Gospel Story Finder

Example 1:
I was 34 years old and had climbed the corporate ladder quickly through several companies. I had been recruited by a Fortune 500 company to be a Senior Vice President with oversight of facilities management in 1,800 locations in every state in the U.S. and provide leadership for 2,700 employees. I had meetings my second week of work that required me to be flying on the company jet with the Senior Management team. We would be in a different state every day. I was so excited, I had never flown in a Leer jet before and felt I had arrived at the pinnacle of my corporate career. Just after we took off the first day the President of the company came back to my seat and offered me something to drink. I told him water would be good, thank you. He insisted that the plane’s bar had every drink I could ever think of, I told him no thanks and water would be great. He left and returned with two glasses of clear liquid and set them at the table. From the outside of the glass it looked like water, but when I went to drink it I could smell alcohol. I asked him what it was, he told me to drink up, it was his version of purified water which was vodka. I told him I appreciated him thinking of me, but that I did not drink alcohol. He then became furious and told me that he would be watching me and if at any time I messed up, he would be buying me a one-way ticket (in coach) back to Denver, where I could pack my bags. This was a little upsetting. I had just sold my house in Seattle and bought a new house in Denver where I had also relocated my family to, but I held my ground and felt right about what I did. Each day and each flight got a little easier as the different Vice Presidents got to know me and by the end of the week as we got home late on a Friday night, this same President came up to me after we got off the plane and said, “You’re in.”
Yes, it was good that I didn’t drink, but what if you were sitting a few seats in front of me and saw the President bring alcohol to my seat? Would you think I must have drank it since the President didn’t come back to the front of the plane with the glasses? Or would your perspective be better informed like that of the person sitting next to me who could hear and see everything? We need to be careful not to judge too quickly.

Illustration by Katelyn Budge
I was extremely nervous to audition for my first play, so I prayed and asked to be blessed with the specific role that I wanted. As I prayed, I felt prompted to correct myself, so I added, “If not the role I want, please bless me with the role I need.”
The audition went great, but I didn’t get the part I wanted. I got a smaller role—with a singing solo. The role I’d wanted didn’t have that. I trusted God and accepted the smaller part, and I loved it! I don’t know if I would’ve discovered my passion for theater if I’d gotten the role I’d wanted.
I’m so glad I listened to that prompting. It strengthened my relationship with Heavenly Father to put myself into His hands and say that I would accept whatever part I received.
JJ J., age 17, Tennessee, USA
Likes theater and rollerblading

Soon after my husband was called to preside over the Paraguay Asunción Mission in 1992, we attended a branch conference in an isolated community in the Paraguayan Chaco.10 We traveled four hours on a paved road and then seven more hours on a primitive road. The perils and discomfort of the long trip were soon forgotten when we greeted the happy and welcoming members of Mistolar.

Julio Yegros was the young branch president, and he and his wife, Margarita, were one of the few families who had been sealed in the temple. I asked them to share their experience of their trip to the temple.

At the time, the closest temple was the Buenos Aires Temple in Argentina. The trip from Mistolar required 27 hours one way to reach the temple, and they had gone with their two small children. It was in the middle of a very cold winter, but with much sacrifice they made it to the temple and were sealed together as an eternal family. On the way back, the two babies got very sick and died. They buried them along the way and returned home empty-handed. They were sad and lonely but amazingly felt comforted and peaceful. They said of the experience: “Our children were sealed to us in the house of the Lord. We know we will have them back with us for all eternity. This knowledge has given us peace and comfort. We have to remain worthy and faithful to the covenants we made in the temple, and then we will be reunited with them.”

The Favaretto family attends church in the Florence Branch, some distance from their home. “It takes us about an hour and fifteen minutes to get to Florence, so we have to get up very early on Sunday mornings so we can get to church on time,” says Rebecca. Occasionally, some member of the family has other meetings or appointments after church on Sunday. When this happens, the whole family makes arrangements to stay in the city all day. For instance on the Sunday afternoon when Rebecca’s brother, Gianni, had his mission interview with the district president, her mother brought everything they needed to prepare their dinner at the church. Rebecca helped her mother prepare the meal and set the table in the kitchen at the church, and the whole family (plus a few guests) enjoyed dinner together.

Now may I conclude by sharing one of my favorite stories told by a great American educator, Dr. Kenneth McFarland. Dr. McFarland was the superintendent of schools in Coffeyville, a small Kansas community. They had a very interesting tradition in that small town: they had the commencement exercises for the junior college and the high school at the same time. It had grown over the years to become a marvelous event. They held it at the football stadium and it was not uncommon that they had four or five thousand spectators and students all in that football stadium attending the commencement. The last year that he was there, the day before commencement, Dr. McFarland was in the dean’s office going over some matters with the dean and into the office came one of the very lovely, beautiful young graduating students. She was one of the most popular on campus, a student leader, and a smart girl with a fine scholastic record. This was her concluding year in that junior college. He heard her say that she wanted one ticket for the parents’ section; she paid for her cap and gown, and then she left. Her name was Nancy Hollingsworth. Dr. McFarland concluded his business and stepped out into the hall. Waiting for him there was Nancy, and she said, “Dr. McFarland, I’ve wanted to talk to you for some time about something that’s been on my mind, but I simply haven’t had the courage because it really is kind of a personal thing. But,” she said, “I have a story I’d like to tell you and see if there’s something that you can do to help me.”

He said, “She told me a fascinating story of how her father was an engineer on the railroad and how he had been killed. She and her two older brothers, in the early years, were raised by their mother, who was employed in a ladies’ ready-to-wear shop.” She said that some of the very happy moments of her life were in the evening following dinner after they had dressed in their pajamas.

“We could talk about anything we wanted to talk about at this time. Mother would tell us stories and we’d laugh. I can remember as though it were yesterday, a time when we were sitting there and we got to laughing. I developed cramps in my stomach and it was so much pain that Mother had to rub my stomach to relax the muscles. She finally tucked us in bed, kissed us good-night, and went to her bedroom. I don’t know what happened,” Nancy said. “During the night Mother died. We woke up on the morning and, of course, were hysterical. We didn’t know what to do. The only living relative we had in the area was Mother’s bachelor brother, Uncle Ben. Mother didn’t want people to know about her brother because he was the town drunk. About the only time he worked was when he ran out of whiskey. He would work to get enough and then go on a long ‘binge.’ But,” she said, “we loved him so much because he seemed to have plenty of time for us kids. He was the only one we could turn to. So we called him on the telephone and he came right over. We said, ‘Uncle Ben, what are we going to do?’ and he said, ‘I don’t know, kids, but whatever it is it won’t be as good as you had. But when things quiet down a little bit after the funeral, I’ll go down to the court and if you kids want to come and live with me, I’ll pray God to give me the gumption to try to raise you right.’”

Nancy said, “Dr. McFarland, you just can’t know what kind of a job he’s done. In all those years he has never touched one drop of liquor. In all those years he has never missed one day’s work. Everybody’s got to feel bad sometime, but if he felt bad, he didn’t tell us because he never missed a day’s work.” Then she said, “Tomorrow is the sixth commencement he has attended. My oldest brother Jim is a medical doctor and he is in his residency now. Tom graduates this spring from MIT as an engineer, has had some wonderful job opportunities, and is going to take one. Tonight I’m graduating with a junior college degree and then I’m going to Pittsburgh Teacher’s College to become a teacher. So this is the sixth graduation that he has attended and not once has he been willing to sit in the parents’ section. Each time we ask him why, he says he just doesn’t think it’s the proper respect for Mom. So this is my last chance, Dr. McFarland. I’ve got a ticket for the parents’ section but he won’t accept it. After you’ve introduced the parents and you have them stand,” she said, “is there something special that you might do to recognize Uncle Ben?”

Dr. McFarland replied, “I’d have been very disappointed if you hadn’t shared this with me. You just leave this to me and I’ll figure something out.”

The graduation was wonderful. There was just enough breeze to float the flags. The students looked wonderful in their robes; the college students came in first, and then the high school graduates came in and sat down. They had the band playing “Pomp and Circumstance” for the processional. As the band faded out, the orchestra came in and picked it up. As they faded out, the organ came in. For the grand finale, when the graduates were all seated, the band, orchestra, and organ came in together and filled the air with vibrant notes. Dr. McFarland went through the introduction and then, as usual, the parents stood up and were recognized with a big hand of applause. He then looked down on the second row and there was Nancy, sitting with a face about a foot long. She thought that he’d forgotten. But he said, “Ladies and gentlemen, I want all the Uncle Bens in the audience who have a graduate representative in the graduating class to please stand.” Suddenly a hush went over that audience. He said, “I knew I’d really hooked on to something big. But nothing happened.” Finally he said, “Surely with an audience this size there has got to be at least one Uncle Ben who has a representative in the graduating class. We will not proceed with this commencement exercise until he stands.” And then slowly, up on the back row, way up near the top of the bleachers, a tall, gangly figure began to stand. Kids on the top row of the graduating class were expecting it and were the first ones to clap. That triggered a gigantic applause from the entire stadium until it rocked all the chairs and those who were sitting there. They knew more about Uncle Ben than he thought they knew. He seemed so embarrassed that he was telling people to sit down.

Commencement exercise continued and after the graduates were dismissed, everyone came together and began to shake hands as they usually do. Down the middle row came Nancy Hollingsworth, dragging a very reluctant Uncle Ben. As they approached the stand, Dr. McFarland came down and said, “I am so happy to meet you, sir. I have two questions which I must ask you. First of all, what were you thinking when this gigantic applause roared through the stadium?”

Uncle Ben began to laugh and said, “Well, to tell you the truth, I thought I was dreaming. I said to myself, if I’m dreaming I must be asleep. And if I’m asleep, I’m going to be missing Nancy’s graduation and I’d better get going.”

Dr. McFarland said, “Now the second question is—and I’ve given a lot of thought to this—what did you tell the authorities when you went down to get permission to take over the kids? You didn’t have a very good case, did you?”

Uncle Ben replied, “Doc, I don’t mind telling you that I didn’t have a case at all. But the judge asked me”—of course they were well acquainted— “‘Ben, why should I give you the kids?’ I looked right at him and I said, ‘The Master said a man can be born again. He said that a man can change and he can stay changed—can change completely. And I believe that he meant any man can do that, even a drunken ne’er-do-well like me.’”

“The judge took off his glasses, and he turned around and looked out the window for a few moments, and then he said, ‘I believe that deal included you, Ben. We’re going to turn the kids over to you. You take them home, and in thirty days we’re going to come out and see how you’re getting along. If you’re doing a good job tending the kids and providing for them, we’ll leave them with you. But if you aren’t, then we’ll have to take them and find another home for them.’”

“Those three kids went with me back to my house, and we knelt down the very first thing around my bed. I promised God that if he’d hold on to me, I’d hold on to the kids. The five of us have been getting along real good ever since.”

Mona (names have been changed) didn’t think she would ever find an eternal partner after two failed marriages. Then she moved to a retirement center and met Bob. They became friends, and she introduced him to the gospel. About the time they became engaged, Bob was diagnosed with cancer. He asked Mona if she still wanted to marry him.
“Of course,” she said. “I’m marrying you for eternity, not just for this life.”
The couple married, and Bob was baptized. They were both in wheelchairs as they were sealed in the temple. Mona said there was a celestial light about Bob that day. He lived another six months, rejoicing in each day with his sweetheart. Now Mona can’t wait until they are together again.

Just the other day, we met a girl about your age who had never heard of God. It was very hot and sticky, so my companion and I were glad to go inside an apartment building when we knocked on doors to try to tell people about the Church.
We met Ina’s mother first, but as we talked outside the door with her in Russian, Ina poked her head out and stared at us with big blue eyes. She was amazed that we spoke her native language. When her mother explained how busy they were and said that she just didn’t have time to hear about Bog (God), we were disappointed. We really want to tell people about Heavenly Father, and no one had wanted to listen that day.
Then Ina gave us hope. As we left, she asked, “Did Bog send you here?”
I told her, “Yes,” and we smiled at each other.
Later, as my companion and I left another apartment down the block, discouraged because we had just finished a discussion with people who wouldn’t believe God existed, Ina came roller-skating by. “What are you still doing here?” she asked.
“We’re telling people about Bog.”
“Who’s Bog?”
I’d forgotten that she’d grown up in Russia and didn’t know anything about Him. “Bog is the Father of your spirit, and you are His daughter,” I told her.
“His daughter?”
“Yes.” My companion and I explained. “Tyee deetya Boga (You are a child of God). In fact, we all are children of Bog—everyone on earth is brothers and sisters.”
Ina giggled. “Then that means that my mom is my sister. That’s funny!”
“You’re right—she is your sister.” We continued, “And Bog loves all of us, just as your parents love you.”
“Where is Bog? How come I don’t see Him?”
“Bog is in nyeba (heaven), and you might not see Him, but He’s there, and you can talk to Him.”
“I can talk to Him?”
We explained to Ina about moleetva (prayer). We told her that she could really talk to Heavenly Father just like she talks to her mom and dad and that when she did, she would feel good inside.
“But how will I know that Bog listens to me?”
“How do you feel when you help your mom?” we asked.
“Well, … good. … Sort of warm.”
“That is how Bog tells you that what you are doing is good and that He is happy with you. You’ll have that same feeling when you pray.”
Ina wanted to know how we knew about Bog. We told her that we had prayed to know if He really existed and was our Father and that He had answered our prayers. We added that He spoke to men called prorokee (prophets) and that when they told us about Bog, we felt warm and good inside then, too.
“Someone has seen Bog?” Ina was excited.
“Yes, Ina, prorokee have seen Bog. They talk to Him and tell us what He says.”
“Why can’t I see Bog?”
“Do you know what?” we said. “You did see Him. You lived with Him before you came to earth, and you will see Him again when you die.”
Ina was really thinking hard. “I want to see Bog again!”
“Do you know how you can do that, Ina—how you can live with Him again? You can start now by being nice to everyone and doing kind things for them. You can also pray to Him and help your mom and dad pray to Him.”
“I’m going to!” she exclaimed. With determination in her stride, she skated down the street toward her home. Suddenly she stopped and called back, “Can I pray by the window?”
“Yes, you can pray anywhere, anytime,” we assured her.
“I’m going home to pray right now!”
We didn’t get in any more doors that day, but three days later, we ran into Ina again. When she saw us, she grabbed our hands and exclaimed, “It’s my seostra (sisters)!”
We asked if she had prayed, and she nodded. “How did you feel?” we asked.
“Warm!” she said. “Good!”
Sara, sometimes missionary work gets frustrating, and I begin to be discouraged. Then I think about Ina and about what the Savior said to the Nephites: “Ye must … become as a little child.”* Heavenly Father is real. He loves us, and He answers our prayers. I want you to know that I love Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I know that They love me and that They love you, too. Thank you for praying for the missionaries. We need your prayers.
Please pray for Ina, too.

A dance festival? Sharon Leo had never seen one, and now she was invited to dance in one. An 18-year-old nonmember living in central Utah, Sharon had been around Mormons all of her life. Now her friend Jolynne Taylor of the Orem Utah Sharon West Stake had asked Sharon to join her in a five-stake dance festival to be held in the huge BYU Marriott Center. With reservations, Sharon accepted.
Rehearsals occupied every Saturday morning for months as Sharon found herself practicing square dances, Swiss polkas, disco numbers, karate exercise numbers, Greek line dances, the English quadrille (her specialty), and many other dances with 600 fathers, mothers, young adults, teens, and children. Sharon’s view of Mormonism began to expand as she met new people and made more friends.
Then there were the costumes to make. While Sharon was struggling to put in a zipper and get the length of her costume correct, others were also sewing like crazy—especially where whole families were participating. Cori Dawn Anderson, 16, of the Orem Utah Sharon West Stake, commented, “Being in the dance festival as a whole family was a good experience. The hardest part was making seven costumes in two weeks. But with everyone helping and sewing in their spare time, we got them all finished. It was really fun, and despite all the work, it was worth it.”
During the rush of practices and costume making, Sharon Leo began taking the missionary discussions.
As Sharon grew in gospel knowledge, the dance festival grew in excitement among its participants. Bishops, stake presidents, and high council members responded to the challenge to participate and brought their families. Miriam Abegg, 17, whose father is on the Orem Utah West Central Stake high council said, “The dance festival was fantastic! I could feel that the Lord’s Spirit was with us during our performance. And I enjoyed practicing with my family. It helped me to see my dad with different eyes—enjoying square dancing, whirling and throwing my mom and us kids up in the air. It was a lot of work, but it was fun to work with other people—especially my own family, even though my brother did drop me on the floor one time.”
Suddenly, the day of the performance was upon them. Between the final dress rehearsal and the evening performance, a different kind of event took place. As Sharon’s family, friends, missionaries, teachers, and priesthood administrators watched, she stepped into the waters of baptism. Jolynne’s father performed the baptism, and Jolynne’s mother accompanied the hymns at the piano. Jolynne waited at the top of the baptismal steps to be the first to give Sharon a hug of fellowship. It was a beautiful time of reverence in an exciting day.
The dance performance filled the evening. As the Marriott Center darkened, over 6,000 spectators sat waiting. Suddenly the lights flashed on to the throb of Star Wars music, and the youth and their families began a spectacular show complete with bright lights, colorful costumes, and exciting dances. The dance numbers that had been such stumbling blocks—difficult to learn, difficult to find music for—suddenly were magnificent. The costumes, made mostly from donated materials, looked professional. The organization and technical details, so ragged in rehearsal, suddenly ran smoothly and professionally.
As Joycelynn Demaree, the costume chairman, remarked, “There were so many little miracles and acts of faith that took place during the putting on of the festival. It was a lot of hard work, but to see the whole thing come together was worth every minute of the thousands of hours involved.”

The joy of Katya and her family continued to grow. As Katya participated in Personal Progress, she noticed that it focused on the importance of the temple. “There is a whole section dedicated to going to the temple, and I really wanted to get to the temple, but my parents weren’t ready,” she remembers.
Katya was able, however, to attend the temple with her seminary class. She recalls, “I did temple work for the first time. I was really happy, and I wanted to go again. I really wanted my family to go there and be sealed for eternity.”
Katya’s family prepared and finally felt that they were ready to go to the temple. Two years after her first visit to the temple, Katya returned, this time with her family. “I understood that it really is a place where families can become eternal,” Katya says. They were sealed in the Freiberg Germany Temple.

When I was enrolled here in 1970, it was my opportunity to be a senior resident on the top floor of the Rigby Hall on the north end. As a senior resident, I had a room all to myself. One night as we met as a ward, our stake president spoke to us. He challenged us to pray for 15 minutes that night in our personal prayer. He asked us to actually have a clock where we could see it to help us keep track of how long we had prayed. After we had prayed as long as we could, if we looked up and the 15 minutes hadn't expired, he encouraged us to continue praying and to repeat the process until we had prayed for a full 15 minutes. I accepted his challenge. Please know that I was a returned missionary at this time. I started to pray--I prayed everything that had ever come to mind in previous prayers and then said everything I could remember my parents saying in our family prayers. It felt like 30 minutes had passed. I hesitantly looked up at the clock--surprisingly, only 5 minutes had gone by. So, I prayed longer, trying to think of more to speak with our Heavenly Father about that hadn't been said. I looked up again only to discover I had 7 minutes to go. Finally, the prayer began to come from the deepest parts of my soul and tears began to stream down my face. The reason for the challenge from our stake president became clear--humility and reverence had replaced the oftimes casual, brief and superficial prayers that had become too common in my life. I learned a great lesson that night--for prayer to get past the ceiling, reverence and sincerity are required and as we pray in this fervent manner, we will begin to grow in reverence and in our ability to communicate with the Lord. Please don't think I'm suggesting that you try this 15 minute experiment. But, you may want to consider assessing the genuineness of your prayers and your connection to the Almighty.

Mom and I live with Grandma and Grandpa now. At least for a while. Until Mom can make enough money at her new job, or until Dad gets better. Dad has a drinking problem. It got pretty bad, and he wouldn’t get help. We prayed and prayed for him, but Mom said Heavenly Father can’t help us if we don’t try to help ourselves. I know she’s right, because once I asked Him to help me on a school test that I hadn’t studied for. I failed it anyway. Mom said that if we do all we can do for ourselves, then ask Heavenly Father for help, He will then assist us.
One day my friend Barry said that if his dad were like mine, he wouldn’t love him anymore. Because if my dad cared about us, he wouldn’t keep drinking.
I couldn’t sleep too well that night. My mom came into my room and asked what was wrong. When I told her, she explained some things that helped me to feel better.
The next day when Barry and I were looking for arrowheads in Baker’s Canyon up behind the yellow field, I told him I still loved my dad. When he asked me why, I said, “Remember when your brother didn’t tie up the chain that was hanging way down from the siren on his bike?”
“Yes,” Barry said, “and I told him it could cause an accident if it got caught in the spokes, but did he listen to me? No!”
Last month Barry borrowed that bike. He was flying down a hill when, sure enough, the chain got caught in the spokes of his front wheel. All of a sudden the bike stopped, but Barry kept going, right over the handlebars. He banged himself up pretty badly. In fact, his arm was still in a cast.
“Do you still love your brother?” I asked.
“Of course I do.”
“Why?”
“Well, because … because he’s my brother. He didn’t want me to get hurt. He was just being careless.”
“I’m sure your brother feels bad about it,” I said. “My dad feels awful, too, after he sobers up.”
Barry and I sat down on a rock to drink from our canteens. Grandma’s cold lemonade tastes so good that it makes getting thirsty fun. Dad always said, “On a hot day your grandma’s lemonade takes all the discomfort out of being alive!” And he was right.
I looked at Barry seriously, trying to get the deep down inside of him to listen. I had written down some of what Mom said the night before so I wouldn’t forget. Now I read it to Barry: “‘God loves all of us, even when He doesn’t love all of our actions. It’s called charity—the pure love of Christ, and we need to try to love like Jesus does.’”
Barry nodded his head and smiled. I could tell that he knew my mom was right. Her words made me feel good inside, too. About my dad. About a lot of things. It was as good a feeling as Grandma’s lemonade going down on a hot summer day.
Mom and I kept praying for Dad. He stopped drinking, and he’s in a special program that’s helping him. He’ll be coming home in a few weeks. He says he wants to play hide-and-seek with me in the tall yellow weeds. And he wants me to win, because he misses those chocolate milk shakes as much as I do!

A short time ago I toured with the president of the Alaska-British Columbia Mission. His daughter in high school had been successful in converting one of her chums, so she told her father she wanted to spend her summer vacation in the mission field. He sent her up to Anchorage to labor with a lady missionary, and he and I were there to attend a baptismal service when eleven people were baptized. Nine of them were the converts of this girl and her companion. The daughter came up to me with tears running down her cheeks and said, “Oh, Brother Richards, I have never been so happy in all my life.”

I am a convert and the only Church member in my family. I’ve learned that one of the sacred ordinances is baptism for the dead. I went to the temple on a tour, and while listening to the host talk about the ordinances, I felt a still, small voice tell me to go to the family history center to submit a temple ordinance request for my mother, who had passed away. I was so happy when the FamilySearch account later confirmed that her temple work was done. It strengthened my testimony, and I know that one of the reasons why we are here on this earth is to help our ancestors receive the true gospel of Jesus Christ.
Marvin S., Philippines

Later, in 2018, President Jameson shared this emotional experience:
“We were called as the Kinshasa temple president and matron. We came early for the express purpose of conducting recommend interviews so as many as possible would be ready to enter the temple. We asked for volunteers to serve as workers in the temple. There were immediately 250 volunteers and every single one of them had a valid temple recommend! They were just waiting for the day! Most had only attended the temple once for their endowments—many were bishops and stake presidents—but they had not had the opportunity to attend again. The day had come for regular temple attendance!”

On 8 October 2024, 31 young single adults from Papua New Guinea arrived in Tonga to attend the Nuku‘alofa Tonga Temple for the first time. The group included two full-time missionaries serving in the Papua New Guinea Lae Mission and most of the others have received or are waiting to receive mission calls.
They were warmly welcomed at the airport with traditional candy leis by former Lae mission leaders, Sitiveni and Kilisitina Fehoko (2016–2019), as well as several returned missionaries who served in Papua New Guinea.
After receiving their own endowments, the young adults lovingly performed proxy baptisms, initiatory, and endowments for their grandparents and other ancestors. They finished their temple service with a final sealing session, linking and uniting generations with eternal sealing power.
The young single adults had researched family names in anticipation of doing temple work for their deceased relatives.
In the evenings, they were met by Elder Sione Tuione, an Area Seventy as well as former mission leaders in New Guinea including Isileli and Milika Fatani, (Papua New Guinea Lae Mission 2019–2022), Mosese and Akanesi Naeata (Papua New Guinea Port Moresby Mission 1997–2000), and the Fehokos who offered powerful messages of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and eternal families.
The Fatanis and Fehokos provided delicious Tongan feasts and local wards hosted dances each evening, which the young adults loved.
The young adults also enjoyed an afternoon of sightseeing and shopping. Several of them received dental care at the Church’s dental clinic at Liahona High School.
The hearts of the children turning to their fathers were evident in their words, which they recorded in journals given to each of them.
Channolyn George – “When I saw the temple, the tears dropped from my eyes. I felt heartbroken, thinking back to my country, my province, my ward, the members, my family, my loved ones, and all those not yet members. In my heart and my mind, I hope one day my family and all these people will be here as now I’m here.”
Sonia Maranghi – “I did the endowment for my father’s mother, and I realized that she was very excited that I performed her ordinances, which she longed for. I couldn’t hold my tears anymore and cried while sitting in the celestial glory of the living God.”
Delilah Kum – “The house of the Lord is the temple. When you enter . . . you will feel the Spirit. I know that families can be sealed together for eternity.”
Mathias Inum – “When I came to the temple, I knew that I was there to receive the light of Christ. When I return to Papua New Guinea, I am going to show this light to everyone and be a light to this world.”
Dodo Miul – “I am in Tonga for my temple endowment. I am very happy to be here to save my ancestors who have already passed. I know that they have been in the spirit world smiling away and waiting to receive this. I am so grateful for these temple experiences.”
These wonderful young single adults from Papua New Guinea are eagerly waiting to attending the temple again when the Port Moresby Papua New Guinea Temple construction will be complete.

When I was a child, my family spent some summers near the ocean in northern California. My father was a high school biology teacher, and during some summers he worked as a naturalist in California state parks in the redwood forests. We enjoyed living in the redwoods and going to the ocean as a family.

One of my favorite childhood memories is digging for agates, which are small translucent stones. It was like a treasure hunt. I would sit on the beach and dig a small hole in the gravel with a piece of driftwood. When I found an agate, I would hold it up to see if the sunlight shown through it. Finding an agate was fun.

As an adult, I wanted to share this happy experience with my children. One summer we went to a beach which I had visited as a child. It is called Agate Beach because many agates can be found there. I began to dig in the gravel. However, not long after we began digging, one of my children got hit by an ocean wave. The ocean in northern California is cold, and my young daughter was wet and cold. However, I wanted to continue digging for agates, and I did. After a while Nadine told me that she was taking our daughter back to the car. I understood that it was time to leave the beach.

The agates were worth little. By contrast, my daughter was very important. But I was so focused on digging for agates that it was hard for me to pull away from it and to focus on what was most important.

While I share the next story, please reflect on your present experience at BYU-Idaho. President Russell M. Nelson states, “Your mind is precious! It is sacred. Therefore, the education of one’s mind is also sacred. Indeed, education is a religious responsibility.”

This is a shared responsibility. As rewarding as it is to see students succeed, there is concern when things do not go well. I refer to the next student by the pseudonym of John. I could count on John being to my class every time. He was pleasant, attentive, and got along well with others. But there was a problem: John did not complete any of his assignments. Fearing I would have to ultimately give him a failing grade, I invited him to come to my office for a consultation. I worried about how to handle the situation as I welcomed him in and we began to talk. I reminded him of his missing assignments and suggested he withdraw while the opportunity prevailed to receive a W on his transcript rather than an F at the end of the term.

John was shocked at the prospects. “I don’t want to withdraw,” he said. “This is my favorite class.”

As I looked at John, I sensed his sincerity. Instead of talking about the coursework, the Spirit prompted me to talk of my family and of my own journey as a non-traditional student. I explained I knew education could be hard and inconvenient—I had attended courses at night while juggling family, full-time employment, and Church callings for some 13 years to achieve the diplomas on what I call “my gratitude wall.” I shared with John that to me education is an opportunity. I told him my hardworking, skilled father only had an 8 th grade education. His service in WWII included being the company barber, a skill he enjoyed even after his release but was not licensed to practice and for which he could not charge. Years later he sought entrance into barber school, but my father was denied the opportunity for even technical education because of his lack of a high school degree. In contrast, my diplomas are a symbol of opportunity, and a humble testament of joyful blessings. I told John how as a parent I had worried about my five children, and I shared with John their success. Each had graduated from this campus and went onto earn additional degrees, one like him in communication, two as educators, and two as physicians. Then I asked John a question: “Who is sacrificing to give you the opportunity to be at BYU-Idaho?”

Tears filled John’s eyes to overflowing as he responded, “My mother, and I hope someday she will be as proud of me as you are of your children.”

It was sensing his mother’s love and sacrifice that helped John create his own “sixteen stones.” He started not only showing up in class but skillfully fulfilling his assignments. He worked diligently to make up his past negligence. Through his efforts he began to see the Lord’s hand in his life as he successfully completed the course. Faith became an action word. As we find in the scriptures:

Even so faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone. . . . I will shew thee my faith by my works.

A few semesters later, I happened to see John waiting for entrance to the Testing Center. I stopped and asked him how he was doing. He glowed with confidence and joy as he reported, “Great.” Then pointing to the radiant woman sitting by his side, he said, “And she is making sure I stay that way.”

I have seen that happen once in a care center when a deacon leaned forward to pass the tray to a white-haired lady. She looked at the bread as if it were precious. I have never forgotten her smile as she partook and then reached up to pat the deacon’s head, saying quite loudly, “Oh, thank you!”

That deacon was simply performing his priesthood duty. Yet the Lord then multiplied the deacon’s act. It was evident that the sister remembered the Savior as she expressed sincere gratitude for a deacon’s service. She was reassured as he served the sacrament to her that she would have the Spirit to be with her. She was not alone that day in the care center. Neither was the deacon alone in his modest service.

In March, his physician told us that John had two options: (1) have a feeding tube inserted, which might sustain John’s life for a few more months but that would require him to stay mostly in bed; or (2) have John continue without the feeding tube and endure the difficulties that came with his inability to eat. The doctor said, “It’s your life. You should make the decision. What do you want to do?” Calmly and remarkably clearly, John replied, “No tube.”
Tears trickled from my eyes as we left the doctor’s office. Memories of John’s recent remarks and actions came to mind, making it clear that he had known this was coming and had already accepted it. My love for John led me to support his choice.
I believed I knew what that meant. In reality, I did not. Neither did I know how gratitude would ease my pain.
Throughout his life, John had loved the words of 1 Thessalonians 5:18: “In every thing give thanks.” Before mealtime prayers, for instance, John never asked someone to “say the blessing.” Instead, he always said, “Let’s give thanks.” John knew that gratitude was vital to happiness. He also knew, as the rest of that verse from Thessalonians continues about gratitude, “for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.”
John recognized that death is part of God’s plan (see Alma 42:8–9) and that for him, death was near. But he continued faithful in Christ with gratitude.
After leaving the doctor’s office, John and I called a family council. Our family who lived far away joined us through video conferencing. We began with prayer. Then, as I held John’s hand, I shared his decision and what the doctor told us to expect. I spoke of the peace we both felt and reminded our family of the comforting feelings everyone had experienced for months. All of us, including the grandchildren, realized that Papa (as they called John) did not have long to live.
We had expressed gratitude to God for letting us all know that time with John was short and for granting us the opportunity to prepare emotionally. A few weeks prior to this day, our son Spencer had asked John how he felt about dying. John had responded, “I’ve lived a good life, and I am still trying to do so. I’m grateful for my life! As long as Carma Lee is by my side, I’m not eager to die, but I’m also not afraid.” John was prepared and, because of that, he felt at peace (see Doctrine and Covenants 38:30).
We sat in family council, with our hearts aching and tears falling, yet we also felt peace. We asked John if he had any last wishes. He looked at us with love and longing in his eyes; then, although for weeks he had only spoken in a whisper, he said one word distinctly: “Temple.” His sons immediately replied, “We’ll make that happen, Dad!”
Our family council ended with our sons, who were with us in person, giving both John and me a priesthood blessing. As they laid their hands on my head, gratitude filled me. I felt warmth, like that of a loving hug. I knew God would help us traverse the challenges ahead. He would soften the grief and help us find the joy.
That is exactly what happened! We soon attended the temple again, with our sons helping John through the endowment session. I was so grateful! The Spirit filled our hearts.
As John’s condition worsened, he and I continued our practice of beginning and ending each day with prayers of gratitude. As we did so, we found that grief did not overwhelm us or our posterity. Each one had opportunities to hug Papa and express their love and gratitude for him. We found moments of joy. Peace seeped into the hearts of our posterity and others who visited, strengthening them and softening their grief too.
However, despite the peace that prevailed in our home, watching my vibrant, exceedingly active husband deteriorate and lose 50 pounds in a month was heart-wrenching. Late at night on April 21, John lay in bed. He was surrounded by his children and me. We sensed that his spirit would depart his body at any moment. I lay beside him, holding his hand and whispering words of love and gratitude for our life. I thanked him for the inspiring example he had set as he responded to his afflictions by turning to the Lord in faith and gratitude. I kissed him. Within seconds, he was gone.
After John’s body was taken away, our family sat together in our home. Tears fell from our eyes as we expressed thankfulness that John’s mortal suffering had ended. Words of gratitude spilled from my mouth as I thought of the many tender mercies Heavenly Father had given to us (see 1 Nephi 1:20). God had enabled me to care for John in our home, despite having physical issues myself (which actually necessitated multiple surgeries not long after John died).
As we talked, I was comforted as I expressed thanks for the eternal promises of our temple covenants (see Doctrine and Covenants 132:19–20). I told my children I felt like Johnny was hugging me, confirming what I was saying as I expressed gratitude. What a joyous feeling! I reminded my family of President Russell M. Nelson’s words in November 2020: “Practicing gratitude may not prevent us from experiencing sorrow, anger, or pain, but it can help us look forward with hope.”1
Suddenly, I felt a heavenly embrace so strongly that it filled me with awe. I also felt that John was well and happy and that I should be too. Right then, I promised myself—and my sweetheart—that I would be.
As the weeks passed, I marveled that most often peace and joy, not grief, dominated my heart. I contemplated why. One day, I decided to research the words of our prophets and apostles that relate to grief and gratitude. They confirmed what I had already concluded: that I had been strengthened by the comforting power of Jesus Christ and His Atonement, along with my gratitude.
The title of a 2005 Ensign article by President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018) struck me deeply. It was called “The Profound Power of Gratitude.” In that article, President Monson said:
“God in His infinite mercy has not left grieving loved ones to wonder. He has provided truth. He will inspire an upward reach, and His outstretched arms will embrace you. Jesus promises to one and all who grieve, ‘I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you’ [John 14:18].”2
I realized I had been experiencing God’s comfort and embrace. They were profound and powerful! They enabled me to look at John’s picture each morning and smile as I said, “Thank you!” to him and to God!
Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has perfectly described what I experienced: “When we are grateful to God in our circumstances, we can experience gentle peace in the midst of tribulation. In grief, we can still lift up our hearts in praise. In pain, we can glory in Christ’s Atonement. In the cold of bitter sorrow, we can experience the closeness and warmth of heaven’s embrace.”3
These blessings were what I had felt within minutes of John’s death and in the days since! I am grateful for the peace in my heart and how I continually feel God’s embrace. I never want to lose those feelings! And so, I continue to express gratitude daily for my sacred experiences, for gospel knowledge that brings me closer to Jesus Christ, for the strengthening comfort made possible by Him and His Atonement, and for an eternal perspective and the hope of spending eternity with my Johnny.

Writing in your journal should not be just for your posterity though, cautions Colleen Bell, 17, of Chicago, Illinois. You should get satisfaction from it, too. “When I began writing in my journal three years ago, I was painfully aware that I was writing for posterity. I felt that my life should be recorded and that I should portray the best part of me that nobody knew. I wanted my great-grandchildren to see what I had been and to like me. I’m afraid that the first few passages of my journal were a bit stilted because of this.
“Yet as time went on and I became more used to writing thoughts that had always remained unexpressed, I was no longer writing for posterity, but for myself. It became the most effective way for me to talk to myself and figure out what I was thinking. Reading it over now, I see my growth over the past three years.”