Gospel Story Finder

“School’s out! School’s out!” the bell in the old brick tower seemed to sing. Its familiar chime wasn’t just announcing the end of an ordinary day—summer had arrived at last and it was time to put away pencils and close schoolbooks.
Gordon waved good-bye to his classmates and friends. For him, the end of school signaled the beginning of a summer spent miles away from the city on the farm where he could run barefoot in cool grass and wiggle his toes in a calm stream.
The family cottage, with its splendid mountain backdrop, was nestled in a stretch of land rolling with fruit trees and gardens. Cows grazed, horses raced, chickens roamed. The air was clean and fresh. The land held plenty of room to explore and plenty of opportunity to grow.
Bedtime was early because the call to chores came early in the morning when the dew still clung to tender grass and leaves. Farm work was hard work and everyone in the family was expected to do his or her part.
Weeding and watering the garden, gathering eggs, picking fruit, and attending to the chickens and horses went by quickly when everyone helped out. Father saved one chore especially for Gordon and his younger brother, Sherm.
The family cows would be the boys’ responsibility alone, and their father taught them how to care for the cows. Learning to tend to Polly and Beth wasn’t easy, but the reward was sweet, warm milk that the brothers enjoyed.
The milking companions were close in age, and even closer at heart. The two were inseparable in the city and nothing changed that on the farm. When they finished their chores, the warm summer days stretched before them, full of adventure. Drenched in summer sunlight, the brothers and best of friends rode in wagons, played on haystacks, and played tag.
Following their afternoons of adventure, when night had draped its darkness over every corner of the farm, the boys climbed into the old wooden wagon. Lying on their backs, they looked into the shimmering heavens.
Gordon and Sherm gazed earnestly at the millions of stars that filled the clear night sky. They pointed out and identified constellations they had read about in the encyclopedia. Then Gordon traced the outline of the Big Dipper, connecting the dots with his finger. And just off the cup he found the object of his search.
“There it is,” he said. Anchored in place, the North Star was always where it was supposed to be. Gordon knew that if a sailor charted his course by it, he could find his way safely home. “I want to be as steady as that star,” he thought.
There were many summer days on the farm and many nights sleeping under a blanket of stars. As Gordon grew older, he never forgot the lesson of the North Star.
Today, so many years after that young boy first gazed upward to find his favorite star, millions of people look to him. And true to the wish of his youth, his life reflects the message of the star that held its place in the heavens. As the prophet of God, President Gordon B. Hinckley can always be found helping to guide others safely home, steadfast and anchored as firmly as the North Star.
“[President Gordon B. Hinckley’s] constancy, service, and faith … are an anchor to us all.”Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, “President Gordon B. Hinckley: Stalwart and Brave He Stands,” Ensign, June 1995, 13.

The day I arrived in Mexico City as a General Authority with my family, I received a telephone call from a former missionary companion who wanted to talk to me that night. His oldest son, who was just starting his first semester of college, had died in a tragic accident. He was only seventeen years old and full of enthusiasm for life. He was faithful in the Church, and a seminary graduate. Just two weeks before, he had talked to his parents about desires and goals in life. Now he was gone. They understand the plan of salvation well and are sealed for eternity, but the physical separation affects them.
Those who have gone through this kind of trial recognize that there are tragedies that are so difficult we cannot understand them. We do not have an answer in this life for every adversity. When trials come, it is time to turn our souls to God, who is the author of life and the only source of comfort. “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you.” (John 14:27.)
Some months ago I heard that the wife of a friend was again threatening miscarriage. I hurried, along with others who were concerned about the baby, to make sure that things would be well. While arrangements were still being made, we were told that it was too late. This was the third time she had gone through this painful experience. I asked myself: What can I say to comfort them? How will the Lord help them overcome this new blow?
The day she left the hospital she heard about another sister from her stake who was going through the same experience. Full of trust in the Lord, she went to visit the sister and give her support. She changed her own tragedy into a blessing of comfort for others.
Thinking about her attitude, I remembered a lesson I learned many years ago when my father died. He died suddenly, leaving my mother a widow with fifteen children, ten of whom were dependent on her. This was a great tragedy in her life. Of course, the gospel, the fellowship of the Church, and our own testimonies gave us a solid base which comforted us and helped us to accept this loss with dignity. In spite of the fact that we never left her alone, it affected her deeply. Although she accepted the will of God, her soul did not find inner peace.
One morning as we were traveling downtown on a bus, she began to feel her loneliness. I noticed it, but also knew that I couldn’t give her the comfort she needed. She cried in silence, but with dignity. A lady passenger came up and said: “You seem to be very sad.” My mother answered, “I have just lost my husband.” Then the lady asked, “Do you have children?” and my mother answered, “I have fifteen children, and each one of them has some trait that reminds me of their father. So I am constantly reminded of him.”
When she heard this, the woman said: “You are truly blessed, because you only lost your husband. I lost my husband, too, and my two daughters in an automobile accident, and I am living alone. So I do understand your pain and sorrow.” Then she added, “Only God can help us overcome trials like this.”
Those who suffer great adversity and sorrow and go on to serve their fellowmen develop a great capacity to understand others. Like the prophets, they have acquired a higher understanding of the mind and will of Christ. To me, this woman was like an angel. She gave comfort and raised my mother’s thoughts toward God in a time of great trial. From that day on, each time my mother felt lonely or abandoned, she would say to me: “Son, pity the woman who lost all. I am grateful that the Lord has blessed me with fifteen children to be my companions in life.”
This personal experience has helped me understand the importance of what God revealed to Joseph Smith in the Doctrine and Covenants:
“Which suffering caused myself, even God, the greatest of all, to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body and spirit—and would that I might not drink the bitter cup, and shrink—
“Nevertheless, glory be to the Father, and I partook and finished my preparations unto the children of men.” (D&C 19:18–19.)
Christ has suffered more than any of us, and He knows the intensity of our afflictions. There is no suffering we have that He did not undergo in Gethsemane and on Calvary. That is why He understands and can help us.
Christ stated: “I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.” (John 11:25.) The greatest tragedy that can happen to a person is not the loss of his possessions, or his intellect, or his mortal life, but rather to lose eternal life, which is the free gift of God.
The scriptures are a witness of the various prophets—ordinary people, with extraordinary callings—who faced great tribulation and opposition. Father Lehi was commanded to abandon his gold, his silver, and his country. The sons of Mosiah had to renounce the throne. Job lost his lands, his cattle, and even his children, while Abinadi, Stephen, and Christ’s Apostles were killed in His service.
For some, the true trial of our faith is to remain faithful, without murmuring against the Lord, when we lose earthly position, family members, or even when we are required to give our very lives.
There is evidence in the scriptures that these great men trusted fully in the Savior, even without a full understanding of His purposes. The Prophet Joseph Smith learned, as he established the kingdom of God in this last dispensation, that the more he struggled to bless the lives of others, the greater was his opposition. He went to the Lord seeking justice. Christ did understand Joseph and suggested to him that he might have to suffer more. The Lord told him: “The Son of Man hath descended below them all. Art thou greater than he?” (D&C 122:8.)
Later, Joseph, with more understanding of the will and purposes of his Savior, accepted his glorious destiny by offering his life. It is not important to know the trials we may be required to go through in this mortal life. What is essential is our attitude in facing these trials and the lessons and experiences that we learn from them. These will help to refine our understanding and increase our spirituality.
Basically, we limit our vision to the events that happen in this life with the greatest emphasis placed on the present. Only when we fix our gaze on the heavenly things do we begin to understand the eternities. Only with the help of Christ can we fully overcome tragedy. It is necessary to develop our faith in Him as the Redeemer of the world. He taught us: “In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33.) It is my prayer that when we have afflictions we will follow the pattern that He taught during His bitter experience in Gethsemane. He said: “If thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done.” (Luke 22:42.) This I testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

“I’m not going,” I whined. “I don’t have a thing to wear!” The weekly Sunday ritual had begun.
At that moment, my brother rolled his eyes and said, “You have more clothes than anyone I know. You just never wear them.”
“Stay out of this!” I snapped, looking to my mom for support. “Mom, are you listening to me?”
She just looked at me, and I knew what was coming next. I placed my hands on one of the chairs, preparing myself for the long, boring lecture. But I was wrong. Mom just sat there looking at me.
The silence was about to drive me crazy when she finally spoke. “Julie, there comes a time when you have to decide just why it is you’re going to church. Is it a fashion show, or is it a time to worship the Lord?” When she finished, she stood up and left the room.
What was she trying to do to me, I wondered. No arguing? No lecture? All I wanted was a new dress. Ugh, I felt so guilty.
I walked to my bedroom to try to find something to wear. I opened the closet doors, fixing my eyes on my dresses. I picked up each one, finding an excuse not to wear it.
“I never expected her to run right out and buy me a dress,” I mumbled. “But I only have two dresses that I really like; the rest are ugly.” I was trying to make myself feel better, but it wasn’t working. I felt so selfish and guilty. I began to think of all the people who weren’t as fortunate as I was. I was about ready to cry. How could I be so selfish?
After putting on a dress, I knelt beside my bed to tell the Lord how sorry I was. Then I went to tell my mom the same thing. But when I went upstairs, no one was there. They had already gone to church. Although I could walk over by myself, I couldn’t believe they had actually left me.
I hadn’t been serious about missing church. But when I realized my family had gone without me, I felt even worse as my mom’s words rang in my ears, “There comes a time when you have to decide …”
Mom was right. Every week at church I only cared about what others thought of me, not what the Lord thought. That’s when a familiar scripture came to my mind.
“For the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart” (1 Sam. 16:7).
It was at that moment I decided my Sunday best had nothing to do with my wardrobe. My Sunday best was about the attitude in my heart.

At first glance, it looks like a rainbow is running wild. It’s twisting and turning and flowing all over a lush green hillside, in seemingly random motion.
But take a closer look, and you’ll see that the rainbow is made up of hundreds of girls in brightly colored T-shirts. They’ve come to this campground near Richmond, Virginia, for a three-day mother-daughter gathering, and each stake has been assigned certain colored T-shirts that correspond with each of the Young Women values.
The motion of the rainbow is actually being orchestrated by a small airplane flying overhead. It’s strafing the girls with packets of candy, and they follow its erratic flight over the hillside in hopes of catching extra sweets for their mothers and friends.
The theme of the encampment is “A More Excellent Way,” and all the activities, meetings, and programs focus on how living the Young Women values can help make lives better.
Included are songs, dances, talks, cheers, and even a rap by “Run LDS” that stresses the Young Women values.
But nowhere are those values more apparent than in the lives of the girls themselves. They are the values personified, each adding her own unique color to the rainbow that could only be formed when nearly 1,000 LDS women collect in one place.
Most doctors would be stunned to see Maria Turman at the encampment. As a matter of fact, they would be surprised to see her alive and smiling at all. Just a few short weeks ago, they were sure she was dying of brain cancer.
“I could barely stand the thought of what she would have to endure through whatever time she had left,” said her mother. “So we went home and called everyone we knew and asked them to pray for her. People of every faith joined us in prayer, and her name was in many of the temples.”
People fasted for her. People prayed for her. And they supported her in other ways too—like those who stood by her in the hospital, and the friend who told her that if she had to shave off her beautiful hair, he would shave his head too and, who knows, maybe they’d start a fad.
After a grueling two weeks of treatment and testing, her doctor came to her in total shock. “There’s been a miracle,” he said. “This girl does not have brain cancer. She does have another disease, but it is not fatal.”
Through all this Maria and everyone involved developed an incredible amount of faith—faith in the power of prayer, faith in the power of the priesthood from which blessings came that said she would be restored, and faith in the power and love of Heavenly Father.
Maria adds a sparkling, pure white to the rainbow.
Things don’t always go perfectly for everyone. All prayers aren’t always answered in the way we expect. Such was the case for one Laurel who would have given anything to have her non-LDS mother at the encampment with her.
“I prayed all summer long that my mom would share this weekend with me,” she said. “She didn’t. I cried, and I felt pretty down. I saw all the love between the mothers and daughters here, and I wished I could have that too. I have a friend here who was in the same position, so we decided to kneel down, just the two of us, and pray.
“I’ve never felt the Spirit so strong in all my life,” she continued. “I knew that Heavenly Father was right there with me. I knew that I’m his daughter and that I’m loved by him.”
Her mother did not attend the encampment with her, but she was able to learn about the love of another Parent. Knowing of that love and of her own divine nature will sustain her through trials for the rest of her life, and enables her to add a magnificent blue to the rainbow.
The women in the Perkins family were sorely missed back home. Their men were sitting silent in their plantation house at the end of a long, dirt road. The family plays bluegrass music together, but Susan, who plays the piano and upright bass, wasn’t around.
Lynda, the mother, who had never been separated from her husband except to give birth to a child, wasn’t there either. And Stacey, who adds the smile and sparkle, was also absent.
With the fuss the men put up about their leaving, there was no doubt in the women’s minds about their individual worth.
But they knew they needed to learn more about their lives as daughters of a Heavenly Father who loves them.
So off they went to the encampment, where they add their vibrant red to the rainbow.
Knowledge made the difference in Denver Mendiola’s life—knowledge of the English language, which she learned only two years ago, and, most important, knowledge of the truthfulness of the gospel.
Twelve-year-old Denver has not had an easy life. She was born in the Philippines, and her family was introduced to the gospel by missionaries tracting there. When Denver was ten, her mother was shot and killed, and her family divided. Denver came to the U.S. to live with her sister.
But Denver is not bitter. In fact, she was one of the happiest, most energetic girls at the encampment. Even when a minor accident caused her to need stitches, she was smiling and had a ready laugh. She’ll tell you it was because the doctor who sewed her up was gorgeous, but her positive attitude goes deeper than that. “I know that I’ll see my mother again, and that makes me happy,” she says. “I love being Mormon, and I know that the Church is true.”
That knowledge gives Denver a merry green to add to the rainbow.
It’s a critical time for Leah Guzman. The decisions she’s making now will affect her forever.
For most of her life, Leah attended her father’s church. But recently, since her parents split up, she’s been going to church with her mother at the Virginia Beach Third Ward. Although she’d attended LDS meetings when she was younger, it’s still a bit new to her, and she’s in the middle of deciding just how important the Church will be in her life.
The decision to come to the encampment was a big one for her, and she’s happy she made it. “I’m glad I came,” Leah said. “At the other church they had carnivals once a year and a church fair, but nothing like this, where you really get to know each other and learn things. I’ve decided to start coming to this church all the time. It’s different and I like it.”
Leah has many other important decisions ahead, but the one she’s already made adds a beautiful, bright orange to the rainbow.
Shanon Graber of Virginia Beach is the type of person who dives right into things with energy and enthusiasm. That’s why she was so successful with the fund-raising projects the youth in her ward sponsored all year long.
They did pizza sales and Valentine cookie sales and doughnut sales and garage sales. The girls in the ward needed money for girls’ camp and youth conference, as well as the mother-daughter encampment, and it was taking an awful lot of work.
But Shanon shined. She put her shoulder and her heart to it and ended up making more than enough to cover her expenses. So what did she do with the excess? “Sister Murdock?” she asked her adviser, “do any of the other girls need any help?” Shanon, a Mia Maid, ended up donating enough money for two more girls to come to the encampment.
Those good works help her add a brilliant yellow to the rainbow.
“It was the first time I’d performed in public in four years,” said Gretchen Williams, from Newport News, when talking about her performance the night before in the opening program. She danced a ballet solo while a friend sang a song. What most people didn’t know is the she’d given up her beloved ballet several years earlier because she was afflicted by painful arthritis.
When Gretchen arrived at the encampment, she discovered that the stage would be much smaller and shaped differently than the one she’d rehearsed on. It would have been easy to back out, using her physical pain or the unfamiliar stage as an excuse. After all, under the given circumstances, there was no way she could perform her best, and hundreds of people would be watching. But Gretchen wouldn’t think of pulling out.
She realized, as the program she performed in said, “Integrity is doing what you know you should do, even it it’s inconvenient or difficult.”
And with that she adds a deep, rich purple to the rainbow.
Each girl at the encampment contributed her own, unique shade, and the mothers helped mix them together. “This is so good for our girls—being able to come here and share with so many other people who have the same morals and standards as they do,” said Linda Floyd of Waynesborough. “We’re all just walking around about two feet off the ground.”
Nothing could dampen their spirits, not even the warm Virginia rains that came and ended the encampment a day early. The rainbow colors ran a bit, but only to become beautifully blended.
People worked together to make sure that everyone left dry and happy.
“It’s programs like these that make mother-daughter relationships that last for eternity,” said Tara Romney, from Newport News.
The commitments, the decisions, and the loving relationships that were made and cultivated that weekend certainly do have eternal significance. They create a brilliant, beautiful rainbow that will span from this life into the next.

I’ve had a testimony of the Book of Mormon since the first time I read it when I was younger. But truthfully, my scripture “study” in the months preceding the October 2018 general conference felt more like casual skimming. So when President Nelson challenged the women of the Church to read the Book of Mormon by the end of the year, it felt like just the invitation I needed.
His invitation came with some powerful promises too. He said, “As you prayerfully study, I promise that the heavens will open for you” (“Sisters’ Participation in the Gathering of Israel,” Liahona, Nov. 2018, 69).
As I listened, I felt excited to recommit to the book I’ve grown to love so much, and I couldn’t wait for the heavens to open for me.
And they did. In so many ways. After completing this Book of Mormon challenge, I’ve spent time pondering on the experience I had and am still having. I’m amazed by what I learned, how I felt, and who I am becoming by studying its inspired pages.
As I read the Book of Mormon at a quicker pace than I am used to, the narrative really came alive. I felt such a connection to those whose testimonies and experiences make up this book.
From Nephi’s brother Sam, I learned that quiet righteousness is noble. From Alma I learned to never surrender my faith. From his son, that it is never too late to approach Christ and experience the cleansing power of His infinite Atonement (see Mosiah 27; Alma 36). King Lamoni’s father inspired me to make more sacrifices for God (see Alma 22:15, 18). Pahoran taught me to be calm and Christlike when I feel misunderstood (see Alma 61). From the brother of Jared I learned that while action on our part is essential, it is not enough; we need Christ’s help and enabling power (see Ether 2–3). From Moroni I learned that though we may feel alone, we never truly are (see Mormon 8:3, 5).
I learned to inquire of the Lord often, to pray fiercely and with faith. I learned the importance of keeping records and bearing testimony and the proper way to repent. I learned that God is mindful, that Christ is merciful, and that They are one in purpose.
I learned that “[feasting] upon the words of Christ” (2 Nephi 32:3) provides the direction I need for my life.
I learned, yet again, that Joseph Smith did not—and could not—write this book.
Was it a coincidence that I read Nephi’s psalm (2 Nephi 4) on a day I felt bogged down by my inadequacies and weaknesses? Of course not. Was it a happy accident that I encountered King Limhi’s declaration, “O how marvelous are the works of the Lord, and how long doth he suffer with his people” (Mosiah 8:20) when I felt alone in my trials? No! With God, there are no coincidences, only perfectly orchestrated tender mercies, and I was the recipient of many as I read. I truly felt my Heavenly Father’s love for me and an incomparable sense of peace as I immersed myself in the Book of Mormon.
It was the Savior’s healing power that I felt most throughout my reading of the Book of Mormon. Verse after verse testifies of His grace, mercy, compassion, and infinite love. As I read about Jesus Christ, I felt overwhelmed with gratitude for His sacrifice. One of the greatest miracles I experienced while reading was the feeling of complete forgiveness for a series of poor choices made years ago. I felt as though the Savior was speaking directly to me as I read. In my heart I felt the words, It’s time to move on. Christ literally provided the healing I needed.
Though I did not see the resurrected Christ as the Nephites did (see 3 Nephi 11), I felt His presence in my life as I read about Him in the Book of Mormon. He truly understands each one of us and our unique trials, and He has the power to save, comfort, and heal us.
As I daily immerse myself in the Book of Mormon, I am more patient, compassionate, grateful, and optimistic. I tend to be less selfish and less concerned with worldly things.
Because of the Book of Mormon and the Spirit it brings into my life, I am a better mother, wife, daughter, and friend. I am a more committed disciple of Jesus Christ.
How can one book have all the answers? How can one book accomplish so much?
Only a book designed by God has that kind of power. And I know it really is of God.
Just as President Nelson promised, the heavens really did open for me, in more ways than I could have ever imagined. So I will continue to read and study the Book of Mormon. I will continue to search its pages and find Christ there because this book really is all about Him.

When I was young, I worked in my father’s factory during vacations. The first question my father always asked after I received my salary was “What are you going to do with your money?”

I knew the answer and responded, “Pay my tithing and save for my mission.”

After working with him for about eight years and constantly answering his same question, my father figured he had taught me about paying my tithing. What he didn’t realize was that I had learned this important principle in just one weekend. Let me tell you how I learned that principle.

After some events related to a civil war in Central America, my father’s business went bankrupt. He went from about 200 full-time employees to fewer than five sewing operators who worked as needed in the garage of our home. One day during those difficult times, I heard my parents discussing whether they should pay tithing or buy food for the children.

On Sunday, I followed my father to see what he was going to do. After our Church meetings, I saw him take an envelope and put his tithing in it. That was only part of the lesson. The question that remained for me was what we were going to eat.

Early Monday morning, some people knocked on our door. When I opened it, they asked for my father. I called for him, and when he arrived, the visitors told him about an urgent sewing order they needed as quickly as possible. They told him that the order was so urgent that they would pay for it in advance. That day I learned the principles of paying tithing and the blessings that follow.

The choir’s effectiveness as missionaries for the Church can be attested to by their August 1985 trip to Japan. Choir members made a commitment to do more personalized missionary work, and distributed more than a thousand Japanese copies of the Book of Mormon. In addition, they distributed more than 3,000 brochures about the choir, and approximately 3,200 Articles of Faith cards.
Within two months of the choir’s visit, Elder William H. Bradford, Area Administrator in Japan, “told us that several baptisms had been traced directly to the copies of the Book of Mormon that had been distributed by choir members,” related Brother Ottley. “We may never know the total number of people we influence through our music or through the personal contacts we make.
“While in Japan, I met and talked with one lady who had been studying the gospel for months but committed to baptism that very night at the concert. That’s the most gratifying part of our work. While we like to do things that are musically viable and important, if we can touch someone’s heart and spirit through our music and cause them to feel about the gospel of Jesus Christ the way we do, then we are doing what we are supposed to be doing.”
As an example, on the 1985 trip, Marilyn Smith was introduced to a Japanese woman who attributed her membership in the Church and the mission she just completed to the spirit she felt when Marilyn sang a solo during the choir’s previous trip to Japan.

As a new employee with LDS Humanitarian Services, Sharon Eubank witnessed misery, sadness, and grief that made it hard for her to function. Through prayer, she came to understand that although she could help the Lord take care of His children, she was not in charge of that sorrow. “Jesus Christ is in charge. He will bear this burden. They are His people, and He hears and answers their prayers.” That answer changed her ability to reach out and serve.

Some years ago, Dr. Faun Hunsaker, then president of the Southern States Mission, was invited to stay at the home of a member. He arrived after the children were in bed.
He occupied the parents’ bedroom, and during the night heard the door open and the sound of little feet. A little boy frightened by a bad dream had come to his parents’ bed for comfort.
Sensing that something was different, the little boy felt Brother Hunsaker’s face. So he spoke quietly to the child. The startled youngster said, “You’re not my daddy!”
“No, I’m not your daddy.”
“Did my daddy say you could sleep here?”
“Yes, your daddy said I could sleep here.”
With that the little youngster crawled into bed with Brother Hunsaker and was soon asleep.
...
I said at the beginning that I might well conclude with the account of that trusting little child. I think I will do just that:
“You’re not my daddy.”
“No, I’m not your daddy.”
“Did my daddy say you could sleep here?”
“Yes, your daddy said I could sleep here.”
With that, the little boy was soon safely asleep in his arms.
God grant that all little children will be safe with every one of us because their Father and their God and our Father and our God said we could be here. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

During a recent trip, Julie and I attended church and saw this verse in action. A young man, soon to leave for his mission, spoke in sacrament meeting.

He said, “You all think my dad is such a good man at church, but …” He paused, and I anxiously wondered what he might say next. He continued and said, “He’s a better man at home.”

I thanked this young man afterward for the inspiring tribute he had paid his father. I then found out that his father was the bishop of the ward. Even though this bishop was serving his ward faithfully, his son felt that his best work was done at home.

The second element is further demonstrated in this entertaining piece from the chronicler Francisco Dávila’s writing in 1598:
“They say that anciently the world was to be destroyed, and it happened like this: as one Indian tied up his llama in a good pasture … the llama talked to him, saying: ‘Loco, what do you know, or what do you think? Understand that I am worried, and with good reason. You should know that in less than five days the sea is going to swell and burst open until only it covers the whole earth … you must take refuge on the summit of the mountain Vilcacoto.’ Carrying his belongings on his back, and taking his llama on a leash, the Indian arrived at the summit of the indicated mountain where he found many diverse animals and birds huddled together. … The waters rose until only the summit of this Vilcacoto was not covered. … Finally the waters rose so high that some of the frightened animals were almost in it. The fox, for instance, was close to the water, waving his tail in the waves, which is the reason why the fox’s tail is black at the tip. And at the end of five days, the waters began to recede and the sea returned to its former place, even lower than it had been before, and thus the entire earth was cleansed of people except the Indian referred to.”10

My husband and I were living in a second-story apartment with our small son and daughter. We looked forward to Christmas that year with our two children. Our son was growing fast, and as any normal toddler, he liked to move a lot. He often ran around the apartment just for fun. We enjoyed his antics, but our neighbor downstairs was rather impatient. He often turned up his music in retaliation and came upstairs to complain to us.
It was a frustrating situation for us. What is a little boy supposed to do all day if he is not able to move freely? It broke my heart to keep him quiet when he was so full of gleeful energy. We met with our apartment manager and our neighbor to try to resolve the conflict. As we talked I noticed that our neighbor was especially defensive in his words and attitude. During the discussion, the Savior’s words from Matthew 5:44 came to my mind: “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.” I did not necessarily consider him an enemy, but we certainly didn’t see eye to eye.
He was in the military, and his wife had not been able to join him yet, so he was alone in a strange town. And when he came home from work, he had to deal with this noise above his apartment. I began to see how difficult it might be for him, but I still did not have a fair solution. I started to pray for him, and my heart was touched to be a little more sympathetic.
We welcomed my husband’s parents to spend the holidays with us that year. On Christmas Eve we were enjoying each other’s company and the special spirit of the season. Soon we heard and felt the vibration of loud music coming from the apartment below. It seemed very loud this time, but I remember feeling sorry for him rather than impatient. Thinking about the verse in Matthew 5, I made up a plate of homemade Christmas cookies for our neighbor.
My husband and I went down to deliver them. When our neighbor opened the door, he scowled at us and said, “WHAT?” I could tell he was expecting an unpleasant confrontation. Instead, we ignored the loud music and wished him a heartfelt merry Christmas. We smiled, and I could see his face soften as he accepted the cookies. He smiled back and thanked us, wishing us a merry Christmas also. It wasn’t long before the music was turned down.
We saw our neighbor outside a few days later, and he thanked us again for the cookies. He was smiling at us again, and we found it easy to smile back at him. We asked him if he had a church to go to, because he was new in town. He said he hadn’t found one yet, so we invited him to our church, and he accepted our invitation. He began visiting with the missionaries and soon wanted to be baptized. He and our son had their picture taken together on the day of his baptism.
I don’t remember any more problems with loud music, but I do recall the special blessings of following the scriptures in our lives. It still warms my heart to remember how the simple gift of Christmas cookies quickly changed an unpleasant relationship into a wonderful friendship.

9:28 A.M.
Elder Darren Majeran and Elder Josh Graham say a prayer, grab their bike helmets, and head out the door. No car for them. They need to get to Bonnie Brae Street for an appointment with an investigator, but they have a little time before that so they go on two callbacks to people they’d met last week. They pedal down the driveway and onto the street.

9:55 A.M.
There is no answer at either home, so back on the bikes they go. Their investigator on Bonnie Brae likes what he has heard about the Church, but he is having a problem understanding the concept of the priesthood and authority. They’re prepared to try to answer his questions.

10:07 A.M.
The investigator seems happy to see the missionaries. He has read two of the pamphlets the elders left with him on their last visit, and he’s prepared to discuss them. He seems very earnest in his desire to learn. He’s just not sure he can accept what they are teaching.

11:20 A.M.
“I thought it went okay,” Elder Majeran says after the meeting. “It’s just going to take some time.”
Next stop: the corner of Harvard Street and Ramona Avenue. The missionaries lock their bikes to a stop sign and begin going door to door. Elder Majeran and Elder Graham go to 19 houses, but very few people are home, and nobody invites them in.

12:15 P.M.
The missionaries break for lunch and talk about what just happened and what’s ahead. Elder Graham has been a missionary for about seven months, and he’s settled into a daily routine. “I guess the work has been the way I expected it to be. I haven’t done quite as much teaching as I thought we would,” he says. “But when you do, and you see people make changes in their lives and know you’ve been a part of that, it’s great.”
He continues: “If we tracted for a whole day and did nothing else, we’d probably get in maybe two or three doors.”
“We do a lot of talking through screens,” Elder Majeran adds. “But we usually have pretty good success once we get in.”
Today won’t be one of those days, however.

1:22 P.M.
It’s more of the same in the afternoon, although there is something to look forward to tonight. A family committed to receive baptism is scheduled for a sixth discussion, and another family in the ward has invited the missionaries to dinner.

7:03 P.M.
With dinner concluded (“The chicken was really good. Sister Wilson is a great cook,” Elder Graham says), the missionaries end up teaching a discussion to a person referred to them by a member. That is followed by the discussion to the family scheduled to be baptized.

9:35 P.M.
Another day is complete. Elder Majeran is tired but happy. “Not bad. We got a lot done today,” he says. As they change from their proselyting clothes and get ready for bed, they make phone calls to the zone leaders and the ward mission leader.

I was raised by wonderful parents who loved and faithfully taught us, their children, the gospel. Sadly, my beloved parents struggled in their marriage for years. I was a Primary child when I was told that they would likely divorce someday and my siblings and I would need to choose which parent to live with. As a result, for years I experienced significant anxiety; however, a gift from my Heavenly Father ultimately helped change everything for me—my patriarchal blessing.
At age 11, increasingly worried about my parents’ relationship, I deeply desired my patriarchal blessing. I knew that my Heavenly Father knew me perfectly and knew my specific circumstances. And I also knew I would receive direction from Him. Immediately after my 12th birthday, I received my patriarchal blessing. That was more than half a century ago, but I vividly remember the details of that sacred experience.
My patriarchal blessing was critically important to me when I was young for numerous reasons. First, through the power of the Holy Ghost, my patriarchal blessing helped me understand my true eternal identity—who I really was and who I could become. It helped me know, as President Nelson has taught, that I was “a son of God,” “a [child] of the covenant,” and “a disciple of Jesus Christ.” I knew that I was known and loved by my Heavenly Father and my Savior and that They were personally involved in my life. This helped me desire to draw closer to Them and increase my faith and trust in Them.
I studied my patriarchal blessing frequently and, as a youth, often daily, which helped me feel the comforting, guiding influence of the Holy Ghost, who helped reduce my anxiety as I followed His promptings. This increased my desire to actively invite light, truth, and the Holy Ghost by studying my scriptures and praying daily and trying to more diligently study and follow the teachings of God’s prophet and apostles. My patriarchal blessing also helped me desire to be more submissive to the will of my Heavenly Father, and that focus helped me experience great joy, despite my personal circumstances.
I received spiritual strength each time I studied my patriarchal blessing. When my parents finally did divorce, my patriarchal blessing, as President Thomas S. Monson taught, had for me become “a precious and priceless personal treasure,” even “a personal Liahona.”
Now, please don’t misunderstand. I wasn’t perfect. I made all sorts of mistakes. My eternal companion would confirm that I still do. But my patriarchal blessing helped me and continues to help me desire to do better and be better. Frequently studying my patriarchal blessing increased my desire to withstand temptation. It helped me have the desire and courage to repent, and repentance increasingly became a joyful process.
It was vital for me to receive my patriarchal blessing while I was young and while my testimony was still growing. And I am forever grateful that my parents and bishop understood that my desire indicated I was ready.
Not everyone will desire their patriarchal blessing when I did. But I pray that members who have not yet received their patriarchal blessing will prayerfully seek to know when they are ready. I promise that if you prepare spiritually, your experience, like mine, will be sacred to you. I also pray that those who have already received their patriarchal blessing will study it and treasure it. Cherishing my patriarchal blessing while I was young blessed me with courage when I was discouraged, comfort when I was fearful, peace when I felt anxious, hope when I felt hopeless, and joy when I needed it most. My patriarchal blessing helped increase my faith and trust in my Heavenly Father and my Savior. It also increased my love for Them—and it still does.

Karen is now a dear friend of mine. But I didn’t know her until I became her ministering sister. My ministering companion was a kind young woman named Ella, who was a senior in high school. We received the assignment to minister to Karen when she was just starting to return to church.

As we ministered to Karen and learned her unique story and needs, Ella and I felt impressed to invite her to come to the temple. This effort enlisted Ella’s tech-savvy skills to fix issues with Karen’s online Church account so she could pay her tithing and make a temple appointment. And I took her to get new temple clothing and helped her feel comfortable going. Karen seemed to glow and be filled with peace and happiness as she and I sat together in the celestial room following the session.

Karen experienced major health issues but also incredible miracles during the time we ministered to her. Supporting her during this time strengthened all of us in the Lord.

We invited her to join us for Relief Society and Sunday School and spent time with her in her home. She has grown beautifully confident in who she is and who she wants to become. She has started to see the good in herself.

When I asked Karen if I could share this special experience of being her ministering sister, she said, “Go for it! Let them know there is a Heavenly Father who loves [them]!” She said the love and concern Ella and I had for her taught her that she needed someone in her life. She said, “They will never know how much I needed them. … Ministering sisters are sent from God.”

Money, or the lack of it, became a major issue. My mom worked two jobs. When my best friend wanted me to go shopping, I was too ashamed to tell her we barely had enough money for food—let alone clothes.
Seeing how bad I felt, my mom taught herself to sew and made me a few outfits. As good as her intentions were, none of the outfits turned out very well. She made me a pair of pants that were not only too short, but they were such a bright color that I felt self-conscious. As much as I didn’t want to wear them or any of my homemade clothes, I also didn’t want to hurt Mom’s feelings.
The day I wore those pants to school still stands out in my mind as one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. Mike, one of the most popular guys at school, always took time out of his busy schedule to make fun of my homemade outfits. The day I wore those pants I gave not only Mike but everyone else something to laugh about.

When Cathy Gurley was young, she had a dream. More than anything else, she wanted to be Miss Rosewood, queen of her school. Her goal was to be someone that the other students at the school would look to as an example. So she practiced dancing and singing, talents she thought would help her win the contest.
When she was a senior in high school, Cathy was voted Miss Rosewood in the town of Goldsboro, North Carolina. Then she started winning other contests, like the district FHA Sweetheart, and queen of the Wayne County Fireman’s Pageant, and eventually Miss North Carolina Teen Hemisphere.
But on her way to those recognitions, Cathy became a real winner when she developed another talent. It wouldn’t help her win a contest, but it helped her win friends and lift the spirits of people who needed help. Cathy learned how to care about other people.
“I really enjoy helping people,” said Cathy. “When I smile, I like to see them smile back. And so many people need someone to help them.”
Cathy has been helping people—the elderly, the retarded, the handicapped. She’s spent hundreds of hours visiting her friends at rest homes, singing at dances for retarded people, visiting at a center for severely retarded people, adopting a grandparent, helping her mother teach a Sunday School class for the retarded, and being a friend to people who are too often friendless. Cathy’s mom gave her encouragement along the way and helped organize many of the parties where Cathy performed.
“My older brother Bobby is retarded, so it’s natural that I’d associate with other retarded children,” said Cathy. “I couldn’t ask for a better brother. He’s seven years older than I am, and I was born on his birthday. He’s always said that I was his birthday present. We’ve been very close.”
Cathy would go to parties for her brother Bobby and his friends and sing for them. “I’ve always wanted to be an entertainer, so it was fun for me. They don’t care how bad you sing. They appreciate even small things. The rest of us need to be more like they are.”
Cathy’s mother worked in rest homes when Cathy was little and sometimes had to work on holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas. “I wanted her to understand why I couldn’t be at home, so I’d bring her to the rest homes with me on those holidays,” said Sister Gurley.
“She’d leave me and go talk to the people. Cathy has never been afraid of a retarded or elderly or handicapped person, maybe because she was brought up around them.”
Growing up with her brother also helped Cathy develop sensitivity to others. Her mother said, “I’d come home from work tired, and Bobby would say he wanted to go meet his friends. I’d tell him I was just too tired and couldn’t get him dressed. Then Cathy would say, ‘If I dress him and get him ready to go, would you take him?’
“Christ told us we need to become like little children. So many of these people have that sweetness like little children. They never hold a grudge or lash out at people,” added Sister Gurley.
Cathy has also spent many hours helping at rest homes. “I guess because I was so close to my grandparents and my mother is a nurse, it was easy for me to volunteer my time,” said Cathy. “My Aunt Mamie worked as a recreation specialist at a rest home when I was 11, so she’d ask me and my cousin to go over there and help. We’d spend the whole day. We’d play bingo with the people. I’d help roll them in their wheelchairs out into the middle of the halls for supper, deliver the mail, read to them if they needed it, and just talk.”
Eventually, Cathy “adopted” a grandfather, a friend of her grandmother.
“My grandfather died when I was very young, so my grandmother started dating Waldo,” said Cathy. “They’d come out to my house to visit, and I enjoyed his friendship. When my grandmother died, he sort of got out of circulation and didn’t have any companionship. My grandmother had more or less taken care of him and fixed him supper each day. So Waldo and I kept in touch, and I decided to adopt him. I’d call and see how he was doing, stop by to see him, visit him on holidays, and take him treats. Now he’s in a rest home, and we keep in close touch.”
Cathy has helped with a Sunday School class for the handicapped, too, held in her home after regular church meetings. The first hour of the class the students learn about the scriptures, and the second hour they do crafts. Cathy often makes cookies or cupcakes for them. She also found time to organize a drill team for grade school girls.
Cathy has always found time to accomplish her goals. She has helped with political campaigns and even served as a page in her state legislature. She attended seminary for four years. (“It really helped me gain a testimony,” said Cathy.) She took modeling classes for several years, and her teacher encouraged her to enter the Miss Teen North Carolina Hemisphere competition.
“I won the state competition, so I competed in the nationals, which were held in Philadelphia and included the western hemisphere—Guam, Canada, the U.S., and the Bahamas,” Cathy said.
“I learned that it wasn’t that important to be beautiful. I just wanted to put on my jeans and be myself, but for 24 hours a day I was there fixing my hair and putting on lipstick, and I’m just not used to doing that much. You couldn’t go out of your door unless you were all dressed up, and that’s just not for me.
“I really enjoyed entertaining others for the competition, though, and it helped me develop a talent I didn’t think I had. I’d always taken ballet, but I realized I needed another talent to win the state competition. I told my mom, ‘I’ve got to sing!’ She smiled and said, ‘You can’t sing.’ And I said, ‘Well, I’m just going to have to learn.’ So I took lessons and practiced, and I won the contest. I realize now that I can sing and not be embarrassed. I met some nice people in the pageant, too.”
She also realized that she was an example to a lot of her friends. “Lots of times at high school I wouldn’t go to parties because I knew there would be drinking. Everybody would go, and I would sit home. It wasn’t always easy, but it was the right thing.
“Then some of my friends would tell me things like ‘I really don’t enjoy drinking, and I don’t know why I do. I wish I had the courage to say no.’ They’d see me and realize that they didn’t have to drink. It’s important to do what you know is right.”
In the Gurley’s front room, Cathy’s trophies are displayed. She’s won awards for most valuable cheerleader, most valuable model at her modeling school, FHA Sweetheart, and first-place in beauty, talent, modeling, and most photogenic for North Carolina Teen Hemisphere.
But she doesn’t need a trophy for the things that are most important to her. She carries those qualities around with her every day.
The Savior said, “A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another” (John 13:34).
That’s another goal that Cathy’s working toward.

I was having a difficult time in school one year. I was shy and didn’t make friends easily. One evening, I decided to go for a walk to find some relief.
I found a secluded corner and spent some time pondering and praying about what I wanted. Feeling as if no one understood me, I desperately longed to have someone in my life who could see me for what I was inside, for what I could be. I wanted someone who knew all my faults yet still loved me. I wanted someone who realized that I was (and still am) trying so hard to be better. I didn’t want to feel so alone all the time.
I don’t know how long I was there, but I poured my heart and soul out to Heavenly Father. I cried until I didn’t think I could cry anymore. Then I stood up and started walking back home. As I was walking, I looked down at my shadow. Instead of the usual one shadow, I had two. It wasn’t a miracle or anything; it was just the effect of multiple streetlamps. But when I saw those two shadows, the thought came into my head: “You are never alone. You’ll never walk alone.” I know now that this thought came from the Holy Ghost and that this experience was a blessing to comfort me. That one simple thought reminded me that things would work out and that Heavenly Father knows me perfectly.

Why would a person without compelling challenges, needs, or questions be interested in meeting the missionaries and listening to their lessons? Well, in my case it was love—love for a girl, a girl named Renee. I fell in love with her, and I wanted to marry her. She was different and had standards different from most young women I knew. But I fell for her and asked her to marry me—and she said no!

I was confused. I thought I was quite a catch! I was handsome, 24 years old, and a college graduate with a great job. She spoke of her goals—of marrying only someone who could take her to the temple, of having an eternal family—and she declined my offer. I wanted to continue the relationship, so I agreed to listen to the missionaries. Is this a good reason to meet with the missionaries? Well, it was for me.

Wherever we may be, our Heavenly Father can hear and answer the prayer offered in faith. This is especially true in the mission fields throughout the world. While presiding over the Canadian Mission, under the direction of President David O. McKay (1873–1970), Sister Monson and I had the opportunity of serving with some of the finest young men and women in all this world. The very lives of these young missionaries exemplified faith and prayer.

There sat in my office one day a newly arrived missionary. He was bright, strong, happy, and grateful to be a missionary. He was filled with enthusiasm and a desire to serve. As I spoke with him, I said, “Elder, I imagine that your father and mother wholeheartedly support you in your mission call.” He lowered his head and replied, “Well, not quite. You see, President, my father is not a member of the Church. He doesn’t believe as we believe, so he cannot fully appreciate the importance of my assignment.”

Without hesitating and prompted by a Source not my own, I said to him, “Elder, if you will honestly and diligently serve God in proclaiming His message, your father will join the Church before your mission is concluded.” He clasped my hand in a vise-like grip, the tears welled up in his eyes and began to roll forth down his cheeks, and he declared, “To see my father accept the truth would be the greatest blessing that could come into my life.”

This young man did not sit idly by hoping and wishing that the promise would be fulfilled, but rather he followed the sage advice that has been given of old: “Pray as though everything depended upon God. Work as though everything depended upon you.” Such was the missionary service of this young man.

At every missionary conference I would seek him out before the meetings and ask, “Elder, how’s Dad progressing?”

His reply would invariably be, “No progress, President, but I know the Lord will fulfill the promise given to me through you as my mission president.” The days turned to weeks and the weeks to months, and finally, just two weeks before we ourselves left the mission field to return home, I received a letter from the father of this missionary. That father wrote:

“Dear Brother Monson:

“I wish to thank you so much for taking such good care of my son who recently completed a mission in Canada. He has been an inspiration to us.

“My son was promised when he left on his mission that I would become a member of the Church before his return. This promise was, I believe, made to him by you, unknown to me.

“I am happy to report that I was baptized into the Church one week before he completed his mission and am at present time athletic director of the MIA and have a teaching assignment.

“My son is now attending BYU, and his younger brother was also recently baptized and confirmed a member of the Church.

“May I again thank you for all the kindness and love bestowed upon my son by his brothers in the mission field during the past two years.

“Yours very truly, a grateful father.”

The humble prayer of faith had once again been answered.