Gospel Story Finder

During my sophomore year in high school, I volunteered as part of the technical crew to produce my high school’s annual musical. The experience became one of my favorite memories of the year, because it was fun and I learned so much doing it. I also loved working with the people I met.
But the most important thing I learned was not something I had expected.
In order for the tech crew to communicate quietly with each other, we used radio headsets. We also used them to tell jokes, have conversations, even to sing to each other to entertain ourselves during the long rehearsals.
But the first time we used the headsets wasn’t actually so comfortable for me. At first I was having a blast. Then some people started gossiping about the actors rehearsing onstage. I tried to ignore the snide comments and rude remarks, but as the conversation developed, the gossip grew crueler and more offensive.
I felt sick hearing some of the comments, but I was afraid to stand up against my new friends. I wish I had, because as I tolerated their jokes, I was eventually tempted to laugh and make my own comments. I began to rationalize why it would have been fine. Nobody but the tech crew would have heard me, and I wanted to fit in with the people around me.
As hard as it was, I knew that backbiting about those onstage wasn’t right, and I chose not to gossip.
After the rehearsal we learned that everything we had said over the headsets had been broadcast backstage. All 60 or so of the cast members had heard us talking. Some were angry, upset, or embarrassed. No one was impressed.
Later, while I was talking with one of my friends about what had happened, she said, “Everyone knows you’d never say anything like that.” Her comment shocked me, and I realized the significance of the choice I had made. If I had chosen to join in with the gossip, what would that have said about me? What would that have said about the Church?
I’m grateful for the choice I made in that dark, little theater, even when I thought others wouldn’t know, because it has opened blessings of friendship, peace, and confidence that I would have lost had I chosen to gossip.

Ashley and Sara gazed at the display case. The light seemed to dance on the silver, heart-shaped locket. “It sparkles like a star,” Sara said as she admired the treasure.
“When I get my allowance on Saturday, I’ll finally have enough money to buy it,” Ashley said, not taking her eyes off the locket. She had been saving her allowance all summer to buy it.
The bell hanging on the door of the shop jangled as the two girls left to begin their walk home. As they walked, Ashley’s mind was still on the locket. “I can’t wait to wear it to church next Sunday!”
“It’s the most beautiful locket I’ve ever seen,” Sara added, wishing deep down that she had seen it first. Her mind wandered to that hot June afternoon when they had ridden their bikes downtown. They’d gone inside the shop to cool off. As the cool breeze of the air conditioner gently washed over them, they looked at hair ribbons and jewelry. Sara was looking at some gold earrings on a counter display when Ashley spotted the locket in the display case below.
“Look at that!” she said in an almost-whisper, as if she did not want anyone else to hear her. “It’s beautiful! I just have to buy it! I’ll have to save up, of course, but I just have to have that locket.”
Why didn’t I see it first? Sara thought angrily. I love that locket! Now I can’t buy it because Ashley wants it. I even have enough money to buy it now! She hoped that Ashley would forget about the locket and she could buy it herself, but Ashley hadn’t.
The blaring horn of a passing car jerked Sara’s thoughts back into the present. Now I’ll never have the locket, she told herself.
Saturday morning, Ashley anxiously waited for her allowance. “Thanks, Mom. Is it all right if I go downtown to buy my necklace now?”
“Why don’t you wait a few minutes and let me drive you? I need to run a few errands anyway.”
“That would be great! I can hardly wait!”
They arrived at the shop and hurried inside. Ashley ran to the display case and searched the shelf. “It’s not here!”
“Don’t panic,” Mom said calmly. “Let’s ask the clerk if she knows anything about it.”
A friendly lady greeted them, “How may I help you ladies?”
“Could you please tell us what happened to the silver heart-shaped locket that used to be in this display case?” Mom asked.
“I’m sorry—it was sold yesterday. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“No, thank you very much.” Mom gently guided Ashley toward the door.
Ashley didn’t say anything on the ride home. She just stared out the car window. My locket is gone! It isn’t fair!It just isn’t fair!
On Sunday, Ashley stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom. She wore her favorite dress—the bright green one—but it didn’t cheer her up. She gazed into the mirror and imagined how pretty the locket would have looked with it.
At church she looked for Sara. She wanted to tell her how sad she was about the locket. Finally she saw Sara in the corner talking excitedly with some girls in their class. As she joined them, Ashley saw the locket—her locket—around Sara’s neck. “How could you?” she cried. “You stole my locket!”
“It wasn’t your locket,” Sara snapped back. “And I didn’t steal it.”
“But you knew that I wanted it.”
“Well, I wanted it, too, and I had enough money to buy it, so I did!”
“I’ll never forgive you for this, Sara,” Ashley cried. All through Primary she glared at Sara, who just sat quietly and stared at the floor.
After church, Ashley stormed into the house, ran to her bedroom, and slammed the door. Soon Mom knocked on the door. “Ashley, Sara’s here to see you.”
“Tell her to go away! I never want to see her again!”
“She seems really upset. I think that you ought to talk with her.”
Ashley slowly walked to the front door, where Sara stood waiting on the porch. “What do you want?”
“I came to apologize. I’m sorry that I bought the locket that you wanted. It’s just so pretty! But I want you to have it. You don’t even have to buy it from me.” The necklace sparkled in the sunlight as Sara held it in her outstretched hand. “I’m really sorry. Can you forgive me?”
“No, I can’t. And I don’t want the locket now. It’s ruined—you’ve worn it!” Ashley slammed the door in Sara’s face, then stomped back to her bedroom. I’ll never forgive her for this, she told herself. Never!
Soon Mom appeared in the doorway. “What happened?”
Ashley told her how Sara had known that she had been saving up to buy the locket and had bought it, anyway. “She came here to apologize, but she’s too late!”
“So you won’t forgive her?”
Ashley shook her head.
“I think Sara is very sorry,” Mom said. “Don’t you think you should try?”
“I don’t care if she’s sorry. She knew it was wrong, but she did it anyway.”
“Ashley, how would you feel if Heavenly Father wouldn’t forgive you for the things that you’ve done wrong?”
Ashley was quiet for a minute. “I would feel terrible,” she answered softly.
“Would you want Him to tell you that you couldn’t be forgiven because you knew that what you did was wrong but did it anyway?”
“No.”
“The Savior said that in order for Heavenly Father to forgive us for our mistakes, we must forgive other people.” Mom patted her on the shoulder and left her.
Kneeling by her bed, Ashley began to pray. “Heavenly Father, please help me to forgive Sara. …”
At recess the next day, Ashley found Sara sitting on the swings alone. “Hi, Sara,” she said timidly. Sara just stared at the ground and drew circles in the dirt with her foot.
“Please let me talk to you,” Ashley pleaded.
“OK,” Sara said at last.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t accept your apology yesterday. I don’t care about the locket anymore. You’re more important to me than any locket ever could be. Can you forgive me for being so mean to you?”
Sara finally looked up. “Of course I can. Ashley, I really am sorry that I bought the locket.”
“Thank you for saying so—it means a lot to me for us to be best friends again.” Ashley climbed into the swing next to Sara’s. As she began to swing higher and higher, she thought about how free she felt without a heart full of anger and resentment. She looked up at the sky and silently thanked Heavenly Father.

The next morning, the Columbia Ward did go on the welfare assignment and spent the whole morning canning green beans. “We had done 1,050 cans when I lost count,” said Tre Pennington.

It was a lot of work. It left you feeling like you never wanted to see anything green again. But it did give everyone a chance to work together. And while they worked, they answered questions about life as a Latter-day Saint, about life in the Church.

“When the missionaries were teaching me, I knew right away that it was true. I didn’t have any doubt. My dad got baptized; then I got baptized the next Saturday,” said Stephanie Rawlins. “I enjoy being in the church I know is true. Friends I have who aren’t members can’t talk the same way. They don’t understand. With my friends in the Church I can open up; I can talk about things that are really important.”

“I’ve thought many times about what it means to have the priesthood,” said David Dawson, 16. “It means I’m more than just somebody on the street. I know where I can be in the eternities. Holding the priesthood is like being with God every day. It’s a great feeling if you live right.”

“Most of my nonmember friends go to their own churches,” Jason Sawyer said. “If you talk about religion to them, they look at you funny. But when I tell them our religion says we have the right to hold an office in the priesthood, they think that’s quite an honor.”

Jason also talked a little bit about what it’s like to be the stepson of a bishop who makes doughnuts for a living. “He gets up early to start baking, then sleeps in the middle of the day. A lot of times he’s gone doing church work. But he loves us, and he tries to be there when we need him. Besides, we always have plenty of refreshments!”

“That does it!” Melissa said, setting the last can of beans in a cardboard box. “I’m tired, but I’m not so tired that I couldn’t eat breakfast. Where’s a McDonald’s?”

Seth was confused when Mom and Dad announced that they were going to read the Book of Mormon as a family. He was only four, and his brother Caleb was two. They were too little to read. So how could they read as a family?
After Seth and Caleb climbed into bed that night in early autumn, Mom and Dad sat by the bedroom door with their scriptures open.
“This is just how my mom read the Book of Mormon to me when I was little,” Mom said. “There are no pictures for you to look at in this book. But you can imagine the pictures in your minds.”
Seth’s parents took turns reading. Sometimes they stopped to explain things. They read from the Book of Mormon every night. Some nights, Seth fell asleep before they finished reading. Caleb almost always did.
“That’s OK,” Dad said. “Just listen as long as you can, and enjoy the peaceful feeling.”
Seth did feel peaceful listening to the Book of Mormon, most nights. Other times, he didn’t feel like listening. Sometimes he interrupted with stories about preschool, or ideas he had for Halloween or Christmas or his birthday in February.
“Seth,” Dad said, “you can ask questions, but they have to be about the Book of Mormon.”
Seth wanted to talk. He didn’t want Mom and Dad to do all the talking. So he started to listen and tried to think of questions to ask. He started to imagine the pictures in his mind—Nephi building a boat, Lehi blessing his sons. Soon, he realized there really were things he wanted to know.
“Who is Satan?” he asked one night.
Mom and Dad closed their scriptures and explained how Satan was a son of Heavenly Father who would not obey. He was so angry at Heavenly Father he couldn’t live with Him anymore. Then he was so mad that he wanted everybody else to feel miserable like him.
“Satan wants us to make bad choices so that we’ll feel bad inside,” Dad explained. “Sometimes he will try to tempt you to do bad things. But you can tell him no. You can choose the right.” Seth felt strong, knowing that he could tell Satan no and follow Jesus instead.
A few months later, on a rainy winter night, Seth listened to the story of the Lamanites being taught by the great missionary, Ammon. The Lamanites buried their weapons and promised Heavenly Father that they wouldn’t fight anymore. Seth thought about how he sometimes argued with Caleb, who was already asleep in his bed. Suddenly, he had an idea.
“Dad,” he asked, “how can I make a promise to Heavenly Father?”
Dad stopped reading and looked up at Seth. “You can pray to Him and tell Him you want to do better,” he replied. “You can make a promise to Him anytime. And when you are eight, you’ll make a really big promise. That’s when you’ll be baptized, and promise to try to do what’s right for the rest of your life.”
“But I can still promise now?”
“Sure you can.”
One night, after Seth’s fifth birthday, Dad started reading the story of 2,000 young men, the stripling warriors, who decided to fight to defend their parents, the people of Ammon. As Mom began to read, her voice got quiet. When Seth looked over at her, she was crying.
“Why are you crying, Mom?” he asked.
“I started reading about these boys and how good they are, and how Heavenly Father took care of them. And I looked at you listening to the Book of Mormon, and I thought about how much you want to be good and make promises to Heavenly Father.”
“And you got sad?”
“No, I got happy! I think you are like the boys in this story. You are determined to do what is right! You will have hard battles in your life. Remember how Satan wants you to feel bad?” she asked. Seth did remember. “But you will fight against him, and Heavenly Father will take care of you, just like He took care of the boys in this story.”
They read about Jesus visiting the Nephites. Seth was very quiet as Dad read about Christ taking each little child in His arms and blessing him or her. Seth had a picture in his room of Jesus surrounded by little children. He could imagine himself right there, hugging Jesus and feeling His hands on his head blessing him, just like Dad blessed him when he was sick with the flu.
Seth was so quiet that Mom thought he was asleep. “Seth, are you awake?” she whispered.
“Yes. Keep reading,” Seth replied.
Near the end of the summer, Seth’s family had a special family home evening to read the last chapter of the Book of Mormon.
“I first read the Book of Mormon when I was getting ready to go on a mission,” Dad said. “The Holy Ghost told me it was true. But you boys are learning about the Book of Mormon while you are young. You can learn that it is true right now.”
Mom said that since they had been reading as a family, she felt happier in their home. “I’ve noticed Seth and Caleb are more obedient. And I don’t feel like yelling or scolding. I think the Book of Mormon has helped our family.”
Seth remembered the stories he had heard and the pictures he had imagined. He remembered the peace he felt as he went to sleep every night listening to Mom and Dad read. He remembered being able to imagine himself with Jesus. “I feel good about the Book of Mormon,” he said.

One year I set a New Year’s resolution to read and study the entire Book of Mormon. I wanted to gain a rock-solid testimony of the book and the gospel. However, sticking to a schedule was harder than I thought, and I soon became overwhelmed and discouraged. I lost sight of my original goal to gain a testimony, and I stopped reading altogether.
The next year I was setting goals again. With only two years of high school left, I wanted to focus on preparing for a mission. I knew that in order to be a successful missionary, I had to study and gain a testimony of the Book of Mormon, but I remembered my earlier attempt and was overwhelmed by that task. I thought, “I tried that last year, and it failed miserably.” Reading the Book of Mormon began to feel impossible, so I said a prayer.
A calm feeling washed over me, and I realized then that gaining a testimony isn’t a “yearly” thing—you can’t set a huge goal to “gain a testimony” and then just expect it to come by the end of the year. Conversion happens day by day and week by week, not year by year.
So I set a smaller, more manageable goal. Every Sunday, I would reflect on my week, setting short-term goals to help read the Book of Mormon and improve my testimony, and realigning myself with my end goal, which was serving a mission.
Most of my goals were really small, like reading earlier in the day to be more attentive or changing the way I marked my scriptures. But I saw an impact in my life. I am still not perfect at reading my scriptures—far from it—but I am blessed with the motivation to keep trying. I can see the blessings of the gospel in my life, and I have the assurance that I can become who Heavenly Father wants me to be.

We went together one night to the Washington D.C. Temple Visitors’ Center. That night Katie, Paige, and I took a long walk around the temple. There was such a feeling of peace and love. There, the three of us made a pact with one another to work towards temple marriages and to settle for nothing less. We see the eternal perspective on choosing the right day-by-day. We are striving to gain the highest reward: eternal life. The Lord provided a way for three girls to choose the right, and I have never felt so good inside.

Perhaps President Benson’s most challenging call came in 1946 at the close of World War II when he was appointed president of the European Mission. His specific assignment was to reopen missions and to ease the suffering among members of the Church in the war-torn countries of Europe. Overcoming incredible difficulties caused by lack of transportation and basic supplies, President Benson was able to facilitate relief efforts for many European Saints.

I read one experience of a woman in her mobile home. As she heard the winds approaching, she went into her bathroom and crouched down on the floor hoping to avoid injury. She felt her trailer shake, she was jostled around, and then everything was quiet. As she crouched motionless in her bathroom, she heard the voice of her neighbor who lived approximately 50 yards away from her. The voice said, “I am here in the front room.”
She thought somehow her neighbor had come into her trailer and was looking for her. She soon, however, was very surprised to find that was not the case at all, but that the winds had lifted, carried, and landed her trailer upright on the top of her neighbor’s trailer. She had not realized it, but her trailer had been flying through the air. Her neighbor was actually below her, in the neighbor’s own mobile home.

At first glance, Jo Lynn Potter comes across as a pert, sun-bronzed, 16-year-old LDS girl, full of the wonders and woes common to her age. She is. But she’s something more too, Jo Lynn’s a rodeo rider, and last August at the National High School Rodeo Jo Lynn was named the All-Around Cowgirl, a title she’s working to defend in this year’s competition.
The rodeo was a time of achievement in her life. Besides winning the “all-around” title with a total of 960 points (almost double the score of the runner-up), Jo Lynn saw her Arizona team capture the team trophy with 1,900 points. During the course of the Ogden, Utah, competition she also clocked 16.86 seconds in barrel racing (her favorite event) to win the event’s championship for the United States and Canada. The awards day was a big one for Jo Lynn and her family. It came as the climax to a lot of hard work and overcoming some hard luck several weeks before.
Jo Lynn’s parents are both professional athletes. Her mother is a barrel racer and her father is a calf and team roper. For Jo Lynn’s 15th birthday several weeks before the Ogden finals, they presented her with a horse, Auto Dial, that had won over $40,000 in his career.
On the way from their home in Tucson to the Ogden finals, the Potters made a side trip to several professional rodeos in Idaho. One night Auto Dial “got down in his pen” and somehow completely severed the ligaments and arteries in his leg. After nearly six hours of work, a veterinarian recommended that Jo Lynn’s horse be put to sleep. Her hope of winning in the finals was badly shaken.
But there was still a chance. The Potters had brought along a young, newly trained horse called Moon. He was a fairly inexperienced five-year-old, but Jo Lynn had faith in him, and for good cause. Together, Jo Lynn and Moon went on to the championship.
Jo Lynn has been involved in rodeo activities since about the age of ten. “I’m looking forward to college rodeo in a few years,” she says, “but beyond that, it’s too soon to tell about professional rodeo.”
Would it be hard for her as a woman to get anywhere in the professional rodeo world?
“Anyone can do well as long as they’ve got a good horse and know what they’re doing,” says Jo Lynn emphatically. “A good horse is very important.”
The Potters enjoy their role as Church members in the rodeo world. They often discuss the Church with the people they meet on the circuits and have been responsible for the conversion of at least one family.
The family attends Church meetings no matter where they may be in the country, and believe they have “probably attended more different wards than any other LDS family, except the General Authorities.”
For Jo Lynn the rodeo has been a chance for growth.

My father was our bishop, but he died before I received the priesthood. I remember so clearly being ordained a deacon. A new world opened up for me. I was now living on a higher plane. As I would hear people say, “You hold the priesthood,” it was not easy to fully comprehend. But with humble teachers, we began to understand that as deacons we had been given blessings and authority to do sacred things.
As quorum officers we accounted for all of our members and would see that they were all at church. We enjoyed being together. We chopped wood for the elderly and the widows, filled the coal bins at church, cleaned the meetinghouse every Saturday afternoon, swept the steps, raked the gravel yard, saw that the sacrament trays and lace sacrament cloths were clean and fresh, and had real pride in the appearance of our little meetinghouse.
We were part of the Church and the Church was part of us. We knew it; we felt it! We held the priesthood of God! Understanding teachers guided us and helped us broaden our vision and our ever-expanding role as young men; but more important, they helped prepare us to be called in our youth to be servants of our Savior. He needs every one of you young men who hold the priesthood. I testify that this work is true. I do it humbly, in the holy name of Jesus Christ, amen.

One Saturday in the family history centre, I was drawn to a drawer of microfiche, which store miniature images of vital documents. In it, I found a pile for Kent, England, which were filed under the wrong country. As I took them to their correct drawer, I noticed that they were from the same area as my extended family, so I sat down to read each fiche. Suddenly, I came across a family of parents and six children whom I was able to link as a sister to my uncle’s family. Until then, we did not know they existed. This was a clear example of how the Spirit always guides us in this sacred work.

Coach Ken Jenks has some good news and some bad news for the boys on his soccer team. As members of a recreation-league soccer team, they’ve had incredible success. The LDS boys, who have teamed up with nonmember friends, are some of the best soccer players in the area.
The coach starts with the good news. “Well, boys, we’ve got a great team, and the Southern California Soccer League championship is in the bag,” he says. Then his face clouds a bit, and he delivers the bad news. “But we’ll be playing three games, and one of them is on a Sunday. How do you feel about that?”
Five hands reluctantly but firmly go up. Eric Miller, 14, Jeff Jenks, 14, Justin Bonsey, 14, and twins Trent and Travis Weaver, 15, stand up and tell the group, “We can’t play on Sunday.” The boys, who are members of the Cypress First Ward, Cypress California Stake, aren’t happy about the idea of missing out on the biggest game of the season, but they are sure about their decision.
They’re following a precedent set five years earlier by a basketball team of mostly Primary-aged Mormon boys (some of whom now play on the soccer team) from the Cypress Stake. The team, the Cypress Bulldogs, chose to play basketball with the Orange County youth league because games were not held on Sunday.
The Bulldogs won every game and were set for the championship final game play-off. But unlike regular-season play, the championship game was scheduled on a Sunday. When the coach (who is also a member of the Church) found out about the Sunday game, he called the team together. He explained to them his belief that they shouldn’t play on Sunday, but he left the decision of whether or not they should play to the boys. He suggested that they take a vote to see if the team wanted to play on Sunday or not. The team voted unanimously to support their coach, meaning they would forfeit the game.
Richard Wynder, who is now 15, says, “Even though we had won every game during the whole season, nobody had second thoughts about not playing the championship game on Sunday. It was something we all felt we had to do.”
John Harris, one of the members of the basketball team who was not LDS, has since joined the Church because of the examples of his LDS teammates. Also, some of the other basketball teams from the area are now refusing to play on Sunday. This has also influenced several of the soccer teams and football teams who have taken the same stand.
One of the non-LDS coaches said, “I don’t want the league to schedule games on Sunday because some of my best players are Mormons.”
Although the controversy of the games on Sunday still continues in Orange County sports leagues, the boys’ stand is beginning to make a difference. Many local sports organizations are holding Sunday games less often.
So, as expected, the soccer team plays well on Saturday and wins easily. Then the Mormon boys wish their team the best and go to church on Sunday. The non-LDS members of the team play the championship game and lose. The team takes third place.
Eric shrugs his shoulders, “This game is a temporary thing. I really would have liked to play that championship game if it hadn’t been on Sunday, but I know that keeping the Sabbath will help me return to my Father in Heaven.”
Justin echoes Eric, “It was an individual decision for me, too. I know that it is right and so it didn’t bother me either. The next day some of the kids at school were a little upset, but I think they respected me for staying with my standards.”
And respect from peers, parents, coaches, and other players is a valuable by-product of the sacrifice these boys have made. But perhaps even more important than that is the fact that their example does not go unnoticed by the younger boys waiting for their turn to play the game—but not on Sunday.
Editor’s note: Because of the stand these and other LDS boys have made, regular-season soccer games are no longer held on Sunday in Orange County, California.

The same allegiance to tradition that makes missionary proselyting difficult also demands ingenuity in doing member-missionary work. About fourteen years ago, in Premia de Mar, a small suburb of Barcelona, Mari Carmen Clavet and Carol B. Rivero began holding home Relief Society. No branch existed in the town. The majority of the twenty-five women who attended were not members of the Church, but they still seemed to enjoy the prayerfully selected lessons prepared each week.

When four baptisms resulted from the Premia sisterhood, missionaries were sent to the small town and established the Premia de Mar Branch, although there were no priesthood holders at the time. For several years missionaries served as branch presidents, until a returned missionary, Javier Garriga—once a Primary student of Sister Rivero—moved to Premia de Mar. He now serves as branch president.

Approximately 18 months ago, in the fall of 2017, my 64-year-old brother Mike informed me that he had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He also told me that he had received a priesthood blessing from his home teacher and that he had met with his bishop. He later texted me a picture of the Oakland California Temple taken from the hospital where he was receiving treatment, with the caption “Look what I can see from my hospital room.”
I was as surprised by his comments about home teachers, priesthood blessings, bishops, and temples as I was about the cancer. You see, Mike, a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood, hadn’t regularly attended church for close to 50 years.
As a family, we were almost as intrigued with his spiritual progress as we were with his progress in fighting the cancer, largely because of his now frequent questions about the Book of Mormon, the sealing power, and life after death. As the months passed and the cancer spread, a need for additional and more specialized treatment eventually brought Mike to Utah and the Huntsman Cancer Institute.
Shortly after his arrival, Mike was visited by John Holbrook, the ward mission leader of the ward that served the care facility where he was now living. John commented that “it was obvious to me that Mike was a son of God” and that they quickly developed a bond and a friendship, which led to John becoming Mike’s de facto ministering brother. There was an immediate invitation to have the missionaries visit, which my brother politely declined, but a month into their friendship, John asked again, explaining to Mike, “I think you’d enjoy hearing the gospel message.” This time the invitation was accepted, leading to meetings with the missionaries, as well as visits with Bishop Jon Sharp, whose conversations eventually led to Mike receiving his patriarchal blessing, 57 years after his baptism.
In early December of last year, following months of procedures, Mike decided to stop the cancer treatments, which were causing severe side effects, and to just let nature take its course. We were informed by his doctor that Mike had approximately three months to live. In the meantime, the gospel questions continued—as did the visits and support of his local priesthood leaders. On our visits with Mike, we often saw an open copy of the Book of Mormon on the bedstand as we discussed the Restoration of the gospel, priesthood keys, temple ordinances, and the eternal nature of man.
By mid-December, with his patriarchal blessing in hand, Mike actually appeared to be gaining strength, and his prognosis of at least another three months seemed likely. We even made plans for him to join us for Christmas, for New Year’s, and beyond. On December 16, I received an unexpected call from Bishop Sharp, who informed me that he and the stake president had interviewed Mike, had found him worthy to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood, and asked when I would be available to participate. The ordinance was scheduled for that Friday, December 21.
When the day arrived, my wife, Carol, and I arrived at the care facility and were immediately met in the hallway near his room and informed that Mike had no pulse. We entered the room to find the patriarch, his bishop, and his stake president already waiting—and then Mike opened his eyes. He recognized me and acknowledged that he could hear me and was ready to receive the priesthood. Fifty years after Mike had been ordained a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood, I had the privilege, assisted by his local leaders, to confer the Melchizedek Priesthood and ordain my brother to the office of elder. Five hours later, Mike passed away, crossing the veil to meet our parents as a holder of the Melchizedek Priesthood.
John, who was Mike’s friend, ministering brother, and a former mission president, used to tell his missionaries that “if someone is on a list that says ‘not interested,’ don’t give up. People change.” He then told us, “Mike changed mightily.” John was first a friend, providing frequent encouragement and support—but his ministering didn’t stop at friendly visits. John knew that a minister is more than a friend and that friendship is magnified as we minister.
Knowing that he would soon die, my brother Mike commented, “It’s amazing how pancreatic cancer can make you focus on what’s most important.” Thanks to wonderful men and women who saw a need, did not judge, and ministered like the Savior, it wasn’t too late for Mike. For some, change may come sooner; for others, perhaps beyond the veil. However, we must remember that it is never too late and no one has ever wandered so far from the path that he or she is beyond the reach of the infinite Atonement of Jesus Christ, which is limitless in its duration and scope.

When Elder Sergio R. Vargas fell in love with Andrea Sanchez, he thought he had a simple solution to their religious differences: they would have one wedding in his church for his family and another wedding in her church for her family.
He quickly learned, however, that doing so would not be that easy. Andrea was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and she wanted a temple marriage. So she invited him to learn more about her faith from the missionaries.
Elder Vargas accepted the invitation, which changed his life.
He recalled working for a salmon company at the time, helping transport live fish by sea. During a 25-hour voyage, he found a private place to read the Book of Mormon and ask Heavenly Father about the gospel. It was a spiritual turning point.
Elder Vargas was born on November 2, 1976, in Puerto Varas, Chile, where he and his two siblings were raised. His mother, Gladys Barria, kept the home while his father, Renato Vargas, kept the peace as a police officer. Despite encounters with missionaries as a young man, he was more interested in playing basketball than learning the gospel.
It was not until Elder Vargas met Sister Vargas that he was prepared to hear the missionaries with an open mind and heart, he said. They were married on July 26, 2003, and were later sealed in the Santiago Chile Temple. The couple has three children.

I remember especially one occasion. My brother and I were returning from school during the aftermath of a severe tropical storm. The trail that we usually followed had been covered by a mud slide. Being the resourceful young boys that we were, we decided that nothing could keep us from going home. On a nearby steep hillside was a drainage pipe situated quite high above the rocky ground. If we were to get to our village, we would need to walk along that pipe. The pipe was suspended over a stream which, although normally small, had turned into a rushing torrent of mud and water. Carrying our school bags, we went up the hill and continued our expedition.
We both began cautiously treading along the narrow, slippery drainage pipe. As I approached the other side, I looked back to see how my brother was doing. I was startled to see that he had made his way only halfway and had come to a complete stop. He, being older and wiser, had realized what a precarious perch we were on and had instinctively frozen in his tracks, unable to continue. It was a terrifying moment for us as we realized the danger he was in, paralyzed by fear and perched there on a slippery, narrow drainage pipe suspended above a torrential river.
Then I got a big surprise. I heard the loudest scream for help I have ever heard in my life. His incredible bellow echoed through the hills and valleys. Luckily, Aunt Gu Ma was working in the fields below and heard us. She came quickly to his rescue. She lovingly guided him along and led us both home to safety.

One autumn morning as Ellen and the other children had gone to the woods to gather nuts, they were startled by the booming of the cannon from the top of Fort Hill. Kathrine Howard came racing across the meadow, calling and beckoning to them.
“What is it, Mama?” cried Ellen, running to meet her.
“A tall white sail has been sighted off Cape Cod. It’s heading for Plymouth. Governor Bradford fears it may be a French vessel coming to raid us.”
“Where’s Papa?”
“Captain Standish has marshaled every man and boy who can handle a gun,” Kathrine panted.
The vessel, when she hove into sight, ran up a white flag bearing the red cross of the English. A cry of joy went up from the anxiously watching crowd, and everyone raced for the shore. When the first little boat with its passengers ran aground, Ellen rushed into the shallow water.
“Sarah! Roger!” she cried as her sister and brother alighted.
The tears, laughter, and hugging at this joyous reunion were quite a contrast to the sadness at the time of their parting.
The ship, Fortune, with the thirty-five men, women, and children who had come to live in Plymouth, dropped anchor in her harbor just a little less than a year after the Mayflower had anchored at Cape Cod. One of the first to come ashore was Deacon Robert Cushman, who brought with him formal legal rights to the land the settlers now occupied.

My friends and I decided to give it a try. After a few attempts, we added a significant new component. In addition to becoming more observant ourselves, we shared our selfies with members of our extended families. This helped us to connect with them as we shared our everyday discoveries.
After talking about these “awe walks” for a few weeks, one sister in my ward commented: “Some of us are very involved in family history. This is a good way to supplement our own personal history by talking about our personal insights and observations.”
Another sister, who missed seeing family members during the coronavirus pandemic, said: “During COVID, I felt more alone and isolated than I had in years. Even our children and grandchildren stayed away so that we wouldn’t get the virus. We missed seeing them and talking about their plans. We thought sending these selfies with brief comments could be a good way to express gratitude for our blessings without being preachy.”
Initially, family members didn’t quite know how to respond. Mostly they gave one-word replies like “Nice” or “Interesting.” But as we continued, we received more comments and had conversations with extended family members that otherwise would never have occurred to us.

As a young college student of peace and conflict studies, I took great interest in any process that could be used for resolving conflict. One life-altering conversation with a friend introduced me to a process that I had never heard of before: companionship council.
While sharing about his mission, my friend told me that companionship council is the regular check-in where missionary companionships discuss how they are working together and how to improve. My friend had found the process so helpful as a missionary that he planned to use it in his marriage someday. The idea sank deep into my heart. I read about companionship council in Preach My Gospel and talked to other returned missionaries about their experiences with it. I saw how companionship councils, similar to family councils, could be used to address and prevent many of the destructive conflicts we face in our relationships today.
My husband, James, and I began holding weekly companionship councils before we were even married. I can still remember our first meeting. James was so open, kind, understanding, and willing to take my thoughts seriously that I felt confident in our ability to build a happy marriage.
Now well into our life together, we have continued the tradition of weekly companionship council. While our relationship isn’t perfect, we both agree that the many sessions we’ve held have helped us find deeper joy and fulfillment in our marriage than we thought possible.
Taking notes will also help you to remember—in the words of President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985)—“your triumphs over adversity, your recovery after a fall, your progress when all seemed black, [and] your rejoicing when you [succeed].” James and I are so grateful that we have kept a record of the nearly 800 companionship council sessions we have held over the years. What a joy it is to look back and see how far we’ve come!

One night my elementary school principal came to our house for a meeting. After the meeting I asked her if she had a Book of Mormon. She told me she didn’t have one, but she would like one.
Three weeks later I went to a missionary fireside. The missionaries gave me a copy of the Book of Mormon to give to a nonmember friend. I didn’t know who to give it to. Then the Holy Ghost whispered to me the name of my principal.
I told my dad I wanted to take the Book of Mormon to her. I marked one of my 7. Dad took me to her house after the fireside, and I gave it to her.
A month later, when the missionaries came to our house for dinner, they asked me if I knew anyone they could visit. I told them about the nice lady I had given the Book of Mormon to.
The next time the missionaries came to dinner, they said they had visited her and they had a feeling that someday she would join the Church!