Gospel Story Finder

The Lord’s way of caring for the needy provides another opportunity for parents to bless their children. I saw it in a chapel one Sunday. A small child handed the bishop his family’s donation envelope as he entered the chapel before the sacrament meeting.
I knew the family and the boy. The family had just learned of someone in the ward in need. The boy’s father had said something like this to the child as he placed a more generous fast offering than usual in the envelope: “We fasted today and prayed for those in need. Please give this envelope to the bishop for us. I know that he will give it to help those with greater needs than ours.”
Instead of any hunger pangs on that Sunday, the boy will remember the day with a warm glow. I could tell from his smile and the way he held the envelope so tightly that he felt the great trust of his father to carry the family offering for the poor. He will remember that day when he is a deacon and perhaps forever.

Aïolah and Evaline V.
Aïolah V. of France is a 12-year-old Beehive. So is her sister Evaline, who turns 13 in a month. “I’m glad my sister is here to help me move from Primary into Young Women,” Aïolah says.
One of their favorite things is Personal Progress, but when they read about one goal, they laughed. “Learn to play a musical instrument,” it said.
“We’ve been playing for years,” Evaline says. But then they talked with their mother. She helped them to see that they could use music to fulfill another goal: service.
Aïolah and Evaline are now preparing to perform in sacrament meetings and talent nights, give concerts for children and seniors, and accompany missionaries as they sing.
“Personal Progress is nice,” Evaline says. “It lets you do what you love and do new things too.”

“Sister Sylvia Gaitan was in a four-car freeway accident last week,” explained my Young Men president. “She’s in the Westlake Medical Center, and we need someone to take her the sacrament.”
“Westlake?!” I thought to myself. That was at least a 20-minute drive.
I pleaded for volunteers. One hand went up. “I don’t have a car,” said Russell, “but I’ll go with someone.”
On the way to Westlake, I said to Russell, “Next week we’ll make someone else take this time-consuming drive.”
We arrived at the hospital and wasted a few minutes getting lost. When we finally found Sister Gaitan’s room, my heart fell right into my stomach. Not even five feet tall, she seemed even smaller lying in a giant hospital bed surrounded by medical equipment. Looking at her I immediately felt guilty for having complained.
“How are you feeling, Sister Gaitan?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m all right,” she said, “but I’ll be much better after they perform those two surgeries they keep telling me I need.” I was amazed by how upbeat she was.
Russell and I blessed the small piece of bread we had brought and then blessed the water in her hospital drinking cup. She was so grateful to us for coming. I smiled and said, “We’re just doing our priesthood duty.”
I decided that I would bring the sacrament to her the next week, too. I took Sister Gaitan the sacrament every week until she recovered. Seeing her always made my day brighter.
The brightest day was when I saw her back at church for the first time. I was happy, not because I no longer had to drive to the hospital each week but because she was finally able to take the sacrament with her ward family.
I’m grateful I was able to take Sister Gaitan the sacrament, but I’m even more grateful that she taught me to fulfill my priesthood duties with a smile and a happy attitude.

Photograph of hand from Getty Images
As a PhD student in Australia, I often traveled from my residence to nearby restaurants in the Melbourne central business district. During one of my shuttles, I saw on the ground a card with a portrait of Jesus Christ. A voice inside me insisted that I pick it up.
I obeyed and carefully perused the card. Then I looked for a better place to leave the small portrait of the Savior but found none. Consequently, I took the card home and placed it on my bookshelf.
Three days later, I met two missionaries while on my way to lunch. We set an appointment for them to teach me, and they handed me a card similar to the one I had found. When I returned home, I compared the two cards. They were both from the missionaries’ church.
When the missionaries visited me, they bore their testimonies about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Initially, I was not comfortable with their testimony. To me, it seemed blasphemous to say that the Church of Jesus Christ had been restored and was the only true church on earth, but two factors kept my interest.
First, I read from the scriptures that “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Psalm 111:10). I needed wisdom and would like to fear the Lord so that I would get wisdom. I reasoned that I would not fear the Lord without knowing Him. Hence, what the missionaries were teaching me was important because I needed knowledge about the Lord.
Second, I concluded that the Lord had directed me to find the card I had picked up. Throughout the years I stayed in Melbourne, I never saw a similar card on the ground. I concluded that the cards were not thrown away carelessly.
As I took the missionary lessons, I became happier and overwhelmed with the knowledge I got from the new teaching. Soon, I was baptized. I’m now sealed to my wife and children for time and eternity, and today I have the same testimony the missionaries bore to me: The Church of Jesus Christ has been restored through the Prophet Joseph Smith. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the only true church on earth and is guided by a living prophet.

Illustrations by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
Matt: My snowman will be twice as big as yours!
Mandy: In your dreams!
Matt: OK, we’re even so far. But my snowman’s tummy will dwarf yours.
Mandy: Keep dreaming!
Matt: Uh, Mandy? I can’t seem to lift mine.
Mandy: I can’t lift mine either.
Matt: I guess maybe we’ll have to work together.
Mandy: Looks that way.
Matt and Mandy: Heave ho!
Matt: It’s just like I told you, Mandy—It’s better to work together than try to beat each other.
Mandy: You are so wise.

Moving? Tomorrow? It can’t be time already, thought eleven-year-old Sarah as she folded the last of her mother’s dish towels and put them into a barrel. The family had been planning for the past few weeks to leave Kirtland, Ohio, for Missouri with some of the other Saints, but they didn’t know exactly what day they would leave. This morning Sarah’s father had come into the kitchen and told his family that tomorrow was moving day.
Sarah wasn’t really surprised that they had to move. For the past year people who were against the Church and its members had caused the Saints a lot of problems. How vividly she remembered the day when her family had been sitting in the Kirtland Temple for their Sunday meeting and several ruffians had come into the room carrying knives and guns. Brandishing their weapons and shouting, they had disrupted the services. Sarah could still remember how frightened she had been that day. Joseph Smith’s father had been conducting the meeting. He’d sent for the police, and the intruders had been ushered out of the temple. After that, the meeting had gone on without interruption.
Just a month ago, when spring was in its glory throughout the Kirtland area, Father had told Sarah that she must do all that she could to help Mother get ready to move. However, Sarah had tried to convince herself that they wouldn’t have to do it. How can I leave Kirtland? she’d wondered. We’ve never lived anywhere else.
Kirtland was the place where Sarah and her brother John and sister, Laura, had all been born. Another brother, two years younger than Sarah, had even been buried in Kirtland shortly after he was born. It was the place where Sarah and her parents had been taught and baptized by Brother Sidney Rigdon. Brother Rigdon had been their minister when they had all belonged to the Campbellite Church, and the whole family had loved him. They had been glad to read the Book of Mormon when he had brought it to their home. It was only right that Brother Rigdon had baptized them when they were sure that the gospel was true.
Sarah had been excited about turning twelve in the fall and going with her best friend, Mary, to Sister Eliza Snow’s school for girls. But Sister Snow’s family and Mary’s family had already moved to Missouri, so there would be no school. She had hoped that someone else would teach the school once things settled down a little. But things hadn’t settled down.
The rest of that day and night went quickly. Suddenly it was daybreak and time to leave their home. When the wagon was packed, the whole family climbed aboard, with Father sitting on the front seat to drive the oxen he had bought only last week. John, looking very big for a seven-year-old, sat next to Father. Five-year-old Laura and Sarah sat in the back of the wagon with Mother. They all watched Kirtland grow smaller as they joined the other wagons leaving the city.
The first few weeks of the trip seemed especially long because of the slow pace of the oxen. John and Laura had been excited about the trek at first, but even they calmed down as time passed. One night Sarah was awakened by the low voice of her father. There was something in the sound of his voice that frightened her. She crawled out from under her blanket and drew back the wagon flap.
The worried look on Father’s face eased a little when he saw her. “Sarah, I need your help. Your mother has a high fever. Can you go to the river and fill the bucket with some water?”
Sarah was afraid. Mother had never been sick! She had always been the one to take care of others when they were ill. Quickly Sarah filled the bucket and returned to the wagon. All night long she and Father took turns wiping her mother’s face with damp cloths to keep her cool. Mother was too sick to say a word, and this really upset Sarah. By morning Sarah realized that she must take care of her brother and sister and fix whatever breakfast she could put together. She knew that she must remain calm so that John and Laura would not be frightened by Mother’s illness. Quietly she woke the children and told them what had happened.
“Will you go and get some small pieces of wood to start the fire, Laura?” she asked. “You’re really good at finding wood.” Turning to her little brother, she said, “John, if you can get some larger pieces, we can build a fire together.”
John crawled out from under his blanket and began to work without complaining. Sarah was amazed at how helpful her sister and brother were. They seemed to know exactly what to do.
Sarah cooked breakfast and quickly cleaned everything up. Mother didn’t seem much better, so Sarah stayed in the back of the wagon and put soothing, damp cloths on her mother’s face. Father had been able to fix a lid on a bucket so that the water didn’t spill with the wagon’s movement. Because the children helped so much, the family was able to keep up with the company.
Sarah spent every spare minute planning and cooking meals, keeping their clothes washed, and tending Mother. Laura and John gathered wood each night for cooking, and they helped in any other way they could. John found some empty wooden spools, and he and Laura were busy making a surprise for the family.
One morning Sarah awoke and realized that her family had been gone from Kirtland for six weeks! Mother was almost well, but she still let the children take care of things together. How proud she was of Sarah’s cooking and John and Laura’s fires.
“Do you know what’s happened to us, Sarah?” Mother said softly. “With the Lord’s help, we are relying on each other now. This is what we’re supposed to do. If I hadn’t been sick, you children would never have been able to show your father and me the many things you can do for our family.”
Before Sarah could reply, John and Laura climbed into the wagon holding something under a cloth. Father climbed in behind them and said, “I don’t know what these two are up to, but they made me stop everything to come and see what they’ve made.”
The children uncovered a checkerboard made from a weathered board, and a set of tiny checkers made from the spools John had found. Laura beamed and said, “John rubbed charcoal on some spools to make the black pieces, and I colored the other ones with some berries we found along the way. We thought everyone could take turns playing checkers.”
Sarah felt tears come to her eyes. She would miss Kirtland and its happy memories, but she was taking with her the best part of those memories—her family.

“One of many little romances—the night before we left, my true lover, Henry Ridgley, came to bid me farewell, and under our trysting tree (a big tree close by) we each vowed eternal constancy—for four years at least. At the end of that time he would be of age, and then he would come to claim me for his own, even if I was at the end of the earth. Well, he did come to see me, but it was forty years after instead of four years. He had a wife and three children. I had a husband and was the mother of thirteen children. …”

He has to laugh a little when he recalls one of his camping experiences as Scoutmaster of the Spring Lake (Utah) Troop. “We enjoyed a very nice overnight camp by the shores of Utah Lake. Our transportation on that occasion was a wagon and two horses provided by a local farmer. Not being a farmer myself, I left the details to the assistant Scoutmaster. The result was fine for the Scouts, but not so good for the horses—we forgot to provide any hay for them!”

This is especially true for parents. When my wife and I were expecting our first child, I called my uncle for advice. He is the one who introduced me to the Church, and I love him dearly.

“What can I do?” I asked. “How can I teach my children to help them grow and be strong?”

I was struck by what my uncle said.

“Don’t worry about them,” he said. “It’s about you. They will be with you and see you all the time. Try your best to obey the commandments. Be honest and worthy in all you do, and they will follow your example.”

Deciding to Be Baptized
Kerry Johnson, 16, Farragut Ward
I remember when I was deciding whether or not to be baptized. One day, I got up really early. It was a Saturday. I went out into this field we lived by. The sun was just coming up. I was lying down, really praying a lot about if the Church was true or not. I lay there awhile just thinking. I didn’t know whether to ask for a sign or what, but I started getting a good feeling. When I opened my eyes, all these little butterflies were flying up from the grass. It seemed to fit how I felt. I knew in that moment that the Church was true.

Photograph by German Sittner
Gabriel J., 17, from Curitiba, Brazil, is a convert to the Church. The first time he went to church, he thought it was strange. But he soon got used to it, thanks in part to the friendly members in his ward, and he was eventually baptized.
When he talked with a returned missionary in his ward, Gabriel started thinking about serving a mission. “I got home and started kind of crying,” he says. “I didn’t know why. But I knelt and asked if I should serve a mission. At that very moment, I had a feeling of peace, and I received the answer that I really should serve a mission.”
Many of his goals are focused on preparing to serve a mission, both spiritually and physically. They include graduating from seminary, running, and developing better nutrition. He says he hopes his physical goal will prepare him to not get tired easily and to walk for longer amounts of time.
Gabriel notices the changes in himself since he joined the Church. “When I became a member of the Church, I was able, with the help of my leaders, to know what I wanted for my life, and that has changed a lot. Now I have a goal in my life, and I’m studying a lot too.”

One day while carefully crawling over the frosty cliffs in search of random fossil bones, I came upon a spot where a few fossil mud-balls and some interesting bone scraps seemed to suggest it might be an area worth prying into. Our general collecting technique was to find a single bone exposed on the surface, harden it with shellac, and then chisel it free. In this one spot, however, I felt an urge to dig and see what might be below the surface. I pried several shoe-box-size sections of sandstone free with my ice ax, and kneeling down on the cold, dry sand, I split them apart for examination. I chanced to split one fragment in a manner that exposed a curious triangular bone about two inches long displaying a single tooth. I studied it for a moment and, unable to identify it, wrapped it carefully for Dr. Colbert to examine back in camp. I spent several hours on this small cliff. In so doing, I forgot to watch my face and as a consequence received a nasty frostbite on my right cheek and nose. The skin in these areas formed hard, cold, white patches.
That evening while I was eating and undergoing a painful thawing, Dr. Colbert came dashing into the mess hut and cried, “You’ve got Lystrosaurus!” I looked on my plate, then at my sleeve, and felt the back of my head, but failed to comprehend his excitement. “Lystrosaurus,” he repeated. “You’ve got Lystrosaurus!”
I sat there blinking dumbly and twitching my red nose. Finally I began to comprehend that he was referring to my day’s collection and not to my physical condition, and also that Lystrosaurus was the scientific name of a mammal-like reptile found abundantly in Africa. It seems I had found the right maxilla (upper jawbone) of one of these curious creatures, which have but two teeth in their entire skull. This unusual characteristic makes a bone from this animal a very important diagnostic fossil. Their presence on Coalsack Bluff as well as in Africa and India meant but one thing; these continents had once been joined as part of Gondwanaland!
My frostbite was still my most impressive feeling at that moment, but I later realized I had discovered what is said to be the single most important object that has yet been found relating to earth history, for it was first proof that there was once a great supercontinent on earth. Future exploration will naturally follow with possible discovery of complete fossil animal skeletons, but they will only be additional information, for the vital moment of truth has passed. The first discovery has been made.
It has now been one year since that discovery, and several workers have now published aggressive articles on continental drift. Although some of them ignore fossil vertebrates, they proceed with a confident vigor made possible only by a frozen nose and the revelation of a little one-toothed jawbone on Coalsack Bluff.

Joseph F. Smith was the first president of the Church to visit Europe. When John Ruothoff, a young boy with failing eyesight, discovered that President Smith would be visiting in Holland, he said to his mother, “The Prophet has the most power of any missionary on earth. If you will take me with you to the meeting and he will look into my eyes, I believe they will be healed.”
After the meeting President Smith lifted John’s bandages, looked into his eyes, blessed him, and promised him that he would see again. Later at home when the bandages were removed the boy cried out, “Mama, my eyes are well; I cannot feel any more pain. I can see fine now, and far too.”

When the Eat Healthy and Be Active programme was offered at a nearby stake, Sister Sinafoailuga Rifat Taatiti Leiataua was already concerned about health. She and some friends from her Apia Samoa Pesega 6th Ward decided to sign up to see if this class could help them make important lifestyle changes.
“I wanted to learn more about healthy food and to lose weight,” Sinafoailuga says, “and I also wanted to set a good example for my husband and family.”
The Eat Healthy and Be Active course was created by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in response to a growing problem with diabetes and other noncommunicable diseases in the Pacific. The course is based on medical science around health and nutrition, as well as the Church’s guidelines for physical and spiritual wellbeing, which is known as the Word of Wisdom. It is delivered through our network of self-reliance programmes and has been created specifically for members in the Pacific Area.
For 12 weeks, Sinafoailuga’s class had formal lessons once a week, and three times each week they met for exercise sessions. They favoured a combination of Tabata—a high intensity interval training workout—and Zumba. Sinafoailuga loved it so much that she showed up to every exercise session and would often stay for extra workouts.
But that’s not all. This group issued challenges to each other throughout their programme. For example, one challenge was to eat no meat for six weeks. Others included drinking lemon and ginger water every morning, eating only one serving at each meal, and eating a big breakfast and a small dinner. Sinafoailuga has been especially committed to drinking water and reducing her intake of meat.
“I learned how to make healthy eating part of my lifestyle,” she says. “I manage to eat healthy and drink a lot of water—no more fizzy drinks—and also when I cook dinner for my family, I always have to add vegetables because I want my family to eat the same [healthy] food I eat.”
Something new that Sinafoailuga learned from this class was how to manage stress. A healthy diet plus a lot of exercise definitely helps, but she also learned that in stressful situations, she can just, “sit down and think twice [about things]. Also, pray to God for help.”
Sinafoailuga successfully finished her Eat Healthy and Be Active class at the end of 2020, and she is still reaping the benefits of everything she has learned.
“Now I can fit [into] most of my clothes and also I can do my chores for the whole day,” she says. “But before, I couldn’t even finish one or two chores a day, because I was too lazy to walk and even bending down was difficult.”
She is still working with her family—her husband, her mother and two nephews—encouraging them follow her example of a healthier and more active lifestyle. She hopes everyone who has the opportunity will sign up for the Eat Healthy and Be Active programme.
“This class has been a great blessing for me,” she says. “It’s helped me to put health and well-being first for me and my family, and it’s shown me just how much our Heavenly Father loves us.”

Six-year-old Charlotte Clark left Nauvoo, Illinois, with her family during the winter of 1846. They spent the following winter at Winter Quarters and continued west in the spring of 1847.
The ground over which they walked was very rough. Charlotte was an active girl who never seemed to tire of exploring, and she soon wore out her only pair of shoes. After that, the rocks, brambles, and burning sand made her tender feet even more tender. Her mother did all she could to treat her daughter’s injured feet, but it didn’t help much.
Charlotte’s solution was to kneel every night by her blankets and ask Heavenly Father for a pair of shoes. The fact that there was no place to get shoes in the wilderness never occurred to her. She knew only that she needed shoes and that Heavenly Father answered prayers.
One day while walking beside the wagon, Charlotte and her sister, Mary Ann, saw some berry bushes growing along the creek some distance from the trail. They asked their mother if they could go over and pick some berries. It was unusual for their mother to consent, due to the dangers of the trail, but the girls’ eagerness and the thought of fresh fruit for supper persuaded her to say yes. She told them to fill their pail as quickly as possible and to hurry back to the wagon.
The two little girls were eagerly picking berries and laughing over their good fortune, when suddenly Charlotte cried out, “Oh, He sent them! I knew He would if I only asked Him! Come and look!” When Mary Ann came running, she found Charlotte kneeling on the ground, clutching a pair of sturdy shoes.
In between laughing and crying, Charlotte sat on the ground and pulled on one of the shoes. She turned to her sister and said, “Look, Mary Ann, Heavenly Father knows my size.” She pulled the other shoe on and jumped to her feet. Then she grabbed the nearly-empty pail in one hand and her sister’s arm in the other. “Come on. Let’s go show Mother and Father!”
When Charlotte’s mother saw her girls running toward the wagons at breakneck speed, she feared something terrible had happened. She ran to meet them.
Charlotte’s first words were, “Mother, He sent them to me, and they fit perfectly!”
Her mother was puzzled. “Who sent you what, dear? How did you get your berries so soon?”
“No, Mother, not berries—my shoes. See, Heavenly Father sent me the shoes I asked for!”
By this time her father had arrived. Charlotte ran to him. “See, Father, my shoes! Heavenly Father put them over there by that bush for me, and they’re just my size! Oh, isn’t He just wonderful to us!”
Charlotte’s father was as perplexed as her mother. He looked at the shoes, then at his happy daughter, then at his wife. Picking Charlotte up, he walked along beside the wagon with her. “Now,” he said, “tell me what this is all about.”
“Well, Father, I asked Heavenly Father to send me a pair of shoes. You said that He always sends us things we really need, and I really need a pair of shoes, so I asked Him to send them to me. Here they are, and they fit!”
“Where did you find the shoes, dear?”
“Back by those bushes. Mother said that Mary Ann and I could pick some berries, and these shoes were under a bush. I know they’re mine because they just fit!”
Tears came to her father’s eyes. “Heavenly Father wants you to have a pair of shoes, dear, and so do I, more than you know. But these shoes belong to someone. Someone put them by that bush, and when she goes back for them, they won’t be there. We couldn’t take someone else’s shoes, now, could we, dear? That would be stealing.”
No one was more opposed to stealing than Charlotte, but she was undismayed. “It wouldn’t be stealing if Heavenly Father put them there for me, and I know that He did.”
Finally a solution came to her father. “If those shoes belonged to someone in a wagon train that has already gone by, you may have them. But if they belong to someone in our wagon train, we must return them. I’ll tell you what—we’ll tie them here on the end of our wagon. Tonight when we camp, they’ll be on the inside of the circle where everyone can see them. We’ll leave them there a week, and if nobody claims them, you may have them.”
Charlotte reluctantly took off the shoes, and her father tied them to the wagon. The week passed slowly, and she hardly took her eyes from them. Every night in her prayers, she asked Heavenly Father to watch over them.
At the end of the week, no one had claimed them. Father untied the shoes and gave them to her. She wore them not only on the journey to the Salt Lake Valley, but for many months after they had established their new home.

I skipped up the sidewalk to my home, overflowing with excitement. My friend had invited me to spend the weekend at a cabin.
I came bursting through the front door and announced my plans to my mother.
“Don’t you have baptisms for the dead tomorrow?” she said.
I thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, but I can do it another time.”
She looked at me with concern. “You went in for your recommend interview and everything. You said you would go.”
My thoughts of a weekend at a cabin began to slowly fade away. The cabin sounded like so much fun. “Well, I already told my friends I would go with them.”
“You also told your Young Women leader that you would do baptisms. You made that promise first,” my mother reminded me.
“I don’t care! I’m not going!” I snapped back.
She looked on me with disappointment and then walked away.
“Great!” I said to myself, feeling even more guilty. Finally I went into the living room by myself, knelt down, and asked Heavenly Father to help me make the right decision.
When I finished, I just knelt there for a moment. I paid attention to my thoughts. They were directed now toward being in the temple and getting baptized for people who had been waiting for so long. I stood and walked into the kitchen. As I walked past the fridge, I saw a quote from President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008):
“If we are a temple-going people, we will be a better people, we will be better fathers and husbands, we will be better wives and mothers. I know your lives are busy. I know that you have much to do. But I make you a promise that if you will go to the house of the Lord, you will be blessed, life will be better for you” (“Excerpts from Recent Addresses of President Gordon B. Hinckley,” Ensign, July 1997, 73).
I stood there transfixed as I read the quote over and over again. My prayers had been answered. I went back into my living room and knelt a second time, only this time I thanked my Heavenly Father for answering my prayer and for teaching me a lesson about sacrifice.
The next day when I went to the temple, I remember feeling so good. I knew I had made the right decision, thanks to Heavenly Father. I know if we truly want to do what is right, sacrifice is a blessing rather than a setback.

Isabel Faye Hills was excited for a very special birthday. On the day she turned eight, she was baptized and confirmed! At home in Goffstown, New Hampshire, Isabel’s family says she is a shining example of staying on the right track with hard work and a great laugh.
Isabel helped plan her baptism service, and she made the program herself. She was baptized by her dad and confirmed by her Grandpap Conklin.

Three months after we returned from our missions, a man killed my twin brother. My father and another brother were badly wounded in the same attack. We knew who did it, but he was never arrested. I learned what it was like to feel hate and want revenge. I even had dreams of hurting the man who had done this terrible thing. But the Lord had made clear what He expected of me:
“Ye ought to forgive one another; for he that forgiveth not his brother his trespasses standeth condemned before the Lord; for there remaineth in him the greater sin.
“I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men” (D&C 64:9–10).
With time and prayer, I did forgive that man. We all did.

Another season of cross-country had come to an end, which meant it was time for our team’s annual awards ceremony. I had loved running on the team, but as the ceremony progressed, I started to become discouraged. I knew that I hadn’t been fast enough to receive any awards. It frustrated me that I couldn’t run as fast as I wanted to, especially after working so hard.
Right when I’d lost all hope of receiving an award, I heard my name announced. To my surprise, my coach recognized me for being the Most Improved runner. Our coach gave this award only to the person who had achieved the biggest difference between her fastest time from last season and her fastest time from the current one. This year it was me.
I had been so focused on what I hadn’t accomplished that, until then, I didn’t recognize how much better I’d become.
Now, whenever I’m discouraged because I don’t feel like I’m enough, I remind myself to look back and be grateful for how far I’ve come with the Lord’s help.

When I was only about eight years old, I wondered about the nature of God. One day my father read the scripture from the book of James that promises that if we lack wisdom, we can “ask of God, that giveth … liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given” (James 1:5). Those words filled my heart and were imprinted on my mind.
When I was alone in my bedroom, I prayed to God, asking Him to tell me if the church I was attending was the right one. I wanted Him to answer me immediately. But that didn’t happen. God didn’t do what I wanted, and I was sad that He hadn’t answered my prayer immediately. I wanted to know! I had done what I thought was sufficient.
Growing up, I had the opportunity to search for the answer in many churches. As I did, I got more and more confused. Everybody contradicted each other, and they would just gloss over my questions about the nature of God.
Years later, tired of searching, I said, “There is no answer.”
I began to do things that some modern youth do, such as partying and participating in a lot of worldly diversions. Each week I sank further and further into darkness because my decisions weren’t the best. The bad habits were also distancing me from my family, who had always supported me.
But once again the desire came to me to ask God. I prayed, “Father, I am here waiting. I have searched, and I have not found. The scriptures promise answers, but nothing is coming. Look at me. I am alone. I want to know, but I don’t know how to find You.”
At that time only—not before and not after, but just when I needed it—I felt that my chest burned as strong as if a volcano were inside of me. I couldn’t control the tears. I knew it was an answer to my question.
In the afternoon, when I was at school, I was thinking about my answer when my best friend asked me, “What are you thinking about, Ismael?” I didn’t give him a truthful answer then, telling him that I was thinking about the beach and that I wanted to go see the sunrise in the morning. I invited him to go.
“I can’t,” he told me, smiling.
“Why not?” I asked him. “What are you doing so early in the morning?”
“Seminary,” he said.
“Seminary? What is seminary?” I asked him. He explained to me that it was classes that his church held.
“How long have you been going to a church?” I asked him, surprised.
“As long as I can remember. I’m a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
I told him I wanted to go and see. I knew inside that it was an answer to my long years of prayer.
The next day I woke up at 5:30 a.m. and went to seminary. The greatest surprise was that they were studying the Bible. I can say that I have never felt such a strong feeling of peace as I did when I entered the branch’s building in Matancita, the Dominican Republic, where pure doctrine was shared, delicious to a soul that had sought so anxiously. The hymns sung filled my mind and my heart with a thought: “This is the truth.”
“Wow,” I thought, “I want to feel this every day.” I asked when I could come back, and the teacher, my friend’s mother, gave me the class schedule and invited me to come to the branch’s Sunday services also.
From then on, every Monday through Friday, I got up at 5:30 to go to seminary and every Sunday to church. I couldn’t miss. I had found what I had always been looking for.
Sadly, there were no missionaries to teach me and baptize me. After a year and a half and much prayer, missionaries arrived and taught me all of the missionary lessons in a week. I remember the moment when I was submerged in the blue waters on my village’s beautiful beach.
I now enjoy the privilege of being not a stranger or foreigner (see Ephesians 2:19) but a brother of all those who have entered in the path of the Lord, the strait and narrow path.