Gospel Story Finder

When the Kingman Arizona Stake held its first youth conference, one of the favorite activities was a New Era Bowl held one afternoon. Each ward chose teams of four to compete. The contestants had been advised ahead of time which issue of the magazine to read in preparation. A system of buzzers and lights aided judges in determining who had the first chance to answer the questions. Questions were taken from articles in the magazine.
The Kingman Third Ward Team A defeated the Bullhead City Team for trophies.

A few weeks ago I spoke with a recent Brigham Young University graduate in New York City. During the conversation I detected a slight accent. I asked the young man if he was from another country. He said his homeland was Brazil, where he had spent the first 23 years of his life. Since few foreign converts are financially able or academically prepared to attend the university, I asked if he was a second- or third-generation member.
“No!” he responded. “I was a convert at age 17.”
I then asked, “How much education did you have at the time of your conversion?”
His answer, “I had completed the eighth grade.”
I was even more surprised. “How did you make it to BYU?” I inquired. “What motivated you to move forward with your education?”
In essence he responded, “The truths of the gospel and a mission experience convinced me of the importance of further study. Before my mission I learned about the principles of eternal progress. During the mission I had the opportunity to teach these principles to others. As I rubbed shoulders with other missionaries who had high educational aspirations, I became convinced of my own potential. When I returned from the mission field, I was determined to complete high school and move on to college. I earned a high school diploma within two years while working and saving and then applied for admittance to Brigham Young University. I was accepted. I have finished a bachelor’s degree and an MBA and now have excellent employment with a large multinational corporation that utilizes my talents in both the United States and Brazil.”
Simple but profound truths that we often take for granted had an enormous impact on the young Brazilian’s life. He took to heart the dictum to seek “out of the best books words of wisdom; seek learning, even by study and also by faith” (D&C 88:118). He believed the revelations that state: “It is impossible for a man [or woman] to be saved in ignorance (D&C 131:6); that “the glory of God is intelligence” (D&C 93:36); that
whatever principle of intelligence we attain unto in this life, it will rise with us in the resurrection.
And if a person gains more knowledge and intelligence in this life through his diligence and obedience than another, he will have so much the advantage in the world to come. [D&C 130:18–19]
Since the conversation, I have reflected again and again on the blessings of a testimony, of receiving “truth in the inward parts” (Psalm 51:6). In general we are aware of the eternal consequences of having gospel principles burned in our souls by the power of the Holy Ghost. The redemption of the soul and the inseparable connection of body and spirit coupled with eternal glory come to mind. These are of ultimate importance. But there are also more immediate blessings that flow from a testimony like that enjoyed by the young Brazilian. Not only was his eternal path changed forever, but so was his life in mortality. The motivation to improve his personal circumstances was a direct consequence of his conversion and faith. This motivation caused him to obtain an education that then led to employment well beyond anything he had dreamed of as a teenager in Brazil.

Now let me close by personalizing this a little. On January 12, 1992, Jody Jorgensen Nichols, a neighbor of ours and one of the best friends of our daughter, Jani, left the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, and flew to Helsinki, Finland, with two elders and two other sisters to serve in the Finland Helsinki East Mission. All had been studying Russian and were preparing to preach to the Russian people. At that point there was no mission in Russia, but Gary Browning, president of the Finland Helsinki East Mission, was responsible for the members and missionaries in the former Soviet Union. Our good friends Gerald and Peggy Jorgensen, Jody’s parents, were a little apprehensive about sending Jody off to Russia. In fact, Peggy told me that she even wondered if she would ever see Jody again. Their understanding was that Jody would live in Helsinki but travel back and forth to different spots in Russia to teach the people.

When Jody arrived in Helsinki, she and her group were notified that they would all leave for Saint Petersburg the next day. However, one would continue on alone to Moscow. Little did they know what was going to be announced that weekend. The next morning, as they prepared to leave, Jody was told that she would be the lone missionary continuing on to Moscow. She sat down and wrote a short note to her parents explaining that she was the only missionary in her group of five who would travel on to Moscow. On Thursday, January 16, Jody arrived in Moscow, where she met up with her companion and began to work with a small group in the Church. At that time there was one main branch and three small groups in Moscow, all clustered around metro stops. On Saturday, Jody attended a zone conference where it was announced that two new missions were being created: the Russia Saint Petersburg and Russia Moscow Missions. So now she knew that she would be working in Russia for the remainder of her mission. Only a few days later, on Monday, her letter from Helsinki arrived in Orem, and the reality of the transfer began to set in for Gerald and Peggy. Would Peggy’s premonition come true? Needless to say, Monday was a very difficult day. All they knew was that Jody was leaving her companions behind and traveling alone to Moscow to begin her work.

At the same time, not knowing that Jody had left the MTC, I was preparing for a trip to Moscow. I had been invited to present a paper at a conference being hosted by Moscow State University, and I was having a difficult time getting a visa. In fact, I nearly canceled my trip because I knew that I would miss the plenary session where I was to present my paper. But I had my tickets, and I didn’t want to let down my host. So in the Dulles Airport I met a courier with my visa and then headed off to Moscow about the same time Jody was on the train leaving Helsinki. I knew I would be there on Sunday, so I asked my nonmember friend, Andrei Markov—then the vice dean of the College of Economics at Moscow State University—if he could find an LDS branch for me to attend. On Sunday, only a few days after Jody arrived in Moscow, I had a taxi take me to the building close to the university metro stop where the Church group was meeting. I was early—one of the few times that has happened in my life—so I sat in the cold foyer of the building and waited for the members to arrive. Who was one of the first people to walk through the door? Jody Jorgensen. We were both shocked. I told her to sit down during church and write a letter to her parents. And then it was so fun to listen to Jody bear her testimony in Russian, having only been in the country a few days. She had prepared herself well.

The next day I flew home. That happened to be the day that Gerald and Peggy received Jody’s letter from Helsinki. When I arrived home about 10 p.m. or so, I called Gerald to tell him that I had just come from Moscow, where I had gone to church with Jody, and that I had a letter for them. Needless to say, he came right over. Peggy has since told me that when they got my call that Monday night, she was lying in bed clutching her scriptures, worried to death about Jody. Once she got the letter I brought, she felt a feeling of peace come over her that never left her for the rest of Jody’s mission. She knew that everything would be all right.

Does the Lord care about these things? Of course he does. Was it a coincidence that I decided to go to Moscow, even though I missed part of the conference? Was it a coincidence that Jody and I ended up in the same building at the same time? Of course not. Sometimes, if we step back, we can see the Lord’s hand in his work.

My friend and I were kicking a rock back and forth as we walked to school. I kicked the rock and it hit the side of my neighbor’s truck and made a small dent. I was scared that I would get in trouble, so I decided not to tell anyone. When I got home from school, I felt worse and worse until I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I told my parents what had happened. My dad took me over to my neighbor’s house, and we told him about it. My dad asked if we could clean the truck as payment. We spent a long time cleaning the inside and outside of the truck, and when we took it back I felt much better. I was glad that the Holy Ghost had helped me to choose the right.

I hated being the new kid in school, yet there I was, new for the third time in less than a year.
I dreaded going to my seventh-grade class that first day. Who would talk to me? Would I be able to find my locker, and if I could, would I remember the combination? Would the other kids in P.E. make fun of my skinny white legs? What subjects were they studying? Who would I eat lunch with? Who would I walk home with?
I was scared to death.
That morning, I invented all kinds of excuses to get Mom to let me stay home from school for one more day.
“C’mon, Mom, I don’t even know where the school is. What if I get lost on the way and you never see me again?”
That didn’t faze her.
“Besides, I think I might have the flu. You don’t want to embarrass me by making me go to school sick, do you? I’ll probably throw up right in the middle of English class, and for the rest of my life, all the kids at school will remember me as the kid who threw up in Miss Van Horn’s class.”
That got a smile out of her, but she still didn’t give in. She handed me my lunch, wished me a good day, and pushed me out the door.
The first day wasn’t so bad. I found the school, I didn’t throw up, and my teachers didn’t ask me any questions I couldn’t answer. And I even made a friend. At least, I thought I had.
Craig, a popular kid in my homeroom, befriended me. He helped me find my classes, ate lunch with me, introduced me to some of his friends, and even asked me to stick around after school to shoot some baskets.
I figured Craig and I were going to be great friends, so I hung around him all the time. But one day in the second week at my new school, some of his friends pulled me aside at lunch and said, “Hey, why do you keep hanging around Craig?”
“Cause we’re friends,” I answered.
They laughed. “Friends?” smirked one. “He hates you hanging around him all the time at school. Why don’t you just leave him alone?”
Their words stunned me, and I struggled to keep a smile on my face as they walked away laughing. I decided, then and there, I’d stay away from Craig. If he wanted to be my friend, I’d welcome him, but I wasn’t going to be pushy.
Everyone wants to be liked and to have friends, but some people are so desperate to make friends that they’ll do almost anything. My shadowing Craig, for example, was out of character for me, but at the time I really needed a friend and I didn’t have the confidence that I would make friends by being my normal self.
As a high school teacher, I’ve seen students completely change themselves in hopes of winning friends.
Lora, a sophomore, was new in my school, and she had everything going for her. She was pretty, smart, athletic, and personable. Unfortunately, it was her first experience in a new school, and she had difficulty adjusting. She had never known what it was like to be new, to be a stranger, to be without friends.
In her desperation to make friends, Lora latched onto the first kids who showed an interest in her. Those kids were, in my estimation, less than desirable. They lived for the weekends when they could “party hardy.”
They welcomed Lora with open arms, and so she was sharing the shallow existence of those whose only happiness is found in alcohol, drugs, or immorality. Lora continued to be pleasant and active in my class, but she had changed. Her sparkling countenance was gone, and her academic motivation was fading.
It’s important to have friends, but friends and popularity aren’t worth self-destruction. One Church leader said it well when he advised youth to, “Seek not to be well known; seek, instead, to be worth knowing.”
It’s not difficult to get to know people if you involve yourself in school activities, talk to people, and act friendly. But sometimes the hard part comes in making real friends out of people you get to know. If, however, you’re “worth knowing,” you’ll have little trouble turning acquaintances into friends.
So then, how can you be worth knowing?
First, be interested in others. Martin H. Durrant, my former bishop and stake president, lifts my spirit every time I meet him. He always asks me about myself, my family, my job, or my hobby. His questions are sincere, and I know, without a doubt, that he’s genuinely interested.
But it’s not always easy to talk about other people’s interests. For example, a friend and I were finishing graduate school at about the same time. Every time we met he’d tell me in great detail about his research project and how it was going. In all the time we were working together, he never once asked me about my work and study. He didn’t seem like a real friend because he didn’t seem interested in what I was doing.
Once you learn to talk to others about their interests, practice being cheerful. Having a smile on your face forces you to be in a good mood. No one enjoys being around a grump or someone who looks like they’re carrying the world’s problems on their shoulders.
In addition to being cheerful, it’s also important to be a good listener. Sometimes when my wife has a problem or is struggling with a decision, she’ll talk to me about it. My first impulse is to stop listening, tell her what I would do, and advise her to do likewise.
It took me a while to learn that she didn’t want my advice; she wanted my willing ear. The next time a friend tells you about a problem, bite your tongue the minute you’re tempted to dispense advice. Let them say all they have to say; then give advice only if they ask for it.
And, finally, be a good influence on others. When I was a sophomore in high school, some of my friends started drinking and smoking. They knew I didn’t drink or smoke, but they began to pressure me to join their parties anyway. The more they pressured me, the more uncomfortable I felt, until finally I stopped hanging around them. I figured that if they were really my friends, they wouldn’t push me to do things I didn’t want to do. Real friends would never ask you to do something you shouldn’t.
Really, this friendly advice is basically what you’d do if you followed the Savior’s advice to “love one another.” If you really work at loving those around you, and show that love, you’ll be the kind of friend everybody wants.
It’s never easy being the new kid on the block, and making friends and breaking into social groups can be tough. Here are a few ideas you might want to consider.
Give yourself some time. If you’ve just moved to a new town, or changed to a new school, it will take a while to establish friendships. Don’t worry if you have to spend some time alone for the first few months. Take advantage of this time by participating in family activities, developing your talents, and learning about your new surroundings.
Don’t be afraid to make the first move. You can’t always wait for people to introduce themselves to you. Remember, they might be as apprehensive approaching the “new” person as you are talking to them.
Stay away from people who drag you down. If your friends force you to choose between them and doing what you know is right, it’s time to look for new friends. Pray for guidance when you are making new friends, and make a commitment to yourself to maintain your integrity.
Get involved. In addition to getting to know the kids in your ward or branch through Mutual activities, try joining a club at school, going out for a sports team, volunteering to decorate for a dance, or trying out for a play. These types of activities often involve teamwork, so it’s a good way to really get to know people who share your interests.
Be worth knowing. Think about the kind of person you would like to be friends with. Write down some of the qualities that person would have, and then work to cultivate those traits in yourself.

In the infant days of the Restoration, Jesus counseled and comforted Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery, who were working to translate the Book of Mormon and who would soon have the priesthood conferred upon them. Joseph was 23 years old at the time, and Oliver was 22. Persecution and other obstacles were frequent if not constant. In these conditions, in April 1829 the Lord spoke these words to them:
“Fear not, little flock; do good; let earth and hell combine against you, for if ye are built upon my rock, they cannot prevail.
“Behold, I do not condemn you; go your ways and sin no more; perform with soberness the work which I have commanded you.
“Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not.
“Behold the wounds which pierced my side, and also the prints of the nails in my hands and feet; be faithful, keep my commandments, and ye shall inherit the kingdom of heaven. Amen” (D&C 6:34–37).
Looking unto the Savior in every thought is, of course, another way of saying “always remember him.” As we do, we need not doubt or fear. The Savior reminded Joseph and Oliver as He reminds us that through His Atonement He has been given all power in heaven and earth (see Matthew 28:18) and has both the capacity and will to protect us and minister to our needs. We need only be faithful, and we can rely implicitly on Him.
Preceding the comforting revelation to Joseph and Oliver, the Prophet endured a poignant, painful experience that taught him to look to the Savior and not fear the opinions, pressures, and threats of men.
In June 1828 Joseph allowed Martin Harris to take the first 116 pages of the Book of Mormon manuscript from Harmony, Pennsylvania, to show to family members in Palmyra, New York. After Martin failed to return as promised, an anxious Joseph traveled by stagecoach to his parents’ home in Manchester Township, New York. The Prophet immediately sent for Martin. When Martin arrived, he admitted that he did not have the manuscript or know where it was.
Joseph exclaimed: “Oh! My God, my God. … All is lost, is lost. What shall I do? I have sinned. It is I that tempted the wrath of God by asking him for that which I had no right to ask. … Of what rebuke am I not worthy from the angel of the Most High?”
The next day the Prophet returned to Harmony. Once there, he said, “I commenced humbling myself in mighty prayer before the Lord … that if possible I might obtain mercy at his hands and be forgiven of all that I had done which was contrary to his will.”2
After chastising Joseph for fearing man more than God, the Lord told him:
“Thou art Joseph, and thou wast chosen to do the work of the Lord, but because of transgression, if thou art not aware thou wilt fall.
“But remember, God is merciful; therefore, repent of that which thou hast done which is contrary to the commandment which I gave you, and thou art still chosen, and art again called to the work” (D&C 3:9–10).
“For a time, the Lord took the Urim and Thummim and the plates from Joseph. But these things were soon restored to him. ‘The angel was rejoiced when he gave me back the Urim and Thummim,’ the Prophet recalled, ‘and said that God was pleased with my faithfulness and humility, and loved me for my penitence and diligence in prayer, in the which I had performed my duty so well as to … be able to enter upon the work of translation again.’ As Joseph moved forward in the great work before him, he was now fortified by the sweet feelings of receiving the Lord’s forgiveness and a renewed determination to do His will.”3
The Prophet’s determination to rely upon God and not fear what men could do became fixed after this experience. His life thereafter was a shining example of what it means to remember Christ by relying upon His power and mercy. Joseph expressed this understanding during his very difficult and trying incarceration at Liberty, Missouri, in these words:
“You know, brethren, that a very large ship is benefited very much by a very small helm in the time of a storm, by being kept workways with the wind and the waves.
“Therefore, dearly beloved brethren, let us cheerfully do all things that lie in our power; and then may we stand still, with the utmost assurance, to see the salvation of God, and for his arm to be revealed” (D&C 123:16–17).

President Hinckley described what happens to the heart of every missionary who commits his or her life and work to the Lord when he talked about his own missionary experiences. It was early in his mission, and he was discouraged. The work was hard, and the people were not receptive. However, there came a time when discouragement turned to commitment. For him, the beginning was a letter from his father in which he read: “Dear Gordon, I have your letter. … I have only one suggestion: Forget yourself and go to work.” In describing what happened next, he said: “I got on my knees in that little bedroom … and made a pledge that I would try to give myself unto the Lord.
“The whole world changed. The fog lifted. The sun began to shine in my life. I had a new interest. I saw the beauty of this land. I saw the greatness of the people. … Everything that has happened to me since that’s been good I can trace to that decision made in that little house” (in Mike Cannon, “Missionary Theme Was Pervasive during Visit of President Hinckley,” Church News, Sept. 9, 1995, 4).
President Hinckley continued by saying: “You want to be happy? Forget yourself and get lost in this great cause, and bend your efforts to helping people” (in Church News, Sept. 9, 1995, 4).

Would you like to share the gospel but just aren’t sure how to approach your friends? The teenagers in the Lake Butler Ward, Lake City Florida Stake, participated in a nine-week program for fellowshipping that helped them realize sharing the gospel is not as hard as it seems.
Every week they were assigned a specific activity to strengthen each other and get their nonmember friends interested in the gospel. In the ninth week the ward mission leader and his wife planned a party for the youth. The ticket required to get into the party was a nonmember friend, but after the nine-week program, that was no problem for these young missionaries.
This is the plan they followed:
Week 1: Respond positively to negative comments you hear.
Week 2: Get to be better friends with a member of the ward.
Week 3: List your positive qualities, and another you’d like to develop.
Week 4: Pray about finding a friend to fellowship.
Week 5: Plan an approach to your fellowshipping. Each day do something to let your friend know about the Church and what you believe. Invite him to the activity.
Week 6: Pray about giving your friend a Book of Mormon.
Week 7: Give your friend a Book of Mormon with marked scriptures and your testimony. Talk to him or her about what you’ve written.
Week 8: Encourage your friends to come to the party.
Week 9: The party!
To keep the youth interested in a party that was so far away, the leaders delivered clues once a week to tell what would be happening at the party. None of the teenagers really knew what was going to happen, and the clues just seemed to confuse them even more. Even when they got to the party they still didn’t know all the details. They were divided into teams and sent on a treasure hunt that included whistling Dixie, blowing up balloons, and kissing a horse—all before the other teams could finish first. It all ended with a pool party and lots of fun for everyone. It was a great way to teach the youth that missionary work isn’t as hard as it seems, and an even better way to introduce more people to the gospel.

While I was serving as stake president, my counselors and I invited a certain brother for an interview where we presented to him his calling to be the president of the stake Young Men organization. This man had not been fully active. He liked to spend his weekends, including Sundays, camping and fishing, and it was reported that he and his wife did not always obey the Word of Wisdom. There was some question as to whether we should consider him for such a position, but because of the prayerful discussions we had held in the presidency and the high council we concluded that he should be called. As we advised this brother of his appointment, he responded that he was not interested and that he did not feel worthy or qualified. We then told him how we had come to choose him over all the members of the stake. We explained that we needed a strong and capable leader of youth in our stake and that both the presidency and the high council had offered earnest prayers, asking the Lord to indicate the person who should fill the position. We said: “The answer was clear. You are the man the Lord has chosen. It is for you to decide, of course, but you do have an obligation to go home and discuss the question with your wife. The only request we make of you is that thereafter you kneel down with her and ask the Lord what he wants you to do.”

Three days later I received an unhappy telephone call from this same man. He reluctantly informed me that he would accept the position with all its implications. He gave powerful service in his calling, and when that assignment was finished, he became a member of the high council, and he has been happy about the gospel ever since.

As with the learning that accompanies the acquisition of information, there is great power in the kind of learning that comes from doing. Elder Bruce Hafen illustrated this principle when he shared an experience from his family life at a conference on family law a number of years ago.

"One of our children once was in great difficulty in his fourth-grade class." Elder Hafen related. "If he didn't complete a certain hand-made project by the next day, he would face certain disaster. After dinner, my wife, Marie, told me she had thought of a way to help him. I ushered our other children into another room for other activities, and the handicraft project began in the kitchen. Periodically, I heard outbursts from our fourth-grader, who kept tormenting his mother and insisting he wouldn't do another thing. I was ready to send him to his room and forget it, but my wife calmly proceeded with her plan.

"After about three hours, as I was tucking the other children into bed, the little builder and his mother entered the bedroom. Carrying his project as proudly as if it were a birthday cake, he invited his two brothers to come and see it. It was obvious from looking at it that he had made every stitch of it himself. He placed it on a counter and started for his bed. Then he looked back at his mother with a broad, boyish grin. He ran across the room, threw his arms around her waist, and hugged her tightly. As he grinned at her again, the two of them exchanged glances that carried great meaning. He went back to his bed, and we left the room.

"What happened?" I asked Marie. "How did you do it?" She replied that she had simply made up her mind that no matter what he said or did, she wouldn't raise her voice or lose her patience. She had just decided that leaving him was not an alternative, even if the project took all night. Then she made this significant observation: "I didn't know I had it in me."

Those kinds of experiences teach us truths about ourselves that no amount of abstract study will ever reveal. I'm confident that after that night Sister Hafen had a more complete understanding of both her own potential destiny and Heavenly Father's great patience and love for His children. Such experiences—which require that we do something—provide a more complete knowledge of who we really are.

Stephen Smyth, a 16-year-old priest in the Londonderry Branch, Scotland Glasgow Mission, recently finished second in the “Superyouth” athletic competition open to all schools in Ireland. Stephen competed in six events—high jump, swimming, 100-meter race, 1,500-meter race, basketball, and overall fitness.
Preparing himself by an hour of intensive road work and general fitness training each morning before seminary (of which he’s president), Stephen was able to rank nationally over 100 other young men from across the country who competed in the section for 16- and 17-year-olds.
“My parents have been a great influence for good in my life,” said Stephen. “They’ve always set the standard and been the perfect example for me.”
Stephen is preparing to serve a mission and is looking forward to attending BYU eventually. He is currently assistant branch clerk, assistant to the president of the priests quorum, and branch music director.
To celebrate his success, the Young Men of his branch held a fireside at which he was the guest of honor. In addition, the members of the Londonderry Branch presented him with a copy of a one-volume history of the Church.

“We didn’t expect any help when we got to Utah,” Fredrick said. “But that’s not what happened.”
“The first person we met made us feel welcome,” Esperance recalled. “She came with her family to visit our apartment. They saw how we ate, how we slept, what we worried about. It was the first time someone was concerned about how they could help.”
“She and her husband were like parents to us,” Fredrick said. “They helped us learn about the customs of this new country. They helped us find work.”
“We could tell they were Christians, and we were Christians, too,” Esperance said. “We asked if we could learn about their Church.”
And learn they did. Soon they were meeting regularly with the missionaries. “Each teaching made sense to us, especially what they called the great plan of happiness,” Esperance said. “I cried and cried when they told us we could be together as a family in eternity, and that we would see Patric again. We knew it was true.”
Fredrick and Esperance were baptized and confirmed. Joshua was baptized when he turned eight. And Joshua and Patric have been sealed to their parents, giving them the opportunity to be together when this life is through. Other family members are still learning about the gospel.

Since my wife and I didn’t believe in the dole system in any form of finance, we kept wondering how our young family could begin to become self-sufficient. It wasn’t long until we were offered an opportunity to collate and distribute advertising materials to 5,000 homes. We worked at the project after school, in the evenings, and on Saturdays. Everyone was involved in collating several pieces of advertising materials. Mom or dad assisted by driving the children to different locations and offering encouragement. The project was repeated several times. Our children were beginning to earn money, and we learned that we could have fun together while working.

Twelve-year-old Ramon placed the steel ring up around the bottom of the pear to determine its size. The ring slipped easily about it. No, Ramon thought, this pear won’t do—it’s still too small.
He tried another pear, and the ring wouldn’t fit around the fruit’s greatest width. “Good,” he said out loud to the old dog, Cleveland, lying in the shade at the bottom of the tree. Ramon picked the pear and placed it in the almost-filled sack that hung over his head and shoulder.
He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat off his face. A little breeze wound its way through the long rows of fruit trees. It felt good—but not as good as the cold lemonade his grandmother had made for him.
Ramon climbed down the ladder, placed his pickings in a basket, and sat down beside the dog. He unscrewed the lid from the canteen and took a long drink. Resting against the tree, he stroked the big dog and gazed down the length of the big orchard. From where he sat, he could count twelve baskets of fruit. “Not bad for one morning, huh, Cleveland? Grandpa Alban will be happy. He’ll have a lot of fruit for his stand today.”
The boy dug in his shirt pocket and took out a small, worn photograph. Posed beside him in the picture was his mother. He ran his finger across her countenance, and his eyes misted. It was the first time since he’d been adopted that he’d been away from her. Linsey and her husband, Peter, had taken the legal measures to make him a part of their family when he was only two years old. Now Peter was dead.
Ramon rested his head against the tree trunk and gazed down the road that wound past the orchard to his grandparents’ home. About two months before, he had ridden down that road with his mother. It had been a two-day trip by car from Horsely Springs, where he and his mother shared a small apartment.
More than once while they traveled, his mom’s eyes had welled up with tears at the thought of not seeing him for the summer. But a decision had been made after earnest prayer, and she knew that he would be in good hands with her parents. Her lack of education and experience had made the going rough for them, but a special three-month training class being offered back east would qualify her for a better-paying job. “I know I can do it, Ramon,” she assured him. “With God on our side, there isn’t anything we can’t do.”
Ramon admired and took great comfort in his mother’s courage and faith. He was trying to build up his own faith. He was sure that the pear ring on the ground beside him would easily fit around his faith, but he was confident that it would grow, just like the fruit that the old man had nurtured so well. The two young missionaries who had brought the restored gospel of Jesus Christ to him and his mother last year had promised that, with effort, it would, indeed, grow.
A little cloud of dust above the far end of the orchard told Ramon that Grandpa Alban’s flatbed truck was on its way to collect the baskets of picked fruit. Ramon warmed at the sight of his grandfather.
Grandpa Alban poked his head out the truck window as he neared, his eyes rounding at the sight of the long row of baskets brimming with fruit. “I said it before, young man, and I’ll say it again: I’ve never seen a better picker in all my days!”
Ramon chuckled and pointed to the old dog at his feet. “Well, Grandpa, I have a good helper.”
A hearty laugh burst out of Grandpa. “I figure you have a raise coming, son.”
“You pay me enough already, Grandpa.”
The old man smiled but insisted, “Didn’t your sweet mama ever tell you that it’s easier to argue with a fence post than with your grandpa? Besides,” he added, “you’ve earned it.”
“I’ll put it toward my mission,” Ramon relented with a happy enthusiasm that puzzled his grandfather.
“You really feel strong about that church you and your mama joined, don’t you? Most kids your age with money to spend would sink it into video games, movies, or whatever.”
“I won’t save it all for my mission, Grandpa,” Ramon assured him. “Ten percent of it goes to tithing, and a little more of it I’ll give you toward gas to drive me to church each Sunday.”
Grandpa shook his head. “This church of yours requires a lot of sacrifice, it seems to me.”
“The missionaries told us that sacrifice brings blessings. Like Mom is sacrificing now so she can get a better job to take care of us. It isn’t easy for either of us, but …” Ramon hesitated, searching for the words to explain. Then he said, “You have a beautiful orchard, Grandpa, with a lot of beautiful fruit.” He held up the sizing ring. “Almost every piece of fruit I held this ring to was too big to go through. You had to sacrifice, Grandpa, for this orchard to grow the way it has. You had to spend a lot of time working and tending it—” Ramon picked up a large piece of fruit from the basket—“but look what your sacrifice brings.”
Grandpa smiled. “Hey, Ramon, who’s teaching who here?”
That night the high-pitched whine of a mosquito awoke Grandpa. He slapped at it, then lay waiting for sleep to again overtake him. He noticed a light shining beneath Ramon’s door across the hall. Lifting himself up on an elbow, Grandpa Alban gazed at it curiously. The creak of the bed awoke Grandma. “What is it, honey?” she asked.
“That light under Ramon’s door. It’s—” he glanced at the clock—“it’s after eleven o’clock! What could Ramon be doing at this time of night?”
Grandma smiled. “He does the same thing every night.”
“Does what, Francie?”
“Reads.”
“Reads?”
“From a book of scriptures he has, called the Book of Mormon. Go back to sleep dear, he’ll be just fine.”
How can anyone work all day and then stay up so late reading? he wondered as he drifted off to sleep.
The screech of a hawk circling above cut through the silence of the noonday sky like a paring knife. Ramon took the handkerchief from his pocket and tied it about his head to keep the sweat from running down into his eyes. He climbed down the ladder, filled a basket, and picked up the container of lemonade. He was about to take a swallow, when he spied what looked like his grandfather seated under a tree at the far end of the orchard. That’s unusual, he thought. Grandpa never just sits. He’s always busy doing something. Maybe he’s sick.
Ramon walked quickly to where his grandfather sat. Grandpa Alban was gazing off into the hills, his eyes wet with tears. When Ramon made his presence known, Grandpa tried to mend his composure.
“Are you all right, Grandpa?”
“Actually, no,” he said, his open candor taking Ramon aback. “I’ve just been pretending far too long that I am all right.”
Ramon sat down beside his grandfather. After a heavy silence, Grandpa went on. “I’m a proud man, Ramon. I always have been, I guess—too proud to ever own up to my mistakes. On top of that, I’ve always figured it would be too hard and painful to change. But something you said yesterday got me thinking. …”
What can I say? Ramon wondered. I don’t really know what he’s talking about. The boy offered a silent prayer for Heavenly Father’s help. Suddenly repentance and the Lord’s great plan of redemption that the missionaries had taught came to Ramon’s mind, and words came to his lips. He was so moved that he began to cry. This, in turn, deeply touched the old man, and he clung to every word that his grandson spoke.
It was two days later, just after Ramon had loaded two baskets of fruit into a customer’s car, that Ramon’s sapling faith began to flower. As he turned back toward the fruit stand, he saw a look on his grandfather’s face that he had never seen before. It was a look of sweet resolve, of courage. “What is it, Grandpa?”
“Would you mind if I went to church with you next Sunday, Ramon? I’d like to ask the missionaries to come talk to me.”
Later that afternoon, as Ramon picked fruit, he paused and gazed at the ring he held in his hand. He wondered if it would still fit around his faith—and his joy. He doubted it.

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

I got my first real job when I was about 13 years old. I was a newspaper delivery boy. I still remember riding my bike around my neighborhood in Salt Lake City every evening, throwing papers onto my neighbors’ front steps. I didn’t make a whole lot of money at it, but each month when I received my wages, there was no question that I would pay tithing. My parents had set the example of paying tithing, and I knew it was a commandment from the Lord (see D&C 119:3–4).
I remember attending tithing settlement as a youngster with my mother and father. It was such a natural thing to me to visit with the bishop and to declare myself a full-tithe payer. Even as I got older and started earning more money, I always paid tithing first.

Eliza felt like she had butterflies in her stomach as she stood outside the school gym. She had spent the last month getting ready to try out for the school volleyball team. And today was finally the tryout!
She took a deep breath as she pushed open the gym door. Don’t be nervous, she told herself. Don’t be nervous!
Eliza might not be the best player, but she’d been practicing every day with her sister. She’d improved a lot!
“Eliza!” her friend Jada called from the other side of the gym. “Want to practice with me?”
They found a volleyball and passed it back and forth to each other. It helped Eliza feel a bit better. I can do this! she thought.
When the coach finally arrived, Eliza and Jada joined the other girls in the center of the gym. The coach welcomed them, and then tryouts began!
First they did some warm-ups. Then they split into teams and practiced hitting the ball to each other. They ended with a game of volleyball. Eliza felt good when she earned her team a point.
Two hours later, Eliza was back home and exhausted. She fell on the couch, ready to rest.
“How did it go?” Mom asked.
“I think it went OK,” Eliza said. She still felt a little nervous. “There was one girl who was really good. She’ll be on the team for sure!”
“When do you find out if you made it?” Mom asked.
“Tomorrow after school. They’ll have a list in the gym.”
Eliza could hardly wait for tomorrow! After dinner, she went straight to bed. In 19 hours I’ll know if I made the team! She knew it was going to be a long night.
As soon as school was over the next day, Eliza hurried to the gym. There it was! The list of girls who made the team was hanging on the wall. Lots of girls were crowded around it.
Eliza rushed over to the list and read it quickly. Then she read it again and felt her stomach drop. Her name wasn’t there! The girl who was really good made the team. Jada also made the team. A lot of her other friends made it too.
But I wasn’t good enough, she thought.
After going home and telling Mom her news, Eliza hid in her bedroom for the rest of the day. She didn’t want to see anyone.
She had just decided to stay in her room forever when she smelled something. It smelled so good! Eliza tried to focus on the book she was reading, but it was too hard. What was that smell? It was something familiar …
Eliza couldn’t ignore it any longer. She sneaked into the kitchen to investigate.
Key lime pie! That was her favorite dessert!
“Why are we having pie?” Eliza asked her dad.
“It’s not just a pie,” Dad said. “It’s a try pie.”
“What?”
“It’s for you. We’re going to celebrate your tryout.”
Eliza’s stomach dropped. “Didn’t Mom tell you? I didn’t make the team. I failed.”
“Part of learning new things means not always succeeding. That can be scary. But the important thing is you still tried. We think that’s worth celebrating!”
“Really?” Eliza asked.
“Really!” Dad said.
That night, Eliza and her family ate the pie. Eliza piled lots of whipped cream on her slice. It was delicious!
“Thanks for the pie,” Eliza said, with her mouth full.
“You’re welcome,” Mom said. “We’re proud of you for trying something hard!”

“Lindsay, what’s going to happen to me?” I asked my sister, as my frail body lay limp in the emergency room bed.
Lindsay replied through her tears, “I’m not sure, but I think it’s time for you to trust in Heavenly Father.”
I sat back in my bed while I rested in a state of confusion, worry, and mostly panic. I had finally reached the breaking point.
After five long, difficult years of self-worth issues and depression, anorexia had a firm grip on my whole soul. My worn-out spirit had long given in to destructive thoughts and lost hopes, but it had only been in the past year that my body had succumbed to anorexia’s deadly effects as well.
My weight was perilously low and continuing to drop. Astoundingly, I still felt I was “chubby.” It was only when I couldn’t keep any food down or stand up without losing consciousness that my concerned friends rushed me to the hospital. Within the next few days, my secret had blown up in my face, and my family insisted that I receive treatment.
At first I did not understand the seriousness of the problem. I had to trust in the love and counsel of others. I couldn’t see it in myself because I had years of practice brushing off the worries and advice of others who thought I was losing too much weight. As with many other people suffering from eating disorders, I wasn’t willing to see my problem until I was forced to by medical professionals.
I would love to say that once I confronted my problem every day was easier and that all I had to do was eat. However, it was quite the contrary. Every week was filled with doctor appointments, planning meals with a nutritionist, group and individual therapy, and weekly appointments with my bishop. I needed to set aside a time to eat every day, and I learned that I needed to always be accountable to another person for what I ate. I needed to gain the trust of others again, and they needed to gain my trust so I did not feel invaded and constantly questioned about my eating habits.
My biggest problem was that, although I felt the support of many people around me, I thought I had to fight the battle alone.
“What do you want me to do?” I shouted at my therapist. “It’s like you want me to be perfect or something! I can’t do this! I can’t just sit here and tell you why I feel like I’m fat, or why I hate myself. I don’t know why. All I know is that I just can’t do this anymore! It’s not worth it because no matter what I say or do, it’ll never be good enough to fix all of this. I’m just … broken!”
My therapist let me cry it out before she said, “You’re right. You can’t do this on your own, and no matter what you do, it won’t be good enough. You’re never going to be perfect …”
She paused to let her final thought sink in and went on to say, “… on your own. The Savior has already won this battle. Hand it over to Him, and He’ll heal you. Just hand it over, Katie.”
The words pierced my broken heart, and the Spirit filled me and testified that what she had said was absolutely true. My healing process had begun.
Some days were harder than others. On those days, I felt a deeper desire to seek the Lord’s help and to plead with Him to rid me of this terrible disorder. I knew He could do it, but I also knew I needed to trust in Him first.
I began to write all my feelings in a small journal that I kept with me throughout the day. The beginning entries contained words like insignificance, intimidation, and frustration. Once the day was through, I would put my book down in front of me, tear out the pages, and pray for those feelings to be recognized and changed. Then I’d throw the pages away and make a new entry of what I felt. Those new entries had words like hope, strength, and love. I had begun to literally and figuratively place my trial and those detrimental feelings at the Savior’s feet. That’s when the pain began to subside.
As the days became weeks and the weeks became months, I began to feel the companionship of the Spirit. I learned how to distinguish between revelations from the Lord and the harsh feelings and thoughts of the world. I felt unity within my family as we pulled together to strengthen not only me but one another. Yet, most of all, I developed my friendship, my very best friendship, with my Savior. The calming influence of the Atonement was, and is still, taking place in my life. Although this experience continues to influence my life and will continue for years to come, I now see myself not only for who I am but mostly for who I will become. I know now that this is how our Father in Heaven sees us, and what a sight that is!

Several years ago, I went on my first assignment as a newly called General Authority Seventy. Elder Ronald A. Rasband of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles was my senior companion and it was a chance for me to observe and to learn as he presided over a stake conference in Minnesota. On Saturday, we had a meeting with many wonderful sisters from the auxiliaries in the stake. The chapel and cultural hall were filled as these sisters came, anxious to be taught and edified by an apostle of the Lord. The teaching by Elder Rasband was inspired and focused on Christ. At a certain point, while Elder Rasband was conducting this session in a question-and-answer format, I felt a strong spiritual impression as a sister asked a question, recalling a personal experience that would have been a perfect response. At that very moment, while Elder Rasband was standing at the pulpit, he turned to me and asked, “Elder Palmer, is there something you want to say?” I marveled and asked myself, “How did he do that?”
A couple of years later while in a question-and-answer session with leaders and wives in Johannesburg—led by Elder David A. Bednar, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles—I once again had the exact same experience. A long time after the meeting had started and while sitting quietly some distance away, I again felt a spiritual prompting regarding a question asked and felt an impression that it should be shared but did not want to interrupt. At that precise moment Elder Bednar turned to me and asked if there was something I wished to add. Once again, after giving my response, I silently asked myself, “How did he know to do that? How did he know at the very instant an impression had been received by someone else, that he should turn to them and invite them to share it?” The next day I told Elder Bednar what had happened and asked, “How did you do that?” He simply smiled and said, “You know the answer.”
Earlier in the week, we had been together in Kinshasa for an amazing young adult meeting, which filled every room in the stake center and overflowed into a large outdoor seating area. The questions were excellent and the teaching so inspired. I was sitting off to one side when—during the second hour of the meeting—Elder Bednar came over and quietly whispered for me to go into one of the other rooms where young adults were watching by broadcast, and ask if anyone had a question they would like to ask Elder Bednar. I entered one of the rooms where they were reverently watching, and as I began to ask if anyone had a question, they pointed to a bishop who was walking up to me and who then handed me half a dozen pages of questions he had already collected from all the rooms. I was astonished and asked why he did that (knowing no one had told him to do so). He simply said he knew we would be coming and felt it was the right thing to do. The Lord is in charge and through His Spirit clearly orchestrated all aspects of that extraordinary experience with thousands of excited young adults so anxious to see and learn from an Apostle of the Lord.

Every year, my husband and I and both our extended families go on a camping trip to celebrate the end-of-year holiday season. We choose a site that can accommodate our numbers and then camp from Christmas Eve until just after New Year’s Day.
These camps are a wonderful time for us to strengthen our family bonds. Because most of us are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, these camps also strengthen our testimony of Christ and of His Church as we celebrate His birth.
At the end of 2020, we found a site in Bikenibeu Village, Tarawa, which has a large mwaneaba (a traditional meetinghouse) that our whole family could sleep under. As always, my dear sister-in-law, Meteta, joined us in the camping festivities.
Meteta lived with my husband and me and, at 71 years old, she was more like a mother to us. She was still quite healthy and active, except that she walked on crutches as a result of a surgery she had 20 years earlier. Meteta loved our Christmas camping trips and eagerly participated in our family games and activities.
On the 31st of December, a few hours before our New Year’s celebration, Meteta was so excited. She took an early shower, got dressed and then sat down in the mwaneaba, ready to enjoy the night. Everyone else was rushing around, getting ready, too.
Then, in the midst of all the preparations, Meteta quietly said to me, "I have a burning pain in my chest." I dropped everything I was doing, called my husband and another sister-in-law over, and soon several of us were trying to help her.
It all happened so fast. About fifteen minutes later, Meteta started to gasp for air. My husband and son gave her a priesthood blessing while we waited for the ambulance. Sadly, the doctors couldn’t do much more for her. Soon after we arrived at the hospital, our Meteta was gone.
That evening, the world stopped for us. As we slowly made our way back to the campsite—to share the tragic news and inform everyone that we had to break camp—my husband and I reflected on Meteta’s final moments. The doctors had done their best to revive her, and those around us tried to give us hope, but we felt a strange kind of peace that told us it was Meteta’s time to go.
Our faith in Jesus Christ and our testimony of His gospel also helped the rest of our family accept what happened. We had just spent a week in both worldly and spiritual celebration, but as our holiday camp transitioned into a funeral, we tuned the world out completely.
We mourned the loss of our dear Meteta—she had been a great source of stability in our home, and we would have to make many adjustments without her—but in the wake of her passing, we talked more about the meaning of our own lives.
We focused on our Saviour and on His divine gift of exaltation. We expressed deep gratitude for His atoning sacrifice and His victory over the grave. It was a time of spiritual renewal for all of us. As we worked together to organise and prepare for Meteta’s earthly farewell, our thoughts were on Heavenly Father’s plan of salvation, and on His Son, who has made it possible for us to reunite with Meteta again, one day.
Our family holiday camps are always boisterous events, full of music and dance, talent shows, laughter and fun, but this particular Christmas, the happiness of our festivities seemed to dim in the light of true joy—the joy that our Saviour Jesus Christ brought when He was born into this world to give us life.
Our understanding of His gospel is what brought our family peace after Meteta’s passing. It helped us to remember the real meaning of Christmas.