Gospel Story Finder

One person who would have loved to watch this young woman develop her skill on the ice is Holly’s grandfather. He knew the lure of speed and grace on the slippery surface. He himself was a speed skater, and he taught his little girl, Holly’s mother, to skate. But he did not live to see his granddaughter follow in his blade marks.
Still Holly is influenced by him and the stories of him her mother has told her. “I hope that he has seen me skate. I think of him even though I didn’t know him. I think of how he used to skate, then my mom skated, and now I skate. And I wonder if my children and grandchildren will skate too. Sometimes I skate remembering my grandfather, and that encourages me.”

After the boxes were prepared to go again, they were finally ready to be given to the coordinators at the hospice office, which was just down the street from the business where the boxes were being stored. But this time the youth decided that loading piles of boxes into a car for transport wasn’t such a good idea. After all, that was what had damaged many of the wrapping jobs the first time around. They decided that since the boxes had such a short way to travel, they would form a human chain from the location where the boxes were being stored to where they needed to go.

There aren’t too many LDS youth in West Plains, so they invited Primary children, adult leaders, and anyone else who wanted to help. They donned elves’ caps and spread out right through the heart of downtown West Plains. The boxes were handed from one person to another, and soon they were all safely at their destination, ready to be filled with food from the West Plains Ward and other community groups.

The group attracted a bit of attention from passersby, who were invited to join in. They didn’t have many takers, but several people did find out where they could donate food to go inside the boxes.

“Doing a project like this really makes you feel good,” says Heather Camier, a Beehive. “It’s great to work together as a group for a good cause. It’s the best this time of year; it really makes it feel like Christmas.”

Daniel L. Carter
As a young boy in Idaho, Dan Carter often cried when he listened to the Tabernacle Choir at conference time because the music was so beautiful. He said, “I always yearned to be able to share my testimony and feelings of the gospel through music.”
When he was asked to write a song to help prepare boys to receive the priesthood, he worried about his ability to write one that boys would enjoy singing. “After several weeks of working and rewriting, an idea for the music came. … I felt … sure that this song [‘A Young Man Prepared’] could help boys.”

For some, there will come the temptation to dishonor a personal standard of honesty. In a business law class at the university I attended, I remember that one particular classmate never prepared for the class discussions. I thought to myself, How is he going to pass the final examination?

I discovered the answer when he came to the classroom for the final examination, on a winter’s day, wearing on his bare feet only a pair of sandals. I was surprised and watched him as the class began. All of his books had been placed upon the floor. He slipped the sandals from his feet; and then, with toes that he had trained and had prepared with glycerine, he skillfully turned the pages of one of the books which he had placed on the floor, thereby viewing the answers to the examination questions.

He received one of the highest grades in that course on business law. But the day of reckoning came. Later, as he prepared to take his comprehensive examination, for the first time the dean of his particular discipline said, “This year I shall depart from tradition and shall conduct an oral, rather than a written, test.” Our favorite, trained-toe expert found that he had his foot in his mouth on that occasion and failed the examination.

A few years ago, our family gathered to discuss where we should spend our Christmas vacation within our country. Two of my children—both energetic and outgoing—wanted us to stay in a hotel in Kenema. My wife and I understood their excitement, but we also knew how that choice would affect our savings and limit our ability to extend help to needy family members. Kenema is where many of our extended relatives live and also a place where they value culture. Christmas has always been a time when we try to open our arms to those who may come to visit.
What started as a simple decision soon turned into repeated strain. The children who wanted the hotel stay felt misunderstood; the others felt opposed for thinking differently. Small communication has broken down here. Some days my wife and I felt indecisive, wondering whether we were failing as parents—especially because the conflict was beginning to overshadow the spirit of the holiday.
We prayed and counselled together, searching for a way to honour our children’s desires while also teaching the deeper principle of balancing personal enjoyment with charity. Eventually, we found a middle path: a simple Catholic guesthouse with enough room for all of us, affordable enough to preserve what we needed to bless others, yet still giving the children the feeling of being “away” for the holiday. It was not exactly what anyone originally wanted, but it was something that honoured everyone’s needs.
During that period of tension, I spent many moments on my dialogue. One day, as I prayed, a calm feeling settled over me. A thought entered my mind—gentle but clear. It reminded me of something President D. Todd Christofferson has taught that parents are called not merely to keep peace in the home but to lead their children toward higher principles—and that true discipleship often requires deliberate, loving correction, patient teaching, and choices that reflect eternal priorities rather than momentary desires.
He teaches that families grow stronger when parents guide with purpose, helping children learn to choose what builds faith, unity, and compassion—even when those choices require sacrifice.
Remembering that helped me breathe again. It reminded me that our role was not to please every wish but to guide our children toward Christlike balance—toward understanding that joy, charity, and family unity can and must coexist.
And as we moved forward with love and steady leadership, hearts softened. The arguments faded. And our family grew closer—not just because we found a place to stay but because we learned, together, what President Christofferson teaches so often: that true happiness in families comes when love, sacrifice, and discipleship walk hand in hand.
“Love them first. Teach them second.”
That night, instead of teaching them about obedience or respect, I gathered all of our family and expressed how much we loved them. I shared memories of my childhood, their kindness, and the joy they brought into our home. To my surprise, they softened. One of them began to appreciate sharing gifts and coordinating plans to assist when the opportunity arises. Our family grew stronger not by avoiding conflict but by facing it with love and the help of the Lord.

Several months ago, I was invited to speak to the young women in the stake in which I had grown up. I was excited and anxious for this opportunity. My mother went with me, and we arrived a little early. The meeting was held in the building where I had attended church until I went away to college. I had not been back for a long time, and I did not anticipate what would happen when I walked inside the front doors. A flood of memories came washing over me, and I began to cry. My mother looked at me and said, “Elaine, don’t start that now.” But the tears flowed as I viewed the office at the top of the beautiful marble stairs where my father had served as the bishop. As I reached the top of the stairs, the door to the bishop’s office was open. I went inside and saw that it had been converted to a small classroom, and again a flood of memories came washing over me. In my mind’s eye, I could see my father sitting behind the desk and myself as a little girl sitting on the chair in front of it paying tithing and as a young woman having interviews and receiving priesthood blessings. My love for that building was deeply tied to the spiritual experiences and feelings I had had there.
Often as a young girl I would accompany my bishop father to the church and wait until his meetings or interviews were over. I would busy myself by exploring. I knew every nook and cranny of that building. One of my favorite rooms was the tower room. It was a large room at the top of some steep steps. Inside there was a picture of the Savior, which hung over a large fireplace. I was always drawn to that room. I would ascend the steps and reverently go inside. I would sit on a chair and look at the picture of the Savior and pray to Heavenly Father. These were simple prayers. But always when I prayed, a very special feeling seemed to engulf me, and I knew that He heard my childlike prayers. This is where I began to believe.
The Lord has promised us that as we “search diligently, pray always, and be believing, … all things [will] work together for [our] good” (D&C 90:24; emphasis added). That doesn’t mean that everything will be perfect or that we will not have any trials, but it does mean that everything will be okay if we just “hang in there.” Ours is the opportunity to “be … an example of the believers” (1 Timothy 4:12), and the Savior has promised that “all things are possible to him that believeth” (Mark 9:23). So believe in yourselves. Believe that you are never alone. Believe that you will always be guided.
Elder David B. Haight of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said of you: “We believe in you, your parents and brothers and sisters believe in you, and God expects the best from you. You must believe in yourself. Don’t give in when the going is rough, for you are laying the foundation of a great work, and that great work is your life” (“A Time for Preparation,” Ensign, Nov. 1991, 38).
President Gordon B. Hinckley has told us: “I believe in myself. I do not mean this in an egotistic way. But I believe in my capacity and in your capacity to do good, to make some contribution to the society of which we are a part, to grow and develop, and to do things that we may now think impossible. … I believe in the principle that I can make a difference in this world. It may be ever so small. But it will count for the greater good” (“I Believe,” Tambuli, Mar. 1993, 8; New Era, Sept. 1996, 8).
You are one of the greatest generations of young women ever to live on this earth. Before you came to this earth you were tutored at your Father’s knee. You have been reserved to come to the earth for a special purpose. There are things for each of you to do that no one else can do as well. You have a destiny to fulfill.
Your righteous example as one of the believers will make a difference in the world, so “be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work” (D&C 64:33).
As you strive to be an example of the believers, you may feel that you are standing alone. You may feel that you are the only one who is trying so hard to be righteous and pure. You may feel you are the only one striving to be modest in your actions, speech, and appearance. But you are not alone. There are thousands of young women like you all over the world who are striving to be an example of the believers.
Carmelita and Rosario, two young women in Jalapa, Mexico, are among those believers. They are the only members of the Church in their family, and they are living alone. When I visited their small home, they said they knew Heavenly Father loved them very much because He sent the missionaries to teach them the gospel. Although things are hard, each day they rely on their Heavenly Father’s loving care and guidance.
To Carmelita and Rosario and to each of you, I testify that you are not alone. The Lord has promised: “I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up” (D&C 84:88).
As you search the scriptures diligently and pray always, you will be guided by the Lord. A young woman living in Mongolia listened to the words of the prophets as the missionaries read passages to her from the Book of Mormon. The Book of Mormon had not yet been translated into her language, but as the missionaries translated the words for her, she believed and was baptized. She became an example of the believers in Mongolia.
Later she was called on a mission to Salt Lake City. What joy she felt! She learned English, and she purchased her very own scriptures. When she visited our home, she read reverently from her new scriptures. She loved them. I noticed that almost everything on every page was underlined in yellow. I said, “Sister Sarantsetseg, your scriptures look like the golden plates.” She replied, “I only underline the things I like.”
Everything in the scriptures is applicable to our lives. The scriptures answer our questions, they provide role models and heroes, and they help us understand how to handle challenges and trials. Many times the scriptures you read will be the answer to your prayers.
When I was about your age, my father became seriously ill. We thought it was just the flu, but as the days progressed, he became more and more ill. It was during that time that I really learned what it means to “pray always” (2 Nephi 32:9). I had a constant prayer in my heart, and I would seek solitary places where I would pour out my soul in prayer to my Heavenly Father to heal my father. After a few weeks of illness, my father passed away. I was shocked and frightened. What would our family do without our father whom we loved so dearly? How could we go on? I felt that Heavenly Father had not heard nor answered my fervent prayers. My faith was challenged. I went to Heavenly Father and asked the question—“Heavenly Father, are you really there?”
Over a period of many months, I prayed for help and guidance. I prayed for my family, and I prayed to understand why my father had not been healed. For a time, it seemed to me that the heavens were silent, but as a family we continued to pray for comfort and guidance. I continued to pray also. Then one day, many months later, as I was sitting in a sacrament meeting, my answer came in the form of a scripture. The speaker said: “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths” (Proverbs 3:5–6). A feeling came over me, and I felt I was the only person in the chapel. That was my answer. Heavenly Father had heard my prayers!
That experience happened many years ago, but I still remember it vividly, and I testify that He has directed my paths. I know that when we believe and trust in Him, “all things [will] work together for [our] good.”

Wade Lin joined the Church in 1993 after meeting missionaries in a library. He served as a full-time missionary for several months; then unusual circumstances forced him to leave his mission early to perform Taiwan’s mandatory two years of military service. Despite his full-time duties in the navy, Wade’s missionary work has continued.
At a dinner for sailors, the commanding officer gave everyone a bottle of beer for a toast. When Wade declined, the officer told him he had two choices: drink the beer or drink two large bottles of soda. Wade drank soda until he felt sick. The officer continued to be hard on him after that, but Wade stood his ground. In time others came to respect him more. Now he is often trusted with finances and other important duties, such as negotiating with military headquarters.

When I was a child, I knew that Heavenly Father answered my prayers. One evening my parents were visiting the temple and I was home. The weather was bad, and I worried they would not make it home. I was sick and could not sleep because I was coughing. Finally, I crawled out of bed and knelt down. I prayed that I could stop coughing and go to sleep, and that my parents would get home safely. I climbed back into bed and fell asleep. My parents made it home safely. This was a simple confirmation that Heavenly Father heard my prayer and answered it.

Our next stop was at the home of the American consul in the city of Porto. My companion and I had been teaching him and his family. They were rich and lived in a large home in one of the most affluent neighborhoods in the city. When we arrived at the gate of the estate, the servants recognized us and let us enter. Soon we were at the front door and started to sing the same songs we had just sting to the poor people in the monastery.
Our group consisted of more than twenty missionaries from several parts of the world—Brazil, Portugal, Angola, the United States, Canada, Paraguay, and Colombia. We had barely started the second verse of our first song when the door opened. Dozens of people came outside and started to sing with us. They were all diplomatic representatives of several countries who had gathered there to commemorate Christmas. We soon saw in their faces the same tears and smiles we had seen in the faces of the poor people living in that abandoned monastery.
When we finished singing, the wife of the consul said, “We were gathered here with everything to make us happy; nevertheless, we felt that something was missing. It was then that you came, bringing the Christmas spirit of Jesus Christ; now our Christmas is complete.”
We were invited in, and each missionary, in his own language, bore testimony to the diplomats from his country. As in the monastery, we left pamphlets and invited them to hear the discussions and attend church.
That Christmas night, we learned that sharing sacred songs and personal testimony was the best present that anyone, rich or poor, of any nation or faith, could receive. That night, those gifts without price brought the Spirit of the Lord into our hearts—the most priceless gift of all.

Thanks for helping me study for that science test. I passed, thanks to you.
No problem!
Umm … how come you’ve been so nice to me after some of us were so mean when you first got here?
Well, after you failed that first science test you looked like you needed some help.
And we had a lesson in our family home evening about being kind to others.
What’s family home evening?
Family home evening is where we get together and have lessons, and games, and treats.
My family doesn’t do anything like that.
Hey! Does your family want to come to our home evening next Monday night?
Sounds fun. I’ll ask my mom.
Mom, can I be in charge of family home evening on Monday? I invited Audrey. I hope that’s OK.
… I’ll make brownies and …
To be continued …

It was a rainy day, and everyone was gathered at Grandma’s house. Dad and Uncle Carl were putting new paneling in Grandma’s game room while Mom, Aunt Shirley, and Grandma were busy in the kitchen.
When Aunt Shirley went to set the dining room table, she said, “Stevie, dinner won’t be ready for a while. Why don’t you play somewhere else?”
Carly went to the table and knelt to look under the jiggling, low-hanging tablecloth at her cousin. “What are you doing?” she asked.
Stevie shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Come up to the attic with me.”
Stevie grinned. As they passed the den, Carly paused. “Becka, do you want to go up to the attic with us?” she asked.
Her cousin looked up from a book that she was reading and wrinkled her nose. “Yuck!” she replied. “Too many spiders!”
“I’m not afraid of spiders,” Stevie announced as he and Carly climbed the stairs to the second floor.
“Neither am I,” Carly said. They walked side by side along the carpeted hallway. “Have you ever been in Grandma’s attic?” she asked as they neared the closed attic door.
“Maybe a long time ago,” Stevie replied. “Becka says it’s spooky.”
Carly shrugged. “It’s not spooky, just dusty.” She opened the door at the bottom of the stairs and raced up them eagerly. When she reached the top, she looked around and motioned to Stevie. “Come on,” she called happily. “You can see everything from up here.”
She went to the dormer and looked out. Below, the yard and rolling hills were washed with a fine gray mist from the rain. When Stevie reached her, she moved to make room for him to rest his elbows on the windowsill.
“See? I’m not afraid of spiders,” he said proudly.
Carly nodded. “I didn’t think you were.”
“If the weather was nicer, there’d be something to do,” he sighed.
“There’s always stuff to do,” Carly said. She walked beneath the slanted ceiling toward Grandpa’s old rolltop desk and slid back the cover.
“That’s a funny-looking book,” Stevie said, pointing at a thick volume inside the desk.
“That’s the kind of book that Grandpa read.”
“How could he read when he was blind?” Stevie asked curiously.
Carly chuckled. “He read the words with his fingers. Here, give me your hand.” She opened the book and moved his fingers slowly across the page. “Feel the dots?” she asked. “It’s called Braille writing.”
Stevie frowned. “I wouldn’t want to read a book that way.”
“You would if you couldn’t see.” Carly put the book back inside the desk. “Grandpa made this desk, too,” she announced with a smile.
Stevie looked at her with wide eyes. “Oh, wow! Even though he couldn’t see?” He ran his hand over the finely finished wood. “It’s as smooth as glass!”
Carly nodded. “He said that he knew what the desk looked like, even though he couldn’t see it with his eyes. He saw lots of things people who are sighted never even notice.”
“How’d he do that?”
Carly smiled. “Shut your eyes and tell me what you know without looking.”
Stevie closed his eyelids tightly. “It’s dark,” he said with a giggle.
“That isn’t what I meant,” she said. “I’ll do it.” She closed her eyes and stood quietly. “You have to listen and feel and stuff,” she explained. “I hear the rain falling and trickling through the downspout. It almost sounds like quiet music. I smell a roast cooking and musty books … and dust. The air up here feels warm against my skin, and I can tell that the floor is bare. You moved behind me,” she added as Stevie tiptoed around her. “Now you’re picking something up.”
Stevie took her hand. “Here,” he said as he put something in it. “Tell me what this is.”
Carly closed her fingers loosely around the material. “It’s an old hunting coat,” she said as she followed the lines with her fingers. “It’s trimmed with leather and it’s dusty. There’s a jagged tear here. Maybe it was caught on a thorn. Now someone’s coming up the stairs.”
Stevie moved closer to her and grabbed her hand.
“I feel the floorboards moving slightly, and a draft just blew across my ankles.” Carly opened her eyes and turned toward the stairs.
“It’s only Becka,” Stevie said with relief.
“I knew that you’d be pretending that you were blind again!” Becka said with a scowl.
“Carly was showing me how Grandpa saw things!” Stevie explained excitedly.
“Grandpa didn’t see things!” Becka insisted. “He remembered them from the time that he could see; that’s all!”
Carly frowned. “He saw things, Becka!”
Becka tossed her head and turned back toward the stairs. “It’s too musty up here for me!” she replied with a shiver of disgust. “You’d better come with me, Stevie—before she has you acting weird too!”
“Did Mom want me to come down?” he asked.
His sister didn’t answer.
“I’ll stay up here with Carly, then,” he said.
Becka stomped down the stairs and slammed the door behind her. Carly sighed and laid the hunting coat on top of a dust-covered trunk.
“Tell me more about Grandpa,” Stevie pleaded.
“Too bad you didn’t live around here when he was alive, Stevie. He was really nice, like Grandma. He could tell by the way the birds sang if it was going to rain or if it was going to be a nice day. And by the smell in the air, he could tell when spring was coming or if there would be a frost. He said that he could tell what kind of mood I was in just by the way I hugged him or the way I walked.”
“How could he, Carly?”
“Grandpa said that some people look and don’t see; they touch but don’t feel; they listen but don’t hear. He said that God gives us more abilities than we ever think about until we lose one of them—like he lost his eyesight. Then we start to use the others just as he started to see by using his senses of touch, taste, smell, and hearing. Grandpa said that most of all we could learn to see with our hearts.”
Stevie nodded thoughtfully. “Could I learn to see with my heart, too?” he asked.
“Sure,” Carly replied. “All you have to do is start using it that way. The more you learn to see with your heart, the better you’ll become at it.”
“Becka doesn’t have a heart!”
Carly chuckled. “Sure she does, and some day she’ll learn to see with it more too.”
“Thanks for asking me to come up here with you,” Stevie told her. “It was boring under the table.”
Carly grinned. “I’m glad that you did.” Grandma’s tinkling bell sounded from far away in the dining room. “We’d better go down now,” Carly said.
At the top of the stairs, Stevie turned. “I don’t care what Becka says—I know that Grandpa really could see.”

Jeffrey Holland, president of Brigham Young University, while working on his Ph.D. at a prominent eastern American university, got to know well one of the reference librarians who had helped him with some research.
One day he said, “Ilene, I need to know how many books we have in the university library which claim to have been delivered by an angel.”
As you can imagine, the librarian gave him a peculiar look and said, “I don’t know of any books that have been delivered by angels. Swords maybe, or chariots, but I don’t know of any books.”
“Well, just run a check for me would you? It may take a little doing, but I really would like to know.”
The librarian dutifully did some checking of the nine million books in the library. For several days she had nothing to report, but then one day she smilingly said, “Mr. Holland, I have a book for you. I found one book which, it is claimed, was delivered by an angel,” and she held up a paperback copy of the Book of Mormon. “I’m told you can get them for a dollar. My goodness,” she continued, “an angel’s book for a dollar! You would think angels would charge more, but then again,” she said, “where would they spend it?” (See Pat Holland, President’s Welcome Assembly, Brigham Young University, 9 Sept. 1986).

My testimony continued to grow the next year as we read the Doctrine and Covenants. I obtained a testimony that Joseph Smith was a prophet. I also decided to follow his example and ask God if the Church is true. Although I already had conviction in my heart, one afternoon I found myself alone and sincerely prayed. As I did, I realized that the testimony I was asking for had been developing as I studied the scriptures and attended seminary.
The Lord opened my mind and my heart that year, and I understood the Doctrine and Covenants as I never had before. I also learned of the great value of souls (see D&C 18:10–16) and began to share my growing testimony with those who did not know about the gospel, including my father.

When our youngest child was six years old and in the first grade at school, her teacher gave the children an in-class writing assignment. It was October, the month of Halloween, a holiday observed in some parts of the world. While it is not my favorite holiday, I suppose there may be some innocent and redeeming aspects of Halloween.

The teacher passed out a piece of paper to the young students. At the top was a roughly drawn picture of a mythical witch (I told you this was not my favorite holiday) standing over a boiling cauldron. The question posed on the page, to encourage the imaginations of the children and to test their rudimentary writing skills, was “You have just drunk a cup of the witch’s brew. What happened to you?” Please know that this story is not being shared as a recommendation to teachers.

“You have just drunk a cup of the witch’s brew. What happened to you?” With her best beginner’s writing, our little one wrote, “I will die and I will be in heaven. I will like it there. I would love it because it is the best place to be because you are with your Heavenly Father.” This answer likely surprised her teacher; however, when our daughter brought the completed assignment home, we noted that she was given a star, the highest grade.

I had just settled into my comfortable chair to watch my favorite television news program when the doorbell rang. “I’ll see who it is,” my wife said.
“Who would be coming to visit us at this hour?” I asked myself. “It always happens. The program I enjoy most is always interrupted!”
“It’s the home teachers,” she said. “I forgot to tell you that Brother Higgins called this afternoon. He made an appointment to meet with us early this evening so that he could see us before he goes out of town tonight.”
As I arose from my chair, I already knew what Brother Higgins was going to say. He always said the same things—“How are you? How are things going? It has been a good day, hasn’t it? Is there anything I can do for you?”
Sure enough, that’s how he began. I kept thinking, “I’m missing the news report!”
But when Brother Higgins asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?” the thought entered my mind, “He can help. Give him a chance.”
“Yes, there is something you can do for us,” I said, “You know that our son, Mikhail, has just returned from a mission. He has been unsuccessfully searching for work and is very discouraged. I have been unable to help him. Do you know of any job openings?”
“Oh, that is a tough problem,” Brother Higgins responded. “I don’t know of any openings for work, but I’ll check to see what might be available.”
I really didn’t think Brother Higgins would have a solution to the problem. But I had forgotten that home teachers are entitled to receive inspiration to help the families to whom they are assigned. Whether or not Brother Higgins could help, it made me feel better to have shared our problem with our home teachers.
Two days later, Brother Higgins telephoned me. “Tell Mikhail to go down to the Read Company tire store and ask to speak with a Mr. Hogge,” he said. “He has a job opening.”
Mikhail was excited, as he had been searching for a job for a long time. But an hour later, when he returned, I could tell, by the way he walked in, that he had been unsuccessful.
“I can’t believe it!” he exclaimed, as he entered the house. “Mr. Hogge asked me, ‘Who sent you here? I don’t have any job openings. Even if I did, your request would be at the bottom of this pile of applications!’ I was so embarrassed—I was sorry that I had even gone to apply.”
I felt Mikhail’s disappointment and tried to encourage him. But I couldn’t help wondering why our home teacher had told us about a job opening when there wasn’t one.
The next day, when I answered the telephone, the voice on the other end said, “This is Mr. Hogge. Is Mikhail there?”
Mikhail came to the telephone, and Mr. Hogge said, “Come down to the store. I was impressed by your sincerity and willingness to work, and I can use you after all. I’ll need you this afternoon.”
When Mikhail arrived at the store, he found that he not only had a job, but he could also choose the hours he wished to work. He was able to arrange his work hours so that they did not interfere with his class schedule at college—another answer to sincere prayers.
As I thought about the sequence of events that led up to Mikhail’s new job, I suddenly realized that Brother Higgins must have known about Mr. Hogge’s job opening even before Mr. Hogge had known about it!
When Brother Higgins next visited our home, I told him what had happened. He simply replied that he had prayed that he would be able to help Mikhail find a job, and he had called us when he knew of one.
It was obvious to us that the Lord had known of our family’s needs and had used our home teachers as instruments in meeting those needs. They had prayed for guidance, and the Lord had answered their prayers.

In 2007, Daniel Kola was called as an Area Seventy. The next year, he travelled to Utah to attend general conference and was blessed to attend the temple an additional five times to perform initiatory, endowment, and sealing ordinances for his ancestors, including being sealed to his own parents. “When I received my endowment, there was a lot I didn’t understand,” Kola reflected. “But today, I understand, and my knowledge is much more profound.”

On the last night of a soldier’s service, the soldier and his friends would drink a lot of alcohol and have a rowdy party. I thought and prayed about what I should do when my last night came. When it did, I told the group of soldiers serving with me, “Let’s do something that has never been done before.” We dressed in our best suits and went to say a quiet good-bye to our army leaders. Our major couldn’t believe it. I felt that Heavenly Father had guided me to find an answer to my problem. Looking back, I can see that the greatest blessings in my life have come by following the counsel of prophets and keeping God’s commandments.

Brother Kelly reached into the box of questions our seminary class had written anonymously. “Can I know now who I’ll marry?” he read.
I tried to look bored as he answered my question.
“No,” he said. “At your age, you cannot know who you’ll marry.” Then he kindly explained that we might already be acquainted with our future spouse, but now wasn’t the time to find out. He encouraged us to develop friendships, not exclusive romantic relationships.
I’d read the same counsel in For the Strength of Youth: “Good friendships can and should be developed at every age. … When you begin dating, go in groups or on double dates. Avoid going on frequent dates with the same person” ([2001], 24–25). I wanted to obey. But I also wanted something more.
I wished I could feel the sense of belonging I thought having a boyfriend would provide, and I wanted my attraction to one of my guy friends to have a purpose. It was hard to care about him and have nowhere for those feelings to go.
I knew my secret question was a little unrealistic, but other serious questions remained: Would I ever find someone who loved me? What was the point of having these emotions now? And what was I supposed to do with them?
Besides being drawn to one of my guy friends, I also believed being his girlfriend would prove I was lovable. I should have taken to heart the evidence Heavenly Father had given me that He loved me and that I had nothing to fear.
My patriarchal blessing promised I would find someone to marry at “the appropriate time.” Later I found out that my dad had used the same words when I was a baby and he had asked Heavenly Father to bless me with a husband “at the appropriate time.”
Though Heavenly Father didn’t answer my prayers about whom I might marry, He assured me I would marry, and He even told me when: at the right time. I didn’t need a boyfriend to help me feel secure nearly as much as I needed to remember God’s promises and His love for me.
It was hard to always remember the eternal perspective because my worries threatened to crowd out other thoughts. Would the guy I liked ask me out? Should I ask him? Sometimes I wondered why Heavenly Father hadn’t created His children so that attraction wouldn’t be an issue until after high school!
Now I understand that my feelings had some divine purposes. Feeling attraction motivated me to form friendships. Whether I was socializing in groups or going on dates, getting to know guys taught me to communicate better and treat men respectfully. I learned what traits were uplifting and what kind of person I should marry someday.
Admiring guys also helped me remember to prepare for the temple. Even though high school isn’t the time to build serious romantic relationships, thinking about love at a young age is normal. Our spirits long to be with someone because marriage is a part of Heavenly Father’s plan. As I reflected on my feelings and imagined what an eternal relationship might be like, I was even more determined to qualify for temple blessings.
Strong feelings can be hard to cope with. All my instincts told me I’d be happier channeling my energy toward the guy I liked—thinking about him, talking to him, spending time with him. But whenever I made the effort to ponder the eternal picture, my stress melted away and I was happier. I knew I could find real peace by putting Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ first in my thoughts and actions. This meant studying the scriptures, attending church, finding ways to serve, working on Personal Progress, and following the instructions in my patriarchal blessing.
Nurturing my spirit made it easier to enjoy friendship and dating according to the standards outlined in For the Strength of Youth. Resisting the urge to pursue exclusive relationships wasn’t easy, but it blessed me. I gained spiritual strength by proving to myself I could make hard decisions, even when part of me felt like doing something else.
Although I was disappointed by Brother Kelly’s answer, he spoke the truth. Had I spent high school dating only one person, I would have missed out on meeting people who helped prepare me to recognize my husband when I met him years later. No wonder I couldn’t know the answer to my secret question. Some of my classmates married old friends, but I didn’t. At age 16, I was nine years away from meeting my future spouse!
What could dating only one person in high school have accomplished? Possibly fun times, but also distraction from pursuing other goals, a lack of peace for ignoring Church teachings, and heartbreak when the relationship ended.
In the years following high school, I dated a few men seriously until the Holy Ghost confirmed that “the appropriate time” and person had come into my life. I’m grateful I waited for the best time to pursue exclusive relationships and received all I’d hoped for: a sense of belonging in a marriage that could last for eternity, and a confirmation that Heavenly Father was happy with my decision.

I play basketball. One day, I messaged the coach that I wouldn’t be able to play in any Sunday games.
He responded, “What do you mean? If you want to go professional, you have to put the sport first.” I told him that if I wanted to go professional, I had to put God first, and He would help me.
My coach said, “I am going to do everything possible for the games to be on Saturdays.” And that’s the way it’s been.
It might not always work out that way. But I’m glad my coach knows that for me, the sport doesn’t come first—my Heavenly Father does.
When I do things right, I feel that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are proud of me. It’s a peace that no one can take from me, knowing that I’m trying and that They recognize my effort.
The sport doesn’t come first—my Heavenly Father does.

During World War II, while serving with the 31st Infantry Division in the Dutch East Indies, I was placed in command of a patrol charged with the responsibility of searching out and destroying enemy supply bases.
As we proceeded on one particular patrol behind enemy lines, a native dog fell in with our group; and try as we would, we couldn’t get that dog to leave. I became concerned about this. Later on, however, its alertness caused us to be suspicious to the point where we took extra precautions as we proceeded on to lower ground after coming to a fork in the trail. Therefore, when the enemy opened fire shortly thereafter, we were not caught completely by surprise. Four men were wounded in the initial burst of fire, but not a single man lost his life. We were able to evacuate the wounded and withdraw to the rear under heavy machine gun and rifle fire without losing a single man.
Sergeant Leslie E. Milam of Natchitoches, Louisiana, the only other Mormon in my company, was with me on this patrol. After we returned to the rear, he was contacted by Sergeant Dabbs, our platoon guide, who said that he was aware that Sergeant Milam and I had been meeting on Sundays, whenever conditions would permit, for short religious discussions. He indicated that he knew that our lives had been miraculously saved in this patrol, and he requested permission to meet with us in our next religious discussion. He did meet with us, and he was just as sincere as we were in expressing gratitude to our Father in heaven for his protection and watchful care.
Shortly after this ambush, Private Collins, who went through the ambush with us, sought me out one night after dark and said, “Lieutenant Bennett, I think we had some help from on high out there the other day.”
I replied, “Well, I don’t know just how you feel about it, Collins, or how the other boys feel; but as far as I’m concerned, I know we did.”
He then said, “And I know we did, Lieutenant Bennett, and there is something else I want to say. I’ve been a rough character in the past. I’ve done most of the things I shouldn’t have done, but it’s going to be different in the future. I’m a changed man.”
I have thought about this choice experience many times, for it provided me with a great opportunity to explain the gospel message to Private Collins under conditions where his heart and his mind were open.