Gospel Story Finder

I broke my arm while I was playing at school one day. I had to have surgery and stay in the hospital for two days. After I got out of the hospital, my mom and dad told me that one of my friends from my class had died that day. I was so sad because he was one of my best friends. My dad gave me a priesthood blessing. The blessing made me feel good inside. I am thankful that we know Heavenly Father will let us see our families and friends again.
Ethan L., age 9, Nevada, USA

Carrie Hamer, 16, of the Bloomington Ward, Minneapolis Minnesota Stake, sounds almost like she’s telling a mystery story.
“In the corner of the pastor’s house in Albig, West Germany, there were these extremely old books, hundreds of years old. I was amazed that he even let us go through them. We could see right away that the records in them took our family back six or seven generations, and so we were copying as fast as we could. When he went in the other room, we kneeled and prayed that he wouldn’t get irritated and make us leave, and that we could finish quickly.
“Way off in the corner we saw a copy machine. It was really strange, because this house was ancient. But he let us use these old books and put them right on the copy machine. We copied 118 pages, about 1,500 names, half of them our direct ancestors with their complete families. Without the photocopier, I think we’d still be scribbling notes, and who knows how many errors we could have made.”

About two months before his children turned eight years old, one father would set aside time each week to prepare them for baptism. His daughter said that when it was her turn, he gave her a journal and they sat together, just the two of them, and discussed and shared feelings about gospel principles. He had her draw a visual aid as they went along. It showed the premortal existence, this earth life, and each step she needed to take to return to live with Heavenly Father. He bore his testimony about each step of the plan of salvation as he taught it to her.

When his daughter recalled this experience after she was grown, she said: “I will never forget the love I felt from my dad as he spent that time with me. … I believe that this experience was a major reason I had a testimony of the gospel when I was baptized.” (See Teaching, No Greater Call, 129.)

Not since I left France in 1965 had I personally known another missionary called to serve there, until Sister Marian Ream departed from our ward for Paris in the winter of 1978. I wrote her letters of encouragement, and she responded with postcards telling me of the progress of the mission.
The following summer I was startled to find enclosed with her letter a picture of me and a junior companion taken in Versailles in 1964. Where had she found this picture?
“Dear Gladys,” her letter read, “A strange thing happened last week. We were at the Desmurs home to talk with them and get some copies of the Book of Mormon they had for us. When they found out I had always been a member of the Church, Sister Desmurs stood on a chair in her front room and got this picture down. She pointed to the missionary on the right and asked me if I knew her. I looked for a minute and said, ‘I’m not sure, but I think it’s Sister Farmer who lives in my ward in Provo, Utah.’ The whole family was very excited to think I might have identified this missionary. Sister Desmurs had tears in her eyes. She said it was because of the testimony of this sister that she had joined the Church. She had asked countless missionaries since if they could identify and help locate her.”
Sister Ream went on to describe the family to me. The father, now second counselor in the ward bishopric, had joined the Church several months after his wife’s baptism. The entire family of seven was active and very helpful to the missionaries.

Laura was having a lot of fun at the Primary activity. She liked being with her Primary friends.
But then Tyler came up to her and said, “Your dad is ugly. He wears glasses.”
Laura frowned and didn’t say anything.
“My brother said your dad is bad at basketball,” Tyler said. “He’s a geek!”
Laura felt tears coming to her eyes, so she ran out into the hall. She sat down, wrapped her arms around her knees, and cried.
Why was Tyler being so mean? she thought.
Laura looked up to see Sister Morris walking toward her.
“What’s the matter, Laura?” Sister Morris asked.
Laura took a deep breath and told Sister Morris what had happened. Sister Morris frowned.
“That was not very nice of Tyler to say those things,” Sister Morris said. “I will talk to him about treating others kindly.” She gave Laura a hug and held out a cookie. “Would you like a treat?” she asked.
Laura shook her head and wiped away her tears. “No, thanks.”
“How about if you come back to the activity and find someone else who would like a cookie?” Sister Morris said. She handed Laura the cookie.
Laura followed Sister Morris back to the Primary room. She liked to make other people happy. Laura looked around. She wondered who would want the cookie. Whitney, a new girl in Primary, was standing by the wall. She looked a little nervous.
Laura walked over to Whitney and held out the cookie.
“This is for you,” she said.
Whitney took the cookie and gave Laura a big smile.
Laura smiled back. Her tears were all gone. She felt much better.

I think of a story about President David O. McKay, ninth president of the Church, when he was a young lad. He was taught by his father to pray when confronted with a problem. When he was eight years of age, he received a new pocketknife on his birthday, and he recounts the experience of that day by telling how he got on his horse and rode out into the valley, made a fire, ate his lunch, and then got ready to return home.
As he began riding home, he remembered he had forgotten his new pocketknife, and so he quickly turned around and raced back to the same spot and searched in vain for his knife. He then remembered his father’s teaching, and because of the counsel of his father and his faith in him, he got on his knees and began to talk simply and earnestly to the Lord. In the midst of his prayer, he saw a vision come into his mind—a picture as clear as any TV picture—and there, as a picture in his mind, he saw his knife under a clump of weeds. He got up on his feet, looked around, walked directly to the scene he had just witnessed in his mind, and found his knife exactly as it had been revealed.
What a powerful lesson on faith in one’s father and faith in the Lord this young president-to-be learned that day. This kind of faith leads to spiritual and other accomplishments.

Several years ago when I was newly called as a Bishop of the Kaneohe 3rd ward I received a phone call from my employer who told me that they were closing down the branch that I was working at. I was in shock. They gave me a few options, all of which would mean moving to the mainland and leaving behind my recent call as a bishop. I had a strong belief that I had been called by the Lord and to move would mean not having faith in the Lord that he would provide. I talked to my wife and we decided that we would trust in the Lord and that all would work out. You can imagine I was nervous wondering how I would support my family and what would happen if I couldn't find a job, and one that would allow me to serve as Bishop. I called my employer and told them of my decision to stay in Hawaii and trusted that the Lord would provide. What happened next changed my life forever. A couple of weeks before the office closed I got a call from my current employer. I was offered a job that started the Monday following my last Friday at my previous employer.
I learned from that experience. At first I wondered why was this happening to me. I was just called as Bishop and I thought the Lord would take care of me as long as I did what I was supposed to do and yet I was being tested. I think the Lord knew what decision I would make, but I had to learn that if I put the Lord first in my life and expressed faith in Him, He would provide. Since that experience I have learned that through adversity we have the choice to draw closer to the Lord or move away from him. The experience gave me confidence that when I counseled members of my ward that I could without hesitation tell them to trust in the Lord. My faith was increased just as Nephi's was as a result of relying on the Lord to support and sustain me.

Sometimes people rejected the prophets because they were jealous of them and their power.

In the Book of Third Nephi when Nephi was ministering with great power, “they were angry with him, even because he had greater power than they” (3 Nephi 7:18). The people even saw Nephi raise his brother from the dead; “and the people saw it, and did witness of it, and were angry with him because of his power” (3 Nephi 7:20).

When Thomas Marsh came back to the Church after his disaffection, he explained what happened:
“I must have lost the Spirit of the Lord out of my heart. …
“I became jealous of the Prophet … and overlooked everything that was right, and spent all my time in looking for the evil; … I thought I saw a beam in Brother Joseph’s eye, but it was nothing but a mote, and my own eye was filled with the beam; … I got mad and I wanted everybody else to be mad. I talked with Brother Brigham Young and Brother Heber C. Kimball, and I wanted them to be mad like myself; and I saw they were not mad, and I got madder still because they were not. Brother Brigham Young, with a cautious look, said, ‘Are you the leader of the Church, Brother Thomas?’ I answered ‘No.’ ‘Well then,’ said he, ‘why do you not let that alone?’”2

Last year the children in Clara’s grade-four class were assigned to give four-to-five-minute speeches. Clara chose to give a speech on the Holocaust, which she presented as if she were a girl in a concentration camp. When she first rehearsed her speech, it took eight minutes and 40 seconds to give because many of the words were hard to say. She practiced it over and over. The speech slowly grew shorter as she learned to say the words fluently. She finally presented the speech in four minutes and 40 seconds, and her classmates chose her to represent them in front of the whole school. When she did, the entire student body broke into wild applause. Many of them had known Clara since grade one, and her progress seemed miraculous. “The principal was crying,” Clara’s mom recalls. “Clara’s grade-two teacher was crying. Her grade-four teacher was cheering. It was such a victory---one of the greatest moments of my life!”
What did Clara learn from the experience? “Keep trying,” she counsels children everywhere. “Never give up.”
Of course, prayer was also a vital part of Clara’s triumph. She has great faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. Primary, home evenings, scripture study, and her parents’ teachings have helped. Her older sisters have made a difference too, both through their good examples and their reading materials. As soon as Carly, 18, and Josie, 15, turned 12 in their turn, they began putting New Era Posters on their mirrors. Clara has also memorized seminary scripture mastery scriptures and learned President Hinckley’s six B’s with her sisters.

As a young elder in the missionary training center, I thought I knew how to do missionary work until I had an experience that changed everything about my approach to sharing the gospel. It happened in a Sunday School class with hundreds of other missionaries.
During the class, the teacher focused our attention on a comment made by the Prophet Joseph Smith. He explained that in the area where Joseph Smith grew up, missionaries of other churches tried to convince people that their churches were true by reasoning from passages of the Bible. These efforts often became quite intense, leading young Joseph to describe them as a “war of words and tumult of opinions” (Joseph Smith—History 1:10).
Over time, Joseph recognized that this approach was ineffective and confusing, and he offered an insight that can influence the way we share the gospel. He said, “The teachers of religion of the different sects understood the same passages of scripture so differently as to destroy all confidence in settling the question [of which church was true] by an appeal to the Bible” (Joseph Smith—History 1:12).
This was a revolutionary idea to me. I had assumed that the most effective way to share the gospel was by teaching it primarily from the Bible—common ground with other Christians. What Joseph Smith discovered had never occurred to me: because the Bible can be interpreted so differently, it can be a source of contention and misunderstanding, sometimes leading to “Bible bashing.” As President Jeffrey R. Holland, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, explained, “The Bible, so frequently described at that time as ‘common ground,’ was nothing of the kind—unfortunately it was a battleground.”
So what should we rely on when sharing the gospel? Again, Joseph Smith identified the answer: “Unless I could get more wisdom than I then had, I would never know [which church was true]” (Joseph Smith—History 1:12; emphasis added). Joseph discovered that the only way to know which church was true was to get “more wisdom,” or, in other words, more revelation, truth, and inspiration from God. The revelation he received to answer his question is known today as the First Vision.
This is the simple realization that changed my life as a missionary. I knew what I should do. Instead of trying to prove the Church true by reasoning from the Bible, I would rely on latter-day revelation. Specifically, I would teach the First Vision because it is God’s answer to the question of which church is true. The Holy Ghost could then confirm that answer to each individual. As one former mission president counseled, I would take “the quickest and most direct route to the Sacred Grove.”

A second category is enduring the individual conditions of this life—the unique set of circumstances peculiar to us at any given time. These may be small, such as why the guy you like doesn’t seem to know you exist or why you did not achieve an A in a class in spite of every diligent effort. They may be big, such as prolonged health problems or the death of a loved one. They might be financial burdens that seem insurmountable. Or, as parents, we may have to endure the often incorrect use of free agency by our children. For others it may be the inability to be a parent when the desire to be great. And some seem destined to live this life without a mate in spite of earnest desires otherwise. Finally, it may be an offense by a Church official such as a bishop or stake president or General Authority. In all these, the test comes in not denouncing our faith or blaming God for our trials. So many times strong members of the Church, when faced with such conditions, denounce God for not righting the set of conditions that brings them agony. By so doing they cease enduring and stand to risk all they have worked for spiritually to that point.

One example of this came when I was a bishop in Iowa while doing my graduate work. We had just sent out the first missionary that ward had ever had, a quality young man who was loved and admired by all who knew him. Unfortunately, the young man had leukemia, which was in remission. Six months into his mission the symptoms reappeared. He returned home for treatment, but the Lord needed him for a different mission. In spite of group fasting and adamant prayer in his behalf, he died, still a full-time, set-apart missionary. The grief and mourning were difficult. But I always remember the greater anguish I felt when one faithful ward member came to me right after the incident and stated, "I do not know how a just God could allow this to happen. It is not right. He was a good boy. Why would God take him from us?" No amount of consoling helped this person. For this person, God ceased to be a loving God when he did not give us what we desperately wanted. This person became bitter and left the Church for a season.

The Lord is prompting me to share a story again that happened many years ago. I believe it has a special relevance to you in 2026.

The story takes place in a Church meetinghouse, in Darmstadt, Germany, in our home ward. This building had a beautiful grand piano in the chapel, and it was needed in the cultural hall for a musical event. So, some brethren in the ward were given the task of moving that large, heavy instrument through the chapel and into the cultural hall. I see some in the audience, as I look around, who would have been good at that task. None of the brethren in Darmstadt were quite large or strong as some of you are. But they were all we had, and they were willing to try.

Within a few minutes, however, the task of moving the piano even a few feet, let alone into another room, seemed impossible. It became clear that this would take not only physical strength but also careful coordination. There were plenty of ideas, but not one could keep the piano balanced correctly or move it forward. They repositioned the brethren by strength, height, and age over and over again—nothing worked.

As they stood around the piano, uncertain of what to do next, one of them said, “Let’s stand close together and lift where you stand.”

It seemed way too simple. It still does. Nevertheless, they tried. They gathered around the piano, grabbed hold of the piano, and lifted where they stood. As if by a miracle, the piano rose from the ground and moved into the cultural hall. The musical event was a success, and no one had to spend the night in the hospital.

I have often thought about this simple idea, “stand close together, and lift where you stand.” I am still impressed by the profound truth in his counsel.

Trevor loved playing basketball with Dad after work. Dad would always shoot crazy shots—sometimes they even went in.
But tonight, Dad wasn’t ready to play yet. He was helping Mom finish setting the table and pouring drinks for Trevor and his brothers.
“Hey, Dad,” Trevor said. “Want to shoot some hoops?”
“Sure, Son,” Dad said. “But let’s eat dinner first.”
When the family sat down to dinner, Dad said the blessing on the food. Then he asked Trevor and his brothers what they did during the day. Trevor talked about playing on the monkey bars. His younger brothers played in the sandbox and drew pictures.
“What did you do to serve someone today?” Dad asked. He always asked that.
Trevor was ready to answer. “I helped Mom fold the laundry.”
“Good,” Dad said. “I’m proud of you.”
After dinner Trevor popped up from the table and pulled on Dad’s arm.
“Dad, can we go shoot hoops now?” Trevor asked.
“In just a few minutes, Trevor,” Dad said. “First we need to clean up. It wouldn’t be fair to make Mom do all the cooking and cleaning, would it?”
Trevor helped load the dishwasher. Then he grabbed a paper towel and wiped off the table.
“Now can we shoot hoops?” he asked.
“Yes,” Dad said. “Thanks for your help.”
After shooting the ball and playing a few games of H-O-R-S-E, Dad tossed the ball to Trevor.
“Let’s play again,” Trevor said.
“Sorry, buddy,” Dad said. “I have a meeting at church.”
“But we just started playing!” Trevor said. “Do you have to go?” Sometimes he couldn’t understand why Dad had to go to so many meetings.
“Sorry, but I really do,” Dad said. He gave Trevor a squeeze. “Help your mom while I’m gone. I’ll try to be home before you get in bed.”
When bedtime came, Dad still wasn’t home yet.
Trevor frowned. “Mom, why does Dad have so many meetings?” he asked.
“Let me ask you a question,” Mom said. “What does Dad ask you and your brothers every day at dinner?”
“I know, I know,” Trevor answered. “What did you do to serve someone today?”
“Service is very important to Dad,” Mom said. “He’s been called to serve in our ward, and he wants to do his best.”
Trevor thought about how Dad always encouraged him and his brothers to do their best.
“Do you know what else?” Mom asked. “Dad is always looking for ways to serve us.”
“He is?” Trevor asked.
“Just think about it,” Mom said. “After a long day at work, the first thing he did today was help set the table. Then after dinner, he let me rest while he cleaned up. Then he played basketball with you even though he only had a few minutes before his meeting.”
Trevor thought for a minute. He was glad Dad went outside and played with him instead of relaxing.
“I know it can be hard when Dad is so busy,” Mom said. “But he does his best to help everyone around him.”
Mom tucked Trevor into bed and left the room. A few minutes later, Trevor’s door creaked open.
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” Dad said. “I just wanted to say good night.”
Trevor stood up on his bed and gave Dad a big hug.
“Good night, Dad,” Trevor said. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Dad said.
Trevor was glad Dad said it, but he already knew Dad loved him. Dad showed it every day.

Finally, let me share a beautiful example of uniting families for eternity. Lydia from Kharkiv, Ukraine, first learned about the temple from the missionaries. Immediately, Lydia felt a fervent desire to attend the temple, and after her baptism, she began preparation to receive a temple recommend.

Lydia attended the Freiberg Germany Temple to receive her endowment and then spent several days doing proxy work there. Following the dedication of the Kyiv Ukraine Temple, Lydia attended the temple more frequently. She and her husband, Anatoly, were eternally sealed there and later called to serve as temple missionaries. Together they have found more than 15,000 names of ancestors and have worked to provide temple ordinances for them.

When asked about her feelings regarding temple work, Lydia says, “What did I receive in the temple? I have made new covenants with God. My testimony has been strengthened. I have learned to receive personal revelation. I am able to perform saving ordinances for my deceased ancestors. And I can love and serve other people.” She concluded with this very true statement: “The Lord wants to see us in the temple often.”

At 53, Elizabeth seized another learning opportunity. She and her daughter Jessie were walking down the street in Bendigo when a man in a black coat and top hat introduced himself as a missionary from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He offered them a book and said it would teach them God’s plan for His children. Elizabeth always eagerly accepted free books, but this one would change their lives.
All through that night, Jessie read The Book of Mormon to her mother, and the Holy Spirit affirmed to them this book was true.
Elizabeth and three of her children were baptized on 2 February 1902. A couple years later, her two grandsons were baptized.

I wasn’t particularly happy in my first year of marriage, but not through any actions of my husband. I was simply lonely, without my family, my friends, my things, and my old familiar life and comforts. I couldn’t make new friends; I was completely reliant on my husband. I was isolated in a new country among strangers. My self-confidence began to wane. I started to question my identity. Was I American, Japanese, Hawaiian? Where did I belong—in Britain, America, Hawaii? I felt totally lost and wanted to go home. But where was home? I couldn’t answer those questions. I was miserable.

Then a little miracle came into my life, my firstborn. People suddenly became friendlier, it seemed, because of this sweet jewel in my arms. My life began to settle down. A couple of years later and another bundle of joy. Then nine years later, a third jewel appeared. By this time, I was settled and relatively happy. I felt very much accepted by society. I had made friends, understood and accepted the British way of life, and was loving it.

But then cracks began to appear. As the children grew older and left the family nest, the cracks grew wider and deeper. I became unloving and deceitful. I was in deep misery. After awhile, I started to reflect on the days at university in Hawaii, those days when I was in heaven on earth. I so desperately wanted to have that again, but I didn’t know how to get it. (I probably knew but didn’t want to go down that path.)

During one of my trips back to Hawaii to see my mother, I related my early heaven on earth experience to the brother who had introduced me to the gospel many years ago. He simply said, “It was the Holy Ghost.” It shocked me! It had never crossed my mind. His response helped me to put two and two together, but I was stubborn as a mule and would not turn to the Lord. I sought the counsel of man to help me deal with my problems, but soon realised that I was going around in circles. At least, it was a starting point to regaining a sense of self-worth. But it was not enough. I yearned to experience that heaven-on-earth happiness.

It was plain to me what I needed to do, but I still hesitated to do the right thing—to turn my life over to God. I was hesitating because in my mind, returning to Church had some negatives. The Lord would require a commitment that I wasn’t ready to give. So, a few more years were lived in misery.

Finally, I was ready to change, to commit myself to God; I just couldn’t continue as I was. I went to church, talked with my bishop, and took the painful step of repentance. I was afraid of going through this process. I didn’t want to go through it again. It was too painful. It would be too easy to turn away from the Lord—I’d done it once before. Would my commitment stand firm?

But since making this momentous decision, I have learnt to love God and have gained a stronger testimony of the gospel of Christ. My conversion didn’t end there, it was just a starting point, albeit a momentous one. As I’ve attended church, studied the scriptures, and repented continually, I have become a happier person. I have learnt that accepting callings in the Church helps me grow stronger and become more faithful. It helps me develop character, but more importantly my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, bringing me closer to them. Conversion is an ongoing process, continually trying to live in accordance with the love of God.

At the Missouri River they transferred to a small steamboat. It arrived near Council Bluffs, Iowa, very late at night, in the darkness, and passengers and baggage were unloaded at a fast speed and in confusion. At daybreak the weary travelers located their scattered luggage, then assembled at the Church’s emigration campground. There they were organized into companies of tens, fifties, and hundreds by Church emigration agent Joseph Young. William, being a military veteran, was named captain of the guards.
Wagons and teams had to be prepared, baggage loaded, food supplies purchased and packed, and teamsters trained. While this work was being done the camp was struck by a violent storm with high winds, torrential rains, and vivid lightnings. Cattle broke loose and stampeded, doing great damage. Lightning killed at least two Saints and badly injured several others. Floods washed gullies 3 meters deep in places. During the storm William, as captain of the guards, was called on to help a sister give birth under a collapsed tent—both mother and son remained his lifelong friends in Utah. The company needed two or three days to recover from the storm, and many Saints never found boxes and bags washed away by the flash floods.

A special guest was at the rodeo grounds in Evanston, Wyoming: Shelly Williams, Miss Rodeo America 1999, from Kuna, Idaho. Along with steer wrestling, bareback riding, and other usual events, there was a special event featuring some of the rodeo staff and the queens, including Miss Rodeo America. The participants rode stick horses and carried pies. You guessed it—it ended up being a friendly pie fight.
During the fight, Miss Rodeo America lost her ring. She had designed it herself, and it had been made by a silversmith in Oregon. Even more than for its value in dollars, it was of great sentimental value to Miss Williams. The rodeo was stopped for a few minutes while a search was made, but the ring wasn’t found and the remaining events had to take place. The announcer did ask that anyone with a metal detector come down after the rodeo and help look for the ring.
My daughter Mariah, 5, and her friend Kami wanted to help look for it, too. I was reluctant. I was also surprised, because Mariah doesn’t like to get dirty. Looking for the ring would mean digging in dirt and muck.
When they reached the arena, the girls huddled together in prayer, asking Heavenly Father to help the people find the queen’s special ring and to not let it be damaged by the horses and the bulls. Then the little girls went over to where other people had already been searching with their metal detectors. Mariah and Kami started sifting through the dirt there, and soon Mariah started hollering, “Mom, I found something!”
I thought she had found a neat rock or a worm or some other such “treasure.” But when she ran over to me and held out her hand, there was a shiny silver ring in it, undamaged. And, yes, it was Miss Rodeo America’s ring!
Queen Shelly Williams was elated, of course. She ran over and hugged and hugged Mariah, tears streaming down her face. She autographed posters for Mariah and Kami and later sent a small gift to Mariah. Mariah kept telling the rodeo queen, “I asked Heavenly Father to help, and He showed me where the ring was.”
Mariah knew exactly why and how the ring was found. When she and Kami prayed, there was not a doubt in their minds that their prayer would be answered. It taught me that the faith of a child can move mountains and that we must never be too busy to help out someone in need.
At bedtime that night, Mariah thanked Heavenly Father for answering her prayer and helping her find the ring. When she finished praying, I asked her what had made her decide to pray about the ring. She said, “Where else are you to go when you need special help?” Where, indeed!

Four years and two more children later, we were again planning to visit my dad, who now lived 13 hours away. By then we had a different van, one that was 14 years old. About a week before leaving, I felt that I needed to replace the van’s spare tire. Remembering my previous experience, I followed the prompting. A couple of days later I felt an impression to buy some ratchet tie-downs to use on some gear we had previously tied with ropes. I needed two but bought a case of four. I put the extra two in our emergency kit.
On the way back from visiting my dad, we stopped to buy dinner. As I was getting some items out of a container on the roof of the van, my three-year-old daughter touched the sliding door. It fell to the ground! We were grateful the door didn’t hit her. We were almost 500 miles (805 km) from home on a Friday evening, so I wrangled the door into place so we could be on our way, but it wasn’t on the track and we could hear the highway as we drove. I pulled over again and used one of the extra tie-down straps to secure the door.
Several hours later the van began to shake violently. A loud banging came from the shaking door, but the strap held it in place. I pulled over and found that one of our tires had lost its belt. I quickly replaced it with the spare tire I had bought a few weeks before, and we were again on our way.

I stood in the foyer as the second counselor in the bishopric asked me to speak in sacrament meeting about the importance of temples. With my eyes down and an embarrassed flush creeping into my cheeks, I asked for a different topic to speak on. I hadn’t attended the temple in several years because of life choices that had disconnected me from my Heavenly Father, and I did not feel qualified to speak about the temple.
After that experience, the temple kept coming to my mind, and I felt a growing desire to be there but also battled feelings of unworthiness. I felt afraid that Heavenly Father would not want me in His sacred house.
As general conference approached, I nervously listened to the speakers, hoping that I would feel some indication that God still loved me despite my mistakes. That was when then-President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, said: “It matters not how completely ruined our lives may seem. It matters not how scarlet our sins, how deep our bitterness, how lonely, abandoned, or broken our hearts may be. … There is no life so shattered that it cannot be restored.”
I felt clearly that God was speaking to me. I had been wondering for months how to come back to Christ, and that conference message was His call for me to make changes to enter His house again.
I met with my bishop to discuss entering the temple again. He helped me understand the role Jesus Christ could play in my life and how accepting His Atonement could help me give my burden of pain and sin to Him. I began to pray for understanding, strength, and patience with myself. By trusting God a little more and doing a little better each day, I gradually reconnected with the light of the Savior.
Working with my bishop and learning more about my Savior deepened my testimony of my identity as a daughter of Heavenly Father. I understood that my loving Redeemer would never ask me to separate myself from Him but that Satan would try to make me feel like I didn’t belong in the temple. With this knowledge, I eventually felt ready to enter God’s house again.
With a crisply folded recommend in my hand, I stepped toward the temple for the first time in years, suddenly anxious about my place in God’s house. The closer I got to the doors, the more uncertainty ran through me. Would I look foolish for not knowing where to go or what to do? Was I too old to be going to the temple for baptisms?
The man at the front desk smiled as I entered, welcoming me to the temple. That morning rejuvenated my spirit as temple workers reassured me of my place in God’s house.
As I left the temple, one of the workers waved to me as I walked down the hallway to exit the baptistry. With a whispered, joyful voice, he said, “Thank you for coming to the temple today—we needed you here!” I promised him that I would come back the next week as I looked forward to feeling the warmth of the temple again.
Because of our divine identities as daughters and sons of heavenly parents, each of us can find belonging in the temple. There is nothing that can permanently keep us out of God’s loving reach if we desire to be in His presence. He wants us there, and as we take small steps to become more like our Savior each day, we can align our lives with His and always remain temple worthy. I know that because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, we can enter God’s holy house and receive the blessings waiting for us inside.
And as I’ve experienced, those blessings are worth everything.