Gospel Story Finder

As a new convert and student at Brigham Young University-Hawaii, Elder Chi Hong (Sam) Wong gained much more than an education—he gained a sure knowledge that there is a God who knows “the details of our lives.”
A year later, on July 9, 1983, he married Carol. They moved to Laie, Hawaii, USA, so he could attend school. Because he was on a student visa, Elder Wong could work only 20 hours a week. “We had to really exercise our faith and prayers,” he said of what it took to sustain his family.
He worked hard to earn a scholarship, then he took as many credit hours as the university would allow. “It wasn’t easy,” he recalls. “Once we had that experience we knew we could always rely on the power of heaven.”
The Wongs were sealed in the Laie Hawaii Temple on August 9, 1984, and their first child was born; three more children would eventually join the family. “Those years were very special, very sacred,” Elder Wong said.

One situation featured the Donald Mabey family. Brother Mabey had moved his family from Salt Lake City to North Bay, Ontario, because of a business transfer by his company. Don was an elder in the Church but had been less than fully active in priesthood callings. He was about thirty-five years of age at the time and had a lovely family. The North Bay Branch was a struggling unit desperately in need of priesthood leadership. When I attended that branch and recognized this fact, I held an interview with Brother Mabey and said to him, “I am calling you to serve in the presidency of the North Bay Branch.”

He replied, “I can’t do it.”

I asked, “Why?”

He answered, “I have never done it before.”

“That’s no hindrance,” I responded. I took fresh hope from Don’s name, Mabey, and the words of a once-popular ballad, “Please don’t say no—say maybe.”

Brother Mabey said yes. Today he is a high priest living here in the West. All of his family members have entered temple doors and have received temple blessings.

Perhaps an oft-repeated scene will bring closer to home your personal opportunity to reach out to rescue. Let us look in on a family with a lad named Jack. Throughout Jack’s early life, he and his father had many serious arguments. One day, when Jack was seventeen, they had a particularly violent quarrel. Jack said to his father, “This is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. I’m leaving home, and I will never return!” So declaring, he went to his room and packed a bag. His mother begged him to stay, but he was too angry to listen. He left her crying at the doorway.

Leaving the yard, Jack was about to pass through the gate when he heard his father call to him: “Jack, I know that a large share of the blame for your leaving rests with me. For this I am truly sorry. I want you to know that if you should ever wish to return home, you’ll always be welcome. And I’ll try to be a better father to you. I want you to know that I’ll always love you.” Jack said nothing, but went to the bus station and bought a ticket to a distant point. As he sat in the bus watching the miles go by, he thought about the words of his father. He realized how much love it had required for his father to do what he had done. Dad had apologized. He had invited him back and had left the words ringing in the summer air, “I love you.”

It was then that Jack understood that the next move was up to him. He knew that the only way he could ever find peace with himself was to demonstrate to his father the same kind of maturity, goodness, and love that Dad had shown toward him. Jack got off the bus, bought a return ticket to home, and went back.

He arrived shortly after midnight, entered the house, and turned on the light. There in the rocking chair sat his father, his head bowed. As the father looked up and saw Jack, he rose from the chair, and they rushed into each other’s arms. Jack often said, “Those last years that I was home were among the happiest of my life.”

Here was a boy who overnight became a man. Here was a father who, suppressing passion and bridling pride, reached out to rescue his son before he became one of that vast “lost battalion” resulting from fractured families and shattered homes. Love was the binding band, the healing balm. Love—so often felt, so seldom expressed.

I remember distinctly the time and place I found my spiritual second wind, my more sure witness of the Book of Mormon. I was in Scotland in my first assignment as a missionary in a little town called Barrhead just outside of Glasgow. I had been challenged by a Scotsman asking me how I knew the Book of Mormon was true. It was at that point I realized I had never received a sure witness or even put the book to the test as Moroni challenges us in Moroni 10:3–5. You first have to have a sincere desire to read the Book of Mormon; then you study and ponder the message with real intent and pray in faith, asking the Lord if it is true—something I had not yet done.
It was later one evening as I was kneeling by my bed in humble prayer that I received a feeling so powerful, so sweet, and so warm that it was as if I had just reached the crest of a hill in my spiritual race for truth and understanding. The Holy Ghost bore witness to my soul that the Book of Mormon was true. Like my physical second wind, no one can tell me that I imagined this witness. It was real! I knew it, and no one could take it away from me. From that point on, I had no problem bearing testimony of the Book of Mormon, living prophets, and the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. I could never deny it!

More Important Than a Grade
In the Philippines, I met Karen, who shared an experience she had as a Laurel while studying for a bachelor’s degree in hotel and restaurant management. A teacher required that every student learn to make and taste the variety of drinks that would be served in their restaurants. Some of the drinks contained alcohol, and Karen knew it was against the Lord’s commandments for her to taste them. In the face of serious consequences, Karen found courage to arise and shine forth, and she did not partake of the drinks.
Karen explained: “My teacher approached me and asked me why I was not drinking. He said, ‘Miss Karen, how will you know the flavor and pass this important subject if you do not at least taste the drinks?’ I told him that I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and as members, we do not drink things that are harmful to us. Whatever he expected of me, even if it meant receiving a failing grade, I would understand, but I would not fail to live my personal standards.”
Weeks passed, and nothing more was said about that day. At the end of the semester, Karen knew her final grade would reflect her refusal to taste the drinks. She hesitated to look at her grade, but when she did, she discovered that she had received the highest grade in the class.
She said: “I learned through this experience that God … will surely bless us when we follow Him. I also know that even if I had received a failing grade, I would not regret what I had done. I know that I will never fail in the Lord’s sight when I choose to do what I know to be the right thing.”
Ann M. Dibb, second counselor in the Young Women general presidency

As I grew older, I learned about the blessings of doing things that at the time you don’t realize are important and good for you. When I was very little, I came down with a lung disease, but no one knew it at the time. When I grew older, I joined the air force. The doctors saw spots on my lungs. Because of the hard work of pedaling that heavy load, somehow my body had healed itself. I had built up endurance. I had built up strength. The doctors said that the disease took care of itself and that I passed my physical. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to become a pilot.

After my wife, Jean, and I were baptized on 27 October 1957, we did not start paying tithing right away as we should have. I thought we had too many debts and too little money. I should have known that we could not afford not to pay it.
When a year passed, we were expecting our third child. We had just purchased a new house and also had several more debts. About this time, my wife said, “We need to pay our tithing.” I did not know how we could because we had no money left after our expenses, but I said, “We will do it.” And we did.
We had already moved into our new house, but the loan had not yet closed because the street and the driveway were not finished. It soon began to rain and rain and rain some more. As a result, the work on the street and driveway was delayed. The loan did not close, so we had no house payments.
By the time the work was finally completed, the mortgage company had lost the loan papers and seemed in no hurry to find them. When the papers were finally found, we had lived in our house for six or seven months without making a single payment. We were able to get ahead on some of our other payments during this time.
Things have not always been financially easy for us, but we have never stopped paying our tithing. We call this experience a blessing from heaven.
Henry Hardnock, Midland Second Ward, Odessa Texas Stake

When I joined the Church in Taiwan as a teenager, paying tithing was not difficult because I had little income. After I graduated and began working, it became a little harder. There were always so many things to buy and so little money to buy them with. But each year at tithing settlement, I could honestly tell the branch president that I had paid a full tithe.
Then last year my mother had to be admitted to the hospital intensive care unit. I was sorely worried about my mother and also about how we would pay for her care. The following Sunday I remembered I hadn’t yet paid my tithing that month. Thinking I would need all my money to pay the hospital, I decided to put off paying my tithing until the next week. As Sunday approached once again, a small voice reminded me that the Lord has promised to open the windows of heaven when we pay tithing. “Now is the time to give my faith a test,” I thought.
I withdrew some money from the bank and placed it in a tithing envelope. I felt a little hesitant, but summoning my courage, I gave the envelope to my branch president. Although I felt reluctant to let go of the envelope, I decided to leave the matter in God’s hands.
Just a week later, I received a telephone call informing me that our insurance company would soon be sending a check. “For how much?” I asked. The amount was many times more than the tithing I had paid. I know that when we are faithful, God will never forsake us.
Lu Chia, BYU Chinese Ward, Brigham Young University Sixth Stake

Every morning when my mom drops us off at school, she tells us she loves us and then says, “Choose the right!” I always say, “Choose the right!” right back. It makes me feel good to know that my whole family is doing their best during the day to make Heavenly Father happy. A girl in my class is quiet and sometimes scared to talk. I always try to watch out for her at recess and make sure that nothing hurts her.

Illustrations by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
Matt: Look, Mom. There’s a big poster of Jesus in the Friend!
Mandy: And a smaller picture of Him to color.
Mom: “I’ll Follow Him in Faith.” That’s nice. We’ll hang it on the wall, and put the picture you color up next to it. They’ll both help us think about the Savior.
Matt: I’ll color the picture!
Mandy: No, I’ll color it!
Mom: Would Jesus want you to fight about coloring His picture?
Matt: Let’s print two copies off the Internet.
Mandy: We can each color one!
Later
Matt: I know which of our pictures is colored better.
Mandy (rolling her eyes): Here it comes.
Matt: Neither! They both look great!
Mandy: You know, I think you’re right.

I considered it the better part of valor not to probe too deeply into just where the boys got the watermelon for our picnic. After all boys would be boys, I told myself. And when they offered, what could I say? They ought to be involved somehow in the preparations. In any case, stealing a watermelon was a minor infraction. Why, we had all been involved in such things at some time or other.
I soothed my conscience with these rationalizations until I learned where they had gotten the watermelon. And then there was no help for it. Obviously it was a sin to steal a watermelon, and that would have to be the topic of our next priesthood lesson.
Not only was it a sin to steal a watermelon, but it was a greater sin to lie about it. And that was the thing that really rankled in my brain after our visit to Sister Wagner’s house.
My young companion, Tom Learner, had made the appointment. And he seemed perfectly at ease as he rang the doorbell.
“Good evening, Sister Wagner,” Tom’s voice was sincere and friendly.
“My home teachers. Come in. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“And how are you, Sister Wagner?” I asked.
Her answer was noncommittal. I sensed there was something she was not saying.
I discussed the message we had prepared on chastity—not a subject that Sister Wagner needed to be greatly concerned about. Tom offered a beautiful prayer.
Then as we were preparing to leave, I said: “And how are you really, Sister Wagner? Is there something we should know about?”
With a quick glance at Tom, she said: “Come with me out back. There’s something you should see.”
Sister Wagner, widowed now 15 years, was proud of her garden. Many times as we visited in her home she had taken us to look at the tomatoes and carrots and peas. And, oh yes, the one watermelon plant.
You could almost see the hunger in her eyes as she talked about eating the two large green watermelons that were growing on that vine. Tom and I had joked about them, saying that they were almost like children to her and that she probably would not have the heart to eat them when they did get ripe.
Now as we came into her backyard she pointed at the garden. She was very near to tears. “If they had just taken the watermelons, I could have accepted that. But look at my tomatoes. It looks like a herd of elephants had been running through them. All that lovely fruit spoiled! And the watermelon! Do you know what they did with the watermelon? They threw it in the street out front—smashed to pieces.”
Weeping now in earnest she fled from us to the sanctuary of her house.
“Who could have done such a thing?” Tom fumed as I drove him to his house. “I’m gonna find out who it was and make him pay.”
He was putting on a good act. There were real tears in his eyes, and he almost convinced me. But the circumstantial evidence was just too great. Tom was the one who had suggested that he knew where they could get a watermelon for the picnic. I felt sure that he had involved the other members of the teachers quorum in the theft.
Sick at heart, I began to prepare the lesson I would give the following Sunday. I had enjoyed working with these boys. They were good boys basically.
Where had I failed them? It was difficult for me to believe that they—Tom especially—would steal Sister Wagner’s watermelons, knowing what they meant to her. Both of the melons had been taken, though only one made it to the picnic. The other one, as Sister Wagner pointed out, was dropped in the street in front of her house. Insult added to injury.
“Well, guys?”
They knew before I opened my mouth that this was not going to be the usual lesson.
“You want to tell me about it, guys?”
“What’s he driving at?” Mark Fenton asked. Tom’s face was a blank.
“Hey, fellows, when you offered to get a watermelon for the picnic I assumed …”
Slowly the light began to dawn in Tom’s eyes. I could see it expand and grow from a vague suspicion to certain knowledge.
“You, you think we took Sister Wagner’s watermelon?”
“What am I supposed to think, Tom?”
Suddenly the boys were all talking at once, each one pleading innocence. I had obviously taken them by surprise. Had I really misjudged them? Or had they simply not expected to be found out?
“Okay. Okay, guys!” I raised my arms for silence. “Perhaps I did jump to conclusions. If so, I’m sorry, and I beg your forgiveness. But would you just tell me one thing? Where did you get that watermelon?”
There followed a silence as profound as the outburst of protest that had preceded it. Tom looked at Mark Fenton. Mark squirmed in his seat and glanced at Billy Chavez. Eduardo, Billy’s younger brother, seemed to be profoundly interested in the pattern of the floor tiles. He studied those tiles as if he were hypnotized. The attention of the class focused finally on Eduardo, the shyest and quietest member of the group. They had chosen Eduardo as their spokesman, whether he liked it or not.
“You know something you’d like to tell me, Eduardo?”
He looked at me with something like panic in his eyes. I wanted to let him off the hook. But if the answer did not come from him, there would be no answer.
“Tell me about it, Eduardo. Where did you get the watermelon?”
Soft, like the southern breeze in September, came his voice.
“From old m-m-m-. …”
“Would you repeat that, please, Eduardo?”
“From Old Man Peters.” He seemed relieved after it was out.
Relief washed over me like a mountain wind in summer. They had not stolen Sister Wagner’s watermelon. They had taken one from Old Ma … Mr. Peters’ big field. He had so many. Surely he would not miss one. Still, I had set out to make a point.
“Hey, guys. I do apologize for thinking you would do something like that to Sister Wagner, a widow with only one small plant. But you know stealing is stealing. Were you all involved in this?”
They nodded their heads affirmatively.
My plan would require only minor alteration, a change of characters. “Well, fellows, you know what I think we had better do?”
They knew all right but were hoping I would not say it.
Each agreed that, since I insisted, he would go with me to visit Mr. Peters later that afternoon. At the appointed time I picked each of them up and we drove out to the Peters’ farm at the edge of town.
I had not talked to Bill Peters in a long time, though we went to school together some years back. He was not a member of the Church but had married into a prominent Latter-day Saint family. His children were totally inactive. I must confess that I felt somewhat ill at ease going to see him. I wondered if it was worth it for one small watermelon. But we were already committed.
He was tinkering with his tractor when we pulled into the yard. I got out of the car and approached with some trepidation.
“Hi Bill.”
“Walt? Been a while.” He extended his arm to shake hands and then drew it back. “Hand’s covered with grease. You won’t want to shake with me.”
The boys were still keeping to the security of the car. I motioned them to join me.
“Looks like a delegation,” Bill Peters said.
“Oh … uh … how are things going, Bill?”
“Been better. Tractor won’t run. Cow got into the lucerne the other night and bloated. Still might lose her.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Bill. You have a nice looking watermelon patch.”
“Hmph! Had is more like it. Kids got into the field and knocked the best melons off the vine. What they didn’t ruin the cow did, on her way to the alfalfa field. Whoever got into the melon patch left her gate open.”
The boys were beginning to squirm noticeably.
“Well, Bill, that … that was what we came to see you about.”
“Figured it was when I saw you coming.”
“We’d like to pay for the damage, if we could.”
“Walt, I wouldn’t know what to charge. Probably a couple hundred dollars all told. But, kids! They don’t know what they’re doing. Did you ever steal a watermelon? They think it’s fun. Isn’t when you’re on the other side. I donno. I wouldn’t feel good about taking their money. I will accept an apology.”
Each of the boys in turn expressed his regret to Mr. Peters. They were deeply penitent. And none of us felt like we had really solved the problem. I did not know what more we could do.
Two weeks later I learned what kind of stuff that teachers quorum was really made of when I got a call from Bill Peters.
“Walt?”
“Yes.”
“Bill Peters. I just had to tell you how much it has meant to me …”
My pause must have suggested to him that I did not know what he was talking about.
“Your boys,” he said. “That Learner kid’s a great mechanic. Got my tractor going like a charm. Brought his big brother with him, who works at the garage. And the other boys have been working around the place.”
I was speechless.
We talked about it during priesthood meeting the following Sunday.
“Don’t you guys know it’s a sin to lie?” My voice was quavery as I said this.
“Lie?” Tom Learher’s voice was indignant. “We didn’t lie.”
“No,” Mark Fenton broke in. “We just didn’t tell you everything.”
“We wanted to surprise you,” Eduardo spoke shyly.
Suddenly I needed a tissue. After wiping my nose, I asked: “Did you learn anything else from this experience?”
“It’s a sin to steal a watermelon,” Billy Chavez spoke for the group.

“I’m scared!” Adam blurted out as he and Mom drove to the church.
“There’s no need to be scared, Son,” Mom reassured him.
“But what will he ask me? What if I don’t know the answers? Will I still get to be baptized?”
“You don’t need to worry. It will be very much like the father’s interviews you have each month,” Mom replied, parking the car.
“But why do we have to do it in the bishop’s office?” Adam asked as he shut the car door.
“Because that’s where he interviews all the boys and girls before they’re baptized. It helps them understand how important baptism is. And it reminds them that the bishop has the priesthood keys—the authority—to authorize ordinances in our ward.”
Adam and Mom sat down outside the bishop’s door. Soon it opened. “Hello, you two,” the bishop greeted them warmly. “Adam, come in. I’ve been looking forward to our visit all day.”
Mom gave Adam a smile of encouragement as the door closed behind him.
After a few questions about school, the bishop asked, “Adam, do you love Jesus?”
Adam nodded.
“Would you tell me what you’re doing to show Him that you love Him?”
“Well, I want to be baptized like He was. And I try to be a good example to my friends so they’ll want to know about the Church.”
“Very good. Anything else?”
“I pay my tithing, go to church, and say my prayers. And I’m preparing to serve a mission.”
“Excellent! I want you to know that I appreciate how kind and helpful you are to others, too,” the bishop added. “That’s another important way you show love for the Savior. Let’s read Mosiah 18:10, a scripture about baptism.”
Adam took the book from the bishop and carefully read, “‘Now I say unto you, if this be the desire of your hearts, what have you against being baptized in the name of the Lord, as a witness before him that ye have entered into a covenant with him, that ye will serve him and keep his commandments, that he may pour out his Spirit more abundantly upon you?’”
“Adam, are you willing to serve the Lord and keep His commandments?” the bishop asked.
“Yes!”
“Well then, you’re ready to be baptized.”
The two stood up. The bishop shook Adam’s hand. “Congratulations! I’m very, very proud of you.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Adam said with a grin.

Shortly before the April 2020 general conference, President Russell M. Nelson invited my wife, Kalleen, and me into his office, where he called me to be the General Young Men President. As our heads were spinning over this totally unexpected turn of events, he stood and said: “This is an important time for the youth of the Church because it’s an important time for the Church. The youth will play a critical role in this wondrous time.” He added, “You know, I have invited them into the Lord’s battalions.”
“Yes, President Nelson,” I said. “I know you have, and I know they are listening.”
“Well, it’s important that they do, because they are needed.”
I am paraphrasing only a little here, but he then went on to talk with great energy about the long-prophesied gathering that is taking place and the important work the Lord has for our youth to do. He spoke with a sense of urgency and great immediacy that they have been specifically sent to prepare for the Savior’s return.

I’m eternally thankful for those who ministered and shared the restored gospel in a natural way to my wife when she was fourteen years of age. She accepted the invitation to follow Christ and was baptized in Málaga, Spain.
Having been ministered by her friends, who helped in her youth to draw closer to Christ, she learnt that ministering to others is part of our own process of repentance. It is how we turn our hearts to God and his Children. Some years after her baptism she travelled all alone to the Switzerland Temple to minister those on the other side of the veil. We then met each other in Zollikofen and this is also where we got sealed for time and eternity.

Heather and Jodi wanted to see what rock formations they could find in the valley, but it was almost dark. They needed a light to help them find their way. Willie, DuShan, and Tommy brought a lantern, and soon they all discovered rocks that looked like the faces of people and animals. One rock even seemed to be wearing a hat!
The next day the five friends returned to see what Goblin Valley looked like in the sunshine. The strange rock creatures were still there! DuShan found a formation that reminded her of a man with a big nose. On the edge of the valley, the children saw how soft dirt and rock wear away to leave harder sandstone behind. That’s how Goblin Valley was formed.
These rock formations are in desert country where it is very hot. The heat didn’t stop Tommy from exploring right away, but DuShan needed a rest and found a carved rock that cradled her just right.
The rest of the afternoon was spent jumping, climbing, and hiking. Jodi discovered a rock that may soon lose its head! Another rock looked like an animal. Can you guess which animal? At the entrance of this valley is a group of rocks some people call the Three Wise Men. Other people call it the Three Ugly Sisters.
Many other rock creatures guard Goblin Valley, and the formations are constantly, though only gradually, changing.
Jodi, Willie, Heather, Tommy, and DuShan wanted to stay longer, but the sun was going down. Remembering how scary Goblin Valley had been the night before, they said good-bye to their ghostly buddies.

The boys’ main assignment was caring for cattle and wagons—hitching, unhitching, feeding, shoeing, corralling, guarding, and mending harnesses. This work provided Zeb with some unexpected adventures. One day, according to his diary, “I was helping to shoe an ox, and witnessed the mosquitoes and horse flies driving off the horses and cattle, and in gathering the animals we kept what is called the dog-trot for about a mile. I finally caught a horse and jumped on him, and with considerable difficulty I succeeded in getting the animals back to camp.”

“I grew up in the city, but each summer I stayed with a farmer in our branch for two or three weeks, and I learned to enjoy farming. One day while we were working in a field and the cows needed to be brought up the hill to pasture, the farmer said, ‘I’ll take the wagon down to get the cows.’ I asked, ‘Can I do that?’ He replied, ‘Do you think that you can do it?’ I was small for my age, but I was happy that he thought that I could do the job.”

“Hans, Mein sohn, was machst du da?”
“Vater, Ich studiere.”
“Hans, Mein Sohn, das kannst du nicht.”
“Vater, Ich probiere.”
“Hans, my son, what are you doing?”
“Father, I’m studying.”
“Hans, my son, that you cannot.”
“Father, I am trying.”

“That was one of the first readings that I learned in school. Because it included my first name, Hans, it was very meaningful to me then, and it still is. I’m still trying today.”

One morning a few months later, Joshua woke up crying. His stomach hurt so much! “Mamá!” Joshua screamed from his bed. “My tummy really hurts!”
His stomach kept getting worse and worse. He couldn’t even walk. Papá gave Joshua a priesthood blessing, and then he and Mamá took him to see the doctor.
The doctor said that Joshua needed to have surgery right away. It sounded scary.
“We will take you to a special room for the surgery,” the doctor said. “You won’t feel anything, because you will be asleep. And your parents will be waiting for you right outside.”
Joshua felt even more scared. Why couldn’t his parents stay in the room with him? He couldn’t stop crying.
Mamá spoke gently. “What can we do to help you feel better?” she said.
“I know what we can do,” he said. “Please sing ‘I Am a Child of God’ with me. Then let’s say another prayer.”
As they quietly sang, Joshua remembered singing that song at his baptism. And as they prayed, he thought about what Papá had said on his baptism day: “The Holy Ghost can always be with you. You’ll never really be alone.”
Joshua still felt scared as the nurses took him into the surgery room. He couldn’t see the faces of the doctor and nurses because they were wearing masks. But when he looked into their eyes, he knew they were his friends and would take good care of him.
After his surgery the doctors said that Joshua would need to rest. He was still tired and sore, but the pain in his stomach was better. He didn’t feel like crying anymore. He knew he was going to be OK.
“I felt something in my heart,” Joshua told Mamá and Papá. “It was a warm feeling.”
“That’s one of the ways we feel the Holy Ghost,” said Mamá.
Joshua nodded. He was glad he had the gift of the Holy Ghost. Because of the Holy Ghost, he would never really be alone.

I was 22 years old when I faced the hardest decision I would ever make. The little blue plus sign did not seem real. I wasn’t ready to tell my family; instead, I turned to a friend. She accompanied me to a health-care unit to confirm my fears. My friend, trying to help, brought up abortion as a way to resolve my situation. She said that it could be my forever secret and that this way, I wouldn’t have to tell my family or the father of the baby.
Later, alone in my room, I thought about what my friend had said. An overwhelming feeling came, and I realized that I could not take this baby’s life away.1 I had made a choice that had led to this pregnancy, and now I needed to give this baby life so she could make her own choices.
Somehow I mustered the courage to tell my mom the news. Though disappointed in my actions, she supported me through everything. I also reached out to the father, who brought up adoption as an option. I hadn’t thought about it before then. Various choices swirled in my thoughts as my mom and I went to one of my first ultrasounds. The image on the screen showed my baby waving. In that moment, I knew that I needed to do whatever was best for my child.
I had fallen away from God for a long time, and I didn’t know if I even believed in Him anymore. But after that ultrasound, I fell to my knees and prayed, “What do I do, Father?”
My answer came slowly and softly, but at one point I shared with my mom the impression I felt: “This baby doesn’t feel like mine.” I began to look into adoption and eventually realized that this was the answer. I had felt the promise of Doctrine and Covenants 112:10: “Be thou humble; and the Lord thy God shall lead thee by the hand, and give thee answer to thy prayers.”
I once again prayed with all my heart when it was time to meet the adoptive family. The meeting went well, but additional confirmation came when my dad, who had not been fully supportive of the adoption, asked the potential adoptive family if they could really love the baby as their own. The adoptive father answered with such a strong conviction: “We are all God’s children. It doesn’t matter how our children come to us; they are ours, and we love them.” That was when everyone, including my dad, felt that this was the right thing to do.
Everything seemed to just fall into place. Their family and mine have grown to be one big family. We celebrate birthdays and holidays together and gather for Sunday dinners. Following my repentance and the strengthening of my faith, I was able to see my daughter sealed to her parents and older sister in the temple. I have seen God’s love for me as He has helped me through my struggles, and I have seen His love for my daughter in placing her with her forever family.
Making the choice was not easy, but God has strengthened me. I know “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me” (Philippians 4:13).

Build spirituality. Young people are capable of rising to meet spiritual challenges. For a youth conference a few years ago, stake leaders took the young people to an amusement park. The next year they tried a different type of activity. Following the counsel of Church leaders, they decided to take the focus off entertainment and put it on experiencing true joy by planning spiritual workshops and service projects. At first the teenagers weren’t very excited about the change, but as the conference progressed, they began to see things in a new light. The testimony meeting at the end of that conference was far different from the one a year earlier when, as one of the leaders described it, “Most of the youth just sat and giggled and poked each other.” This time, the young people were eager to express their joy at having served others and their love for Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.