Gospel Story Finder

Throughout the scriptures, and indeed in the writings of thoughtful Christians through the centuries, we find examples of how Christ’s message of light and salvation can spiritually and physically sustain us. As a young priest traveling in Italy in 1833, Englishman John Henry Newman encountered emotional and physical darkness when illness detained him there for several weeks. He became deeply discouraged, and a nurse who saw his tears asked what troubled him. All he could reply was that he was sure God had work for him to do in England. Aching to return home, he finally found passage on a small boat.
Not long after the ship set sail, thick fog descended and obscured the hazardous cliffs surrounding them. Trapped for a week in the damp, gray darkness, the ship unable to travel forward or back, Newman pled for his Savior’s help as he penned the words we now know as the hymn “Lead, Kindly Light.”
Lead, kindly Light, amid th’encircling gloom; …
The night is dark, and I am far from home; …
Keep thou my feet; …
one step enough for me.
(Hymns, no. 97)
This hymn echoes a truth our hearts confirm: though trials may extinguish other sources of light, Christ will illuminate our path, “keep our feet,” and show us the way home. For as the Savior has promised, “he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness” (John 8:12).

Every Christmas Eve my wife serves my favorite dish, clam chowder. We added the chowder to our holiday traditions not only because we enjoy the taste, but because it reminds us of the Savior’s infinite love for us. After the last bite, we tell the clam chowder story, which happened years ago when our children were young.

It was a Monday evening, and I was on my way home from work, looking forward to a fun and relaxing family home evening with my wife and children. As I walked toward the back door, I anticipated the children playing nicely and dinner waiting on the table. Not so.

My wife, Joy, had arrived home just before I did. She had had a busy day, and now each of our children was trying to get her attention. As we began to sort out their needs, it seemed each had homework that had to be completed that evening. Joy was exhausted, we needed to prepare dinner, we needed to hold family home evening, and Joy had also committed to prepare clam chowder for 60 women who would attend the Relief Society luncheon the next day.

We divided up the tasks. Joy fixed dinner, I helped the children with their homework, and we held a short family home evening. I then put the children to bed while Joy started the clam chowder. The children were all tucked in bed by about 9:30. I walked into the kitchen, and Joy was busily preparing the ingredients for the clam chowder. The process is quite lengthy and somewhat tricky. The chowder must be constantly stirred at the right temperature, or it will burn.

Joy had to leave at 8:00 the next morning, so the chowder had to be finished that evening. I asked her if she would like me to help. She said she could handle it, so I went upstairs to work on my electronics course.

About 11:30 Joy came into the room with a small bowl of chowder. I was in the middle of soldering a part in a circuit board. When I looked up she was gone. There sat the steaming bowl of heavenly soup. I put a big spoonful in my mouth, expecting ecstasy. I was startled. I couldn’t believe what I was tasting. It was terrible! It tasted burned. Surely this couldn’t be. How could I tell my wife?

Gathering all my tact and courage, I went downstairs. She was sitting in the kitchen, looking forlorn and tired. I said as gently as I could, “Honey, there’s no way you can serve this. It’s burned.” She looked up and started to cry. “I hoped you wouldn’t notice. I was stirring and stirring, and all of a sudden I noticed black flecks coming to the top. I quickly took it off the stove and poured it into another pot, hoping I had caught it in time.” The tears flowed freely, and she looked hopeless. “I am so tired, it’s so late, and we don’t have any money to replace the ingredients. What are we going to do?”

I put my arms around her and told her she needed to go to bed. She said, “But I can’t. I still have carrots to peel and cut up.” I walked her to the bedroom. We had a prayer, and she got in bed. She was already asleep when I closed the door and headed for the kitchen, wondering what I could possibly do.

I grabbed the cookbook and looked for “burned milk products” in the index. Nothing. I even tried calling an all-night radio program that discussed all sorts of topics. I couldn’t get through, so I went back to the sink and peeled carrots. It was full panic time. I had done all I could do. Only one option left. I went into the dark living room and knelt down.

I felt a bit uncomfortable asking about such a trivial matter. But it was not trivial to Joy. “Heavenly Father,” I began, “I know there are many people with big problems. But I have no other place to go. I have done all I know how to do. This problem is very big to my wife, and that makes it important to me. She is faithful and tries to do all she is asked to do.” I took a deep breath. “Please, Father, take the burned taste out of the clam chowder before morning. Please forgive me for asking such a trivial thing, but please help my wife.” With that I went to bed.

About 6:30 a.m. my wife sat up in bed and said, “What am I going to do?” I told her the carrots were done, and she needed to get dressed and go try the chowder. She dipped out a small amount into a pan and heated it. As she tasted it she looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “There are no black flecks and no burned taste. What did you do?” I told her what I had done, and we both realized the blessing He had granted us. We knelt in prayer and thanked our Heavenly Father for His love and concern for us.

What process did the Lord use? I don’t know. Why did He grant this petition? I don’t know. All I know is that He said, “Ask, and it shall be given you” (Matt. 7:7), and I believed Him. And this time He granted the blessing.

Oh yes, the clam chowder was served to the sisters. They all commented on how delicious it was and asked for the recipe.

We find the Christmas season the best time of year to remind ourselves and our family of how much the Savior cares about us and that, to Him, even little things matter.

James Arrington, the character actor and returned missionary who portrays Brother Brigham, said, “I first got the idea of doing somebody after seeing a one-man show on Will Rogers. I loved it! Right then I decided our people are great enough to have something done about them. I saw other one-man shows—Clarence Darrow, Harry Truman, Mark Twain—on TV and on stage, and wished somebody would write a script I could use. Then I thought, ‘Hey, I could write the script!’”
After concluding that Brigham Young would be a suitable subject for that type of theater, James went to work. For two years he gathered all the information he could find on the pioneer prophet. The more he learned about the colonizer, the more he grew to appreciate Brigham Young.
“Because of the hostile 19th-century press, Brigham was one of the most misunderstood men of his day, but his people loved him because of his kindness, his sweetness, and his humor,” James said.
The 20th-century version of Brigham, which will begin a national tour in February, has captivated audiences throughout the Intermountain West. On stage he reads letters, reminisces, carries on one-way conversations, and tells of his association with Joseph Smith.
“I want to shout hallelujah every time I think I ever knew Joseph Smith,” he tells his audience.
He then quickly points out that he had been a member for some time before he met Joseph. He recalls one occasion when he defended the prophet’s character, although he had yet to know him. At that time, he said, “I do not know Joseph Smith. I have never met him. I do not know his private character. I do not care anything about that for I never embrace any man in my faith. But the Book of Mormon and the revelations and the doctrine that have come through the Prophet Joseph Smith will save you and me and the whole world.”
Brigham then recounts a mission to Canada he served at his own expense. He traveled more than 2,000 miles on foot. “That shows the depth of his conviction,” James said.
Brigham Young also tells of his and Heber Kimball’s journey to Kirtland where they first met the Prophet of the restoration. He also comments on his subsequent missionary calls. “He traveled every summer on missions,” James added. “His mission to England, the one most Saints remember, did not come until after he had led the Saints out of Missouri and into Commerce, Illinois. Joseph later joined them when he and several companions escaped their captors in Missouri.”
Through missionary work Brigham’s self-confidence increased. He also learned principles of Church administration. This growth of confidence is revealed in the letters of Brigham to Joseph Smith.
“At first while on his England mission, he kept asking what he should do next. As the months progressed he began more and more to tell the Prophet what he had done and was planning to do,” said James.
“Brigham is one of the nation’s greatest men of letters. The Church Historical Department has more than 30,000 pages of letters on file. We don’t know how many were lost. These letters include messages to his family, advice to his children, communication with national leaders, and directives to Church officials.”
Remembered as an apostle and prophet and a colonizer, Brigham proudly tells his modern audiences that he is a skilled craftsman. “He specialized in carpentry, house painting, and glass glazing,” James noted.
“I’ve always felt that much of the happiness in this life comes from having something worthy to do and doing it well,” Brigham states. On occasion, the historical Brigham urged the Saints to habits of thrift and orderliness. He reported that he could go into his shop on the middle of a dark night and without any light locate whatever tool or item he needed.
Although his present-day performance is peppered with good humor, Brigham has moments of solemness. He tells the audience of the time he was stumping for Joseph Smith’s candidacy as president of the United States in 1844 and learned of the martyrdom in Illinois. He was in New York when he received notice of the assassination. “My first thought was whether Joseph had taken the keys to the kingdom with him. Then bringing my hand down on my knee I told them, ‘No, the keys of the kingdom are right here in the Church.’”
He then recounts that he and others of the Twelve who were then back east returned promptly to Nauvoo where they halted Sidney Rigdon’s effort to wrest control of the Church and proclaim himself guardian of the Saints and spokesman for Joseph.
The 20th-century Brigham intersperses historical accounts with interviews with his secretary, George Watt, and with members of the Church. James explained, “Brigham’s office was always open to any member of the Church and to outsiders. He called it interviewing and found a valuable means of correcting false concepts about himself and about the Church.”
Of such visits by nonmembers, Brigham says, “Though sometimes disagreeable, they are a valuable means of correcting false notions and extending courtesies to which the person, in some cases, is probably entirely unworthy.”
Naturally modest, Brigham never mentions the hundreds of communities settled under his direction, the beginnings of the vast sugar beet industry, nor the origin of Intermountain West drama under his urging. Instead, he passes by these major accomplishments, which have brought fame to him and to the Church, to remind the audience that he was also a painter-glazier.

At this time Peter was going through a series of 28 operations to reconstruct his features and correct injuries suffered in his accident. He was approached by his bishop who asked what he would be doing if he could do anything he wanted.
Quickly it slipped out because it was a great desire of mine, but it seemed so totally impossible. I said, “I’d love to serve a mission.” And without even thinking twice he said, “Well, let’s get you ready.” I said, “Oh, bishop, I can’t do that.” I started to go over my finances and how much I owed and how my leg had not healed yet and all the operations I faced and the way people related to me. But he just said, “Let’s get you ready.”
The bishop called Peter to teach Sunday School, and after several trying times, Peter had some good experiences in teaching the Gospel Doctrine class. He was working several jobs to help pay his hospital bills. He had several more operations scheduled, and he was beginning to think seriously about his future. Some friends came one day to ask him to go to a stake dance that evening with them. Although he wanted to go, he refused. It took them six hours of talking to convince him to try going to the dance.
As I entered the foyer, I noticed that all the kids started looking at me, and I noticed some girls over by the coat rack. A couple of girls whispered, they didn’t know I could hear them, “Look at that guy. I sure hope he doesn’t ask me to dance.” Once again an ugly feeling shrouded my whole being.
I found a place behind the young men up near the band. I claimed a 60 cm square piece of board as my territory. I was going to own it for those hours at the dance.
At intermission his friends tried to encourage him to dance. They started pulling him out onto the floor. During the intermission, he resolved that as soon as the band began playing again, he would ask a girl to dance.
As soon as the music started, I remembered my commitment. I refused to think about my appearance and I went right out there to dance. I knew if I didn’t do it then, I would be a coward for the rest of the night.
He reached the section of the floor where the girls had congregated. He approached one girl from the back. When he touched her on the shoulder to ask for a dance, she turned and screamed. Embarrassed, she ran out of the ball, pushing her way through the crowd. It was just like the store. The band stopped; everyone stopped to see what was the matter. He returned to his place. His friends tried to comfort him, and the dance started again.
I wanted to shout; I wanted to get out of there. And this small voice deep down inside me said, “Peter, you can’t run now; you’ll be running for the rest of your life.” Another strange thing started to happen. My legs started to move across the floor. I watched myself go out there to ask another girl to dance. I had strength beyond my own power. It was like my spirit was up above me saying, “What are you doing? You’ve got to get back. Are you a glutton for punishment.” As I was walking across the floor, I was having this argument saying yes and no and yes and no. This small voice inside me kept reassuring me. It said, “Peter, you must keep asking them to dance. Don’t turn and run because you’ll be running forever.”
He asked a girl to dance every dance for the rest of the evening. He was discouraged when only two girls the entire evening would dance with him. That night as he knelt in prayer, Peter was one bitter young man.
Everything seemed to come together—all the pressure of the people, the way they treated me and stared at me and pointed at me, and all the operations that were left to be done. I still did not really know if they could correct my eyes and give me some eyelids, a normal mouth, and a nose. This feeling of ugliness came upon me, and in my anger, I said to my Father in Heaven, “There is a scripture that promises that we will not be tempted beyond our capacity to resist. I need that now.” I went to bed. The next morning I was blessed with a peace and a calmness that has stayed with me ever since. And regardless of how the world treated me from that point on. I was normal. My Father in Heaven just gave peace to me as He promised. If we live the commandments, he will give us what we need. He gave me a peace and a calmness so I was normal from that day on. Yes people would still react the same toward me, but I was different.

One of the things that has shaped Matt’s life is diabetes, discovered when he was 12. He had to spend Easter in a hospital, badly dehydrated. How has it shaped him? “There’s a scripture that I like that could explain it better than I can. It’s in Ether, chapter 12, verse 27: ‘I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; … for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.’” Matt sits in thought for a minute. The night has deepened and warm, yellow light from the kitchen spills onto the porch. In the pasture below the house, a horse whinnies softly. The talk turns to the qualities of wood again—about the problems with the big knots in wood like pine, how hard and brittle they are and how difficult they make it to shape the wood. And how difficult it must be for the Lord to shape us if our hearts are hard and brittle. Matt sees the process of shaping people as a joint effort between the Lord and the individual. “You live your life and live the principles you have been taught, and the Lord will take you and show you things that you wouldn’t otherwise think He could do.” Each of Matt’s carvings starts out pretty rough. But bit by bit, piece by piece, he turns it into something. “I have a vision of what I want it to be. And I make the rough cuts. And when I get it carved out, I change a couple of things to make it better. And then I make a few more coarse cuts and make it still better.” And so the process goes. But it takes patience. “Sometimes you can get really involved in a piece and you ruin it because you haven’t stopped to look at what you are doing. You have to stand back, be patient, and wait,” Matt says. It’s like the experience he had with some of his investigators in the mission field. For example, one woman didn’t think she could give up smoking. “We had to be patient with her and give her blessings. But in the end, she made it and she, her husband, and their son and daughter were baptized.” Thinking back, Matt speaks fondly of his mission presidents and how they helped to shape him as a missionary, making him a sharper tool in the Lord’s hand. “I had a lot of spiritual guidance,” he says. And the people he helped the Lord shape? “I think about them a lot, and about how they are doing. I miss the people, the interaction with them.” Considering how much he cares about people, it’s no wonder Matt has been teaching sculpting at an area art center, even as his future is still being shaped. After all, a piece of wood is still just a piece of wood. But a life—now that’s a real work of art.

My mom can tell when I am in a bad mood, and she’ll text me to tell me that she loves me. One time my mom was dropping me off for early-morning seminary, and I was not talking much. That morning she sent a text saying, “I love you and am proud of you. I hope you have a really good day because you deserve it.” She’s taught me how to serve others and be more selfless. From her I have learned that no matter the situation you are in, you can always help others.

At age 25, I found myself in a verbally abusive relationship. I’d become less active in the Church, but when I finally left my boyfriend, I decided to go back to attending church regularly. I wanted to be on the straight and narrow path again. Little did I know, though, that when I made that decision, I was already pregnant.
I decided to stay true to my choice to be active again in the Church, but I didn’t really want to be pregnant and go to church where I lived. I wanted to attend a ward in a different city, so I went there one Sunday. It was the day of the Primary sacrament meeting presentation. As the children talked about how Heavenly Father always loves us, I felt His love too. That message was a great blessing for me that day.
After the meeting, I asked the bishop if I could attend that ward given my situation. He advised me to go to the ward within my boundaries. I didn’t want to, but he assured me I’d be OK, and I was.
When I told my bishop about my pregnancy, he was so helpful. It was a blessing to meet with him regularly. As I talked with him about my options for the baby, he wanted me to know that he was there to represent the Lord in my repentance process but would not tell me what decision to make about raising or placing my baby. As we were studying Doctrine and Covenants 9:8–9, my bishop asked me to pray and tell Heavenly Father what I really wanted—he encouraged me to make a decision and seek confirmation from the Lord.
So I went home and prayed. I told Heavenly Father all the amazing reasons why I would be the best mom for this baby, and I asked to know if that decision was right. The next day, everything in life felt like it was falling apart. For instance, I lost my medical insurance, and my car broke down.
At church the following Sunday, I told my bishop how life seemed to fall apart after I prayed about my decision. Because of what had happened after my prayer, my bishop suggested that I consider a different decision and seek confirmation about it instead.
While working with my bishop, I had considered placing the baby for adoption and had narrowed down the potential adoptive families to two couples. The bishop suggested that I select one of the two couples and pray about that decision to ask if this little guy needed to go with them.
I went home and reluctantly prayed, asking Heavenly Father if the couple I had chosen were the ones my child needed. The next morning, a connection my sister made led to a miracle solution for my insurance. I felt this was a confirmation that adoption was the right path for me, and I remember thinking this child could have so much more with a different family.
I knew that Heavenly Father would help me with this decision. Part of me hoped this choice would be like the story of Abraham and Isaac (see Genesis 22)—that when it came time for me to place my son for adoption, God would tell me I didn’t need to do it anymore. But He didn’t. I needed to place my son with a wonderful family.
As I sat in the hospital with my new little bundle of joy, I turned on the TV. General conference happened to be on. I heard a talk by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles entitled “None Were with Him.” He taught that “because Jesus walked such a long, lonely path utterly alone, we do not have to do so.”1 I closed my eyes and told Heavenly Father that I felt so alone, and then I felt so much love from Him.
After the placement, I felt completely empty. But in the back of my mind, I still knew I wasn’t alone. I knew Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ were with me, as Elder Holland had taught. I prepared for the temple and received my endowment. I was obeying the commandments, and I was determined I would never let myself be deceived into wrong choices again.
But years later, I was deceived again and ended up in another abusive relationship. When I broke away, I found out I was pregnant again. I didn’t want to place the baby. I was older than before, and I felt like I could be a good mom. I met with my bishop and a social worker. I started following the same process that I had before in praying about adoption, but nothing ever seemed to click. It always felt difficult.
I still went to church. Sometimes ward members would say they were surprised to see me there pregnant, which hurt a little. But I still went every week. I wanted people to see that what I had done reflected a choice I had made but that it didn’t define who I was. I worked with my bishop to move forward.
As my due date grew closer, I started to panic. With my first baby, I’d had a plan, but this one was so different. I didn’t feel like I was receiving a strong answer regarding any option for my baby. I let the couple whom I had placed my first baby with know that I was pregnant but unsure of whether I would place, and that if I did place, I would want them to raise this baby as well.
After I had the baby, I still felt unsure. Then my doctor came in to check on us and said, “I don’t know if you’ll be able to have children again, so love this little one.” While that may not be the answer for everyone, I felt the Spirit confirm that this was the right choice for me. After panicking for nine months, I felt peace. I let the couple know that I had decided to parent my daughter.
I wanted to be the best mom I could be, and I knew that the only way to do that was staying close to family and the Lord’s Church. I knew that what I had learned in the gospel of Jesus Christ would help her like it had helped me.
With my pregnancies, was one decision easier than the other? No. Both options were hard—just different kinds of hard, as were the joys. With my daughter, she is an incredible delight to me. Yet being a single mother is hard. With the son I placed, I still think about him and hope he’s happy throughout his life, but I am not as involved in his day-to-day happenings. When I was pregnant with him, I couldn’t see what Heavenly Father had in mind for him. But now I can see it, and I know he’s where he needs to be.
We can’t know beforehand what placing or single parenting will be like. But we can always trust in the Lord.
As part of my repentance, I remember hearing my bishop say, “Your sins are forgiven.” I felt such great relief, and I realized that the Atonement of Jesus Christ is real. I would remember my sin, but from that moment on, my Savior, Jesus Christ, would remember it no more (see Doctrine and Covenants 58:42). I knew that He wanted me to move forward to become a better person, to become what He sees I can be. That’s what I strive to do every day—to become even closer to Him and to hold ever tighter to the iron rod (see 1 Nephi 15:23–24; see also 1 Nephi 11:25).
One of my favorite scriptures reads, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16). I am grateful for Heavenly Father’s plan of redemption.
I currently serve as my ward’s Young Women president. One principle I try to help the young women learn is that regardless of any choices they make, there is no place where they are out of Heavenly Father’s reach. As Elder Holland taught: “However many mistakes you feel you have made or talents you think you don’t have, or however far from home and family and God you feel you have traveled, I testify that you have not traveled beyond the reach of divine love. It is not possible for you to sink lower than the infinite light of Christ’s Atonement shines.”2
I hope that the young women in my ward—and everyone—remember that truth. It has blessed my life immeasurably, and the joys I now feel in living the gospel have become an even greater strength to me.

On the opposite end of the continent, in the world’s southernmost city of Ushuaia, Argentina, the promise of eternal families caught the attention of Amanda Robledo and her husband, Ricardo. Following the death of her mother, Amanda visited different denominations, hoping the teachings of Jesus Christ could heal her heart. When missionaries later found the couple and taught them that families could be sealed together, Ricardo felt the Holy Spirit and sought baptism. Amanda was similarly touched but remained uncertain due to rumors she had heard. Eventually, her love for her family and desire to be with them forever convinced her to join the Church and be bonded to them through temple ordinances.

I had been working at the movie theater for less than a month by the time my co-workers discovered I was a member of the Church. Several co-workers asked me questions about the Church and I answered them, but I never invited anyone to learn more. One co-worker, Garrett, had been assigned to work many of the same shifts that I had been, and we quickly became friends.
One night we were both assigned to clean theaters between showings. Garrett started asking me questions about the gospel. I answered his questions and then felt a distinct prompting to invite him to church. My heart raced. I had never invited anyone to learn more about the gospel. Missionary work terrified me. I was afraid that if I shared the gospel and Garrett wasn’t interested, things would be awkward between us. But the prompting was so strong I knew I had to follow it.
“You should come to church with me sometime,” I said, trying to control the tremor in my voice.
“No way!” Garrett exclaimed.
I was stunned. I was grateful we were in a dark theater so he couldn’t see how embarrassed I was. As we finished cleaning the theater in silence, I wondered why I had been prompted to invite Garrett to church. Did Heavenly Father just want to humble me? I didn’t know, but I was sure that things would never be the same between Garrett and me. We went out into the hall, and Garrett broke the silence. Soon, we were laughing and joking. There was no awkwardness.
Then the realization hit me. I had finally attempted to share the gospel, and though my invitation had been rejected, I was still standing. I had nothing to fear. Since then I have been able to share the gospel several times and have had some positive experiences. I’m grateful for this experience, which helped me overcome my fear of missionary work.
[illustration] Illustration by Sam Lawlor

Jenny’s tears brought back a flood of memories for me. I remembered trying to make it all the way through the first verse of “Love at Home.” But every time we hit “Time doth softly, sweetly glide,” my voice would crack—along with my composure. At my house, time rarely glided. It lurched from one emotional blowup to the next. In between, my brother and sisters and I walked on tiptoe, our nerves tightly strung. I guess we thought that if we were careful enough, maybe we could avoid setting off the next explosion. We could never be careful enough. And always the brief sunshine was followed by a terrifying storm of rage that threatened to swallow us up.
I remember going to church without Dad during the years when he was in and out of Church activity. When he came, I hoped no one would detect the smell of smoke on his breath. When he didn’t, well-meaning friends would sometimes ask me where he was, shattering my hope that no one had noticed.
Then there was the week he didn’t come for our family’s speaking assignment in sacrament meeting. I couldn’t stop the tears as I waited for my turn to speak. At moments like this, the unthinkable fear came to the surface: maybe we would never be an eternal family.
Always there was that fear, which over the years grew into a terrifying certainty. My clearest, most cherished childhood memory—of being sealed to my parents shortly after we had joined the Church—would ultimately mean nothing.
When my parents were divorced, I was in my twenties. But still I felt like a frightened child. All the happy parts of my past life with my family seemed suddenly canceled out—invalidated—no longer relevant. What joy could the present hold for me or for those I loved? And eternity? I felt eternally orphaned.
Now that I’m in my thirties, understanding and peace are healing some of the wounds in my soul. And one of my greatest desires is to offer some of the peace I’ve found to those of you who are living in turbulent, unhappy families.
“If you aren’t happy, you are doing something wrong.” I’m sure when my Sunday School teacher told us this, he never imagined how I would misinterpret it. I wrote it down and posted it on my mirror, knowing I wasn’t very happy. I cried in my room many nights—out of fear, disappointment, and self-pity. So I began to feel that I must be doing something terribly wrong. Even though I couldn’t exactly pinpoint it, I knew I must have some fatal flaw.
Of course, I wasn’t perfect as a teenager. But now I know that my feelings of unworthiness were not justified. Most of my sorrow came from the choices of others. And their choices were almost completely beyond my control. I was a child in my family. And as a child, I was not responsible for the overall success or failure of my family. Nor was I responsible for my parents’ choices.
The same is true for you. You may have an alcoholic parent or parents who fight or parents who violate the commandments. True, you need to do your best to not be part of the problem, but try not to complicate your situation with false feelings of guilt.
Sometimes making it through a divorce or another kind of family difficulty is a matter of simply hanging on. Hang on to the reality that your Heavenly Father loves you and your family deeply and eternally.
Often, my prayers for my family seemed to go unanswered. Sometimes, the more I prayed, the worse things seemed to get. I didn’t know then that, though the Lord shares our sorrow, he will not force change. But over time, his love can often find a way to bring even greater blessings than we had prayed for. So many of those fervent prayers of long ago have now been answered. And I now know that he has never ceased trying to bless my loved ones.
Hang on to the scriptures that fill you with faith. For example, “Let your hearts be comforted; for all things shall work together for good to them that walk uprightly” (D&C 100:15).
Find music that feeds your spirit. How many nights I found peace by singing to myself, “When you walk through a storm, hold your head up high, and don’t be afraid of the dark. At the end of the storm is a golden sky and the sweet, silver song of the lark. Walk on through the wind. Walk on through the rain, though your dreams be tossed and blown. Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart, and you’ll never walk alone. You’ll never walk alone” (Rodgers and Hammerstein, “You’ll Never Walk Alone,” Carousel).
If your family’s unhappiness includes abuse—physical, sexual, or emotional—you may need to ask for help. Find an adult—a parent, Church leader, social worker, school counselor, or physician—whom you trust and who will take you seriously. This may be embarrassing and very difficult. But sometimes intervention from outside the family is needed to protect you and other family members.
Hang on to leaders and friends who encourage you and help you keep your faith and standards. Brother Cherrington, a stake patriarch in our ward, always made me feel that I was someone special and that I would make it.
Hang on to your patriarchal blessing and the vision of yourself it gives you. Its promises, however distant they may seem, are real and eternal. The Lord knew all about your present difficulties when he gave those promises, and they will be fulfilled.
Hang on to the reality that you are not alone in your situation. As a teenager, I felt that my family and our problems were unique. When my best friend spent the night at my house, I worried that she would notice what I wanted to hide. Not until we were adults did I discover that her family had very similar problems to mine.
Don’t be fooled by appearances. The most confident, witty, and popular of your friends may face problems even greater than yours. Even the most faithful families may have deep challenges. Knowing this can help you break out of the prison of being totally absorbed with your own problems. Let it also prompt you to reach out in love to your friends, even when your own problems seem great.
In times of difficulty, how can we possibly keep a positive attitude? In August 1831, the Prophet Joseph Smith and ten elders were returning to Kirtland, Ohio, from a missionary journey to Jackson County, Missouri. On the third day of their trip, they had a perilous canoe ride down the Missouri River. They must have been tired and shaken, possibly homesick as well. Then the Lord reassured them with these gentle words: “Be of good cheer, little children; for I am in your midst, and I have not forsaken you” (D&C 61:36).
We, too, can be assured that the Lord will never leave us alone. During my teenage years, I did not always recognize his presence. Now I know that when my way was the most perilous, he was always with me.
We need to also know that our Heavenly Father’s plan of salvation is infinitely more just and merciful than we can possibly comprehend. He will leave nothing undone for the blessing of his children. Truly, there are no eternal orphans in his loving plan.
Although we must live in the present, we can also live for the future. We can live for the day when we can go to the temple to receive greater understanding and blessings than we now enjoy. We can live for the day when we can make a home of our own—a home where we can strive to bring love, peace, and the Spirit. We can also live for the day when we can nurture others as we may not have been nurtured ourselves.
For me, this day has come at last. I know that it can come for you.

My father touched me on the shoulder.
“Mrs. Gleaves was my Sunday School teacher,” he said. Mrs. Gleaves laughed.
“That was a long time ago. Your wife was in the class too. She wasn’t your wife then, was she though?”
My father was silent. He kept eating like he hadn’t heard her.
“She had a temper, didn’t she? I remember we were building models of the city of Bethlehem out of Epsom salts one Sunday. I don’t remember what you did, but she got mad at you and dumped the whole bucket of salt on you right there in church.”

Subject: Dan
Age: 16 years
Event: First prom date
The dance was over. Dan carefully maneuvered his dad’s car out of the high school parking lot. “I thought we’d go out to eat,” he said suavely.
“Great!” his date said. “Where?”
“Of course, because of the prom, many places will be full.”
“How about the Pyrenes?” she suggested. “My parents go there.”
“I’m sure it’ll be full,” Dan answered quickly.
“Okay, how about the Bonanza?”
“That will be full.”
“McDonald’s?” the girl pleaded.
“Full,” Dan answered firmly. “But don’t worry. I know a place that’s never full.”
“What’s it called?” she asked suspiciously.
“Big Alice’s Truck Stop Diner and Reloading Emporium. You get all the hashbrowns you can eat.”
“Oh,” the girl said with disappointment.
The old diner seemed to be leaning into the wind along the nearly deserted section of old highway that had been abandoned with the construction of the interstate. Apparently a few truckers still went out of their way because two large semi-trucks were parked outside.
“My dad gave me ten dollars to take you out to dinner,” Dan said as they pulled to a stop in front of the place, “but, gosh, you could eat here for a week for ten dollars.”
Alice, a huge woman, stood behind the counter with her arms folded and argued politics with two truckers. Dan and his date moved quickly to the other end of the long row of stools along the counter and sat down. In a minute, Big Alice sauntered down to get their order. “Whataya want?”
“Two hamburgers with everything,” Dan said, “plenty of hashbrowns, and a couple of donuts for dessert.”
“Is it okay, what I ordered for you?” Dan asked his date. “My dad said that the guy is supposed to order. It’s etiquette.”
The two truckers and Big Alice continued their argument as she cooked their order.
“You can’t say that!” one trucker argued.
“Well, I’m saying it!” the other trucker roared. “The trouble with people today is that nobody wants to fight! Especially the kids today. They couldn’t fight their way out of a paper bag!”
Suddenly the three looked down the long row of empty stools to Dan and his date.
Dan nervously smiled at them.
In a few minutes, Big Alice brought their food and then left.
The girl carefully examined the hamburger. “The meat’s all greasy,” she complained.
“That used to bother me, too, when I first started eating here,” Dan eagerly explained, “but I learned a little trick.” Grabbing some napkins, he picked up her hamburger patty and blotted it with the napkins. “There,” he said proudly, “how’s that?”
He eagerly ate, but she took a fork and only probed the food with it.
“Aren’t you even going to eat your hashbrowns?” he asked.
“They’re greasy, too.”
“Yeah, but they’re great with catsup.” He picked up the catsup bottle, and in his eagerness, dumped the entire contents on her plate. Some of it splashed on her formal.
“Whoops,” he said apologetically.
“Please,” she said, beginning to cry, “take me home.”
“Okay,” Dan agreed. “Why don’t you take a donut with you in case you get hungry on the way?”__________

Soon after young Gordon was ordained a deacon, his father took him to stake priesthood meeting. To open the meeting, the men sang “Praise to the Man” (Hymns, number 27), a wonderful song about the Prophet Joseph Smith. Of that experience, President Hinckley said: “Something happened within me as I heard those men of faith sing. There came into my boyish heart a knowledge, placed there by the Holy Spirit, that Joseph Smith was indeed a prophet of the Almighty” (“Joseph the Seer,” Ensign, May 1977, 66). Throughout his life, Gordon B. Hinckley has borne powerful testimony of Joseph Smith.

Besides the wallabies and kangaroos, other marsupials living near the Scout camp included the potoroo, ring-tailed possums, echidnas, and wombats. The famous Tasmanian devils have never been sighted on Maria Island.
This information alone allowed the boys to sleep easier at night, although many still felt sleeping was the biggest problem at the camp.
“The nights were really bad. The possums were out in force raiding tents and rubbish bins all night. In the whole camp the worst thing was trying to get to sleep. There was one rock that seemed to follow me all night, and between that and the wind and the cold I didn’t sleep much,” said Stephen Szekely, of Launceston.
“The possums through the night gave me the willies because we had to keep bashing them out of our food box and a possum got in our tent and climbed up our tent pole. We broke our torch (flashlight) trying to get him out of there. Then the emus got in our tent and dunged all over Heath’s, Andrew’s, and my sleeping gear. But the kangaroos were great; they weren’t pests like the emus,” said Geoffrey Jones, a nonmember from Glen Huon.

We had Mrs. Jacobson over for Christmas dinner last year. I now have someone to visit with when I feel depressed, like the other day when I went out with Dave and I spilled spaghetti all over and felt like climbing under the table. I told Mrs. Jacobson about that, and she told me about how once when she was dating her husband, he came to visit her one evening. She thought he was coming a half hour later than he did. He came to the door while she was in her room. Mrs. Jacobson’s sister invited him in to sit down and started to go up the stairs to announce that he was there. Mrs. Jacobson came out of her bedroom door, intending to go downstairs and borrow a necklace. She started singing a song and was halfway down the stairs when she saw the young man grinning up at her. I guess everybody does things like that sometimes.

It’s 5:00 a.m. at the Old St. Augustine Road chapel on a Saturday morning in October. All three boys who have gathered in the parking lot in Jacksonville, Florida, are used to getting up early. But 4:30 in the morning?
“I’m usually here at the chapel for seminary. But that’s at 6:00 on school days,” says Jake Livsey, a teacher in the Mandarin First Ward of the Jacksonville Florida East Stake. He’s yawning when he sees Austin Pearce and his father pull into the lot. Austin, also a teacher, is a member of the St. Johns Ward. Before long, Travis Stevenson of the Mandarin Second Ward arrives with his father. Jake, Austin, and Travis are in the same stake but different wards, and they go to three different high schools. Yet this day they have one purpose.
About four hours after arriving at the ward building, the three boys are in Melbourne, a central Florida city that Hurricane Jeanne hit hard. They’re part of a huge group of Latter-day Saints who arrived in the city to provide hurricane relief. As they’re getting their assignments from a local bishop who is steering the volunteer effort, they look around at the destruction. Trees are down, roof shingles are scattered, and debris is everywhere. The job looks overwhelming, especially after hearing that the young men’s assignment is to work on houses at a trailer park.
“It’s interesting to see what the hurricane has done,” says Jake. “We didn’t have much damage in Jacksonville. But to see these houses that had been blown apart, I realize that, wow, this was where somebody lived.”
As they begin to haul siding and insulation to the curb, they notice an older man standing amid the rubble that had been a portion of his house before it collapsed. “Just get rid of everything,” the man says. “None of it is worth saving.” The boys introduce themselves, and the man, named Leo, looks around. “You’re saying this isn’t going to cost me anything? Now who are you again?”
Well, since he asked, they’re Aaronic Priesthood holders, giving up a weekend to help people in need.
“The biggest thing I’ve learned is that there is always somebody worse off than you are,” says Travis. “It is sad to see what the hurricane did. I’m glad I can help.”
About a half-hour after they had arrived at Leo’s house, everything is cleared from what used to be the south side of his home. All the wet carpeting has been torn up, and the ruined furniture is piled on the curb. “I can’t believe it,” Leo says. “I didn’t know what to do. I could have never done all this, and you guys did in 30 minutes what would have taken me weeks.”
“That was a highlight,” says Austin as he walks away after shaking Leo’s hand. “He was so appreciative of what we did.”
“We didn’t need to get credit. But it was fun to meet Leo and see the look on his face and see how what we were doing was affecting him,” says Jake. “Maybe we left him with good feelings about the Church.”
After a couple of small jobs at other people’s homes, the boys find themselves amid the rubble of a house that was hit by a tornado that followed the hurricane. Many houses in the neighborhood are damaged. “It looks like a bomb went off,” says Austin, as he looks at a roof that was blown off a trailer.
He looks at Jake, grabs a claw hammer, and the two go to work. Austin figures that, even with help from adults, they could have the roof torn apart in about an hour. Four hours later the group is still hacking away trying to break the thing into pieces they can move. The sun is high in a cloudless sky. Temperatures are reaching the mid-90s, and the humidity is relentless. “This is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” says Austin of his work on the roof. “But it’s been a lot of fun.”
By the time the three had cut up the last piece of aluminum and hauled it to the huge pile near the street, Jake, Austin, and Travis look more than a little tired. They take a break to eat sandwiches and wash them down with their 8th or 11th or 18th (who can keep track?) bottle of water. Rejuvenated, it’s on to another job. Once they’re done there, it’s time to think about getting ready for a two-hour meeting the three want to attend.
It’s October 2, and the priesthood session of general conference begins in about two hours. There will be very few white shirts and ties this night. It is a come-as-you-are affair for priesthood holders.
“I’m totally beat,” says Jake. “We’re all dirty, most of us haven’t showered, and some of us are still in our work clothes. But it’s cool to look around and see all these boys and men in the chapel for priesthood meeting who have been working all day.”
It’s then that the three young men stop and think about their experience with Leo. Jake, Austin, and Travis are grateful to be seated in the air-conditioned chapel ready for the priesthood session. But they know the priesthood was really in action a few hours earlier when they were sweating, working, serving, and smiling the entire time.

I have discussed the duty of priesthood leaders and members to care for their families, quorums, wards, and stakes. I should like now to discuss another aspect of priesthood responsibility, which is our privilege to sustain those in authority over us. Wilford Woodruff recorded a remarkable account which illustrates the importance of this responsibility.
In the early days of the Church, President Brigham Young asked Wilford Woodruff to take his family to Boston and gather the Saints from New England and Canada and send them to Zion. With a company of 100, they arrived at Pittsburgh at sundown. Brother Woodruff recorded:
“We did not want to stay there, so I went to the first steamboat that was going to leave. I saw the captain and engaged passage for us on that steamer. I had only just done so when the spirit said to me, … ‘Don’t go aboard that steamer, nor your company.’ Of course, I went and spoke to the captain, and told him [that] I had made up my mind to wait.
“Well, that ship started, and had only got five miles down the river when it took fire, and three hundred persons were burned to death or drowned.” What if the Saints had not followed the counsel of Wilford Woodruff? All wisely chose to be obedient. Had they not done so, they would have perished.

Keslie B. loves a good story. When she’s not singing, swimming, or dancing ballet, she likes to read stories at her home in Brigham City, Utah. So when her grandma told her a story about an ancestor named Marie, Keslie wanted to go to the Family History Library to find out more.
Keslie was happy to learn how to do family history work and piece together the stories of some of her ancestors. But she won’t have to travel to Salt Lake City every time she wants to prepare an ancestor’s name for temple ordinances or do research—Keslie can do many things on her computer at home or at a nearby family history center. Now she can do family history work wherever she lives!
When Keslie walked into the library she saw a big painting called The Eternal Family through Christ. It shows Jesus Christ surrounded by prophets and people from different time periods. Everyone looks like one big family.
The service missionaries and library workers were happy to answer Keslie’s questions. There were so many neat things to see!
This big relationship chart was one of Keslie’s favorite things. She saw how many well-known people are related to each other.

What are you going to spend your Chinese New Year money on?
I’m going to buy a new jump rope.
I’m going to buy candy.
I’m going to buy a new bag.
I’m going to save it.
What should I do with my money?
I know what to do with some of my money first!
The next Sunday …
Thanks for your donation, Chung.
You’re welcome!
It feels good to pay my tithing first. I know it makes Heavenly Father happy.
This story took place in Taiwan. Chinese New Year will be on February 1 next year!

James got the job he wanted working at a grocery store in Deer Park, Washington. He first talked to the manager, and then he followed up by submitting an application. The manager noted that James would not work on Sunday and so he did not hire him. Yet James kept in touch with the store, and after a few days he was asked to work for two days on a trial basis. The owner of the store interviewed James and asked him why he would not work on Sunday. James told him it was part of the teachings of his church and he had made a personal commitment to try to keep the Sabbath holy. The owner was impressed, and James was hired—to work every day but Sunday.