Gospel Story Finder

Just four months after moving into this new ward, Dad fell and broke his hip while visiting a family member in St. George in southern Utah. This accident required surgery and an extended stay in a care facility 250 miles (400 km) from his new home. When we told his ministering brother about the incident, he immediately contacted the Primary president, who started a letter-writing and picture-coloring campaign with the Primary children and other ward members. They sent him mail and coloring pages almost every day. The abundance of attention led the workers at the St. George nursing home to ask if he was some sort of celebrity, as they had never had a patient receive so much mail. Since this was during the height of COVID, he couldn’t have visitors, so this daily written interaction was a gift of service beyond description.

In closing, let me share a special experience that Sister Ballard and I had in connection with the announcement of the new PBS television presentation American Prophet: The Story of Joseph Smith. We were assigned to meet with the Vermont PBS leaders and others in Sharon, Vermont, the birthplace of the Prophet Joseph Smith. Time allowed us to visit the homestead of Joseph Smith, Sr., and Lucy Mack Smith in Tunbridge. Researchers have now found the location of the humble cabin in which my mother’s great-grandfather Hyrum Smith was born. His brothers Alvin and Samuel and his sister Sophronia were also born in Tunbridge. Can you sense the profound feelings of humility and wonder that came into my heart as I stood at this special site? Two hundred years ago, on February 9, 1800, Hyrum came into this world, destined to become one of the most important and magnificent leaders of the restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ. From very humble beginnings came the leadership power of Joseph, Hyrum, and many others.

In contrast to that experience, on the ­seventh of this month, with several of the Brethren, I toured the magnificent new conference center, where 21,000 people will gather in April to attend general conference. From the humble beginnings in Vermont to the great conference center in Salt Lake City, tremendous progress has been made. We must never forget the price paid by the courageous, faithful leaders who had testimonies deeply rooted in the doctrine. They faithfully accepted the challenges of leadership. Our appreciation for their service is best shown by you and me in our willingness to prepare to do our part now and in the future.

Books and papers fell to the floor when Becky bumped into Sister Chapman in the hall. “Oh my,” Sister Chapman said as she picked up her books. Lauren quickly helped Becky gather the papers. “Thanks,” Sister Chapman said with a smile. The girls smiled back. Lauren liked her new Valiant teacher.
When they got to class, Meagan was there. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Sister Chapman told her. Then she turned to Lauren. “Since Meagan missed last week’s lesson,” she said, “can you retell the story of the good Samaritan?”
Lauren noticed that everyone was waiting for her to answer.
“Let me tell the story,” Becky begged. “We’ll be here all day if we wait for Lauren.”
Lauren looked down as Sister Chapman said, “Becky, I think you owe Lauren an apology.”
“Sorry,” Becky muttered.
Lauren felt better when Sister Chapman started to tell the story. Her voice soothed Lauren, and the story brought tears to her eyes. Some of her tears were for the poor man lying in the road; the rest were for herself. Why can’t I remember the scripture stories? she wondered.
“Today in opening exercises, we sang ‘Search, Ponder, and Pray,’” Sister Chapman continued. “Did you notice that we were singing about having a testimony of the scriptures? Think to yourselves: Do I have a testimony? Do I know the scriptures are true?”
Caught in the moment, Lauren nodded her head.
“Lauren, how could you have a testimony?” Becky scoffed. “You can’t even remember last week’s lesson! You have to know the scriptures to have a testimony.”
“Our testimonies are very personal, Becky,” Sister Chapman gently corrected her. “We can’t say someone else does or doesn’t have a testimony. But we can know if we have one personally.”
At the end of class, Sister Chapman handed out the next week’s scripture reading assignment and asked, “Is there anything else anyone wants to talk about?”
Meagan raised her hand. “I want to thank my Valiant Secret Pal—the cookies were great!”
“You, too?” asked Sister Chapman. “When I was sick this week, someone left cookies and a card on my doorstep. It was signed ‘Your Valiant Secret Pal.’ I wonder who it is …” Sister Chapman looked around the room. “Well,” she added, “whoever it is understood last week’s lesson. Jesus Christ taught us to help the sick. Someone was really listening and put into action what he or she had learned. I’d say we have a good Samaritan right here in our Valiant class.”
That night for scripture study, Lauren’s dad read from the New Testament. Excitedly Lauren exclaimed, “We talked about this story in Primary!”
“Super!” Dad said. “Why don’t you share it with us?”
Lauren felt the same uneasiness she’d felt that morning. She thought hard and then shook her head, “I can’t.” Her parents looked at each other, and then Dad continued to read about the good Samaritan.
Later, when Mom sat on the edge of Lauren’s bed to kiss her good night, she found Lauren crying. “What’s wrong?” Mom asked.
“Why can’t I remember that story? Sometimes I feel so dumb.” Lauren told her what had happened in Primary. “Becky’s right,” Lauren said, “I don’t know the scriptures.”
Lauren’s mom hugged her. “Lauren, you are not dumb. You’re a bright young girl. You understand what the stories are about, but you learn them a bit differently than some people, and remembering the details takes you a little longer—that’s all.”
The teachers in Lauren’s class at school always told her the same thing. She had heard it over and over, but it still didn’t help.
The next Sunday, Sister Chapman didn’t ask Lauren to answer any questions, and Lauren didn’t raise her hand. Becky answered almost every question—correctly. I wish I could be like Becky, Lauren thought.
As class was dismissed, all the girls left in a hurry except Lauren, who stayed and helped Sister Chapman erase the chalkboard and put away the chairs. “Thank you, Lauren,” her teacher said. “I can always count on you to help.”
“I liked the lesson,” Lauren replied. “You are a good teacher.” Lauren noticed a bright smile on Sister Chapman’s face.
Later that week, Lauren opened the front door and found a letter and a small package on the porch. They were from Sister Chapman. Lauren quickly opened the letter and read it:
“Dear Lauren,
“I want to tell you how much I enjoy having you in class. I’ve noticed that you feel uncomfortable answering questions, so I didn’t call on you last Sunday. Lauren, you do know the scripture stories. I’ve seen you live them.
“I have a feeling you were Meagan’s—and my—Valiant Secret Pal. You helped the sick. Do you remember helping Becky pick up my papers? You helped someone in need. Every time you thank me for a nice lesson, you help me become a better teacher.
“Lauren, you understand more about the good Samaritan than you think. For some people it’s easy to remember the scriptures word for word, and that is a wonderful gift. But the hardest part is to live the principles the scriptures teach.
“Thanks for being a good Samaritan in our class. Enjoy the gift. It reminds me of you.
“With love,“Sister Chapman”
Lauren unfolded the tissue paper and found a bookmark that read, “The Good Samaritan.” Lauren read the words over and over—they sounded good to her. Walking back inside the house, she sang, “‘I’ll know the scriptures are true’” (Children’s Songbook, 109).

My second example is from a sacrament meeting speaker who has given me permission to share a portion of his talk. This brother—let’s call him Tom—mentioned there was a time when he had a question about something he read in the Church’s history that didn’t align with his sense of logic. For a long time, his prayers felt empty and reading the scriptures felt dark. In fact, everything about the Church felt dark. However, he continued to read the scriptures and remained dutiful in his priesthood responsibilities, especially home teaching. He tried to forget about the question, tried to talk himself out of needing to know the answer, but it kept rising to the surface. As he continued to serve, and live as he knew he should, the question moved to the back of his mind and he slowly noticed the hand of the Lord in his life. He began to feel the Spirit again, and the answer to the question came—15 years later when he least expected it. Tom shared the following about his quest to receive personal revelation regarding the question: “I’m grateful I didn’t receive an answer quickly, because it helped me to develop faith and trust in the Lord, and it caused me to stretch.”

The Rainock home stands on an old Civil War battlefield in Mechanicsville, Virginia. But the spirit in their home and their relationships with each other are far from the chaos and anger of such a time. Peace reigns here, where the five teenagers in the family are best friends. When it comes to living and sharing the gospel, they make a great team.
No matter where they go, the Rainocks usually go together. When Gibbs, 18, painted a mural for the local elementary school as part of his Eagle Scout project, the whole family was there to support him. His brother and sisters, Lenore, Orin, Lorel, and Cora all gave a helping hand.
One day at school a bomb threat was issued, forcing students to evacuate the building. When 19-year-old Cora went outside, the first thing she did was look for her sister Lenore, 16. “That day was really cool,” Cora says, “because I got to talk to Lenore. We just walked around until we had to go inside. It’s a wonderful feeling, being like that with your sister.”
Another day Lorel, 12, accompanied Lenore and Cora on an all-day shopping trip. “We went to a basketball game, then hung out at the mall and shopped for Cora’s prom dress,” Lorel beams. “It was so much fun.”
Sharing the gospel
But for the Rainocks, being together means more than just “hanging out.” It means sharing and living the gospel together.
“Without the gospel, we wouldn’t have family home evenings,” Lenore says. “Without the gospel we wouldn’t learn about how important families are. We wouldn’t read the scriptures every morning.”
There’s no doubt that the Rainocks know how to make a difference in other people’s lives. “My friends are always asking about Mormons,” 14-year-old Orin says. So he tells them all he knows about the Church, hoping that someone will want to know more.
This is how their cousin, Mark Mailhot, learned about the gospel. That, and keeping Lenore, Cora, Gibbs, and Orin up until late at night discussing religion. When he asked to be baptized, it was one of the most memorable days in Gibbs’s life. With all the vigor of a soon-to-be missionary, Gibbs says, “I was able to baptize him.”

I remember a woman who constantly nagged her husband (an inactive elder) about not paying his tithing, saying again and again, “When you don’t pay your tithing, you deny me and the children the blessings that are associated with this commandment … I want those blessings, even if you don’t.” She became so irate and her marriage became so disturbed over this issue that she went to the bishop trying to get his aid in forcing her husband to pay tithing. The bishop’s response was, “Overall your husband is basically a good and righteous man. If you sustain him in righteousness, even in his judgment not to pay tithing at this time, the Lord will sustain you, and you will be obeying God’s commandments and will not miss out on any of the blessings.” When the husband later learned of this bishop’s counsel, he was so deeply affected and impressed that his Church activity increased and the marital relationship was much improved.

Consider this tender example. It was fast Sunday as Vance and I knocked on the door of a small, humble home. We and other deacons in the quorum had come to expect the words “Please come in,” yelled warmly in a thick German accent loud enough to hear through the door. Sister Muellar was one of several immigrant widows in the ward. She couldn’t answer the door very easily, as she was legally blind. As we stepped inside the dimly lit home, she greeted us with kind questions: What are your names? How are you doing? Do you love the Lord? We answered and shared that we came to receive her fast offering. Even at our young age, her meager circumstances were readily apparent, and her faith-filled response was profoundly touching: “I placed a dime on the counter earlier this morning. I am so grateful to offer my fast offering. Would you be kind enough to place it in the envelope and fill out my fast-offering receipt?” Her love of the Lord lifted our faith each time we left her home.

I emphasize the word shared. My introduction to the board of trustees came as I left the faculty at Stanford to be the president of Ricks College. I attended my first board meeting soon thereafter. My work at Stanford and elsewhere had exposed me to the ways boards of directors and groups of people in business made decisions. But nothing I had seen prepared me for what I saw in that meeting.

President Harold B. Lee, also one of the authors of our foundation documents, was serving as chair. I have now forgotten the issue, but the discussion was lively. I had never seen such frankness without rancor before, but neither had I seen people listen to each other as carefully. In a few minutes, what had seemed to me widely divergent views began to move—I thought so rapidly as to be miraculous—toward a consensus. Just as I began to think I had seen an example of joint revelation beyond what I thought possible among strong leaders, I was surprised by a statement from the chair, President Lee. He said something like this: “I sense that there is someone here still not settled on this matter. I suggest that we hold it for further thought. We can discuss it again in a later meeting.” President Lee had seen or felt, I don’t know which, that there was not yet complete unity. And so an important matter was held off.

That story is not about one day but represents a pattern. Not only does the board of trustees give consistent direction, based on a deep understanding of universities as they have been and of this one as it is, but it gives direction out of unity far beyond a product of counting votes and far above a process of coalition bargaining.

“It was a stake play, but it was a missionary play as well,” said Simon Noble, 17, of the Holywood Road Ward, explaining why youth in the Belfast Northern Ireland Stake were so excited to be involved in their stake production. “It was all about the plan of salvation, and we invited non-LDS friends to come and enjoy a night of theatre and learn about what we believe,” he said.
“My own testimony was strengthened, too,” said Paul Curran, 15, of the Bangor Ward. “We kept rehearsing the lines, and as we did, I kept thinking about how much it means to know the truth.”
Ruby May Silcock, 18, also of the Bangor Ward, said the play helped her learn about teamwork. “We all had to cooperate and work together,” she said. “It took a lot of people skills.”
Saints and friends alike enjoyed the music, the acting, the jokes, and the message.

Illustration by Stephen Sitton
Touchdown! The phrase seemed so familiar to me. I would hear it in my thoughts, dreams, and, most important, on the football field. I was what you would call a football fanatic. Nearly every inch of my wall donned a poster of something football-related. If you saw me at the park with my friends, I would be playing football. As I got bigger and stronger, so did my love for the game.
When I entered high school, my football career started to consume me. Mutual? Nah. I was lifting weights with my football buddies. Youth conference? A little bit. But I missed half of what many called a life-changing experience because I was set on training with the team. Family? We lived in the same house, but I felt that my team was my family.
Because of these choices, I started to stray. I would go through the motions to make my mom happy, but when I sat in sacrament meeting taking the holy emblems of our Savior’s atoning sacrifice, my mind just wasn’t in the right place. I had become a glory-obsessed athlete. My dream was to play in the big game under the Friday night lights.
During the summer, we had rigorous workouts—running in the 110-degree heat (43º C), lifting weights for hours, running up and down the bleachers, and overall just exhausting ourselves. Then my back began to hurt. Eventually the pain I brushed aside became something that required medical attention. I took medications, but they didn’t help, so it was suggested that I get an MRI scan. One week later I received a call from my doctor. I was hurt worse than I had thought. It was apparent that my football career was over, and I did nothing but mourn my loss.
I joined the swim team to stay in shape. I was the biggest person out there, at 6?3? (191 cm) and 215 pounds (98 kg). I was also by far the slowest swimmer. It was a humbling experience. While on the team, I had fun and met new people, but I still felt empty. I felt as if there were a part of my heart that would never be filled again. I talked with many people and heard their experiences, but they were all just stories to me. I was lost in the thoughts of my broken heart.
I attended seminary, but I would end up just going and sitting in class, sending text messages to my friends, complaining about everything from not playing football to being hungry. Then one day the seminary teacher told us to take out our hymnbooks for an activity. I flipped through the pages and came across “How Firm a Foundation” (Hymns, no. 85). I read through the fifth verse, which says:
When through fiery trials thy pathway shall lie,
My grace, all sufficient, shall be thy supply.
The flame shall not hurt thee; I only design …
Thy dross to consume and thy gold to refine.
As I read this, I realized that God had allowed these trials to come in order to strengthen me. I went home and prayed and realized that I had been so foolish to forget God and forget how blessed I am, even without football. I had wonderful friends, a wonderful family, and, most important, faith in my Heavenly Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.
It took me a long time to realize that with my faith fully set on God, putting Him before everything, I can never lose. After these experiences, I could walk out of sacrament meeting, cleansed through the sacrament and with my sights set on a mission, and look back at the end of my football career and ask myself, “Is this a loss or a win?” Sounds like an eternal victory to me.

One Sunday in the summer of 2002, I woke up thinking of my mother, who had recently passed away. I was visiting my old home ward in Pacific Palisades, California, USA, where my mom had worshipped for almost 50 years.
I knelt in prayer to tell the Lord how much I missed her and to ask for a spiritual experience that day.
That afternoon I planned to attend the rededication broadcast of the Nauvoo Illinois Temple at the stake building in Santa Monica, California. Unfortunately, I arrived too late to be admitted to the session. I returned to my car and headed back onto the freeway.
As I drove, I heard a voice say, “Randi, go check on Mary!” Mary is a dear friend of our family and a devout member of another faith. She and her daughter Natasha lived next door to my Aunt Ruby for more than 25 years. Because they had no family nearby, they became part of ours. After my aunt passed away in 1984, my mother often dropped by to visit Mary, always bringing a small gift or something she had baked.
At first I ignored the prompting. I couldn’t just drop in unannounced, and I didn’t have my cell phone to call her. Suddenly the voice came again, louder this time: “Randi, go check on Mary!” This time I heeded the counsel, although I barely had enough time to make my exit off the freeway.
When I arrived at Mary’s, she greeted me but looked ill. I could tell she had been crying. I asked her what was wrong. She responded that she had been quite sick and in pain from a neck injury. Also, she was extremely low on food. She said she had been too ill to walk to the pharmacy or the market.
When I asked her why she hadn’t called someone in our family, she said, “I prayed and asked Heavenly Father to send someone to help me.”
I told her that Heavenly Father had heard her prayers and sent me. We hugged, and then she told me something I’ll never forget. She said, “When you arrived on my doorstep, I saw your mother’s face, not yours.”
I immediately felt my mother’s sweet spirit near me, and I felt prompted to serve just as my mother would serve. Her life, after all, was filled with serving others.
I hope that I never forget the importance of heeding the voice of the Spirit and the example my mother set for me of serving others.

Jetta Pearl Stewart pulled off her bonnet and plopped down on the porch next to Father. “What’s a pearl?” she asked him.
Eight-year-old Jetta knew what a pearl was, but she loved hearing Father’s answer. Like always, Father explained how pearls grow in oysters, layer upon layer, until they become a bright, shiny jewel.
“Pearls shine like you, my little Jetta Pearl,” he said, smiling. Jetta smiled back. She liked being his Pearl.
At dinner that night, Father told Jetta he had an important question for her.
“Ever since you were little, you have had a special way with music,” Father said. “Would you like to learn the piano?”
Jetta’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes!”
“It would mean traveling far away and staying with your teacher for a while,” Mother said. “No one here in Milburn can teach you.”
Jetta’s smile faded. She had never been away from her family for more than a day. And to be far away …
“But it’s important for us to develop our talents, even when it’s difficult,” Father said.
Mother nodded. “You must work very hard,” she said.
Jetta loved music. And she had always wanted to play the piano. Slowly, a smile crept onto her face. “I’m going to play the piano!”
But the next morning, as Jetta watched Father hitch the horses to the wagon, she didn’t feel excited at all. Today she was just scared. She hadn’t expected to be leaving home so soon.
Jetta slowly climbed up into the wagon next to Father.
“You ready, Jetta Pearl?” he said.
She didn’t feel ready, but Jetta nodded. The wagon lurched forward.
After a while, Father glanced over at her. “Do you know how proud your mother and I are of you?”
Jetta nodded. “But what if you need my help at home?”
Father smiled. “We’ll sure miss you, but this is a way only you can help. You’ll be serving Heavenly Father by developing gifts He gave you.”
She hadn’t thought about it like that. Could her musical talent really be a gift from Heavenly Father?
Father continued. “It will take time, but little by little you’ll get better at playing piano. And then you’ll be able to serve lots of people.”
Jetta felt her fear start to fade. She was going to learn the piano and serve Heavenly Father. It would be scary, but she knew that He would help her.
Father winked. “Layer by layer, my little Pearl is getting bright and shiny.”
Just like Father had said, little by little Jetta learned to play the piano. She even learned how to play the organ.
After a few months, Jetta returned home. That Sunday she became Milburn’s very first organist! Her heart raced as she sat at the huge organ the community had worked to buy for her to play. It was so beautiful that Jetta was almost afraid to touch it. She had to sit on a book to reach the keys.
She took a deep breath and started to play. The notes soared across the room, full and beautiful.
Jetta sneaked a peek at the congregation. People were smiling as they sang. Jetta smiled too. Her playing was far from perfect, but she was using her talents to serve.
She remembered Father’s words: “Pearls shine like you, Jetta Pearl.”
Little by little, layer by layer, Heavenly Father was making her into a true pearl.

This, however, is just half of the story. There was another family who gave their all to the branch, not through financial wealth but through time and teaching. The head of this household was a man in his seventies. He was the faithful shepherd of a small flock of Saints, roughly fifty women, men, teens, and children.

This man was born during World War I. He graduated from college with a university degree, a rare thing in those days. He and his wife raised three children while he operated an insurance agency.

When he retired, the two of them moved to a small town in the mountains. There they found a similarly small ward of the Church with members often coming and going. For the next five years, this faithful bishop was a dedicated spiritual leader, while also acting as the ward’s chief cook and bottle washer. It was the equivalent of a full-time job.

When he was released, the ward became a branch again, likely a disappointment after all that work. But he lived past the 100-year mark, providing selfless service. Though he and his beloved wife enjoyed 60 years of marriage, for the last fifteen of those years, he was a widower, outliving not only her but also their children.

Steve and Anita Canfield are representative of Latter-day Saints throughout the world who have experienced for themselves the transformative blessings of giving to the Lord. As welfare and self-reliance missionaries, the Canfields were asked to provide aid at refugee camps and immigrant centers across Europe. In her professional life, Sister Canfield had been a world-class interior designer, contracted by wealthy clients to beautify their luxury homes. Suddenly she found herself thrust into a world that was the complete opposite, as she served among people who had lost nearly everything in terms of earthly possessions. In her words, she exchanged “marble walkways for dirt floors,” and in doing so she found an immeasurable degree of fulfillment, as she and her husband began to befriend—and soon to love and embrace—those who needed their care.
The Canfields observed, “We did not feel as though we had ‘given up’ anything to serve the Lord. Our desire was simply to ‘give to’ Him our time and energies to bless His children in whatever way He saw fit to use us. As we worked alongside our brothers and sisters, any outward appearances—any differences in backgrounds or belongings—dissolved for us, and we simply saw one another’s hearts. There is no degree of career success or material gains that could have equaled the way that these experiences, serving among the humblest of God’s children, enriched us.”

“Hurry, Cathy,” Anne called over her shoulder to her sister as they ran along the road.
“I am hurrying!” Cathy yelled back, barely three steps behind her. Laughing, they turned into the parking lot of Mr. Parkins’s Plant Place. Breathing hard, they burst through the front door into the rich smell of potting soil and damp, growing things.
“Well, hello, girls.” Mr. Parkins smiled as he looked up. “Did you come to work?”
“Yes, please,” Anne said. “Today and tomorrow too, if you need us. We want to earn money to buy a present for Mum.”
In the early spring Mr. Parkins often paid the neighborhood children to help transplant seedlings. “Where is your cousin Emmy today?” he asked.
“She went to help Granny,” Cathy said.
“Well, come along.” Mr. Parkins led them into one of the long, low greenhouses. “We’re working on the petunias right now, and I need all the help I can get.”
In the greenhouse, long tables were covered with young petunia plants. Allen, Tom, and Lance were already working and laughing loudly.
Mr. Parkins stayed long enough to make sure the girls knew what to do and to check on the boys’ work. “I’m sure glad the five of you could come,” he said as he left.
The potting soil was crumbly and moist on Anne’s fingers as she carefully separated the plants. Cathy worked beside her, filling each of the small containers with soil and planting the seedlings. For a while no one said anything.
Then Lance elbowed Allen and whispered something in his ear. Allen laughed loudly, then whispered in Tom’s ear. Tom snorted. Then Lance stopped whispering and started saying nasty things out loud.
Anne’s fingers started to shake, and she felt slightly sick. “I wish Emmy was here,” she whispered to Cathy.
Cathy nodded. “So do I.” Emmy would know what to do. She was as brave as Nephi.
But Anne wasn’t Emmy, and she didn’t know what to do. She was afraid if she asked the boys to stop, they would just get worse. Now they were using words Anne knew were not right.
She looked over at Cathy. Cathy’s lips were pressed tightly together, and she was about to cry.
“Shall we leave?” Anne whispered.
“But I want to buy something nice for Mum,” Cathy said quietly.
“Me too,” Anne said. “Besides, Mr. Parkins said he needs all the help he can get.”
Cathy nodded and blinked as two tears slid down her cheeks. She hid her eyes so Lance, Allen, and Tom wouldn’t know she was crying.
Anne moved closer to her. She was angry now. If only Emmy was here! she thought. If only I knew what to do!
Suddenly she had an idea. Softly she started humming her favorite hymn. When Cathy heard the first few notes, she looked up at Anne in surprise. Then she smiled. By the end of the hymn, they were humming softly together.
The boys were still making ugly jokes, but Anne didn’t feel angry anymore. She and Cathy hummed “I Am a Child of God” a little louder, and by the end of that song, Lance was quieter. Anne, feeling braver, gave him a big smile as she started singing a Primary song. Cathy joined in, and their voices echoed sweetly through the greenhouse, while the boys gradually became silent.
Anne and Cathy were still singing Primary songs when Mr. Parkins poked his head in an hour later. “Sounds good, girls.” He came over to the long table. “Your work is good, too. But it’s almost dark—you’d better get home. I’m glad you’ll be coming back tomorrow—I can always use good, cheerful help.”
Rubbing the soil off their fingers, the children followed Mr. Parkins out of the greenhouse and into the early evening light. Lance, Allen, and Tom scooted past Anne and Cathy.
“Babies,” Lance hissed as he ran past. Anne just smiled at him again.
The air was cooler now, but the girls didn’t feel cold.
“I feel warm and happy,” Cathy said, looking up at the pink sky.
“Me, too,” Anne said. “Race you home!”

“A friend in high school, Bernard Vergano, asked about my beliefs,” Christine relates. Bernard was apparently impressed with Christine’s standards. “When our other friends decided to watch an obscene movie,” Bernard recalls, “she immediately separated from them, and that made me find out more about her.”

Bernard’s best friend, Richard Becerro, also noticed that Christine always carried and read some religious books. “I was curious that someone so young as her knew a lot of Bible verses,” says Richard, “and that she would even quote them to us when we got together after classes.” Bernard and Richard then found out that Christine was an active member of the Church.

One day Bernard asked Christine if it was okay for a Mormon to go out with someone who is not LDS. “Sure, it’s okay,” Christine replied, “but it’s better if the person is a Latter-day Saint.” A few days later, Bernard was sitting with Richard on a school stairway when Christine happened to pass by. Still mystified about Christine’s beliefs, Bernard asked her about the unusual classes she attended after school. Christine invited both of them to attend those unusual classes—seminary.

They didn’t think twice about attending. Soon the two friends became super-active seminary students, and that started a remarkable chain of conversions. Christine referred Bernard and Richard to the missionaries, and both agreed to be baptized. However, it wasn’t an easy decision.

“A Catholic school was offering us a college scholarship as long as we didn’t change our religion,” says Richard. And not only that, Bernard’s parents were reluctant to give their consent.

But so great was their desire to join the Church that they gave up the scholarships. And when she saw the positive changes in her son, Bernard’s mother gave her consent. The two friends were baptized, and with encouragement from Christine and other ward youth, they set good examples to everybody. And look what happened.

Bernard’s younger brother, Roger, saw the changes in his older brother, and he agreed to be visited by the missionaries. He was eventually baptized. Then, “my classmate, Mario Baniaga, got interested in the Church also,” Roger relates. Mario was baptized, and that, in turn, aroused the curiosity of Vicky, Mario’s sister. She was baptized too.

In between basketball games, Bernard introduced the gospel to another friend, Larry Rodelas. “I was wondering what got him to change his beliefs,” says Larry, who also agreed to listen to the missionaries. Soon Larry, his mother, Linda, and sister Eunice all joined the Church. But Bernard did not stop there—his other best friend and basketball chum Richard Virrey also joined the Church.

Richard Becerro, on the other hand, was such a good example to his family that his mother, Carmelita, and sisters Arlene, Irene, Crismilita, and Grace were all converted. “I became happier when I joined the Church,” Irene adds, “and I wanted my best friend to feel that kind of happiness, too.” That best friend, Flor Antido, was baptized, along with Naty Cruz, a friend of Richard’s mother whom she referred. And although Richard’s father did not become a Latter-day Saint, his good friend George Alegado did.

Doing things together has helped make this amazing link longer. As stake missionaries, Bernard and Richard visited with Brother and Sister Bangkong, a less-active couple. “We did a lot of fellowshipping with them,” says Bernard, “and we never stopped inviting them back to Church,” adds Richard. The couple came back to the Church and had their children Isaiah, Althea, and Desiree baptized.

The link also created new twists. Two of Christine’s cousins, Sharon and Shailani Realigue, noticed the special kind of friendship between their cousin and her two friends. Christine introduced the Church to them, they were baptized, and the two cousins started to help reactivate less-active young women. They visited with Margie Paragoso, and that led the way for the baptism of Margie’s mother, sister-in-law, and cousin. “I really think this wouldn’t be possible were it not for my cousin’s example,” Sharon says.

Many of these converts hold callings where they serve faithfully. Some are working with the youth also; Roger Vergano and Richard Virrey serve in the Young Men presidency, while Irene Becerro serves in the Young Women presidency. Many of them are also referring other friends and relatives to the missionaries.

The chain’s links are still expanding, this time in an even more interesting way. Bernard and Richard are now serving missions and in fact entered the mission field on the same month and are serving in the Philippines Cagayan de Oro and Philippines Davao Missions.

“When I share how it is to feel the Spirit to a family we’re now teaching,” shares Elder Vergano, “I can’t help but think of how I felt when Christine introduced the missionaries to us.” And, says Elder Becerro, “I always relate to our investigators how our family became closer after we joined the Church, because I know it can help them make the right decision.”

Right now Christine is serving in the ward Young Women presidency, and she continues to inspire other youth in setting good examples. “Before he died,” Christine recalls of her father, who served as a stake patriarch, “my dad would always encourage us to live the gospel in such a way that we could be a light to others.”

All of the Siton siblings are trying to do just that, with Christine leading the way. Looking at all the people who were baptized, she simply smiles. “Nothing can compare with the happiness I feel in knowing that I have become a part of somebody else’s life for good,” she says, “and I know that it all starts with living the gospel.”

Ellie walked into the room she shared with her sister, plopped down on the lower bunk, and started sketching on her notepad. She was in the middle of drawing a majestic mountain scene when Addie walked in. “Get off my bed!” Addie said.
Ellie looked up, startled. “Fine!” She jumped off the bed and stormed out of the room. “I wish I had my own room!”
She headed to the bathroom to finish getting ready for school. “What’s going on?” Mom asked.
“Oh, Addie is just mad because I was sitting on her bed,” Ellie said, handing Mom a hairbrush. “It’s so hard sharing a room with her.”
“I know. I used to feel that way with my sister,” Mom said as she started brushing Ellie’s hair. “Addie seems to be feeling a little grumpy lately.”
“I know! I don’t get it!”
“Hmm,” Mom said. “What do you think we can do to help her feel better?”
Ellie thought for a minute while Mom finished putting rubber bands in her hair. Then she smiled. “I have an idea!”
She ran back to her room and opened her desk drawer. There they were—two tiny turtle charms made of glass. Ellie remembered the story Grandma told her when she gave them to her.
Once there were two turtles. One turtle had somehow gotten flipped over. Try as it might, it couldn’t flip itself back over. The other turtle noticed that something was wrong. Using its nose, it flipped the first turtle over so it could stand on its feet again.
Ellie loved that story. She ran to find her sewing kit and pulled out enough string to make two necklaces. She strung one turtle on each strand and knotted the ends. She put one necklace over her head. She put the other one in a tiny box and ran to find her sister.
“Addie!” Ellie said. “I have something for you!”
“What is it?” Addie asked.
“Here. Open it!”
Addie lifted the lid and carefully pulled the turtle necklace out of the box. She looked at her sister. “Thank you, Ellie!”
“You’re welcome,” Ellie said. “Remember the story about the turtles?” Ellie helped Addie put on the necklace. Addie nodded. “Well, I always want to help you get on your feet again whenever you are sad or mad,” Ellie said. “Oh, and I really do like sharing a room with you. I’m sorry about what I said.”
Addie gave her sister a giant hug. “I love you, Ellie. You can sit on my bed any time you want!”
The girls ran to get their backpacks for school. As Ellie climbed into the car next to her sister, she felt warm inside. Sometimes having a sister could be hard. But most of the time it was just plain wonderful.

An eight-year-old girl, reared in a good home with parents who did not believe in God, on her own initiative learned the Lord’s Prayer and recited that prayer privately every day. Eventually she added her own words and finally began offering her personal prayers to her Heavenly Father. She knew He lived, even though her parents did not. A few days ago I had the honor of officiating at her marriage and sealing in the temple. Her mother was with her—the result of her daughter’s example.

One day when John’s shoes were delivered from the shoemaker, Anna found a Latter-day Saint missionary tract tucked inside each shoe. The tracts sparked her curiosity, and when another pair of shoes needed repairing, she took them to the shoemaker herself to find out the meaning of the tracts. After finishing her business with the shoemaker’s wife, Anna was told that the shoemaker would explain what the tracts meant.
“You may be surprised to hear me say that I can give you something of more value than soles for your child’s shoes,” (John A. Widtsoe, In the Gospel Net, page 54) the shoemaker boldly declared to Anna.
She was perplexed and told the man that he spoke in riddles. But he pleaded with her to listen and said that he could teach her about the Lord’s true plan of salvation for His children.
Anna couldn’t forget her conversation with the humble, courageous shoemaker. And as other tracts came from the shoemaker, she struggled mightily, for she knew her Bible well. She worried about the new concepts and certain points of doctrine. But after attending meetings with the missionaries and other Saints over the next two years, she accepted the gospel and was baptized.

In 1995, with our two very small children, we set out on a great adventure when my husband accepted a position at the prestigious United States Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland. Little did we know at that time that our lives would be significantly shaped, molded and impacted by this CHOICE and that we would serve and work there for 25 years.

That choice to move came after the extension of a job opportunity, through the Lord, and the reassuring feelings from the Holy Ghost that we were supposed to accept that opportunity. As a young patriarch, my husband had adopted a scripture which became our family motto:
3 Nephi 13:33 “But seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you”. [9]
For over 30 years we have tried to live by that promise. Our children can often be heard saying, “Put the Lord first, and everything will fall into place”: our family’s interpretation of 3 Nephi 13:33.

As a result of following that motto, we have had wonderful opportunities to grow and serve. My husband has received many awards and accolades for his professional success, but his most cherished titles and responsibilities are that of being a disciple of Jesus Christ, a husband, a father, a son, and a brother who puts the Lord first.

Ken has served in many callings in the Church with his last one being the Annapolis Maryland Stake President. It was an amazing miracle to watch him go from performing the duties of head coach of the Navy Football team to presiding as our stake president.

When you put the Lord first, everything else falls into place. When you begin with the end in mind, your choices become the right ones. When you “think celestial,” you stick to your standards, decision after decision, year after year, and increase your spiritual safety so you can reach your goal.