Gospel Story Finder

A few weeks ago, I flew to New York City to meet a new granddaughter. As my daughter and her husband met me at the door with their little three-day-old infant, there was an obvious radiance in that apartment. As they placed Hannah, who will be named after my mother, in my arms, she looked like a curled-up little doll with lots of dark hair. Within a few days, Hannah was stretching out her long legs and her long, thin feet, and I started to think of all of the things she will experience as she starts growing up. Perhaps she’ll have some of the same fears that I had—like being afraid to be alone in the dark at age six or seven. At age thirteen or fourteen, she may be sure, as I was, that there will never be boys as tall as she is. That concern was increased for me the following year when I became convinced that a person with feet as large as mine would surely never marry.
Those kinds of concerns are pretty normal, and the things that concern any of you would surely be concerns to me. But my greatest concern is that each one of you is growing in your spiritual understanding.
I have tremendous reverence for each one of you. My hope for you during these important years between the ages of twelve and eighteen is that you are going from being a dependent child to becoming a righteous, problem-solving woman of faith. It is a mighty work you do during these years, and when you do your work well, you will build a foundation for a responsible and righteous life.
When your leaders encourage you in the Young Women program to get involved with Personal Progress, I hope you will understand that this represents much more than goal-setting and receiving recognition, although that is very important. The greatest goal is that you would constantly choose experiences that would exercise or strengthen your faith in our Savior, Jesus Christ.
There is a chapter in the book of Alma—chapter 32—which seems to me to be written especially for young women. Alma teaches us how to exercise our faith and increase our belief in the words of our Heavenly Father. Would you go home and read this chapter and draw a circle around every time it says the word. Then read the first verse in the book of John where it says, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1:1; emphasis added). And then in verse 14, “And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth” (John 1:14; emphasis added).
In the book of John, the Word is referring to our Savior Jesus Christ. The prophet Alma, in teaching us about faith, helps us understand how our faith in Jesus Christ can be strengthened. Alma compares the word, or the gospel, encompassing our faith in the Savior, to a seed. In his words:
“Now, if ye give place, that a seed may be planted in your heart, behold, if it be a true seed, or a good seed, if ye do not cast it out by your unbelief, that ye will resist the Spirit of the Lord, behold, it will begin to swell within your breasts; and when you feel these swelling motions, ye will begin to say within yourselves—It must needs be that this is a good seed, or that the word is good, for it beginneth to enlarge my soul; yea, it beginneth to enlighten my understanding, yea, it beginneth to be delicious to me.
“Now behold, would not this increase your faith? I say unto you, Yea; nevertheless it hath not grown up to a perfect knowledge” (Alma 32:28–29; emphasis added).
Personal Progress is like an experiment on the word. There are experiences with prayer, scripture study, strengthening family relationships, and service to others. Exercising our faith will increase and strengthen it. As we watch the accomplishments of great athletes, it is surprising to me that some would suppose that our spiritual growth comes without effort when our physical ability requires exercise and training.
Now listen to the wonderful promise that is given to those who exercise their faith—who will continue to nourish the word:
“But if ye will nourish the word, yea, nourish the tree as it beginneth to grow, by your faith with great diligence, and with patience, looking forward to the fruit thereof, it shall take root; and behold it shall be a tree springing up unto everlasting life” (Alma 32:41; emphasis added).
Growing up spiritually requires faith, great diligence, and patience.
It takes maturity to look forward to those things that have eternal consequence.
In infancy, little Hannah responds to food when hungry. She responds to gentle voices and dry diapers. It will be some time before she realizes that her mother is reading the scriptures to her while she feeds her. It will be many, many months before she knows why heads are bowed and prayers are spoken at the dinner table. Yet her faith will begin to take root in this trusting environment. A little child can learn to respond to good feelings, but you are learning to take responsibility for your faith.
Listen to the words of three young women as each had experiences that provided a chance to exercise her faith.
[A video segment was shown in which several young women spoke of events and challenges in their own lives and the effect of those things on their faith.]
Each of these young women had a different kind of experience, but each chose to exercise and increase her faith. Sarah disregarded a feeling that what she was doing was wrong because of her eagerness to learn to drive. After a bad experience, faith gave her the motivation or the courage to evaluate her very frightening experience and make changes. Did you notice that at first she felt unworthy and unloved because she had made an unwise choice? She said she felt kind of worthless. Those feelings are normal after making a mistake, but she wisely evaluated what had happened and why it had happened that way. She reminded herself of her Heavenly Father’s love and what He would have wanted. She learned to listen to parents and acknowledge the feeling of warning. She recognized how she might use this understanding in another situation. This way every experience can become a growth experience. Our Heavenly Father wants us to overcome bad experiences and not remain stuck in our feelings of being unworthy.
The second young woman, Carly, experienced difficult family circumstances through a change in her father’s employment and a move to another state. She learned the value of family relationships and being together. Through united faith and prayers, she experienced the blessing of feeling our Heavenly Father’s love and support in bringing their family back together. Her faith was strengthened.
In the third story, Paulette had a different experience when she learned to accept an outcome that was not what she had hoped for. She knew about the great power of faith, a power that could move mountains, but when her friend’s mother died, she exercised her faith by trusting in Heavenly Father’s plan for us. Growing up spiritually requires us to see beyond our own desires and to enlarge our way of seeing things. We not only have to let go of our selfishness but sometimes let go of things we want very badly to come to understand our Heavenly Father’s point of view.
It is so important in this day that we each build an inner core of spirituality. As you exercise your faith and feel that spirituality grow, you will begin to feel more secure. You will feel more confident. Gradually we will come to more fully understand what it means to completely trust in our Heavenly Father and stand as a witness of God (see Mosiah 18:9). As we become righteous, problem-solving women of faith, we will learn to represent Him and do His work.
Three years ago I had another little granddaughter, named after me—Emily Janette. On the day of her blessing, I felt a tremendous desire for her welfare and a hope that the good things in life would come to her. In that instant, I thought of what it means when each one of us takes upon ourselves the name of Jesus Christ through our baptismal covenants. I have thought of His great desire for our welfare. I feel the love He has for the young women of His church. I have also thought of His great love and appreciation to you leaders—those of you who teach doctrine, who model righteous behavior, who provide an environment of trust where others can develop faith and practice righteous living.
I have a testimony of our Savior’s love for us. He understands our challenges. He will help us. We were intended to have experiences that will help us know good from evil. Most of us make mistakes. We can’t be perfect alone. The atoning gift of Jesus Christ allows us to let go of our weaknesses and be strengthened by His perfection. I bear my testimony of His atoning gift to us in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Through harrowing experiences, he learned that the Lord cares for his Saints even in the midst of calamities. As fourteen-year-old Marion and his family were attempting to escape the perils of the Mexican revolution—taking with them only one trunk of belongings for the entire family—two rebel soldiers stopped them, took all of their money, and aimed their guns at them.
“I offered a prayer to my Heavenly Father to spare my life,” he recalled. “For some reason, these Mexicans did not fire, and we continued on safely to the railroad station. For the preservation of my life on this occasion I have always been very grateful to the Lord, and this experience has given me a desire to live in such a manner as to demonstrate to the Lord my appreciation.” (Instructor, July 1943, p. 401.)

“What’s this?” Sam asked Mom, poking the pile of clothes on the kitchen chair.
“Sister Fernandez brought them over for you,” Mom said. “Why don’t you try them on while I finish making the salad?”
“OK!” Sam grabbed the clothes and headed to his room.
First he tried on a couple of T-shirts, one red and one blue. They fit just fine. So did the church pants, which was a good thing. His own church pants had been looking kind of short lately.
Next Sam tried on some jeans. Jeans were great for playing in, and they had lots of pockets. Sam slipped his hands into the front pockets. His right hand felt a piece of paper, and he took it out to see what it was.
The paper was a dollar bill.
“Oh!” Sam held the dollar in both hands. With a dollar, he could buy a candy bar or a bag of chips or a soda. If Mom took him to the dollar store, he could even buy a toy.
Sam sighed and set the dollar bill on the dresser. It wasn’t his.
Except—Sister Fernandez had given him the clothes, hadn’t she? So in a way, she had given him the dollar. She wouldn’t care, Sam thought. She wouldn’t even remember.
Sam started to leave the room. He tried not to look at the dollar on his dresser, but his eyes went back to the money. He didn’t feel right about keeping it.
Sam picked up the dollar and took it to the kitchen. “The clothes all fit,” he said to Mom. Then he showed her the dollar. “I found this in one of the pockets.”
Mom put down the salad spoon and fork she was holding. “What do you think you should do?”
“I should give it back to Sister Fernandez.”
Mom looked at the clock. “We have time for a quick trip,” she said.
When Sam and his mother got to Sister Fernandez’s house, she welcomed them inside.
“I like the clothes,” Sam said. “But I found this in the pocket of the jeans.” He held out the dollar.
Sister Fernandez looked pleased as she accepted the money. “That reminds me of when I was a girl and found some coins in the couch cushions. When I took them to my mother instead of spending them, she was so proud of me!”
Mom put her arm around Sam’s shoulders. “Just like I’m proud of Sam.”
“Sam, would you do me a favor?” Sister Fernandez asked.
Sam nodded.
“I’d like you to buy a treat for an honest boy I know,” Sister Fernandez said, and she gave the dollar back to Sam.
“Thank you!” Sam said. His heart felt full. He knew it wasn’t because of the dollar in his hand.
That night at dinner, Mom told the rest of the family what had happened.
Sam’s little sister Rachel stopped slurping her soup and said, “So you got a dollar today!”
“You got some new clothes too,” Dad said. “But that’s not all, is it?”
“No,” Sam said. “I got something better. I got to do the right thing.”

I was first exposed to pornography at age 13. I found it accidentally on social media, not knowing what it was and not understanding it. I went from unintentional exposure and curiosity to intentionally seeking it out.
At that time, my leaders’ messages about pornography seemed to be saying that it was something only boys struggled with. This left me feeling a lot of shame. I thought I’d never be able to tell anyone about my struggle. I knew about Jesus Christ’s Atonement, but because I thought that I was the only girl with this struggle, I felt like my situation was out of the Savior’s reach. I felt like the exception.
During those years, in places like seminary or devotionals—wherever the Spirit was present—I often felt prompted to set up a meeting with my bishop. For so long, what kept me from doing this was the idea that I had a reputation to uphold as a good kid from an active family. I thought he would see me for who I was—and I didn’t believe that person was lovable. I thought I would be met with instant punishment.
When I finally set up that meeting, it went very differently from how I expected. Instead of handing out punishment, my bishop told me: “You are still a daughter of God. You are still just as loved, and you are still just as valued.”
My bishop told me: “You are still a daughter of God. You are still just as loved, and you are still just as valued.”
I remember feeling overwhelmed with love. That was the first time I had felt the power of the Savior’s Atonement so strongly in my life. Looking back, I understand why those words my bishop said were so important.
When you’re struggling with pornography, you go through a cycle of shame. For me, I would feel out of touch with my own identity and then use pornography to deal with those negative emotions. Then I would feel shame and isolate myself from others, and the cycle would repeat.
For so long, I tried to rely on my own willpower to “just stop.” But I couldn’t do it on my own. My bishop helped me remember my identity—that I am a beloved daughter of God. As I met with him and remembered that truth, I started to make genuine progress.
Photographs courtesy of Madelyn and her family
Madelyn knows pornography won’t be her only mountain to climb. With the help of the Savior and the right tools, she keeps finding strength to overcome life’s challenges. This photo was taken right before she climbed a glacier in Alaska, USA!
At first, I was afraid to pray. I saw Heavenly Father as a God of justice and anger. But going through the process of continual repentance has helped me understand the nature of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. Knowing that repenting one time doesn’t make me immune to this struggle has allowed me to me keep relying on Their divine help. Heavenly Father already knew about and understood my trials; I just needed to reach out to Him.
I learned that both Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are merciful and understanding. As you turn to Them, They will walk alongside you and hold your hand every step of the way.
Understanding God’s nature also helped me understand Satan and his tools and how they work in direct opposition to God. One of Satan’s most powerful tools is shame, which is different from guilt or “godly sorrow” (2 Corinthians 7:10). When you feel guilt, you realize you’ve made a mistake. But shame links the negative feelings you have about yourself when you sin to your identity, like you are those feelings.
Satan wanted me to believe that I could overcome this challenge on my own. This lie was something that kept me from talking to my bishop about my struggle with pornography. I felt like I couldn’t meet with him until I could say it was something I had struggled with in the past. Satan uses your individual weaknesses to make you feel unworthy to seek the Savior’s healing power.
I learned that Satan works on us when we’re isolated, so our best defense is connection. Sometimes it’s as simple as reaching out to others and spending meaningful time with good friends. Connecting with Heavenly Father, with yourself, and with others (especially with those who see you the way Heavenly Father does) is the best way to remember your true identity: a valued child of God.
Eventually I started getting promptings to help other young women who are struggling with pornography. I felt a higher purpose. I decided to care more about what Heavenly Father thinks than what others around me might think, so I started speaking openly about my experiences.
Once you feel the undeniable joy of continual repentance, you want to share it with others! Now I continue to share this joy as I serve as a full-time missionary.
Madi was assigned to labor as a full-time missionary in the Singapore Mission, speaking Malay.
You are never alone, and there is hope.
This struggle is something you can overcome with the help of the Savior, trusted loved ones and leaders, and the right tools. Get yourself out of isolation and reach out to someone who sees you through God’s eyes. Ask them what they see in you!
No matter what your fight is, you are never beyond the reach of the Savior and His Atonement. You are redeemable. Heavenly Father loves you completely, and it’s worth it to keep repenting.
You are never alone, and there is hope.
“Jesus Christ has the power to help you resist pornography and repent. Turn toward Him; turn away from darkness. Your bishop can help you receive strength and forgiveness through the Savior.”
For the Strength of Youth: A Guide for Making Choices (2022), 20.

Forty-six years ago I was called as an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve, and for the first time, I came to this pulpit. I was 37 years old. I found myself standing among the venerable and wise prophets and apostles, “whose names,” as the song proclaims, “we all revere” (“Oh, Holy Words of Truth and Love,” Hymns, no. 271). I felt how keenly inadequate I was.
About that time here in the Tabernacle I had a defining experience. It gave me assurance and courage.
In those days Primary conference was held here before the April conference. I came through a south door as the opening song was being sung by a large choir of Primary children. Sister Lue S. Groesbeck, a member of the Primary general board, was leading them. They sang:
Rev’rently, quietly, lovingly we think of thee;
Rev’rently, quietly, softly sing our melody.
Rev’rently, quietly, humbly now we pray,
Let thy Holy Spirit dwell in our hearts today.
(“Reverently, Quietly,” Children’s Songbook, 26)
As the children sang quietly, the organist, who understood that excellence does not call attention to itself, did not play a solo while they sang. He skillfully, almost invisibly blended the young voices into a melody of inspiration, of revelation. That was the defining moment. It fixed deeply and permanently in my soul that which I most needed to sustain me in the years to follow.
I felt perhaps that which Elijah the prophet had felt. He sealed the heavens against the wicked king Ahab and fled to a cave to seek the Lord:
“A great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks … ; but the Lord was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake:
“And after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire: and after the fire [came] a still small voice.
“And it was so,” the record says, “when Elijah heard it, that he wrapped his face in his mantle, and went out, and stood in the entering in of the cave” to speak to the Lord (1 Kings 19:11–13).
I felt something of what the Nephites must have felt when the Lord appeared to them: “They heard a voice as if it came out of heaven; and they cast their eyes round about, for they understood not the voice which they heard; and it was not a harsh voice, neither was it a loud voice; nevertheless, and notwithstanding it being a small voice it did pierce them that did hear to the center, insomuch that there was no part of their frame that it did not cause to quake; yea, it did pierce them to the very soul, and did cause their hearts to burn” (3 Nephi 11:3).
It is this still, small voice which Elijah and the Nephites heard that the Prophet Joseph Smith understood when he wrote, “Thus saith the still small voice, which whispereth through and pierceth all things” (D&C 85:6).
In that defining moment, I understood that the still, small voice is felt more than heard. If I hearkened to it, I would be all right in my ministry.
After that, I had the assurance that the Comforter, the Holy Ghost, is there for everyone who will respond to the invitation to ask, to seek, and to knock (see Matthew 7:7–8; Luke 11:9–10; 3 Nephi 14:7–8; D&C 88:63). I knew I would be all right. As the years have unfolded, so it has been.

Seminary student Girly Mbuli explains how her faith and love of the scriptures saved her from a terrible situation.
“One day my friend Tiny Gugu and I had to go to Zondi to take some books to another girl. On our way back we saw a gang of boys. Gangs here rape girls, steal cars, do everything horrible. We started to run, but it was too late.
“The boys faced us. They had weapons. They made us go up on a hill and meant to do awful things to us. On the way up the hill, I was saying a prayer to my Heavenly Father. I don’t remember which scriptures I tried to say, but I kept thinking of them. I asked for help to be calm and not afraid. I felt peace come into my heart.
“When you are on top of that hill, you can see everything. The boys looked down and asked where I was staying. I pointed to Jabulane and something told me to say I was with my grandmother and my friend Lindiwe.
“The leader looked at me and said, ‘You are not afraid. Let them go!’ I later found out the brother of my friend Lindiwe is the boss of this gang, and he stays in the house of my grandmother. That is why they let us go free.
“When I tell this story to people, they refuse to believe we survived. But I know I did and I know why. It was because of my faith in Heavenly Father. I know that Isaiah 1:18 can be true for those guilty gang boys, if they will repent: “Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow.” [Isa. 1:18]

The day after my 16th birthday I went out to my mailbox feeling that I needed a spiritual push in the right direction. There were some mysterious packages, the kind you usually receive on your birthday, but the thing that really caught my interest most was my May 1976 New Era. It’s the best birthday present I have ever received. Inside were more beautiful gifts than I could imagine. Each article said something to me or helped me do something to improve myself. “Youth Speak Out on Standards” reminded me to keep my clothes to Church standards and not think that just because I am 16 I can be slack. “Teacher, You’re My Best Friend” reminded me of how last summer I put on a play with kids six to twelve years of age, and how much those kids benefited from it. I then realized that I couldn’t let those kids down this year, and I did another play that raised 80 dollars for a charity. “How to Gain a Testimony” really shot out at me, because as an investigator I really need to realize how important it is to gain a testimony, and since then I have been striving hard for one. “Soldiers of God” reminded me to stick to the morals and values that I chose for myself four years ago—that is, to be chaste. “A Service Project with a Special Meaning” reminded me of a close call with death from which I escaped with a stronger testimony that God lives. “Hong Kong School Girl” reminded me of my Chinese friend who thinks that “there are many paths to the kingdom of heaven, and no matter which one you take, you will still get there.” That made me realize that I should share more of the Church with her. She’s interested, so I hope I will be able to let her see for herself the truths of life that I enjoy. “A Fable” built my morale and my ability to withstand criticism. Oftentimes my family members or nonmember friends are hard on me about the Church, and this article really gave me encouragement and strengthened my will not to let anyone persuade me to stop living the gospel.

Later, after the terrifying experience of a wartime Nazi concentration camp, she found herself face to face with one of the S.S. guards.

“It was at a church service in Munich that I saw him, the former S.S. man who had stood guard at the shower room door in the processing center at Ravensbruck. He was the first of our actual jailers that I had seen since that time. And suddenly it was all there—the roomful of mocking men, the heaps of clothing, [her sister] Betsie’s pain-blanched face.
“He came up to me as the church was emptying, beaming and bowing. ‘How grateful I am for your message, Fraulein.’ he said. ‘To think that, as you say, He has washed my sins away!’
“His hand was thrust out to shake mine. And I, who had preached so often to the people in Bloemendaal the need to forgive, kept my hand at my side.
“Even as the angry, vengeful thoughts boiled through me, I saw the sin of them. Jesus Christ had died for this man; was I going to ask for more? Lord Jesus, I prayed, forgive me and help me to forgive him.
“I tried to smile, I struggled to raise my hand. I could not. I felt nothing, not the slightest spark of warmth or charity. And so again I breathed a silent prayer. Jesus, I cannot forgive him. Give me Your forgiveness.
“As I took his hand the most incredible thing happened. From my shoulder along my arm and through my hand a current seemed to pass from me to him, while into my heart sprang a love for this stranger that almost overwhelmed me.
“And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness any more than on our goodness that the world’s healing hinges, but on His. When He tells us to love our enemies, He gives, along with the command, the love itself” (Corrie ten Boom, The Hiding Place, New York: Bantam Books, 1971, pp. 44–45, 238).

On the anniversary of my brother’s death, I reflected on my time since he died. I remembered not only the extreme pain I felt but also the blessings God gave to me.
I never understood how people could say that the death of a loved one could bring blessings. I couldn’t understand how I could possibly have joy and gratitude for something that hurt me so deeply. There was one night, however, that changed my perspective entirely.
I woke up in the middle of the night with the heaviest heart I’d ever had. The pain was suffocating me. I fell to my knees and sobbed a prayer to my Heavenly Father. All my life I had been taught about the Atonement and Jesus Christ’s miraculous healing power. Now my faith was being tested. Did I really believe? I asked my Father in Heaven to please heal my heart. The pain was too much for me to deal with alone.
Then a feeling of peace, comfort, and love swept over my entire body. I felt as though God had wrapped His arms around me and was protecting me from the intense pain I had felt. I still missed my brother, but I was able to see with different eyes. There was so much for me to learn from this experience.
I know the Lord’s love and peace are available. We need only to partake.

The last day of her fifth grade year was a day Rose would never forget.
She was eleven years old, quiet, and shy. But she loved being with her friends, playing games and competing with them.
That day was a field day. She thought, I can choose to do whatever I want!
A few teachers had set up games and races for the children. Rose and her two best friends, Tricia and Kelly, decided to help some of the teachers set things up. Rose had a lot of fun helping her own teacher, Mr. Charles, put up signs and get the first-, second-, and third-place ribbons ready for the winners.
Of course, Rose wanted to be one of the winners. In fact, she thought, I sure would like a first-place ribbon to take home!
At last the fun began. Rose, Tricia, and Kelly competed in several games together. Each of them won second- and third-place ribbons.
After a while, Kelly decided that she wanted to help the first grade teacher with the sack race, and Tricia wanted to enter the drawing contest. Rose didn’t know what else she wanted to do, so she decided to walk around.
When she came to the peanut race, it looked like it would be fun. She watched the younger children’s division and saw that it was no ordinary race. She clapped her hands as the winner got to the finish line—it was her happy little neighbor, Andi Marie.
When she signed up for her own division, Rose saw that about nine other girls had entered. She didn’t know any of them very well, but they all seemed to be friends.
The teacher in charge, Mr. Stevens, was one of the favorite teachers in the school. He handed each girl a peanut and a flat, wooden ice-cream spoon and explained the rules. “First, place the peanut on the spoon. When I blow the whistle, go as fast as you can toward the finish line, trying to not let the peanut fall off. If it does, stop, pick it up, put it back on your spoon, and continue the race. The first one who crosses the finish line will be the winner. No cheating!”
As Mr. Stevens headed for the finish line, which seemed very far away, Rose saw that many kids had gathered along both sides of the race course. Her heart began to pound.
The whistle blew, and off they went! Rose was determined to win, but it was harder than she’d thought it would be. Every few steps the peanut rolled off her spoon. She kept stopping to pick it up, put it back on her spoon, and hurry on. It was fun at first, but then she heard some kids laughing. The laughter got louder and louder. Mr. Stevens was yelling out over the noise, “Come on, keep it up! You can make it!”
When she dared to glance up, she saw that all the other girls had already crossed the finish line. How could they have gotten there so fast? Rose thought. They were laughing, too—and hooting—at her: “You’re too slow! We all beat you! Ha-ha-ha!”
All eyes were on Rose. The peanut kept rolling off, and she kept picking it up as even the bystanders laughed and made fun.
She was only halfway down the racecourse. Her face flushed bright red with embarrassment. The next time the peanut rolled off, she stopped, picked it up, and walked off the course. What’s the use of going on? She asked herself. She just wanted to go home or hide someplace.
Feeling a tap on her shoulder, she turned around to see a concerned Mr. Stevens. When he asked why she had walked off, all she could do was shrug. If she’d tried to speak, she would have cried.
She never forgot what Mr. Stevens said to her then: “You should have kept going. Even if you had come in last, you would have been the winner. Didn’t you know that every one of those girls had their thumbs on the peanuts? They all cheated. You were the only one who wasn’t cheating. But you gave up.”
“But you gave up” kept ringing in her ears. She didn’t like those words. She didn’t believe in being a quitter, but she had quit. Instead of being an embarrassed loser, she could have been a happy winner taking home the first-place ribbon!

First flight is as breathtaking an experience for eagles as it is for people, and the proud lords of the skyways start out as bumbling, incompetent aviators. They too often crash and break a wing on the first flight and become easy prey to starvation or some four-legged predator. Kent once saw a ten-week-old eagle make its first flight and remembers: “He hopped off the nest as if he knew what he was doing, but all of a sudden he was speeding down toward the opposite cliff and losing altitude fast. You could see the shock in his eyes. His wings were spread out, his primary and secondary feathers flapping back and forth in the breeze. His head was moving back and forth watching the ground and looking back up at the nest—looking everywhere at once. He looked as if he was wondering what he had gotten himself into, whether he had really blown it, but you could also feel his exhilaration and the thrill of his first flight. He dropped down to the mouth of the canyon and hit an updraft that just pushed him right up out of sight. I found him the next day sitting on a tree unhurt.”

Four months into her second pregnancy, Delva was told that her baby had a rare chromosome disorder called trisomy 13. There was little chance for the baby’s survival, and because Delva’s life could also be at risk, doctors repeatedly advised her to abort the pregnancy. Faced with an uncertain outcome, Delva chose to trust Heavenly Father no matter what happened.
Christina Smith, photographer
I was told my baby wouldn’t survive for more than an hour if she lived at all. And if she did live, I was told she would have no quality of life. My doctor strongly advised me to terminate the pregnancy. I went to another doctor and was told the same thing: terminate the pregnancy.
Then I went to a doctor who was a friend and a member of the Church. I hoped the Spirit might prompt him to provide a different diagnosis. He looked at all the test results and ultrasounds and expressed the same concern as the other doctors. But he told me he would fast and pray for my family and hope for the best.
I saw many different doctors and specialists throughout my pregnancy. Each time they suggested termination because they feared the pregnancy would put my life at risk. But I couldn’t imagine doing that.
My husband and I were willing to live with whatever happened. If our daughter passed away, we would know that she is a precious spirit. If she lived and it was going to be a struggle, we had faith that we would be able to handle it.
It was still very difficult. I tried to keep my emotions inside because I had a two-year-old daughter and I didn’t want her to see me fall apart. I didn’t know what to do, what to think, or where to turn for help. My husband, friends, and family were supportive, but I felt that they did not fully understand what I was going through. The only person who could truly understand was the Lord. I prayed continually for comfort and guidance.
Eventually, I met with our bishop and explained what was going on. He invited the ward to fast for our family. This was a turning point for me. I began to feel heaven’s guiding light in every decision I had to make.
At eight and a half months, I went in for a 4D ultrasound.
Our baby was due in a few weeks, and I realized that it could be the end. I also wanted to have a recording of my daughter’s heartbeat to put inside a teddy bear to have something to remember her by.
In previous ultrasounds, doctors couldn’t see any physical features. Because of this, they said our daughter’s hands would be stubs and her face would be deformed. The images in a 4D ultrasound are more detailed, so when the technician began the ultrasound, I saw my daughter’s perfect hand waving at me on the screen. I also saw two perfect eyes and a perfect mouth. I had an overwhelming feeling that she wasn’t going to die.
When our daughter, MeLa, was born, specialists were standing by but were not needed. MeLa did not have trisomy 13. Doctors and specialists could not explain why, but my husband and I knew it was a miracle.
After MeLa was born, doctors recommended additional genetic testing to determine if she had any abnormalities. The test results revealed that she did have a rare genetic condition. The geneticist was concerned that MeLa would be blind, deaf, and unable to walk and talk. Today, however, while she does have some developmental delays, MeLa is able to see, hear, and use a training device to assist her in walking. She also says words here and there. She’s the happiest kid!
We are so grateful for the blessings we have received through this whole process. We know that Heavenly Father is the ultimate Creator and the ultimate Decider of life. We are just blessed to be a part of it. Every day we look at MeLa and know that she’s a miracle. Our children bring happiness to our lives and remind us that we have much to be grateful for.
Delva and Kirkome Netane enjoy the time they spend with their children, Teisa (right) and MeLa (left).
Though Delva’s second pregnancy was difficult, Delva and Kirkome are grateful for the blessings they have received. “This experience has brought our family closer to one another and closer to the Lord,” Delva says.
Recalling the difficult pregnancy, Kirkome says, “I was in turmoil. But my wife and I held on to our testimonies of the gospel. We held on to hope and agreed that if there was any chance we could give our daughter, we would do our best.”
“It is a blessing that we get to play with MeLa every day and see her smile,” Kirkome says. “It’s a constant witness to us that God is in control and that answers to prayers can come to us more vivid and alive than anything we could ever imagine.”

The afternoon I came home from my mission I paused before the plaster cast goshawk on the buffet in our dining room. Something fierce, unrelenting, in its eyes held me. Exquisitely wrought, the bird looked as if it were alive. I was home seven months early; a medical situation had cropped up, and the doctors thought I should live near Salt Lake for remedial treatments. The decision to cut the mission short was mine. The oncologist in Portland assured me I would not die. He said the chemotherapy should be administered near home where I could rest and be watched over by our family doctor. The situation was, the doctor in Portland insisted, in remission. The specialist at the University of Utah said it would be better in the long run not to step into another missionary experience near home right off, maybe in a few months or more. So the decision to come home early had left me shaken.
Everything in American Fork was the same: the steady whoosh of traffic on the freeway, our unfolding lawn, the orange-covered wicker couch in the sunken TV room—even Mom’s smile and Dad’s sport shirt. Yet the goshawk affronted me with what I thought was contempt. I touched its cold, beaked head.
“He’s about the size of a small Cooper,” said Dad, our resident ornithologist, “yet this bird has to flap his wings all the time. The larger hawks soar. These guys are not well known, but I like this kind of hawk, don’t you?”
“Never heard of one before,” I said.
“These little critters are tough. They’re survivors.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
“There’s not many around. They’re not endangered or anything. Mostly you’ll find these birds up in Canada. Mr. Crafton, the old man, made it for me. Do you like it?”
“Sure, but the eyes don’t let up on you.”
“Don’t you catch a real sense of dignity about it?” Underneath, the goshawk was whitish, its preened wings specked with dashes of blue, green, and white, its ebony eyeballs intense.
In his disarming way, Dad said, “There’s something special about it.”
“Yeah. It’s nice.”
“You know, they have to keep flying all the time.”
“So do I,” I thought.
Two weeks later I sat in the same place I did that afternoon I came home. I sat on the veranda in the white wrought iron chair under the magnificent spreading honey locust tree. At times I would figure I had it made. At other times it was like being in a dark woods without any path out. I had made the tough decision to come home—I knew it was right—but now I had to live with it. When I left the mission, I was a few weeks into leading a zone in Gresham, Oregon. The missionaries in the zone threw a small party: in one of the apartments the elders strung crepe paper streamers and the sisters cut two cherry pies. It was over in 20 minutes. At one point the whole mission had fasted and prayed for me. But under doctor’s orders I couldn’t fast. I did not get tired of sitting under the locust tree and remembering the past months. For days as I passed the goshawk I let it catch my eye, its stare still fierce, wise, penetrating.
One evening Dad and I lounged around in the TV room without much to do. Nothing was on TV. He hadn’t said much since I came home. Lying back in his recliner Dad balanced his ice cream bowl on his lap and watched me. Behind him, in the other room, above him, sat the goshawk in the dim shadows.
“A little over a year, Dad. That’s all I was out. I feel incomplete, unfinished, without direction.” My own half-eaten bowl of ice cream melted beside me.
“You’re at loose ends,” he said.
“There’s no way to make up seven months.”
Spooning his ice cream carefully, he kept an eye on me. “Your mission was—and still is—to save souls, not to spend a certain amount of time.”
“Yeah, I have my whole life ahead of me. Sure. I know.”
“Well, you do, don’t you?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“President Terhune called me, and we talked for quite awhile. He said you were a good missionary and had it in you to see this thing through. You’ll be a lot better off for facing up to it.”
“Yeah, sure.”
I looked up. The goshawk peered at me. His eye caught me, brought me to attention. His presence became a kind of conscience, reminding me of all that was left undone.
Dad spoke of the missionary experience as if it were a leaf that fell off a tree and was left on the path. I had loved the sense of certainty in living the mission rules. I wanted to do everything the right way. It irked me when a companion came up with ways to make himself comfortable with the rules. I eventually learned to relax and let down on preparation day. But as I became more fatigued, it was hard to be limited and not able to do it all.
Finally the end of my mission had come to a heart-rending session with President Terhune in the Church parking lot at North Vancouver. There I had made my final decision. I had to do it myself. I hadn’t been able to fast, but I had prayed a lot. President Terhune didn’t say anything, for which I was grateful. He had held me a long time in his embrace, then simply said, “You’ll continue on.”
“In life or death,” I thought. There was no running from it. Osteosarcoma. The word sounded like poetry—a lethal poetry of death in my bones. It was okay now, but it could get worse. Why does Father allow dark woods?

It was a spring day in Helsinki, Finland. The sun was shining brightly, and the snow was melting fast. For hours I had been working with my boys, Juha, eight, and Hannu, six, to keep melting snow from flooding our cellar. The nearby drain that should have handled the pooling water was still frozen solid.
As my husband left for work that morning, he told us to make sure we kept the water out of the cellar. We worked hard until the afternoon, when it was time to leave for Primary. (At that time Primary was held on a weekday.) I told my boys, however, that they would have to miss Primary in order to help stop the water from getting into the cellar. Besides, my husband wasn’t a member of the Church, and he would not understand how important Primary was to our sons.
In unison, Juha and Hannu assured me that if we went to Primary, Heavenly Father would see to it that the water wouldn’t reach the cellar. I looked back and forth from the pooling water to the faith-filled faces of my sons. Part of me said, “You cannot go because no power can stop the water from flooding the cellar.” I appealed to Heavenly Father with a prayer in my heart. Then I made a difficult decision.
“We are going to Primary now!” I declared as I threw down the buckets. No matter what happened, I was not going to injure my children’s faith.
The boys had a wonderful time at Primary. But as we drove home afterward, the closer we got to our house, the more my fears grew. Reaching the yard, the boys ran quickly to the cellar door. Looking down, they cried out, “Mother, what did we tell you?” I hurried over. I will never forget the sight that greeted my eyes. The area was completely dry, as if it had been mopped. There were no signs of water anywhere. Even now, 40 years later, it is hard for me to believe what I saw.
The glow in my boys’ eyes reflected joy and trust in Heavenly Father. Joy—and gratitude—filled my heart too!
No power in the world can beat childlike faith. The scriptures say that if we believe and doubt not, we can move a mountain (see Matthew 17:20). That day the power of my children’s faith stopped a flood.

It was Saturday, and there was work to do at my law office. But as stake president, I had committed to attend a service project with our stake Relief Society sisters. The sisters would be visiting sick children and expectant mothers in the Sergio Bernales de Collique-Comas Hospital in Lima, Peru. They would lend spiritual support, as well as deliver quilts and toys they had made during the year.
As I left behind everything else I had to do and headed for the hospital, the words of the first of many scriptures I thought of that day came to me: “When saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee? And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matt. 25:39–40).
A warm, peaceful feeling flooded my heart, and I knew this would be a special experience. The Spirit also whispered to me that the Lord had called me as stake president to love and help others—especially the sick and afflicted. Throughout the day, thoughts of our Savior and His compassionate ministrations were never far from my mind. In our small way, we labored to be like Him.
When I arrived at the hospital, I was greeted by the 60 warmest hearts and the 60 warmest smiles I had ever seen. And as the Relief Society sisters entered the hospital, I watched this sad and gloomy place begin to be filled with light and joy.
“It came to pass that Jesus blessed them … , and the light of his countenance did shine upon them” (3 Ne. 19:25).
When our visit was over, I felt that each of those who had visited the hospital that day was a new person. As I saw the beautiful smiles on the sisters’ faces, I realized that when we give care and service to our fellow beings, we feel the true joy that comes from serving God.
“If ye know these things, happy are ye if ye do them” (John 13:17).

When I was young, my mother was the only member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in our family. Each Sunday she would go to church alone because my dad wanted his children to go to the Methodist Church. But my dad didn’t go to church at all.
Things changed in 1989. I was baptized, and within two months, my dad was baptized as well. He later became my bishop.
It was an amazing change for my dad, and I remember it very well. I now want to be like him. Here’s why.
Before my dad became a Church member, he was doing all the bad things of the world. He drank all the time. I saw my dad drunk. I saw him smoke. He just stayed home and watched TV. We weren’t very happy.
It’s totally different now. He’s very calm, and he talks to me about incorporating the teachings of the gospel into my life. Every night before we have our evening prayers, he talks to all of us about the gospel and its importance.
Before, we used to try to have evening prayers, but my dad wouldn’t participate. He didn’t seem to care. But now he makes it a priority that we all gather together each night to thank Heavenly Father.
It’s been great to see the changes in my family that the Church has brought. I know if my dad had gone on as he was before—smoking and drinking—I might have followed his example and felt that those were things I should do. And he couldn’t have told me to stop because he was doing them too.
But he’s a member of the Church, and because he lived that other life, he knows that it won’t bring me happiness.
My dad also stresses that since I’m the oldest son, my younger brothers and younger sister are looking up to me. He says they will follow me and I need to be a good example so they will follow me in righteousness. That’s what I’m trying to do.
It’s been a real blessing to me to have a father who honors the priesthood. He always talks to me about the priesthood before I give a talk or bless the sacrament. He reminds me that I’m a priesthood holder and that I should be thankful for the priesthood because not all men have it.
So many teenagers here in Western Samoa drink and smoke and do things they shouldn’t. My dad’s example is like a protection to me.
With my dad leading the way, it’s so much easier to follow the teachings of Jesus Christ. And for that I’m grateful.

Another experience began 48 hours after my wife’s burial. At that time, I was rushed to the hospital in an acute medical crisis. I then spent the first four weeks of a six-week stay in and out of intensive care and in and out of consciousness.
Virtually all my experience in the hospital during that first period is lost to my memory. What is not lost is my memory of a journey outside the hospital, out to what seemed the edge of eternity. I cannot speak fully of that experience here, but I can say that part of what I received was an admonition to return to my ministry with more urgency, more consecration, more focus on the Savior, more faith in His word.
I couldn’t help but feel I was receiving my own personal version of a revelation given to the Twelve nearly 200 years ago:
“Thou shalt bear record of my name … [and] send forth my word unto the ends of the earth. …
“… Morning by morning; and day after day let thy warning voice go forth; and when the night cometh let not the inhabitants of the earth slumber, because of thy speech. …
“Arise[,] … take up your cross, [and] follow me.”
My beloved sisters and brothers, since that experience, I have tried to take up my cross more earnestly, with more resolve to find where I can raise an apostolic voice of both warmth and warning in the morning, during the day, and into the night.

In the private sanctuary of one’s own conscience lies that spirit, that determination, to cast off the old person and to measure up to the stature of true potential. But the way is rugged and the course is strenuous. So discovered John Helander from Göteborg, Sweden. John is 26 years of age and is handicapped, in that it is difficult for him to coordinate his motions.

At a youth conference in Kungsbacka, Sweden, John took part in an 800-meter running race. He had no chance to win. Rather, his was the opportunity to be humiliated, mocked, derided, scorned. Perhaps John remembered another who lived long ago and far away. Wasn’t He mocked? Wasn’t He derided? Wasn’t He scorned? But He prevailed. He won His race. Maybe John could win his.

What a race it was! Struggling, surging, pressing, the runners bolted far beyond John. There was wonderment among the spectators. Who is this runner who lags so far behind? The participants on their second lap of this two-lap race passed John while he was but halfway through the first lap. Tension mounted as the runners pressed toward the tape. Who would win? Who would place second? Then came the final burst of speed; the tape was broken. The crowd cheered; the winner was proclaimed.

The race was over—or was it? Who is this contestant who continues to run when the race is ended? He crosses the finish line on but his first lap. Doesn’t the foolish lad know he has lost? Ever onward he struggles, the only participant now on the track. This is his race. This must be his victory. No one among the vast throng of spectators leaves. Every eye is on this valiant runner. He makes the final turn and moves toward the finish line. There is awe; there is admiration. Every spectator sees himself running his own race of life.

As John approaches the finish line, the audience, as one, rises to its feet. There is a loud applause of acclaim. Stumbling, falling, exhausted but victorious, John Helander breaks the newly tightened tape. Officials are human beings, too. The cheering echoes for miles. And just maybe, if the ear is carefully attuned, that Great Scorekeeper—even the Lord—can be heard to say, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant.”

Braden and Dad carried heavy buckets of alligator pellets toward the feeding dock. The tops of the alligators’ heads came to the surface and glided toward them. When Braden and Dad reached the feeding spot, some of the alligators had their mouths open.
But Braden wasn’t scared. Working with Dad on the alligator farm was the best.
“Feeding time!” Braden said. He picked up a scoop of pellets and tossed them into the water.
Chomp. Chomp. Splash.
Some of the alligators caught the pellets in the air. Others snapped at them when they hit the water. Braden and Dad kept tossing the food until their buckets were empty.
“Thanks for helping me,” Dad said. “Let’s go. The missionaries will be coming soon.”
Braden and his family had started talking with the missionaries a few months ago. He liked the missionaries! And he liked learning about the Church. Dad was a member of the Church, but he hadn’t been going to church very much. Mom and Braden had never been baptized.
“Last week you set a goal to read Mosiah 18,” Sister Cox said that evening. “How did that go?”
Mom and Dad looked at each other and were quiet for a moment. “We were busy this week,” Mom said.
“I read it!” Braden said.
“Great job!” Sister Blood said, reaching over for a high five. “How did you feel after you read it?”
Braden gave a big smile. “Really good. And I prayed about being baptized. I really want to.”
“That’s great! I know that makes Heavenly Father very happy,” Sister Cox said. She turned to Braden’s mom. “How are you feeling about it?”
“I’m still not sure. I think I need a little more time,” Mom said.
Braden felt a little sad during the rest of the lesson. He wished both his parents were members of the Church. And he wanted to be a member of the Church too!
When the missionaries left, he told his parents that he meant what he said earlier. “I really want to be baptized. And …” Braden took a deep breath. “I really want Dad to baptize me.”
After a moment, Dad spoke up. “I really want that too.”
Mom was quiet. “Let’s pray about it.”
Braden knelt down with his family and asked Heavenly Father if he and Mom should be baptized. He felt warm and loved.
For the next few weeks, Braden read the scriptures and prayed every day. At first, he was always the one asking his parents if they would pray and read with him. But soon, they started asking him. When he and Dad fed the alligators, they would talk about the scriptures or what they learned at church. He and Mom would talk about the missionary lessons. Every day, Mom and Dad seemed a little happier.
One day during a lesson with the missionaries, Mom said the words Braden had been waiting for: “I want to be baptized.”
For the next few weeks, Braden felt like he was floating on clouds.
Finally, it was the day of Mom and Braden’s baptism. When Braden came up out of the water, he felt Heavenly Father’s love for him and his family. He gave Dad a big hug.
Dad held Braden close and whispered, “Thank you for being a good example and helping us. I love you.”

When I was younger, my family was not active in the Church. I remember very few instances when I went to Primary. I attended church on special occasions such as Christmas, Easter, baptisms, or blessings. Then, when I was about 13, my family moved from one end of town to the other. I attended the same school and had the same friends. The only difference now was our new ward. Because of this move, everything changed.
One girl in my new ward called me faithfully every week to invite me to church and Mutual. The meetinghouse was just through my backyard. Although I could have walked, she would offer me a ride. She fulfilled her calling as Beehive class president, and I started coming to church. At first, I came because I felt bad saying no. But it wasn’t long before I was coming on my own. I loved being in church, I loved the scriptures, and I loved the girls in our ward.
My freshman year in high school, however, I chose not to take seminary. I thought I didn’t have room in my schedule. I didn’t understand how important seminary was. My friends could say nothing but good about seminary, so I decided to adjust my schedule so that I could take it.
Seminary gave me a fresh outlook on the gospel. Through seminary my testimony of the scriptures developed. I read the entire New Testament and learned about the Atonement of Jesus Christ. My testimony grew at an overwhelming speed. Once again I felt the peace and love the gospel provided me, and I wanted my family to feel it as well.
I began to urge my family to come with me to sacrament meeting. I told them I wanted us to be an eternal family. To encourage them, I would wash everyone’s church clothes on Saturday night so that the excuse “I don’t have anything to wear” was no longer an option. I told them that I had a testimony of the gospel and that I wanted to share it with them. Most important, I prayed. I prayed that my family could know the Spirit the way I did. I wanted them to go to church so that we could someday be sealed in the temple.
It started slowly and took some time, but one warm August morning, my prayers were answered as we were sealed in the Portland Oregon Temple. I felt the Spirit stronger at that moment than ever before. I knew my family could be together forever. To this day I cannot thank my Heavenly Father enough for this wonderful blessing.
Now I am trying my best to be a good example and friend to everyone around me so that perhaps I can do for them what was done for me.