Gospel Story Finder

The generous action of a choir member’s spouse brought lasting results. Four choir members and two spouses had taken a taxi to the Hadassah-Hebrew University Medical Centre in Kadesh to see the famous Chagall windows portraying the Twelve Tribes of Israel. “All of Jerusalem is talking about your choir,” said Yocheved, the receptionist. But when asked if she would be attending the final concert that night, she stammered that “complications” would not allow it.
After the six left, they realized that the “complications” meant that she did not have the money for a ticket. Quickly, they returned, and one of the spouses gave her his concert ticket. Her joyful response was spontaneous, and during the concert that evening, she was moved to tears. She embraced each of her new friends after the concert and said, “I didn’t have any way to repay you for your kindness. I did not even know your names, so today I planted a tree at the Hadassah Hospital in the name of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. It will continue to live and grow, and the next time you come to Jerusalem, you can see your tree. Your being here has brought us joy and peace.”

Let me tell you a personal story about brokenness.
When our children were young, they decided they wanted to take piano lessons. My husband, Rudy, and I wanted to provide our children this opportunity, but we had no piano. We could not afford a new piano, so Rudy started looking for a used one.
That year for Christmas, he surprised us all with a piano, and through the years, our children learned to play.
When our sons grew up and left the house, the old piano just collected dust, so we sold it. A few years went by, and we had saved some money. One day Rudy said, “I think it’s time we get a new piano.”
I asked, “Why would we get a new piano, when neither of us plays?”
He said, “Oh, but we can get a piano that plays itself! By using an iPad, you can program the piano to play over 4,000 songs, including hymns, Tabernacle Choir songs, all the Primary songs, and so many more.”
Rudy is a great salesperson, to say the least.
We purchased a beautiful new player piano, and a few days later, two big, strong men delivered it to our house.
I showed them where I wanted it and moved out of the way.
It was a heavy baby grand, and to fit it through the door, they removed the legs and managed to put the piano sideways on top of a moving dolly that they had brought with them.
Our house sat on a little bit of a slope, and unfortunately earlier that day it had snowed, leaving things wet and slushy. Can you see where this is going?
While the men were moving the piano up the little slope, it slipped, and I heard a big, loud crash. The piano had fallen off the moving dolly and hit the ground so hard that it left a big dent in our lawn.
I said, “Oh, my goodness. Are you OK?”
Thankfully both men were OK.
Their eyes were wide as they looked at each other, then looked at me and said, “We are so sorry. We’ll take it back to the store and have our manager call you.”
Soon the manager was talking with Rudy to arrange delivery of a new piano. Rudy is kind and forgiving and told the manager it was OK if they just repaired the damage and brought back the same piano, but the manager insisted on getting us a new one.
Rudy responded, saying, “It couldn’t be that bad. Just fix it up and bring it over.”
The manager said, “The wood is broken, and once the wood is broken, it can never sound the same. You will get a new piano.”
Sisters and brothers, aren’t we all like this piano, a little broken, cracked, and damaged, feeling like we will never be the same again? However, as we come unto Jesus Christ by exercising faith in Him, repenting, and making and keeping covenants, our brokenness—whatever its cause—can be healed. This process, which invites the Savior’s healing power into our lives, does not just restore us to what we were before but makes us better than we ever were. I know that through our Savior, Jesus Christ, we can all be mended, made whole, and fulfill our purpose, just like a beautiful-sounding, brand-new piano.
President Russell M. Nelson taught: “When sore trials come upon us, it’s time to deepen our faith in God, to work hard, and to serve others. Then He will heal our broken hearts. He will bestow upon us personal peace and comfort. Those great gifts will not be destroyed, even by death.”
Jesus said:
“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
“Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
“For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28–30).
To heal brokenness by coming unto Him, we need to have faith in Jesus Christ. “Having faith in Jesus Christ means relying completely on Him—trusting in His infinite power … and love. It includes believing His teachings. It means believing that even though we do not understand all things, He does. Because He has experienced all our pains, afflictions, and infirmities, He knows how to help us rise above our daily difficulties.”
As we come unto Him, “we can be filled with joy, peace, and consolation. All that is [hard and challenging] about life can be made right through the Atonement of Jesus Christ.” He has counseled us, “Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not” (Doctrine and Covenants 6:36).
In the Book of Mormon when Alma and his people were nearly crushed by the burdens placed upon them, the people pleaded for relief. The Lord didn’t take away their burdens; instead He promised them:
“And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions.
“And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord” (Mosiah 24:14–15).
Of the Savior’s ability to heal and lighten burdens, Elder Tad R. Callister has taught:
“One of the blessings of the Atonement is that we can receive of the Savior’s succoring powers. Isaiah spoke repeatedly of the Lord’s healing, calming influence. He testified that the Savior was ‘a strength to the needy in his distress, a refuge from the storm, a shadow from the heat’ (Isaiah 25:4). As to those who sorrow, Isaiah declared that the Savior possessed the power to ‘comfort all that mourn’ (Isaiah 61:2), and ‘wipe away tears from off all faces’ (Isaiah 25:8; see also Revelation 7:17); ‘revive the spirit of the humble’ (Isaiah 57:15); and ‘bind up the brokenhearted’ (Isaiah 61:1; see also Luke 4:18; Psalm 147:3). So expansive was his succoring power that he could exchange ‘beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness’ (Isaiah 61:3).
“Oh, what hope soars in those promises! … His spirit heals; it refines; it comforts; it breathes new life into hopeless hearts. It has the power to transform all that is ugly and vicious and worthless in life to something of supreme and glorious splendor. He has the power to convert the ashes of mortality to the beauties of eternity.”
I testify that Jesus Christ is our loving Savior, our Redeemer, the Master Healer, and our faithful friend. If we turn to Him, He will heal us and make us whole again. I testify this is His Church and He is preparing to return once again to reign with power and glory on this earth. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Recently Sister Gong and I saw covenant belonging at its tender best in a hospital room. A young father desperately needed a kidney transplant. His family had wept, fasted, and prayed for him to receive a kidney. When news came that a life-saving kidney had just become available, his wife quietly said, “I hope the other family is OK.” To belong by covenant is, in the words of the Apostle Paul, “that I may be comforted together with you by the mutual faith both of you and me.”13

At any given recovery meeting, a variety of addictions may be represented. Steve, for example, was addicted to prescription drugs. He initially took medication for a back injury, but after his injury had healed, he lied and eventually stole in order to get more prescription drugs. Steve, who served as a counselor in a bishopric, ended up in jail wearing his suit one Sunday when he was supposed to be conducting sacrament meeting. It was at that point he knew he needed help.
Steve, who found himself in jail wearing his church suit, says, “Today I’m clean and sober because of my Heavenly Father and the 12 steps.” His activity in the Church is especially meaningful to him. “I am a father. I am a priests quorum adviser. I am also a facilitator because I want to give back to a program that gave so freely to me.”

“Who knows the parable of the Good Samaritan?” Sister Stewart asked her CTR class.
“I do!” exclaimed Erin, raising her hand. “It’s the story about the man who was hurt by robbers and two different men passed him by and the Good Samaritan stopped and helped.”
“Very good, Erin. Thank you. Not only did the Good Samaritan stop and help, but he took the man to an inn. Let’s read about it in Luke 10:30–35. Who brought scriptures today?”
The children took turns reading the verses. Then Sister Stewart asked, “Dan, what did the Good Samaritan do at the inn?”
“He gave the innkeeper money and asked him to take care of the injured man.”
“That’s right. Not only did the Good Samaritan help the injured man, but he went the extra mile and made sure that he would be cared for after they were at the inn. I challenge each of you to perform a service for someone this week and to go the extra mile. We’ll talk about some of your experiences next Sunday in class.”
On the way home from church, Erin tried to think of something she could do. It must be something for someone who really needs my help, she decided. But she couldn’t think of anything. That night as she knelt by her bed, she asked Heavenly Father to help her find someone who really needed her help.
Days went by and nothing happened. Erin did a lot of good service. She helped with the dishes and made refreshments for family home evening, for instance. But they were all things she always did. Mother and Father were always grateful for Erin’s helpfulness and often told her so. But now Erin wanted to do something special.
Finally Sunday came again. A whole week had gone by, and no one other than her own family had needed Erin’s help. She sat in the car for a while watching people walk by on their way into the church. What will I tell Sister Stewart and my class? she wondered as she got out of the car to go in for Sunday School opening exercises.
Just then the Armstrong family’s green van rumbled loudly into the parking lot. There were five children in the family, all under six years old. Sister Armstrong obviously had been in a hurry all morning, because her hair was still wet and one of the children was still eating a piece of toast. Brother Armstrong, a member of the bishopric, had come to church for early morning meetings, so Sister Armstrong was left alone to get herself and her five children dressed in their Sunday clothes and be to church on time.
As Erin watched, Sister Armstrong searched for two-year-old Lizzy’s shoes, which had been kicked under the seat.
Sister Perkins rushed by with her arms full of books, flowers, and papers, calling, “Good morning, Sister Armstrong!”
As Sister Armstrong struggled to put Lizzy’s shoes back on her, baby Mark spit up all over his clothes. Three-year-old Crystal had given gum to everyone while her mother wasn’t looking, and now four-year-old Ashley had gum stuck in her pretty braid. The only one who wasn’t causing a problem was five-year-old Marilyn, who had been sent into church by her mom to find her father. In the midst of all the confusion, Sister Armstrong sat down and cried.
Suddenly Erin realized that the Armstrong family was the answer to her prayers. She set her scriptures down and rushed over to the van. Erin said earnestly, “Let me help you, Sister Armstrong. What can I do first?”
“Erin, you’re a lifesaver!” exclaimed Sister Armstrong as she dried her eyes.
Together they put Lizzy’s shoes back on, cleaned up Mark, and got the gum out of Ashley’s hair. Then Erin grabbed her scriptures before carrying Mark and the diaper bag into church. Partway up the hall they met Brother Armstrong.
“I see you’ve found yourself a Good Samaritan,” he said as he scooped up Mark and led the way into the chapel.
Erin sat with the Armstrongs during opening exercises, then offered to take Lizzy and Crystal to their Primary classes.
“You’ve been a great help this morning, Erin. Thank you very much,” said Sister Armstrong.
“I’d like to help every Sunday, if that’s all right. I can wait outside for you and then sit with you during Sunday School opening exercises.”
Sister Armstrong was very glad to accept Erin’s help. As she walked down the hall to her own class, Erin thought about the smile on Sister Armstrong’s face. A warm tingle flowed from Erin’s head to her toes. She had met the challenge to serve and go the extra mile.
That night as Erin knelt by her bed, she thanked Heavenly Father for guiding her to the Armstrong family and helping her learn how wonderful it felt to serve others and go the extra mile.

When I reflect on the race of life, I remember another type of race, even from childhood days. When I was about ten, my boyfriends and I would take pocketknives in hand and, from the soft wood of a willow tree, fashion small toy boats. With a triangular-shaped cotton sail in place, each boy would launch his crude craft in the race down the relatively turbulent waters of the Provo River. We would run along the river’s bank and watch the tiny vessels sometimes bobbing violently in the swift current and at other times sailing serenely as the water deepened.

During one such race we noted that one boat led all the rest toward the appointed finish line. Suddenly the current carried it too close to a large whirlpool, and the boat heaved to its side and capsized. Around and around it was carried, unable to make its way back into the main current. At last it came to an uneasy rest at the end of the pool, amid the flotsam and jetsam that surrounded it.

The toy boats of childhood had no keel for stability, no rudder to provide direction, and no source of power. Inevitably their destination was downstream—the path of least resistance.

Last Halloween, members of the Redlands Second Ward Mutual in the San Bernardino California Stake were busy making cookies and marking scriptures instead of sewing costumes and painting faces. Their efforts culminated in a “trick or treat in reverse” the evening of October 27, their regular Mutual night, when they treated 27 nonmember families to homemade cookies and a Book of Mormon.

The ward seventies group leader and the young people themselves decided who to visit. The youth were then divided into groups of six, with one representative from each Mutual class in each group. After presenting the families with the Book of Mormon and the cookies, they asked them: “Do you have any questions for us? Representatives of our church would like to stop by in a few days and see what you think of the message of the book. Would that be all right with you?” A week after the event, a list of 18 families who had been visited was turned over to the seventies quorum. These families have been contacted by stake and full-time missionaries for teaching possibilities, and families in the ward are fellowshipping the contacts. At least one girl who was visited that evening has been baptized.

The spirit of the evening was summed up by Mia Maid Rachel Hansen, who said: “We who were giving and those friends who were receiving felt a special closeness. It was a beautiful experience to see one of our nonmember friends feel the joy of accepting the gospel.”

I was called to serve as a missionary and assigned to the Brazil Florianópolis Mission. I spent seven months there and ended up returning home early. When I was going home, I said a prayer asking Heavenly Father to not release me as a missionary. After I prayed, I felt the Spirit telling me that everything would be OK.
During my first week home, I trusted in the way I felt after I prayed at the airport. I began helping in the temple store. When I got the chance to meet with my stake president, he was very happy to hear of my service and said he wouldn’t release me. I was then assigned to be a service missionary in my home mission, the Recife Northeast Mission.
My service mission includes various assignments. During the week I help in the temple shop, the temple office, and the laundry room. There is always something to do at the temple—the missionaries never sit still there.
On Saturdays I help with institute. I participated in the institute’s missionary preparation class to share what I learned on the mission—it felt so good to share. I also help distribute food to the students after class.
In addition to my specific assignments, I use my social networks to share the gospel. I have a page I created when I was 17 years old that talks about the youth program.
The Lord has called us to serve. He knows us and our capabilities. Service missions are inspired by the Lord, and if you were assigned to serve one, it’s because the Lord needs your help in building His kingdom.
Even if I’m sad or facing difficulties, I really like it when I complete each month of my mission and can reflect on how I’ve grown and been strengthened during that time. I love my mission. It really is inspired by the Lord.

One of the most rewarding experiences I have had this year came when I decorated some rooms in a rest home with gas-filled balloons. These simple, colorful ornaments brought cheerful smiles and happy eyes.

At Christmastime I accepted an invitation to participate as a sub for Santa. I went to a grateful but humble little home. They had done all they could, but needed some help. Our family provided the finishing touches. But what I want to tell you about is the gift this little family gave back to the world. They had a little home in the middle of an industrial area. I did not go inside the home, but the outside was brightly lighted with Christmas lights adding a cheery holiday glow to that dreary, dismal neighborhood.

My name is Allison S., and I live in Nashville, Tennessee. I am eight years old, and I was just baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Some of my family members came to my baptism. My little sister, Abigail, and my brother, Daniel, were there. My grandparents came all the way from Utah. My mom helped me get dressed, and my dad baptized me. I was baptized in the same dress that my mom wore when she got baptized when she was a little girl.
I invited some of my friends to come to my baptism too. Some of them were from school and some were from Girl Scouts. None of them are members of the Church, but I knew they would want to be there on my special day.
All of my friends believe in the Bible, so we have that in common. I asked my friends to write down their favorite Bible verses and bring them to my baptism. After my baptism, I underlined the verses is my own Bible and wrote my friends’ names in the margins. My friend Katie gave me Proverbs 17:17, which says, “A friend loveth at all times.” Another friend, Molly, brought Romans 8:28. It says, “all things work together for good to them that love God.”

Let me share with you two contrasting responses: One patient was a 36-year-old woman; I’ll use the name Mary. When we operated on her, we found cancer spread throughout her entire abdominal cavity. When I faced Mary the next morning, she asked soberly, “I have cancer, don’t I?” My reluctant response was, “Yes, you have cancer.” Her next question was, “How long do I have to live?” I explained that it was impossible to set an exact time. She hoped I wouldn’t misunderstand her question. She was not afraid to die, she said.
Mary was at peace with her Father in heaven because she had just completed a special course for senior Aaronic Priesthood bearers. It was called “Project Temple.” She spoke of her husband and her teenage daughter who had not been active in the Church until the three of them had attended the “Project Temple” meetings. At the conclusion of the experience, the bishop had assured them that in six months they could go to the temple if they would do the things they knew they should. Mary’s plea was to stay alive for that six months so she could go to the temple and be sealed to her family. “If I can stay alive that long, then I will die without complaining,” she would tell me. Mary stayed alive for that six months. During her entire stay in the hospital, she was cheerful and seemingly without pain, even though her body was filled with a disease that ordinarily is extremely painful and requires large amounts of narcotics. Mary needed none, and she literally folded her arms and died—without a complaint.

I want to share with you an experience I had this summer. I spent three days in a wilderness camp with 150 youth. We did a lot of hiking and had some hard physical challenges like when we rappelled down an eighty-foot cliff. On the last day we were given instructions to go into the woods alone. Before leaving the group, each youth was given a letter from home which had been written by his or her mother or father for this occasion.
When I went out alone, I took my scriptures with me. I read about my Father in Heaven’s love for all of us and for me. It was then that I realized that these scriptures are like letters from home.
After a time we gathered together. Everyone had opened and read his or her letter. One young woman stood expressing the feelings of her heart. She held her letter close. In her words, “I nearly bawled my face off when I sat there alone and realized how much my mom and dad love me.” I nearly bawled my face off when I read again about how very much our Father in Heaven loves us.
Can you imagine being away from home and receiving a letter from your parents and not bothering to open it or read it? This is what happens when we don’t read these precious records. The holy scriptures are like letters from home telling us how we can draw near to our Father in Heaven. He tells us to come as we are. No one will be denied. He loves everyone. (See 3 Ne. 9:14, 17–18.)

There are two main experiences that led to my testimony of Christ. The first happened the day my big brother died. He passed away on a Scout outing in eastern Arizona. I was 14 years old. When my parents and I found out, we were heartbroken.
At first, it was hard to imagine that I would be living the rest of my life without my big brother. But I was wrong. From the moment I heard of his death, I felt peace. I was at peace because Christ was there to mourn with me when I mourned and comfort me when I needed comfort. Never for one minute did I feel alone.
More than a year later, I participated in the Mesa Temple Easter Pageant. It depicts Christ’s life on the earth and plays six nights during the week of Easter. The best part was that it took place on the temple grounds. I was just one of the crowd in a cast of 300. For several weeks, I was able to spend hours near a house of the Lord.
As I watched Christ’s life portrayed to thousands of people, I was able to witness a representation of His birth. I was feet away when He was shown healing the sick and raising the dead. I watched when He was portrayed suffering and atoning for the sins of the world, and I was there when He was depicted dying on the cross for all. I was there and saw the portrayal of Him rising from the dead three days later, and I saw the representation of Him ascending to His Father.
The feelings I had at that time are indescribable. It seemed so real to me. I was able to testify of Christ’s message many times to those who had never heard it—that He lives!
I know that Jesus Christ is our Savior and Redeemer. He is the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords. He is the way, the truth, and the life. Because of Him I can be with my brother again. Because of Him, I can be with Heavenly Father. This message is what will save the world in the last days. If we have faith in Him, we can receive blessings beyond measure. If we follow Him, we can become like Him.

After graduating from high school, I felt impressed to visit all four of my grandparents. I had some free time, and I realized that I might not have this opportunity again, so I spent one week with each set of my grandparents.
I spent my time going through old boxes, reading old letters, and looking at old pictures. I recorded my grandparents’ life stories, walked around cemeteries, and visited where my grandparents and their relatives had lived and worked. It was fun! I learned so much about my ancestors, my grandparents, my parents, and myself. I realized that I wouldn’t have the life that I have if it weren’t for my ancestors.
After my trip, I came back with about 1,000 of my ancestors’ names and have been able to do the temple work for many of them. Following the promptings of the Holy Ghost and visiting with my grandparents was one of the best decisions I have ever made.
Shenley P., California, USA

Erdenet Mongolia Branch
They cooked pizza on reflector ovens; they sang, danced, had classes, and even ate a meal with hot dogs as the main course. Twenty-three young women from the Erdenet Mongolia Branch strengthened each other as they spent three days at girls’ camp in the Mongolian countryside in Bugat. At the testimony meeting they spoke of their love for the Savior and for each other, and of their gratitude for the Church.

I find in the life of my grandfather and grandmother Alexander DeWitt and Louise Vickery Christofferson an instance of such consecration. Grandpa was a strong man and was good at shearing sheep in the days before electric clippers. He got good enough, he said, that “in one day I sheared 287 sheep and could have sheared over 300, but we ran out of sheep.” During 1919 he sheared over 12,000 sheep, earning some $2,000. The money would have substantially expanded his farm and upgraded his home, but a call to serve in the Southern States Mission came from the Brethren, and with Louise’s full support, he accepted. He left his wife (then pregnant with their first son, my father) and their three daughters with the sheep-shearing money. Upon his joyous return two years later, he observed, “Our savings had lasted us throughout the two years, and we had $29 left.”

Brenna was crying. She sat in a barber’s chair, hair pulled back, her ponytail just moments away from being cut off. The hairdresser holding the scissors was crying. Those watching the scene were also in tears.
Snip! Brenna’s long hair, which had taken years to grow out, was gone. Her ponytail would now become a gift, a donation to an organization called Locks of Love. It would be combined with other donated hair and made into wigs for children who had lost their hair because of cancer treatment or who suffer from alopecia, a permanent hair-loss condition.

Katy skipped along the sidewalk toward the big oak tree at the corner of her street. The old tree made Nana’s house easy to find.
As usual, Nana was sitting in her living room, quietly braiding and sewing strips of bright cloth. The polished wooden floors of Nana’s house were decorated with beautiful rugs that Nana made herself.
“Hello, honey,” Nana said as Katy came in. Soon they were talking about what Nana called the “old days.” They looked at black-and-white photos together. Katy especially liked seeing the clothes and hairstyles her relatives wore when they were younger.
“Things were very different then,” Nana said with a sigh. “You know, we didn’t have cars or TV or cell phones.”
Katy couldn’t even imagine having to walk everywhere. “What did you do for fun, Nana?” Katy asked.
“We loved to sing together. We would gather around the piano in the evening and sing our favorite songs. Sometimes we’d sing ourselves hoarse! It was such a fun time.”
Nana looked off into the yard as if she could rewind the years and watch them over again.
Katy sat next to the coiled rug that spilled off of Nana’s lap. She traced the careful stitches with her fingers.
“I’ve been thinking,” Nana said slowly. “How would you like to make your very own braided rug?”
Katy jumped up and clapped her hands.
“I would love to, Nana! Can we start today?”
Nana chuckled. “Well, there’s something you need to do first. Go home and gather up old clothes that we can cut into strips.”
Her eyes twinkled as she leaned toward Katy, her voice quiet as if she were sharing a secret.
“That’s what makes the rug special. Because it’s made of clothes, the rug can tell the story of your life. Each braid is like a chapter in a book about you. Looking at the fabric of an old dress can help you remember the places you wore it and what you did when you had it on.”
Katy’s eyes widened. She pointed to the rug Nana was braiding.
“Do you remember all about the cloth in this rug?”
Nana smiled. “You bet I do! This red piece is from the dress I wore when you were born. I remember pressing my nose to the glass window in the nursery to get a closer look at you. You were still all pink and wrinkly.”
Katy and Nana laughed together as Nana continued to tell Katy stories from the rug. As soon as Katy got home that night, she and Mama set aside old clothes that Katy could use for her rug.
The next day, Katy took the cloth to Nana’s house. Nana showed Katy how to cut the fabric into long strips, braid them, and sew the braids together.
Every day after school Katy went to work on the rug at Nana’s house.
Little by little, the rug grew. As the days went by Katy learned many of Nana’s stories by heart. Some days she was the one who told stories to Nana.
One day, after adding a blue strip of cloth that used to be a favorite pair of jeans, Katy rubbed the palm of her hand against the colorful braids.
“Don’t you think that rug is about done?” Nana asked, looking up from her work.
“Not yet,” Katy said with a smile. She never wanted this time with Nana to end.

Our family knew a young lady who passed away from skin cancer. But even while on her death bed, unable to care for herself, she chose to exercise positive power by expressing love and gratitude to all those that attended her and visited with her. She was a perfect example of grace and Christlike love. She didn’t complain or bemoan her lot in life. She trusted our Heavenly Father and accepted His will. Though in great pain, she was truly an angel, and her positive power has had a lasting impact on the many lives she touched before she passed away. Many people in her situation would be bitter. She was young, vibrant, and newly married to a loving husband, with all the promise of a wonderful life ahead of her. She had every reason to complain, but she was one who had learned the power of choosing to be positive and speaking words that would inspire and uplift. This young woman chose the light of God’s positive power.

A man wrote a General Authority about how the power of the Atonement helped him with his problem of same-gender attraction. He had been excommunicated for serious transgressions that violated his temple covenants and his responsibilities to his children. He had to choose whether to attempt to live the gospel or whether to continue a course contrary to its teachings.
“I knew it would be difficult,” he wrote, “but I didn’t realize what I would have to go through.” His letter describes the emptiness and loneliness and the incredible pain he experienced from deep within his soul as he sought to return. He prayed mightily for forgiveness, sometimes for hours at a time. He was sustained by reading the scriptures, by the companionship of a loving bishop, and by priesthood blessings. But what finally made the difference was the help of the Savior. He explained:
“It [was] only through Him and His Atonement. … I now feel an overwhelming gratitude. My pains have been almost more than I could bear at times, and yet they were so small compared to what He suffered. Where there once was darkness in my life, there is now love and gratitude.”
He continues: “Some profess that change is possible and therapy is the only answer. They are very learned on the subject and have so much to offer those who struggle … , but I worry that they forget to involve Heavenly Father in the process. If change is to happen, it will happen according to the will of God. I also worry that many people focus on the causes of [same-gender attraction]. … There is no need to determine why I have [this challenge]. I don’t know if I was born with it, or if environmental factors contributed to it. The fact of the matter is that I have this struggle in my life and what I do with it from this point forward is what matters” (letter dated Mar. 25, 2006).