Gospel Story Finder

The smell of lasagna filled the kitchen as Chrissy’s family sat down at the table. Chrissy quietly bowed her head as her father gave the prayer. After the prayer, Mother began to serve the lasagna while Father asked what everyone had learned in church that day.
Greta and Roger, Chrissy’s older sister and brother, had learned about Emma Smith, the Prophet Joseph’s wife. They said that Jesus Christ called Emma an “elect lady.”
Chrissy asked, “What’s an elect lady?”
Father explained, “An elect lady is a woman who has been chosen by Heavenly Father and set apart to do a special work.”
Chrissy smiled because she liked Emma Smith and was happy that Jesus Christ had called her an elect lady. Chrissy knew that Emma had been a very courageous person.
When it was Chrissy’s turn to tell what she had learned in Primary, her smile disappeared and her eyes filled with tears. She sobbed, “I wish I only had to sing two songs on Sunday like my friend Jaimey does at her church. I don’t want to sing in Primary anymore.”
“You used to love singing,” Mother said. “What happened?”
“Eric said I sing too loud. He says singing is silly.”
Mother stood up and left the kitchen. In a moment, she came back carrying her Doctrine and Covenants. When she found what she was searching for in it, she asked Chrissy, “Did you know that Emma Smith was given her very own revelation from the Lord?” Chrissy shook her head. “Well,” Mother continued, “section 25 of the Doctrine and Covenants is Emma’s very own revelation, and in it Jesus Christ tells her some very special things.”
“Is that where he calls her an elect lady?”
“Yes, that’s right. It also talks about a calling Emma received from him. Did you know that he asked her to make the very first hymnbook for the Church? He knew she would be good at collecting hymns for the Saints to sing. After he asked her to make a hymnbook, the Lord told her something very special about singing. Would you like to hear what he said?”
At Chrissy’s nod, Mother read verse 12: “‘For my soul delighteth in the song of the heart; yea, the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads.’” Mother put the book down and asked everyone at the table, “Who knows what that verse means?”
Roger smiled. “That means Jesus Christ likes to hear us sing.”
“That’s right, Roger,” Father said. “It also means a song is like a prayer. We are always reverent during prayers because we are speaking with our Heavenly Father. Hymns are just like prayers, and that is why it is important to sing with all our hearts.”
Chrissy smiled as she thought about how Emma Smith had obeyed Jesus and made him happy. She thought of Eric and the mean things he had said. She decided that she would be like Emma and have the courage to do what is right. “I can’t wait for church next Sunday,” she announced. “I’m going to sing with all my heart, and I am going to make Jesus happy.”

I started skateboarding in the seventh grade with a group of my friends. Skateboarding was huge at my school in California. Most of the guys and some girls I knew skated on a regular basis.
I was a street skater. I didn’t like going to skate parks because of the people there. I was honestly scared of the kinds of people who showed up at the skate parks.
As my friends and I continued on our “skating careers,” we became fairly good. We were able to receive sponsorships from local skate shops, which meant we got free skateboards, shirts, pants, etc. It was awesome and a really fun sport to pursue.
But, as with anything else, there were temptations.
As we gained more confidence in our skills, my friends and I started traveling to different skate spots and parks, and we started meeting many new, different kinds of people. Unfortunately, the skaters we met all had one thing in common: smoking. Every skater smoked, it seemed. My freshman year, my friends gave in to the temptation and began smoking. Still, I didn’t think much of it, because I’d decided I would never do that.
As time went on, my relationship with my friends grew weaker. We didn’t have the same interests anymore. They used drugs or alcohol every weekend. I could see them throwing away their lives. I couldn’t believe how bad it had become.
One Saturday morning, one of them asked me, “How did you stay away from it, man? Why can’t I be like you? You have something special in your life.” It was then that I realized it was because I’d always held myself to the Church standards.
I owe my ability to resist smoking and the other temptations to the little things. Even as my life got very busy with school, family, Church, dating, sports, and friends, I stuck to the plain and simple things. I read my scriptures, said my prayers, went to Mutual, and went to church. I know that if I hadn’t given myself the spiritual nourishment I needed every day, then I may have given in to temptation.
I know we must do the little things in the gospel. They will give us the strength we need to stay strong and avoid temptation.

David Wichtermann, 17, a member of the Schwamendingen Ward, Zürich Switzerland Stake, knows what it’s like to be on the receiving end of priesthood service. “I was sick and in a lot of pain,” he says. “When my father gave me a blessing, the pain went away immediately. I look forward to the time when I can also use the priesthood to give blessings.” In the meantime David loves serving with the priesthood authority he already has. “I was able to help ordain my younger brother a deacon,” he says. “To participate in giving someone else the priesthood is a nice feeling.”

An experience I had in Guatemala observing some welfare missionaries had a great impact on me. When the welfare sisters walked onto the church grounds, the atmosphere became electric. Men, women, and children alike ran to them and embraced them. I was told the sisters had helped them through a recent epidemic. They had helped deliver some babies and were present when some members of the families had died. They had brought food for both the soul and the body.

Flavia, a sister from a poorer part of South America, found little opportunity and means for training and regular employment until help came through the PEF to receive training in operating computers. With the help of LDS Employment Services, she found work in a good company after completing her training. She reports: “Today I am responsible for the financial consulting area of one of the largest hospitals in Recife using [a sophisticated] computer system. I was among the crew that implemented this financial system in the company.”

The second example occurred more recently, in the United States.
I was in a hurry to make a close plane connection in a large city, so I was somewhat concerned at the large number of people and their slow movement down the crowded hall. I moved in and out as best I could without jostling others.
I noticed a fairly concentrated group up ahead. There seemed to be some reason for the slowdown since I could see open spaces farther ahead. As I came to the slowed group I could see a young lady slowly making her way forward with braces and canes. She was terribly crippled but doing the best she could. Most people, as they saw the situation, slowed down and patiently let her go at her own speed.
Just ahead of me, two big, strong, brown-skinned young men had just had their rapid pace slowed and could see the reason why. One turned to the other and in his native tongue said, “Ta’ahine faikehe eni ‘Oku totonu ke puna ia ki tu’a ka ta o!” which roughly interpreted is: “What a crazy girl. She ought to be thrown out so we could move!”
I knew of no Tongans living in this area of the United States. Hawaii, California, and Utah, yes, but here? Since I had served a mission in Tonga, I quickly replied to the two young men, “Oua na’a mo lau’i ae ta’ahine oku si’i heke, he taha, ko hono fo’ui,” which is more or less: “You shouldn’t speak bad about the poor girl. After all, it’s not her fault.”
They whirled around to see who on earth spoke to them. They had a combination of embarrassment and disbelief on their faces. All they saw was a typical American man in a business suit, carrying a briefcase, and scolding them with his eyes.
They just sort of disappeared down the next opening with mutterings of disbelief and dismay, “How did he know? Who was that? We better watch what we say, etc.”
I have often thought that the statistical chances of those circumstances occurring as they did—with the relatively small number of Tongans in the United States, the even smaller number in that large city, and the even smaller number of white people who could speak Tongan—were so small as to be almost nonexistent.

I remember one time when I was in the Marine Corps, stationed at Camp Pendleton in California. I left a decision to chance and almost found myself in a most unpleasant situation.
My buddies had been after me each weekend to go with them into the dance hall in Los Angeles to have a good time. Each weekend I was encouraged to go. After several weeks of turning them down, thinking that that was no place for me, I decided just once to leave it to chance and see how it would turn out.
I started with them towards this big dance hall in Los Angeles. We were riding the streetcar, and as it progressed from stop to stop, it was filling up with many young ladies. They were not the type I had ever been around before. They were extremely forward. I felt very uncomfortable around them. As they approached me, I adopted a tactic completely unknown to a marine. I retreated.
On the back row of the streetcar I found four young ladies whose appearance was entirely different. I asked them if they were going to the dance, and their reply was, “Yes, but not to the same one you are.” Then they said, “We are going to the Adams Ward to a Mormon dance. What do you know about the Mormon Church?” I was surprised, relieved, and willingly got off the streetcar with them, and had a most delightful evening at the Adams Ward. Have more confidence in yourself than allowing your decisions to happen just by chance.

Elder F. Burton Howard was born in Logan, Utah. His family later moved and lived in a number of different places in Utah, Arizona, and Wyoming. “I didn’t know then that moving around so much should have been a problem, so it wasn’t. My two grandmothers then lived in Malad, Idaho, and wherever we lived, we would make a long pilgrimage in the car to see them once a year.”
Elder Howard’s father worked for the Soil Conservation Service, and he would occasionally take his son on one of his work excursions into the desert. “One time when I was five years old, he took me out just so that I could see what a rattlesnake looked like,” Elder Howard said. “We found a big one, and that was very impressive to me.”
“My father was a very good basketball player. In a time when people weren’t as tall as they are now, he measured six feet four inches. In the 1930s he played what was called semipro ball. When I was small, Dad didn’t try to teach me to be a ball player. We never had a basketball standard or a ball; we couldn’t afford them, and neither could anybody else in our neighborhood. But we always had a softball and a baseball and played those sports a lot.
“My mother was an accomplished pianist and singer. During my childhood, she and my father sang in church, at funerals, and in the civic opera.
“I took piano and voice lessons, but I’m sure that I must have been a disappointment to my parents. I didn’t like practicing the piano, but I did learn to read music and sing. I used to play in a band, and I learned to play the piano well enough that I can still play all the hymns.”
Elder Howard is the oldest of three children; he has a younger brother and sister. “My brother and sister and I used to put off going to bed by asking Mother to read us a story. She had an old book of Book of Mormon stories that she’d read to us. Sometimes she’d slip in a story from the Bible. When I was young, I didn’t know the difference between the stories from the Bible and the Book of Mormon. I just knew that they were scripture stories and that I loved them all.
“I was a good reader, and we always had books. Dad made a special effort when we were quite young to buy an encyclopedia for our family. There was a time when I read almost everything that I could get my hands on, but there were still more books in our home than I could ever read.
“When I was in my first year of college at Logan, Utah, I bought an old car for a hundred dollars. I was eighteen and thought that I knew all about driving. It was Christmastime, and my parents were living on a ranch in Wyoming. I picked up my two grandmothers and took them to my parents’ home for Christmas. We had a grand time there. When it was time to return to school, the weather had changed and the roads were treacherous. That morning as we were ready to leave, we held a family prayer in the living room. My father prayed that we would have a safe journey. After we had loaded my car with suitcases, blankets, tuna fish sandwiches, and a thermos bottle full of Postum, Dad walked out to the car and said, ‘I want to talk to you.’ We went over and stood by the fence. ‘You have a very valuable cargo,’ he said, nodding at my grandmothers. ‘I want you to promise me that if the roads are bad and it’s snowing when you get down to Lander, you won’t go over South Pass. I want you to take the long way.’
“I promised him that I would. My parents kissed us good-bye, and we were on our way. We had nice weather until we got to Riverton; then it started to snow. By the time we got to Lander, it was snowing pretty hard. I remembered my promise, so when we came to the intersection where you turn to go up the mountain, I made a conscious turn to go the long way. I remember thinking then that it was going to take us five hours longer to get to Utah. I knew the road, and I was absolutely certain that I had made the right turn. As we drove along, we were joking and laughing, although the snow was getting thicker. Then I saw a sign that read, ‘Historic Old South Pass City,’ and I realized that I had somehow become confused in the snowstorm and had taken the wrong road! I thought, Dad will be angry with me! I don’t know how this happened—it wasn’t intentional. I had only two choices: I could keep on going, or I could turn around and go back. By this time, we were at the summit, so I decided that we might as well keep going and that I would apologize to Dad later. As we came down the mountain, the snow stopped and the roads were clear. We drove to Logan and then to Malad without any problems.
“On my way to school the next day I happened to see the front-page headline of a newspaper: WORST BLIZZARD OF THE YEAR STRANDS HUNDREDS IN CENTRAL WYOMING. I bought a paper, and it was full of stories about people who had been stranded, lost, or killed on the road that I had promised to take. I realized that the prayer our family had offered had been answered. I knew that the Lord had gotten us on the right road, and I realized how He had protected us. I was never the same after that.”
Elder Howard’s message to the children of the Church is this: “Be helpful in your home. Learn to do things well, and always do your best. Read more good books and watch less television. Be truthful and prayerful. Keep the commandments, follow the prophet, and always be proud that you are a Latter-day Saint.”

When Ivanessa Romero, 15, found herself starting to follow the example of friends in using bad language, she knew she needed to change. One day she told them, “From now on, whenever anybody says a bad word, I’m going to charge a penny.” After a few days, she had collected four dollars! Her friends said, “Iva is going to be a millionaire!” Using For the Strength of Youth, Ivanessa encouraged her friends to clean up their language. “They’re making progress,” she says. In the meantime, she learned something about example. “I realized my friends are looking for the light. Every little thing we say or do is an influence on others.”

I especially loved the peaceful feeling when I stepped inside the Sacred Grove. It is truly a place where God and Jesus Christ have been. The peace there is much like the peace that a temple or Church building brings. It is truly the Spirit.
In the Sacred Grove we split into small groups and went off with our leaders. They taught us about the First Vision, and we each found a quiet spot to pray. I felt a real peace when I prayed. I felt reconfirmation that the Church is true.

Happy Grandpa Day!
Hmm? You mean Grandpa’s birthday?
We know you miss him a lot, and we do too.
So today we want to celebrate him. We’ll do all his favorite things together!
Grandpa’s flowers are growing so well!
Stroganoff was Grandpa’s favorite meal. I made it for him every Sunday!
Mmmm.
Remember that GIANT sandcastle he helped us build? It was as big as me!
Thanks, kids. It was a great day.
We love you, Grandpa! And we know we will be with you again someday because of Jesus Christ.
You can share family memories on FamilySearch.org!

As a returned missionary, busy with a young family and my own company, I was called to be the president of a good-sized branch with many faithful and mature members. Did I feel prepared, trained, and educated to start serving? No! I had good counselors with whom I could discuss issues. But was their help enough? No!
Thinking back on that calling and on other callings, I realize that in addition to the Holy Ghost and the scriptures, what really helped me were the Church handbooks! They were a treasure of information—as a guide to my initial learning and as a valuable reference along the way.

“Oh no! Why did it have to snow?” five-year-old Carl said as he looked out the front window. He frowned as he watched the snowflakes fall. “Mom, does that mean our picnic at the park is canceled?”
“Until another day, I guess,” Mom said from the kitchen. “We can’t really have a picnic in the snow.”
“I wish the sun would come out and melt the snow,” Carl said.
Carl’s frown got bigger when his little brother came into the room holding Carl’s favorite toy car.
“That’s my car, Jared!” Carl said as he grabbed the toy.
Jared started to cry. Carl felt his stomach turn into a knot, and he frowned even more.
He walked into the kitchen, taking his car with him. “Not oatmeal again, Mom. Can’t we have pancakes instead?”
“Not today, Carl. Dad has to hurry or he’ll be late for work,” Mom said.
Carl sat down. His frown sank deeper and deeper.
“Where’s my happy lunch maker?” Dad asked as he walked into the room.
Carl looked up at Dad and frowned.
Dad started singing, “If you chance to meet a frown, do not let it stay. Quickly turn it upside down and smile that frown away.”*
All of a sudden, Carl felt Dad’s strong arms lift him off the chair and gently turn him upside down. Carl felt his frown melt away as he looked at Dad’s upside-down smiling face. He started smiling, and then laughed. Dad started laughing too, and then Mom and Jared did. Before long the whole family was laughing.
“Let’s turn the day right side up again. OK, everybody?” Dad sat Carl back down in the chair.
“OK, Dad,” Carl said.
Dad went to finish getting ready for work. Carl hurried and got an apple and carrots and put them in Dad’s lunch bag. Then he found another toy car in his room and gave it to Jared. He quickly set the table for breakfast and then sat down with a big smile on his face.
Just then Dad walked back into the kitchen. “Looks like everything is right side up again!” he said.
“Mom, can we have a picnic for lunch today inside the house?” Carl asked.
Mom smiled. “Sure. Just as long as we don’t have to eat upside down!”

Sir Tom Moore was 100 years old and recently passed away, but before he did, he decided to help frontline health workers during the COVID-19 pandemic. He walked 100 steps, using his walking frame, every day for 100 days in his garden. He raised 40 million pounds! He said: “One small soul like me won’t make much of a difference.” He proved himself wrong. His most famous quote is: “Tomorrow is gonna be a good day!”

One reluctant young man who sang bass came to his first rehearsal because of pressure from his friends and parents. He said as he sat in his place, “I don’t know why I’m doing this” and “You are very lucky that I came.” Later in the session I was giving him some individual help (which is not uncommon for many members of the choir—these young people are not musical geniuses, they are just determined to do their best) and suggested that we simplify a section for him. But he said no. “Let’s sing it the way it was written. It’s more fun that way.”

We have not found it necessary, incidentally, to use music that is in the current pop styles. We have successfully ranged from hymns to anthems, to carols and to chorales. When the youth choir performs, other youth sometimes provide the accompaniments.

Our instrumental music program has also brought exciting results. We have young people studying violin, viola, cello, trumpet, French horn, and trombone. All of these have had the opportunity to play in Church functions—in performances ranging from solos to twelve-piece ensembles. We have also given some of our youth instrumentalists the opportunity to play accompaniment to certain choral numbers and occasionally, do preludes or postludes at meetings.

As a sidelight to our instrumental program, we’ve established a ward music scholarship fund. This fund, which was created and is maintained by member donations, is used to provide music lessons or instruments for students who are unable to afford them.

All of our efforts have been well rewarded. At the time of this writing, we have thirty-four young people ages 9 through 17 studying music. Another eleven have studied at least one year, but are presently not involved in the program.

There are two main reasons for our success: First, a view of the ward music chairman as an educator and organizer, not a performer (a nonmusician could be just as effective): and second, an emphasis on the fun and warmth and unity that arise from practicing and performing together. We’re able to learn, serve, associate, and have a great time all at once! That’s an unbeatable combination.

Ours is not a big ward. We have only thirty-six active youth ages twelve to eighteen. But the excitement of those involved in the program has spread, and of those thirty-six, only about six have never studied music. Being involved in the ward music program has become a prestigious thing to do among the youth. And, as one sister said after a youth performance.,“I could just see all the younger children sitting there clearly thinking, ‘Someday I’m going to be up there too.’”

At 4:30 A.M. my alarm went off as usual. I reached over and shut it off as I do every morning. I sat up in the dark and asked myself why I do this to myself every morning. After I was done complaining about how stupid early-morning seminary was, I got up and got ready to go.
Just like every day, I arrived five minutes late and sat in a seat in the back row farthest from the teacher. It seemed that lately my testimony had been going down the tubes. Things had not been going right. My grades had been suffering. I thought that if I were living right then everything else in my life should be good too.
As I sat in the back, not listening to the lesson, I began to wonder if the Church was really true. The thought scared me. I was worried that the things I had been taught all my life were wrong. It made me afraid. Right there in class, I started praying mentally to my Father in Heaven for help. I was asking him for help in finding out if the Church was true or not.
By this time, I had totally tuned out of the lesson being taught. Finally seminary was over. My brother and I were getting in my car when I noticed a piece of paper on the windshield. I took it and saw that it was from another church down the street. At first I thought it was an advertisement. I opened the paper and in big bold letters at the top it said, “In Which Shall We Believe?” I began reading it. It was a list of scriptures and quotations from the Book of Mormon and other Church books and leaders that seemed to contradict each other.
We took the paper home to my parents. We went straight to them and told them we got this anti-Mormon flier on our windshield. They read through it. We talked for a few minutes about one of the statements, which Mom helped answer for me. Then my parents put the paper on the desk. We had to leave for school.
A couple of days later, I took the other church’s flier and started reading through it. I started looking up each quotation in the scriptures and in other books. The paper was wrong. I found that the statements did not contradict each other. The people who had prepared the flier had only taken part of the scripture or part of a quotation. This made me remember what one of my Primary teachers had told me. She said, “Read the scriptures as a whole and not a part.”
I knelt down beside my bed and prayed. I asked Heavenly Father if the Church was true and if what I was reading in the Book of Mormon was correct. I said amen and stayed on my knees for a few minutes and listened. When I got up, I was totally energetic. I felt so good and so happy. I knew by how I felt that it was true. That was my answer.
Since that time I have studied the scriptures more. In a funny way I was grateful to those people who had been trying to tear down the Church. I even wrote a letter to the other church thanking them for the flier. I told them they had really helped me a lot with my testimony. Because of them, I was motivated to find out for myself. I found out it was true.

A spirit of determination to do the right thing can come in earliest boyhood. At the cemetery, following a lovely funeral I attended, there stood near the open grave a small lad. His face was one of innocence, and his shining eyes showed the promise of a bright future. I said to him, “You, my boy, are going to make a great missionary. How old are you?”
He answered, “Ten.”
“In nine years we’re going to be looking for you to serve a mission,” I countered.
His response was immediate and told me something about him. He said, “Brother Monson, you won’t have to look for me ’cause I’ll be looking for you.” Young men, some lessons in life are learned from your parents, while others you learn in school or in church. There are, however, certain moments when you know our Heavenly Father is doing the teaching and you are His student. Let me share with you tonight such a lesson, effectively taught and everlastingly learned. The lesson pertains to swimming but goes far beyond that skill.
I learned to swim in the swift-running currents of the Provo River in beautiful Provo Canyon. The “old swimming hole” was in a deep portion of the river, formed by a large rock which had fallen into the river, I assume, when the workmen constructing the railroad were blasting through the canyon. The pool was dangerous, what with its depth of sixteen feet, its current, which moved swiftly against the large rock, and the sucking action of the whirlpools below the rock. It was not a place for a novice or the inexperienced swimmer.
One warm summer afternoon when I was about twelve or thirteen, I took a large, inflated inner tube from a tractor tire, slung it over my shoulder, and walked barefoot up the railroad track which followed the course of the river. I entered the water about a mile above the swimming hole, sat comfortably in the tube, and enjoyed a leisurely float down the river. The river held no fear for me, for I knew its secrets.
That day the Greek-speaking people in Utah held a reunion at Vivian Park in Provo Canyon, as they did every year. Native food, games, and dances were the order of the day. But some left the party to try swimming in the river. When they arrived at the swimming hole, it was deserted, for afternoon shadows were beginning to envelop it.
As my inflated tube bobbed up and down, I was about to enter the swiftest portion of the river just at the head of the swimming hole when I heard frantic cries, “Save her! Save her!” A young lady swimmer, accustomed to the still waters of a gymnasium swimming pool, had fallen from the rock into the treacherous whirlpools. None of the party could swim to save her. Suddenly I appeared on the potentially tragic scene. I saw the top of her head disappearing under the water for the third time, there to descend to a watery grave. I stretched forth my hand, grasped her hair, and lifted her over the side of the tube and into my arms. At the pool’s lower end, the water was slower as I paddled the tube, with my precious cargo, to her waiting relatives and friends. They threw their arms around the water-soaked girl and kissed her, crying, “Thank God! Thank God you are safe!” Then they hugged and kissed me. I was embarrassed and quickly returned to the tube and continued my float down to the Vivian Park bridge. The water was frigid, but I was not cold, for I was filled with a warm feeling. I realized that I had participated in the saving of a life. Heavenly Father had heard the cries, “Save her! Save her,” and permitted me, a deacon, to float by at precisely the time I was needed. That day I learned that the sweetest feeling in mortality is to realize that God, our Heavenly Father, knows each one of us and generously permits us to see and to share His divine power to save.

An acquaintance of mine grew up not far from here. By the time he was 14 years old, he was over six feet tall and very uncoordinated. He said, “One afternoon when I was in a 10th-grade seminary class, the Spirit really touched me. I came to know that the gospel literally was true. I made up my mind that day that I wanted to serve the Lord in any way I could.”
By his senior year, he was well over six feet tall and much more coordinated. Many universities offered him scholarships to play basketball. After his first year playing at a university, he told his coach that he would like to be excused for two years to go on a mission. The coach said, “If you leave, you can be sure of one thing: you will never again wear one of our basketball uniforms!” Many thought that his “mission” ought to be playing basketball. Even some family members, including his parents, tried to convince him not to serve a mission. But he was totally committed. He was willing to give everything to the Lord—the scholarship, the applause of the fans, and the excitement of playing. He knew what the Lord was counting on him to do. He was called, and he served an honorable mission.
When he returned two years later, he was even taller and about 35 pounds heavier. His coach decided to repent. He was permitted to wear one of those basketball uniforms again, and in his senior year, his team not only won the conference championship but went on to the finals in national competition.

“I was strong in my belief that the Church was not true,” says Rosenelle.
But at Marco’s urging, Rosenelle continued to meet with the missionaries, never committing to baptism, but never completely rejecting the idea either.
“I never gave up,” says Marco. “I knew it would happen.”
And it did. While reading the Book of Mormon one afternoon, Rosenelle read about Alma the Younger. Soon she was thinking about her own life and the direction it was taking. She prayed for a long time that day and started to have some feelings that she couldn’t quite describe.
“Marco told me it was the Spirit,” says Rosenelle. “I knew he was right. I became converted and was baptized. I haven’t ever regretted it.”

There was once a situation where some members in our ward were misjudging my friend and me. He and I were together a lot, serving and participating in activities, and rumors began that we were dating and doing something wrong.
The rumors also claimed that my family was being rude to my friend. Although we knew it wasn’t true, I was upset because he was always treated well in my home. I didn’t want to go to church and see or talk with the people who were spreading the false rumors.
However, I remembered that we go to church because of the gospel of Jesus Christ, not just because of the people there. People sometimes criticize others without knowing what’s really going on, and I knew this moment would pass and that I could forgive them. I shared these thoughts with my friend. By looking to Jesus Christ, we found peace.