Gospel Story Finder

When I was 17 years old, I faced heavy peer pressure at my high school. The friends that I did have didn’t share my values. My friends and I participated in many appropriate activities together like playing basketball or football. But they also drank alcohol and smoked—two activities I didn’t do with them.
One day a group of us was outside of our school studying for a test we would take later that day. With me were two of my closest friends, Juan and Francisco (names have been changed). At one point, someone got out lighters and cigarettes. I thought my friends had gotten bored with studying and had forgotten I was there. I learned I was wrong when they turned to me and said, “Now is the time for Hugo to learn how to smoke.”
Before I even had the chance to react, Juan and Francisco leapt toward me and took me by the arms, one on each side. They held my arms down as someone pressed a cigarette between my lips. My body immediately rejected this, and I spit the cigarette on the ground, far from me. Soon after, I felt the blow of a clenched fist squarely connect with my cheekbone. They threatened me, saying, “We’re going to light the cigarette again, and you’re going to learn to take the smoke. Don’t throw it on the ground. If you do, it’s not going to go well.”
In that moment, I knew I was in trouble. I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer asking for some type of help. As soon as I finished my prayer, our teacher’s car pulled up and parked near us. Our teacher got out of the car and asked us what we were doing. My friends released me. “We’re getting ready for the test,” they assured the teacher. We went into the school and took the test, and the situation ended.

When Peter Lauritzen of Eugene, Oregon, had to choose between attending early morning seminary or high school swim team practice, which met each morning at 6 A.M., he had to get up early to find a solution. In fact, he got up at 4:30 AM, each weekday so he could attend his own swim practice at 5 A.M. (with his coach’s approval), then make it to seminary. He was soon joined by three other seminary goers, Karen and Gary Orth, and DeWayne Colombe.
Karen and Peter were soon setting swim records for their high school, and doing well at state meets, too.
“I seem to be wider awake during the day than when I didn’t get up early,” said Pete. “It wasn’t that much of a decision really. Church comes first and then swimming.”

I recently participated in a religious service in a state prison. As the inmates shared their testimonies, I was moved by their remorse for the behavior that necessitated their incarceration. But more impressive were their expressions of love for the Savior and hope for His mercy and forgiveness as they prayed that their repentance would be acceptable to Him.
May I share these words from one in that meeting. In reading the Book of Mormon, he has discovered the healing balm and the compassion of a loving Savior.
I quote:
“Over the past month the Lord has given me so many blessings. He’s changed my heart. He’s taken away the anger, hatred, and fear. He’s replaced these with love and hope. He’s also taken away my foul mouth and my desire for tobacco. He’s helping me to overcome many fleshly weaknesses.
“I always believed I had a relationship with the Lord. I see now how self-serving that relationship was. When I read about Korihor it really hit me hard. I used a lot of the same justifications and rationalizations to create a ‘malleable god’ that I could shape to meet my wicked needs.
“I truly want to be baptized … a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I believe it is His Church and know my lifelong search is over.”

I held the paint pen in my hand and started painting the blank canvas in front of me. I was giving art therapy a try, and my therapist and I were working together to help me overcome some of the deep shame I was experiencing. I had picked the color blue to represent those feelings on the canvas.
When my therapist then asked me what I wanted to do with this shame, I immediately thought of Jesus Christ and His healing power. I picked up a yellow pen to represent His light and began to mix the blue and yellow together.
The two colors started to form a bright green—a color we see in spring after a long, cold winter. To me, this green represented me giving my pain, fear, and shame to the Savior and Him providing healing in return. The painting became a representation of who I was becoming, a new man in Christ (see 2 Corinthians 5:17).
It also led me to a new way of living and to feeling greater love from Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
I’ve had to look deep into my soul and explore the shame and pain in many different ways, including the painting exercise I mentioned earlier. I realized that the more willing I was to face these things, the more I was able to draw upon the Savior’s healing power in my life. I’ve continued to seek His influence through consistent prayer, scripture study, meditation, heartfelt conversations with loved ones and trusted friends, and therapy.

One warm evening during the past summer months Sister Ashton and I enjoyed a professional baseball game. During the early part of the competition our attention was diverted from the action by a late arriver. As he walked by, he spotted me and asked, “Who’s losing?” I responded with, “Neither one.” Following my answer, I noticed that he glanced at the right-field scoreboard, saw the game wasn’t tied, and walked on, undoubtedly wondering about me.
Seconds after he made his way to a distant seat, Sister Ashton said, “He doesn’t know you very well, does he?” “What makes you say that?” I replied. She responded with, “If he did, he would know you don’t believe anyone is losing. Some are ahead and some are behind, but no one is losing. Isn’t that right?” I smiled in approval with a warm feeling inside.

Lillie Anne is our older sister, but usually Jason and I feel like big brothers to her because she has Down’s syndrome, which sets her back a little.
Lillie Anne loves everybody, and all those who really know her love her. She loves Heavenly Father, too, and always tries to do what’s right and what she thinks will please Mom and Dad. So nobody was prepared for the problem we had with her.
It started because Lillie Anne likes animals so much. She likes to hug and kiss cats and dogs, despite our warnings about germs and the dangers of strange animals. We’ve never had a pet because Mom and Jason are allergic to many animals. So whenever Mom goes to the store, Lillie Anne stops and visits Mr. Osterloh and plays with his animals. Mr. Osterloh is Lillie Anne’s friend.
One day in June, Mr. Osterloh came to the door with an onion sack in his arms. When I answered the door, I thought he was bringing us some vegetables from his little garden. But he asked for Lillie Anne. After I called her to the door, he handed her the sack. She was grinning from ear to ear as she opened it. A little floppy-eared black rabbit was inside. She hugged it tight, her face beaming like it was Christmas. The rabbit just sat there in her arms, twitching its nose.
So that’s how we got Harry. Even though they’d agreed to having the rabbit, Mom and Jason sneezed quite a lot at first because Harry ran all around the house. Then Dad bought a little cage for Lillie Anne to keep Harry in when he was inside. She carried Harry around in it all the time. She took him outside to run and play on the grass, but he slept in his cage at night in her room. They were pretty much inseparable.
There was one problem. Not what you’d think. Not the allergies or the kissing (though she does kiss Harry’s nose). You’d never guess. Lillie Anne wouldn’t go to church without Harry! She flatly refused. And when Lillie Anne flatly refuses, there’s not a whole lot anyone can do about it.
Mom and Dad talked to her a lot about how we can’t take pets to church. They explained how it would disrupt the reverence. The home teachers came and talked to her about how animals belong at home. Jason and I pointed out that Harry might get hungry or thirsty, but she didn’t see why that was a big problem. She just wouldn’t go without him.
We had a family council and decided that we’d have to take turns staying home with her until we found a solution. For the next two Sundays, Lillie Anne looked pretty sad and miserable as the rest of us left for church. But she still wouldn’t go without Harry.
Then on Wednesday, I came home from soccer practice to find her sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. This is unusual, because Lillie Anne is still struggling with picture books. Her face was all lit up like she was looking at an angel or something.
“Michael!” she cried. “Look! Look at this boy!” I looked at the newspaper and saw a picture of a boy with very thin arms and legs holding the harness of a big black Labrador retriever. “Read it, Michael. Read it to me.”
I read the article to Lillie Anne. It was about a boy named Abram who didn’t have as many muscles as other people. He had a dog, Tacoma, that went everywhere with him. The dog helped him up if he fell, carried his books to school, and helped in many other ways. I thought Lillie Anne was just interested because she loves dogs, but I was wrong.
“A helper dog, a helper dog,” she kept saying. “Abram has a helper dog. The dog goes everywhere with him.”
Then she laid it on me. “Harry is a helper rabbit. He goes everywhere with me.”
Once she started on this, there was no getting it out of her head. Mom and Dad explained that the dog in the article had been trained for months and the boy had to leave home for a while and be trained along with the dog. Lillie Anne took a lot of interest in all this, but it didn’t change her mind. Jason pointed out that the dog wore a harness, and when he was working, people couldn’t pet him and play with him, unlike a rabbit.
“How is Harry a helper rabbit?” I asked. “How does he help you?”
She thought for a minute. “He makes me happy. He is my very own friend every minute.”
That Sunday Mom stayed home with Lillie Anne. As we left for church, my sister stood at the front gate with Harry draped over her arm. She watched us go with a sad and teary-eyed face. I couldn’t stand it. I had to do something. As we walked to church, I figured out a plan. After sacrament meeting, I found Bishop Lyman and asked if we could talk. When we went into his office and sat down, I was a little nervous.
“Michael,” he said, “what can I do for you?”
“Bishop, if someone in our ward were blind, would you let him bring a guide dog to church?”
“Well, of course. A guide dog can go everywhere.” He smiled at me in a puzzled way.
“Well, what if a person had a different problem,” I continued. “What if they couldn’t walk very well, and they had a helper dog. Could that dog come?”
He thought for a minute. “Oh, I’m sure it could. It would be trained to lie quietly during meetings.”
I squirmed a little. I felt silly comparing a little black rabbit to an intelligent, trained dog, but I could see Lillie Anne’s sad eyes in my mind, so I said it, anyway. “If someone like Lillie Anne has a rabbit that she thinks of as a helper rabbit, would it be all right if she brought it to church?”
Bishop Lyman smiled and said, “A helper rabbit. I’ve never heard of that.” Then he became serious, looked at me very kindly, and said, “Michael, I’m afraid a rabbit would hop around and distract people and make a mess on the floor.”
“Lillie Anne carries him around in a small cage, so that wouldn’t be a problem,” I said. “She hasn’t been coming to church because we told her Harry couldn’t come. But don’t you think people would get used to seeing him with her and then not take much notice after a while?”
“Hmmm.” Bishop Lyman thought for a few minutes. “Your mother and father have told me how Lillie Anne is refusing to come to church without him.” He thought some more. “Well, Michael, animals are important to us. The pioneers wouldn’t have made it across the plains without their animals. We’ll have to make sure the other children understand that Harry isn’t just a pet, that he helps Lillie Anne with her special circumstances. If we do that, we could try it.”
“Thank you!” I jumped to my feet. “It’ll work. You’ll see.”
The bishop smiled at me as I bolted out of his office and home as fast as I could to tell Lillie Anne.
The next Sunday, Lillie Anne was dressed and ready to go to church. She carried Harry in his cage as we walked to church. That really happy look was back on her face again—and on all our faces too.
At first, the kids wanted to pet Harry, but Lillie Anne explained that he was a helper rabbit and couldn’t play during churchtime. Then she told them that if they wanted to pet him, they could come over to the house sometime and play.
It wasn’t long until everyone accepted that, and now Harry sits quietly in his cage on the seat beside Lillie Anne through all the Church meetings every week. Lots of kids come to our house to see Lillie Anne and Harry, the helper rabbit. Harry loves the attention, and Lillie Anne is very happy. We’re all happy.

Illustrated by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
Mandy: You come to me with a sword and a spear and a shield.
Matt: But I’m going to knock your big ugly head off, Goliath!
Mandy: Oh no! That’s Mrs. Zeigler’s window!
Matt: Let’s get out of here!
Matt: No, that’s wrong. I’ve got to go tell her what I’ve done.
Mandy: We’ll both go. I was playing the game too.
Matt: Mrs. Zeigler, we were playing David and Goliath, and I broke your window.
Mandy: We both did.
Mrs. Zeigler: I know you did. And you were afraid of me. Your fear was as big as Goliath. But you stood up to that fear and told me the truth.
Mandy: We’ll pay for your window.
Mrs. Zeigler: Of course you will. I would expect no less from giant-slayers.

I recall tests to my own faith. I went to the 9th through 12th grades of school in Bloomington, Indiana, and the nonmember students constantly challenged my beliefs. At the time, my only defense was to do what Moses and Aaron did—draw closer to the Lord. I reasoned that God must exist since I couldn’t prove that he didn’t. I also assumed that he could and would communicate with me. With these ideas in mind, and with the faith that my parent’s testimony had to be based on something real, I prayed fervently. Out of that intense struggle, I received my own witness of God’s existence.

A while back a young woman from another state in the United States came to live with some of her relatives for a few weeks. On her first Sunday she came to church dressed in a simple, nice blouse and knee-length skirt set off with a light, button-up sweater. She wore hose and dress shoes, and her hair was combed simply but with care. Her overall appearance created an impression of youthful grace.
Unfortunately, she immediately felt out of place. It seemed like all the other young women her age or near her age were dressed in casual skirts, some rather distant from the knee; tight T-shirt–like tops that barely met the top of their skirts at the waist; no socks or stockings; and clunky sneakers or flip-flops.
One would have hoped that seeing the new girl, the other girls would have realized how inappropriate their manner of dress was for a chapel and for the Sabbath day and immediately changed for the better. Sad to say, however, they did not, and it was the visitor who, in order to fit in, adopted the fashion of her host ward.

When my grandson Jack was 10, he played on a competitive soccer team. Jack talked with his parents and decided to honor the Sabbath and not to play in games on Sundays. He worried that he wasn’t getting better because he was missing those games. Jack’s little brother Charles knew he was worried. One day Charles said the family prayer. He asked Heavenly Father to help Jack not be worried about soccer. Charles knew that a great way to help his brother was to pray for him. He had faith that his prayer would help Jack.
We need help in this life, and Heavenly Father wants to give us that help. He loves us. He will listen when we pray!

Sally had a problem. Her sister, Meg, a high school junior, recently placed second in the state gymnastic tournament. Meg looked like a butterfly as she flew through her routine. And fourth-grade, freckle-faced Timmy, Sally’s younger brother, could make a violin sing. His teacher said that Timmy had a great future.
Meg and Timmy had special talents, and Sally didn’t have any. That was her problem.
One day Sally overheard a new neighbor say, “I understand that you have two talented children—one a violinist, the other a gymnast. What does your other child do?”
“I couldn’t get along without Sally,” Mom replied. “She’s a great organizer and my responsible helper.”
Though no one saw her, Sally felt her face burn. So I’m only an organizer, she thought. That’s no special talent. Grandma would often say, “Sally will find herself one of these days. You’ll see.” But Sally didn’t want to wait to see.
However, now that Mom was working, Sally didn’t have much time to worry about being talented. Every day after school she did some of the housework and started dinner. Tim and Meg had either lessons or practice. Sometimes when Sally felt annoyed at them, Mom would say, “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” and some of the hurt would go away. Anyway, Meg and Timmy did have to do the dinner dishes.
At first, Sally had problems with her cooking. Underdone, lumpy potatoes and burned carrots were only two of several disasters. But Mom helped her learn a little each time she cooked dinner.
Now when Dad came home, he said, “What’s cookin’, good lookin’,” and gave Sally a hug. Then she felt loved and happy.
One day toward the end of May, Meg called Sally and Timmy to her room and said, “Father’s Day is next week. Let’s have a party for him. What can we give for a present?”
Sally suggested that they each do something special … maybe have a program. Timmy looked at Sally and asked, “What would you do?”
Sally slumped down and fussed with her fingernails. Then she had an idea—but she wouldn’t tell. She’d surprise everybody. So she shrugged and said, “I’ll think of something.”
“I’ll bet,” Timmy teased.
“Timmy, that’s not nice,” Meg told him. “Just be sure that your violin’s in tune.”
To change the subject, Sally suggested that they invite Grandpa and Grandma.
The next afternoon Sally hurried home and told Mom her plan and asked for her help. Mom thought that Sally’s idea was terrific, and Sally suggested that they get Mrs. Jensen, their next-door neighbor, to help.
For several days Sally spent extra time after school at Mrs. Jensen’s, working on her project. Then, on Father’s Day, she hurried home from church to work on dinner. Meg and Timmy had assumed that the special dinner was Sally’s part of the program, and she just let them think so. It would be fun to surprise them too.
Mom came home from choir practice in time to help with the last-minute preparations. “Dad will be so pleased,” she said.
Dad was indeed pleased as well as surprised. Everything tasted delicious.
When fruit gelatin with whipped cream was served for dessert, Timmy asked, puzzled, “No cake for the party?”
Dad said, “This gelatin is my favorite.”
Grandpa said, “Young lady, I didn’t know that you’d learned how to cook like this.”
“We’ll have to invite you over more often,” Dad told him.
After dinner Meg and Timmy presented their program. Since they had no gymnastic bars, Meg did a floor exercise to music played on the tape recorder.
As soon as Timmy started to play the first of his two violin solos, Sally slipped out and hurried next door. Then Mrs. Jensen walked her home so that Sally wouldn’t stumble with her precious project. Sally re-entered the living room while the family were noisily applauding Timmy’s performance. Sally nodded to Mom, who announced, “Now we would like you to come back into the dining room for Sally’s special treat for Dad and Grandpa.”
“You mean there’s more?” everyone asked.
Indeed there was more! In the middle of the table sat a five-layer cake. Thick chocolate frosting dripped down the sides. Ruffled chocolate edging circled three yellow frosting roses with green leaves on the cream-colored top. Chocolate frosting spelled out, “Happy Father’s Day.”
The family oohed and ahhed as they examined the masterpiece. Then everyone talked at once. Mother stood with her arm around Sally, who grinned so hard that her face hurt.
Timmy asked suspiciously, “Where’d you get that?”
Before Sally could answer, Mom said, “She made it.”
“Mrs. Jensen is a cake decorator,” Sally explained, “and she taught me how.”
Meg said, “Oh, Sally, teach me. Would you, please?”
Grandma said, “If you’re giving classes, may I come too? Your cake is beautiful.”
“Do we get to eat it,” Grandpa asked, “or is it just to look at?”
“I hope not,” Timmy said. “It looks yummy to me!”
Dad looked at Timmy. “I was hoping that you wouldn’t want any. That would leave more pieces for me and Grandpa.”
Meg sighed. “Sally, that’s the most beautiful cake I’ve ever seen!”
Sally, so happy that she couldn’t speak, handed Dad the cake knife.
He laid it on the table, cupped his hands around his mouth and called in a loud voice, “Look out, chefs of the world! Someone is coming to give you a run for your money.”
Grandma smiled and winked at Sally while taking a piece of cake.

There was a point in my life when I was so emotionally hurt that it affected every other aspect of my life. I couldn’t focus on classes or homework, my relationship with my roommates was strained, and I was constantly on the verge of tears. More than anything, I was having a hard time forgiving the person who had caused me hurt in the first place—and even madder that I was having a hard time forgiving.
Finally, I decided I was done being sad and angry. I no longer wanted to carry that burden. I pleaded with Heavenly Father to help me forgive. Before I knew it, the pain was bearable. It wasn’t gone, but I could bear it. Through this experience I learned that the Savior’s Atonement does not just allow us to repent; it also helps us heal. When I approached Heavenly Father with my burdens, in humility and with a sincere heart, He helped me carry the hurt, pain, and heartache I held.
Dani Lauricella, California, USA

Costs of the conference, traditionally held at the Naramata Center in the beautiful, orchard-filled Okanogan Valley, were slightly higher than the year before, and the young leaders worried about those who had greater distances to travel.

“We started thinking one night in our central committee meeting,” said Donn Mason, youth chairman, “about the conference and the gospel and everything, and what it all really means to each one of us. And we felt we wanted everyone to come to conference and to have a great experience. Then Kirk Leaberry brought up the fact that some of our youth have to travel 300 miles over dirt roads and then another 600 miles on pavement to come to conference. We knew it would be difficult for them to raise the registration fee. So we tried to find a way for every youth to be able to come.”

“I figured,” said Kirk, youth vice-chairman, “that sometime we’ve got to learn to live the law of consecration, and I thought now is a good time to start. You can’t just dive in on a law like that. You have to start gradually. Now seemed as good a time as any.”

The youth of the Kalowna and Vernon branches, the groups nearest the conference site who made up the planning committee, sent letters to the other branches in the mission. They said that they knew the cost of the conference was higher than before, but they had been able, through various fund-raising activities, to earn most of the money they needed for themselves, and they would work to earn as much extra as possible to help any of the distant branches meet their expenses.

The results of this spirit of service and sacrifice were electrifying. Branches that had earlier claimed they were unable to send their youth because of the cost wrote and said that not only would they raise enough for themselves, but they too would try to raise more than was needed. Even those branches that the committee thought would have the most difficulty wrote in to say that though they probably wouldn’t be able to help other branches, they would be able to raise enough for their own youth.

“The plan was accepted, and it spread fast,” said Donn. “I think it got around faster than the dates of the conference. When we went to a promotional meeting in one of the branches, the kids knew two things—they knew how much the conference was going to cost, and they knew that we were planning to raise extra money. It caught on everywhere.”

Finally all the plans and arrangements were made, and every youth who wished to was able to attend. From all over British Columbia they came—from Bella Coola, Kamloops, Cranbrook, Penticton, Prince Rupert, Kalowna, Vernon, Terrace, Kitimat. They brought brothers, sisters, and nonmember friends. One even brought her mother. In addition the entire mission presidency and their wives attended, the district president came, and many excited adult leaders were there to serve as chaperons. Even the Regional Representative was able to take part in the activities. All were welcomed; all were cared for; all fell within the “midst of the miracle of serving.”

Recently I felt impressed to reconnect with a family whom my companion and I had taught and baptized when I was a young missionary nearly 40 years ago in Brussels, Belgium. It had been quite some time since I had spoken to any of them.
Through the marvel of today’s technology, I looked up the mother of this family on social media. I was able to have a wonderful video chat with her. We reminisced about the sacred experiences we had shared years ago as her family learned about the restored gospel.
She was not in the best of health, and circumstances had separated her from her family. As we talked, I sensed the deep love that Heavenly Father and the Savior have for this good sister. I sensed her great eternal worth, even though she has somewhat drifted from the Church. I expressed my love for her and testified that God loved her and was mindful of her. Tears filled our eyes as we expressed our love for each other. We committed to communicate more often. I was so grateful an all-knowing and loving God had inspired me to reach out to my dear friend that day.
As promised, my dear Belgian friend and I spoke every Sunday for over four months. I invited her to download the Gospel Library app. The local branch president was made aware of her, and the full-time missionaries visited and gave a priesthood blessing. The next week, for the first time in over 30 years, she attended sacrament meeting. The last time we spoke, she was filled with joy to have reconnected with the body of the Church of Jesus Christ.
She also told me her oldest daughter was still involved in the Church. I immediately reached out to the daughter via video chat. She introduced me to each of her four beautiful children, then told me the full-time missionaries were coming to their home that night for dinner. What a blessing it was to see that she was still a faithful member of the Church!
As I visited with her, I understood, in some small measure, the message of this scripture: “And now, if your joy will be great with one soul that you have brought unto me into the kingdom of my Father, how great will be your joy if you should bring many souls unto me!” (Doctrine and Covenants 18:16).

My name is Matilda, and I am from Chile. Ever since moving to another country, other kids have made me notice that I am different from them. They have laughed at my curly hair, the color of my eyes, my eyebrows, and even the color of my skin. They have called me ugly and weird and even told me that I am poor because I look different than everyone else.
My mom has taught me to respond to bullying with a smile. She says many times that people who bully are sad or are living with something that hurts them. She has also taught me that it’s not my fault, and being different is something good and wonderful. God created different kinds of things in the world like different plants, places, and people. It doesn’t matter how we look as long as we have a good heart.
Since my mom taught me that, every time I get bullied, I think about it and talk to the person who is saying bad things. I try to stop the situation. Once I told a classmate that saying bad things about others can hurt a lot. I said that he doesn’t know what happens to others in their hearts when they hear bad things about themselves for being different. Since that day, that classmate hasn’t made fun of me anymore, and now we are friends.
I think the way my mom taught me to fight bullying is the best way. She taught me to fight bullying with love, as God would do it. I try to always ask myself, “What would Jesus Christ do in this situation?” This has helped me come closer to our Heavenly Father.

As a marriage and family therapist in Victoria, Canada, I counseled with a couple, Bob and Mary (names have been changed), who often had disagreements when they tried to make decisions together. During one meeting Bob said to me, “I try to preside and get things done, but when I come up with ideas of what we need to do, she won’t sustain the priesthood!”
From his comment I could tell that he did not fully understand what it means to preside. When couples marry, they form an equal partnership in which they strive to make decisions together in a spirit of unity.
I shared with this couple some principles about counseling together that I learned from the model of priesthood councils. Although councils in the home function somewhat differently than councils do in the Church, many of the same principles apply. As we strive to employ these principles in our homes, they can help us strengthen our marriages in a way that is pleasing to the Lord.

A young sister with diabetes became blind during her pregnancy with her second child. Her loss was devastating—and irreversible. After a time of anguish and questioning, she turned to the Lord for comfort and answers about what was expected of her in these new circumstances. With patience she learned that the “pleasing word of God … healeth the wounded soul” (Jacob 2:8) and that she could use her disability to help others. Her cheerful, open attitude makes it easy for others to talk with her about her blindness and her long struggle to accept and benefit from it.

When business meetings brought me to my childhood hometown of Mansfield, Massachusetts, I looked up the Web page of my old middle school. At the end of a list of current faculty members was Mrs. Christine Pfeil, my eighth-grade English teacher who was a truly influential person in my life.
When I was in eighth grade, difficulties at home left me angry and distracted from school responsibilities. Other teachers didn’t pay attention to my altered attitude and slipping grades, but Mrs. Pfeil took a personal interest. She would never accept less than my best. Often she would write on my assignments, “You can do better—try again.” Grudgingly, I would redo the assignment, thinking, “OK, you want something better? I’ll give you something better!” In her class, I felt intelligent and appreciated. When I left Qualters Middle School after eighth grade, I knew I could succeed scholastically because of Mrs. Pfeil’s belief in me.
As I looked at her name on the Web page that day, it suddenly seemed overwhelmingly important to tell her as soon as possible how she had influenced my life. I determined to find her, so at noon the next day, I excused myself from a business meeting and sped to Qualters.
I had just tried her locked classroom door when I saw Mrs. Pfeil walking down the hallway. “Carl Nelson!” she exclaimed. “I haven’t seen you in 25 years! What are you doing here?”
Impelled to deliver my message, I began abruptly. “I feel I need to tell you personally how important you were in my life. In eighth grade I was going through difficult times, but you expected my best. Precious few demanded that much from me then. As far as I can tell, your faith in me was the major reason I began trusting in my own abilities. I don’t know what my life would have been like without a teacher like you.”
As I spoke, Mrs. Pfeil’s eyes became wet. “I have to tell you a story,” she said. “I have always wanted to be a writer, even though I felt God wanted me to teach. Last night I was feeling hurt that I had never received any appreciation for my work. I told God that unless I received some thanks the very next day, I was going to retire from teaching and work on my writing. And now here you come after all this time to thank me on this particular day—this blessing is almost too much!”
Mrs. Pfeil and I were unable to talk longer. Her students began arriving, and I left, humbled that Heavenly Father let me share in helping one of His children. Reflecting upon my brief experience with Mrs. Pfeil, I remained impressed that no matter who we are or what church we belong to, our loving Father works in our lives to answer our prayers.

After a few weeks of hard proselyting, my patience was wearing thin and I began to get angry at very small things. During a particularly discouraging day, I briefly scanned the pages of the March 1992 issue of the New Era. My eyes were drawn to the article “Flunked.” After finishing the story, I felt much better. I had been touched by the Spirit and the anger I was feeling was gone. That article has become a source of personal strength for me as I continue to share the gospel daily.
Elder Kevin HillChile Vina del Mar Mission

At our multistake youth conference, we all received a Book of Mormon and were invited to give it to someone. I wanted to give mine to my favorite pop singer.
When I found out he was giving a concert in my city, I thought this would be the perfect opportunity. Each of his concerts has a random drawing that selects 15 fans to go backstage and meet him. It’s nearly impossible to be selected, but I entered anyway.
A few weeks before the concert, I wrote my testimony in a Book of Mormon and prayed. I explained to Heavenly Father that the odds were against me and that I needed His help.
As soon as I said “amen,” my cell phone rang with a call from the singer’s office. I had been selected!
Backstage on the day of the concert, I presented the singer with the book. He opened it and read my testimony: “I spent a lot of time thinking of a valuable, useful present for you. I realized that I needed to give you something that was valuable because of what it contained and not because of its price. This is the Book of Mormon; it is the most precious thing I have. It will be for you too if you read it.”
He gave me a hug and said he would read it. I couldn’t hold back my tears!