Gospel Story Finder

It has been a privilege to seal several adopted children to Nan and Dan Barker, now living in Arizona. Some time ago, Nate, their son, then just over three, said: “Mommy, there is another little girl who is supposed to come to our family. She has dark hair and dark eyes and lives a long way from here.”
The wise mother asked, “How do you know this?”
“Jesus told me, upstairs.”
The mother noted, “We don’t have an upstairs,” but quickly sensed the significance of what had been said. After much effort and many prayers, the Barker family was in a sealing room in the Salt Lake Temple in the fall of 1995—where a little girl with dark hair and dark eyes, from Kazakhstan, was sealed to them for time and eternity. Inspired children still tell parents “great and marvelous things” (see 3 Ne. 26:14).

She records a tender memory of the entire family, gathered at the fireside after the day’s labor, listening to young Joseph with the greatest attention as he recounted to them incidents from the Book of Mormon. “The sweetest union and happiness pervaded our house; no jar nor discord disturbed our peace and tranquility reigned in our midst.” Lucy and Joseph Sr. realized this treasure was eternal, while the world could offer only vain things.

One day I had a spiritual prompting that I should invite my best friend from school to a devotional. I wanted to ignore the prompting, but I finally sent her a text the day before. As we sat together at the devotional, I was nervous. But when the meeting was over, she had a big smile on her face. It was a reminder to me that God knows His children better than I do and that I should always follow promptings to share the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Eliza, Minnesota, USA

An acquaintance of mine grew up not far from here. By the time he was 14 years old, he was over six feet tall and very uncoordinated. He said, “One afternoon when I was in a 10th-grade seminary class, the Spirit really touched me. I came to know that the gospel literally was true. I made up my mind that day that I wanted to serve the Lord in any way I could.”
By his senior year, he was well over six feet tall and much more coordinated. Many universities offered him scholarships to play basketball. After his first year playing at a university, he told his coach that he would like to be excused for two years to go on a mission. The coach said, “If you leave, you can be sure of one thing: you will never again wear one of our basketball uniforms!” Many thought that his “mission” ought to be playing basketball. Even some family members, including his parents, tried to convince him not to serve a mission. But he was totally committed. He was willing to give everything to the Lord—the scholarship, the applause of the fans, and the excitement of playing. He knew what the Lord was counting on him to do. He was called, and he served an honorable mission.
When he returned two years later, he was even taller and about 35 pounds heavier. His coach decided to repent. He was permitted to wear one of those basketball uniforms again, and in his senior year, his team not only won the conference championship but went on to the finals in national competition.

In 1975, while waiting for approval of the Book of Mormon translation, she began translating the Doctrine and Covenants. The other members of the translating committee discontinued translating for various reasons, so Sri was the mainstay of the scripture translation effort. Though she went to her job during the day, she felt driven to translate when she returned home. Often she worked late into the night, completing a rough translation of as many verses as she could in order to have them ready for the daily meeting of the translation committee. Once she went with other Church members to help with a cleaning project. After several hours of hard work, others suggested she go home to rest. Sri said that she was already resting because if she went home she would feel compelled to translate and could not sleep. The translation of the Doctrine and Covenants was completed in 1979.

This story took place in the USA.
Josie sat with her cousin Ashlyn under a tree outside her house.
“I wish there was something fun we could do to earn money,” Josie said.
“Maybe we could earn money by doing things for people,” said Ashlyn.
“What if we made it a club?” Josie jumped up excitedly. “Like a pet-sitting club or a dog-walking club.”
“We could do all kinds of things,” Ashlyn said. “People always need help. And they would pay us.”
Ashlyn was right. Every day Josie saw people who needed help.
Suddenly Josie had another idea. She felt warm inside. It reminded her of her baptism last year. She’d promised to always remember Jesus and follow His example. She knew one way she could do that.
“What if we have a club that helps people for free?” Josie asked. The warm feeling got stronger.
Ashlyn’s eyes grew wide. “That would be really fun,” she said. “We can help people at school and church—pretty much everywhere.”
“We can call it the Making Things Better Club!” Josie said. “Let’s start tomorrow at school.”
The next day at recess, Ashlyn and Josie ran to the edge of the playground.
“Do you see anyone we can help?” Ashlyn stood on her tiptoes and looked toward the bumpy rainbow slide.
“Not yet.” Josie searched the monkey bars and the swing set. Kids were sliding and swinging. They were bouncing balls and playing with jump ropes. No one really looked like they needed help. Everyone seemed to have a friend. Then she saw a younger girl all by herself with a jump rope.
Josie grabbed Ashlyn’s arm. “Look over there!”
Josie and Ashlyn found jump ropes and walked over to the girl.
“Hi. I’m Josie.”
“And I’m Ashlyn. What’s your name?”
The girl looked surprised. “I’m Leslie.”
“Do you want to play with us?” Josie held up a jump rope.
Leslie smiled. “Yes!”
Ashlyn and Josie taught Leslie some new ways to jump rope. When the bell rang, they said goodbye. Josie felt good inside. She knew it was the Holy Ghost.
After that, whenever Josie and Ashlyn saw Leslie in the hallway, they said hi to her.
Josie and Ashlyn looked for more people to help. Sometimes they said nice things to people and tried to cheer them up. Other times they invited kids to play with them.
One day, Josie smiled at a boy outside the school. “I like your dinosaur shirt,” she said.
The boy grinned and looked down at his shirt. “Thanks.”
As Josie sat down, she realized she hadn’t even thought about doing that for the club! She had just done it.
Josie thought of all the friends she had made since she and Ashlyn started their club. Josie really liked helping people. It made her want to do more nice things for others. The Making Things Better Club was making her better. And that felt great.
Illustrations by Tania Rex

Then, the COVID pandemic changed our daily lives, which I thank God for. When seminary classes started up on our smartphones, it was as if to counteract the evil that is also rampant on there.
Although I still had moments of weakness, I decided to hang in there and tried to sincerely follow the lessons of seminary, to benefit from God’s help in my studies.
I am grateful for my parents. Without them, I would have dropped out of seminary and followed the same path as my nonmember friends. As my favorite seminary teachers, they watched over me, making sure I stayed connected to God.
Then, healthy social relationships with the youth of the ward became my lifeline. Our activities together renewed me each time I was not in the mood. Among these friends was Corail Sommers, who never judged but always listened and encouraged and raised me up by her example.
In their own ways, they each contributed to my personal balance.

Ramona Morris was born into a Christian home with parents who attended the Methodist church. During her late teens, she stopped attending regularly because she felt that church was more about money and people’s status than about Jesus Christ. Following some disappointing experiences with a few churches, Ramona stopped attending for a while.
One day, years after giving up on organized religion, she saw the movie Meet the Mormons. She didn’t give much thought to it. Shortly after that, she saw some missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints sheltering on her gallery, or porch, from the rain. As a kind gesture, she gave them an umbrella.
Ramona and the missionaries exchanged the umbrella several times over the coming weeks. Eventually, the missionaries asked if she would be interested in learning about the gospel. At first, she told them no but came around after discovering that her grandmother had listened to a couple of lessons from two missionaries while in England working as a nurse after leaving Barbados as a part of the Windrush generation. However, she was naturally still a little nervous because 90 percent of her family was Methodist.
The new church was five minutes from her grandmother’s home near Rendezvous Hill. It had always been a source of curiosity, but she had never felt prompted to attend or to ask questions. “I asked the missionaries to give me the gospel lessons,” she recalls, “but it wasn’t easy with so many of my family being Methodists.”

1. Grace was nervous. She was going to sing with her little brother, Ethan, in sacrament meeting.
2. When it was time for Grace and Ethan to sing, Grace looked at Mom. “You can do it, Grace,” Mom whispered.
3. Grace and Ethan walked to the front of the chapel and stood behind the podium so that everyone could see them. Grace saw Dad smiling at her.
4. When the music started, Grace and Ethan sang “Jesus Has Risen.” Grace remembered all of the words and all of the notes.
5. When the song ended, Grace gave Ethan a big hug. Grace felt happy inside.
6. Grace and Ethan walked back to their seats and sat next to Mom and Dad. They were happy too. “That was beautiful,” Dad whispered.
7. Grace smiled. She was glad she and her brother could sing about Jesus.

The year 2024 is something of a milestone year for me. It marks 75 years since I was baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Zwickau, Germany.
When I think about my personal journey of discipleship, my mind often goes back to an old villa in Zwickau, where I have cherished memories of attending sacrament meetings of the Church of Jesus Christ as a child. It is there where the seedling of my testimony received its earliest nourishing.
This chapel had an old air-driven organ. Every Sunday a young man was assigned to push up and down the sturdy lever operating the bellows to make the organ work. I sometimes had the great privilege of assisting in this important task.
While the congregation sang our beloved hymns, I pumped with all my strength so the organ would not run out of wind. From the bellows operator seat, I had a great view of some stunning stained-glass windows, one depicting the Savior Jesus Christ and another portraying Joseph Smith in the Sacred Grove.
I can still remember the sacred feelings I had as I looked at those sunlit windows while listening to the testimonies of the Saints and singing the hymns of Zion.
In that holy place, the Spirit of God bore witness to my mind and heart that it was true: Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world. This is His Church. The Prophet Joseph Smith saw God the Father and Jesus Christ and heard Their voices.
Earlier this year, while on assignment in Europe, I had the opportunity to return to Zwickau. Sadly, that beloved old chapel isn’t there anymore. It was torn down many years ago to make room for a large apartment building.
I admit that it’s sad to know that this beloved building from my childhood is now just a memory. It was a sacred building to me. But it was just a building.
By contrast, the spiritual witness I gained from the Holy Ghost those many years ago has not passed away. In fact, it has grown stronger. The things I learned in my youth about the fundamental principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ have been my firm foundation throughout my life. The covenant connection I forged with my Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son has stayed with me—long after the Zwickau chapel was dismantled and the stained-glass windows were lost.
My dear brothers and sisters, my dear friends, there’s a part of me that misses the old Zwickau chapel and its stained-glass windows. But over the past 75 years, Jesus Christ has led me on a journey through life that is more thrilling than I could ever have imagined. He has comforted me in my afflictions, helped me to recognize my weaknesses, healed my spiritual wounds, and nourished me in my growing faith.

Another important quality to emulate is humor in the face of challenge. Hannah Cornaby, another member of the 1853 migration, wrote:
“It was three years, to a day, from that memorable first of June … , when our oxen having arrived, we left Keokuk. I wish I could afford a page to a description of our starting. The oxen were wild, and getting them yoked was the most laughable sight I had ever witnessed; everybody giving orders, and nobody knowing how to carry them out. If the men had not been saints, there would doubtless have been much profane language used; but the oxen, not understanding ‘English,’ did just as well without it. But it did seem so truly comical to witness the bewildered look of some innocent brother, who, after having labored an hour or more to get [an ox] secured to one end of the yoke, would hold the other end aloft, trying to persuade [the other ox] to come under, only to see [the first] careering across the country, the yoke lashing the air, and he not even giving a hint as to when he intended to stop” (Autobiography and Poems, 1881, p. 32).

My family was flying from Buenos Aires, Argentina, to a town in the north of that country called Posadas. I was 15, and although I had been on airplanes before, I was not used to flying in a plane as small as that one was. It held about 50 people and must have been about 50 years old. I got a shiver down my back at the thought of crashing but dismissed the idea. The plane was a little shaky, like me at that moment, but I was not terrified because I was with my family
As we began to cross over a large body of water, the plane started to tremble and shake a lot. The terror I had been keeping at bay suddenly overwhelmed me. I closed my eyes and, almost instinctively, said a prayer. I had learned to always pray when in trouble.
As I was asking my Heavenly Father for protection, I felt a calm assurance that everything would be all right. I opened my eyes and looked out my window. It was early morning, and while I had been saying my prayer the sunlight and the lake had merged to make the sky and water a deep blue—both foaming with puffs of heavenly white. It was one of the most beautiful sights I had ever beheld.
My fear left, and the clouds that once caused the plane to tremble now seemed like Heavenly Father’s loving arms,
Feeling safe, I began to study the water and the sky, imagining the raging storms that must occur in both. I thought about my own life, with all of the daily problems, or storms, that I am constantly getting caught in.
Though I had heen a member of the Church all my life, I had never realized before the great influence Heavenly Father can have. I knew then that he truly has provided an escape from the storms of the world. I realized that by praying and by holding to the iron rod, I could rise above the storms and reach spiritual heights where I could feel his love.
I have prayed every day since I was old enough to know how to without ever knowing my prayers were heard. But that day in the sky over Argentina, a simple prayer opened my eyes. That new awareness was only a starting point, but it helped me understand how much love Heavenly Father has for me. That’s one of the many ways I kow that he lives and that I should always call on him in prayer.

President Benson had an expansive spirit, a generous faith. He was always willing to extend a hand to help another back to the Master’s fold. As a young counselor in a stake presidency, he once challenged a man who had wandered from the faith to change his life and accept a calling as elders quorum president. Years later, the man saw Elder Benson on Temple Square and thanked him. “I am now a bishop,” he said. “I used to think I was happy, but I didn’t know what real happiness was.”

When it was time for my little sister, Hannah, to get her cast removed, Mom and I took her to the emergency room at the hospital. They were very busy, and so we had to wait in the hall. A little girl came in, screaming in pain and bleeding. They led us to another section of the hospital where we had to wait a long time. They moved that girl to the room next to us. I felt very bad for her as she cried. I knew how she felt because I had to get stitches once, too. I also knew that Jesus knew how she felt. That day my mom had taken me to a store so that I could buy a stuffed fabric toy with money I had earned. I thought that if I gave it to the little girl, maybe it would help make her happier, and I thought that’s what Jesus would do. So I said, “Mom, would it be OK if I gave my new toy to that girl?”
My mom said, “Of course!” We walked into the room where the little girl and her mom were. When I gave her the toy, her face lit up, and she changed from being sad and crying to having a huge smile. They both thanked me. I felt happy inside, knowing that I had chosen the right. I was trying to be like Jesus.

Everyone loves Christmas caroling! The missionaries at the Ghana Missionary Training Center were completing their classes on a Monday night before Christmas when they heard music coming from the courtyard. They went outside on that warm December night and saw the Africa West Area senior missionaries singing Christmas carols. It didn’t take long for them to join in and enthusiastically add their voices to those of the senior missionaries. The spirit of Christmas was strong as they sang well-loved Christmas carols such as Joy to the World, Hark the Herald Angels Sing and Silent Night. The final song was Called to Serve, which embodied the reason that both the young and senior missionaries were there! Singing could be heard in English, French, Portuguese and Swahili.

Another member, many miles away, shared the gospel in correspondence to a friend in Richmond, Virginia. A wonderful experience followed. Two missionaries were tracting one day in Richmond. One had been ill; the other felt uneasy as they walked the streets, knowing that his companion was not at his best. Both desired to persevere, however.

After two hours of having little success, they knocked on a door and introduced themselves as missionaries with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. “Oh, yes,” the woman replied, “Ann Smith sent you.” The elders looked at each other, shook their heads, then told her they were just knocking at the doors in the neighborhood and that no person in particular had sent them to her. She invited them in; the husband and other family members were present in the room.

She then told the missionaries something that caused them to marvel. She said, “Just an hour or two ago I finished reading a letter that I had received today from my dearest friend who lives in California. A year ago her husband and she were converted to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and were recently married in the temple. When we last heard, their marriage was falling apart, and she confided in me the sad situation. But today I received this ten-page letter telling me all about your church and the marvelous change it has made in their lives.”

She allowed the missionaries to read the contents of that letter, which covered Relief Society, Primary, Sunday School, MIA, and much, much more. Then they read a short note at the bottom, which said, “I will be sending two missionaries to your house to teach you more about the Church.”

After hearing the elders’ message, she said, with tears streaming down her face, “I believe the Lord sent you to us.”

When members and missionaries work faithfully together, they become as one and the Lord can use them to achieve his purposes among his children. The Lord had united as one the efforts of this faithful member and these diligent missionaries, to bring this family instruction which, if followed, will bring them joy and peace beyond measure and lead them back into the presence of our Heavenly Father.

I used to not like going to church because I felt I had no friends there. At school, I had friends I could laugh with. But I felt that the young women at church were different from me or might not like my personality. I started pretending to be asleep so I wouldn’t have to attend church.
Then the COVID-19 pandemic came, and we went through a time of losing things. I live with my mom and grandma. My mom lost her job, and we thought we would have to give up our home. I started looking for a cheaper place to live, but I didn’t find any. Instead, I found the Savior.
The Church started broadcasting church services online, and my mother would make me wake up and watch, which helped me to “fake it till I made it.” I felt like the Savior was reaching out to me, even if I wasn’t reaching out to Him. And when I started to reach out to Him, He made His hand more reachable. Losing things helped me find the Savior.
I felt like the Savior was reaching out to me, even if I wasn’t reaching out to Him.
Our bishop gave me a calling, and the other young women became my friends because I opened myself to them. Since I’d felt like I didn’t have friends, I realized others might experience this too. It made me think I should make the first move and reach out.
In the end, the Lord helped my mother find a new job. Thankfully, we still live in our home, and the Savior made it a holier place. I still laugh with my friends at school too. But nothing beats the joy the Savior offers.

I served in the United States Navy toward the end of World War II. I was a seaman, the lowest possible rank in the navy. Then I qualified to be Seaman First Class, after which I qualified to be Yeoman Third Class.
World War II ended, and I was later discharged. But I made a decision that if ever I went back into the military, I wanted to serve as a commissioned officer. I thought, “No more mess kitchens for me, no more scrubbing the decks, if I can avoid it.”
After I was discharged, I joined the United States Naval Reserve. I went to drill every Monday night. I studied hard that I might qualify academically. I took every kind of examination imaginable: mental, physical, and emotional. Finally, there came the beautiful news: “You have been accepted to receive the commission of an ensign in the United States Naval Reserve.”
I gleefully showed it to my wife, Frances, and said, “I made it! I made it!” She hugged me and said, “You’ve worked hard enough to achieve it.”
But then something happened. I was called to be a counselor in my ward bishopric. The bishop’s council meeting was on the same evening as my navy drill meeting. I knew there was a terrible conflict. I knew that I didn’t have the time to pursue the Naval Reserve and my bishopric duties. What was I to do? A decision had to be made.
I prayed about it. Then I went to see the man who was my stake president when I was a boy, Elder Harold B. Lee (1899–1973), then of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. I sat down across the table from him. I told him how much I valued that commission. In fact, I showed him the copy of the letter of appointment I had received.
Illustration by Paul Mann
After pondering the matter for a moment, he said to me, “Here’s what you should do, Brother Monson. You write a letter to the Bureau of Naval Affairs and tell them that because of your call as a member of the bishopric, you can’t accept that commission in the United States Naval Reserve.”
My heart sank. He added, “Then write to the commandant of the Twelfth Naval District in San Francisco indicating that you would like to be discharged from the reserve.”
I said, “Elder Lee, you don’t understand the military. Of course they will decline to give me that commission if I refuse to accept it, but the Twelfth Naval District isn’t going to let me off. With a war brewing in Korea, a noncommissioned officer will surely be called up. If called back, I would rather go back as a commissioned officer, but I won’t if I don’t accept this commission. Are you sure this is the counsel you want me to receive?”
Elder Lee put his hand on my shoulder and in a fatherly way said, “Brother Monson, have more faith. The military is not for you.”
I went home. I placed a tear-stained commission back in its envelope with its accompanying letter and declined to accept it. Then I wrote a letter to the Twelfth Naval District and requested a discharge from the Naval Reserve.
My discharge from the Naval Reserve was in the last group processed before the outbreak of the Korean War. My headquarters outfit was activated. Six weeks after I was called to be a counselor in the bishopric, I was called to be the bishop of my ward.
I would not hold the position in the Church I hold today had I not followed the counsel of a prophet, had I not prayed about that decision, had I not come to an appreciation of an important truth: the wisdom of God ofttimes appears as foolishness to men.1 But the greatest single lesson we can learn in mortality is that when God speaks and His children obey, they will always be right.

“Welcome to our class!” Sister Garcia beamed just like the spring sun shining through the classroom window. “I’m so excited to be teaching you older girls. You’re old enough to be good readers, and we can really get into the scriptures!”
Kirsten’s heart sank. She could read, but she knew she wasn’t a good reader. She took twice as long as her best friend, Ayisha, to get through a page when they were reading a magazine together. When she read aloud, words sputtered out of her mouth. That was always uncomfortable. After all, she was 10 years old. And reading the scriptures was especially hard. The words were so strange, and the sentences seemed to go on forever.
Ayisha put her hand on Kirsten’s shoulder. Kirsten looked over at her. Ayisha had written in her tiny notebook, “You’ll be OK!” Kirsten wondered how.
Kirsten took her turn reading that Sunday, but it seemed to take forever to get through the verse, and she just wanted to cry. The next week, before Sister Garcia even started the lesson, Ayisha raised her hand.
“I was wondering if Kirsten and I could cooperate on scripture reading today. Give us one scripture to work on together. I’ll read it, and Kirsten can draw a picture. She’s a great artist!”
Kirsten knew Ayisha was being kind, but she also felt like a big spotlight was shining on her, hot and uncomfortable. “I might as well have a sign hanging around my neck that says BAD READER,” Kirsten thought.
Sister Garcia seemed surprised. She looked at the girls and then smiled a little. “It sounds like fun,” she said. “And I think it would work well with our lesson today about Alma and Amulek. Are you willing to do that, Kirsten?” Kirsten nodded. “How about you other girls? Katie and Lauren, why don’t you be a team, too? And Elizabeth and Michelle?” She gave each team a scripture, and they began to work.
Kirsten couldn’t believe Ayisha’s nerve or her teacher’s sudden change of plans. But Sister Garcia’s smile, and the way she brought everyone into the idea, seemed to make it better. Kirsten drew a picture of Alma meeting Amulek. She realized she liked this story—two great missionaries and how they became friends.
The next Saturday, Sister Garcia showed up at Kirsten’s front door. “I just thought I’d drop by and see if you could take a special assignment for our class tomorrow,” she explained.
“What is it?” Kirsten asked. “Please, not reading,” she prayed silently.
“Could you present this scripture to the class?” Sister Garcia handed Kirsten a slip of paper.
“What do you mean, present it?” Kirsten asked.
“Well, you should read it out loud, but I thought I’d give it to you now so you can practice,” Sister Garcia said. “Then tell what it means to you. If you want to draw a picture, that would be great, too. I didn’t realize you had such a talent for art.”
“Am I the only one doing this?” Kirsten asked.
“Well, for this week, yes. But in coming weeks, all the girls will be taking turns.” Sister Garcia smiled in a way that seemed to make things OK. “I thought I’d have you go first. To tell you the truth, I’m eager to see more of your artwork.”
“OK,” Kirsten agreed. “I’ll do it.”
Kirsten read the verse out loud over and over. Then she spent all afternoon drawing a picture of Alma and Amulek healing Zeezrom, making sure everything was just right.
Finally, Kirsten made her way downstairs to where Dad was cooking spaghetti. “Can I practice my scripture for you, Dad?” she asked. Dad nodded, so Kirsten read, “Alma 15:8: ‘And Alma said: If thou believ … est in the re … demption of Christ thou canst be healed.’”
Dad stopped stirring the spaghetti sauce and turned around. “That was wonderful, Kirsten. Pretty smooth! I can tell you’ve been practicing. And your picture looks great! But you’re still missing one thing.”
“What? Did I forget something in the picture?” Kirsten examined her work.
“No, that’s not it. You should say how you feel about what you’ve read,” Dad explained. “The most important thing isn’t how you read or even how you draw, although both of those are great. What your class really needs to hear is how you feel about what you’ve read and drawn.”
Kirsten thought about this. “I guess I’m happy that Zeezrom got better and that he wasn’t being mean to Alma and Amulek anymore.”
“That’s good. Maybe you’ll want to say a prayer about it,” Dad suggested. “Think about what this scripture means for your testimony. That’s what you need to do. Bear your testimony.”
“‘If thou believest in the redemption of Christ thou canst be healed,’” Kirsten read in class, smoothly and confidently. “I have a testimony that this is true. I have been healed by the priesthood, too, when my dad has given me blessings. And when I prayed about this scripture I could feel the Holy Ghost.” She glanced at Sister Garcia, who nodded encouragingly. “I drew this picture to show Alma and Amulek healing Zeezrom. I’m so happy that Zeezrom changed from being an enemy of the gospel to becoming a great missionary, just like Alma and Amulek.”
Kirsten sat down. Ayisha flashed her notebook at her. “Awesome job, Kirsten!” the note said, with a big happy face. Kirsten couldn’t help but smile.

Pat Morrell didn’t let her age prevent her from starting something new either. Needing to supplement the family’s income, she returned to school after her children were grown and studied to be a nurse. Several years later, she graduated from nursing school and is doing work she has always wanted to do. “I wasn’t a good student in high school, so I was unsure whether I could complete requirements for nursing,” she says. “It took six years of squeezing classes in between a day job cleaning houses and caring for others to finish my degree. Besides time, it also took persistence, patience, and support from others—and many blessings.”