in the presence of God. That is when Satan came to tempt him. Can you see a pattern here? The first thing he said was, “Moses, son of man, worship me.”
In this context, Satan’s request to worship him may have been only a distraction. A significant temptation for Moses in that moment of weakness was to become confused and believe that he was only a “son of man,” rather than a child of God.
“And it came to pass that Moses looked upon Satan and said: Who art thou? For behold, I am a son of God, in the similitude of his Only Begotten.” Fortunately, Moses was not confused and did not allow himself to become distracted. He had learned the lesson of who he really was.
The next account is found in Matthew 4. Scholars have entitled this “the three temptations of Jesus,” as if the Lord was tempted only three times, which of course is not the case.
Hundreds of gallons of ink have been used to explain the meaning and content of these temptations. As we know, the chapter begins by explaining that Jesus had gone into the desert, “and when he had fasted forty days and forty nights, he was afterward an hungred.”
Satan’s first temptation apparently had only to do with satisfying the Lord’s physical needs. “Command that these stones be made bread,” he challenged the Savior.
A second enticement may have had to do with tempting God: “Cast thyself down: for it is written, He shall give his angels charge concerning thee.”
Finally, Satan’s third temptation referred to the aspirations and glory of the world. After Jesus had been shown “all the kingdoms of the world, … [Satan] saith unto him, All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me.”
In truth, Satan’s ultimate temptation may have had less to do with those three specific provocations and more to do with tempting Jesus Christ to question His divine nature. At least twice, the enticement was preceded by the challenging accusation from Satan: “If thou be the Son of God”—if you really believe it, then do this or that.
Please notice what had happened immediately before Jesus went into the desert to fast and pray: we find the account of Christ’s baptism. And when He had come out of the water, there came “a voice from heaven, saying, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”
Do we see the connection? Can we recognize a pattern here?
It is no wonder that every time we are taught about our divine nature and destiny, the adversary of all righteousness tempts us to call them into question.
How different our decisions would be if we really knew who we really are.
We live in a challenging world, a world of increasing commotion, where honorable people strive to at least emphasize our human dignity, while we belong to a church and embrace a gospel that lift our vision and invite us into the divine.
Jesus’s commandment to be “perfect, even as [our] Father which is in heaven is perfect” is a clear reflection of His high expectations and our eternal possibilities. Now, none of this will happen overnight. In the words of President Jeffrey R. Holland, it will happen “eventually.” But the promise is that if we “come unto Christ,” we will “be perfected in him.” That requires a lot of work—not just any work, but a divine work. His work!
Now, the good news is that it is precisely our Father in Heaven who has said, “For behold, this is my work and my glory—to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.”
President Russell M. Nelson’s invitation to “think celestial” implies a wonderful reminder of our divine nature, origin, and potential destination. We can obtain the celestial only through Jesus Christ’s atoning sacrifice.
Perhaps that is why Satan enticed Jesus with the very same temptation from the beginning to the end of His earthly ministry. Matthew recorded that while Jesus hung on the cross, those “that passed by reviled him, … saying, … If thou be the Son of God, come down from the cross.” Glory be to God that He did not hearken but instead provided the way for us to receive all celestial blessings.
Let us always remember, there was a great price paid for our happiness.
I testify as with the Apostle Paul that “the Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are children of God: and if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together.” In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

For a time, a volcanic eruption, a cyclone, and COVID-19 prevented full-time missionaries from proselyting on the island of Tanna, Vanuatu, in the South Pacific Ocean. But after months of missionary work by local Church members and returned missionaries there, more than 100 people were prepared for baptism.
As missionary companions, we took a 45-minute plane flight from Efate Island south to Tanna Island. We brought a large stack of baptismal forms and used a mission pickup truck to begin our visits to the island’s eight branches. By the time we arrived in August, the number of people ready for baptism had grown to 114.
On August 18, 2022, we went to the branch in Sideseawi. We had no way to contact the branch president to tell him we were coming. We just went and hoped to find him.
When you think of Tanna, think of jungle roads. We drove our pickup truck as far up the mountain as we could. Then we left it and started walking. It took us three hours to reach the village. All we had to eat were coconuts we found along the way.
When we reached the village, the branch president was not there, but his counselor was. We talked to him about missionary work, and then it started to rain. When it starts to rain in Sideseawi, people try their very best to find a safe area. We hurried down the mountain to our truck.
When there’s no rain in Tanna, it’s safe to drive. But when there’s rain, that’s when it’s scary. When we reached our truck, we started driving but soon got stuck crossing a river.
We tried to push the truck out, but that didn’t work. So, we called the district president for help. Help came and we tried again to move the truck, but the rains kept coming bigger and bigger. Several rivers were filling and flowing down from different areas around us.
Photograph courtesy of the authors
Those who were helping us got out of the river, but we held tightly to the vehicle’s seats as the river rose. We didn’t want to abandon the truck. The water was now up to the truck’s door handles on the current side.
We called our mission president, Mark Messick, and told him what was going on. “Right now the water is getting bigger and bigger,” we said. We asked if it was OK to save our lives and leave the truck.
“Thank you for giving me a call,” President Messick told us. “It’s OK! Leave the truck where it is and find a safe place now!”
We were close to where two rivers met. The other river near us was already big and fast, but the river where we were was still small, like it was waiting for us to get out. But then, boom!
Someone shouted from the riverbank. Elder Nalin, from Tanna, understood the warning: “Water!”
Our truck was stuck sideways, with the rising current rushing against Elder Toa’s door. Elder Nalin got out first. Elder Toa had to climb into the back seat and out the door on the other side of the cab to get out. He quickly looked on the back seat for our baptismal forms and scriptures but didn’t see them. He thought Elder Nalin had already taken them. As soon as Elder Toa got out, the river took the truck.
If water ruined the forms, we would have to return to areas we had visited and redo interviews. We would also have to fly back to the mission office in Efate to get more baptismal forms and then return to Tanna.
Elder Silas Toa
Photograph by Christine Hair
Elder Brian Moses Nalin
Photograph by Christine Hair
As we watched the truck being swept away, Elder Toa finally spotted the scriptures and the baptismal forms on the back seat. “How can this be possible?” He wondered how he had not seen them before.
While we were still in the river, we called on the power of God to protect our scriptures and baptismal forms. We had faith that He could save them according to His will.
Then we got out of the river and knelt and prayed about the truck and our baptismal forms and scriptures. We couldn’t see the truck anymore, but we knew that everything was going to be fine.
People from Sideseawi found the truck later that day and called the district president. The truck had been carried about 820 feet (250 m) downstream. Everything in the truck was wet, except for our baptismal forms and scriptures! They were dry, sitting on top of some pamphlets, notebooks, and manuals.
We gathered a group to help us get the truck out of the river. The truck had to dry out but was quickly repaired. It had no dents or scratches.
After the storm, we mostly walked to the different branches in Tanna. When your legs get tired of walking, you walk with your heart.
Over the next few days, we finished our baptismal interviews and baptized 114 people, many of them families. One branch had 48 people ready for baptism. We started interviewing them at 7:00 a.m. When we finished, we saw the sun going down.
A flood of trials may come into our lives, but we testify that our faith in God’s power will bless us. Not even Tanna’s flood of water could overpower our Heavenly Father’s flood of blessings.

American Indians in Nottingham’s Old Market Square?! Someone must have their history mixed up. But no, it’s all part of a program to help teach the British people more about the Book of Mormon.
President Eldon J. Callister of the England Birmingham Mission realized that one of the biggest hindrances to missionary work in England is the misconception the people have of Mormons. “Oh yes, you have more than one wife and think it wicked to drink tea” is what missionaries hear when they ask the question, “What do you know about the Mormon church?”
The Book of Mormon is one of the greatest tools for missionary work, so in order to help people become interested, President Callister assigned two elders to produce an entertaining and educational show that could be used to teach about the Lamanite people. Within the mission was an elder with considerable experience with Indian dances and customs, Elder Kim Larson. Another elder, Tom Spencer, who had theatrical experience was assigned to help with the program, and the two elders wrote “Ancient America Speaks.”
Elder Larson sent for his handmade Kiowa Dance costume, which he had used in the U.S. while performing with the Koshare (pronounced co-shar-ee) Indian dancers of LaJunta, Colorado. Elder Spencer sat down and began to write. Their production showed the modern American Indian in his rightful position as a descendant of a once-Christian people. They tell about the legends and dances that illustrate how the Indians changed their form of worship from Christianity to those of a more pagan nature.
During their first year of performances, the elders danced and spoke before thousands. During the summer months they performed in town fairs and carnivals. Open houses were held in all of the four stakes within the mission boundaries. Countless shopping centers, market squares, town centers, and colleges were the stages for the tom-toms and storytelling. A slightly modified program was written for public schools. More than 100 schools were visited, which resulted in a good feeling toward the Church. Many have asked for the program to return next year.
The program has been such a success in introducing the British to the gospel that two more elders were assigned to carry on the presentations after Elders Larson and Spencer were released.
The elders have appeared on TV twice, and newspaper articles have continued to be published. The British find the American Indian story interesting, but it’s the gospel story they learn that really affects them. The Indian program seems to make it easier for many to want to learn more. So for these Indian-missionaries there are no reservations concerning missionary work.

From the time I was a young girl in Venezuela I wanted a Bible of my own. But it wasn’t until I became a member of The Church of Jesus Christ and felt a great need to get to know my Savior that I promised myself to buy a Bible the next chance I had.
The Church was new in our area, and orders for books could be filled only when someone traveled in person to mission headquarters. My branch president, who was a full-time missionary, was aware of my need. One day he told me that he would be traveling to the mission office in three days. I explained to him that even though the Bible cost very little, at that moment I did not have any money. I told him I would get it before he left, and he agreed to stop by my home on his way to the mission office.
The day of his trip arrived. I still did not have the money, so I appealed to the Lord in prayer. When I finished praying, my worry disappeared and I felt a great peace. I had barely arisen from my knees when someone knocked at the door. I opened it and saw a young mother with a baby in her arms.
“I live just behind your house,” she said with a smile. “I don’t know you, but I need a favor, and for some reason I decided to come here.” She asked me to watch her baby for a short time, saying that she would pay me. I agreed to do it.
By the time she returned, I had decided that I wouldn’t take her money. But she placed in my hand the exact amount I needed for the Bible. What tender emotions I felt at that moment! I knew that the Lord had answered my prayer. My heart overflowed with gratitude.

Like many people, I have struggled for much of my life to recognize my self-worth. I have fought weight problems for many years, which have contributed to my negative feelings. Even though I have lost weight and lead a healthy lifestyle now, occasionally I still find myself fighting off those negative thoughts and feelings.
One morning I felt particularly low and was wondering how to make the situation better. I began to pray and ask for Heavenly Father’s help to overcome these feelings of inadequacy. As I prayed, the following scripture came to my mind: “If ye have no hope ye must needs be in despair; and despair cometh because of iniquity” (Moroni 10:22).
Iniquity seemed to be such a serious word, so much so that at first I discounted the thought because I could think of nothing that I had done seriously wrong. However, the thought persisted, so I prayed, as instructed also by Moroni, for Heavenly Father to show me my weakness that I might be made strong (see Ether 12:27).
I found myself remembering three incidents during the previous two days when I had not shown patience with my children. I had put my own moods and needs in front of theirs and had not been sensitive to their feelings. I felt bad and resolved to do better. I apologized to my children and prayed for forgiveness. As soon as I prayed, my feelings of inadequacy were lifted and I was able to feel the peace that had eluded me.
As though a light switch turned on in my mind, I finally understood a simple concept that somehow I had missed all these years. When I have unresolved sin in my life, even if it is small, I give Satan power to influence me. He knows my weaknesses, and he knows what words will “stir me up” and “lead me to destruction” (see D&C 10:22). When it comes right down to it, I don’t hate myself, but Satan does hate me and will use every tactic available to turn me away from the light.
However, when I repent, I rely on the power of Jesus Christ. Because He knows perfectly how to succor me in my weakness (see Alma 7:11–12), His power lifts me up and makes me strong in ways that I can’t be on my own.
Likewise, I will do my best to repent and obey the commandments so the “power of Christ may rest upon me” and I can be filled with peace and love.

I would like to express my gratitude for the great uplift the New Era brings me. This past summer I had the opportunity of living in New York as a mother’s helper for a nonmember family. Naturally, there are no LDS books of any kind in the house. When I was about at the point of despair, my mother sent my five latest issues of the New Era that had arrived at my home. I was elated. I find myself rereading the stories many times over. I love to sit down at the piano and play the music in them. My spirits have been greatly uplifted. I can hear about our Church during the week instead of just when I get the chance to attend church here. Thank you very much.
Cindy SavageLong Island, New York