Gospel Story Finder

My mother also taught me to be honest, even if it meant doing hard things. Our neighbor grew all kinds of fruits and vegetables. Sometimes his fruit would grow on our side of the fence. Once I picked some of this fruit and took it to my mom. She looked at me and said, “That doesn’t belong to us.”
I couldn’t believe it. I said, “What do you mean? It’s on our side of our fence!” Again she said, “That doesn’t belong to us.” Then she took my hand, and we walked to our neighbor’s house. We asked for forgiveness for taking his fruit. My mother said that if we wanted something, we needed to get it honestly.

“Where’s Dad’s red shirt? It just isn’t Christmas if Dad doesn’t wear his red shirt.”
I don’t remember when this tradition started in our family, but Dad always had to wear his red flannel shirt on Christmas Day. Most likely he just happened to put it on one Christmas, and we thought it was just the right thing to wear. After that we had great fun with Dad hiding the shirt and the rest of us trying to find it before the big day. That red flannel shirt became a tradition. It was a simple thing that still brings back wonderful memories of brothers and sisters, of mother and father, caring about each other and showing it during Christmas.

Recently, an Indian family from Bolivia arrived at the Lima temple. They were very poor and had made considerable sacrifice to come. The father was a district president. The mother wore the typical native felt hat and colorful native clothing. They brought their five little boys—the oldest was twelve—to be sealed to them. The boys had been well prepared to come to the temple and were aware of its significance. The older boys explained to me that they were preparing for the day they could go on a mission for the Church.
After a very spiritual temple sealing ceremony, the father gathered his family around him in front of the mirrors of the sealing room and made this profound statement, “I’m one of the richest men in the world. Look at my treasures!” Indeed, he is wealthy in the things that really count!

A true story of faith to become self-reliant that I find inspiring concerns a brother that I will call Didier (not his real name). Didier served in the Nigeria Calabar Mission at the time that I served there as mission president. When he completed his mission, Didier was serving as a zone leader. He was an obedient, quietly determined, and hard-working missionary. Both of Didier’s parents had passed away when he was young. At that point, he was taken into the custody of his maternal uncle, who raised him and introduced him to the Church. But before Didier completed his mission, his uncle was overcome by a terminal illness and passed away. Didier’s circumstances appeared bleak and desperate.

Returning home, and without any able members of his immediate family to turn to for help, Didier decided that he would continue to put his trust in the Lord who had sustained him up to that point. He decided to find out what he could do to move forward in his life. Through prayer, he got the impression to study what people who were self-reliant in his hometown were doing to sustain themselves. For several weeks, he walked the streets moving from shop to shop, observing the business that was going on, and how people were coming and going.

He reached the conclusion that he would likely live a reasonably good life as an electronics technician repairing TVs, radios, and other electronic equipment. The problem was that he had no skills, no money, and he did not know where to begin. Again, through prayer, he got the impression to ask the owner of one electronics repair shop, how he could get practical training to work as a technician. The man told Didier he could train him for about two years at a fee.

Excited, he contacted his ward self-reliance specialist and asked to be considered for a Perpetual Education Fund loan so he could get the money to pay the shop owner and obtain the training he believed would help him earn enough to meet his temporal needs. Then came his major disappointment. The specialist explained to him that PEF loans were only given for recognized training institutions, and loan money could only be paid directly to the bank account of the training institution. The shop owner was not a registered training institution and did not have a bank account. Didier was at a dead end.

But Didier had observed the goings on at the shop long enough to know that this was a good business if he would work hard. Moreover, he was drawn to the work and admired how a non-functioning TV could suddenly be brought back to life. In this moment of intense discouragement and apparent hopelessness, he again turned to the Lord in prayer. The impression came to go back to the shop owner, explain to him his situation, and offer to enter into an apprenticeship contract that he would pay for after he had completed his training and started working. He did not know how the shop owner would respond, but he decided to try. After deep reflection, the shop owner accepted his proposal on the condition that Didier provide a character reference, which he gladly did.

Two years later, Didier—now with his wife, another returned missionary, at his side—completed his practical apprenticeship as an electronics repair technician. He developed a strong relationship of trust with his trainer, who also became his mentor. Didier was a good student and an asset to the shop. The shop owner offered to hire him as an employee, which Didier gladly accepted. This gave him the opportunity to immediately start paying what he owed for his apprenticeship.

A year later, Didier felt that he knew enough to start his own business. With what he had saved from his employment earnings, he rented a small shed in another part of town. As he had become known to several good clients while working with his trainer and mentor, his business picked up steadily. After two years, he had saved enough money to buy a 40-foot container which was going for a bargain. He rented a plot where he placed the container and moved his repair shop to the new premises. In another year, he bought the plot on which his repair shop stood.

Didier was now his own man, feeling in full control of his life, and deeply grateful to the Lord for sustaining him as he waded through uncertain territory in his life.

My hope and invitation is that despite the gloom of the past 18 months, and of anything else the world might throw at you to try to destroy your hope, you will not let go of your faith. I hope that you will draw inspiration from the experience of Didier, a young man whom I came to know and who, under conditions that could have allowed despair to rule his life, decided to trust in the Lord and to go forward despite the overwhelming weight of his discouragements. Today, Didier serves as a stake high counsellor, and he and his family stand independent. He is confident that if he does his part, the Lord will see him through any challenge that he may face.

President Smith, in the same Tabernacle talk, also honored a little-known non-LDS woman who likewise helped the Church. Evidently when General Lucas, out of fear of General Doniphan, sent Joseph Smith to jail rather than execute him, he delivered Joseph into the charge of a General Moses Wilson. General Wilson, on the way to Liberty Jail, housed Joseph at his own home, in chains, where Mrs. Wilson developed deep sympathy for the unfairly treated Mormon leader. When the Wilsons moved to Texas, the general one day planned to raise a mob to punish Mormon elders preaching in the area. When Mrs. Wilson heard this, although an aged lady, she mounted her horse and rode 30 miles to warn the elders. Years later one of her sons told President George A. Smith that his mother “deeply deprecated the difficulties with the Mormons, and did all she could to prevent them.”13

Sis. Tew: My mother growing up really struggled with reading and so school was hard for her. She determined as she got married that her children would not have the same struggles. She started to read out loud to us. I have wonderful memories of curling up on the bed with my mom and sisters as she read out loud the Little House on the Prairie books. We didn't know that my mom wasn't a good reader. Because of that small act, all nine children in our family enjoy reading. And now her grandchildren are benefiting. We recently read the Little House Books to our children and then took them to DeSmet South Dakota to see The Little Town on the Prairie. Our children are also learning to love reading.

I grew up in Krasnodar, Russia. As a young girl, I was baptized in a Christian church that was part of my culture. I knew that Jesus Christ was real, but I wasn’t very active in my religion.
A few years later, I met missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I gained a testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel and entered into a covenant with God through baptism—a covenant to serve God, keep His commandments, and be willing to take the name of Jesus Christ upon me and always remember Him.
When I was first baptized, my life was going well! I loved God, Jesus Christ, and the Church. I loved the gospel so much that I wanted to share my feelings with my classmates. But when I did, I was met with opposition. Because of how others treated me for my faith, I had to switch schools. And I had to travel the path as a disciple of Christ mostly alone.
I was able to manage this for a while. I spent time with my few friends and the missionaries. My testimony was strong, but after I graduated and moved to a new city, I was a bit more cautious about sharing my faith because of my past negative experiences.
I started to focus less and less on the gospel. During this time, even though I didn’t prioritize the gospel much, I still expected God to give me a helping hand with my struggles. But when those blessings I expected didn’t come, I decided I didn’t want to wait for His direction anymore.
One missed church meeting turned into three, which turned into months of not going. This led to me making small decisions that went against gospel standards, which eventually turned into a series of bigger choices. Before I knew it, I had been living outside the Church for five years and had never felt so distant from God.
In the back of my mind, I knew I had made covenants, and I still had a fragment of a testimony. But I pushed those thoughts away because it was uncomfortable to acknowledge that I was not living in line with the gospel.
Eventually, I reached a breaking point, where I was experiencing a spiritual famine. I knew I had to return to God—nothing was bringing me true happiness or fulfillment. However, the journey back to Him seemed too overwhelming to start. I wanted to be the person I was five years ago, the one who had such strong faith, but I felt lost.
I wondered if there was even a way back.
Finally, I worked up the courage to act. The path back seemed so difficult to take alone, but I remembered that I wasn’t alone. As Deuteronomy 31:6 says, “Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid … : for the Lord thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.”
As soon as I decided to turn toward Jesus Christ again, miracles continued to guide me back to the covenant path. Because of the covenants we make with God, if we choose to return to Him and repent with an honest heart, He will honor and renew those covenants with us.
My small but intentional acts of repentance helped me find renewal through Jesus Christ. And by studying the words of my patriarchal blessing, praying to my Father in Heaven, and doing those simple things that bring us closer to Christ, I gained confidence that the Savior was changing me for the better.
As Elder Dale G. Renlund of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles recently shared, “As you walk the covenant path, from baptism to the temple and throughout life, I promise you power to go against the natural worldly flow—power to learn, power to repent and be sanctified, and power to find hope, comfort, and even joy as you face life’s challenges.”
As someone who fell away from the covenant path and later returned, I can testify that this is true.
If you feel like you are too far away from the gospel to return, you are not! I felt lost too, but as you remain focused on Jesus Christ, He will guide you.
All you need to do is trust Him.

Brother and Sister Chukwurah have learned to follow the promptings of the Spirit, both in regard to Church callings and in caring for their children. There was a time when Uchenna became very sick and Sister Chukwurah stayed home with him while her mission president husband traveled to Sierra Leone. Medication had been prescribed for nine-year-old Uchenna, but he kept getting sicker. He kept vomiting and losing strength until he finally collapsed. Florence checked his pulse and found it very weak. She was convinced he was dying.

Without a priesthood holder available to give her son a blessing, Sister Chukwurah knelt by her son’s bed and held him while she prayed for help. During the prayer she got the distinct impression to stop giving him one of the medications. This was at 5:45 P.M.; she was scheduled to give him the medication at 6:00 P.M. She rose from her knees feeling a great relief. Knowing clearly what needed to be done, she changed his medication. Immediately Uchenna’s pulse became normal, and the nausea lifted.

“I missed my husband, who would have given him a priesthood blessing,” Sister Chukwurah says. “I had no hope anywhere except from the Lord. So I exercised my faith and called upon the Lord. And the Lord saved him.”

When I was 17, some family members and I had to drive from Oakland, California to Portland, Oregon to find and rescue a stolen vehicle and a lost baby niece. The trip was scary and stressful, but we were hopeful and prayerful.
Through several tender mercies from a loving Heavenly Father, we were able to rescue both the minivan and my baby niece, who, by a miracle, was safe and sound.
The minivan was in working condition, but it was a mess. I was more than excited to clean it out, to prepare it for our drive back, but thoughts of those who had abused our vehicle—and the kind of chaotic life they must lead—brought me to frustrated tears. It was hard for me to understand how anyone can do such crazy things with their lives and with other people’s property. It made me so sad.
I couldn’t wait to get back to California. I knew we had a long drive ahead of us.

About 20 years ago I was assigned to go to Montevideo, Uruguay, to tour the mission and dedicate the first chapel built in that city. During the previous year President David O. McKay had broken ground for that chapel, hoping that he could return and dedicate it. Other duties prevented his doing so, and hence I was sent.
After our dedicatory service an Italian sister came up to shake hands. Before doing so she held out her right hand and asked me to look at it. I did but saw nothing unusual about it. Then she called my attention to a scar in the palm of her hand and explained:
“When President McKay was here to break ground for our chapel,” she said, “I had a cancer in the palm of my hand. The doctors could not help me, and the cancer was spreading. I felt impressed by the Holy Spirit that if I could just touch President McKay’s hand, my cancer would be healed.
“Many people went forward to greet the president, and because there were so many, I became discouraged. But my prompting continued. I felt it was the Holy Spirit urging me on. I did meet the president. My right hand was heavily bandaged, so I had to shake hands with my left hand.
“When I returned home I took the bandage off and to my great delight saw that the cancer was already drying up. I now show you this right hand, all healed, and I want you to tell President McKay about it.”

My mind has been much on this topic because of an experience our family has had in the last few months. Our daughter and her husband took a while to find each other, and then, though they wanted children with all their hearts, for a number of years they had difficulty realizing that dream. They prayed and they sought priesthood blessings and medical help and eventually were thrilled to learn they were expecting twins.

Things did not go smoothly, however, and three and a half months before the babies were due to arrive, the mother-to-be found herself in the labor and delivery section of the hospital. The doctors at first were hopeful that they could stop the labor for a few more weeks. Quickly, however, the question became, would they even have the 48 hours necessary for medication to prepare the babies’ immature lungs to function?

A nurse came in from the newborn intensive care unit to show the couple pictures of the machines the babies would be hooked up to if they were born alive. She explained the risks for eye damage, for lung collapse, for physical impairment, for brain damage. The couple listened, humbled yet hopeful, and then, despite all the doctors could do, it was obvious that these babies were coming.

They were born alive. First the baby girl and then the baby boy—weighing less than four pounds together—were rushed to the intensive care unit and put on ventilators, with umbilical tubes and intravenous lines and constant attention. They can’t have too much light, they can’t have too much noise, their chemical balances need constant monitoring, as the hospital, with millions of dollars of equipment and many wonderful doctors and nurses, attempted to replicate the miracle of a mother’s womb.

There are multitudes of little miracles every day: a collapsed lung heals and then, despite the odds, continues to function properly; pneumonia is beaten back; more deadly infections invade and are overcome; IV lines go bad and are replaced. After two and a half months, the baby boy has gained two pounds and can breathe with an oxygen supplement. His ventilator is gone, he learns to eat, and his grateful parents take him home with monitors attached.

The baby girl keeps pulling her ventilator tube out, setting off alarms across the nursery. Maybe she wants to keep up with her brother, we think, but her throat closes off each time, and she just can’t breathe on her own. Her throat is so inflamed that at times the respiratory therapists have great difficulty reinserting the tube, and she almost dies. Her normal progress is stymied by her continued dependence on the ventilator.

Finally, after her baby brother has been home for two months, the doctors feel they are forced to suggest surgery for her—a surgery that will allow her to breathe by opening a hole in her throat, a surgery that might solve the stomach problems by opening a hole in her side, but a surgery that will impact her little body for many more months and maybe for the rest of her life. As the parents wrestled with this decision, a beloved aunt sent a message to all the family. She explained the situation—the critical issue of timing, the importance of getting off the ventilator—and suggested that we join our faith once again, and in prayer and fasting ask for one more miracle—if it was the Lord’s will. We would culminate our fast with a prayer the evening of December 3.

Let me read from a letter that was sent to the family the morning of December 4. “Dearest Family, Wonderful news! Blessings from the Lord. Our heartfelt thanks for your prayers and fasting in behalf of our little girl. Yesterday morning she came off the ventilator and has been off for 24 hours at this writing. To us, it is a miracle. The medical staff are still guarded about predicting the future, but we are so grateful to the Lord and to you. We are praying that this will mark the beginning of the end of her hospital stay. And we even dare to hope that she’ll be home for Christmas.”

She did make it home for Christmas, and both babies are currently doing just fine. Our family has had its own “parting of the Red Sea,” and we are prepared to testify that there is today, as there was yesterday and will be forever, a “God of miracles” who loves His children and desires to bless them.

When Elder LeGrand Richards was getting along in years, he generally gave extemporaneous conference talks. As you know, we have some time restraints. There was concern as to how to notify him when his time was up. A little flashing light was put on the podium, and during one of his talks he said, “There’s a light here that keeps flashing.” The next conference they made the light red, but he just put his hand over it. So I might resort to some of that today. As we age, we get to the point where the teleprompter doesn’t work for us anymore; then the printers seem to be doing a poor job in printing the text; and then the ink doesn’t seem to be as good as it used to be either! But I am honored and grateful to be here with you.

A friend of mine received an invitation to the temple wedding of a young man she had taught in Primary. When she responded to the invitation, she asked, “David, you moved away, and I haven’t seen you for years. Why did you think of me?”
“Sister McMullin,” he said, “you taught us about being clean and worthy to receive the priesthood. You taught us about scrubbing our hands and wearing clean clothes when we would pass the sacrament. You taught us about being clean inside too. When I was faced with temptations and decisions in my dating years, your voice would come into my mind: ‘A deacon is clean inside and out.’ I am worthy to go to the temple because of you. That’s why I want you to come with us.”

Clara McMaster was the eleventh child in her family, and she learned to love music at an early age. She sang and accompanied others on the piano as she grew up in Brigham City, Utah. For twenty-two years she was a member of the Tabernacle Choir. Today she and her husband sing together for numerous church occasions. “Music is a rich gift of God, and it is in the world to make the lives of His children happier and better,” Sister McMaster says.
While serving on the Primary General Board, Sister McMaster was asked to write a song for the first reverence program. She worked hard and prayed that she would be prompted to write what would be best for the children. One day as she was looking out the window and pondering her assignment, an idea came to her. She went to the piano and quickly wrote it down. The new song was “Reverently, Quietly.” “I felt very humble, she said. “If you prepare and do all that you can do, then Heavenly Father will help you.”
Sister McMaster has written other Primary favorites such as “My Heavenly Father Loves Me” and “Teach Me to Walk in the Light of His Love.”

Illustrated by Mike Eagle
When Heber J. Grant was nearly 24, he was called as a stake president. He had never spoken to a large group before, so when he gave his first talk, it was only seven minutes long.
The next two Sundays, Heber traveled to different wards. Again he ran out of ideas after speaking for six or seven minutes. So the Sunday after that, he brought two speakers with him.
Heber: Bishop Sharp, it looks like no one is coming to the meeting. Where is everyone? It’s almost time to start.
Bishop Sharp: I’ve encouraged the members to be in their seats on time, President Grant. We’re the last ones to arrive—you’ll see.
Inside the log meetinghouse, every seat was full! Heber thought he would speak for a few minutes, as usual. Instead, he spoke easily for nearly an hour. He felt the Spirit guiding him.
That night Heber prayed with gratitude.
Heber: I thank Thee, Heavenly Father, for blessing me with the Spirit as I spoke today.
The following Sunday he expected to speak just as well, and he did little to prepare. How embarrassed he was when no words came to his mouth! He spoke for only five minutes.
He tearfully left the meeting and went into a field to pray. After that he always remembered to rely on the Spirit whenever he taught.
Heber: Forgive me for not praying or preparing. I know that I can preach only if I first seek Thy Spirit.

The message I am sharing with you today is that the gospel protects us and that the gospel principle of repentance has the ability to restore us if we have committed a sin. Recently I received a letter written by a young lady who went on a long, dark journey, a journey that ultimately led her into moral transgression. Her story is important because she is going through the anguish of full repentance and now is beginning to feel the joy that honest repentance can bring. She has asked that her personal experience be shared with you in the hope that there might be one who can be helped and not take that same journey. She writes (excerpts from a letter):
“It began when I left my home to go to college. Until that time, under the righteous guardianship of my parents, I had not indulged in the loose morals of my friends and acquaintances.
“Probably the first dent in the armor of faith which my parents had built up around me was the realization that some ‘good returned missionaries’ were not always so good and really did indulge in necking and petting episodes. I began to think that a certain amount of physical relations were natural and included them in the closer relationships I had with young men.
“Satan is insidious. He leads a person away from the righteous way of living and little by little tempts them into greater and greater wrongs.
“The months passed, and I fell further and further from the truth. I moved in with a friend who was inactive in the Church and who also had loose morals and drank and smoked. With her I visited bars and nightclubs I never would have gone into on my own initiative.
“Next, I stopped attending Church meetings and even stopped praying. I found that my whole life had changed. I was always depressed. My grades dropped to an all-time low. I couldn’t get along with my roommates. Everything, everything, was wrong.
“I found myself totally rejecting the Church and all its teachings. I knew in the depths of my soul that I was afraid. I was truly a ‘ship without a rudder.’
“I found myself searching everywhere for some semblance of security and stability. My parents were physically a long way away. But even at long distance they sensed some of my inner conflict and were worried.
“I finally met a young man, also inactive, with whom I thought I was in love. By then it was easy for me to convince myself that making love was all right as long as I truly felt that I loved the man. So I made love and desecrated the temple of my body. I became pregnant. When I realized my condition, I went to the young man and told him of my problem. He wanted nothing to do with me or my baby. He did say he would pay for an abortion, however, if I so desired.
“At first I rejected the very idea of abortion, but as I thought about it, I began to rationalize. It took me a couple of weeks to talk myself into making an appointment and having the abortion done.
“Shortly thereafter I had the good fortune to meet and marry a young man of extremely high caliber. He was not active in the Church, but he was and is morally a fine, honest, upstanding man. Ever since that time, I have been working and living toward the goal of becoming active in the Church and of once again attaining a position of righteousness in our Heavenly Father’s kingdom.
“A few months ago I realized I must go to the bishop of my ward and confess the terrible things I had done. I did so knowing that my sins were grievous before the Lord, that I faced possible disfellowshipment or even excommunication. I also knew that the time had come to put myself and my life into the Lord’s hands, that I might be able to cleanse my sins and stand spotless before Him on the judgment day.
“I made an appointment one Sunday afternoon with the bishop. He took time out of his busy schedule to hear of my terrible transgressions. Oh, how I prayed to my Heavenly Father before my interview. The bishop was kindly. He asked that I would have the courage to tell him everything; that I would not hold anything back. As I tried to touch lightly on my transgressions and go on, I couldn’t! A horrible tightening in my throat and chest made it impossible for me to go on. I suddenly knew it was the answer to my prayers. The Spirit of our Father in heaven was with me demanding complete confession. I bear witness that I felt the Spirit constraining me to tell the whole truth!
“It isn’t easy to admit past sins even to ourselves. I found that it was as hard for me to admit the exact nature of my sins to myself as it was to admit them to the bishop. I didn’t want to think about them.
“After my confession the bishop commended me on taking the first step toward returning to my Heavenly Father and outlined additional steps to prepare me for the day when I would realize that I had truly been forgiven. He emphasized that he, himself, could not forgive me. That was the Lord’s decision. He helped me to understand that I could be forgiven, that my Heavenly Father loves me, that I could gain an awareness of my future goals and not constantly condemn myself all of my life, thus halting my eternal progression. He asked me to read the Miracle of Forgiveness by President Spencer W. Kimball. It helped a great deal in making me aware of the process of forgiveness. We had several appointments, the bishop and I, so that he could help me to see my course toward reestablishing myself in good standing in the Church.
“Following my interview with the bishop, I found myself alternating between depression in which I wondered if I would ever be forgiven and becoming lax in doing the things I should be doing. I have learned that ‘to change’ isn’t easy. It takes time. One must learn to ‘try’ and ‘try again.’
“Now I find myself growing ever closer to the Lord—more positive. I know if I continue to work and to grow, my Father in heaven will forgive me, but most importantly, I will also forgive myself. The important thing is that I must persevere in doing what I know to be right.
“If my experiences sound familiar, I beg you from the very depth of my heart to please pause and take stock of your life. Do not be misled by the superficial moral codes of our day. They are Satan’s most persuasive tools. They have no eternal significance. It is Satan who will entice us away from the joyous richness awaiting us in the eternal family circle.
“You are sons and daughters of our Heavenly Father. Stay true to your birthright. Do not bring into your lives the miseries and anguish of soul that I brought into mine. Refrain from doing things that will make you eternally sorry. Prepare yourselves in righteousness to do the things in life that will make you eternally happy.”
The true story we have shared is a testimony by a young lady who is coming back from the depths of depression to make a new life for herself.

I see in my mind another pioneer woman who helped the families in a Monclova, Mexico, branch make their homes learning centers. I met her on a Sunday in September 1975. Adelita happily showed me the things she had done in her own home to motivate her children to study, then told of things she was doing to help the other sisters in the branch teach their children better study habits. Adelita herself was illiterate, yet she placed great value on education. Humble and gracious, she desired only to serve.

It was the morning of the examination, and I prepared my backpack hurriedly. No, I wasn’t forgetting anything—not my schoolbooks, my glasses, or my trusty Book of Mormon. I had everything—including anxiety, which worsened as soon as I saw the university buildings.
It was still early; the professor hadn’t arrived, but other students were waiting with me. Everyone else was talking, but I sat in silence, close to panic. I couldn’t back out now. This test was too important for me and for my family. I had to show my relatives that, even though I had many Church commitments, I hadn’t neglected my studies. I had to pass this oral exam—but anxiety was shutting down my ability to smile and to remember what I had studied.
I looked out the window. The sky over my beautiful city of Naples, Italy, was incredibly blue, and my thoughts immediately turned to God. For several minutes I looked into the immensity of the heavens and spoke with my Heavenly Father. Peace came over me. I felt an assurance that God was with me.
While the other students continued to talk among themselves, I took my Book of Mormon from my backpack and began to read. I lost track of those around me as I was comforted by what I read in the scriptures. All of a sudden, a thought shook me: “It’s useless for you to stay here. You can’t answer the professor’s questions. Get out of here. Take the exam next month.” I made the mistake of listening, and again I felt very alone and very close to panic. The words penetrated into me, and I was about to shut my Book of Mormon and leave, believing I couldn’t succeed.
Then I remembered my prayer to Heavenly Father earlier, along with the peace I’d felt. With all the strength I had, I cried out in my heart, “God is with me.”
This time, joy overcame me, and I had no more fear. All my worries vanished in the warm light of heavenly reassurance.
Finally the professor arrived. When it was my turn to be questioned, I went into his office with a look that gave only a tiny indication of the peace I felt in my heart. And I came out of the office with a radiant smile. I had answered all the professor’s questions and scored the maximum possible!
Discouragement is one of Satan’s strongest weapons. He must have known that if he could hit his target this time, my family would have thought they had a reason to criticize the Church.
But with Heavenly Father’s help, I overcame doubt and discouragement. Now I know that if I do my part, Heavenly Father will help me. I need not fear. I cannot imagine a greater joy than knowing God is with me.

I was very excited to start kindergarten. I liked going to school, and I made some new friends. After a couple of months, though, I became frightened of a boy in the other class. He was big and chased children at recess. I didn’t want to go to school or play at recess anymore. I would stand next to a teacher the whole time.
My mom asked my family to fast and pray to help me be brave at school. My teacher arranged for me to have recess buddies so I wouldn’t be afraid. I was still afraid, though. My mom told me that maybe I needed to get to know the boy who frightened me. I told my teacher and she took me to meet the boy. I found out that we both have a big brother and liked the color blue. I also found out that the boy was nice and needed a friend.
I am happy that Heavenly Father blessed me with courage to face my fears. I am no longer afraid to go to school or play at recess, and I have a new friend!

Our grandson was only four when a policeman picked him up on the side of the highway. He said he was headed to Grandma’s house, about five miles (8 km) away.
It was the second time he had run away from the unhappiness at home, trying to get to me. Over the next few months, I came to realize that the responsibility of raising my grandson and his two younger sisters was probably going to fall on my shoulders—an idea I did not readily embrace.
My husband and I had done our best to raise our children with gospel principles, but they eventually rejected those principles. I was in my 50s and felt that I had finally earned the right to pursue my own interests. I cherished the goal my husband and I shared of serving a mission together when he retired. The notion of going grocery shopping with preschoolers, organizing mealtimes, doing thousands of loads of laundry, and someday again mothering teenagers reduced me to tears.
One afternoon, however, something changed my heart. A small thing had upset my grandson, so I took him onto my lap and wiped away his tears. As I held him, we talked about how much Jesus loved him. Nearby I had a wall calendar featuring paintings of the Savior, so we looked at those beautiful images one by one.
My grandson was especially interested in a depiction of the Savior sitting in a stone doorway with a small, brown-haired girl on His lap. In the painting, both the Savior and the child radiate peace. My grandson looked closely, pointed to the girl, and called her by his sister’s name.
“How can Katie sit on Jesus’s lap, Grandma?” he asked. “I want to sit on His lap too!”
“You can’t sit on Jesus’s lap now, sweetheart, but you can sit on my lap,” I said. “Jesus gives little children grandmas to love them and hold them and take care of them when they need it.”
Suddenly my heart embraced a future of loving—as the Savior would love—three beloved children who needed me. They were no longer a burden but a wonderful blessing and opportunity to serve our Lord.
I will be forever grateful for the tender mercy of the Lord given to me that afternoon. It changed my life and continues to strengthen and bless our home.