Gospel Story Finder

Among the vocational courses Sig Verano completed in his wide-ranging studies was one in real estate sales. It led to a profitable new career—and to further strengthening of his testimony.
His sales career didn’t begin well. He was fired after only one week when the owner of the real estate agency learned the new salesman’s religion following Brother Verano’s refusal to work on Sunday.
“The gospel is so important in our lives that Sunday is empty if we can’t go to Church meetings,” he explains. But the owner of the real estate company said that the Mormons put too much time into Church service to be successful. Go work for a small agency where the owner will not care so much about sales success, he told Sig Verano.
Brother Verano took the dismissal as a challenge. He found a job with a larger agency, and, working only part-time in 1979, was its top salesman. He has consistently refused to work on Sundays; as branch president and bishop, he also devoted part of his Saturdays to Church service. Yet for several years he has been among the company’s top five salespeople.

Joel wheeled his new red bicycle expertly into the driveway, lowered its kickstand with his heel, and bounded into the kitchen. “Is Willie hungry yet, Mom?” he asked. “Do you think it’s time to feed him again?”
His mother, who was scraping carrots, nodded. “Yes, he’s been calling for his supper,” she answered.
Joel reached gently for the small box on top of the water heater in the laundry room. It was faintly warm to the touch, just about the right temperature for a baby bird. He lifted the top off the box. Willie, still quite featherless, crouched in one corner of his paper-napkin nest. But when the lid was lifted, the young bird craned his thin neck and was suddenly all mouth.
“You look like you’re hungry enough to eat a whole sack full of worms!” Joel said with a smile. Willie was important to Joel, because the boy lived with his parents at Crest View, a new apartment complex where the tenants were not permitted to keep a dog or a cat for a pet. But there was no restriction about keeping birds, and when Joel had rescued Willie from the front lawn several days ago, his first thought was, Now I have a pet!
“You know, Mom,” Joel confided as he spread newspapers on the kitchen floor, “I think I love Willie just about more than anything in the world.”
“More than your new bike?” Mom asked in amazement.
Joel frowned. “Well … that’s different. Everybody’s got a bike. But nobody else in Crest View has a baby sparrow that he rescued all by himself!” Willie had tumbled from his mother’s nest high on the corner light pole, and Joel had carried him home to the apartment in his hands.
From a cardboard carton, Joel took some grubs and worms and put them on the newspapers. Then, with a pair of tweezers, he carefully dropped these morsels into Willie’s gaping mouth. “I think Willie’s forgotten he’s an orphan, Mom. And when he gets bigger, we can buy a birdcage for him and I can keep him forever.”
“Forever is an awfully long time, Joel,” his mother replied quietly.
Joel glanced at her, puzzled by her thoughtful tone. “Do you mean I can’t keep Willie?” Joel asked.
“Willie is a wild creature, son,” Mom explained. “In a little while, he’ll want to be out-of-doors, to be free.”
But Joel lowered his eyes and set his jaw. No, he vowed silently, Willie is my pet, and I’m going to keep him forever!
As the summer days passed, Willie quickly acquired tail feathers and some soft gray down on his naked breast. It soon became obvious that his cardboard home was too cramped for him to live in much longer.
“We’ve just got to buy Willie a cage Mom,” Joel declared at last.
The supper dishes clinked in the sink, and his mother turned toward her son with a little smile. “I think Willie really wants to be free, Joel,” she reminded him softly.
“But, Mom, Willie doesn’t even know how to fly!” Joel protested. “Something might happen to him, something terrible!” The thought of it made Joel’s eyes sting.
He looked fondly at Willie. But something had changed, he had to admit. Willie’s eyes seemed dull. His feathers were droopy. He refused to chirp anymore. His appetite had waned. “Are you sure it would be all right if we let him go?” Joel asked at last.
It would really be easier if Mom would just order me to turn Willieloose, Joel thought. Then I wouldn’t have to decide what to do myself.
But Mom only smiled again and looked out the kitchen window at Joel’s bicycle. “Do you remember how you learned to ride your bike?” she asked.
Joel pondered a moment. What a silly question! “Well … I just tried!” he exclaimed indignantly. How well he could remember the first time he rode alone down Butler’s Hill—the wind tore at his hair, pressed the breath back in his throat. The thrill of that day rushed back to him. It was just like having wings, he realized. It was just like flying!
Without another word, Joel lifted the sparrow’s box down from its familiar place on the water heater and carried it out in front of the apartment. With tender fingers he lifted Willie from his napkin nest. The young bird hopped curiously across Joel’s open palm.
Joel held Willie a few inches above the grass. The bird tottered, spread his wings in vain, and plopped awkwardly onto the lawn. “You have to try,” Joel encouraged him. “You have to try, Willie.”
The next time, Willie spread his wings and landed gracefully several feet away. Then Joel picked Willie up again, lifted him high, and gave him a gentle boost into the evening air. The little bird sailed away, over the vacant lot across the street and out to the golden haze of wild clover at the edge of the road. “Good-bye, Willie,” Joel called softly. “Good-bye!”
Joel closed up the empty nest and returned to the kitchen where Mom was waiting. From the open window they could both hear Willie’s chirp grow fainter and fainter in the distance. Joel smiled to himself as he remembered that first ride down Butler’s Hill.
Suddenly he felt happy.
“Now Willie has wings, too,” he murmured.

Many examples coming into the Relief Society general offices are showing that this is happening. Gail McHardy, Relief Society president in the Houston Branch, St. Robert Missouri Stake, made coming up with ideas a matter of prayer with her counselors. “The Spirit was certainly there to help us,” she said during a telephone conversation.

Then, with the support of the branch president, she presented the ideas to the sisters in the ward. She was surprised when the most popular activity was a class in American Sign Language. Another sister in the branch had taken sign language courses and agreed to teach the classes.

“The branch president has agreed to let them sign with the choir soon,” Sister McHardy said. She added that one sister had recently returned to Church activity and by participating in the class “she felt much more a part of Relief Society.”

I know all of this for myself. While recovering from surgery to remove two sizeable brain tumors, I experienced periods of melancholy and dismay from the emotional and mental impact of it all. I discovered that I was not as invincible as I once thought I was. Medication did not help, and a relapse or two brought additional despondency. I began to feel sorry for myself.

Then some wonderful things began to happen. Good friends and trusted Church leaders offered their support and understanding, and I began to listen to their counsel and accept their encouragement. Late one night as I shared my gloomy feelings with our youngest son, he said, “Well, Dad, I have always thought that happiness is a decision.” He is right.

I found myself increasingly expressing gratitude for all the blessings I still enjoyed. I discovered for myself that “this kind [of trial] goeth not out but by prayer and fasting” (Matthew 17:21).

I felt the strength, refreshing power, and love of the Savior. With Paul, I came to rejoice in the knowledge that tribulation, distress, and peril could not separate me from the love of Christ (see Romans 8:35).

Fast forward 12 years from my graduation day. I was having a moment of discouragement. Life seemed too full. Motherhood had been more challenging than I had anticipated. I sat at my easel crying, wondering if I would ever really be able to become the great artist I had dreamed of being. I felt impressed to pull my old journal off the shelf, and I turned to my entry on April 30, 2006, the day after my graduation. I had totally forgotten my remarkable experience with President Nelson! Somehow the whirlwind of life had almost eroded it from my memory. There before me were words from the current prophet, “Absolutely!” The tears turned to ones of gratitude as I looked back at all I had been able to accomplish since that time, and I also looked forward with hope.

I used to have a hard time reading, and I was really self-conscious about it. I wouldn’t read in class because it was hard for me to sound out some of the words, and I was afraid to read out loud because the kids in school would tease me because I couldn’t understand what I was reading. It was hard for me to make friends, too, because my family moved around a lot. Then my family moved to Oregon, USA.
One of my new neighbors quickly became one of my best friends. He encouraged me to go to church. The guys there didn’t tease me like the kids in school did. They took it upon themselves during church to help me read the scriptures. They spent the time to help me learn to read the words I couldn’t sound out. Slowly, they gave me the courage to read out loud. From that day on I would read even if it would take half the class time for me to read what the teacher asked me to read.
I was blessed with these great guys who took me under their wings. They didn’t have to do this for me, and they could’ve stayed silent, but following the Spirit, they made a choice to help me and made a difference in my life. We too can make a difference in others’ lives; we just have to be willing to listen to the Spirit to guide us to those people who are in need of help.

One convert, Special Constable Frankie Png, joined the Church a little over a year ago. He says, “At first, my associates tried to make me feel uncomfortable. But I always try to be patient and encourage them to live better lives. I also encourage my Muslim friends to live their religion more fully. Most respect my beliefs now.” Because of his fine example, his mother and brother were recently baptized.

Over 50 years ago, I had the privilege to serve as the president of Ricks College in Rexburg, Idaho. On the morning of June 5, 1976, my wife, Kathy, and I drove from Rexburg to the Idaho Falls Idaho Temple to attend the sealing of a close friend. Of course, with four young boys in our home at the time, our temple trip could be only accomplished with the help of a courageous babysitter! We left our precious children in her care and made the short, 30-minute drive.

Our experience in the temple that day was wonderful, as it always was. However, after the conclusion of the temple sealing—and as we were preparing to return home—we noticed many temple workers and patrons nervously conversing in the lobby of the temple. Within moments, one of the temple workers told us that the newly constructed Teton Dam in eastern Idaho had collapsed! More than 80 billion gallons (300 million cubic meters) of water were flowing through the dam and into the 300 square miles (775 square km) of neighboring valleys. Much of the city of Rexburg was underwater, with homes and vehicles carried away by floodwaters. Two-thirds of the 9,000 residents were suddenly homeless.

As you might imagine, our thoughts and concerns turned to the safety of our dear children, hundreds of college students and faculty, and a community we loved. We were less than 30 miles (50 km) from home, and yet on this day, long before cell phones and text messaging, we had no way of communicating immediately with our children, nor could we make the drive from Idaho Falls to Rexburg, as all the roads had been closed.

Our only option was to stay the night in a local motel in Idaho Falls. Kathy and I knelt together in our motel room and humbly pleaded with Heavenly Father for the safety of our dear children and the thousands of others affected by the tragic event. I recall Kathy pacing the floors into the early hours of the morning with worry about her children. Despite my own concerns, I was able to put my mind at ease and fall asleep.

It wasn’t long thereafter that my sweet eternal companion woke me and said, “Hal, how can you sleep at a time like this?”

These words then came clearly to my heart and mind. I said to my wife: “Kathy, whatever the outcome, all will be well because of the temple. We have made covenants with God and have been sealed as an eternal family.”

At that moment, it was as if the Spirit of the Lord confirmed in our hearts and minds what we both already knew to be true: the sealing ordinances, found only in the house of the Lord and administered by proper priesthood authority, had bound us together as husband and wife, and our children had been sealed to us. There truly was no need to fear, and we were grateful later to learn that our boys were safe.

By Peter V. Hilton
“We’re going to discuss section 64 tomorrow, so you had better read section 64 tonight!” As always, Sister Dorff was adamant.
Early-morning seminary. To my sophomore mind, the idea was laughable. Between writing, directing, and acting in my own play, trumpet lessons, piano practice, and eight high school classes every day, there was barely time to sleep. But guilt won out over math, and I decided to put scripture study in the 25th hour of my daily allotment of 24.
“Who read their scriptures?” Sister Dorff asked the next morning. She was answered by a smattering of raised hands. “Tell me what you read.”
“Well …” I blinked away the morning bleariness. “It was the word of God, as revealed to Joseph Smith.” Nobody had a better answer; Sister Dorff scowled. More lecture, more please-read-your-scriptures.
It was the same the next morning. “Who read their scriptures?” Again, a couple of hands went up. “Well, our lesson is going to take two days, so congratulations! You have no reading tonight.” Tired cheers went up. “The rest of you need to not ‘procrastinate the day of your repentance.’” Then she added, “Please read your scriptures.”
That night, I didn’t feel quite right about going to bed without my nightly chapter of reading, so I grabbed my Book of Mormon and opened to Mosiah 6, a chapter only seven verses long. I was elated! Rather than staying up past midnight to half-digest hefty chunks of doctrine, I could breeze through this chapter in under a minute.
I thought I’d discovered a great way to go to bed. Every night I read the same short chapter. I was reading my scriptures daily. I was a good Church member, I told myself. The speed-read-flop-and-drop worked wonders for fatigue until one Monday night. I got to bed a couple of hours earlier than normal. That meant I was more awake as Mosiah 6 once again stared back up at me.
“And it came to pass that there was not one soul, except it were little children, but who had entered into the covenant and had taken upon them the name of Christ.
“… That thereby they might hear and know the commandments of God, and to stir them up in remembrance of the oath which they had made” (vv. 2–3).
There it was. The sacramental covenant, its elements recorded in Mosiah.
With a few hours of sleep separating me from the next seminary lesson, I realized that I had renewed that same covenant just the day before. Every Sunday, I took the sacrament and promised to take Christ’s name upon me. I really wanted to—that’s why I got up for seminary—but there was a difference between getting up and waking up. I winced, realizing I wasn’t holding up my end of the covenant. Here I was promising to always remember the Lord and keep His commandments, and instead of meditating, I was vegetating.
I started over. After a prayer, I turned to the beginning of the Book of Mormon. “I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents, therefore I was taught somewhat in all the learning of my father.” The words seemed to be full of meaning. I, Peter, was born of Heavenly Parents and had been taught God’s word, even if it had only begun to sink in. That night, I caught up in my seminary reading all the way to Doctrine and Covenants 84.
“Tell me about what you read.” Sister Dorff’s familiar question greeted us the next morning.
“Mosiah,” I answered, winning a friendly scowl from the teacher. “I mean, I read the assigned Doctrine and Covenants scriptures too, but what I read first last night stuck with me. The Book of Mormon is true!”
Sister Dorff smiled. “What did you read?”
“Well, I started with Mosiah 6, then 1 Nephi, and then I felt the Spirit! It was just like that quote from President Ezra Taft Benson where he says there is a power that will enter our lives the moment we begin a serious study of the Book of Mormon.” I grinned at my classmates. “It was so cool. I felt that power last night.”
From then on, I was glad to tell Sister Dorff about what I had read. I had gained a testimony of scripture study.

When I was a junior in high school, I was wrestling in a state tournament against an opponent that I had previously defeated twice during the year. As we met at the center of the mat with the referee before the match, my rival looked at me and said, “Today is my day, Pinegar.” I assured him that it was not, that I had already beaten him twice during the year, and this would be the third time.
As the match began, we circled each other and then clashed. We wrestled very, very hard. He was serious about wanting to defeat me, and in fact was so serious that he turned me every way but loose. As I would go down to the mat with him, I realized I had mat burns all over my body.
In the third round, he had me in a position where my head was twisted in the three-quarter Nelson, and he had a leg hold on me. I realized if I moved any farther he would pin me. At that moment, I looked into the crowd, and several rows into the bleachers I saw a very large man, probably six feet, five inches tall and about 280 pounds. From the expression on his face, it looked like he was trying to help me. So I watched him for just that brief second, and I realized that if he was trying to help me the two of us could surely defeat this fellow who was about to pin me.
I don’t know if it was because of that, but almost immediately after I had turned my face away from him I noticed my opponent had slipped his right arm over a little bit too far. If I could hook his elbow, I could reverse the hold and pin him instead of being pinned. Without hesitating I quickly pulled on his elbow. Over he went and I had him pinned.
Following my win, I was anxious to let the man know I appreciated his help. As I stood waiting for the referee to raise my hand, I looked around to see if I could find the man. In the same place I had seen him before I saw him standing very straight with a satisfied, if not proud, look on his face. He looked at me and smiled. I guess I can confess that this man was my father.

May I share with you an account of an opportunity of service which came to me unexpectedly and in an unusual manner. I received a telephone call from a granddaughter of an old friend. She asked, “Do you remember Francis Brems, who was your Sunday School teacher?” I told her that I did. She continued, “He is now 105 years of age. He lives in a small care center but meets with the entire family each Sunday, where he delivers a Sunday School lesson. Last Sunday, Grandpa announced to us, ‘My dears, I am going to die this week. Will you please call Tommy Monson and tell him this. He’ll know what to do.’”
I visited Brother Brems the very next evening. I could not speak to him, for he was deaf. I could not write a message for him to read, for he was blind. What was I to do? I was told that his family communicated with him by taking the finger of his right hand and then tracing on the palm of his left hand the name of the person visiting and then any message. I followed the procedure and took his finger and spelled on the palm of his hand T-O-M-M-Y M-O-N-S-O-N. Brother Brems became excited and, taking my hands, placed them on his head. I knew his desire was to receive a priesthood blessing. The driver who had taken me to the care center joined me as we placed our hands on the head of Brother Brems and provided the desired blessing. Afterward, tears streamed from his sightless eyes. He grasped our hands, and we read the movement of his lips. The message: “Thank you so much.”
Within that very week, just as Brother Brems had predicted, he passed away. I received the telephone call and then met with the family as funeral arrangements were made. How thankful I am that a response to render service was not delayed.
The bridge of service invites us to cross over it frequently.

When I was walking home from school with my friend, she said that one of my classmates was mean. The person she was talking about was my friend. I thought, “That is not nice.” Then I said to her, “Jesus says love everyone.” In Primary the music leader taught us that we should be kind to everyone, even those we don’t like or those we think are different. Because of the songs I am learning in Primary, I knew the right thing to say to my friend.

Annet Nankumba of Upperhill Ward in Nairobi, Kenya, first learned about BYU–Pathway from her Mission President in Cote d’Ivoire. Due to her low grades in high school, Annet was very nervous about pursuing a university education. A few months after returning from her mission, she decided to enroll in PathwayConnect and began her journey towards a bachelor’s degree. This will make her the first university graduate in her family. “PathwayConnect has been a great blessing for me. One of my first courses taught me about having a growth mindset. Unlike before, I now look at failure as an opportunity to grow,” she said.

Annet further explained, “Someone with a fixed mindset fears failure, gives up so quickly when things get tough, and sees themselves as not smart. To stay focused on my education path, I have to be positive and trust in my Heavenly Father who will help me navigate the challenges.” Annet says she has also learned better financial management, which is helping her in her small business. “I have learned to prioritize payment of tithing, and I now feel my Saviour’s guidance more in my life. I am inspired by the weekly devotionals and institute of religion classes; all this is helping to increase my faith in the Saviour. I know that I can accomplish hard things!”

When I was 16, my mom allowed me to meet with the missionaries but told me I could never get baptized. I laughed. I didn’t need her to tell me that. I already knew I didn’t want to be baptized.
I first met the missionaries only to be polite. A friend asked me if I would be interested in talking with them, and I agreed because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
I kept meeting with the missionaries but didn’t take their lessons seriously, because I knew baptism wasn’t an option for me.
When the missionaries eventually invited me to be baptized, I said my mom wouldn’t allow it. My friend’s dad suggested we fast and ask Heavenly Father to help soften her heart.
I wasn’t convinced that fasting would change my mom’s heart, but I agreed to try. My friend’s family, the missionaries, and I all fasted for my mom to allow me to be baptized.
Shortly after our fast, my mom and I were having dinner together. Out of nowhere, she turned to me and said, “You know, if you want to get baptized, that’s your decision.”
I couldn’t believe what I’d heard.
She repeated herself. “You can get baptized.”
I was terrified. I could no longer use my mom as an excuse not to be baptized. I actually had to make the decision on my own. I started listening to the missionaries with an open mind.
When I started listening to the missionary lessons with real intent, I began to feel God’s love. It came as a feeling of peace and reassurance. Because of the love I felt for Him, I couldn’t bear the thought of being unclean before Him. I was willing to give up everything that was not in line with the commandments of God.
I remember thinking, “I wish I could redo my life.”
So when my friend casually mentioned that baptism was like being born again (see Mosiah 27:25), I could barely contain my excitement. I knew what I needed to do.
I was baptized and have since served a mission in Canada to help other people find the same joy I found in the gospel of Jesus Christ.
The joy I felt when I got baptized wasn’t a one-time feeling. I still feel that peaceful, clean feeling every time I pray for forgiveness.

The principle of eternal families changed my life before I was even born. When my dad asked my mother to marry him, she expressed her convictions about going to the temple in a letter that has been invaluable to our family. Part of that letter reads:
“Temple marriage is forever. It lasts beyond death. Children born to parents [who] married in the temple [and] who live up to their vows will rejoin their parents in heaven. The family unit is preserved for time and eternity. Steve, I believe as clearly as I believe the sun will rise tomorrow that this is true. And I also believe that as much as my Heavenly Father loves me, as much as He loves you, He could not preserve any other kind of relationship beyond death because He is a God of truth, bound by His word.
“Steve, if I love you this much, and I have known you only two and a half years, how much more will you mean to me as time goes by? If I can’t answer you now because I can’t face what the consequences might be, how could I ever, ever face them later?
“Without the covenant of God, two people can build their lives together, only to see it all snatched away in an unexpected nightmare. There can be no peace of mind.”
Those words supplied the added encouragement my father needed to join the Church. My mother committed to marriage, and my parents were sealed in the temple for time and eternity. My father’s testimony was strengthened by the peace of mind found through temple marriage—a peace of mind that would become very meaningful years later.

One day I won a ticket for a football game that would fall on a Sunday. I called my wife and asked her if she would go with me to the game. Instead of answering, she said, “When you get home, read the Liahona.”
When I got home I read about a young woman from Brazil who did not attend the World Cup final in France because it was on Sunday (see Suzana Alves de Melo, “Missing the World Cup,” Liahona, June 2007, 37). I felt as though Heavenly Father was telling me, “I know you like football, but Sunday is my day. Do not go.” So I didn’t go to the game. Since then I have continued reading the words of our prophet. This magazine is a compass for our lives. It will strengthen us in this difficult world.
Anderson Carpejane, Brazil

“During our annual planning meeting at the beginning of the year, we planned several service projects in our quorums and classes. One was when my quorum helped a family in our ward trim the large tree in their backyard.
“It was pretty awesome! We worked on the tree with chainsaws and branch cutters. With all of us working together, we finished in no time at all. It was also really fun because we got to use power tools. We’d just been looking for an opportunity to serve as a quorum when we heard of this family’s need. At the end, our quorum and the family were very happy!”
Andrew S., 14, Arizona, USA

The train hurried on, and the cadence of the wheels on the tracks repeated: “Not expected of you, not expected of you,” with the emphasis on you.
I was very unhappy. I did not notice the sun nor the other ten girls who were having fun and singing songs as we returned to our homes in the Netherlands from our week’s vacation in the woods. Fifteen minutes earlier I had been one of these girls. But now I felt so ashamed! Never, no never, would I do something like that again, even if everybody else did it! I felt shut out and lonely, as though I had nothing in common with the rest of the group.
All the girls had been disobedient. But even though I was the youngest of them, I was the only one who had been scolded. My friend Trees was already 14, Ans was 13, and I was 11. I wanted to blame Trees for everything—she was the one who betrayed me. But in my heart, I knew it was my own fault because I had been disobedient.
* * * * *
Nothing really serious had happened. When we arrived at our vacation spot a week earlier, we received instructions as to what we were allowed to do and what we were not allowed to do while we were there. We could go into the village to buy postcards to send home, but we were not supposed to buy any candy while there.
That’s where the trouble started.
It was incredible to see all the different kinds of candy sold in the village store. We were all too weak to resist. It must have seemed suspicious how often we had to go and buy a postcard in the village after dinner, but after a long, tiring day, the teachers were happy to let us go. And so our money disappeared into the store’s register, and the chocolate and other candies disappeared into our stomachs.
At first I heard a little voice telling me that I was not supposed to do that. But nobody else seemed to have a problem with it, and it was important to me to be accepted in the group, especially since I was the youngest. And so, on the day we were to go home, I had not a penny left.
On the way to the train, we all bragged about how much money we had received for the trip from our aunts and uncles. Then the teachers asked if we had any money left—they had realized that not all that money could have gone to buy postcards. We were found out.
I don’t know why one of the teachers singled me out and asked me personally what I had done with my money. Before I could answer, Trees answered for me, saying that I had spent it all on candy.
I’m sure the teacher would have guessed the truth, since my face turned all red. The only excuse I had was that everybody had broken the rules. And then came these words from the teacher: “But I would not have expected it of you.” It wasn’t even her words that made me so unhappy. It was the disappointment I heard in her voice.
* * * * *
In a corner of the train, I promised myself that from then on I would always listen to the still, small voice in my heart and not be led by other people to do things that are wrong. It was a lesson I would always remember.
The train hurried on, the wheels still repeating, “Not expected of you, not expected of you, not expected of you.”

Some time ago, a friend and I applied for an educational program. I was confident I would be selected. When the results came out, I was disappointed that my friend was selected but I was not. I felt wronged because I thought I deserved to be selected more than my friend.
At that moment, I saw my friend as an opponent or someone who had taken something that belonged to me. A few days later, while studying Jacob 2 in the Book of Mormon, I read how Jacob had rebuked his people for their sins. One of those sins was pride.
Jacob’s teachings made me realize that I was committing the sin of pride toward my friend by thinking I deserved something given to him. Jacob’s words were a revelation to me:
“Let not this pride of your hearts destroy your souls!
“Think of your brethren like unto yourselves” (Jacob 2:16–17).
I prayed to Heavenly Father to forgive me and to help me avoid the sin of pride in the future. Then I spoke to my friend about how I had felt and asked him to forgive me. I felt peace and joy in doing so and in receiving forgiveness from him and from Heavenly Father.

I recently went to an amusement park with some friends from church. While my friend Evie and I stood in line for a rollercoaster, a young man named Erik started talking to us about his YouTube channel. He talked for probably 15 minutes about how some people at his school made fun of him and told him to delete his channel.
At church, our leaders had challenged us to take a For the Strength of Youth guide and share it with someone. Erik seemed like he was having trouble with friends, so I thought maybe the guide could help him.
I pulled it out and told him to keep it. He asked what it was, and I explained that it was from my Church and that it could help him make good decisions and teach him other cool stuff. I told him he should read it when he has time. He said OK, shoved it in his pocket, and continued to talk about his YouTube channel.
I don’t know if he ever read the guide, but this experience taught me that you can be a missionary at any age, in any place—even an amusement park.