Gospel Story Finder

A few years ago, a mother wanted to reduce the time television was taking from her neighborhood’s school-age children. She started a campaign to encourage more time away from television, calling it “Turn Off Your TV, Turn On Your Mind.” She challenged the students at her children’s school to stop watching television—except for two to three hours a week of news or educational programs—for one month. Support came readily from the school’s principal and faculty. Teachers contributed ideas for how the students could use their time, and the children undertook special projects like participating in reading marathons, building models, and performing experiments.
The “Turn Off Your TV” campaign proved to be a memorable experience, especially for the children and their parents. Local news media covered the event and praised the efforts of those involved.

“Tryouts will be held soon for our annual school Christmas play,” said Mrs. Humphreys to the class. She smiled at Molly. “We’d love to have each one of you come and try out.”
Molly decided she’d audition for the part of Mary. Being Mary would be better than anything! Well, except maybe for finding a friend. That would be the best thing of all.
After several months in this new big-city school, Molly still didn’t have a single friend. Whenever she tried smiling at the girls in her class, they would only giggle and whisper to each other.
The leader of the girls in her class was Julia, a smart, pretty girl who always seemed to do everything right. One day Molly took a chance and walked up to her.
“Hi, Julia. Could you please help me with my homework?”
“Sorry,” Julia said. “Don’t have time.” Then she ran off to play with her friends.
Molly sat down at lunch, alone again. What could she possibly do to get the girls to like her? Then she remembered the Christmas play. If she got the part of Mary, maybe somebody would want to be her friend.
Audition day arrived. Molly had practiced hard. When her turn came, she sang her audition song with almost no mistakes.
The next day when Mrs. Humphreys announced the parts, Molly crossed her fingers. “The part of Mary will be played by Julia,” Mrs. Humphreys said, “and Molly will play the part of the first angel.”
Molly’s heart sank. Julia would get to play Mary? Julia, who was already so popular? It wasn’t fair! Molly blinked away hot tears.
Over the next few weeks, Molly worked hard at learning her part. She knew the angel was still important, even if it wasn’t the lead role.
On the night of the Christmas play, Molly felt like butterflies were fluttering in her stomach. She’d never been in a play before. What if she made a mistake or forgot her part?
When the music began, Julia walked to the stage to sing her solo. The audience got quiet as the pianist played the opening line. But Julia didn’t start singing.
Molly was confused. Had Julia forgotten to start? She peeked over at Julia. She could tell that Julia was trying to sing, but nothing was coming out.
The pianist started over. Molly held her breath as Julia opened her mouth. The only sound that came out was a tiny squeak. Julia’s lips began to tremble.
Molly had never imagined Julia might feel scared too. But she was—and in front of all those people too.
“Start over again,” whispered Mrs. Humphreys loudly from behind the scenery.
The pianist started over a third time. Molly made a quick decision. She knew what it was like to feel all alone. Nobody should have to feel that way.
She took a couple of shaky steps onto the stage and put her arm around Julia’s waist. Molly started to sing. As soon as Julia realized she wasn’t on her own, her face broke into a smile. This time her voice worked! Molly thought they sounded wonderful singing together.
After the song ended, the audience clapped and clapped. When Julia went back on stage to take a bow, she grabbed Molly’s hand and pulled her out for a bow too. Then she gave Molly a big hug right on stage.
Molly grinned ear to ear. Yes, finding a friend was definitely better than any part in a play.

I remember a few seasons ago we invited a photographer to come into our home to take our Christmas picture. He looked like a Latter-day Saint, and we didn’t discuss religion with him. He came and took several poses in our home and outside. As I went a week or so later to pick up the proofs. I looked around his home and began to conclude that he wasn’t a member of the Church. I then began to ask him questions that I hadn’t before. I asked him if he had lived in Salt Lake City all of his life. He said, “No, I’ve been here about seven years.” I said, “How do you enjoy living among the Mormons?’” And he said, “Well, they don’t bother me, and I don’t bother them. The home teachers haven’t even come by to see me.” And then he said, “In fact, no one has ever spoken to me about the Church.” And here he had been in our midst for seven years! Somewhere in our neighborhoods there may be someone living this Christmas season whom we could select as our gift for the Savior. There might be something we could do with that person that would bring him closer and better prepare him to hear the gospel taught by the missionaries.

Another time—it was the Sunday before Thanksgiving, about 1943—I went to priesthood meeting where a member of the bishopric said: “This Thursday is Thanksgiving. We ought to all have family prayer in our homes.” Then he said, “Let’s put on the blackboard the things we are grateful for.” We did, and he said, “Include these things in your Thanksgiving prayer.” I got sick to my stomach, as we never had a prayer or blessing.
That night at 6:30 we went to sacrament meeting. At the end of the meeting, the bishop stood up and was very tender. He told about the young men from our ward who had been killed and wounded in World War II. He talked about our liberty, our freedom, our flag, and this great country, and our blessings. Then he said, “I’d hope every single family would kneel and have family prayer on Thanksgiving Day and thank God for His blessings.”
My heart ached. I thought, How can we have family prayer? I wanted to be obedient. I wanted to have a prayer for Thanksgiving. I even thought I would say it if someone asked me, but I was too shy to volunteer. I worried all day Monday, and all day Tuesday, and Wednesday at school.
Thursday we all got up. There were five boys and two sisters. We skipped breakfast so we would have a real appetite for Thanksgiving dinner. I kept thinking, Please, Heavenly Father, let us have a prayer.
Finally at 2:30, my mother called us to come and eat. We cleaned up and sat at the table. Somehow Mom had managed to have a turkey with all the trimmings. She put all the food on the table, including the turkey. I thought my heart would burst. Time was running out. I looked at my father, then my mother. I thought, Please, now, someone, anyone, please can’t we have a prayer? I was almost panicky; then all of a sudden everyone started to eat. I had worked hard all morning and afternoon to work up an appetite, but I wasn’t hungry. I didn’t want to eat. I wanted to pray more than anything else in this world, and it was too late.

My first-grade teacher at Beaumont Elementary School in Knoxville, Tennessee, was Miss Ready. At the beginning of the school year, she asked me to sit beside and help a blind boy named Josh. At first, I was a little nervous because I had never been around anyone with a disability before. I tried to remember how kind and loving Jesus was to all people. By the end of the year, Josh and I had become best friends.
Josh lives with his grandmother and rarely gets to go anywhere, so I invited him to the zoo. We had a lot of fun feeding the animals and stuff. I also took Josh swimming in the pool where my mom works in the summer. He’d never been to a pool before. In the spring, I invited Josh to go with us to sing for a senior citizens center. It was our Primary’s Easter service project. Josh made lots of new friends. We sang for the seniors, and then we went back to the church and had an Easter egg hunt and played games.
One of my mom’s favorite memories is of when she brought cupcakes to share with my class on my birthday. Josh was with his special education teacher in another classroom down the hall and around the corner. Miss Ready asked me to go get him. I was so excited that I told Josh, “Let’s run!” With Josh holding my arm, we ran for all we were worth. When we got to the classroom, we were out of breath, and Josh said, “That was so much fun! Can we do it again?” I realized then that Josh never gets to run.
Josh’s teacher came huffing and puffing into the room, her eyes big and round from fright. She calmed down when she saw that Josh was OK and that I had been careful and hadn’t bumped him into anything as we ran.
During a field trip toward the end of our first-grade year, Miss Ready separated Josh and me and put me into another group. She told my mom that she hadn’t realized until then how isolated I had been, taking care of Josh all year and that she felt bad about it. But both Mom and I feel that it was a very rewarding year.
I have gone on to second grade now. Josh stayed back in first grade. I miss him a lot, but every couple of days or so we talk on the phone. I’m going to invite him back to church with me and pray that his grandma will let him come. I know that Heavenly Father loves Josh, and I pray that he will find someone else in his class to care for him with love and kindness. In the meantime, I’ll find someone in my second-grade class who needs a friend, because I’m trying to be like Jesus.

One Sunday afternoon, I began thinking about Jesus Christ and His atoning sacrifice. Those thoughts helped me feel safe and sound.
Suddenly, however, I remembered the rising cases of COVID-19 in my country. Immediately, I felt sadness for people worldwide who were suffering. I said to myself, “They don’t feel the same security and peace that I do.” Those feelings brought me to my knees, and I began to pray.
I prayed for those who had died, as well as for those who had lost loved ones. I wept for them because I know the pain that comes with losing someone you love. During the COVID-19 global pandemic, many have carried alone the burden of losing a loved one.
Then my thoughts turned to my mother, who had passed away when I was five years old. As tears continued to run down my cheeks, I prayed to Heavenly Father about how much I missed her. Then I remembered that Jesus wept with Mary and Martha after Lazarus, their brother and His friend, had died (see John 11:19–35). His compassion comforted me, but the tears still came as I thought of how much I missed my mother.
As I continued to pray, I included my mom in my prayer. I thought of her and imagined her in front of me. I told Heavenly Father how much I loved her and missed her. I thanked Him for the time I had with my mom in this world. I miss her, but I believe that one day we will meet again and be together as a family forever.
I paused, and my heart filled with hope. I prayed to Heavenly Father to bless my father and me to endure until we could see my mom again. Then I shed tears of joy and hope for that glorious gathering made possible through the Savior’s Resurrection.
I feel immense gratitude to Heavenly Father for the plan of salvation. The death of my mother was painful, but my pain has been “swallowed up in the joy of Christ” (Alma 31:38). I am grateful for Him. He renews my hope in the life to come. His Resurrection means more to me now than ever. I will see my mother again because of my Savior.

“Invite Mr. Wood* to seminary.” The thought popped into my mind as soon as I heard the announcement, and I immediately thought it was crazy. Why would I invite my music teacher to come to seminary at 5:30 in the morning?
The seminary president had just told our class that we would be having a teacher appreciation day. We were challenged to invite some of our schoolteachers to join us for a morning of seminary where we would thank them for their service. The entire week after hearing this announcement, I thought about inviting Mr. Wood. Every time I went to seminary or saw him in music class, the thought came back: “Invite Mr. Wood to seminary.” After several days of this, I couldn’t ignore the thought any longer.
One morning as all the students in music class were getting out their instruments, I put my trombone aside and approached Mr. Wood. My heart was pounding and my hands were shaking, but when I opened my mouth to extend the invitation, I felt comfort.
To my surprise, Mr. Wood said that he would come! He was curious about why I went to seminary every morning before school and wanted to learn more. After giving him all the details, I walked away full of joy.
During this experience, I didn’t feel a burning in the bosom (see D&C 9:8). But I did feel the Holy Ghost. The recurring thought to invite Mr. Wood (see D&C 128:1), the comfort I felt when I invited him (see John 14:26), and the joy I felt after I invited him (see Galatians 5:22) all came from the Spirit. But if I had been looking only for a burning in the bosom, I might not have recognized when the Holy Ghost was prompting me.

When I was 13 years old, my family lived on property in Granger, Utah, and every Saturday morning, my brother and I would get up early to start our chores. On one particular Saturday, my chore was to mow the lawn. We had a pretty big yard, so I had to get up extra early to get everything done before it got too hot.
As I was putting the lawn mower away in the shed after I’d finished, I heard the door to the back of our home close. I looked up and saw my father motion for me to come over and sit with him on the back porch steps of our home. We sat shoulder to shoulder, admiring the beautiful sunrise, as I waited for him to speak to me.
After a while he asked me, “Son, tell me about what you want to do in your life. What are your goals? What are your thoughts about the future?”
I told him my goals and dreams, including things like amazing sporting accomplishments and becoming an attorney. When I finished, he said, “That’s wonderful. You can accomplish anything in this life with our Heavenly Father’s help.”
Then he said, “Son, there is something that I would like to talk to you about, and I want you to know that I have prayed about what I’m going to share with you now. And I have prayed that the message I will give to you will be imprinted on your soul.
“What I am going to say to you will greatly affect how you deal with the challenges and the heartaches you will certainly face in your life. And it will come to influence how you face the successes that you have in your life more than anything else that I know to say to you.”
He paused, and I curiously waited to find out what this amazing piece of advice would be.
“Protect the private times of your life,” he said. “You know those moments of your life when you think, ‘There’s no one else around, nobody else knows what I’m doing, and nothing that I’m going to do during this moment will have any negative effect on anyone else’? You know those times?
“What you do in those moments, during these private times of your life, will determine the level of confidence you will have before God and men. It will determine your ability to concentrate and focus on difficult and complex challenges in your life more than anything else I could teach you. And it will have more to do with how you grow and raise your own family and how you strive to draw near to our Heavenly Father than anything else I could say to you. Son, protect the private times of your life.”
I listened carefully to that advice. And just like he said, that moment became locked in my mind and in my heart. Those words are forever imprinted on my soul.
“You know those moments of your life when you think, ‘There’s no one else around, nobody else knows what I’m doing, and nothing that I’m going to do during this moment will have any negative effect on anyone else’?”
As I reflected on what my dad taught me, I realized that my father was not only referring to the importance of staying away from things like pornography and misconduct. He was advising me to fill those private times with positive things. About a year after that conversation, I finished reading the Book of Mormon on my own for the first time. And I came to receive a witness by the Spirit, in a private moment, that the Book of Mormon is the word of God. And I was able to make the connection between the importance of it being the word of God and this being the Lord’s Church.
In those private moments, I gained a testimony that the prophet of my youth, President Spencer W. Kimball, was a mouthpiece of the Lord. And it is on that foundation that I have continued to know that each prophet after, including President Russell M. Nelson today, is the Lord’s chosen, called, and anointed mouthpiece to the world.
For me, those private moments have been the foundation on which my testimony rests.
Since that morning on the back porch steps of my childhood home, protecting the private times of my life has meant not only doing those things that guarded each moment against error or sin but filling those moments with spiritually and physically uplifting activities. Some of those include listening to good music, praying, reading the scriptures or other wholesome books, and physical exercise. I try and fill those private times with a focus on developing my talents and working on my hobbies. I have found that doing so brings me lasting joy rather than momentary happiness.
Protecting the private times of my life has meant not only doing those things that guarded each moment against error or sin but filling those moments with spiritually and physically uplifting activities.
During my youth, as I worked on protecting the private times of my life, I made personal goals in areas where I wanted to improve, such as setting goals to read the Book of Mormon, improve my race time in the 400-meter run, serve a full-time mission, and attend a university. I strived to use the time I had to progress and develop my skills. Setting and striving to achieve those goals has blessed my life with better physical health, strengthened testimony, inner peace, and lasting joy.
I am so grateful for the advice my father gave me all those years ago to protect the private times of my life. I know his counsel has helped me to confront the challenges of life and feel the confidence of knowing that I have a Father in Heaven who loves me and to whom I can go during sweet hours of prayer, all during the private times of my life (see Doctrine and Covenants 121:45–46). As you protect those moments in your life and fill them with wholesome, uplifting activities you will see and feel our Heavenly Father’s blessings of peace, increased confidence and lasting joy pour into your life.

“What’s that book?”
Kaylan Miller was curious to see what her friend April Leach was reading, particularly because she was reading by flashlight.
“It’s called the Book of Mormon,” April replied. “It’s part of our scriptures.”
Kaylan already knew April, knew she was a good person and a good friend, knew she came from a good family, knew she and her family were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She and April had been close since they were in first grade at elementary school. Even though April moved away for a couple of years, “we were still friends,” Kaylan says.
Now April was back in Pebble Beach, California, and Kaylan was excited to see her. Their parents had agreed that Kaylan could stay over at April’s house. And April was comfortable enough with her friend that she did what she did every night before going to sleep—she read her scriptures by flashlight.
April, now 15 (so is Kaylan), explains: “When I was a little girl, I didn’t want to get out of bed to turn off the light, so I started reading in bed with a flashlight. I just never got out of the habit.”
Watching her from across the room, Kaylan was curious. “Read some of it to me, okay?”
And April did. She read some of her favorite verses of scripture out loud. The words—about the Savior, about faith, about prayer—left Kaylan feeling she had found a new source of light. She thought a lot about what April had read, about the book subtitled “Another Testament of Jesus Christ.”
A little while later April presented Kaylan with a gift—her very own copy of the Book of Mormon. April had written her testimony next to the title page inside. The reading continued, alone and together. They discussed stories and passages, trading favorite verses back and forth.
The light April now shared with Kaylan was much more than illumination from a flashlight. It was the friendly light of her love for the restored gospel and her love for the Lord Jesus Christ. And for Kaylan, that light continued to grow and grow.
“I felt at home with April and with her family,” she says. “I felt comfortable and natural with them. It was like a second home to me.” The rest of the family includes parents Michael and Jill and two brothers, Michael, 17, and Jason, 10.
“I noticed some special feelings between members of her family,” Kaylan explains. “They’re wonderful and genuine. They always made me feel like I belonged. They had a different atmosphere in their home than I had felt in any other home of any of my other friends. I guess that feeling helped the gospel and its message about families to make sense to me.”
April’s example also said a lot. “She’s different from most of the other kids I’ve known, too,” says Kaylan. “She’s always friendly and happy, but most of all she’s sincere and honest. I really like her. Her whole family’s example gave me hope for the kind of life that I want.”
“Kaylan began asking questions about the special feelings in our home and what caused them,” April explains. “I tried to explain why the family is so important to members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and I suggested she talk to the missionaries.”
In the meantime, Kaylan kept reading the Book of Mormon and kept finding answers to many of her other questions about the Church. Though she already understood many things from her conversations with the Leach family, she listened intently as the missionaries taught her. She became more and more excited and wanted to join the Church. She talked to her parents, and they gave permission for her baptism.
That was more than a year ago. Today Kaylan is a strong member of the Church who is letting her own light shine, in more ways than one. She was chosen as a princess for the Pacific Grove Feast of the Lanterns, a festival with a pageant that reenacts a story about a Chinese princess and her sweetheart, who is a commoner.
The festival and pageant take place at night on a small beach at Pacific Grove. People come from miles around to join in the festivities, and long before the pageant begins the beach is crowded elbow to elbow with people carrying small, lighted paper lanterns. As darkness gathers, the beach is aglow with hundreds of multi-colored lights. Then the pageant begins, and Kaylan steps forward to play her part.
It is an enjoyable evening, and the lights are a big part of the show. When the pageant is over, fireworks burst and blaze in the darkened sky.
Kaylan talks about her friend April’s light and how it kindled her own. “Now I want my friends to know how much the gospel means to my life,” she says. “I want to share it with them, just like April shared it with me.”
It is a night alive with light, light much brighter than the flashlight by which April reads her scriptures. It is a night when there are many lantern bearers, each eager to share light with all who will receive it. It is a perfect night for April and Kaylan to remember the friendly light that they have shared with each other, the light of truth.
They know that it is a light that will grow “brighter and brighter until the perfect day” (D&C 50:24).

My dear brothers and sisters, as October general conference approached last year, I prepared my conference talk to highlight the 100th anniversary of the vision of the spirit world given to President Joseph F. Smith on October 3, 1918.
A few days after I had submitted my talk for translation, my beloved eternal companion, Barbara, completed her mortal probation and passed into the spirit world.
As the days have turned into weeks, then months, and now a year since Barbara’s passing, I find myself more fully appreciating this scripture: “Thou shalt live together in love, insomuch that thou shalt weep for the loss of them that die.”1 Barbara and I were blessed to “live together in love” for 67 years. But I have learned in a very real way what it means to “weep for the loss” of those we love. Oh, how I love and miss her!
I suppose most of us fail to fully appreciate what others do for us until they are gone. I knew Barbara was always busy, but I did not fully understand the constant family, Church, and community demands upon her time. There were daily consecrated efforts repeated thousands of times through the years that kept our family functioning. And through it all, no one in our family ever heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word.
Floods of memories have washed over me this past year. I have thought about the physically demanding choice she made to be the mother of seven children. Being a homemaker was the only career she ever wanted, and she was in every aspect a consummate professional.
Often I have wondered how she kept track of our children and me. Meal preparation alone was a truly daunting task, not to mention activities such as doing the mountains of laundry our family generated every week and keeping shoes and appropriately sized clothing on the children. We all turned to her on a myriad of other issues that were important to us. And because they were important to us, they were also important to her. She was, in a word, magnificent—as a wife, as a mother, as a friend, as a neighbor, and as a daughter of God.
Now that she has moved on, I am happy that I chose to sit next to her when I came home from the office during the last few months of her life, to hold her hand as we watched the endings of some of her favorite musicals—over and over again because Alzheimer’s would not allow her to remember that she had seen them just the afternoon before. Memories of those special hand-holding sessions are now very, very precious to me.
Brothers and sisters, please do not miss an opportunity to look into the eyes of your family members with love. Children and parents, reach out to each other and express your love and appreciation. Like me, some of you may wake up one day to discover that the time for such important communication has passed. Live each day together with hearts filled with gratitude, good memories, service, and much love.
During this past year, I have pondered more intently than ever before about our Heavenly Father’s plan. In teaching his son Corianton, Alma referred to it as “the great plan of happiness.”2
The word that keeps coming to my mind now when I consider the plan is “reunion.” It is a plan, designed by our loving Father in Heaven, that has at its center the grand and glorious possibilities of family reunion—of eternally reuniting husbands and wives, parents and children, generation upon generation in the household of God.
That thought brings me comfort and the assurance that I will be with Barbara again. Although she physically suffered toward the end of her life, her spirit was strong, noble, and pure. She had prepared herself in all things so that when the day comes, she can stand before “the pleasing bar of God,”3 full of confidence and peaceful assurance. But here I am, in two days 91 years old, and I’m still wondering, “Am I ready? Am I doing everything I need to do to be able to hold her hand once again?”
The most simple, basic certainty of life is this: We are all going to die. Whether we die old or young, easy or hard, wealthy or indigent, beloved or lonely, nobody escapes death.
A few years ago, President Gordon B. Hinckley said something that is particularly meaningful about this: “How sweet is the assurance, how comforting is the peace that come from the knowledge that if we marry right and live right, our relationship will continue, notwithstanding the certainty of death and the passage of time.”4
I certainly married right. Of that there can be no doubt. But that isn’t enough, according to President Hinckley. I also have to live right.5
Today, “living right” can be a pretty confusing concept, especially if you spend much time on social media, where any voice can declare real truths or false concepts about God and His plan for His children. Thankfully, members of the Church have eternally true gospel principles to know how to live so that we might be better prepared when we must die.
Just a few months before I was born, my Apostle grandfather, Elder Melvin J. Ballard, gave a talk that, for some people, captured the essence of what it means to live right. Titled “Struggle for the Soul,” his talk focused on the ongoing battle between our physical bodies and our eternal spirits.
He said, “The greatest conflict that any man or woman will ever have … will be the battle that is had with self,” explaining that Satan, “the enemy of our souls,” attacks us through “the lusts, the appetites, the ambitions of the flesh.”6 So the primary battle is between our divine and spiritual nature and the carnal natural man. Brothers and sisters, remember, we can receive spiritual help through the influence of the Holy Ghost that can “teach you all things.”7 Help can also come through the power and blessings of the priesthood.
Now, I ask, how is this battle going with each one of you?
President David O. McKay said: “Man’s earthly existence is but a test as to whether he will concentrate his efforts, his mind, his soul, upon things which contribute to the comfort and gratification of his physical nature, or whether he will make as his life’s [purpose] the acquisition of spiritual qualities.”8
This battle between our carnal and our spiritual natures isn’t a new thing. In his final sermon to his people, King Benjamin taught that “the natural man is an enemy to God, and has been from the fall of Adam, and will be, forever and ever, unless he yields to the enticings of the Holy Spirit, and putteth off the natural man and becometh a saint through the atonement of Christ the Lord.”9
The Apostle Paul taught that “they that are after the flesh do mind the things of the flesh; but they that are after the Spirit the things of the Spirit.
“For to be carnally minded is death; but to be spiritually minded is life and peace.”10
It seems clear to me that one of the most important things we can learn in this life is how to emphasize our eternal spiritual nature and control our evil desires. This should not be that difficult. After all, our spirit, which has been around a lot longer than our physical body, has already been successful in choosing righteousness over evil in the premortal realm. Before this earth was formed, we lived in the spirit world as sons and daughters of Heavenly Parents, who loved us and continue to love us now.
And yes, we did have to make life-changing decisions and choices in that premortal realm. Every person who has ever lived or ever will live on this planet made an essential decision to choose to accept Heavenly Father’s plan for our salvation. So we all came to earth with a proven track record of a successful spiritual nature and eternal destiny.
Think about that for a moment. This is who you and I really are and who you have always been: a son or daughter of God, with spiritual roots in eternity and a future overflowing with infinite possibilities. You are—first, foremost, and always—a spiritual being. And so when we choose to put our carnal nature ahead of our spiritual nature, we are choosing something that is contrary to our real, true, authentic spiritual selves.
Still, there’s no question that flesh and earthly impulses complicate the decision-making. With a veil of forgetfulness drawn between the premortal spirit world and this mortal world, we can lose sight of our relationship to God and our spiritual nature, and our carnal nature can give priority to what we want right now. Learning to choose the things of the Spirit over the things of the flesh is one of the primary reasons why this earthly experience is part of Heavenly Father’s plan. It’s also why the plan is built upon the solid, sure foundation of the Atonement of the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ so that our sins, including the errors we make when we yield to the flesh, can be overcome through constant repentance and we can live spiritually focused. Now is the time to control our bodily appetites to comply with the spiritual doctrine of Christ. That is why we must not procrastinate the day of our repentance.11
Repentance, therefore, becomes an indispensable weapon in our battle over self. Just last general conference, President Russell M. Nelson referred to this battle and reminded us that “when we choose to repent, we choose to change! We allow the Savior to transform us into the best version of ourselves. We choose to grow spiritually and receive joy—the joy of redemption in Him. When we choose to repent, we choose to become more like Jesus Christ!”12
Every night as I review my day in prayer with my Father in Heaven, I ask to be forgiven if I did anything wrong and promise to try to be better tomorrow. I believe this regular daily repentance helps my spirit remind my body who is in charge of me.
Another resource is the weekly opportunity we all have to refresh ourselves spiritually by partaking of the sacrament in remembrance of the Atonement and the perfect love that our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, has for us.
Brothers and sisters, I encourage you to slow down a bit and think about where you are now in subjugating your carnal nature and empowering your divine, spiritual nature so when the time comes, you may pass into the spirit world to a joyful reunion with your loved ones—for which I testify and humbly pray in the sacred name of the Lord Jesus Christ, amen.

A true story from the USA.
“My game is tomorrow, right?” Lucy asked as Mom tucked her in bed.
Mom nodded. “Yes! Tomorrow night at 6:00.”
Lucy could hardly wait. She had been looking forward to her team’s first softball game for weeks. And this year their jerseys were pink! She was so excited it was hard to fall asleep.
But the next morning, Lucy looked out the window and frowned. Grumpy gray clouds hung in the sky, and puddles were everywhere. It had rained all night.
She knelt to say her morning prayer. “Dear Heavenly Father, please help the weather to be good for my softball game tonight.”
All day at school, Lucy thought about the game. She pictured herself wearing her new pink jersey, reaching up to make a winning catch. But outside, it was still rainy and wet.
Lucy said a quick prayer in her mind. Heavenly Father, please help the sun to come out soon so we can play tonight.
When the school bell rang, Lucy grabbed her backpack and ran outside. She could see the sun starting to peek out from behind the clouds!
But when Mom came to pick her up, she had bad news. “The game for tonight is canceled,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
Lucy looked at the sky. “The sun is coming out, though. Maybe the rain will stop.”
“I know,” said Mom. “But the softball field flooded from all the water. So even if it stops raining, it’s too wet and muddy to play. They’ll reschedule the game for another time.”
Hot tears welled up in Lucy’s eyes. She was so disappointed! She really, really wanted to play tonight. Why didn’t Heavenly Father answer her prayers?
At home, Lucy felt as gray and grumpy as the rain clouds. She didn’t feel like reading her favorite book. And even though Mom made her favorite pasta for dinner, it didn’t taste as good.
After dinner, Lucy’s littlest sister, Ellie, crawled on her lap. “Play with me?” she asked.
Lucy sighed. “Sure,” she said. Then she had an idea. “We need something fun to do.”
She grabbed a broom and tied a scarf to the end of it to make a flag. Then she gathered all her sisters. She held up the flag and said, “Welcome to Camp Rainy Day! It’s where you go to have fun when you can’t play outside.”
Her sisters cheered.
“First,” Lucy said, “we’ll sing our camp song.”
The girls giggled as they made up a silly song and words to go with it. Then they marched around the room with their flag, singing as loud as they could.
“Now we need to set up our tent!” Lucy helped her sisters gather blankets and pillows to make a fort. It toppled over a few times. But when they fixed it, they all huddled inside the fort to play games.
Soon it was time for bed. “I hope it rains again tomorrow,” said Lucy’s sister Liza. “I want to play Camp Rainy Day again!”
“Thanks for playing with your sisters,” Mom said as she hugged Lucy goodnight. “You made your own sunshine out of a cloudy situation. I’m proud of you.”
Lucy felt happy as she climbed into bed. Her prayers weren’t answered the way she wanted. But Heavenly Father had still helped her find something fun to do with her family—and that was just as fun as wearing pink at her first softball game.
Illustrations by Apryl Stott

In the spring of 1955, when I was fifteen, my family moved to Anchorage, Alaska. This was an exciting adventure for a young boy who loved the outdoors, and it was made all the more so when I obtained a rifle and began to look forward to hunting large game.
One day, when visiting my father’s office, I saw a beautiful new gun case on his desk. I had previously asked him to get a new case for my rifle, and assumed that this was it. Therefore, when he stated that it was not necessarily mine, that he had many men under his supervision for whom he had to purchase rifles and gun cases, I was extremely disappointed and angry, and expressed my discontent.
Later that evening, my mother came into my bedroom where I was sulking and explained that the gun case was really mine, but that my father had not wanted to say so in the office lest those persons under his supervision get the idea that he could order such items for their own personal use. Mother suggested that I owed dad an apology. I decided that I would do so the next morning when I saw him at breakfast.
But I did not see my father at breakfast—I did not seem him ever again. He left the house early that morning to supervise an air drop. The airplane he was in crashed into a mountain and he was killed. My last hours on earth with my father had been spent in my tantrum over a simple and unimportant matter. The guilt I felt over my behavior rested heavily upon my conscience.

Before sunrise I knew it was going to be one of those days. I hadn’t yet eaten breakfast when I messed up my shoes on some really fresh—and really fragrant—cow manure in Grandpa’s barn. Then one of the oversized eager eaters in the hog pen gave me a pretty good shove causing slop to slop onto my shoes and pants.
After breakfast things went steadily from bad to worse to awful. This was the day Grandpa had selected to have us put “soil sweeteners” on a newly cleared piece of land. I didn’t realize it yet, but Grandpa had just sentenced the four of us—Uncle Lynn, the new hired man, my little brother, and me—to a slow death by asphyxiation.
As we pitched several million tons of really ripe cow manure into the spreader, my brother managed to miss the spreader and “accidentally” hit me with a pitchforkful of the stuff. After slipping and falling several times while shoveling, all I could say to no one in particular was “No 13-year-old boy has ever been this dirty.” I didn’t hear anyone disagree.
Things didn’t get any better as the day went along. After the manure had been shoveled, we had to take the spreader to the sawdust pile and load enough sawdust to cover all of North America. Not so bad, I thought.
Boy, was I wrong. First, my brother nailed me in the back of the neck with a shovelful of sawdust. I nailed him back. He tackled me. I stuffed a handful of sawdust down his shirt. He returned the favor. Over and over we rolled, wrestling like a couple of overgrown kittens.
Cow, pig, and chicken manure on my shoes. Cow manure in the center of my back. Hog slop on my pants and shoes. Chicken manure all down my left side. Sawdust inside my shirt, and enough sweat to give me a nice shine.
Now I’m as dirty as I can get, right? I wish. While we were catching our breath, the hired man decided to tell a really dirty, offensive story.
When he finished, there was this long silence. Nobody laughed. Uncle Lynn was the ward clerk and an innocent, virtuous man. I was a newly ordained deacon who wanted to be like Uncle Lynn. My 11-year-old brother hadn’t even understood. Finally, the hired man said something about guessing his story hadn’t been very funny. He had that part right.
By the end of the day, I was dirtier than I had ever been. Eventually, I took a long shower with lots of soap and shampoo. It felt so good to be clean again. My skin was clean. My hair was clean. Even my fingernails were clean.
But no amount of soap, water, or shampoo would wash the hired man’s lewd story out of my memory. Like an unwanted and unwelcome guest, it had arrived and now it wouldn’t leave.
It’s been decades since I heard that dirty story. I’ve never repeated it. I’ve tried hard to forget it. I know the Lord considers me blameless regarding that story. But every once in a while, it pops into my mind for just an instant, and I discover the uninvited guest still hasn’t gone home.
You see, there are some kinds of dirt which soap can’t reach.

Eleven-year-old Hatty pulled the last stitch through the apron. “It’s finished,” she said, tying the knot. “Now can I please make Pa’s birthday shirt?”
“Are you sure you want to try something so difficult?” Ma asked.
“Yes! His birthday’s next week, and I’ve been mending as fast as I can so I’ll have time to make it. Besides, you said his old one was ready for the quilt bag.”
Ma laughed. “All right. You’ve convinced me. There’s some cloth in the box by my bed.”
Hatty hurried to the box and pulled out a large piece of newly woven cloth. “How about this?”
Ma nodded. “That will be fine, but be careful not to use more than you need. It has to last us all year.”
“I’ll be careful.” Hatty spread it on the table.
“The first thing we need to do,” Ma said, “is cut out the pieces. Usually I measure your pa first, but since this is a surprise, we’ll have to rely on my memory.” Ma measured, outlined, and pinned. “It’s your turn,” she said, handing Hatty the scissors.
Hatty cut out the sleeves.
“Good,” Ma said. “I’m going outside now to put fresh straw in the mattresses. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.” Hatty started on the next piece. This is so exciting! she thought. I can hardly wait till Pa sees—“Oh, no!” she wailed out loud.
Ma ran through the door. “What’s wrong?” Then she saw the large gash. “Oh, Hatty, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you so soon.” She folded the ruined cloth and put it into the box. “Perhaps we can use it later.”
Hatty wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m sorry, Ma.”
“I know.” Ma quickly traced another pattern, and Hatty tried again. This time she was extra careful.
It wasn’t until the next morning that Hatty had another chance to work on her gift.
As she started sewing the first seam, she thought, This isn’t so hard. But after a solid hour of stitching, her hands were sore, her shoulders ached, and her fingers had been pricked five times.
“Let’s see how you’re doing,” Ma said, examining the stitches. “Hmmm, … most of it’s perfect. But see these big stitches? You’ll need to make them smaller, or they’ll come undone while Pa is working.”
Hatty looked at her pricked fingers. “Maybe this project is too hard for me.”
“It is difficult, but I believe that you can do it.”
“You do?”
“Yes. You’ve already done many difficult things. Remember when we crossed the plains? You had to keep our milk cow walking, even when all you wanted to do was sleep.”
Hatty nodded.
“And what about our garden? You planted it all by yourself.”
“Pa helped a little.”
“And I’ll help you with this.”
Hatty looked again at her sore fingers. “Show me what to do,” she said.
The rest of the week, Hatty spent every spare minute working on the shirt. Sometimes she had to unpick her stitches and sew them again, and sometimes she felt like giving up. But, finally, on the morning of Pa’s birthday, she finished it and wrapped it in brown paper.
“There’s a new company of Saints coming through the canyon today,” Pa said after breakfast. “I’ll be spending most of my day helping them.”
“But it’s your birthday!” Hatty cried.
“And I can’t think of a better way to spend it! You know that we’ve always been helped when we’ve needed it, so I’m glad to help others when they need it.”
“What about your present?” Hatty asked.
Pa laughed. “I’ll be home in time for dinner. You can give it to me then.”
When he was gone, Ma said, “Aren’t we lucky? Now we have the whole day to prepare for his party.”
“His party?”
“Yes. We need to make a cake, fix his favorite dinner, and—”
“String wildflowers around the room! Can I do that?”
Ma laughed. “Go ahead.”
That evening, Pa, Ma, and Hatty sat around the table and ate dinner. There was a flower next to each place.
“Happy birthday to you,” Hatty and Ma sang after dinner.
Pa stuck his finger into the cake. “Mmmm. Let’s eat.”
“Presents first,” said Hatty, reaching under her chair.
Just then someone knocked on the door.
“I wonder who that could be.” Pa picked up the candle and went to the door.
Hatty stood on her tiptoes, trying to see who it was, but Pa was too tall. She could hear a man’s voice, though.
Finally Pa closed the door and faced his family. “It’s one of the new settlers,” he said quietly. “He’s out of money, and his clothes were so torn that he didn’t want you to see him. He hid in the bushes all afternoon.” Pa looked at Ma, his eyes pleading. “I have another pair of pants, but …”
Slowly Hatty handed her father the brown paper package. “Happy birthday,” she whispered. “It’s a shirt.”
Pa pulled Hatty into his arms. “Thank you,” he said. Then, he gathered the clothing and gave his gift to the man outside.

One day my companion and I gave a tour of the Smith family farm to a young family from Ireland. They were recent converts of only two years.

As we stood in the reconstructed log home where Joseph Smith and his family lived in the spring of 1820, my companion and I recounted the important events in Joseph’s childhood that led him to enter a grove of trees to pray to know which church he should join. We shared with them Joseph’s experience when Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ appeared to him and answered his prayer. We then asked them how they had felt when they first learned of Joseph Smith and his First Vision.

I expected them to express the same feelings most people share—that they felt a burning in their heart or that they knew that it must be true because the Spirit they felt was just so powerful. Instead, they said they felt it was “inconveniently true.” That made us pause for a minute. We asked them to explain what they had meant.

They told us that things had been good for them before they heard the gospel, and the idea of changing their comfortable lifestyle seemed like an inconvenience to them. But when they received a spiritual witness that it was true, they knew they had to make a lifestyle change.

Their interesting and sincere testimony impressed us. Because they really had a testimony of Joseph Smith and the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, they were willing to make inconvenient changes in their lives and join the Church. They did so because they knew those changes would be the best thing for their family!

Brother William and Sister Johanna Buckley are converts to the Church and live on the island of Aruba. Years ago, when they were investigating the Church, they became friends with Sister Ana St. Cyr and her four-year-old grandson, Ralph, who attended the Oranjestad, Aruba branch. These two were the only members of the Church in their family and the only Haitian members of the branch. As the Buckleys integrated into the branch they found special joy in watching young Ralph’s testimony and spirituality develop.
In John 4:13–14, Jesus says to the Samarian woman at the well, “Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again:
“But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.”
It was apparent that Sister St. Cyr and little Ralph had allowed those everlasting waters to spring up within them.
Like the Samarian women who went off to share the good news, Ralph did the same. In 2018, Ralph Desir was called to serve in the Vanuatu Port Vila Mission where he had the opportunity to share the everlasting waters of the Savior, Jesus Christ. He was blessed with many companions from diverse cultures, lived in eight different places, and learned Bislama, the native language of Vanuatu, which helped him to effectively create relationships with the people.
Elder Desir was blessed to see the gospel of Jesus Christ strengthen the people he taught as they overcame the challenges in their lives. Upon completion of his mission, he testifies of the truthfulness of the power of everlasting waters and knows how to allow those waters to continue to bless his own life and the lives of others.
Brother Desir testifies that “serving a mission was the best decision that I have made in my life. I have learned to be like the Savior and teach the gospel by example in all things. I love the gospel with all my heart, and I wouldn’t exchange my mission experiences for anything. One of the reasons I served a mission was because I knew how much it would bless my family and how much joy it would bring to my own life.”
Since returning from his mission, Brother Desir has served as first counselor in the San Nicolas Branch presidency, Aruba, and as a delegation leader for the Aruba, Bonaire, Curacao District that attended the youth conference in the Dominican Republic in 2022. He is now serving as branch secretary. He uses his proficiency in the Dutch, Spanish, English, Papiamento, and French Creole languages to continue to bless lives in Aruba and elsewhere.
Brother and Sister Buckley have followed Brother Desir’s example and are now serving in the ABC district as church communication directors. They continue to enjoy watching him grow and share the gospel.

“Hello! This is Radio Halton. Jenny speaking. Are you happy and raring to go? I’ve got great things lined up for you today. But first, let’s hear some music.”
This cheery message is the way patients in Halton General Hospital, Runcorn, England, tune in to 17-year-old Jenny Ireland, their disk jockey for several hours each week.
What many of those patients don’t realize, as Jenny sends out bridges of comfort and hope along radio waves, is that she operates that complex equipment without the use of arms.
At Jenny’s birth, when her father saw only hands at shoulder level, his thoughts were, “Oh, how we shall miss hugs from this lovely daughter.”
Now, he says, “I have never been more wrong. Jenny’s hugs were whole body hugs. She couldn’t have been a more loving child.”
And this love for others now motivates Jenny in all areas of life. “I’d like to be everyone’s friend,” she admits. “My greatest ambition is to become a radio presenter, broadcasting to the public. A lot of lives can be touched that way.”
Touching lives is something she’s already doing. Nothing is too great an obstacle. She even completed the physically demanding Gold Duke of Edinburgh Award, setting an amazing example to the rest of her school friends. The final hike in Snowdonia, Wales, was gruelling—days of trekking over mountains in all weathers, with only a compass and map to guide. Jenny also has no ligaments in one knee, which causes problems. But sheer determination keeps her going.
Maybe growing up on Runcorn soil has added a will to win to Jenny’s life. It’s the sort of town that’s had to build bridges to go places. The fourth largest fixed arch suspension bridge in the world crosses from Runcorn, south of Liverpool’s River Mersey, to Widnes, on the north side. Without that link across the waves, much trade and communication would be lost.
Without Jenny’s sociable nature, many opportunities for missionary work would be lost. She has a gigantic testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. And she doesn’t mind who knows.
Jenny also knows how to make people feel special. Even those embarrassed by her disablement.
“Sometimes children will point at me and talk behind my back or make fun. It really doesn’t bother me one bit. I just laugh. My lack of arms is no problem to me. If I believe in myself, then I can accomplish as much as the next person.
“There was no medical explanation for my being born this way. No one is to blame. I’ve learnt a lot about myself in seminary. I feel I have things to do, and my disability is not a trial but somehow a help to others. It’s making me a much stronger, more patient person and keeps the family close together.”
Jenny has a younger brother, Jared, age 15, and two sisters, 13-year-old Maxine and Kirsty, age 9.
“The only chore I get out of is washing dishes,” laughs Jenny, “because I get a little wet—more like soaked! But, like Jared, I love to cook, and I really don’t need any help.”
Jenny once watched a video of herself and understands how people feel. “My immediate reaction was, ‘That girl needs assistance; she looks so clumsy.’ But when I’m doing things, I don’t feel clumsy. I’m just getting on with it.
“Of course there are days when I’m blue, too,” Jenny admits, “but my parents have taught me that my best friend is my Heavenly Father, and he’s always there when I need him.
“I can remember at primary school when everyone could write much faster than I. The teacher would be dictating, and I never could keep up. I’d come home crying. Mum said, ‘Ask Heavenly Father to help you.’
“Well, he didn’t seem to be helping—at first. Then a few weeks later I noticed I could do it! And I’ve kept up ever since, writing faster than others at times.
“When I was even younger,” she recalls, “I couldn’t reach to put on socks. So I sat there trying for hours until success came.”
School has presented many challenges for Jenny. But Church teachings and activities and loving parents and leaders have developed such self-esteem that nothing is a threat to progress.
“I can remember a school debate,” she smiles, “when we had to speak on a favourite subject. I chose the Church. When I mentioned ‘Church is fun,’ everyone gasped. During question time someone asked, ‘Do you really get up at six o’clock every morning for seminary?’ At the end, the teacher commented, ‘That was an excellent advertisement for your church.’
“On another occasion,” Jenny continues, “during the Duke of Edinburgh practice walks with a backpack, I felt so weighed down that I very nearly quit. Usually, before such a big trial, I ask Dad for a blessing. This time I realized I’d forgotten. I was just about to look for a phone to call Mum to come and get me when a line from my patriarchal blessing came into my head: ‘You can achieve anything you set your heart to do.’ And with help from my Heavenly Father, I did it.”
Accepting President Kimball’s “do it” challenge takes Jenny wherever she wants to go. She hikes, swims, skates, dances, camps, paints. Also on that list are graduating from seminary, learning to drive, saving for a trip to America, temple marriage. But foremost is her goal of conquering the waves—sound waves.
Jenny’s voluntary work as a hospital radio deejay has whetted her appetite for sharing music and words with anyone willing to listen. She loves all types of music from classical to modern and has a calm, humorous, slightly Liverpudlian approach to the microphone.
“I think giving talks at church from an early age has helped me feel comfortable speaking into mikes,” she smiles. The chairman of Radio Halton, Derek Owens, agrees. “She joined us five months ago as an assistant. Then one day the other deejay was absent, so Jenny was thrown in at the deep end. Being the smashing girl that she is, she stepped right in without hesitation and put on a great show. Now she has her own show each week.”
With such praise from the boss, it’s no wonder Jenny feels an obligation to set the best possible example of being a Latter-day Saint.
Sometimes temptation to slacken can be almost overwhelming, especially when a cherished goal comes in sight. Like the time Jenny was invited to meet with top deejays from Independent Radio City, Liverpool—on a Sunday.
She wanted so much to be there, supporting her hospital team and meeting influential people, possibly furthering career opportunities. Workmates kept pressing invitations. But she refused, at the same time explaining her feelings for the Sabbath.
“I felt awful letting them down,” she says, “but I’d have felt even more awful letting myself and Heavenly Father down and my workmates, too, in the long run, because they’d have witnessed a bad example.”
And Jenny knows bad examples knock down bridges. As she’s more interested in building them, she rejoins the radio waves with another cheery message.
“Time to close for today, but before we go, I’d like to interview the lady who’s been interviewing me for the past two hours. She, too, is a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, sometimes known as the Mormons. Let’s ask her a few questions about the Church and a magazine called the New Era. …”

I am a footballer [soccer player]. At football practice, my coach has us do lots of endurance tests and exercises. I feel good when I set goals and reach them.
I made a spiritual goal to stay awake when I say my prayers at night. I used to lie down in my bed while I prayed, but now I sit up or kneel down. I also try to change up what I say in my prayer and not just repeat the same things. This new goal has helped me feel better at night because I actually complete the prayers!

America was deep in the economic depression of the 1930s. I was one of several small children in our family, and our father had been unemployed for many months. There was no government assistance for the unemployed, and the Church welfare program was not yet in operation. Our needs were many. Some might have said we were destitute. Though I was only a child, I felt the anxiety and concern of my parents.
Each morning we knelt together as a family, and each one in turn led our prayer. One memorable morning it was Mother’s turn. She described some of our immediate needs, and then she thanked our Heavenly Father for the privilege of living the law of tithing. I immediately experienced a feeling of comfort and assurance. Living the law of the tithe was a privilege and would bring blessings. I did not doubt it because my mother knew it. Those feelings have remained and intensified throughout my life.

Sweet though this knowledge was, the seven years between Moroni’s first visit on 21–22 September 1823 and the official organization of the Church on 6 April 1830 were a time of great testing for Joseph and Lucy. They arranged to purchase forest land in Manchester, New York; began clearing the land; built a log home, barn, and outbuildings; planted an orchard; and began building a large New England–style frame house. By 1830 the farm was numbered among the better ones in the township and was known for its “neatness and arrangement.”
A bitter blow fell when Alvin died suddenly, only six weeks after the angel Moroni’s visitation. The family’s “happiness [was] blasted in a moment,” and Joseph, Lucy, and the children “were for a time … swallowed up in grief.” On the heels of this sorrow, they lost the title to their farm. Alvin had earned enough money for all but the last payment “after much labor, suffering, and fatigue” before his death and had also begun the construction of their new frame home. When the first land agent died, there was a misunderstanding, and through deception the carpenter they hired to finish their home acquired the deed. A Quaker gentleman came to their rescue, purchasing the land and allowing them to live in the house and on the farm for the next four years in exchange for their son Samuel’s work.