Gospel Story Finder

I was playing a game with some other children on a camping trip. Some of them started using bad words. I asked them to stop. Then another girl said we should play the game without using bad words. After that none of the children used bad words, and we had a lot of fun.
When I told my dad what happened, he said that I was a leader. He said a leader is someone who shows others the way and that my friend and I had shown the children how to play without using bad language. Now I know that even children like me can be leaders.

Some time ago, my family and I lived in Veracruz, Mexico, where my children attended elementary school. Each morning as I helped my three children get ready for school, we listened to the radio—the most popular station in the city—with a very pleasant program conducted by a young male radio announcer.
We began hearing a very catchy song. As I started paying closer attention to the lyrics, I realized that the things it said, though not vulgar, were suggestive and crude.
I said determinedly to my children, “We cannot listen to this type of language.” Perhaps they didn’t even pay attention to the lyrics of the song, but they did pay enough attention to be humming its tune.
They saw me turn off the volume on the stereo system and asked me what I was doing. “I am going to tell the radio announcer to take that song off the program.” Their astonishment encouraged me to take further action.
They couldn’t believe it and neither could I, but I picked up the telephone and called the radio station. I didn’t expect to get an answer, but to my surprise, the same radio announcer we had just heard on the show answered my call almost immediately.
I told him that I didn’t agree with listening to that song, since many families tuned in to the radio at that time in the morning. He asked me what I would suggest he replace it with, but his demeanor was so well-mannered that I asked only that he not play that song during the time when the children were at home.
I never found out if my call was on the air, but I was just grateful that the radio announcer had listened. And for the next few days, I could tell that my request had been granted.
That experience affirmed to me that we should be courageous when it is in our hands to make decisions and do what is necessary to protect our children from negative influences. As we do so, the Holy Ghost can continue being our constant companion.

Soon after Sabrina and Camila returned to church, they began reaching out themselves. When Ana Carolina Batista, age 14, began investigating the Church with her mother, the twins were there to help. The first time she attended church, Ana Carolina’s anxiety melted when the twins sat by her and showed her how to look up scriptures in the lesson. “This made me feel good, because I didn’t know what to do. I felt relieved to see there were people to help me,” she remembers.
Ana Carolina says the twins’ friendship made her decision to join the Church much easier. Sabrina and Camila were also happy; their little class was growing.

I close with a more personal experience that, I hope, will contain lessons of benefit to you. Like you, I too have observed that life presents challenges to everyone of us. Some struggle in certain areas, others in different ones, but we all face difficulties. In my case, for example, I have experienced problems with my eyes for years. Progressive myopia has caused strain on my eyes’ tissue-thin retinas. My vision continued to deteriorate while I was on my mission, especially during my final year. In March of this year I was referred by a local Moscow doctor to the highly regarded Fiodorov Eye Institute of Microsurgery in Moscow.

Following a thorough examination, the doctors there recommended a surgical procedure called scleroplasty, which is not uncommon in Moscow, although not well known or accepted in the West. The procedure was intended to stabilize my eyes and forestall further irreparable damage to my retinas. After receiving somewhat differing opinions from consulting specialists whom the Missionary Department and area presidency recommended, and after studying as much of the professional literature as the institute could make available to me, my wife and I prayed earnestly for inspiration to know whether I should have this operation. We prayed with all our hearts and often to know the Lord’s will.

In my life I have found that, following prayer, for me it is best to remain on my knees with my eyes closed and my mind and heart as open to inspiration as I can make them, and to wait on the Lord. During these moments as we sought answers regarding my eyes, I felt only the tiniest kernel of tender confidence that I should have the operation. We continued to pray and I continued to feel only barely assured.

Finally I decided to act on this faint confirmation and scheduled the operation. From that time my confidence grew quickly and held firm. I asked my wife how she was feeling and learned that her experience closely paralleled mine. As we made our decision, we had not known in every fiber of our beings; some of our fibers still had questions. We did not receive the specific assurance that the operation would end my eye problems, but we felt confident that it was in accordance with the Lord’s purposes for me to proceed.

This process of perceiving spiritual communication is beyond my ability to define in certain, unchanging terms. But I do feel that, while we should never disavow the possibility of angelic appearances or heavenly voices, neither should we remain insensitive to gentle enlightenment to the mind and quiet assurance to the heart. This was another confirmation to us to trust the deep, calm feelings in our souls.

Before the surgery I desired a priesthood blessing. I was surrounded by many of surpassing spiritual plenitude. I would have been honored to have any two of dozens bless me. As I continued my work in the mission, I felt certain that I would recognize the opportunity at the appropriate time to invite someone to provide the blessing as a complement to the moving and effectual prayers of my faithful wife.

It was when I was meeting with two members of the two Moscow district presidencies that I recognized I should ask these brethren to be the participants in this ordinance of blessing. After our meeting I invited the two men present, President Martynov from the north and President Petrov from the south, to give me a priesthood blessing. As they laid their hands on my head and spoke with humility and power beautiful words of comfort and blessing in the Russian language, I understood a remarkable truth: in my moment of need I had come to two worthy Moscow priesthood holders, neither of whom had been a member of the Church when our mission was begun in 1990. Further, I had been among those who had had the opportunity to teach them to anoint and bless the sick and disconsolate.

The operation itself was quite simple. The virtually painless procedure involved rotating the eyeball downward to expose the back of the eye. Small rectangular strips of human donor sclera, the white part of the eye, were carefully placed on the thinned back wall of my eyes.

Much of my life I have felt or wanted to believe, romantic that I am, that part of my soul, my aspirations and dreams, my cultural preference was Russian. Now I can proudly acknowledge that a portion of my physical being is Russian. Someone gave part of her- or himself that I might have the possibility of better health.

That is what we missionaries around the world hope to do—share something of ourselves, of our faith and conviction, that part of us which is most needed by others to affirm heartening meaning in this often perplexing life, in which we all see as though “through a glass darkly.”

My companion handed me an envelope and said, “Sister Jones, I think this is for you.” I looked at the return address and was pleased to see my cousin’s name printed neatly in the corner. I had just been transferred to a new city from the other side of southern France and didn’t think anyone back home in the United States was aware of my new address. I opened the envelope and read a short note in which my cousin said that she had recently received an e-mail from her French pen pal after eight years of no contact.
My cousin explained that although she and Céline had received each other’s address in their high school French and English classes, respectively, they had never actually written to each other. My cousin was therefore very surprised to receive Céline’s e-mail. She didn’t know if Céline lived in southern France where I was serving, but she included her name and address, asking me to contact her if possible.
Because I was new to the area, I handed the note to my companion and asked her if my cousin’s pen pal lived in the mission. “Not only does she live within mission boundaries,” she responded, “she lives in our district!” Excitedly, we called Céline to introduce ourselves, and she agreed to meet with us. We took the short train ride to Montauban.
As we stepped off the train, we were greeted warmly by Céline and her parents. They invited us to their home and asked us to share our message. As we taught them about the Book of Mormon and the Prophet Joseph Smith, the Spirit bore witness of the truthfulness of the restored gospel. The family expressed their appreciation for the values taught by the Church, and after a lengthy discussion we left them with a copy of the Book of Mormon, a prayer, and a promise to return.
That was the first of several visits with Céline and her family. My mission ended while they were still in the process of learning about the Church, but before I said good-bye to Céline, I asked her why she had decided to contact my cousin after eight years. Her response surprised me: “When I was cleaning out a drawer, I came across her address on a small piece of paper I thought I’d lost. I felt strongly that I needed to write to her.”
On the way home to our apartment I gazed out the train window and marveled at how a loving Father allowed a lost address to be found and an old connection to be made at the very time I was unexpectedly transferred to a new city for the last six weeks of my mission. He is mindful of all and will make miracles happen, even with such a small and simple thing as a pen pal’s address.

She has seen this in her family. When she was 10, she was asked to give a testimony of baptism in the Primary sacrament meeting presentation. The only thing is, she hadn’t been baptized yet. Her mother had not given her permission. So Laysa wasn’t sure what she would say in her testimony, but she went ahead. Then a miracle happened. “My mother was in church that day,” says Laysa. “I didn’t expect her to be there. That day, I got her permission to be baptized.”

President Quintana knows the importance of finding friends at church. The night of his baptism at age 18, his best friend told him he would never visit him again if he joined the Church. Ten minutes before the service began, Guillermo decided to go ahead anyway and left for the meetinghouse. “I lost my dearest friend that night,” he recalls. However, within two weeks he met the woman who later became his wife, and she became the friend who sustained him during his mission.

I have spent much of my life either on a construction site building or teaching about construction processes. I come from four generations of builders. As a young boy I remember my grandfather, who was a retired builder, coming to our home early in the morning to take me along with him to visit construction sites. We would sit together on the tailgate of grandpa's pickup truck watching some of the big buildings in Salt Lake being built. Just like a big-screen action movie, we watched together the heavy machinery digging and lifting and the workers moving up higher and higher, week after week. My father, also a builder, took me along at an early age to clean up job sites and then to work along with his construction crews. I grew up loving construction.

There’s one in every school. You know the type. The girl who seems to live a charmed life. Everything she touches—schoolwork, friendships, extracurricular activities—turns to gold. You wonder what her secret is and hope that maybe a little of whatever it is will rub off on you. But deep down inside you wonder if you can ever really be like her, because people like that seem to only come one at a time.
The Laurels in St. John, New Brunswick, Canada, however, seem to have misunderstood that “rule.” Instead of only one shining star in their school, all the Latter-day Saint girls are recognized on campus.
Take Sacha Koumbias, for example. She is student council president and works on a committee to build school spirit. Melissa Spragg loves to be in school musicals and plays. Virginia Clark—Ginnie to her friends—stands alongside Melissa in two of the school’s choirs and is a great dancer. Finally, Erin Robichaud was recently selected as the high school’s student of the year.
You might expect that in a group like this, there would be fierce competition, maybe even a little jealousy. But instead of jealousy there is support; instead of competition, encouragement. The girls say that when there are only four of you in a school of 1,000 students, there’s just no room for anything but good feelings and a lot of help from each other.
Being a member of the Church is what life is all about for these girls. When they talk about what excites them the most, it’s not an upcoming school dance or game; it’s the dedication of the Halifax Nova Scotia Temple. So, if it’s not what defines them, why spend time on all that extracurricular stuff?
“People at school know who we are,” says Melissa. “I think all of us feel a little bit responsible to stand out so that people will know Church members are good people.”
The high-profile activities these girls are involved in also afford them many opportunities to share the gospel.
“My friends always want to know why I don’t drink,” says Sacha. “I think that sometimes they think it’s a little weird, but they seem to respect us.”
That respect comes in handy when the girls are defending what they believe in at school. Like the time Sacha and Erin talked in one of their classes about how important marriage is, despite the fact that the rest of the class seemed to think that “a piece of paper” wasn’t necessary for people in love. Or the countless times Ginnie has told classmates that she does not now, nor will she ever, smoke cigarettes.
“When you face a bunch of people telling you that what you believe is silly or strange,” says Erin, “it’s nice to know that you’re not the only one who thinks a certain way. It helps you stay strong.”
Life isn’t always smooth sailing, even for these girls. Of all the problems this group has faced, they agree that Erin’s was the most dramatic. During a youth conference trip to the Toronto Ontario Temple a few years ago, Erin noticed that she was suddenly covered with what looked like huge bruises from head to toe. But she hadn’t been injured, or even jostled, in any way. It was only a matter of hours after she discovered these bruises that Erin was in a hospital in Ottawa—a day-long drive from St. John. She had acute lymphoblastic leukemia.
“Since I was so far away, I lost touch with friends from school, but Melissa and Sacha both came to see me,” she says. The years following weren’t always easy. Erin’s treatment was aggressive and tiring.
“Your perspective really changes after something like this,” she says. “Having good friends, good family, and the gospel is really what’s important.”
That support group comes through for less dramatic problems, too. Melissa dated a nonmember for a while. Melissa says they were too serious, and she felt that it wasn’t leading her toward the temple marriage she has as a goal.
“I knew I needed to end it,” says Melissa. “It was really tough, probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I knew it was the right decision, though, and the girls really helped me through it.”
Ginnie and Sacha have struggled with the stress that comes with the busy lives they lead. When things get too stressful, they know they can turn to their friends for understanding.
“It helps me to know that my friends are worried about the same things I am, especially getting good marks in school,” says Ginnie. “It doesn’t seem so bad when I know that they worry too.”
Soon the girls will be graduating from high school and receiving all the honors and accolades that girls like them typically get when they graduate. But that’s not what these girls will remember most about their years together. They’ll remember fun and good times, things like slumber parties, youth conferences, and stake dances. They’ll remember girls’ camp and testimony meetings. They’ll remember that they are daughters of Heavenly Father and that they had sisters in the gospel to help them stay strong.
No one ever told these girls that in order to win, everyone else would have to lose. Instead, they help each other, pushing and pulling until everybody reaches the top. And, not surprisingly, they not only make room for the four of them, but they always leave a little extra space, just in case someone else would like to join them.
Not long ago, there was a new addition to the Laurel class in St. John. Nathanielle Pître, who speaks French as her first language, doesn’t attend the same school as the rest of the Laurels. Instead, she attends a French-immersion school (her family is from French-speaking Quebec). Nathanielle, the only member of the Church in her school class, says she relies on the strength she draws each day at seminary.
“Sometimes it’s hard to be the only member at school,” she says. “But going to seminary, being with the other kids my age, really helps me feel good all day.”

I learned the power personal agency can play in the lives of others when I served in a stake young men's presidency. We gave everything we had to the youth of that stake: knowing their names, investing in their lives, and serving them in every way we knew how. This is a picture of that young men's presidency taken at 2:00 in the morning as we prepared on the eve of a youth event. But there is one thing that is wrong with this picture (besides the fact that it is 2:00 in the morning). There are no youth in the room. In our desire to serve, we had excluded the youth from the very activities that would have lead to their greatest growth. Fortunately, we soon ran into an experience that would change our service forever. In planning for a youth conference, we wanted to explore how perceptions of "what is cool" can be shaped by media and popular culture. Well, try as we might, four married men working at desk jobs were not going to tell the youth "what was cool." We were forced to involve the youth in developing the themes, writing the content, and leading the discussions. Our responsibility to direct and sharpen the experience did not diminish. But the youth were engaged in a role we had never experienced. By doing less, we had allowed our youth to do more. For me this story had implications not only for my service in the stake, but as a parent, a leader, and a teacher. Preach my Gospelexplains, "While learning from a good teacher is very important, it is more important for you to have meaningful learning experiences on your own."[18]

The activities of June Conference meant the end of a year’s work on the Mia Maid youth ad hoc committee for Margaret Anderson of the Salt Lake Foothill Stake. She and other committee members served as a sounding board by filling out questionnaires on activities and lessons and then passing surveys out to friends. “I’ve really learned about the needs of others this past year, especially the needs of other Mia Maids. June Conference gave me the opportunity to present a skit about really getting involved in the Young Women program. It’s also been a lot of fun meeting new people from all over.”

One of my hardest trials was when my mother had breast cancer. I thought, “Am I going to lose my mother? Why did this have to happen?”
Even when she was suffering, my mother wanted to be strong for us. She would say, “Let me hang the laundry!” But she couldn’t do it. We had to help. I learned a lot about service from that experience. Today, my mother is completely healed, and I thank Heavenly Father every day.

Let me tell what really happens when missionaries serve.
We had a neighbor boy who regularly passed our place headed for the mailbox, impatiently awaiting his letter of call. It seemed unusually long in coming after his recommendation was sent in. I observed this scene the day his letter came. He opened it at the mailbox, called his friend over, and they rejoiced together. Then he figuratively bounced down the lane to share the good news with his family. A few minutes later his sixteen-year-old sister came strolling by, headed home. I merely mentioned in a greeting that her brother had received his mission call. She instantly changed her pace and ran all the way home to join in the excitement of her brother’s call. Think of the anticipation, the joy, that gladdens hundreds of homes and hundreds of hearts each week—for this is a family call.

I’d like to say I made a great impression when I met Janette Burhold, but that would be a lie. I had just turned ten, and for my coming of age, my older brother Dan and his friends took me horseback riding. Dan even let me put on my own saddle for the first time.
“Don’t cinch the saddle up too tight,” said Dan. “It might bother the horse.”
“Okay, thanks,” I said. Dan and his friends all began to snicker. I didn’t know what was funny so I just smiled back.
We trotted out of our drive and started down the lane of our small Canadian town. There was a new girl, about my age, living in the house on the end of our road. I’d seen her in church the week before, and there she was waving to us as we rode up. We all waved back.
Well, to be honest, I didn’t wave. I was too petrified of girls to move, but I thought the impressive sight of me atop our black mare would set her heart to fluttering.
“Nice horses,” she called out. I grinned back, gaining confidence. “Where are you going?” she asked.
“We’re just riding up to the old barn,” said Dan, pointing up the hill.
“Wish I knew how to ride,” she said. “My mom said we might get a horse.”
I was going to say something at that moment. Something profound and impressive. But instead, my world collapsed around me. I shifted my weight a little and my horse let out a great breath. Before I knew what was happening, the saddle and me had slipped underneath the horse. I was still in the saddle, but I was upside down.
Dan and his friends were wailing with laughter. Even the new girl was laughing. I was humiliated.
“Shut up,” I said as I let go and tumbled to the ground.
“Didn’t you cinch your saddle up tight?” asked the girl. “Even I know you’re supposed to do that.”
That’s how I met Janette Burhold.
Over the next few years I gradually overcame my fear of girls, but never my fear of Janette. I saw her every school day, and every Sunday. But on those rare occasions I’d finally get enough courage to say something to her, I’d end up doing something really embarrassing before I got my first word out.
One time I sat down next to her in the cafeteria, and before starting in on my carefully rehearsed, spontaneous conversation, I opened a can of soda that exploded. It sprayed my head making my hair stand straight up all afternoon. Another time I walked into school determined to break the ice with Janette. Of course, after I’d been told I had a line of toothpaste drool down the front of my green T-shirt, I lost my nerve. By about 14, I gave up the idea of ever talking to Janette.
When we turned 16, Janette went to work after school in the only cafe in our small town. On my way home after wrestling practice each day, I would walk slowly by the cafe hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Dan told me I was crazy not to ask Janette out. Everyone at school knew I had a crush on her. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to do anything about it.
In Sunday School I was taught to have self-confidence. Unfortunately I couldn’t convince my tongue or my sweat glands to believe that. When I saw Janette, all I could think was how skinny I was, why my face wouldn’t clear up, or why my voice sounded like the noise a saxophone makes when you blow it wrong.
And then, Woody McCrae moved to town and I knew all hope was lost. He was tall, athletic, good looking, rich, and he even had his own pickup. Janette and her friends stood in the halls and giggled in admiration as he walked by.
To the female population of my high school, Woody was Aristotle, Hercules, and Steve Martin rolled into one. He’d pepper his conversations with phrases like “Cold out, ain’t it?” and any girl around him would laugh and grin like she’d just discovered teeth.
On a Tuesday night in December, Dan and I were doing homework upstairs. After a short chuckle, Dan looked up from basic algebra.
“What?” I asked.
“Guess who’s been giving Janette a ride home from the cafe every night?”
“What do I care?” I said, as nonchalantly as possible.
He shrugged and turned back to his book.
“Okay, who?”
“Woody McCrae,” said Dan.
My heart stopped. I pictured Janette riding in Woody’s yellow truck. They’d probably be married by the weekend.
“You waited too long,” said Dan, grinning. “Woody got to her first.”
“You don’t get to a girl like Janette,” I said back.
“Well, you didn’t.”
“What I mean is, just because he’s taken her home a few times doesn’t mean they’re going out … does it?”
Dan shook his head. “I’d still ask her out if I were you,” he said. “You’ve got nothing to lose. Plus, if you don’t you’ll regret it.”
“You don’t just ask a girl like Janette out,” I said. “It’s not that easy.”
Dan sat on the edge of his bed. “Look, chucklehead. You’re just going to walk the girl home, maybe ask her to a movie. You’re not going to get married. It’s just for fun. You’ve got a lot to talk about—you’re both Church members, you’re both in the same grade at school. And if you run out of stuff to say just talk about me. I’m a great conversation topic.”
What Dan said actually made sense. I’d worried about dating Janette for years ahead of time, and then, when I could date her, I was petrified. Dating wasn’t supposed to be stressful; it was supposed to be fun.
“So, how would you do it?” I asked. “How would you ask her out? I can’t compete with Woody’s vehicle … or his looks.”
“I don’t know,” said Dan. “But I wouldn’t look at everything that was wrong with the situation. I’d look at everything that was right. I’d think about what I have to offer and not what I didn’t have.”
After wrestling practice the next afternoon, I passed the cafe again. I walked back and forth a dozen times before getting the nerve to walk in. Finally I took a deep breath, made sure my shirt was tucked in, and walked through the door. I took a seat at the counter and when Janette said hi and asked what I needed, I mumbled that I wanted a chocolate milk shake. I looked around at the few people in the cafe and was sure they were all watching me.
“Kinda cold out there for a milk shake,” Janette said. She was wiping off the counter in front of me. I looked out the window at the falling snow.
“Oh, I like the cold,” I said, instantly regretting it. Why hadn’t I said something really cool? Then I looked into her green eyes, and she smiled and went off to make the shake. I took her smile as encouragement. The other customers were still watching me. I couldn’t get comfortable with them in there. I wished they would leave.
A minute or so later, Janette placed the shake on the counter and left the bill.
“Thanks,” I said, trying a deep voice and instantly regretting that too.
Janette turned back to me. “Are you okay, Andrew? You’re acting kind of weird.”
“Whatdoyoumean?” I blurted out.
“Oh, nothing.”
“No, no, no. Iwannaknowwhatyoumeant.” I couldn’t slow down. I was on a runaway train to embarrassment.
“I don’t know,” Janette said. “I shouldn’t say anything. I mean, even though we’ve known each other for years, we’ve never really talked. So I guess I don’t know if something’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I said, as slowly as my mouth would let me. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Okay,” she said, smiling. She turned to leave.
“There is something right, though.”
Janette was looking at me with the sweetest expression on her face. The world was a good place, and I was going to make it even better.
“I came in today to ask if you would …”
And then the door opened and a bolt of lightning flashed. In an instant, my brave notions were burned to a crisp. It was Woody McCrae. Janette looked up and smiled even brighter.
“Hi, Woody.”
Woody nodded at her and slid onto the seat beside me. Then they both looked at me.
“Go on, Andrew,” said Janette. “What were you going to say?”
This was all like the kind of dream you have where you walk into class late and realize you’re wearing Spiderman pajamas.
“Andrew?” she said.
I had to do it. Dan was right. It wasn’t the end of the world if she said no or yes. I had to do it.
“Janette, I’d like to know if I could give you a ride home tonight?”
Woody looked at me really mean—his face was tensed up so tight we could have used his forehead as a bicycle rack.
“Okay,” said Janette, with just enough enthusiasm. “I get off at 6:30.”
I mumbled that I’d be back, dropped two dollars on the counter, and left. I looked back as I walked down the snow-covered road. Woody McCrae was watching me and he didn’t look happy.
At half past six, Janette was standing on the cafe’s front step. It was cold, and she was breathing out small puffs of warm air as I walked up. I could feel my heart beating in my throat.
“Hi, Andrew. Where’s your car?” she asked.
“I need you to close your eyes,” I said. She shrugged and closed them.
From around the corner of the building I dragged my Rosewood Glider. It was a long, wooden sled, as old as me, with room enough for two. There were foot-high railings all around, and a heavy metal steering bar at the front. On the side I had bolted the broken end of a hockey stick so if I ever lost control I could pull back on it and drag the sled to a stop.
I told Janette to step up and I helped her in the Glider. Then I put one of my dad’s big parkas around her shoulders.
“I thought we could take the scenic way,” I said.
She opened her eyes and took it all in for a moment. “You’re going to pull me home?” she asked. She didn’t seem too happy.
“No, just to the corner. It’s downhill most of the way from there, and the road is covered in snow.”
She didn’t say anything; just sat there looking kind of stunned for a long time. My newfound confidence was slipping away with every silent second. I could already hear them at school. They’d probably be talking about this for months. “Hey, Andrew, where’s your sled? In the shop?”
But I couldn’t just stand there with Janette in the sled. I took a breath and began pulling her to the corner. Ahead of us, the sun was shooting long red ribbons across the darkening sky. We had about 30 minutes of light, more than enough to glide home. That’s if my plan actually worked, and we didn’t crash, or break a ski, or encounter any one of a number of other catastrophes.
Why wasn’t she saying anything?
At the top I swallowed hard, scanned the descent for oncoming cars, sat myself in the front of the sled, checked behind me, and then pushed us off. My life was over anyway.
The glider moved slowly at first, rumbling over a half-exposed patch of pavement. But then we hit powder and began an effortless glide through the new snow. Suddenly we were going fast—faster than I had planned. Snow began to sting my eyes. We passed the Wimmer place and took a stomach-jarring dip in the road. I heard a shout from behind me and turned around.
“You watch the road,” called out Janette.
She was laughing! I turned around just in time to see us heading toward a ditch. I tried to correct our track but the sled fishtailed one way, then another before finally landing in a snow pile.
Poooofff!
Janette’s face and hair were covered in snow. She opened her mouth, which was full of snow too. I figured all was lost.
“I’m sorry,” I said, pathetically.
“You should be!” she said, wiping off her face. “Why didn’t we ever do this before?” She pulled at my coat collar and dumped a handful of snow down my back.
“Now,” she said, getting to her feet and brushing the snow off, “I bet we can get another run in before dark. This time, keep your eyes on the road.”
She started pulling the sled up the hill. “If you keep to the middle and quit sightseeing, I bet we can get all the way to your house.”
Janette pushed us off this time, and the slide and the wind took our white breath in clouds from our mouths. We were both laughing! And that’s when I began to realize that it wasn’t so tough after all. Not the glide on the snow-covered road, but being with Janette—talking, laughing, being myself.
We slid down the hill, racing faster and faster into the coming night. And for a while, all my fears were suspended.

Just right, Andi thought as she quickly looked in the mirror. She was wearing her favorite red dress. She always wanted to look her best on Sundays. She ran down to breakfast.
Andi was just finishing her last piece of toast when the Reeders’ car horn honked from the driveway. “Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!” Andi said, kissing them as she ran out the door.
Even though Mom and Dad weren’t members of the Church, they encouraged Andi to go to church each week. The Reeder family had given her a ride almost every Sunday since she was baptized and confirmed. Andi liked how they always made her feel so welcome and loved.
After sacrament meeting it was time for Primary. Andi loved being in Brother and Sister Long’s class. They were kind, and their lessons were always the best.
“Today we’re going to talk about temples,” Sister Long said. “What are some things we know about temples?”
Andi knew one answer: “We can do temple baptisms.” She was excited about that because in a few years, she would be able to go to the temple to do baptisms.
“Great, Andi. What else do we know?”
“You can be married in the temple,” said Andi’s friend Allison.
“Very good,” said Sister Long. “Anything else?”
“Families can be together forever when they’re sealed in the temple,” Allison added.
But not my family, thought Andi. Mom and Dad haven’t been sealed in the temple! Suddenly her face felt hot, and her eyes began to sting with tears.
“Are you OK, Andi?” asked Sister Long.
“Yes,” Andi said, trying to hold back the tears. But she could feel her heart pounding all through the rest of the lesson.
When class was over, Sister Long sat by Andi and put an arm around her. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
“I won’t be with my mom and dad forever,” Andi said. “They haven’t been married in the temple. Who will I belong to after I die? Does Heavenly Father still love me even if my parents aren’t members?”
Sister Long looked straight into Andi’s eyes. “No matter who you are and no matter if your family has been to the temple or not, you are still part of Heavenly Father’s family. You can stay close to Him and be an example to others. He will always love, guide, and protect you, no matter what. He wants to bless you and your family. You are a child of God, Andi.”
Just then Andi’s heart seemed to skip a beat, and the pounding stopped. Now a warm feeling filled her heart instead. She knew what her teacher had said was true.

Holiness to the Lord in everyday life looks like two faithful young adults, married for a year, sharing with authenticity and vulnerability gospel covenants, sacrifice, and service in their unfolding lives.
She begins, “In high school, I was in a dark place. I felt like God wasn’t there for me. One night, a text from a friend said, ‘Hey, have you read Alma 36 ever?’
“As I started reading,” she said, “I was overcome with peace and love. I felt like I was being given this big hug. When I read Alma 36:12, I knew Heavenly Father saw me and knew exactly how I was feeling.”
She continues, “Before we got married, I was honest with my fiancé that I didn’t have a great testimony of tithing. Why did God need us to give money when others had so much to give? My fiancé helped explain it’s not about money but following a commandment asked of us. He challenged me to start paying tithing.
“I really saw my testimony grow,” she said. “Sometimes money gets tight, but we saw so many blessings, and somehow paychecks were enough.”
Also, “in my nursing class,” she said, “I was the only member of the Church and the only one married. Many times I left class frustrated or crying because I felt classmates singled me out and made negative comments about my beliefs, my wearing my garments, or my being married so young.”
Yet she continues, “This past semester I learned how to better voice my beliefs and be a good gospel example. My knowledge and testimony grew because I was tested in my ability to stand alone and be strong in what I believe.”

Elder Falabella learned early that gaining a testimony begins with a desire to know the truth and a willingness to live it.
Born on May 9, 1950, to Udine and Leonor Falabella, Elder Falabella was 12 when missionaries knocked on his family’s door in Guatemala City, where he was born and raised. The oldest of four children whose mother had died several years earlier, Elder Falabella recognized that there was something different about the missionaries. He saw it in the love they showed and the power with which they taught.
“I wanted to know what they knew,” he recalls. That desire and his willingness to do what the missionaries asked led to his conversion.
“Very early on I learned to appreciate the Savior’s words: ‘If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself’ (John 7:17). If we will live gospel principles, the Spirit can touch our hearts, and we will learn that they are really true.”

“You must remember the blessings you can have by being faithful,” says Marc-André Côté, 15, of Chicoutimi. “You should always keep that goal in mind. When Joseph Smith was discouraged once, the Lord reminded him to remember what he had been promised if he would remain faithful. [See D&C 6:13.] By thinking of the celestial kingdom and exaltation, you can find strength to overcome the struggles in your life.”
Marc should know. For four years he was away from the Church, but about two years ago he kept “asking myself what I was doing with my life. I was searching for something, and I remembered what I had felt in the Church. I felt the Spirit saying to me, ‘Go!’ and so I decided to try it just one time. I had imagined it would be difficult to come back, but it was easy. It was even better than I remembered. I read a lot and studied a lot and really gained a testimony that this is the true church, organized the way the Savior wants it to be.”

Last winter my daughter had a white-knuckle experience driving in a severe snowstorm. She reminded me of a similar situation I had with my two sons many years ago. My youngest son, Joe, was three years old, and my son Larry was six. We were traveling by car from San Francisco to Utah in June. The weather had been very good.
As we started our ascent to the Donner Pass summit in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, suddenly and without warning an enormous snowstorm hit us. None of the drivers was prepared. A semitruck in front of us had jackknifed and was spread across two lanes. Other trucks and cars had slid off the freeway. One lane was open, and many vehicles, including ours, were desperately trying to gain traction to avoid the other vehicles. All traffic then came to a halt.
We were not prepared for this blizzard in June. We had no warm clothing, and our fuel was relatively low. I huddled with the two boys in an effort to keep us warm. After many hours, safety vehicles, snowplows, and tow trucks began to clear up the massive logjam of vehicles.
Eventually a tow truck hauled us to a service station on the other side of the pass. I called my wife, knowing she would be worried because she had expected a call the prior evening. She asked if she could speak to the two boys. When it was the three-year-old’s turn, with a quivering voice he said, “Hope ya know, we had a hard time!”
I could tell, as our three-year-old talked to his mother and told her of the hard time, he gained comfort and then reassurance. Our prayers are that way when we go to our Father in Heaven. We know He cares for us in our time of need.

I experienced one such test that began about four and a half years ago. After being married for 23 years, having four beautiful children together, etc., my wife decided that she no longer wanted to be together as a couple anymore. To say that I was devastated by this would be a huge understatement. How could my sweetheart, the person I was sealed to, the person that I loved with all my heart, decide that she didn’t want to be with me anymore? I did everything I could to save our marriage, but in the end my efforts failed. By far, the divorce process and everything related to it is the most painful, hurtful, and debilitating event of my life. Through this ordeal I received help from so many, including my children, my parents, my sisters, and other family members, friends, co-workers, Church leaders, President Eyring, and a great counselor. Two weeks ago in the weekly devotional, Brett Cook talked about “Angels Among Us.” The people I just mentioned were certainly there for me in my time of need. Honestly, without their love, compassion, and help, I’m not sure that I would be here today. Even with all of the help I received, I was a shattered person. I felt rejected, my self-worth had been affected, I felt anger, and I wondered if I would ever be able to find love again. I honestly wondered if I could ever love anyone again like I had loved my wife. One day in August of 2016, I was working in my yard, and while working I was thinking about a particular scene from a movie that I had recently seen. The scene in the movie portrayed a time where Christ was walking the streets of Jerusalem and came across a situation where the Jews were stoning a man. Seeing what was going on, the Savior runs over to protect this man that is being stoned. Christ hunches over the man and is hit by the stones on his own back, head, and face. I know of no place in the scriptures that talk about any such event ever taking place, but it illustrates the kind of love that the Savior had for those in His time, and that He has for you and me. While I was working, I was reviewing this scene in my mind and thinking about the amazing love Christ has for us. While I was pondering on these things, the Spirit came into my heart and mind, and I felt this overwhelming sense of love for the Savior. Brothers and sisters, something astonishing had happened in that brief moment, because the hurt, the anger, and all uncertainty I had was taken away from me. Christ had somehow performed a miracle in my behalf that only He could perform.

In Matthew we read where the Savior said:
Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.[4]
There are some burdens that we are laden with that we can’t get rid of without heavenly help. In my own situation, I could not rid myself of the sadness, the pain, the hurt, and the anger from my divorce on my own.