Gospel Story Finder

Mr. Cooper says that he’s going to be baptized but won’t say when. I hope that it’s before my mission is over two weeks from now. But even though I’d like to be with him then, the important thing is that he get baptized when he’s ready.
Great news! Frank Cooper was baptized yesterday! And last night he gave a party to celebrate and invited a lot of his friends and the members of the ward. He said that it was also a farewell party for me. At the party, we made an appointment to visit one of his nonmember friends. I wish that I could go to that appointment with Elder Butler, but I’ll be home by then.

Let me share with you the beautiful message which appears on the Christmas card of Dick and Mary Headlee. It is entitled “A Modern Miracle.”

The Headlees wrote: “Our family and friends, working with Project Concern International, aided by the LDS Church’s Humanitarian Aid Relief, had been gathering food, clothing, medical supplies, blankets and toys for months. Finally the project deadline arrived, and the container had to be shipped from Salt Lake City that day. The last hour we sealed the 40-foot container for shipment to the Romanian orphanage was hectic. The 40,000 pounds of needed supplies were finally packed. A friend, Barbara Brinton, arrived from Provo literally at the last minute. She had several items, among them a child’s orthopedic walker. Her neighbor had heard of Barbara’s interests in our orphanage project and was inspired that they might need her child’s walker in Romania. Our daughter Kathy thanked her for the supplies and looked quizzically at the orthopedic walker. It wasn’t on the list of needs, but she thought, ‘Oh, well; it doesn’t weigh much. We’ll throw it on.’

“When our family arrived in Romania, they met a doctor who was working with a multiple-handicapped four-year-old orphan named Raymond. Raymond had been born with severe club feet and was blind. Recent orthopedic surgery had corrected the club feet, and Dr. Lynn Oborn was attempting to teach Raymond, who had never walked, how to use his legs. Dr. Oborn’s first words to us were, ‘Oh, you’re the people who have the container. I hope you brought me a child’s walker for Raymond.’ Kathy responded, ‘I can vaguely remember something like a walker, but I don’t know what size it is.’ She dispatched our son Bruce back into the container, and he crawled amongst all the bales of clothes and boxes of food searching for the walker. When he found it, he lifted it up and cried out, ‘It’s a little one!’ Cheers erupted—which quickly turned to tears, for they all knew they had been part of a modern-day miracle.

“There may be some who say, ‘We don’t have miracles today.’ But the doctor whose prayers were answered would respond, ‘Oh, yes, we do, and Raymond is walking!’ The neighbor who was inspired to give the walker was a willing vessel, and surely would also agree.

“Our family members, whose lives have been enriched by this entire experience, bear witness that God hears and answers prayers, and for this we give thanks.”

My grandfather had been living in Farmington, Utah, for a few years before he and his family were asked to go out into south-central Idaho and help settle a new community to be named Oakley. My father, Hector, was a teenager when they moved. My mother, Clara, was a teenager living in Tooele, Utah, when her father was asked to move to Oakley and build the first flour mill there. And so Hector and Clara fell in love out in that little Idaho town.
When it was time to be married in 1890, they didn’t ask where they would be married and what they would do. They knew what to do. I remind those of you who may not have your geography straight that in that part of Idaho it is about 180 miles to the Logan Temple. But my parents went to the Logan Temple from that little town to be married on May 15, 1890. I’ve often wondered how they made the trip. Imagine one of the old double-seat surrey buggies without any sides on it, pulled by a team of horses. In spite of spring rains, they set out to go 180 miles in the buggy.
I don’t know how many were in the company, but if you would imagine a modern automobile with its steel top, glass sides, heaters, radio, comfortable seats by the side of that buggy, you would see a great difference. Imagine those young people with some of their party organizing to travel 180 miles. It would take a week. They set out to make the seven-day trip to the temple in that buggy. They were without sleeping bags or winter clothing as we know it today, but they had clothing that was appropriate for that time—blankets and quilts—and some flour sacks filled with food.
So when we sing about the strength of the hills, we should thank the Lord for the strength of where we are and who we are and what we believe in and how we live. Are the young people today wondering if it would be inconvenient for them to go a few miles to the Manti Temple or the St. George Temple or the Atlanta Georgia Temple or even to the Stockholm Sweden Temple or the Johannesburg South Africa Temple or wherever it might be? Picture in your minds what went on only a few years ago, and your travel to a temple will not seem so inconvenient.

Several years after I was married, I was called to teach a Sunday School class of fifteen-year-olds. It was a large class of enthusiastic and energetic students. I had to prepare well each week in order to stay ahead of them.
One Sunday after class a young man waited for the room to clear and then asked if we could talk privately for a moment. He poured out his heart to me about a moral transgression that he was involved in. He cried, and I could see that his heart was filled with great remorse.
I encouraged him to go see the bishop, who was his uncle, and eventually I went with him to his appointment and waited outside. Of course, I was not part of what the young man did from that time on, but almost immediately I saw the dark clouds of gloom and grief lift from this young man’s face. In time he was back to being the normal and fine young man that I had known him to be for some years previous. Repentance cleansed his soul and it cleansed his heart, mind, and even his face. His eyes were brighter, his smile broader, and his walk and the way he carried himself suggested happiness.

The doctors said she wouldn’t live, but Iris JoAnn Alvarado is thriving. Her faith, and the faith of her family, has preserved her life many times. When her mother was about to give birth to JoAnnie, the stake patriarch came to their home. He felt impressed to give Sister Alvarado a blessing. She didn’t understand then why she needed a blessing, but she did after JoAnnie was born. Her little girl weighed only a little more than four pounds, and the doctors discovered that throughout the pregnancy she had not gotten much oxygen and that the last three months she had probably not received enough nourishment. The Alvarados were told that she would die and that if she didn’t, she would have severe brain damage from the lack of oxygen.
But JoAnnie’s family prayed for her, and their prayers were answered, because she lived. At four months she was standing; at eight months she could walk. When she started talking, it was in short sentences and the words were very clear—there was obviously nothing wrong with her brain. Today, at nine years of age, she continues to excel, getting straight As in all her school classes.

When the missionaries showed me the filmstrip of the Prophet Joseph Smith’s First Vision, it was difficult for me to contain my tears. The story of his search for truth was in some ways similar to my own.
At that time, I was 20 years old and living in Italy, the land of my birth. For five years I had been looking for answers my parents’ religion had not been able to give me. I had sought these answers in other religions and philosophies, but something seemed lacking in all of them. During the year before I met the missionaries, that search had become the most important thing in my life. I distanced myself from some of my friends and even left the university where I had been studying. My relatives could not understand me.
At the end of 1984, I met the missionaries on the street and gave them my address. I knew very little about the Church, but for some reason I wanted to speak to them.
Some days later I was in my room. I opened my heart to God, asking Him to show me what He wanted me to do. As I prayed I felt a great peace surround me. At that exact moment, the doorbell rang. When the missionaries came in, I knew they had the answers I sought.

When President Thomas S. Monson, then a counselor in the First Presidency, called Neil Andersen to serve as mission president, accepting that call required financial sacrifice. Neil owned a prosperous and growing advertising agency. “It’s not a business that is easily left to others,” Elder Andersen explains. “We accepted the call not knowing how we would make the transition work.”
Sister Andersen adds, “I have always had confidence in his faith. He has consistently reassured us: ‘If we put the Lord first, He will open the way, and miracles will follow.’”
Within weeks an offer to buy the business came forward unsolicited. “It was clearly the Lord’s hand at work in a miraculous way,” Elder Andersen says.

Not long after I had completed the Book of Mormon for the second time, my husband left our family. The seemingly impossible tasks of my new job became extremely stressful, and my son’s chronic health condition left me feeling like I was drowning.
But then I remembered reading in the Book of Mormon about how Amulon had placed great burdens upon Alma and his people. When the people prayed for help, the Lord told them He was mindful of their situation and would deliver them. Until then, He said, “I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs” (Mosiah 24:14).
I had studied that chapter in Mosiah many times before, and I had taught it many times to others in gospel classes. I believed the truth of those verses. Because I had become familiar with the teachings in the Book of Mormon, I knew that personal truth appears when I liken the scriptures to my personal circumstances.
So I began reading that chapter every day for strength and to remind myself that the Lord cared about me too. I still had to experience trials, but He did lighten my burdens.
Those verses in the Book of Mormon carried me through a time of great personal adversity, providing me with peace and a comforting knowledge that the Lord is mindful of all His children.

They say things are big in Texas—big state, big ranches, big stories, big ideas.
And after meeting the LDS youth in Austin, the state’s capital, you’d probably add a few more things to the “big” list. Things like big testimonies and big hearts.
As a matter of fact, their love for Christ is so big that they wanted to share it with all their friends, LDS or not. They wanted to host an activity that would bring LDS kids and non-LDS kids closer to the Savior and closer to each other. They also decided that such an activity would be the perfect way to cap off the year’s seminary study of the New Testament.
Both youth and adult leaders were called to help organize the event. They decided that since football is such a big sport in Texas, former BYU and Houston Oiler quarterback Gifford Nielson would help attract a crowd. They invited Tim Ross, a Church member well known in the area for his wacky TV weather reports, to speak, figuring he would draw people out too. The conference would include slide presentations, testimonies, prayers, workshops, and of course, there would be some serious, heartfelt talks about the Savior—how much he means to the youth of Texas and to people everywhere. There would be lighter activities, as well, like a dance and a Texas barbecue.
Equipped with an irresistible agenda, they went out to contact various youth groups in the vicinity and invite them over for the big day.
That’s when a big problem came up.
“I contacted several youth groups, and they were really excited at first,” said Anna Francis, 17, a member of the youth planning committee. “But when it got to their ministers, they decided they didn’t want them to come to a Mormon activity. Some of them seem to think that Mormons aren’t Christians, so they said we had no right holding a conference on Christ. It’s sad, because we were trying to help them see that we really are Christians.”
At that point, Plan B went into effect. Since all the youth groups invited declined the invitation, the LDS kids were encouraged to invite their nonmember friends from school. “All the Mormon youth fasted and prayed that everything would work out, and that more people would want to come,” said Tomasyn Harlow, another member of the planning committee. “We invited our friends and talked to people all over the stake. It worked. We ended up with over 225 people.”
Actually, that was quite an impressive turnout. “On a beautiful Saturday like this, they could have been in a million other places,” said Bob Ferguson, a member of the stake high council who was assigned to coordinate the conference. “They could be out waterskiing, fishing, hitting all the new movies. They could have been out working and earning some money. But they wanted to come here to get closer to Christ.”
And the event turned out to be a big success after all.
“I think this is the best we’ve ever done,” said Johnny Apel, 16. And that’s a pretty big compliment. After all, this is a stake that sponsors memorable activities at the end of each seminary year that correspond with the book of scriptures they’ve been studying. They’ve put on things like a “Nephite Festival” that was their version of a county fair in the land of Bountiful, complete with a realistically simulated earthquake and storm, followed by a beautiful talk on Third Nephi.
Then there was the big “Wander in the Wilderness,” where the seminary students were taken to a desolate area, divided by their birth months into twelve “tribes,” and required to complete 12 Old Testament-oriented tasks like rescuing Daniel from the lion’s den, building a tower of Babel, and building an ark. At the end, they were treated to a big feast, similar to that of the Passover.
With activities like that, rating the “Come unto Christ” youth conference number one really says something.
What made the event such a big success? The location wasn’t out of the ordinary—much of the program was held in the chapel, and the workshops were held in church classrooms. Meals were brought in and either eaten outside in the Texas sunshine or inside, picnic-style, on blankets on the gym floor.
So it was the theme itself and the attitudes of the kids involved that made this such a big event. “What could be more important than to come unto Christ?” said Tisha Perry, age 16. “I hoped that this activity would help me to get closer to him, and it did.”
You could actually see some changes taking place right before your eyes as the day wore on. “I really don’t know where it started, but lately I’ve had a real problem with listening to what my parents say and following the counsel they give me,” Greg Harkrider, 16, told the entire group. “I just want them to know that I’m glad that I listened to what they said and came today to learn more about Christ. That’s what I need to be here for. I’ll try to be better because of this.”
And responses from the 30 or so non-LDS kids who did come were positive as well. Rick Moore and Eric Bradshaw, two 16-year-olds who met on the set of a movie they were both involved in, came to the conference because the subject was of great interest to them both. Rick is LDS. Eric is Presbyterian. “Pretty much everything that’s been said here today I’m 100 percent with,” said Eric. “This is really encouraging for me.”
Darla Marburger, 16, who came with her LDS friend Milli Egger, 14, had a response similar to Eric’s. “This has really helped me to grow spiritually,” she said.
“I’m just glad someone has taken the time to teach us more about Christ,” added Milli. “It’s important to learn now, when we’re young and impressionable, so we have a better chance of turning out right.”
Richard Cromwell, a very popular high school teacher and an ordained Methodist minister, also paid big compliments to the event. “This is great!” he said. “I’m all for anything that helps bring the kids closer to Christ.”
The spirit of the day was not diminished when the lights in the gym went down low and the music was turned up for the dance that finished off the conference. A stake music committee, made up mostly of youth, had previously selected all the music that would be played, making sure it was fun to dance to, yet didn’t contain inappropriate lyrics.
While the music played inside, the youth on the organizing committee wandered outside for a breather. They inevitably began discussing the big subject of the day. “Being a part of all this really makes me want to work harder to be better—to be more like Jesus,” said Mark Davies, 17. “That would be so great.”
“We heard a lot about Christ today, and his spirit was here,” added Anna. “That’s exactly what we wanted.”
“Oh yes,” Thomasyn agreed. “Even though it didn’t turn out exactly like we’d planned at first, it was a big success.”
There it was. Still another big to add to the Texas list.

“Matt, let’s go to the Colorado River,” Dad suggested. I was seven years old, and my family was visiting both sets of grandparents in St. George, Utah. Eager to see the mighty Colorado, I yelled, “Great! Let me get my skipping stones.”
Little did I know that he meant we were going to the Grand Canyon traveling over cow trails. Yes, we would see the Colorado River, but we would be on a cliff about a mile (1.5 km) above it. There would be no skipping of stones.
Grandpa Holland loaned us his truck and gave us a homemade map and a set of directions to help us find our way on a little-used dusty path along the back roads of the Utah-Arizona border. As we turned off the paved road, lumbered through the desert, climbed a set of hills, crossed another desert, went up another set of hills, I wondered how Grandpa or anyone else ever found this place.
We reached the overlook of the Grand Canyon late in the afternoon. After looking at the spectacular view and launching a few stones as far as I could throw, we got back into Grandpa’s old truck and started the trek home.
It was dusk, and we had only gone a bumpy mile or two when we came to a fork in the road. We stopped. Dad was not certain which trail we had come in on. He knew he had to make the right decision. There wasn’t much light left, light he desperately needed to ensure he could make the correct turns the rest of the way home.
Wasting time on a wrong road now meant we would face the difficult task of making our way home in the dark.
As we did whenever we had a family problem or concern, we prayed. After we both said amen, Dad turned and asked me what I thought we should do. I answered and said, “All during the prayer, I just kept feeling, ‘Go to the left.’”
Dad responded, “I had the exact same impression.”
This was my first experience receiving and recognizing revelation.
We started down the dirt road to the left. We had traveled only about 10 minutes when our road came to a sudden dead-end. My father promptly whipped the truck around, roared back to that fork in the path, and started down the road to the right. Fortunately, there was still just enough light to help us navigate the web of dirt roads that would take us home.
We were almost back to St. George, now on roads my father knew well, and the thick darkness of the night was lit by pinholes of thousands of stars.
I was troubled. With my head resting on my dad’s leg and my legs stretched across the seat, I asked, “Dad, why did we both feel like Heavenly Father told us to go down the road to the left when it was the wrong road?”
My dad said, “Matty, I’ve been thinking and silently praying about that same thing all the way home, because I really did feel a very distinct impression to take the road to the left.”
I was relieved that my first experience with revelation had a “second witness.”
He continued, “The Lord has taught us an important lesson today. Because we were prompted to take the road to the left, we quickly discovered which one was the right one. When we turned around and got on the right road, I was able to travel along its many unfamiliar twists and turnoffs perfectly confident I was headed in the right direction.
“If we had started on the right road, we might have driven for 30 minutes or so, become uneasy with the unfamiliar surroundings, and been tempted to turn back. If we had done that, we would have discovered the dead-end so late that it would have been too dark to find our way back in totally unfamiliar territory.”
I understood and have never forgotten the lesson my Heavenly Father and earthly father taught me that afternoon. Sometimes in response to prayers, the Lord may guide us down what seems to be the wrong road—or at least a road we don’t understand—so, in due time, He can get us firmly and without question on the right road. Of course, He would never lead us down a path of sin, but He might lead us down a road of valuable experience. Sometimes in our journey through life we can get from point A to point C only by taking a short side road to point B. We had prayed that we could make it safely home that day, and we did.

I was invited to a birthday party, and they popped a balloon full of candy for us to pick up. Some of the children didn’t get any. One child who didn’t was crying. He wanted some of the candy from the balloon. I gave him two pieces of the candy I had picked up. Then he started to look around, hoping to still find some candy on the floor. Without him seeing, I threw a piece for him to find. He grabbed it and said, “Finally I got one.” I felt warm inside because he was happy again.

On one occasion I interviewed for baptism a very unusual 23 year old Russian investigator. She told me that in the weeks between meeting the missionaries and the day of her baptism, she had read the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, the Pearl of Great Price, and A Marvelous Work and a Wonder not once, but twice. I asked her: "What prompted you to become such of voracious reader of the scriptures?" She told me that once she picked up the Book of Mormon, she could not bear to put it down. She went without food and sleep to complete her reading. She confessed to me that each evening, she hurried home from work, picked up the Book of Mormon and read it until 4:00 a.m.

Long before the sun rises over Buenos Aires, Argentina, the moist morning air carries quiet sounds of students arriving at a chapel located in a busy area of the city. A key turns, and the door is opened. A group of students enter, and then the door is locked—a standard security measure in the dark hours before dawn. A soft knock, and someone runs to let in more students, whose smiles and cheer belie the early-morning hour. In all, 13 students arrive to begin their day by studying the New Testament. After class, they enjoy a simple breakfast prepared by one of the parents. Fortified in body and spirit, the students leave for school or work.

In the midst of the last-minute hubbub of parting friends, a woman walking down the street sees the meetinghouse gate open and hesitantly enters. “Are you Mormons?” she asks. “My son wants to be like his cousins in Mendoza who are Mormons. Can someone tell me about your church?” Coincidentally, missionaries arrive at the chapel, and arrangements are soon in place to introduce the woman to the gospel of Jesus Christ. This scene, illuminated by the early-morning rays of the rising sun, captures two sources of hope for the future of the Church in Argentina: the strength of the rising generation and a growing missionary harvest.

As a leader he has tried to encourage that desire in others. He remembers a time in 1987 when he was the bishop in Fayetteville, Arkansas. “I went into Primary one Sunday,” he says. “They had invited me. I decided to wear red suspenders. I thought that I would somehow use them as an object lesson. So I got in the Primary room, took off my coat, and said, ‘Now, boys and girls, the bishop has these red suspenders. How are the scriptures like my red suspenders?’ And one little boy raised his hand and said, ‘The scriptures hold up our faith in Jesus the same way your suspenders hold up your pants.’ I said, ‘That is exactly right.’ The little boys in the ward started wearing red suspenders, and the little girls had red bows in their hair.

“My dad was a tool-and-die maker, and he would never be caught without his tools. It seemed to me that for members of the Church of Jesus Christ our tools are the scriptures and we would always have them in our meetings. When I became the stake president, we began to hold them up to remind us how they can, if we use them, hold up our faith.”

When the current edition of the LDS hymnbook was printed, the author of “There Is Beauty All Around” was unknown—neither composer nor author is listed. President David O. McKay, a great admirer of this hymn, asked J. Spencer Cornwall, who was then a member of the Church Music Committee, to find the name of its author.
Soon afterwards while Brother Cornwall was traveling on assignment to Montana, he heard on the car radio a male chorus singing “There Is Beauty All Around.” Reaching his destination he called the station to ask the name of the author and was referred to a station in New Jersey where the program had originated. He wrote that station and was promptly sent a pamphlet stating that John Hugh McNaughton was both the author and composer of “There Is Beauty All Around.”
This information was conveyed to President McKay who remarked that he was sorry it had not been written by a member of the Church but that he was very pleased to know, however, that those lovely words had been written by a Scotsman. (Personal reminiscence of J. Spencer Cornwall.)
SONG: “There Is Beauty All Around.” (Hymns, p. 169; male chorus and tenor solo.)

Several years ago as I was preparing for further graduate studies, I chose to audit a math class. Given that I was still taking other classes and finishing my thesis, I thought this would be a great opportunity to learn, without the pressures of worrying about a grade. I did great for the first few weeks, but as time became scarcer, I focused on those things for which I would be graded on, and gave less attention and attendance to the math class. Without the risk of a grade and a commitment to do the homework, I soon fell behind and quickly found that I was so far behind it did not justify attending the class.
As with education, life is not a spectator sport to be watched as we sit on the sidelines. It requires that we are active participants and exposed to the great joys and disappointments that come throughout life. In every activity of life, we will at times fall short and make mistakes, but enduring the trial makes the joy of success that much sweeter.

Beginning in my home under the loving care of my faithful parents and through my mission and marriage and family life, Jesus Christ and His gospel have been the rock upon which I have built my testimony. As I look back now, I find that my knowledge and testimony of the doctrines and principles of the restored gospel came sequentially in four ways.

First, during my childhood and youth my testimony was one of faith—faith in the words, the testimony, and the examples of parents, teachers, and leaders.

Second, my testimony was strengthened intellectually during missionary service. I immersed myself in the scriptures, especially in the Book of Mormon. I read and studied all four standard works and found a symphony of divine doctrine—so reasonable, so logical, and so satisfying.

Third, my testimony developed through experiences such as receiving answers to prayers, giving and receiving priesthood blessings, paying tithes and offerings, recognizing the blessings of fasting, and many others.

Fourth, I received absolute assurances of the Holy Ghost—revelations that came directly to my mind and my heart.

The testimony that took root in me those many years ago—like the seed that is watered, nurtured, and cared for—has grown into a tree and continues to grow today.

Sister Jensen and I dated in high school and graduated together in 1960. In January 1961 we decided that we would marry and that I would not serve a mission. We attended sacrament meetings together, either at her ward in Springville or at mine in Mapleton. In mid-January we attended my ward and listened to a returned missionary report on his mission to Mexico. Following that meeting I turned to Lonie and said, “We have made a mistake. I want to serve a mission.”

At that time prospective missionaries were interviewed by a General Authority. The Presiding Bishop of the Church, Joseph L. Wirthlin, interviewed me. I remember only two questions he asked me: The first was “Can you walk 25 miles a day?”

I said “yes.” I was playing a lot of basketball and was in excellent physical condition.

The second question was “Can you stand on a street corner anywhere in the world, gather a crowd around you, and testify to them that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God?”

I said “yes” to Bishop Wirthlin because of the second book I brought with me today, the Pearl of Great Price. This book was always visible in our home. Of course it is shorter than the triple combination, so, as a boy, I read it. I read it several times, especially the accounts of the First Vision and the coming forth of the Book of Mormon. I knew that what I read was true. I began to feel the power of the word in my heart. There were other influences on my testimony, such as the hymns of the Restoration, experiences in seminary, Church meetings, and service, but at its bedrock, my testimony was founded on the word of God as recorded in scripture.

Sister Jensen said she would wait for me, and, as you can see, she did—although during the mission I did detect some apostasy on her part when I learned that she was dating another man. A few well-worded letters from me about not getting serious with him had their desired effect. I am thankful she listened. We married in the Manti Temple 33 days after I returned home.

Although I left for my mission partially relying on the borrowed light of the faith and testimony of excellent parents, wonderful neighbors, and good teachers and leaders, I soon lost myself in the service of others. I worked hard and I was obedient. As a result, I experienced what President Gordon B. Hinckley experienced on his mission. “Something happened inside of me in England that was so significant and deep-rooted that I have never gotten over it,” he said. “It is the same thing I have seen happen to thousands of other young men and women who commit themselves to the Lord, and their faith in Him becomes their anchor. Everything good that has happened to me is a result of what happened while I lived in that land” (in Sheri L. Dew, Go Forward with Faith: The Biography of Gordon B. Hinckley [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1996], 547).

Two or three weeks ago this great teacher gave me motivation to try even harder to follow his example. Each Thursday morning after the Twelve have met for two hours, we are joined by the First Presidency to take care of our joint business. When President Kimball comes into the room on the fourth floor of the temple, one by one we go by and shake his hand.
President Kimball, now worn from long years of service, has a difficult time seeing, hearing, and speaking, so when it was my turn, I said, “President Kimball, I am Marvin Ashton.” He took my hand, paused, and then finally said softly, “Marv Ashton, I love you.” That is all he said to me. What else do I need? I can now go into the world and accomplish all of my assignments more effectively when I realize President Kimball trusts me and loves me.
When I am asked, “What does President Kimball say when he is with you and the others in the temple?” I say, “That is not too important. The thing that is important is that he is there. Despite pain, discomfort, and a tired, worn body, he is there. From him we learn what enduring and persistence are all about.

I’ve always had anxiety. When I was 17, I noticed that most of my anxiety attacks occurred at church.
I was always told that if I’d read the scriptures, say my prayers, and go to church, I’d be happy. Well, that wasn’t the case for me. I’d enjoy the first few minutes of church, and then a panic attack would begin.
My bishop helped me realize that the spiritual expectations I had set for myself may be the cause. I thought I had to have the same miraculous spiritual experiences I heard about. It made sense to me that this pressure could cause my repeated attacks.
One day someone asked me, “Why do you still go to church?” I was taken aback. Why was I still going to church? I wasn’t forced to go. I didn’t receive any miraculous blessings. But I realized that I kept going because I knew the Church was true and that Heavenly Father wanted me to be there. My love for Him overpowered my desire to be free from anxiety.
Sometimes I wanted immediate blessings from Heavenly Father. I thought He’d bless me with fewer panic attacks just because I went to church. But I’ve learned that it doesn’t work that way. I often have to push through the attacks and attend church before I can see His blessings.
Now I’ve realized I can also ask for help from my parents and medical professionals. I still have bad days, but they don’t control me. Instead, they help me prove to my Heavenly Father that I love Him and that I’ll fight through this challenge with His help.
In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus Christ asked if His trial could be lifted, but in perfect obedience to our Heavenly Father, He pushed through the greatest trial of all. Because of this, I know He will give me the strength to endure my trials as well.
Heidi L., Hawaii, USA

I was waking up from a spectacular sleep when I realized something.
I sat up in my bed and yelled, “Oh, my goodness! Today is my baptism!” I was excited and nervous at the same time. I had to get ready!
First, my sister curled my hair. I loved it. Then I put my beautiful dress on. It had light pink flowers on it. I was getting more excited as every second passed. My family took pictures outside in front of our tree.
After that, it was time. All of my family gathered at the front of our church. I wore a white jumpsuit. It was actually pretty comfy.
I was with my dad, and the water I was baptized in was really warm. I got two sparkling necklaces and a CTR bracelet from my friend and my grandma. CTR stands for “Choose the Right.”
I tried not to cry the whole time! My mom almost cried too. I hugged my handsome dad as hard as a snake squeezing its prey. S-s-sss!
“I love you,” I said to my mom and dad. I knew my fabulous family loved me a lot.
Then I realized something else. I had been smiling all day because the whole time I really, really felt loved!