Gospel Story Finder

From 1856 to 1860, thousands of Latter-day Saint pioneers pulled their belongings in handcarts for over 1,000 miles (1,600 km) as they traveled to the Salt Lake Valley. One hundred sixty-seven years ago this very week, on October 4, 1856, President Brigham Young was surprised to learn that two handcart companies, led by Edward Martin and James Willie, were still hundreds of miles from Salt Lake, with winter fast approaching. The very next day, not far from where we meet today, President Young stood before the Saints and declared: “Many of our brethren and sisters are on the plains with hand-carts, and they must be brought here. … Go and bring in those people now on the plains.”
Just two days later, the first rescue parties departed in search of the handcart pioneers.
A member of the Willie company described the desperate situation prior to the arrival of the main rescue team. He shared: “[Just] when it seemed all would be lost, … and there seemed little left to live for, like a thunderbolt out of the clear sky, God answered our prayers. A rescue party, bringing food and supplies … , came into sight. … How we thanked God for our rescue.”

I began to discover that there were others around me who loved and cared about me. My ward bishopric took an interest in me, as did my stake president, who lived just down the street from me. They taught me the gospel. They bore their testimonies to me of the reality of the Savior and His precious Atonement and what it could do for me. They read to me repeatedly the story of Joseph Smith and his vision in the Sacred Grove. From that experience I have developed the wonderful habit of reading Joseph Smith—History every week. By doing so, I know that I can have the strength to overcome anything placed before me that week.
At that time in my life, when I needed someone so badly, my Heavenly Father blessed me. He knew who I was, and He sent His servants to help me discover that for myself. They wrapped their arms around me and told me by their actions that I wasn’t an ugly duckling at all and that if I was worthy and kept the commandments of God, I could become “the king of the pond.” The blessing and understanding of the Atonement began to give me added strength and confidence.

“In one week,” recalls Dave Nielsen, 19, “I contracted Bell’s palsy, I blew out my knee, and two of my friends died. I was feeling really low.” Dave decided to go to the temple. “It was like taking a breather from the trials of life,” he says. “Doing temple work pulled me out of the dark feeling that had come over me. There’s a power in the temple. It helps you see what’s really important in life.”

When I was a college freshman, I found myself flustered and frustrated as I tried to get through my first semester. It was very difficult to fit everything into my busy schedule, which included a full load of classes, a very time-consuming Church calling, and the everyday adjustments of living on my own for the first time. As December arrived, I became overwhelmed with everything. With the pressure of finals and a lack of time and money, I didn’t feel the Christmas spirit at all.
I went home a week before Christmas, wondering what to do for gifts. I had been assigned to buy a present for my younger sister Rachel and didn’t know what to get her, until my friend showed me a very plain little stuffed bear her mother had made for her and the touching poem she’d written to go along with it.
On Christmas Eve, I found myself working frantically to finish a bear. My mom came to my room, sat down with me, and helped me get it done for Christmas morning.
As Rachel tore the paper from the package and peered inside, a huge smile spread across her face. There were tears in everyone’s eyes as the family realized what a special gift it was. In its seams, and in the poem attached, was the real meaning of Christmas. There was love in that simple bear.
—Lisa McKinstryRexburg, Idaho

Tammy awoke to the roar of a truck outside her bedroom window. “It’s moving day!” She exclaimed, jumping out of bed and sliding into her slippers. “Mom! Mom! The truck is here!”
“Yes, Tammy,” her mom answered, “today is the big day. You’ll need to hurry and eat your breakfast if you want to help the men pack your things.”
My things! Tammy thought, changing into her sweatshirt and jeans, pulling on her shoes, and running to the kitchen. What’s going to happen to my things?
Tammy’s father flew helicopters for the Air Force, and they needed him in Japan. During story time at the public library, Tammy had looked at the world globe and seen that Japan was far across the ocean from the United States. Far from her favorite park and its super-fast twirly slide. Far from all her friends in Primary. And far from her special Star A teacher, who smiled at her when she raised her hand to say the prayer.
Tammy’s thoughts were interrupted when two giant men with big black boots stomped into the house, carrying boxes. They headed down the hall to her room. She gulped down the last bit of milk from her cereal and hurried after them.
They had already started to put her toys into the boxes. “Not these!” she told them, snatching up her new box of markers and her coloring books. “I’m taking these with me on the airplane. It’s going to be a very, very long flight.” She grabbed her backpack and began stuffing it with other special things: favorite books, tapes, a small doll, a whistle, her baseball cards, a pack of gum, and the blue-ribbon badge she had been given for giving a talk in Primary.
“Don’t worry,” one man said, “you’ll have all your things soon after you get there. It’s Japan you’re going to, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It’s far away.”
“Yep, it sure is,” the other man said, adding conversationally, “I hear that things are a lot different over there.”
“A lot different,” Tammy agreed. She thought, I know they have fast trains and big shopping malls. I know they eat with funny things called chopsticks, bow to each other, and take off their shoes at the door. But do they have Primary? Will I still be a Star A? Her Primary teacher had told the class that missionaries took the gospel to all the world, but had they already taken it to Japan? Did Japan have Sharing Time and singing time and Stars?
Early the next morning, Tammy and her family went to the airport and boarded the plane to Japan. It was a long flight, but she stayed busy playing with the things in her backpack and helping to keep her little brother out of trouble. They left on Thursday, but when they landed in Tokyo, it was already Saturday! Even day and night were different in Japan.
Dad gathered the baggage, and Mom helped her and her brother into the taxi that would take them to their new house. Tammy was fascinated by the windows that rolled up and down when she pushed a little switch. As the spring breezes blew into the car, she suddenly sat up straight. “Stop! Listen!” she yelled. Startled, the cab driver obeyed.
Piano music echoed faintly in the air.
“… , Smiling for the whole world to see,” Tammy sang with it. “That’s my Star song!”
A familiar pillar atop a brown building towered to their right. “It’s our church!” Tammy yelled. “Let’s go in!”
Dad asked the driver to wait, and the family was soon walking across the parking lot while the beautiful, familiar music floated softly out an open window. Tammy ran over to it and peeked inside. “It’s a Primary Quarterly Activity!” she exclaimed with a big smile. “They do have the gospel in Japan. And they have Stars too!”

Perhaps I can illustrate how understanding the Father’s plan and the Savior’s divine mission empowers us to face life’s challenges.
In the summer of 2020, I started feeling pain in my left shoulder, and I could not figure out why. The pain wouldn’t go away, so finally, in late October, I visited with a doctor. He looked at an X-ray and suggested a CT scan. The next evening, the doctor called me at home—likely not a good sign—and told me that the CT scan had identified metastatic disease in my shoulder. In other words, he said I had cancer. He also said it appeared to have traveled to my shoulder from somewhere else in my body.
I got up from my chair, walked into the other room, and told Anne Marie I had cancer. That evening, our lives changed. Everything seemed to change.
I reached out to my father and asked if he would give me a blessing. He is 95 years old. We gathered as a family at my parents’ home. All our children joined us. It was a miracle that they were all in town. We were careful to wear our masks, except for in this picture.
Photograph by Busath Photography
I had hoped that, in the blessing, my father would strike the spot and command the cancer to be gone. But that is not the blessing he provided. He blessed me that the cancer would be identified, that there would be a course of treatment, that I would follow the course of treatment, and that I would be made whole.
From the moment he and my sons took their hands off my head, a feeling of peace settled on me. I knew that peaceful feeling came by the influence of the Holy Ghost.
For the next month, medically speaking, I could not see past the end of my feet. I knew I had cancer in my shoulder and in at least one other place in my body. I did not know what kind of cancer it was or how pervasive it was. I just did not know very much at all.
But this I did know: my father, accompanied by my four sons, had pronounced a blessing upon me by the authority of the Melchizedek Priesthood. I had great faith in the power of that blessing. I also had faith that the blessing was in keeping with the Lord’s will.
Throughout the month of November, the medical tests continued. As we waited for the results, Anne Marie and I talked a lot about the future and our faith in our Heavenly Father’s plan. We discussed the possibility that perhaps my stay in mortality would be a bit shorter than anticipated. But regardless of which side of the veil I would be on, it did not change our love for each other or our marriage or our family. It did not change our gratitude to Heavenly Father for the gift of His Son, Jesus Christ, and for the blessing of participating in this wonderful mortal experience.
In our prayers as a couple, we prayed that my life would be spared. But if the plan was that I be called home at this time, we would accept that as well. I also prayed that I could learn what the Lord wanted me to learn from this experience. I remembered Elder Neal A. Maxwell (1926–2004) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles saying on one occasion that the Lord gave him cancer so he could teach the people with authenticity. 1 I continue to ponder that.
As we waited for the diagnosis, I continued to feel at peace. I was very grateful for my father’s blessing. Spiritually speaking, he did strike the spot and make me whole. He healed me spiritually.
During all this, I felt the faith and prayers of friends, family, and loved ones. It is quite something to realize that your children, their spouses, and your grandchildren are praying for you with great faith. The missionaries and the Saints with whom we served in the Spain Barcelona Mission are also exercising their faith and prayers in my behalf. What greater blessings could there be? These prayers of faith and support from so many have created a giant tsunami of love that has been overwhelming to me.
At last, the diagnosis came. I have cancer in my right kidney, which has metastasized to my left shoulder. The cancer had already been in my shoulder for a year or so and therefore even longer in my kidney. For some reason, unknown to me, there is no cancer in my brain or lungs. The Lord is very kind. There is a course of treatment, I am following it, and I trust that in a year or so I will be made whole. “But if not” (Daniel 3:18), I am willing to accept the Lord’s will for me.
Now, I am not the only one with health challenges or worries or heartaches of different kinds. Like you, I have faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Like you, I have faith in Heavenly Father’s plan. And like you, I have faith that “all things shall work together for your good, if ye walk uprightly and remember the covenant wherewith ye have covenanted one with another” (Doctrine and Covenants 90:24).
Our faith does not necessarily remove our trials. But it does give us the power and perspective to navigate those trials successfully.
Our Savior, who is our example in all things, has taught us how to endure adversity faithfully. Most poignant is His experience in Gethsemane:
“And he was withdrawn from them about a stone’s cast, and kneeled down, and prayed,
“Saying, Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done.
“And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him” (Luke 22:41–43; emphasis added).
The Father didn’t remove this cup of suffering, but He also didn’t forsake His Beloved Son. He sent an angel to strengthen Him, and with that strength the Savior was able to carry out the infinite Atonement.
Likewise, when we face challenges, the Father does not always remove the burden, but when we submit to His will, we can count on Him to give us strength equal to the challenge.
I testify of Jesus Christ, the true source of lasting peace (see John 16:33). Because He overcame the world, He provides the strength for us to meet every trial the world can give us. He provides eternal perspective through His restored gospel and comfort through the influence of the Holy Ghost. Indeed, the gospel of Jesus Christ is the answer to every issue we face in life.
“Peace I leave with you,” the Savior said, “my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid” (John 14:27).
You can submit your own article, ideas, or feedback at liahona.ChurchofJesusChrist.org. We can’t wait to hear from you!

My husband and I were assisting our daughter and her two sons at the airport, where they were preparing for their return flight home. We helped our daughter as she juggled luggage, located passports, and managed an active three-year-old. Tommy, our one-year-old grandson, was fast asleep in his stroller until he awakened abruptly. He panicked as he struggled to take in all the noise, bright lights, and general chaos.
I saw his expression and knew what was about to happen, so I cried out to my daughter. She quickly stooped down, cupped Tommy’s face in her hands, met his gaze, and lovingly said, “Hello, little lamb.”
In an instant his furrowed brow, turned-down mouth, and tensed-up shoulders relaxed as his whole body sighed with relief. He gave a little smile before his heavy eyelids closed again. His fear was replaced by a calm assurance and a peace that seemed to envelop him. It was a small but powerful manifestation of the trust Tommy had in his mother. Her familiar touch, voice, and presence comforted him.

“Hurry up, Mom!” five-year-old Jackson shouted. He grabbed the Book of Mormon storybook and plunked down on the bright blue beanbag chair.
Four-year-old Michelle plopped down beside him. “Story time!” she cried, eagerly clapping her hands.
Mother squeezed between them on the beanbag chair and opened the book. “Let’s see. … Yesterday, we were reading about the Anti-Nephi-Lehies, weren’t we?”
Jackson nodded.
“They were Lamanites. And they’d been converted to the gospel, remember?”
“And they were really wicked!” Michelle declared emphatically.
“Yes, they were really wicked. But when they were converted, they wanted to repent,” said Mother. “They promised the Lord that they would never fight again. In fact, they buried all their weapons of war in a big pit—see,” she said, pointing to the picture.
“Wow!” Jackson cried excitedly. “Look at all those weapons. Swords and bows and arrows and all kinds of things!”
“That looks fun!” exclaimed Michelle. “Let’s bury our weapons, too, Jackson!”
Jackson giggled. “Oh, Michelle, don’t be silly. We don’t have any weapons.”
“Hmmm,” Mother said thoughtfully, “You may not use swords and bows and arrows, but sometimes the things that come out of your mouths hurt too.”
Michelle wrinkled her forehead. “What comes out of our mouths?” she asked, puzzled.
“Words,” said Mother.
“You mean words like stupid and dumb, don’t you?” Jackson asked.
“Right,” said Mother. “Sometimes words hurt as much as a punch on the arm.”
“Then we must bury our bad words,” Michelle urged, “and never use them again!”
“I know what,” said Mother. “You tell me some words that hurt other people’s feelings, and I’ll write them down on slips of paper. Then you can dig a big hole and bury all those bad words, just like the Lamanites buried their weapons.”
“Great idea!” Jackson exclaimed. They found some paper and tore it into pieces. Then they thought of all the unkind words that they knew. Mother wrote them down.
“Come on, Michelle, let’s go dig that pit now,” Jackson called enthusiastically. They dragged their dad’s shovel out of the garage and raced to the unplowed area behind the garden.
Jackson jabbed the shovel tip into the dark, rocky soil. He pushed as hard as he could, but the ground was so hard that he loosened only a small clump of dirt.
“Boy! You’re not very strong,” Michelle remarked saucily.
“Well, you’re pretty weak yourself,” he growled back. Then he stopped. “Hey, wait a minute. We’re supposed to be burying those kinds of words! Sorry.”
“Me, too,” Michelle told him sincerely.
Jackson gripped the shovel handle with both hands, then jumped on the back end of its blade as he had seen his dad do. He hovered there for a few seconds as it teetered in the hard dirt; then he lost his balance and sprawled on the ground.
“Are you OK?” Michelle asked anxiously.
“Sort of,” he replied, wincing. “But we can’t quit now. The Lamanites didn’t quit until all their weapons were buried.” He gritted his teeth determinedly.
“How about trying this?” Michelle suggested, handing him a garden trowel that they used in their sandpile.
Jackson took it and chipped at the dirt while Michelle dug with a stick.
Soon they were covered with dust and dirt, but the hole was dug. They put all the papers with the unkind words written on them into the hole. Then they pushed the dirt back.
“Are you finished yet?” Mother called from the kitchen window. “I’ve made some hot muffins for my two hungry Anti-Nephi-Lehies.”
“Yes,” answered Jackson. “Our weapons are finally buried!”
“And,” Michelle solemnly declared, “we won’t ever use them again!”

These three youth from the Edmond Third Ward in Stillwater, Oklahoma, are “crazy-good” wake boarders. Last summer Rachel Orgill, Ashley Merkley, and Isaac Cordy entered the Oklahoma City River Wakeboarding tournament. Just to let everyone know who they were and what they stood for, they made a big poster and individual T-shirts declaring themselves the “Stormin’ Mormons.”
They had a great time competing on Saturday, and to their surprise, each one made the tournament finals in their divisions. The problem was, the finals were on Sunday. Without hesitation, all three notified the event coordinators that they would not be competing in the finals because they would be observing the Sabbath. The coordinators were surprised the youth were willing to pay to enter the tournament and now were giving up sure prizes and placements as finalists.
The three friends had the opportunity to explain their decision to many in the crowd and to the other competitors, who overwhelmingly thought it was “cool” that their convictions were more important to them than winning.

I went through a time when I began to wonder if the Church was really the only true church on the earth. My friends all seemed to believe that their churches were true, and they are good people with high standards.
I set a goal to gain a testimony. I knew it would take time. I prayed, studied the scriptures, and made sure I attended all my Church meetings and activities. I really listened and asked questions, and I thought about all my parents had taught me. After I truly understood the gospel, I began to learn more about my friends’ churches. As I talked with my friends, I realized how fulfilling the gospel is in my life. As I shared with them my beliefs, I realized that I did know that the Church is true. A feeling came over me that was so great.
Don’t ever give up. A desire to gain a testimony is a sign that you are building one already.
Kerianna Copeland, 14Franklin, Pennsylvania

In September I was invited to give a talk about my conversion at Stake Conference. I was so nervous, but I knew that I had the Holy Spirit with me and I knew that what I was about to say was true. At university I studied Egyptology and Ancient History, and the knowledge I acquired has helped to strengthen my testimony regarding the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I have been able to find many links between the Book of Mormon and the civilisation of ancient Egypt.

On the day of my baptism I was nervous – not about the decision that I had made to become a member of the church, nor about my belief in our Saviour Jesus Christ and the Book of Mormon – but because I was worried about being fully immersed in water. However, I should not have worried. I cannot adequately describe the feeling I felt as I was immersed and raised out of the font feeling clean, fresh, pure and rebuilt. As I was confirmed I could feel the Holy Spirit at work. I had a tingling sensation down my spine, I felt calm, strong, and galvanised. I still feel the Holy Spirit with me, especially when I study the scriptures and pray to Heavenly Father. When the Holy Spirit is near I feel goosebumps on my arms and legs, and this sensation gives me comfort, and I know that I will never be alone.

My life has changed dramatically since my baptism. I continued with my weekly lessons with the missionaries to help further my knowledge and understanding of the Book of Mormon. I have spoken publicly regarding my testimony and I have written an article for the Liahona.
I love going to sacrament meetings every week, I have joined the choir and I defy anyone not to leave a Sunday service with a big smile across their face and a feeling of empowerment for the week ahead. I have repaired the relationships within my biological family, but I have also gained a new ‘church family’ and I have a genuine love for the brothers and sisters in my ward.
I am a much happier and far less stressed person since becoming a member of the Church. Everyone has noticed and commented on it, and I am so happy that my husband decided to be baptised too. I look forward to our future – serving in the church, participating in ordinances, attending the temple, and being sealed to my husband for all eternity.
The gospel has transformed my life and for the first time in a long time I am hopeful and excited to see what Heavenly Father has planned for me.

Sofía was almost eight years old. She was getting ready to be baptized. She was learning lots of important things. One thing she had learned about was prayer. She knew she could pray to Heavenly Father anytime. She knew she could pray anyplace.
One day Sofía and Mama decided to visit Papa at work. It would be a long trip. Papa worked in another town. They would have to ride on a bus, then in a truck, and then in a taxi.
During the bus ride, Sofía fell asleep. She woke up when she heard a baby crying. A mom and dad with a baby had gotten on the bus. The baby was sick and crying loudly. The baby’s parents looked worried.
Sofía felt sorry for the baby. She felt sorry for the parents too. Then she had an idea. She whispered in Mama’s ear. “Could I say a prayer and ask Heavenly Father to bless the baby?”
“Of course,” Mama said with a smile.
Sofía bowed her head and said a silent prayer. She prayed hard. She asked Heavenly Father to bless the baby. She asked Him to help the baby feel better and stop crying.
Sofía knew that we do not always get what we pray for. She also knew that our prayers are not always answered right away. But in a short time, the baby calmed down. Then the baby stopped crying. She seemed to feel better. Her parents did not look so worried.
Sofía felt warm and happy inside. She was happy for the baby—and for the baby’s parents. She knew Heavenly Father had heard her prayer.

My Grandfather Rose was very ill with heart problems. To help my grandmother with his care, our family decided that we would take turns sleeping at my grandparents’ house to help out. My mother and my aunts went over most often, but one weekend I asked if I could spend the night.
I was reclining in a chair next to my grandfather’s bed. He was sleeping well that night, which was unusual. I was just falling asleep myself when my granddad rolled over and said, “Carl, shape up.” Then he rolled back over and went back to sleep.
I didn’t know what he meant. I wasn’t a bad kid. But I wasn’t able to fall asleep the rest of the night. I stayed up thinking about what my granddad meant by telling me to “shape up.”
I thought about his words for the next few days, trying to figure out what I needed to shape up in my life. A few days later, I went again to my grandparents’ home to rub my grandfather’s back. I finished that and sat down to talk to my grandma. She said, “Carl, Granddad prays that you will gain the desire to serve a mission for the Lord.”
Later that night I was working at my gymnastics exercises. I heard my coach yelling at me to concentrate. I was so caught up thinking about the conversation that I had with my grandma and the decision I had to make that it was hard for me to work out. I was torn between a college scholarship for gymnastics and a mission.
As I was lying in bed later that night, I thought back to my granddad saying, “Carl, shape up.” I thought about whether my priorities were where they should be. They weren’t. I realized that my number-one priority was gymnastics, not the Lord and his work. I finally figured out what my granddad meant. He meant that I needed to shape up my soul and my mind. The only way to do that was to start going to seminary and church.
Not long after I began to “shape up,” I read the Book of Mormon for the first time in my life. As I did, I took the prophet Moroni’s advice and prayed about the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith. Through these exercises, I not only gained the desire to serve a mission, but I also found the light and life of the world, Jesus Christ.

We pioneer when we quietly and humbly, in large ways and small, follow faithfully and endure to the end. Consider the faithfulness of Yenny Figueredo of Paraguay and her family, who at one time lived five kilometers from the nearest branch of the Church. “Since there were eight of us, it cost too much for bus fare. So we all had to walk—two hours each way. We made that trip every Saturday for Primary and Mutual. And since Sunday meetings were held both morning and afternoon, we would make the round trip twice—a total of twenty kilometers. When it was really hot, we would sometimes take our lunch and sit under a tree between meetings. From the day we were baptized, I don’t remember that we ever missed a meeting” (quoted in Marvin K. Gardner, “Pioneers in Paraguay,” Tambuli, September 1993, 11).

I was excited when Mom told me that Sean was coming for dinner.
He’s my big brother, but he doesn’t live at home anymore. He moved out when he finished high school. My other brother, Mike, went on a mission when he finished high school, but Sean doesn’t even go to church. He’s a great brother, though, and I love him. I especially love it when he teases me. When I was smaller, he let me take horsey rides on his back. He ran all over the yard with me hanging onto his neck and him holding onto my legs. I hollered, “Giddy-up!” and pretended to whip him, and he snorted and bucked around like a real horse.
I’m too big for that now, so, instead, he shows me wrestling moves. He won the city wrestling championship in the eleventh grade. I was really proud of him that night. Sometimes we throw the football around, and sometimes we just sit and talk. I was really looking forward to his coming over tonight because I wanted him to help me make my pinewood derby racer. Sean is good with his hands, and I like to work with him in the garage.
I helped Mom set the table to make the waiting go faster. As I put the knives and forks out, I noticed that something was wrong. “Hey, you have too many plates on the table,” I said.
“No, dear. Sean is coming tonight, remember, and so are the missionaries.”
“The missionaries!” I cried, slamming down the last fork. “Why do we have to have the missionaries when Sean is here? I wanted to have him to myself. I wanted it to be a special night.”
Mom looked at me in surprise. “It can still be a special night,” she replied gently. “The missionaries are nice young men. I’m sure you’ll like them.”
That’s all she knew about it. How could Sean play and work with me when the missionaries were there? I knew that he’d be polite and spend his time talking to them.
By the time Sean arrived, I had worked myself into a real lather. He could tell I wasn’t happy, but I knew better than to tell him why. Mom and Dad would be really disappointed if I ever complained about the missionaries to him. More than anything else in the world, they wanted him to come back to church. So did I, but I didn’t think talking all night to the missionaries would make it happen.
When the missionaries arrived, Mom had dinner all ready, so we sat right down to eat. Everyone had a good time. Mom was right—the missionaries were great guys. They cracked jokes with Sean, and both faked surprise when he told them he had wrestled in high school. Sean’s not my big brother just because he’s older, but also because he’s big. Not fat and flabby big, but muscle and bone big.
Dinner ended with everyone laughing and joking. Then it happened. Elder Blair asked if he could leave a message and a prayer before they went on to their next appointment. Well, this is the end of the night for me, I thought, my head sagging. Sean won’t be helping me with my racer tonight. He was going to escape before anyone could talk religion to him.
I waited for the scraping back of his chair, the excuse why he couldn’t stay. But nothing happened. Slowly I looked up, and he was still there, watching Elder Blair thumb through his Book of Mormon. When Elder Blair found what he wanted, he read a few verses. Then he started asking Sean questions. Mom and Dad just sat there looking worried and hopeful. Sean answered each question in a humorous kind of way. He had stayed because he enjoyed having fun with the missionaries, and now he was going to go on joking even though the elders were being serious.
Suddenly Elder Meeks, the skinny one, caught on to what Sean was doing. “Sean,” he said, looking him straight in the eye, “do you believe in Jesus Christ?”
The whole atmosphere in the room changed. Sean looked back at him, but instead of answering in an offhand way, he very softly said, “Yes.”
“Then why are you making fun of what we’re saying?”
I looked at Mom. She had tears in her eyes. Dad did, too. What’s the matter with them? I wondered. Were they upset with Sean or with the missionaries?
Sean and Elder Meeks continued talking, Elder Meeks asking questions and Sean giving him straight answers. Finally Elder Meeks said, “Sean, when was the last time you went to church?” Sean shrugged and looked at Mom and Dad for help, but they both shook their heads. They couldn’t remember, either.
I could remember—not the date, but how happy I had felt sitting beside him, feeling proud to be his brother, how glad I was to sing along with him, even though he couldn’t sing very well. I wanted to tell them all this, but suddenly there was a big lump in my throat, and I wasn’t sure I could speak.
“Sean,” Elder Meeks asked, “will you go to church with us on Sunday?”
Sean was looking at his hands. I couldn’t see his face, but we could all see his head slowly nod up and down. The lump in my throat grew bigger, and now I had tears in my eyes, too. Everyone in the room was crying, but we all had smiles on our faces.
As I looked from face to face, I paused at Sean and Elder Meeks. I didn’t see a scrawny elder and a wrestling champion. I saw David and Goliath. Once again David had saved the day because he had the Spirit of the Lord with him. That’s why we were all crying—we could feel that Spirit, and it felt good.
I love my brother Sean, but at that moment I wanted to be like Elder Meeks. I wanted to have the Lord on my side all the time, and I think Sean did, too. Mom was right. This had been a special evening. I had seen David, unafraid, go into battle with Goliath, and they had both won!

A scripture that really helped me when I was young is Joshua 1:6–9. It says, in part: “Be strong and of a good courage. … Observe to do according to all the law. … Turn not from it to the right hand or to the left, that thou mayest prosper.”
As a young man, I thought, “Once I receive an assignment from the Lord, I will not turn to the right or to the left.” I had some good experiences as a result. For instance, one day while I was in business training, I had to go to a Church meeting, but I had a work responsibility related to the mail. Normally this responsibility would take me and the other trainees as much as an extra hour after our regular work hours. But I had to go to Hamburg on the 5:30 p.m. train to get to my Church meeting. I told the others of my dilemma, and they said to me, “Good luck. It is not going to happen.”
I said, “Sure it will, because this is an important meeting.” They shrugged their shoulders and said sarcastically, “Yeah sure—you and your faith. You think just because you are religious that everything is going to work out. That means that we would have to finish the mail by 10 minutes to 5:00. It has never happened.” I said, “Well, whatever happens will happen. But I need to be in Hamburg on time tonight.”
Now, believe it or not, for the first and only time in three years, everything was finished that day at 10 minutes to 5:00, and I made it to the train on time. This impressed my fellow trainees and opened the door for me to have some gospel conversations with them.

During the early days of the Great Depression, six stake presidents from the Salt Lake Valley joined together to grapple with the darkening clouds of poverty and hunger that threatened to overwhelm so many members of the Church.1 Although the economic crisis affected people everywhere, Utah in particular had been devastated.2
At that time, Church leaders had few resources to help those in need. They could use fast offerings, of course, but the chronic need dwarfed anything they had ever experienced. Under the direction of the Presiding Bishopric, a Deseret Employment Bureau had been founded in the early 1900s. But it was not adequately equipped to handle such massive need.
These six priesthood leaders knew that if the people of their stakes were to be helped, they could not wait. They would have to take immediate action. They began by putting people to work. They organized the men and took them to fields where they could harvest crops. In exchange for their labor, grateful farmers generously donated food to the men. The surplus was taken to a storehouse and distributed to others who were hungry. As donations grew, the Saints began canning food to preserve it. This was the beginning of the modern-day welfare program.

As a young man, I stood at the fence of an international airport and watched those magnificent flying machines.1 The take-offs and landings were a miraculous sight. One that stirred my soul! How I wanted to be in the cockpit of one of those impressive airplanes and feel the thrill of rising up from the ground, climbing above the clouds, and traveling unto new horizons.

But was that dream possible? I was not born into wealth. My family had twice been refugees, taking only what we could carry. I was considered by some to be an outsider. While other children played with their friends, I had to spend my afternoons and weekends working in our family laundry business, often as a delivery boy.

I say this because some of you might also be wondering if your dreams will ever become reality. I understand what you are feeling. If I could go back in time and talk to that young boy who stood on the other side of the fence yearning for a better future, I would say:
“It’s not going to be easy, but you can do it. You will be all right. The journey will be filled with challenges, Dieter. But the struggle itself will transform you into the person you want to be. Work hard. Be consistent. Focus on the things you can change, not so much on the things you cannot change. Have faith. Have hope. Trust in God. Know that if you do your part, things will work out.”
This is also my advice to you today.

When Elder Abrea was president of the Argentina Rosario Mission, his daughters noted that he regularly interviewed all the missionaries under his direction. They asked him for the same one-on-one opportunity. Through these interviews, he has often provided exactly the counsel his daughters needed to handle problems. His technique is not to tell them just what to do; instead, they talk about the problems and arrive at a solution together. “Things that seem really difficult for me seem easy for him,” Claudia comments.

I just finished reading “When a Friend Dies” in the April 1987 issue, and I really feel strongly to write and thank you for this article. Two weeks ago four of my friends died in an accident. When I heard what had happened, I was totally shocked. Then it sank in and pain and emptiness just overwhelmed me. That day when I went to school everyone was upset and felt the same sense of loss that I felt.
But the understanding of the gospel, my prayers, and the scriptures have helped me to understand and go on with my life.
The pain of losing such good friends is still there, and I will never forget them. But now when I have that giant question “Why?” I can go back to this article and it will definitely help me out.
Thank you so much for your perfect timing, your wonderful magazine, and the best article in the world.