Gospel Story Finder

I was baptized in Mexico on 26 June 1976 with my son Carlos León, whom we call Kali. We quickly became accustomed to the many principles of our new faith and desired to participate fully.
I remember well our first fast Sunday. My daughter Jovita, who was already a member of the Church, explained what we should do. We were to go without food or drink for two consecutive meals in a spirit of prayer. In return the Lord promised to bless our family.
Around 11:00 A.M. that day, Kali climbed to the roof of the house—about nine meters above the ground—with his younger brother. While lying on the roof, peeking over the edge, he fell. Halfway down, he grabbed some power lines and started to swing. But feeling his hands burning, he let go and landed on the sidewalk.
Although others immediately ran to help him, I could not run, cry out, or do anything. The only thing I could manage was to fall on my knees and pray with all the strength of my soul. I remember saying, “My son! Father, let Thy will be done.”
At that moment, I clearly heard a voice say to me, “Nothing has happened to your son; he is alive.” When I felt that clear, soft voice penetrate my whole being, I arose unafraid. I knew it was the Spirit I had heard. I felt calm.
Just as I finished praying, my younger son approached me. “Mama, don’t cry. Nothing has happened to Kali; he is alive,” he said, using the same words I had just heard.
When everything had calmed down and we had comforted Kali and been assured that he was all right, I told him, “God has saved your life.”
We finished our fast that day and gave thanks to God for the miracle that Kali was unharmed.
Kali suffered no lasting effects from his accident. When he was old enough he shared the gospel message as a full-time missionary in the Mexico Mérida Mission.

Two years ago, when I was 14, I went to visit some relatives in another city in southern Germany. I was traveling alone by train, so I was a bit nervous but also excited. After my visit, I got on the train to go home. It was getting late at night as we approached the station where I was supposed to get off the train. I looked out the window and saw the station, but I suddenly had the feeling that I should stay seated.
Though the train wouldn’t be traveling on (this was the final station), I wanted to get home because it was getting late and I was nervous. But the impression to wait was very distinct. So I did it, though I wondered why.
After a few minutes I finally did get out. I had walked only a short distance when a policeman stopped me and said, “You were lucky. If you had come five minutes earlier, you would have been in the middle of a big fight.”
There had been a soccer game that evening between two archrivals. Some fans of one team had been in the front of the train and some fans of the other team in back. When they had gotten off, a couple of them had started provoking one another, and then everyone had started fighting. I later heard that by the time the police came to break it up, over a dozen people had been injured and taken to the hospital. The police had then blocked everything off and taken all the suspects with them.
One policeman came over to me and put his hand on my shoulder, saying, “Wow. If you had been there, we probably could have hauled you off as well.” I realized that if I hadn’t followed that impression, something very bad could have happened to me.
As I went home, I prayed to Heavenly Father and told Him that I was thankful that I had listened to the Holy Ghost and hadn’t gotten off the train. I knew that He had protected me.

There was a beautiful moment when Dimick Huntington in a shoe shop was working on the Prophet’s boots. The Prophet recounted things Dimick had done for him, mostly physical and comforting things—rowing the boat across the Mississippi until his hands were blistered, carrying messages, and as the scriptures have it, “hewing wood and drawing water.” The Prophet expressed gratitude and finally said to Dimick, “Ask of me what you will, and it shall be given you, even if it be to the half of my kingdom.” Dimick did not want to impoverish the Prophet. He asked something else. “Joseph,” he said with his whole soul, “Joseph, I desire that where you and your father’s house are [meaning in eternity] there I and my father’s house may be also.” The Prophet put his head down for a moment as if in meditation, and then looked up. “Dimick, in the name of Jesus Christ, it shall be even as you ask.”31

Youth in the Mililani Hawaii Stake were up against the wall during their youth conference. In two-and-a-half hours they painted 38,000 square feet of cement fence along the Haleiwa Beach Park, on Oahu. They even restored the original Hawaiian graphics.
Along with workshops, speakers, and dances, there was another unique activity at the conference. The conference theme was Valiant Youth of Today, taken from Alma 53:20, and at one point “Captain Helaman” sent the youth off to “battle” just like the 2,000 stripling warriors. The battle consisted of dividing into groups and finding their way to various outdoor stations where they fought against evil by doing righteous activities like writing letters of appreciation to parents, underlining scriptures on faith and courage, helping each other through mazes, etc.
Just like the stripling warriors, not one soul was lost.

It was the morning of January 6, 1896. Ten-year-old Emma Jean was awakened from a deep sleep by ringing bells and cries of joy and exultation. She peeped out from under her warm blanket. It was still the winter she had said goodnight to just last evening. But a new deep snow had covered the yard and bent the tree limbs until some of them almost touched the ground.
Emma Jean rubbed her eyes, wondering about the jubilant sounds outside. She finally threw back the covers and moved softly toward the window just to see. As the little girl reached the window, she could hear even more clearly the joyous sounds that had wakened her. What can they mean? she thought.
Emma Jean put on her blue flannel robe, tiptoed to the door of her room, and opened it noiselessly. She did not want to awaken her parents if they were still asleep. But they were not asleep. They were in the hall, laughing and hugging each other.
“So you’re awake, too, darling!” her father greeted her. “I knew you couldn’t sleep through all that cheering.”
“But what is it all for, Papa?” Emma Jean asked.
Papa picked her up and whirled her around. “We’re a state at last!” he announced, beaming. “Just think, Emma Jean! We have always felt that we were part of the country. Now we really are!”
Then Emma Jean’s mother added, “Darling, our home has always been in the United States—but in a territory. Day before yesterday, President Cleveland declared we could be a state—like Idaho and Colorado.”
Emma Jean nodded. When her cousin, Lottie, had visited last fall, she had boasted that she lived in a state and that Idaho had a special flag, not just the Stars and Stripes, but an official Idaho flag. Lottie had also bragged, “Our teacher says we can have a state bird and flower too.”
Emma Jean loved Utah. She could not bear that only her cousin’s state had such special distinctions. She remembered the stories about the pioneers. “We have pioneers!” she defended.
“Oh, so do we!” Lottie had replied haughtily.
“We have a special bird, too, the seagull. It helped save the pioneers their first year in the valley. And we have a special flower—the sego lily. Do you know about them?”
“Of course I do!” Lottie replied. “But still, Utah isn’t a state.”
Emma Jean did not like to argue with her cousin, so she did not pursue the subject. She had meant to ask her parents why Idaho was a state and Utah wasn’t, but somehow she had never gotten around to it.
Her father’s voice brought her back to the present. As if he knew her thoughts, he said, “We have always known that someday we would become a state, Emma Jean, but the requirements for each territory are different. Listen to those bells! After we get dressed, we’ll go to the Tabernacle, where there is to be a special birthday program. I heard that Professor Evan Stephens has composed a song especially for the occasion. Its title is ‘Utah, We Love Thee,’ and a children’s chorus has been trained to sing it today.”
“Oh!” Emma Jean cried, her eyes shining, “I wish I had known about the new song! I don’t think Idaho has a special song like that.”
“Don’t waste time feeling superior to our neighbor state,” Emma Jean’s father admonished. “Just hurry and get dressed. It’s already past eight and a parade begins at nine o’clock.”
“A parade! Oh, I’ll be ready!” Emma Jean cried as she ran to her room and began to scramble into her long black stockings. She decided to wear her new Christmas shoes with the gold stars embroidered on the cloth uppers. And around her long brown braids she fastened red, white, and blue ribbons.
The family could still hear the bells ringing all through their hasty breakfast. Afterward they wrapped themselves in warm coats, scarves, and caps. Gaily they started uptown with the neighbors who were hurrying along. As Emma Jean skipped down the snowy sidewalk, she was glad that she had put bright ribbons in her hair. Many of her friends also wore patriotic colored ribbons.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of marching music. The parade had started. Emma Jean and her parents rushed with the other onlookers to the curb. In the distance they could see the procession moving toward them. As the marchers neared, she saw General Robert T. Burton, the parade marshal, in his blue cavalry uniform astride his horse. He was followed by the troops and band from Fort Douglas. The stirring music added to the excitement of the occasion. She was sure the new governor, Heber Wells, waved to her as he passed in his open horse-drawn carriage. Eagerly she watched the passing floats that represented the various trades and industries of the new state.
After the parade the family continued its walk to the Tabernacle. Emma Jean was certain that nothing could surpass the spectacle of marching men and bands that she had just seen. Not even ZCMI with red, white, and blue bunting fanned across the storefront and the large five-pointed star with the number “45” atop the building could erase the image of the parade from her mind. But when they entered the Tabernacle she gasped in wonderment. Stretched across the ceiling was the largest American flag she had ever seen. In the field of forty-four stars a forty-fifth one had been cut out to represent the new state. Through this hole gleamed a bright light from ingeniously arranged electric bulbs.
Her father lifted Emma Jean up so that she could see better. “That’s the largest flag in the United States,” he said. “Each one of the stripes is six feet wide. Workers at the ZCMI overall factory made it and it required eight strong men to carry it over here.”
Emma Jean’s mother said, “Look at all the beautiful red, white, and blue streamers running from the flag to the gallery.”
Emma Jean nodded. Then she saw the huge eagle on the top of the organ pipes and the electrically lit “Utah” sign just below the national emblem.
She listened quietly to the governor and other important speakers, but what she liked best was the children’s chorus.
Later Emma Jean’s father turned to her mother. “Are you worn out, Louise?” he asked. “Or do you want to go to the grand inaugural ball? I think it will be worth seeing.”
“Oh, I would love to go!” Emma Jean’s mother answered with spirit. “How about you, Emma Jean?”
“Oh yes, please, Mama!” Emma Jean cried enthusiastically. Then she added hopefully, “I’m not at all tired.”
Her mother smiled knowingly. “We’ll see …” She turned to her husband. “Why don’t you go down to the City and County Building to hear the legislature while Emma Jean and I go home. She can take a nap. Then when you come home, we can go to the ball.”
That evening, as Emma Jean and her parents walked back uptown, Father told them about the legislature. A proclamation by Governor Wells was read by James T. Hammond, the new secretary of state. Then Governor Wells read his inaugural address, in which he singled out the women of the state for compliments.
At last they reached the Salt Lake Theatre where the grand ball was to be held. Emma Jean grew excited when she heard the strains of music coming from the building. She was happy to see her father purchase three seventy-five-cent tickets for the loges because they would be able to see better than from the gallery.
All the seats on the first floor had been covered over with smooth flooring right up to the stage so there was lots of room for dancing. Emma Jean saw flags draped everywhere and the large electric one over the archway of the stage. She watched Governor Wells escort his mother to the gubernatorial box and then, with his wife on his arm, lead the grand march.
“Oh, Mama, look at all the elegant dresses the beautiful women are wearing. Where did they all come from?”
Her mother smiled, “I suppose most of the ladies had a feeling statehood was not far away. Many of their husbands are politicians, and they knew statehood would soon be granted. I think they were prepared. Just seeing such lovely things is a treat, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Father agreed, “we can enjoy beautiful things without owning them. Isn’t that so, Emma Jean?”
Emma Jean agreed. “And just think what I can tell Lottie.”
“But no state flag,” her father teased.
Emma Jean shook her head, “There will be someday. But today I am seeing our state born!”
As the family made its way home, the moonlight sparkled on the glistening snow. Emma Jean was grateful that she had been old enough to see the flags and lights and beautiful gowns and to hear the bells and cheers and the special music that welcomed the newborn state. This was something she could tell her children and grandchildren!

Soon after my 18th birthday I felt the weight of my father’s hands upon my head as he gave me a special blessing. This was occasioned by my entrance into the military during World War II. My father anticipated my apprehensions about leaving home and becoming involved in the business of fighting. So in the blessing he gave me reassurance. He also admonished me to rely upon the Lord and to keep the commandments. Specifically, he told me to live the Word of Wisdom (avoid the use of tobacco and alcohol) and to maintain the moral standards of the Church. Then he promised me that if I would do all of these things, I would return home safe, whole, and unstained by the world.
Throughout my stint in the army, the words of my father remained vivid in my mind and heart. Many times I was enticed to live less than the Latter-day Saint kind of life. But, each time temptation presented itself, the promise of returning home safe and well resounded in my ears. I wanted to draw claim upon the blessings cited by my father. In due time the pronounced blessings and more were mine; I had written my own blessing.

All of Moonta’s friends, even children much younger than he, knew how to skate. But for four long years there had been no ice except during a time when Moonta was ill and had to stay in bed. Moonta yearned for a chance to learn to skate as well as his champion parents, and finally a big freeze came. Moonta was out on the ice long before anyone else in the village of Wierum, at the edge of the North Sea. His eagerness and impatience to skate led Moonta into all kinds of exciting adventures.
Illustrations by Nancy Grossman give a genuine feeling of the Dutch atmosphere.
Meindert DeJong was winner of the 1954 Newbery Award for The Wheel on the School and of the Hans Christian Andersen Award in 1969 for Journey to Peppermint Street. Both of these excellent books are memorable, powerful stories about the Netherlands.

Many of the most important lessons Robert learned as a child came from the example of his parents and from his experiences in the Queens Ward. As deacons quorum president, Robert learned to respect his priesthood leaders after an experience with the bishop. At that time, the ward met in the Citizen’s League Hall. The sacrament table was on the main floor in front of the stage. The deacons used to take the sacrament trays, climb up onto the stage, put the trays away, and then run and jump off the stage, grab another tray, and repeat the process until all the trays were put away. “I came sailing off of that stage,” says Elder Hales, “and our new bishop was standing there. He caught me in flight. I said, ‘Well, everyone else is doing it,’ and he said, ‘Yes, but you are the president of the deacons quorum.’ The bishop said he wanted the sacrament taken care of properly, with reverence. That was when I began to learn an important lesson. I’ve appreciated priesthood leaders who have taken the time to teach me.”

Returning from serving in the Thailand Mission, Sister Phonphongrat worked for a publishing company for five years. But then she began to feel that she wanted to do something to serve others more. She applied for a job in the Phanat-Nikhom refugee camp in Cholburi, which prepares refugees from Southeast Asia for a new life. Some of these refugees have sponsors in the United States and need to learn American customs and culture.
“The camp administrator wanted to hire someone who knew the English language well,” she recalls. “When I went for an interview, I told them that my English wasn’t very good, but that I knew about American culture. I said that I wanted the refugees most of all to know that I loved them, that they were important, and that they were children of God. The interviewer looked at me and asked, ‘What are you? A Mormon?’ But I got the job.”
Refugees are not Sister Phonphongrat’s only pupils. She has taught both seminary and institute classes. “As a seminary student I learned the importance of keeping a journal and studying the scriptures,” she recalls. “I always write out the scriptures I want to remember and use them to guide me in my daily life.”
Since her baptism, Sister Phonphongrat has received her temple endowment and patriarchal blessing. Both experiences have been sources of great strength for her. “They are something I can refer to, something I can get strength from. It used to bother me that I wasn’t married, but now I know I have to live the commandments, be active in the Church, and live the gospel principles as best I can. If I do, everything will be all right. I feel I have a work to do.”

When the COVID-19 pandemic disrupted my work as an immigration consultant, I sought to dedicate my time to the Lord. I applied to serve as a service missionary and temple worker. During this time, I also prayed for my daughter, who wanted to study in Canada. In the celestial room of the temple, I received the clear inspiration: “Everything is ready; go with faith.”
God provided miracles. My ex-husband agreed to pay my daughter’s school fees, and a missionary helped us find a place to live in Canada. I learned that as I drew near to God, He truly drew near to me (Doctrine and Covenants 88:63).

Sometimes service requires long periods of time and much patience and faith. Sister Craet of the St. Niklaas Branch, Antwerp Belgium Stake, suffered a brain hemorrhage and fell into a coma. Sister Poula Buyse, the Relief Society president, immediately arranged for people to take turns staying with Sister Craet. As the weeks went by, some visitors became discouraged, thinking Sister Craet would never recover. So Sister Buyse began to stay longer and longer with Sister Craet, talking to her, reading to her, and singing hymns.
Sister Craet did eventually regain consciousness—but she was partially paralyzed and could not speak clearly. Her road to recovery was slow and painful. Sister Buyse cared for her when nursing personnel were absent, giving her company, love, and hope. Sister Buyse did more than talk about charity in Relief Society; she lived it.

Illustration by J. Beth Jepson
I’d finally made it: I was a high-school senior. Now I had to prepare for the next step in my life: college. I knew that I wanted to major in music education with an emphasis in strings. While looking for colleges, I started to search local universities and found one that had a very good music education program.
My uncle was a professor at a public university, so I sought advice from him. I told him about the university and its excellent music program. His answer startled me: “Will that university support you spiritually? Will you graduate from that university with a stronger or weaker testimony than you have now?” He then shared a scripture with me that says that we are to “seek learning, even by study and also by faith” (D&C 88:118).
With these new ideas floating around in my head, I looked up the institute programs that the local universities had to offer. They were basically nonexistent. I would have been in a vast academic jungle of knowledge but in a spiritual desert. This was frustrating for me because deadlines were approaching and I needed to pick universities to apply to. I prayed and fasted as I searched for a school that would be right for me.
One Sunday in sacrament meeting, a sister talked about a music school out of state. Leaving the state had never crossed my mind before. I went home and excitedly looked up this new school. I also looked into their institute program, and they had a lot of students in their institute program at that university. They also had a strong music program. This felt right.
To my astonishment, I’d found the college for me! This experience showed me that prayers are answered—but on Heavenly Father’s time. Sometimes we have to wait for an answer.
I know that it’s important to seek learning by both study and faith. I’m grateful that my uncle reminded me of the importance of growing spiritually in college as well as academically. I’m excited about my college choice and can’t wait to see what the experience brings!

How well I remember the challenges confronting the youth in the ward over which I once presided as a bishop. One evening a lovely teenage girl came to my office with her boyfriend to talk things over with me. The two of them were very much in love, and temptation was beginning to get the best of them.

As we counseled together, each made a pledge to the other to resist temptation and keep uppermost in their minds the goal of a temple marriage. I suggested a course of action to follow and then felt impressed to say: “If you ever find yourselves in a position of compromise and need additional strength, you call me, regardless of the hour.”

One morning at 1:00 a.m., the telephone rang and a voice said: “Bishop, this is Susan. Remember how you asked me to call if I found myself being tempted? Well, Bishop, I’m in that situation.” I asked where she was, and she described a popular parking spot in the Salt Lake Valley. She and her fiancé had walked to a nearby phone booth to make the call. The setting wasn’t ideal for providing counsel, but the need was great, and the young couple was receptive.

I won’t mention how often Susan called. However, when the mailman delivered her wedding announcement to our home and Sister Monson read, “Mr. and Mrs. Jones request the pleasure of your company at the wedding reception of their daughter, Susan,” she sighed, “Thank heaven!” When I noticed the small print at the bottom, which read, “Married in the Salt Lake Temple,” I said silently, “Thank heaven for the strength of Latter-day Saint youth.”

In the middle of August, my family had the opportunity to go through the Mount Timpanogos Utah Temple during the open house. Everything was so beautiful and peaceful. I felt very close to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
While I was walking through the bride’s room, I paused for a moment and gazed into the mirror. As I looked, although I am just 14, I could see myself in the future, wearing a beautiful wedding gown and a big smile.
When I walked out of the room, I looked back for a quick second, remembering the woman in the mirror, and I knew this was the place where I was going to be married, in the temple, close to my Father in Heaven.

Sister A. J. Hough, also of the Kettering Ward, tells of how emphasis on For the Strength of Youth has helped her be a better parent: “Having three teenagers, I wanted to ensure that I, too, was living the standards completely. I was keen to find ways I could ‘raise the bar’ and set a good example. I decided on the section on ‘Sabbath Day Observance’ and have set myself new goals to improve the example I am personally. I hope I can be a better influence to those I love the most—my family. We now use the booklet during family home evening. And whether we’re being creative with our family activities or planning ahead to fully observe the Sabbath, we use these standards to guide us.”

Growing up, I had only one goal in mind; it was that of becoming a professional bull rider. I worked as hard as I could at the time to reach that goal. Working towards that goal required a lot of hard work, and it did not come without cost. After graduating from high school, I went to work farming for some neighbors. There was plenty of work to do, and I could earn extra money to put into my efforts of realizing my dreams. I had decided at that point that I was more destined to be a bull rider than a missionary for the Lord. I felt that the time frame for me to serve a mission had passed. One day as I traveled back and forth hauling wheat to market, a storm was on the horizon. If we did not beat the pending rain, we would get behind. Getting behind meant other things would also have to be put on hold or not get taken care of. I was traveling in haste, and for one moment everything seemed perfect, but the next moment everything changed. Something caused the truck to die. As it died, it was going quickly too far to the side of the road. With all my might I steered the truck away from the edge of the road only to have it go uncontrolled to a gutter on the other side of the road. As we went into the gutter and the truck turned on its side, something happened beyond my control. I don’t even know what happened. The next thing I remember, the truck was on its wheels and back on the road. A very loud voice in my mind was yelling, “You should have been on your mission.”

Arguing with my mind for the next few days was not a pleasant experience. Being on a mission would ruin my chances of becoming a professional bull rider. However, inside the cab of a tractor and all alone, I took time to be still. I knew what the Spirit had told me to do, so I asked for Heavenly Father’s help in knowing how to find the courage to do it. It would be way out of my comfort zone to serve a mission. I didn’t feel prepared. I was scared of the possibility of being sent to a strange land or, worse yet, have to learn a new language. However, over the next few weeks I came to know that it was Heavenly Father’s desire that I go, and that He would prepare the way for me to do so.

I gave into the will of our Heavenly Father. I never rode another bull. And I served a mission for the Lord. That turned out to be a challenge that is blessing my life endlessly.

I guess that we had the most fun one day when Mom went visiting teaching. She left Daddy to take care of us. He was busy in his study, so we looked for something fun to do until Mom got home. Hans opened a cupboard and took out a big can of flour. He took off the lid and showed it to me. It looked like something fun to play with, so we took it into the living room, where he poured it all onto the carpet. Then we rubbed it in big circles. If felt soft and nice. Hans rubbed a white circle around one of his eyes. He looked so funny! Mom came home right after that, and she couldn’t get mad when she saw how funny he looked. She just got her camera and took a picture of us.

Because of the shifting population, ward boundaries were reorganized. Parts of three wards were combined into one ward, and I was called as bishop. I had a few days to think about counselors. The first name came quickly and the Spirit confirmed it. But I wasn’t immediately sure who the other counselor should be.
I considered several younger men in the new ward, but I didn’t know them well. It seemed to me that we needed them more in the Young Men organization.
I knew an older man, Larry Morgan, who had lived in the neighborhood for a long time. In fact, he had been a youth leader when I was a teenager. Now he was 76. I felt prompted to talk with him. “Maybe he’ll help me become better acquainted with some of the people I don’t know,” I thought.
He was standing in the driveway when I arrived at his home, and without a word spoken, I knew Larry was to be the other counselor. I visited with him for a few minutes; then I returned home and called the stake president. That Sunday the bishopric was sustained, with Larry as second counselor.
Larry was soft-spoken and deliberate in his manner, but when he spoke, people listened. He also had unwavering faith in the Lord. I soon learned to trust his counsel.

Rambo, who adopted her unique English name several years ago, also credits her sister’s influence in her own conversion. “Belle has been a great example to me in my life,” she explains.
Because Rambo is the youngest Wong daughter, her parents were hesitant at first to allow her to join the Church. “When I was younger, I began going to church each Sunday even though I hadn’t been baptized,” she recalls. “At first, my parents didn’t want me to join the Church. So I would go with Belle every Sunday, but I wouldn’t take the sacrament.”
This is where the story takes on an ironic twist.
“A lot of members of the ward would look at me and think I was a member,” she continues. “They would ask me to be a fellowshipper for the missionaries’ investigators even though I was still an investigator myself. As I got older, my testimony began to develop and I learned more about the Church.”
When Rambo was finally baptized in 1990, she joined Belle in teaching gospel principles to older sisters Mandy, May, Angela, and Agnes, as well as to Simon. She also continued “officially” fellowshipping other investigators at church each Sunday. “When I was a kid, I liked to play and have fun. But when I got older, I received a testimony—a true testimony—and I wanted to share it,” Rambo says.

This brings me to a third lesson that I have learned from the parable of the good Samaritan. I think it is significant that, in this story, Jesus chose a despised outsider—a Samaritan—as the benevolent savior rather than the victim. It may be a Samaritan—an outsider we least expect to have compassion for us—who rescues us. We must reach out to those who are different, not only because they may need us but because we need them. Are we humble enough to recognize that the Samaritans in our lives have something to offer us? Can we do as Jesus did when He chose to pass through Samaria on His way to Galilee rather than avoid a group of people who were not welcome at home? Will we acknowledge the woman at the well—a Samaritan—and accept a drink of water from her?6

A recent experience cemented this lesson for me. A few weeks ago my family and I visited Encircle, a resource center for LGBTQ youth and their families right here in Provo. The resource center is housed in a beautifully restored home that was built in 1891. Encircle provides programming and services—including counseling, social activities, service opportunities, and more—for the LGBTQ community. I had been thinking—once again, quite abstractly—for some time about how I might be more helpful and supportive of our local LGBTQ community, but I had been unsure of what I could do.

My family parked our car outside of Encircle, and we walked in the side door of the blue-and-white building. I was ready to offer myself to Encircle. Maybe I could volunteer there, or perhaps I could donate funds for programming, or maybe I could offer some kind of pro bono legal help. I was proud of myself for finally making a real effort to act.

What I hadn’t really stopped to consider was that my brothers and sisters in the LGBTQ community might have something to offer me—that I might need them. As soon as my family walked in the door, we were welcomed, quite literally, with open arms. My children found other children to play with, and new friends offered us food and let us into their lives. I was struck by the sense of community and closeness I felt there and by how quickly this new circle of friends had opened up to us. I left Encircle that day not as the rescuer I had imagined myself to be but as the rescued.

I also learned this same lesson when I traveled to Dilley for the first time. In that summer of 2016 I boarded a plane to Texas with every intention of helping—even rescuing—the women and children detained there. But I did not expect to learn so much about the human spirit, about resiliency and courage, from my interactions with these women. I expected to find broken spirits and desperate souls. Instead I often encountered grace and an unyielding faith that inspired me. The course of my life has changed because of my interactions with these women, and I am grateful to them for that.