Gospel Story Finder

Some of the information about the Church, no matter how convincing, is just not true. In 1985, I remember a colleague walking into my business office in Florida. He had a Time magazine article entitled “Challenging Mormonism’s Roots.” It spoke of a recently discovered letter, supposedly written by Martin Harris, that conflicted with Joseph Smith’s account of finding the Book of Mormon plates.

My colleague asked if this new information would destroy the Mormon Church. The article quoted a man who said he was leaving the Church over the document. Later, others reportedly left the Church. I’m sure it was a trial of their faith.

A few months later, experts discovered (and the forger confessed) that the letter was a complete fraud. I remember really hoping that those who had left the Church because of this deception would find their way back.

A few years ago our family had a faith-building experience. My dad, who is in the military, got called on deployment to Iraq for six months. He would leave in October and miss Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, Valentine’s Day, four kids’ birthdays (including my sister Danielle, who was going to wait until Dad got home to be baptized), and his anniversary. We were very sad. But we knew he had to go, and we said goodbye.
It was almost time for him to come home when he called us from Iraq and told us that he might have to stay for another six months to a year. We were very discouraged. He had already missed so much, and we didn’t want him to miss any more!
That night Mom came to us with a plan that we should fast and pray for Dad. We decided it was a good idea. The next day we woke up and got ready for school. It was the day we had chosen to fast. All through the day people were offering us food and asking if we were OK. We declined the offers because we knew that if we followed through with the fast, the Lord would bless us and comfort us with an understanding and acceptance of His will.
That afternoon, before we had broken our fast, our dad called and said that he had just received news that he would be coming home soon. We were so happy! We thanked Heavenly Father for blessing us in this way. Now when something is wrong, we remember to combine prayer with fasting. I will always remember this experience, and I will turn to Heavenly Father to help me.

On the birthdays of our children and grandchildren, my wife and I distribute a dollar for each year they have lived. I am 63 years old. An eight-year-old granddaughter had been worrying about the fact that I had just sent her $8 for her birthday but that she couldn’t afford to send me 63 one-dollar bills for my birthday.
Finally she hit upon a solution to her frustration. She said to our daughter, Annette, “Mom, I know how I can do for Grandfather what he does for us. I will send him one dollar for every 10 years he has lived. That’s six dollars and another three for the three of 63.” She sent me back her eight birthday dollars plus one extra, never caring she had lost a dollar in the transaction.

“You wouldn’t think it was funny if you had to dance with him,” said Lisa in a cross voice.
“I’m sorry, Lisa,” said Stephanie, smothering one last chuckle, “but I couldn’t help laughing because there was a time when I thought you had two left feet. Remember when we were learning to clog after third grade a couple of years ago?”
“Oh, yes,” said Lisa, thinking back. “Was I really that bad?” She thought some more, then admitted, “I guess I was before Tammy took over. She walked me through every step of that dance until I had it just right.”
“And now old Two-Left-Feet Lisa can dance,” said Stephanie with a friendly grin.

Eighteen-year-old Lilian Fernanda Pereira Santos of the Tijuca Ward, Rio de Janeiro Brazil Andaraí Stake, is one of the young Brazilians trying to walk by faith.
Sometimes when she politely declines invitations to parties where she knows the activities will not meet gospel standards, her friends at school say sarcastically, “Yes, we know—you’re a little saint.” Recently there was a particular party she felt she might safely attend, but her mother’s counsel and a Sunday School lesson led her to reconsider taking a chance on it. The lesson quoted a scripture, Mosiah 2:41, that is cited in her patriarchal blessing: “Consider … the blessed and happy state of those that keep the commandments of God. … If they hold out faithful to the end they are received into heaven.”
Fernanda says having friends she can associate with in her early-morning seminary class makes it easier to live the gospel and find wholesome activities. She used to be the only Latter-day Saint in her school, but now there is one more—a young woman, recently baptized, whom Fernanda introduced to the gospel by inviting her to seminary.

When I was a kid, my friends and I played a game called “Jump or Dive.” Basically, all you need is a deep pool or lake and something to jump off of, like a diving board. To play, you launch yourself off the diving board. Right as you do, someone yells, “jump,” which means you need to enter the water feet first, or “dive,” which means you need to enter the water hands first, in a dive.
When you try to react in midair, you usually end up resembling a flapping pretzel or doing a very painful belly flop.
Life doesn’t have to be a game of “Jump or Dive.” You can make a lot of decisions much earlier and avoid a lot of spiritual belly flops. The Old Testament prophet Joshua didn’t say, “Choose just before it’s too late.” He said, “Choose you this day whom ye will serve” (Joshua 24:15; emphasis added).
Will W., 14, from San Francisco, California, USA, probably doesn’t do many spiritual belly flops because he believes in making choices before the last minute.
“If you make the choice to do or not to do something before it even comes up, it makes things a lot easier,” he says. “Say you went to a party and someone offered you a drink. If you had to choose right then to take it or not, you might be tempted to take it. But if you had decided a long time ago to say no if anyone ever offered you a drink, you’d feel a lot surer of yourself. You wouldn’t even have time to be tempted. You’d say no because you had already decided to a long time ago.”
The 2018 Mutual theme says, “Learn of me, and listen to my words; walk in the meekness of my Spirit, and you shall have peace in me” (D&C 19:23). For Will, peace means feeling confident as he chooses the right and not worrying about negative comments from others. That peace comes to Will from making the decision to listen to—and obey—Jesus Christ’s words in advance.
“Sometimes kids give me a hard time for what I do or don’t do, but it doesn’t really bother me because I decided a long time ago that that is how I would live,” he says.
One thing Will and his family decided a long time ago was to keep the Sabbath day holy. That got a little tricky when Will made an elite football team. But, like Nephi, his family believes that “the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them” (1 Nephi 3:7).
To Will, football is just about everything. As his mom says, “He eats, drinks, sleeps, and just loves, loves football. It’s his passion and he’s very good.”
So when Will made one of the highest-ranking teams in the area, he was thrilled. The only problem: the team played many of its games on Sundays. Most teams wouldn’t accept a player who would miss every Sunday game. Choosing not to play on Sundays could mean losing his spot on the team.
But Will had made that decision a long time ago. He would keep the Sabbath day holy.
Will and his family prayed together and told Heavenly Father of their desire to keep His commandments and asked for His help. Then Will and his mother talked to the coaches of the team about their beliefs. To their surprise, the coaches wanted Will on the team even if he didn’t play on Sundays!
“I know that when I honor the Sabbath, I am blessed,” Will says. “I may not get to play as many games as the others, but I’ve seen blessings, like Sunday games suddenly getting changed to another day. I also think I play better because I have a day of rest.”
It gets better. Will soon found out that one of his teammates was also member of the Church. After a few months of playing together, the other boy followed Will’s example and stopped playing on Sunday too.
If you feel like you are not receiving the blessings of obedience, that might be because you can’t see all that Heavenly Father has in store for you. Deciding to listen to Christ’s words and to serve the Lord is always the right decision, so make it now!
“I plead with you to make a determination right here, right now, not to deviate from the path which will lead to our goal: eternal life with our Father in Heaven,” said President Thomas S. Monson (“The Three Rs of Choice,” Liahona, Nov. 2010, 68).
Don’t make your life a game of “Jump or Dive.” Don’t risk spiritual or any other kinds of belly flops. Decide right now to follow Jesus Christ and enjoy the peace He brings into your life.

During a special Church conference held on April 6, 1881, branch president Silviano Arteaga, several local leaders, and Apostle Moses Thatcher (1842–1909) climbed the slope of the volcano Mt. Popocatépetl. Elder Thatcher then dedicated the land for the preaching of the gospel.

At the conference President Arteaga prayed, and Elder Thatcher related: “Tears flowed down his wrinkled cheeks, for the deliverance of his race and people. … I never heard any man pray more earnestly, and though praying in a language which I do not comprehend, yet I seemed to understand by the Spirit, all that he was pleading for.”2

He walked into a little classroom in the Philippines to be interviewed in preparation for receiving the Melchizedek Priesthood. I didn’t know how old he was, but even the older members of the branch called him Tatay (father).
When I asked whether he would be able to understand my English, he smiled warmly and replied with careful diction, “Yes, I will.”
After our interview I asked him if there was any reason he should not be ordained to the priesthood. After a moment he said, “Perhaps I should not receive the priesthood.”
Puzzled, I asked, “What do you mean?”
“I have only one tooth,” he replied. “I know I don’t look very good to receive the priesthood. It is all right if you tell me I cannot have the priesthood.”
We sat for a moment while I pondered his comment, tears welling up in my eyes. Then I put my hand on his hand and told him that I had seen many wonderful priesthood holders who had lost their hair, but he had beautiful, thick black hair. I also told him of priesthood holders who had only one ear or one eye, but he had both of his eyes and ears.
I then told him of a friend of mine who had lost his arm to cancer. When that brother had prayed in our home and had asked Heavenly Father to bless my wife and children, I knew he was a great servant of the Lord. I told Tatay how this friend had placed his only hand on the head of a little girl to bless her because she was dying and that I had felt the power of the priesthood that day.
This elderly Filipino smiled and said, “I hope my service to God will also be acceptable.”

Forty-seven years ago this general conference, I was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. At the time, I had been serving on one of the general priesthood committees of the Church, and so before my name was presented, I sat with my fellow members of that priesthood committee, as was expected of me. My wife, however, had no idea where to go and no one with whom she could sit and, in fact, was unable to find a seat anywhere in the Tabernacle. A dear friend of ours, who was a member of one of the general auxiliary boards and who was sitting in the area designated for the board members, asked Sister Monson to sit with her. This woman knew nothing of my call—which would be announced shortly—but she spotted Sister Monson, recognized her consternation, and graciously offered her a seat. My dear wife was relieved and grateful for this kind gesture. Sitting down, however, she heard loud whispering behind her as one of the board members expressed her annoyance to those around her that one of her fellow board members would have the audacity to invite an “outsider” to sit in this area reserved only for them. There was no excuse for her unkind behavior, regardless of who might have been invited to sit there. However, I can only imagine how that woman felt when she learned that the “intruder” was the wife of the newest Apostle.

I relearned something else. Once before I had painted a picture inspired by comments that I heard when I was a boy. It depicted the Willard Peaks. I had heard the older folks refer to them as The Presidency. These three gigantic, solid peaks standing against the sky typified the leaders of the Church.
That was nine years ago. My son had taken me to Willard and photographed the peaks. We went back a second time when there would be more shadow and contrast.
After those years I had to awaken that which I had let go dormant. At first it was a terrible struggle. I threatened to quit several times. One of my friends urged me on by saying, “Go ahead! There’s always plenty of room at the bottom.”
I did not quit, simply because my wife would not give me permission to do so. I am glad I didn’t now. Perhaps, now that I am into it again, I’ll do another painting sometime—who knows.
I suppose trying to get back into painting is not unlike someone who has been inactive in the Church for many years and decides to return to the fold. There is that period of struggle in getting the feel for what has lain dormant but is not really lost. And it helps to have a friend or two.
That is another principle of learning—drawing lessons from ordinary experience in life.

My parents joined the Church when I was young. We were in a small branch in Australia. My mother played the piano at church. But she could play only a few of the hymns. I was learning to play the piano too. When I was seven, the branch president asked me to play at church.
When I played the piano in church, I made mistakes. And when I made a mistake, I would cry. I was very shy and nervous. But I kept practicing. I wanted to play the hymns well. Now I love to play the piano! I can play all of the hymns.

One afternoon my mission companion and I unexpectedly found ourselves with an extra block of time and were discussing what we should do. We were assigned to a United States Army base in western Germany, and as we drove to the base, I pulled out a list of all the branch members there. On the bottom of the list was a name that I had penciled in just the day before. It was the name of a less-active member who was living on the base alone while he waited for his family to arrive from the United States. The branch president had given his name to us and asked us to find the brother and invite him to the next week’s stake conference. I said a silent prayer that we would be able to find and invite him.
When we entered the base, I received an interesting impression that we should go buy batteries. I shared the impression with my companion, and he drove us to a small electronics store. We quickly found our batteries and were standing in line when I bumped into one of the soldiers standing there. Fortunately for us, all U.S. soldiers have their last names stitched onto the front of their uniforms. My spirits soared as I saw that he had the last name of the man we were looking for. His eyes grew wide in recognition as he exclaimed, “Elders! It’s good to see you. I had been praying that you would find me.”
With the Spirit’s guidance, my companion and I were able to bring that brother to stake conference and help him become firmly rooted in the branch before the rest of his family arrived. I know that if we, like Nephi, let ourselves be “led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which [we] should do” (1 Nephi 4:6), then Heavenly Father will allow us to be tools in His hands to bless others, especially his fallen sparrows.

Many years ago my children and I hiked to the top of South Sister, a 10,358-foot (3,157 m) mountain in Oregon. After several hours we encountered a long 45-degree slope of tiny volcanic pebbles. With the summit in sight, we pressed on only to find that with every step, our feet would sink in the pebbles, causing us to slide backward several inches. My 12-year-old son forged ahead as I stayed with my 8-year-old daughter. Fatigue and discouragement soon set in, and she was heartbroken, thinking that she might not join her brother at the top. My first impulse was to carry her. My spirit was willing, but sadly my flesh was weak. We sat down on the rocks, assessed our situation, and devised a new plan. I told her to put her hands in my back pants pockets, hold on tight, and—most important—as soon as I lifted my foot to take a step, she should quickly put her foot in its place. She mirrored my every move and relied on the lift that came from hanging on to my pockets. After what seemed like an eternity, we made it to the top of the mountain. Her expression of triumph and satisfaction was priceless. And yes, she and her brother were, in my estimation, real hikers.
With the current conditions of the world, we desperately need real learning and teaching in our homes, meetings, and gospel classes. I know that your quest to improve may seem overwhelming at times. Please do not become discouraged with your progress. I think back on my experience hiking with my children. We agreed that every time we stopped to catch our breath, rather than focusing exclusively on how much farther we needed to go, we would immediately turn around and look down the mountain. We would take in the scenery and say to each other, “Look how far we’ve come.” Then we would take a deep breath, quickly turn, face uphill, and start climbing again one step at a time. Brothers and sisters, you can parent, lead, and teach after the manner of the workings of the Spirit. I know you can do this. I testify you can do this, and lives will change.

I testify that one right decision can bring about a multitude of blessings. That has been my experience. Up until I was 18, good choices were hit and miss, mostly miss. At 20, while many small decisions led up to it, against all odds, I decided to serve a mission. That was the turning point for me. In His tender mercies, the Lord plucked me out of darkness and sent me on a mission to Korea. I left an entire family who was less than less active. You heard the story of my mother's return. The same happened to my entire family. They all came back to Church and entered the temple, partly because of my decision to serve a mission. Only the Lord could do that. I am eternally grateful. Now, I'm trying to keep my commitment to be and do whatever the Lord commands.

In our own dispensation, specifically on July 30, 1837, the efforts to establish the Church in Preston, England, were met with vociferous opposition by Satan. Elders Heber C. Kimball and Orson Hyde (both members of the Quorum of the Twelve), along with Elders Willard Richards and Isaac Russell, had arrived in Preston as missionaries, but eight days earlier. They had already prepared nine souls for baptism on that Sunday morning, July 30, 1837.

Prior to the baptisms, Elder Russell became ill and sought a blessing under the hands of the two Apostles, Elders Heber C. Kimball and Orson Hyde. Elder Kimball was acting as voice. He later described the event as follows:

While thus engaged, I was struck with great force by some invisible power, and fell senseless to the floor. … Elder Hyde and Richards then assisted me to get on the bed. … I … sat up on the bed, when a vision was opened to our minds, and we could distinctly see the evil spirits, who foamed and gnashed their teeth at us. We gazed upon them about an hour and a half. … we saw the devils coming in legions, with their leaders, who came within a few feet of us. … They appeared to be men of full stature, possessing every form and feature of men in the flesh, who were angry and desperate; and I shall never forget the vindictive malignity depicted on their countenances as they looked me in the eye. … I cannot even look back on the scene without feelings of horror; yet by it I learned of the power of the adversary, his enmity against the servants of God, and got some understanding of the invisible world. We distinctly heard those spirits talk and express their wrath and hellish designs against us. However, the Lord delivered us from them, and blessed us exceedingly that day.[7]

Despite the opposition of Satan, the nine baptisms did occur as planned on that Sunday morning some 170 years ago. When Heber C. Kimball returned to America, he narrated the experience with Satan’s legions to the Prophet Joseph. Heber asked what it meant and whether there was something wrong with Heber that he should have such a manifestation. Joseph’s reply was:

No, Brother Heber, at that time you were nigh unto the Lord; there was only a veil between you and [Christ], but you could not see Him. When I heard of it, it gave me great joy, for I then knew that the work of God had taken root in that land. It was this that caused the devil to make a struggle to kill you.[8]

Listen to the words of a beautiful woman who gained this awareness as she struggled with her own self-worth and understanding of who she was:
As a convert, the hymn “God Loved Us, So He Sent His Son” was sung at the very first sacrament meeting I attended as a brand-new member of the Church. For the first 18 years of my life I struggled with my worth and with who I was and what my importance was to anyone. I had been told I was the ugliest girl in my school, and I carried that label with me for many years. As I took the missionary discussions, I learned enough of the gospel plan to know it was true and right. At my first sacrament meeting when the third verse of that hymn was sung, I knew in that moment for the first time who I really was and what my importance was. That moment changed everything for me. Nothing on the outside changed, but everything on the inside did. I was part of His plan, His offering. And I hold a place within His Heart. [Personal communication]

The following is an account written by our daughter Emily who with her husband, Jon, just had their first baby, Elijah Holland Pfeifer. Please excuse this personal reference to family, but there is a lesson here for all of us about trust, fidelity, love, and romance. Emily wrote this a few months ago as a tribute to her husband. She entitles it, "Jon and I at the Play."

"A few months after our wedding Jon and I were invited to a play. The tickets were very expensive and we felt spoiled to be able to dress up in fancy clothes and attend this show we had heard was brilliantly hilarious."

"When we arrived at the grand theater we eagerly took our seats, full of anticipation. The first two acts were very witty and fabulously performed. But unexpectedly, early into the third act the language and the humor turned very crude and cheap. The heroine began to take off her clothing piece by piece, leaving her in only skimpy underwear as she acted out various vulgar antics across the stage. My eyes immediately shot to the floor and tears began to form in my eyes. I felt trapped. \"I hate to be in these kinds of situations!\" I thought angrily. I didn't want to offend the kind people sitting next to us who had paid for the evening, and dreaded the thought of arising and swishing off in what could be interpreted as a self righteous, \"holier than thou\" exit. \"Heavenly Father, please,\" I pleaded in my mind, \"help me know what to do right now!\""

"Suddenly in my torture, I felt a warm hand cover mine. I looked at Jon. Our eyes met. He gripped my hand tightly and lifted me up. Without any pomp or ceremony he quietly guided me to the aisle and we walked out of the theater together. We walked out into the moonlit courtyard, neither of us saying a word. We stopped under a tree and Jon took me into his arms. After a few more moments of silence he whispered, \"I don't ever want to see anyone dressed like that except for you.\""

"I can't express what that did for me as a new bride, still getting to know my husband's character. Indescribable trust, respect and love filled my whole body and made my heart burn. My mom has told me ever since I was a little girl that righteous men are the most romantic men on earth. That night her words resonated in my mind, and I knew she was right. Witnessing my husband regard me and the Lord in this way was truly one of the most romantic moments of my life and made me fall in love with him even more deeply. He made me feel safe and adored."

"Perhaps the reason why this experience is still so precious to me almost three years later is because Jon has continued displaying this type of purity and honor every day of our marriage. This was not just an isolated event when he chose to display some heroic act of morality. Anytime we have encountered anything obscene or tempting in that way, or even if we just see a beautiful woman, he always turns away—towards me."

“Look! There she is—let’s get her!”
Mrs. Goodson was outside, calling her kitten. “Ready, set—now!” the boys started to pelt the elderly lady with snowballs that they had been making.
Startled, Mrs. Goodson turned towards her attackers. “You boys—get on to school! Stop that!” One of the snowballs hit a stinging blow to her forehead. She cried out.
“We’d better get out of here!”
Most of the boys ran off, but one of them hesitated. He had seen Mrs. Goodson fall. A hard tug on his sleeve spun him around.
“C’mon, Jake! She’ll be OK. But we won’t if we go back there. Come on!”
Jake joined the others as they ran to school.
All day long, though, Jake couldn’t get Mrs. Goodson out of his mind. He kept remembering the way she fell—and the way he ran away. He’d pass her house on the way home from school. He wanted to see if she was all right, but he was afraid. He knew that what they had done was wrong.
Jake had moved to town right before school started. His next-door neighbor was the first boy he’d met who was his own age, and Jake had begun hanging around with him and his friends, even though he often felt uncomfortable around them. Sometimes they did mean things to people and thought it was funny. Sometimes they talked about cutting school or doing things even worse. Jake realized that he’d better find some new friends before he got in trouble with them—if it wasn’t already too late. …
As he turned the corner, a boy that Jake remembered seeing at school was coming out of Mrs. Goodson’s garage. The boy was holding a gray-and-white kitten.
“Hi, Jake.” The boy hurried toward Jake, who stood on the other side of Mrs. Goodson’s fence. “Do you live around here? Do you remember me? I’m Jeremy Slater. We have science class together.” The boy’s nose was red from the cold, but his smile was genuine and his eyes were friendly.
“Sure—hi, Jeremy. Yeah, I live just down the street. Do you live here?”
“No, my grandma lives here, and I’m staying with her after school until my mom gets off work. Do you want to come in? We’ll have to be quiet, because my grandma isn’t feeling well today.”
Jake studied the snow on the fence post. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Some punk kids threw snowballs at her this morning. One of them hit her in the head, and she fell. She had to get a cast on her ankle—I guess she broke it when she fell.”
Jake swallowed hard. “I’m sorry to hear that. But I’d better get going. My mother gets upset if I’m late coming home from school. See you.” Jake ran almost all the way home.
That night, Jake knelt to pray. He hadn’t prayed much in his life, but he was troubled, and he hoped that prayer would help. His family didn’t have a regular church they attended, and most of their prayers were at the dinner table. He had heard that some people prayed both at night and in the morning, that they talked to God like He really listened and would help them.
Jake didn’t know where to begin, so he just bowed his head and started to talk to Heavenly Father. He prayed for help in finding new friends. He prayed for Mrs. Goodson. He prayed for the heavy feeling inside of him to go away. He fell asleep later that night with a strange warmness about him—the way he’d felt when he was little and fell asleep in his mother’s arms.
The next morning, Saturday, he remembered everything that had happened the day before. He made up his mind to apologize to Mrs. Goodson.
When his chores were done, he told his mother where he’d be. His heart raced as he approached Mrs. Goodson’s house. He hoped that Jeremy wouldn’t be there. It was going to be hard enough to talk to Mrs. Goodson, and he figured that he’d eventually have to tell Jeremy, too. Jake liked Jeremy and hoped that they could be friends. But if Jeremy knows that I was one of the boys who threw snowballs at his grandma, Jake thought, he won’t want to have anything to do with me.
It was Jeremy who answered the doorbell. “Hi, Jake. Come on in.”
Jake stepped into the hallway but stayed next to the door. “Actually, Jeremy, I came to see your grandmother. Can she have company?”
“She’d love it! Grandma’s cool. She’s fun to be around.” Jeremy led the way into the living room, where his grandmother was sitting with her leg propped up on pillows, the kitten beside her.
“I didn’t know you knew Grandma. Come on in.”
Mrs. Goodson’s cast was bright white except for the large Jeremy scrawled on it with a bright blue marker. She set aside the afghan she’d been working on and looked up at Jake.
“Hello, Mrs. Goodson, I’m Jake Lowder.” Jake took a deep breath. “I’m one of the boys who hurt you yesterday, and I’m sorry. I don’t know why it happened. …” He stood there staring down at his feet, waiting to be thrown out of the house. Or yelled at. Or something.
“Jeremy, why don’t you go into the kitchen and start some popcorn and hot chocolate for you boys. I’d like to speak to Jake alone.” Mrs. Goodson smiled at her grandson. “It will be all right.”
Jake saw the shock on Jeremy’s face and watched him head reluctantly toward the kitchen, glancing back to make sure that his grandmother really would be OK.
“Jake, sit down.” She patted the stool next to her ankle. “It took a lot of courage for you to come see me today. Do you want to tell me about it?”
Jake nodded, but he had a hard time speaking. He hadn’t expected to be treated this nicely. He was in the middle of his story when Jeremy poked his head in the doorway. Jake motioned for him to come in, feeling it would be easier to explain everything to both of them at once.
“You see, Mrs. Goodson, I never meant any harm. I’ve already decided not to hang around with those guys anymore.” He hesitated, then blurted out, “I even prayed about you last night.”
“Tell me, Jake,” Mrs. Goodson said. “Tell me about your prayer. What church does your family go to?”
Jake explained that his family didn’t have a regular church. He told her what he’d heard about prayer, and he shared some of what he prayed about with her.
“Jake, in our church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we call what you’re doing ‘repentance.’ Do you know what repentance is?”
Jake nodded. “It means to feel bad about something you’ve done wrong and to not do it again.”
Mrs. Goodson smiled. “That’s right, Jake. You have already admitted that you have done something wrong, and you have prayed for forgiveness. Now you are asking me to forgive you. Do you see that your prayers are being answered?” Mrs. Goodson smiled again.
Jake raised his head. “Is there anything else I should do, Mrs. Goodson?”
“Yes, Jake, two things. One you’ve also already done—you’ve promised to never again throw snowballs to hurt someone. The last thing is to try to make restitution to that person whom you have wronged. Do you know what restitution is?”
Jake shook his head.
“‘Restitution’ means to compensate for—make up for—anything you have done wrong or said or damaged.”
Jake looked up at her. How could he make up for what he had done to her?
“I know that sometimes that can be hard to do, Jake, but it is important.” Mrs. Goodson smiled. “I know—I’m going to need help around the house for a while. How do you feel about coming over and helping me every day until my ankle is better?”
Jake’s face lit up. He really liked Mrs. Goodson and Jeremy. It wouldn’t be hard at all to come over and help!
The rest of the afternoon went by quickly. As he and Jeremy swept the floors and helped get Mrs. Goodson’s supper for her, they became friends. As Jake left, he heard Jeremy and his grandmother talk about getting ready for church the next day. Jake decided that he wanted to hear more about their church.
When Jake arrived home, he told his parents everything that had happened—throwing snowballs, Mrs. Goodson’s fall, and his need to pray. He told them how forgiving Mrs. Goodson was, and he asked permission to spend time helping her. He also asked if he could talk to Mrs. Goodson more about her church.
Monday morning Jake woke up to fresh snow on the ground. That meant he’d need to get over to Mrs. Goodson’s house right away to shovel her walk before school. Maybe Jeremy would be there, too. He smiled. If he hurried, he’d probably have time to talk to them before he went to school. He was going to see if they’d tell his whole family about their church. He smiled again. He just knew that it would be a wonderful day!

As time passed, I inclined more towards God. I was diligent in reading the scriptures, attending church, and doing prayers. However, my fiancé, who was a recent convert, requested that I visit the Mormon Church. With lots of struggles in my life as well as being a longtime investigator, I finally became a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Later, we got married in the Hong Kong China Temple. Today, I am blessed with a happy family with a wife and two beautiful children.
We always try our best to follow the teachings of the Church. My parents used to observe us. After a while, I invited my parents to come to church with us. Following many discussions, my mother became a member of the Church.

I’ll never forget the first time I saw a meal made of sea biscuit broken into milk. I had called at Uncle Brigham’s tent—I had always addressed him by that title—where he was just taking some for dinner, and he invited me to have a bowl; but I declined, with thanks, and a feeling of wonder how he could relish it. When it came to sitting down daily to milk and water porridge and crackers in it, it became so nauseous that hunger could not tempt me to eat it. —from the writings of Helen Mar Whitney