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During a Stake Women’s Conference I found myself overwhelmed in many ways. I came feeling so out of place, ashamed, and yet desperately seeking forgiveness and peace. I sat alone on a pew as the opening hymn began.

Several years ago, I was planning on leaving the continent for at least several years, so my siblings and I decided to have a reunion. Since we are spread across multiple states, provinces, and countries, we thought Las Vegas to be a fun place to gather. While there, between the fun and food, we thought that one of the best things we could do together was attend the temple. Since we had just flown in for the weekend, we all rented our temple clothes, and proceeded to an or

A few months before my first husband passed away from cancer, his doctor called and told me I needed to come right away—he wasn’t doing well and they were very concerned. We were still newlyweds in our mid-20s. He was treated and hospitalized 250 miles away, and I had to stay home with our baby to work, which meant I could only visit him on the weekends.

I love the variety of windows in temples. Having taken a stained glass class, I appreciate the intricate effort needed for these architectural additions, as colored glass is selected, shaped, and soldered together. My quarter-century of temple worship is like a stained glass window—various facets make a beautiful picture through a delicate, time-intensive process that enhances my life.

In April of 1937, my grandmother was sitting in a restaurant with her husband when he suddenly collapsed. Ralph was 25 years old when he died of unknown causes; they had been married just three years. In that same week, the Hindenburg crashed not too far from my grandmother’s Philadelphia home; Fascism was gaining power in Europe, and politics at home were contentious.

My first experience inside the temple was sealed to my family at six years old. My father had been recently baptized, and my family was excited to be sealed in the temple. I remember feeling the Spirit and recognizing the importance of being inside the temple walls. It was a special day for my family, and the Spirit left an impression on my heart of a feeling of home and a desire to return. Throughout the rest of my childhood and my teenage years, I eagerly look forward to th

In 2014, I ventured into the world of family history and quickly became passionate about seeking out my ancestors and performing their temple ordinances. Attending the temple became increasingly meaningful as I spent time working on behalf of my own family, people I had come to know and love through the process of researching their lives and families.

Megan Spurlock was raised in the Church in Utah, but considers herself a convert because she did not commit to the Gospel and the Church until she was an adult.

Creation has turned into being one of the most important aspects of my life. Which, frankly, is interesting as it took quite a detour.

It was June of 2012, and scripture study hadn’t been a priority of mine for many, many months, sad to say. An upcoming cruise industry conference in New York City, to be followed by visits to family and friends meant that I’d be away from my home and family in Nova Scotia for a little while. Pre-travel anxiety combined with some guilt moved me to try to feel the Spirit through one of favourite books, Jesus and the World of the New Testament by Huntsman, Holzapfel, and Wayme

Alyson Deussen is the mother of a gay son, Stockton, who came out at age 13 and died by suicide in 2016 at age 17. Alyson serves her community by supporting LGBT teens and young adults coming out, who may be estranged from their family, as well as focusing on suicide prevention. She and her husband created a scholarship fund to memorialize their son and support LGBT young adults in their educations. They are also the founders of Peculiar, a nonprofit organization focused on e

Last year when we were contemplating uprooting our family from Texas and moving back to Utah, I was seeking an answer from the Lord. Our lives were good in Houston. My husband and I had excellent jobs, a home and neighborhood we loved, and many friends who had become like family. All three of our kids had all been born in Texas, and that was all they had ever known. The thought of leaving such familiarity and goodness was unnerving and scary, but we had always had the hope of

I had been pondering about joy for a couple of weeks when it greeted me unexpectedly in a crowded hallway one morning. It quickened me with wonder, a sense of flying on the wings of grace while people hurried past. In the hours that followed, I found myself rising to the vibration of the joyful energy within me, ready to shed unhelpful habits and embrace a higher way.

Following a spiritual prompting that came from the clear blue sky, Emily Farmer walked into a senior care facility in her neighborhood to play the piano. She became instant friends with one of the residents, a 99-year-old man called Mac, and discovered he played the harmonica. They played music together for the residents and were invited to events, and eventually recorded some songs for an album. Emily and Mac also supported each other through personal health challenges until

When I was twenty-one, the day before I entered the MTC, I drove out to Manti, Utah with my parents. I had wanted to attend the temple again with them before I left, and we all decided that the Manti temple would make for a memorable trip, not the least because it was the place where my parents had been sealed twenty-five years earlier.