Gospel Story Finder

Sometimes I think about the little notes that Mom puts in my school lunch box. One last week read, “Thanks for clearing the table last night. I love you.” My best friend, Matt Nielsen, read it, and at first I was kind of embarrassed, but then he said that I had a cool mom. So I showed him two other notes that I had in my coat pocket, along with the big marble I won from Larkin Gipson, the best marble player ever.
Right now I’m looking down at the water under the bridge and thinking about getting baptized next Saturday. I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately. I’m glad that the water in the font will be warm and not cold like the water under the bridge. A kid could freeze in it. And the water in the font will be deeper than in the creek because I have to go all the way under, just as Jesus did.
A pale gold leaf just dropped off a big cottonwood tree and landed on the water, and right beside it there is something else reflected in the water—my dad! He often comes and sits beside me, and we look and listen and think together.
Yes, I like it here. The red and yellow woods. The bridge. My dad. And that new feeling that I keep feeling on the inside—warm, deep down.
Maybe I’ll show the missionaries my secret bridge. After all, they shared something special with me!

About eight years ago I set a goal to finish reading the Book of Mormon before the end of the year. It had been a couple of years since I had started it, and I read a lot during November and December to complete my goal. Perhaps it was the holiday season, or perhaps just my marathon reading toward the end, but I found that Joseph Smith’s words were true when he said “a man would get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts, than by any other book” (“Introduction,” Book of Mormon). Because of the way I felt, I set a new goal to read the Book of Mormon before Christmas the next year.
The first year I read all the Book of Mormon, I wrote the date and described my feelings on a note, which I put on the title page. The next year, when I read the Book of Mormon from Christmas to Christmas, I attached another note.
Now I read the Book of Mormon every year. Each time I finish, I immediately read the first verse of 1 Nephi so I’ve already started my reading for the next year.
President Ezra Taft Benson, 13th president of the Church, promised many blessings if we will read the Book of Mormon again and again.
“I bless you with increased understanding of the Book of Mormon. I promise you that from this moment forward, if we will daily sup from its pages and abide by its precepts, God will pour out upon each child of Zion and the Church a blessing hitherto unknown” (Ensign, May 1986, 78).
I love to finish the Book of Mormon each year just before Christmas. It has become my favorite tradition because it helps me feel closer to the Savior. My increased understanding of the book helps me with the difficulties of this life. I know I have received the blessings, even miracles, that President Benson promised.

Ruth has a love for children that she gained in part from her own youth. Many of Ruth’s childhood summers were spent in Springville, Utah, with her Aunt Millie Reynolds Martain. Aunt Millie was the midwife for that area, and like the old horse-and-buggy country doctor, many nights—good weather or bad—she would go out to help some new child into the world.

When Ruth was visiting her, Millie would take her along. Ruth would wait outside until the baby had come and then be called in to help give the newborn his first bath.

It was a beautiful tradition that helped teach her reverence for life; she has carried it on with each of her grandchildren. Wherever it happens, when they come into the world, Grandmother Funk is there to welcome them. Her careful attention and investment of time and love has developed into a close relationship with each of her grandchildren.

I felt so different from everyone my age. Even if I was invited to hang out with friends and my parents encouraged me to go, I struggled to have fun because I felt guilty that my parents had so much to do at home. Other times I would have a hard time enjoying myself when Barbara was struggling with her health. Most of the time, I just wanted a friend to sit down with me and listen.

Sometimes I felt like no one understood what I was going through. But a few things helped remedy that loneliness. I decided I’d try to reach out to people who might be feeling similarly. When I did go to activities or church, I tried to include those who were sitting alone or who looked like they were having a bad day. As Elder Gerrit W. Gong of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught, “Miracles occur when we care for each other as He would.” 1 And I saw miracles come into my life. I felt much more comfortable going to activities and was happier when I offered love to others.

I saw this miracle of comfort as I arrived outside the chapel where the funeral of the little boy was to be held. I was stopped by a lovely young woman I did not recognize. She said that she was coming to the funeral to mourn and to give comfort if she could.
She said that she had come to the funeral in part for comfort for herself. She told me that her first child had died recently. She was carrying in her arms a beautiful little girl. I leaned toward her to look into the little girl’s smiling face. I asked the baby’s mother, “What is her name?” Her quick and cheerful answer was “Her name is Joy. Joy always comes after sorrow.”
She was bearing her witness to me. I could see that the peace and comfort had come to her from the only sure source. Only God knows hearts, and so only He can say, in truth, “I know how you feel.” So I can only imagine both her joy and the sorrow that preceded it, but the Lord, who loves her, knows.

“Triple, tap, step. Triple, tap, step.” Tanya could hear Mrs. Nimitz’s dance students in the adjoining room clicking their tap shoes in time to her instructions.
For as long as Tanya could remember, she had wanted to take tap dancing lessons, but her parents had never been able to afford them. Now she had a chance to earn them for herself.
Today while Mrs. Nimitz was teaching her advanced class, Tanya was baby-sitting for her. If everything went well, she would have the job of tending two-year-old Cathy from three until five on Monday and Wednesday afternoons.
Mr. Nimitz came home early on Fridays, so he watched his little daughter during his wife’s class for beginners. And Tanya intended to ask Mrs. Nimitz if instead of paying her, she would allow her to be a member of that Friday afternoon class.
Nine-year-old Tanya had never baby-sat before, but she was sure that she could do the job.
Cathy was napping, so Tanya relaxed and decided to fix herself a snack. Mrs. Nimitz had said that it would be OK.
Tanya carefully lifted the lid of the cookie jar and smelled the sweet aroma of butter and cinnamon. As she reached in for a cookie, she thought how good it would taste with a cup of hot chocolate.
I bet I could make some, she decided. I’m sure Mrs. Nimitz wouldn’t mind, as long as I clean up after myself.
She measured a cup of milk into a saucepan and placed it on the stove. She had just turned the burner on, when slam!
That sounds like the bathroom medicine cabinet! Tanya thought as she dashed down the hallway. “Cathy?” she called. “Is that you?”
She found Cathy standing on the clothes hamper by the sink, peering intently into the medicine cabinet mirror.
When Cathy saw Tanya’s reflection in the mirror, she said, “I like lipstick!” Turning to face Tanya, she added, “See! I pretty!”
Tanya couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t heard a sound until the cabinet door slammed, but there stood Cathy, her face painted bright red from cheek to cheek. Her hands were streaked with lipstick, and the bathroom sink was ringed with red fingerprints.
If Mrs. Nimitz sees this, Tanya thought, I’ll never get my lessons. Oh, how can things go so wrong so quickly!
“Cathy! Look at you! You’re a mess!” Tanya scolded.
“Mess?” Cathy giggled as she held two chubby hands out to have Tanya help her down off the hamper.
Tanya smiled in spite of herself. “Come on, let’s clean you up before your mother sees you.”
She had the lipstick off Cathy’s face and was starting to scrub her hands when she heard a splashing, sizzling sound. “The milk!” Tanya cried, dropping the washcloth and racing into the kitchen.
The pungent odor of scorched milk stung her nostrils. She grabbed a pot holder and was taking the smoking pan from the burner when the kitchen door opened and Mrs. Nimitz peeked in.
“I thought I smelled something burning,” she said.
Tanya wished that she could sink out of sight. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Nimitz. I was heating some milk for hot chocolate when Cathy woke up. I went to get her and forgot about the milk. I’ll clean it up.”
“Mama!” Cathy cried out as she toddled into the kitchen. “See! I mess!” Then she held her lipstick-red hands out to her mother. Mrs. Nimitz walked past Cathy and into the bathroom.
Tanya choked back the tears. “I’m sorry, I …” But Mrs. Nimitz didn’t seem to hear Tanya.
“Never mind. I’ll have to clean it up later,” she said, greatly irritated.
As quickly as she had appeared, Mrs. Nimitz disappeared, shutting the door hard behind her.
Tears of disappointment spilled down Tanya’s cheeks. She slumped into the nearest kitchen chair and began to sob as if her heart would break.
“Don’t cry.” Tanya felt a tiny hand patting her arm.
She pulled the little girl to her and gave her an affectionate hug.
“It’s OK,” she said through her tears. “I guess I just expected everything to go perfectly.” Then, trying to be cheerful, she added, “Come on, Cathy, let’s see what we can do to straighten things up around here. I may not get any dance lessons, but at least I won’t feel like running and hiding every time I see your mother coming.”
Tanya gently scrubbed the lipstick from Cathy’s hands and arms. Then she put a heavy plastic bib on the little girl and let her help scour the bathroom sink.
In the kitchen, Tanya assigned Cathy to rinse out the cleanup cloths. Cathy was so enthusiastic that Tanya had to mop up the spills. But as the mop was returned to the closet, Cathy clapped her hands and proclaimed, “All clean!” Everything was too. Not a hint of lipstick or scorched milk could be seen.
An hour later the kitchen door opened. Tanya braced herself.
Mrs. Nimitz glanced at the kitchen range. “I’ll get my purse and pay you for today,” she said as she started down the hall.
Mrs. Nimitz paused just a moment outside the bathroom doorway before going on to her bedroom. As she came back down the hall, Tanya watched intently. But Mrs. Nimitz’s expression told her nothing.
“Tanya,” Mrs. Nimitz began in a serious tone. “I can’t believe what a responsible little girl you are. If I hadn’t peeked in earlier, I wouldn’t have ever guessed that you had had any trouble today. You did a fine job of cleaning up. And Cathy hasn’t even been at the door once crying for me.” She smiled at Tanya. “Yes, I think that you’re just the girl for this job. Would you like me to pay you each time you come or by the week?”
“Pay me? No. I mean … I’d like to … Oh, Mrs. Nimitz, could I take dance lessons instead of being paid?”
“Dance lessons? Why, yes. A lesson for one day’s work would be a good trade. But I’ll pay you for the other day. All right?”
“That’s great!” Tanya exclaimed, hardly able to keep herself from jumping up and down.
As she skipped home, she thought, I guess dreams really can come true. You just have to work at them a little.

During his second day of freedom, while he was walking down a street, he was interrupted by someone tapping him on his shoulder. Turning, he faced John Klusak, his chief accuser. “He was much frightened and begged me to forgive him as he did not know at that time what he was doing.” Klusak was convinced that “the Lord had punished him very severely,” said the elder, because the man’s only son was dying of smallpox and his mother had become gravely ill. The elder forgave him but said that the troubled man would have to ask God for His forgiveness. The son died two days later.
Because newspapers carried his picture and said such evil things about Mormons, Elder Biesinger could not do effective missionary work anymore in Bohemia. While waiting for money from mission headquarters in Bern to pay for transportation out of Prague, he sent Church literature to all of the friends he had made while in prison. Then, on June 21, 1884, before leaving the city by evening train, he baptized and confirmed Anthon Just, his other accuser, in a nearby river.

On a cold winter day several years ago, I visited one of the branches in Dnipropetrovsk, Ukraine. It was fast Sunday, and we warmed ourselves in the glow of the testimonies borne in the poorly heated, rented space where we were meeting.
I especially recall the testimony of one sister whose inspired face I can still see in my mind. She was a single mother. She and her one-year-old child lived in the dormitory of the factory where she worked. Economic conditions were not good. Her wages were low and paid irregularly. Despair and then eventual hope in God brought her to the gospel.
Not long after her baptism, she was preparing food for herself and her child when a young woman who lived in the same building said: “I know things are difficult for you. Like me, you are a single mother, earning low wages, with no place of your own to live. There is little hope of a good future for yourself and your child. Like me, you have a gray, dull life. Like me, you fear for your child and the uncertainty of tomorrow. But why are you always smiling and your eyes always shining? Why does joy light up your face?”
The questions made this sister stop and think about the changes that had occurred since her baptism. As she gained faith in Jesus Christ, the fear that had corroded her life had disappeared. The path back to the Father that opened before her had permitted her to have hope, which had led her to baptism and developed within her a certainty of a tranquil and happy future for her small family. By receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost, she had received a firm testimony. The false values of the world gradually gave way to the higher values of the gospel, and these higher values became a firm foundation for both thought and deed. She realized that it was precisely these changes that had given her a new outlook on the world. Long-awaited joy and peace had come into her life.

Not long ago I listened at length to a couple who sat across the desk from me. There was bitterness between them. I know that at one time their love was deep and true. But each had developed a habit of speaking of the faults of the other. Unwilling to forgive the kind of mistakes we all make, and unwilling to forget them and live above them with forbearance, they had carped at one another until the love they once knew had been smothered. It had turned to ashes with the decree of a so-called no fault divorce. Now there is only loneliness and recrimination. I am satisfied that had there been even a small measure of repentance and forgiveness, they would still be together, enjoying the companionship that had so richly blessed their earlier years.

“You know, this reminds me of something that happened to me about a year ago in the Netherlands.”
Great. An inspiring missionary story. I sighed and settled against my pillows to listen, resolving that nothing he could say would make me change my mind.
“One afternoon, my companion noticed we’d run out of milk, and since we had a really busy day ahead of us, we decided to pick some up at a small store on our way home from our last teaching appointment. We’d been walking everywhere all day long, and we were pretty tired by the time we bought the milk. The girl at the register rushed us through her line without really looking at us, and it wasn’t until we made it back to our apartment that I noticed we had more money than before we’d bought the milk.”
I lifted my eyebrows at him. “Really? How so?”
“Money in the Netherlands is called guilders. A five-guilder piece is about the same size as a 500-guilder piece, and they look alike, too. As part of my change, she should’ve given me a five guilder, but instead, she’d given me a 500 by mistake. So, in American terms, she’d given me five dollars back instead of five cents.”
“Wow. Of course, you took the money back, right?”
“I wasn’t going to. I mean, it was her mistake, not mine, right? It was late, we were both tired, and it was a good 15-minute walk back to the store. Plus, an extra five dollars would’ve helped us out that month. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more angry I became thinking about the position that girl’s thoughtlessness had put me in. I knew I wasn’t a dishonest person, and I hated feeling like I was one if I didn’t take back an insignificant 500-guilder piece.”
“It’s not fair.”
“No, Jenn, it’s not. Everything isn’t always fair. If it was, we’d never learn a thing. Realizing this, my companion and I walked back to the store, barely arriving before closing time. The girl was still there, counting the register’s money, rubbing her head and looking pretty worried. She looked up when we came in, both of us in our suits and nametags, and said, ‘You two were here before, weren’t you?’ I simply said yes, and put the 500 guilder on the counter between us. ‘We bought some milk today, and I think you gave us too much change.’ She looked so relieved I thought she was going to cry. ‘I’ve been trying to count my register’s money for almost an hour now, and I couldn’t figure out where I went wrong.’ She looked at us curiously then said, ‘You’re Mormons, aren’t you?’ I laughed and asked her what gave us away. She laughed, too, before saying that she couldn’t believe we’d come back. When I asked her why, she said, ‘Because no one here has ever done that before.’
“Later, the realization came to me that we may have been the first real contact she’d ever had with the Church, and even though we hadn’t taught her a discussion, we’d left her with the knowledge that Mormons are honest people, and that maybe it would help her become a little curious about our church.” He picked up my receipt and fiddled with it before continuing.
“One of the questions you’re asked during a temple recommend interview is whether or not you’re honest in all of your dealings. Honesty is a hard principle to live—harder than most people realize. There will be plenty of times in your life when being honest won’t leave you with a good, warm feeling at first. Often times, you may walk away feeling frustrated—even angry. Especially concerning financial matters, where every dime counts. Five-hundred guilders here, $150 there may seem insignificant. But little by little, something much more valuable is being lost: your integrity.
“Strengthening your integrity through honesty takes a lot of hard work—work that often goes unnoticed or unappreciated. But the payoff comes when you realize that each time you’re honest, it’s that much easier to be honest when the next challenge comes around. That’s when you know you’re building character, one of the most important works you can spend your time on. Your character and integrity are far too precious to sell for $150—or for 500 guilders.”

Elder Sorensen loved sports and excelled in football, basketball, and baseball in high school in Salt Lake City. As a younger boy, however, he played baseball with the neighborhood boys in an open field, with a black friction-taped ball, a few gloves, and one old bat. “My mother wanted me to learn to play the piano,” Elder Sorensen said, “and she persevered for about six months, but she had a hard time getting me to practice, especially when I wanted to be out playing baseball. However, I had enough musical training so that when I was in the mission field, I could play about fourteen or fifteen hymns. I wish I had practiced more!
“I remember the excitement of being chosen as a crossing guard in sixth grade and how cold it was walking in the snow all the way to the school on the hill when I was in seventh grade. My biggest challenge was applying myself in school. I was more interested in sports and other things. Then, in junior high school, I was stimulated to learn so that I gained a balance in my life. I was able to pull up my grades and earn a scholarship.
“Serving a mission in Brazil was a great turning point in my life,” declared Elder Sorensen. “When I was twenty and had just completed two years of college at the University of Chicago on an academic/athletic scholarship, I had doubts about my going on a mission. When I returned home that summer, Mom said to me, ‘Well, now you can prepare for your mission.’
“Elder Sorensen told his mother that he had changed his mind and didn’t think that he would serve a mission. “I’ll never forget the hurt look on Mom’s face,” he recalled, “after I told her my decision. She didn’t scold me, but afterward she privately cried and prayed.
“I didn’t go back to school in Chicago that fall. With the help of Mom and Dad and a wise and understanding bishop, I accepted a mission call to Brazil and left for South America in 1940.
“It wasn’t very long after I arrived in the mission field and began studying the scriptures regularly that my testimony really began to grow. Since then it has never wavered but has grown stronger. I’m grateful to the Lord and my parents for guiding me at that very important crossroad.
“Children, listen to your parents. They love you more than anyone else does, except your Father in Heaven, who has an even greater capacity to love. If you follow their good teachings and example, you will always be happy that you did. And remember to follow the counsel and guidance of Church leaders, particularly your bishop.”

Isabelle was happy that it was spring. She liked to listen to the birds. She liked to play in the green grass.
Isabelle was happy it was time for Easter. She knew Easter was a special day. On Easter we celebrate when Jesus came back to life.
In Primary, Sister Martin gave crayons to all the children in class. She asked them to draw the greatest gift Heavenly Father gave them.
Michael drew a picture of his family.
Eliza drew a picture of her friend.
Anthony drew a picture of his house.
Isabelle looked at the drawings. They were very good.
Isabelle thought about what she should draw. She was happy to have a family. She was happy to have friends. She was happy to have a house.
Then Isabelle thought about another gift that Heavenly Father gave all people. He gave everyone the gift of a Savior. Isabelle picked up her crayons. She drew a picture of Jesus Christ.
Sister Martin asked Isabelle what she drew.
“I drew a picture of Jesus,” Isabelle said. “He is the greatest gift.”

Illustration by Roger Motzkus
I stared out the window as I washed my hands in the kitchen sink. It was a very warm summer day and the birds were singing. The sun was bright and the grass was green. I could see the little dirt road that ran down the hill past our house to the fields, which were flooded again. This happened all the time when the water was let into the canal so the farmers could water.
I was just about to return to my afternoon hideout in my room when I got a sudden feeling that I should go play with my brothers. And even though I couldn’t hear them and I hadn’t seen them for hours, somehow I knew they were outside playing in the water.
Now, I really like my brothers. Blake was 5, and Morgan was almost 4. And even though I enjoyed spending time with them, I didn’t usually seek them out to play. But this time, I knew I needed to.
As I left the house, heading toward the flooded road and the ditch beyond, my main concern was that I didn’t want to get wet. A small children’s tricycle was sitting next to the road, so I used it like a scooter to begin my journey through the water.
The dirt road that led to the neighbor’s field ran on top of a culvert, a drainage pipe that carried water underneath the road and let the water out into the ditch on the other side. As I was making my way toward the culvert, I heard yelling and instantly knew I had to get there fast! Abandoning the tricycle, I ran through the water to the ditch. As the water drained through the culvert, it made a whirlpool. It was an impressive sight. But when I saw my brothers, I gasped.
Morgan had been sucked in! Blake was standing on one side of the culvert’s opening and Travis, our cousin who was the same age as Blake, was standing on the other side. The water was swirling around their legs and each of them was grasping one of Morgan’s hands. Only Morgan’s head and arms were above water. Only the desperate grips of two small boys were keeping him from being swept into the culvert.
Morgan went under the water. Blake and Travis pulled with all their might and were able to bring him up just far enough that his head came out of the water again. Thoughts of confusion and panic were rushing through my head. The one thing I remember thinking was that it was going to be hard to pull Morgan out of the water, like pulling your foot out of mud that’s halfway to your knees. But when I grabbed him and pulled, it was more like pulling a hot knife out of butter. He just slid out of the water.
The current from the whirlpool was so strong that it had pulled off Morgan’s shoes and socks. I bundled him up in the other boys’ shirts and laid him in a wagon and took him home.
After we got home and told Mom what happened, I went back down to the ditch to get Morgan’s stuff. What I saw there made my heart stop. On the other end of the culvert was a grate that had been welded on. It was there to keep anything other than water from leaving the culvert. The grate was full of garbage, and nothing bigger than a leaf was getting through. Had Morgan been pulled into the culvert, he wouldn’t have come out. He would have been stopped by that grate and drowned.
I know it was the Holy Ghost who gave me the impression to go play with my brothers that day, and it was because of the Holy Ghost that I knew where my brothers were. I’m thankful I have the Holy Ghost with me to help protect me and those I love. And I’m thankful I listened when I was inspired to go play with my brothers.

Our neighbor’s husband died several months ago, and my family and I have been helping her with yard work and just being friends with her. She is a very nice lady who believes in Jesus but doesn’t go to any church.
A few months ago the missionaries came to our Primary class and talked to us about missionary work. They encouraged us to share the gospel with someone. On the way home I told my parents I wanted to share the gospel with our neighbor.
As soon as we got home, I took a plate of cookies and my scriptures to her house. We read the Articles of Faith together, and then I visited with her and helped her do things in her house. I felt good inside when I shared the gospel of Jesus Christ. I know that we should all share the gospel when we can.

Kevin was the last one off the bus. It was hot, dusty, and dirty in this new town. But he didn’t notice. He sat down on a bench next to an old woman selling mangos. Elder Everritt came running over to sit down next to him.
“Elder,” he said, “wait until I tell you about this golden contact I’ve found. De puro oro.”
“Yeah, what happened?” Kevin asked.
“Two years, two years I’ve been waiting for a contact like this.”
“So tell me about it.”
“I was talking to that señor about the Book of Mormon. But it was all ‘ho-hum’ stuff to him. So I gave him a copy to read while I talked to his wife and mother. The señoras like the family home evening approach sometimes, so I tried that one out on them. And do you know what that señor did?”
“No, what?”
“He put the book down and started listening. Man, he was interested. It seems he was having troubles with his daughter and this was just what he wanted. I gave him the lección on the family home evening. But that wasn’t enough for him. So I gave him the first discussion and parts of the next three. And he knew it was true. Man, he knew it! He asked me for our address and the church’s address and our phone number and everything. I would’ve given him the baptismal challenge if we hadn’t been on a noisy chicken bus.”
“That’s really great,” Kevin said.
“I hope,” Elder Everritt said, “that you made a good impression on his daughter.”
“His daughter?” Kevin asked. “I’ve been in this country two days. How do I know his daughter?”
“Don’t try and fool me,” Elder Everritt said. “I saw you back there talking to her. You must have gotten to know her pretty well in two hours.”
“You mean …” Kevin stopped. He smiled. Then he grinned. Elder Everritt understood and was grinning too. Then they laughed together.

When I was six years old, my mother took me to the groundbreaking service for our new chapel in Santa Monica, California. As we arrived, Mother noticed that I had brought the small sand shovel that I usually took on our family outings to the beach. I had hoped that I could help by digging some ground at the chapel site. They let me use my shovel that first day, and my faith was increased because I helped to build a church for our Heavenly Father. My, how good I felt! The seeds of service and faith were planted in my heart. It is my wish to keep that same feeling of faith and desire to serve that I had as a six-year-old child.

There was a moment when I thought that leaving the Church was the answer to my problems because I just felt hopeless about everything. It is so easy to do what you’re not supposed to do in Iceland. The Church is so small here. It was just me and my siblings in our Church classes growing up. I felt lonely and for a while I didn’t like going to church.

Most people in Iceland push religion away. People start drinking at an early age. I got caught up in that, and I was inactive for a moment in my life. I’m not proud of that, but it’s a part of my experience and I learned from it. I studied a talk by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland and liked what he said: “The past is to be learned from but not lived in. … When we have learned what we need to learn … , then we look ahead, we remember that faith is always pointed toward the future.”1

One day when I was really struggling, I read my patriarchal blessing. As I read it, I realized that I do have a future. God has a plan for me, and He actually loves me. Going to church, taking the sacrament, reading the scriptures, and praying has brought so much light and happiness into my life. I soon realized, “This actually helps me.” That’s when I knew I always wanted the gospel in my life. After everything I’ve been through, I know that the gospel has saved my life, and I’m very happy about that.

Talking about my depression with family and friends has helped so much. It also led to more help. I didn’t want to take medications or go to therapy. I kept telling myself, “I have God.” But God provides many other tools, like medication and therapy, for us to use in addition to spiritual things.

As I started reading my scriptures more every day and getting closer to God through prayer, I received many blessings and revelations that my purpose is to help others. I feel like so many of us face mental health issues and we try to hide it. My depression and struggles have taught me that it’s better to open up and connect with others. My friend recently opened up to me about her struggle with depression. We talked about it and we truly understood each other.

We don’t always notice what others are struggling with, but I just walk around sometimes and look at other people and realize that God knows each and every one of us. He loves us and knows exactly what we are all going through. And we can help each other.

Through my struggles with depression, I’ve learned to ask, “What can I learn from this trial?” instead of “Why do I have this trial?” I love Ether 12:27, where it says that weak things can become strong if we have faith in Jesus Christ. This is always a comfort to me.

We all chose to come here to earth. We knew we were going to suffer through trials. And honestly that is what makes life great. Because we know there are good things to come. We know that if we follow the Savior throughout every hard phase, we can have eternal life and all these blessings that are waiting for us.

I’ve definitely noticed how I’ve changed through my depression. The Savior’s Atonement is real, my heart has been changed, and I’ve gotten stronger. I feel like I’m a different person than I once was. People notice and say, “You’ve changed.” One girl from school even said, “I see a difference and a light in you.” It’s weird because she isn’t even a member of the Church, and we hadn’t ever really talked before.

When I was in my worst depression, people would tell me, “It’s going to get better.” I would get so tired of hearing that but, as weird as it sounds, it’s true.

But you have to want to get better. I’ve learned that you can’t expect to get better by doing nothing. You have to want to be happy and believe that you have potential and a future. It’s important to remember that you are loved by so many people, including your Heavenly Father. They are all there to help you.

I never thought I would be as happy as I am now. Some days I still struggle, but with the tools Heavenly Father has given me, I can handle it. Now when I feel myself slipping into depression, I tell myself I am loved, I have people to talk to, and things will get better.

In English class, our teacher handed everyone an article that criticized The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and said we’d be discussing it the next day. As I read it, feelings of fear and anger welled up inside me. That night, I wrote a rather unkind “comeback list” in response to the article.
My mom listened to me rant about my plans for the discussion. I was a bit shocked when she said, “You need to pray about it.”
That night, I prayed for help and forgiveness. Then a verse popped into my head: “The spirit of contention is not of [God], but is of the devil, … and he stirreth up the hearts of men to contend with anger, one with another” (3 Nephi 11:29).
The next morning, I felt at peace. I knew that Heavenly Father wanted me to be kind. But when I got to class, I started to feel nervous.
Classmates spoke in favor of the article. I felt I should speak up, but I worried about failing or ruining my social life. Then I remembered a quote I saw on social media that morning from Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles: “Defend your beliefs with courtesy and with compassion, but defend them” (Apr. 2014 general conference [Ensign or Liahona, May 2014, 9]).
So I raised my hand and told them I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and clarified points in the article that were unclear or untrue. My hands trembled, but my words didn’t. The class stared at me, but I knew I did the right thing.
I learned that compassionately defending the gospel is a blessing, not a burden. The Spirit was with me, and I had an overwhelming feeling of love from Heavenly Father. I knew He was proud of me, and I was proud of myself too.
The author lives in Arizona, USA.

I love sparkly things. I always have. I love how sparkles capture and reflect light, and I think that’s why I love crystal chandeliers so much. I especially love the crystal chandeliers in the temple.
I remember reverently walking through a temple open house with my family when I was only nine years old. I’ll never forget standing under the chandeliers in the celestial room in absolute awe. I couldn’t believe how beautiful, clean, and white everything was.
When we walked out of the temple, my grandpa told me he had a gift for me. My eyes grew bigger as my grandpa pulled a sparkly necklace from his pocket. It was a long chain with a small, single crystal on the end—just like the ones in the temple.
“I made this for you,” my grandpa said as he tied the necklace around my neck. My grandpa is an electrician. He sells all kinds of beautiful light fixtures. He told me he made the necklace with an extra crystal from his shop and he wanted me to wear it so it would remind me of the temple.
He asked me to promise I would go to the temple someday, and he bore his testimony of how the temple had blessed his life and how it can bless everyone’s lives. Every time I wore my crystal necklace I would think of the temple and how I wanted to go inside. I always remembered that promise I made to my grandpa.
When I was finally old enough to go do baptisms at the temple, I loved every chance I got to go. In the temple, I have always felt connected to my Heavenly Father. And I will never forget the feeling I had after receiving my endowment. After that sacred experience, I walked into the celestial room and hugged my grandpa under the beautiful crystal chandelier.
My grandpa was right about how the temple can bless our lives. It has continued to bless me my entire life because it helps me remember my purpose here on earth.

Amber Martin and Kortney Kline are closer to earning their Young Women Personal Progress Award after organizing all the youth in the Valley Forge Pennsylvania Stake to donate their reading books to an inner-city school in Philadelphia. A stake youth dance was held and the “admission fee” was to bring some books. Amber and Kortney managed to collect over 500 books. These two young women said it was an awesome experience to give youth in their stake an opportunity to donate books to students in need.