Gospel Story Finder

More than 125 years later, a Valiant B class from the Salt Lake Canyon First Ward Rim visited Joseph Daynes’s great-grandson, Skip Daynes, to learn more about his famous ancestor. The class was studying about valiant people of the past and learning how to be valiant themselves.
After talking with Skip Daynes, the class walked to the Tabernacle on Temple Square. They were anxious to see the big pipe organ up close. Robert Cundick, one of the present-day Tabernacle organists, showed it to the young visitors. They found out that now there is a big electric fan to blow air into the pipes instead of men running on a treadmill.
Brother Cundick showed them how some bass notes were so low that their vibrations were felt rather than heard. The highest notes were so soft and high that their ears could barely hear them. He also showed them how to make the notes louder by pressing a pedal on the organ instead of pressing the keys more firmly with his fingers as on the piano.
After playing a hymn for the class on the big organ, Brother Cundick gave them a hint about becoming a valiant person. “Anything you want to do really well you have to work hard at,” he said. “You can’t just try it one afternoon. You have to do it every day for years.”

Elder Ojediran and Elder Morrison of the Seventy, the first and second counselors in the Africa West Area Presidency, visited Sister Doan’s quilting class at the Accra Ghana Christiansborg Stake center. They were genuinely impressed by the variety of quilt patterns on display, highlighting the creative possibilities available to every participant.

Among the attendees was Victoria Danso, a young single adult (YSA) who has a call to serve a mission in Ibadan, Nigeria. In a conversation with Elder Ojediran, she learned that Ibadan was his hometown. He mentioned that he occasionally visits Ibadan and hopes to see her adjusting well to her missionary activities. She showed him the quilted fabric she had completed. She plans to use it to make a tote bag to take with her when she enters the missionary training center shortly.

Another YSA in the class, Irene Ankrah, had been taking missionary lessons and said the quilting class’s warm and friendly atmosphere allowed her to ask questions about the Church in a comfortable setting. She explained that many of her questions were answered as she spoke with the ladies and, therefore, felt confident in her decision to be baptized.

The quilting sessions on Thursdays have cultivated a sense of community among YSAs and Relief Society sisters. Together, they learn a valuable skill and share testimonies of Jesus Christ, strengthening their bond of sisterhood.

Every attendee expressed gratitude for Sister Doan, whose exceptional tutoring and cheerful spirit make each class a treasured experience. Fun fact: In addition to being a creative quilter, Sister Doan is an enthusiastic whistler, adding an extra layer of joy to her classes!

Si is not tied to his mother, but somebody, usually his mother, Anita Begieneman, always accompanies him because he has been almost totally paralyzed since March 1,1975, when he fell from a gymnastics high bar. He can only see, hear, think, mouth words, and smile.
Prior to his accident, Si had been a fairly typical Latter-day Saint teenager. Almost 17, the oldest of six children, he loved all sports; didn’t mind school too much; played the piano; and teased his brothers, his sisters, and his mother. His one big goal was to go on a mission as soon as he turned 19.
In one instant Si went from full healthy activity to total paralysis. He lost all movement. He could not breathe, speak, or eat. He was on a life-supporting respirator 24 hours a day.
Usually when people are suddenly handicapped they experience denial, anger, resentment, and even bitterness before they finally accept their condition. Si’s medical team was amazed because he did not experience anger, depression, or a sense of hopelessness and panic.
He did get pneumonia, however, and his mother called Si’s former bishop and good friend, Robert S. Patterson, to give Si a blessing. Brother Patterson said, “Your accident has a definite and important purpose. You are to become an instrument in Heavenly Father’s hand to help bring many people who do not presently believe in God to a knowledge of him. This is to be your mission. You agreed to it before you came to the earth, and if you fulfill it well, you will thank your Heavenly Father for it every day throughout eternity.”
Si’s mother also received a witness of the Lord’s love. Si remembers, “Mom asked me what I would do if I could never again walk, talk, play the piano, or participate in sports. It was something that I had thought about a lot. I said, ‘It’s okay, Mom, I did those things the best I could when I could do them, and now I’ll learn to do something else.’
“She told me that the day after my accident she had gone down to my room, sat on the bed, and cried, ‘Heavenly Father, why? Why did this happen to my son?’ In answer, thoughts flooded into her mind. She realized that it was the Holy Ghost, so she grabbed a pencil and paper off my desk and recorded what came to her: ‘This life is a training ground for godhood. How we meet the trials that come and how we let them affect our lives are very important. We must see them as instruments of growth. All things can be for our good if we but let them. This life is the time to prepare to live again with our Heavenly Father, to grow in spirit and character and strength to meet the challenges and tremendous responsibilities of the celestial kingdom. This time of Si’s life will be exciting and challenging as new experiences come to him. None of the talents he has developed will be lost. They are just temporarily set aside while he develops others.’”
As the months passed, Si learned that he did not have to live a passive life simply because he could not move. There was still much he could give. He even learned that one way of giving was to accept help from others with love and gratitude. And he has received from many, many people.
To mention a few: His mother visits his hospital room each day and spends many hours with him. Other family members also show their love and support. Doctors and nurses at the hospital provide constant care. The Primary children of his stake raised $2,000 to buy a hydraulic lift to raise his wheelchair into his van. The Edmonton Singles Ward produced a musical comedy, and his four talented stepsisters presented a musical program to raise funds for a personal computer.
Brother Bob Layton, a news reporter for a local radio station, produced a two-part documentary on Si. It is the station’s policy to never play a documentary more than once, but the listener response to the Si Peterson story was so overwhelming, that they had to repeat it many times. Eventually the soundtrack from the documentary was combined with a series of photographic slides to form a sight and sound presentation. Brother Layton has, on request, taken this presentation to firesides, schools, and community organizations many times. The letters of response, many from school children, are evidence that Si has truly been an instrument of bringing people to God. One girl wrote, “Your faith and your acceptance of your accident help me to believe too.”
Some gifts Si has received were not altogether welcome at first. One day in 1977 a young man named Duane Simpson walked into Si’s hospital room, turned off the television set, and demanded, “What are you doing with your life, Si? Why are you wasting your time watching television? There’s nothing wrong with your brain—Why aren’t you using it?”
Si was amazed. His mother was very angry. But Duane continued, “Si, I’m here to help you any way I can.” He explained that he had been assigned to Si as a tutor.
Beginning then, Si’s life changed dramatically. “I guess I needed Duane to help me change my attitude. I wasn’t doing anything because I never really thought there was anything I could do.”
Since then Si has worked toward completing his high school education. He now aims to enroll in a university and obtain a degree in social work.
How does someone in his condition study? He listens to cassette tapes and his tutor. The tutor then reads him the questions. Si gives the answers “orally”. But because Si cannot make any sounds, his tutor has to read his lips, write down the answers, and send them to the correspondence school to be graded. It is a slow, tedious way to study, but Si jokes, “I’m getting better marks than I ever did before.”
While Si has learned to receive graciously, he has also learned to give unselfishly. He has counseled with many depressed and troubled people who are struggling to face their own handicaps and difficulties, and all have gone away lifted in spirit.
His deep empathy for the feelings and problems of others has also helped him reach out and bring people into the Church or back into activity.
One of them, a nurse in the hospital where Si lives remembers, “I first heard about the Church during my 3 A.M. discussions with Si. He gave definition to many basic feelings I’d had all my life. Then he asked me if I’d be willing to listen to the missionaries, and I did. I was baptized in August 1983.”
David McTavish is another of the many whose lives Si has touched. “Coming back from inactivity, at first I felt uncomfortable with Si. But the example of his acceptance of the Church and his faith, plus my many discussions with him, have helped me to handle the obstacles between me and the Church. He has also given me a freedom not to be afraid of the kind of person I am.”
Mrs. G. Von Busse, a tall, blonde grandmother, is Si’s physiotherapist and good friend. “I have watched Si grow from a teenager to the very fine young man he is today. With Si I have a friend. Nobody really knows me at the hospital but Si. We talk about everything—my youth, music, finances, politics, my family—everything. And when I go to Germany to visit my family there, they ask, ‘How is Si?’ And when I come back, Si has my favorite record playing. He is a very good person, highly intelligent and healthy—only that he is paralyzed, that’s all.”
If you were to stop by Si’s room unannounced, you would probably find him working on his computer or with his earphones on, listening to one of his many cassette tapes: the standard works (he’s listened to them all at least four times), conference talks, recorded books, school lessons, or music ranging from the Tabernacle Choir to classics to popular.
Si’s independence was greatly increased by the electronic control unit which the Alberta Rehabilitation Council installed for him in 1978. By touching the control lever with his lower lip, he can turn on or off everything that is connected to the system. He can even call a nurse with it. Now he has a modified personal computer that can be merged with the unit and allows him, for the first time in ten years, to write his own messages. “This opens up lots of things that have been closed to me,” he says. “I can use it to work on my education. Then I’ll write a book about my life. Also, after more training, maybe I’ll compose some music.”
Undoubtably much of Si’s strength comes from the gospel. He has been an elder since November, 1977. And on June 22, 1982, he traveled more than 300 miles to the Alberta Temple to receive his endowments. Temple President Vi A. Wood, who years before had given Si his patriarchal blessing, helped him through the endowment session.
Si calmly accepts his paralysis, but it is not easy to live as he does. Aside from the obvious discomforts and limitations, he also endures the side effects of it all. For example, because he is constantly on the respirator, his blood gasses get out of balance, causing him severe hallucinations. He has had many, many near-fatal moments when his respirator has failed. He has suffered cardiac arrest, pneumonia again and again, kidney stones, stomach ulcers, and strokes. But his faith in his Heavenly Father is unshaken.
So is his sense of humor. There is usually a smile on Si’s face, and he loves a good practical joke. When his mother went to the hospital once for her daily visit, she was in for a shock. Two hospital orderlies with very serious faces were sitting near Si’s room, and his door was closed. She opened the door and went in.
Si’s room was darkened, and he was covered with a white sheet. Anita’s heart faltered. She walked over and pulled back the sheet. Si was laughing! Then the orderlies came in, and they were laughing too.
Si is an inspiration to his whole family. His youngest sister, Barbie, reflects, “I was only five years old when the accident happened, so to me having Si like this is just a part of our way of life. It’s not a burden for us. I guess it would be if Si made a big fuss about it, but he doesn’t, so neither do I. Sometimes I wish I could make him better, but then I think no, because he’s blessed so many people’s lives. I do hope that sometime he’ll be well again. He’s really a great guy.”
Si’s father, Dr. Frank Peterson, concludes, “It’s unfortunate that he’s immobilized, but everything else about this has been positive. I’m proud of him.”
Si has a firm testimony, and he bears it frequently. His mother reads his lips and then gives voice to his feelings to the accompaniment of the rhythmic hum of his respirator.
“One of the main purposes of this earth life is to be tried, to prove ourselves worthy to return to our Heavenly Father, and so trials that come to us are an important part of our lives. Every one of us will be tried in one way or another. The important thing is how we accept our trials and grow from them. They can be stumbling blocks or stepping stones.
“I am grateful for my membership in the true and living Church, and I am grateful for the priesthood that I hold. I am grateful for my family who loves and supports me, and for the many others who help me so much. I know that my Heavenly Father lives and that he hears and answers my prayers. I am grateful for my Savior, Jesus Christ, and for his sacrifice for me. I know that my accident had a special purpose in my Heavenly Father’s plan for me.
“I feel fortunate that the trial I have been given is so obvious that I receive a lot of encouragement and help from many people. Your trials may be just as difficult as mine, but perhaps not as obvious, and so I pray that you will be able to accept them and have the strength to endure and grow from them.”
This thought is typical of Si Peterson. Trapped inside the prison of his own motionless body, with every possible excuse to turn his thoughts bitterly inward, his mind reaches out to others in prayer and service. Even lying flat on his back, he is a giant. Si Peterson—a typical young Latter-day Saint and a unique human being.

Patricia: My best friend, Francini, and I are some of the only members of the Church in our school in Brazil, and we often find that the small things we do make a big difference.
One such small thing occurred in a Saturday math class Francini and I had together. On this particular day, Francini was absent. During class, the tests we had taken a few days before were passed back. I wasn’t paying much attention when the teacher placed Francini’s test on my desk and asked me to give it to her.
Since Francini and I had already discussed how we thought we had done, I was surprised that her grade was higher than we had expected. I looked at her test and saw that the teacher had failed to mark one incorrect answer as wrong. Without even considering, I told the teacher that Francini’s grade was too high.
What I didn’t realize was that the whole class was watching. As soon as I spoke, the class began to criticize me, saying that I was wrong to do that to a friend and that I only wanted my grade to be higher than hers.
I was confused and upset by the response. I was sure I had done what Francini would have done. But someone said it was impossible for anyone to be honest to the point of lowering his or her own grade. Everyone saw me as a traitor to my friend. I tried to tell them that Francini would have been honest about her grade and that truly honest people still exist in the world.
After much debate, the teacher and class decided that they would test us. The teacher said he would keep Francini’s grade wrong and that we would wait and see her reaction on Monday.
I didn’t like the idea. I felt that testing Francini was not fair. But the teacher had made his decision, and I couldn’t change it.
That weekend I was anxious about what would happen, even though I had confidence that Francini would do what was right. I fervently prayed that she would notice the error on her test.
In math class on Monday, the whole class was alert as they watched Francini pick up her test.
Francini: Shortly after class started on Monday, the teacher handed me back my math test. I was about to put it away without really looking at it, but then I noticed that my grade was higher than I had expected. I raised my hand and went to the teacher’s desk. I asked if he had graded the test correctly, and he answered that he had. I then pointed to my test and said, “But I made a mistake.” At that moment Patricia also came up to the teacher’s desk and told him that he had also left a wrong answer unmarked on her test and with all the confusion on Saturday, she had not noticed it.
The classroom immediately erupted. Some people began to murmur about Patricia telling me, but others gave embarrassed smiles. I was confused by all the different reactions to these events.
Later, Patricia explained what had happened on Saturday. I was surprised to know that I had been through a test unrelated to math and that my classmates had responded to my friend in that way. However, I was happy that I had been honest and that Patricia’s prayers had helped me be prompted to notice the mistake on my test. I am also grateful that my friend believed in me.
Patricia and Francini: Both of us learned a great lesson from this experience. Our testimonies have grown about the important role Latter-day Saints have in being witnesses of Jesus Christ and examples of His principles. We are grateful to the Lord for His gospel, which gives us the opportunity to make a difference.

Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin’s article, “Come What May, and Love It,” in the November 2008 Liahona (p. 26), lent spiritual help to our daughter, who recently went through a difficult ordeal. During her pregnancy, the doctors gave her a grim diagnosis—our grandchild would not survive.
Daily family and personal prayer along with that article gave us hope, and a miracle happened in our family: our grandson was born. He had to stay in the hospital for a while, but a month later the doctors did not confirm the previous diagnosis.
Gennadji and Tatjana Mitchenko, Russia

I was the oldest child in my family, so a lot of people were interested in me as I prepared to be baptized when I turned eight years old. My siblings and all the neighbor kids were curious about my baptism. I was too. I even became quite nervous about being baptized.
My baptism was scheduled on a nice spring day. We lived out in the country, and when I woke up that morning, I decided to take a walk outside. I wanted to look things over for the last time as an unbaptized person. I looked at the trees and the river. I wondered how things would be different after I was baptized because it seemed to be a really big deal.
Then I walked home and got dressed for my baptism. A priest in our ward baptized me. My dad confirmed me and blessed me to receive the gift of the Holy Ghost.
After my baptism was over, I didn’t look different at all. My friends came over to see if I had changed. I told them I hadn’t changed—not on the outside. But I had changed on the inside. From that day on, I knew I wanted to be a better boy because of the whisperings of the Holy Ghost.
In the Book of Mormon, we read of some Lamanites who received the Holy Ghost, but “they knew it not” (3 Nephi 9:20). But on the day of my baptism, I knew the Holy Ghost had come upon me. I also knew I wanted to choose the right. I am grateful for the Holy Ghost. Every day I have tried to live so I could always have His companionship. As you try to choose the right, the Holy Ghost can also be your best friend.

Michael Molling, 12, from Orem, Utah, was selected to be the young Vincenzo. For Michael, being cast was a pleasant surprise. He and a friend had been handed a flyer in the local shopping mall. He went to the studio, filled out a card with his name and address, and had his picture taken. He was called to come back for another picture-taking session, then received a phone call telling him he had the part.

“They called and said I got the part,” Michael explains. “After I hung up I ran and did somersaults and jumped all over the couch. I was happy.”

For his scenes, Michael had to learn to quote scripture in Italian. And he had to learn to put up with makeup and old-fashioned shoes several sizes too big as part of his costume. “The hardest thing,” says Michael, “was memorizing the words. When I would start to talk, I would start moving my knees, and the director would have to tell me to not move my knees. I didn’t even know I was doing it.”

One of Michael’s scenes is in a schoolroom with other boys his age. These boys are extras, called in to dress in costume and fill up the rest of the desks in the background. Erika Anderson, 18, is working as extras’ coordinator for the film, and it is her job to see that the boys are where they should be when they should be. Erika is rather young to have such an important position, but she’s been working in films for several years. Her father, David, is a film distributor and producer, and Erika has had a chance to work in different ways on films since she was 10.

“The first thing I ever did,” says Erika, “was be an extra. Then I worked on a commercial shoot in New York. I was a production assistant. My dad was in charge, and I helped run errands and time the shots.” Erika was recommended for the BYU film job, and Peter Johnson, the producer of the film and director of the Motion Picture Studio has been pleased with her work. “She shows such integrity in her work. She’s always there, always on time. We give her instructions, and she does what we ask. We never have to follow up with her.”

Erika has learned a lot about the importance of doing a good job. “What I’ve known all along is whenever a job is given to me, I have to get it done because someone is expecting me to do it. If you don’t hold your end up, everything can fall apart. I learned that at 13, so I’ve been practicing for a while.”

As extras’ coordinator, Erika describes her job this way, “When there are kids, I’m in charge of the kids. When there are adults, I’m in charge of telling them where to go and getting them all there and getting them committed to do it. It’s really hard, but it’s rewarding to see it all come together.”

Erika’s first thoughts after being told that they needed 250 extras for the scene in the marketplace outside the temple at Bountiful was, “Where am I going to find 250 extras on a Tuesday?”

Erika and her supervisor, Kathy Bessinger, casting director, did find them. They sent the call out to wards in Salt Lake and Orem areas. Then buses were arranged, lunch and dinner ordered for the crowd, and makeup and wardrobe people alerted. On this Tuesday, they had the crowd of extras they needed to shoot the scene.

Russ Holt, the director and screenwriter, explains how the project was initiated. “It started with President Benson’s call to the membership of the Church to increase their study of, interest in, and use of the Book of Mormon. It really originated with that.”

As the director, Russ has worked with a group of professionals that have translated the script into beautifully photographed scenes on film. Russ explains, “There are times when as a scriptwriter you envision this scene, and when it finally gets on film, it surprises you because it’s better than you imagined. Take the scene at the dock at Palermo, Italy. I thought we were going to do a simple little scene, but the art director, the cameraman, and others had a concept of what that could become, and they turned that scene into something gorgeous.”

Making the film has been a huge undertaking, lots of hard work and long hours. Because a film is produced in bits and pieces and then put together in the editing room, the actual day-to-day work is often not highly charged emotionally. Peter Johnson, the producer, explains, “We are magicians in the film business. The process that you see is not glamorous, and it’s not that emotional. When it’s all put together, then it reaches you.”

In this age of video, Peter also explains that seeing a movie about the Book of Mormon in no way replaces the experience of actually reading it for yourself. “You cannot replace through watching television or motion picture the actual one-on-one experience that you have with the Lord when you are reading scripture. That cannot be duplicated. I hope that the work that we do stimulates people to have a desire for that personal experience like Parley P. Pratt and Vincenzo Di Francesca had with the Book of Mormon.”

As my family sat a few rows behind the deacons one sacrament meeting, all I could think about before the opening hymn was that one of the deacons had failed to properly tie his long tie and correctly tuck in his wrinkled shirt. I thought someone should have helped him out. After all, when passing the sacrament, deacons should be an example of the Savior in action and dress.
The meeting proceeded, and I forgot about him. After the deacons had passed the sacrament, the talks began. The second speaker was the young man’s mother. She spoke of her conversion, of her trials growing up, and of her struggles as a single mother. It was a wonderful talk that left her in tears. She took her seat on the stand and continued to cry as the ward choir gathered to sing.
Just then her son, with his crooked tie and untucked shirt, stood and walked to the stand. He hugged his mother and crouched beside her to comfort her. Tears came to my eyes as the scene played out before me; I was touched beyond words. But then realization dawned, and I hung my head. Sitting in my crisp double-breasted suit, with my perfectly tied tie and polished black shoes, I realized I had truly missed something in preparing for the sacrament.
The young man and his mother came down from the stand and sat together as the choir began to sing. I sat there, unable to listen to the music because the sermon taught by this deacon flooded my heart with a message of Christlike charity.
He had performed his act with tenderness and care. There was not the slightest sign of embarrassment on his young face—only pure love. The subsequent messages over the pulpit that day were good, but I will always remember the sermon behind the pulpit.

“One woman wanted more than anything else to marry a righteous priesthood holder in the temple and be a mother and a wife. She had dreamed about this all her life, and oh, what a wonderful mother and loving wife she would be. Her home would be filled with loving-kindness. Never a bitter word would be spoken. The food would never burn. And her children, instead of hanging out with their friends, would prefer to spend their evenings and weekends with Mom and Dad.
“This was her golden ticket. It was the one thing upon which she felt her whole existence depended. It was the one thing in all the world for which she most desperately yearned.
“But it never happened. And, as the years went on, she became more and more withdrawn, bitter, and even angry. She could not understand why God would not grant her this righteous desire.
“She worked as an elementary school teacher, and being around children all day long simply reminded her that her golden ticket had never appeared. As the years passed she became more disappointed and withdrawn. People didn’t like being around her and avoided her whenever they could. She even took her frustration out on the children at school. …
“The tragedy of this story is that this dear woman, in all her disappointment about her golden ticket, failed to notice the blessings she did have. She did not have children in her home, but she was surrounded by them in her classroom. She was not blessed with a family, but the Lord had given her an opportunity few people have—the chance to influence for good the lives of hundreds of children and families as a teacher.
“The lesson here is that if we spend our days waiting for fabulous roses, we could miss the beauty and wonder of the tiny forget-me-nots that are all around us.”

It was a morning like most. I couldn’t find two socks that matched. The pitcher of orange juice was empty. There were only quarters and nickels in the family lunch-money can. Like most mornings I was running late and could hear the school bus roaring up the street before I was ready. I grabbed my backpack, forced on shoes still tied from the last wearing, and raced to the front door.
And, like most mornings, Dad was standing at the door with a look that said, “You missed family prayer again. How do you make it through your day?”
So before he could say out loud what his face was already shouting, I said, “Bye, Dad. I love you.”
“I love you more,” he teased.
Then, as I raced past him, he grabbed my hand, stopping me for a split second. “And your Father in Heaven loves you even more. Think about Him today, will you, sweetheart?”
“Sure, Dad,” I grinned and ran to the bus.
It wasn’t that I was the stupidest person at my high school. I averaged B’s. If every class had been dance or drama I would have been a straight-A student. But they weren’t, and I wasn’t. Drama was only 55 minutes a day, and dance came after school. Except for those brief moments when my spirit could soar free, I found myself in a sort of academic prison camp.
I felt my jaw clamping tighter and tighter. By sixth hour I wasn’t just ugly about school—I was ugly about me. As my math teacher began to explain a story problem that had no business being in a book, I sank even deeper. That’s when the voice in my head started repeating: “Why isn’t this making sense? Is it just me or is this a math class death march? How will I ever make it to graduation? I hate this class. I hate this teacher. I hate this school. I hate math. I hate my brain for not getting this. Why can’t I get this? Why am I so dumb?”
There, I said it, the thing I hated most about school. It made me feel dumb—worthless. So I sat there wanting to cry, but knowing if I did, I’d feel even more dumb. If I could have stood and recited Shakespeare or shown them my running split-leap in the air, then they would have known the real me, how talented I really was.
My whole day—okay the whole rest of the school year—would have been totally lame but for the strangest thing happening. Out of nowhere, my father’s words came rushing into my head.
“And your Father in Heaven loves you even more. Think about Him today, will you, sweetheart?”
Now I wasn’t the most obedient 15-year-old, but I knew undoubtedly that my dad loved me. And I knew I didn’t like how I was feeling about myself, math, and my future in public education. So I listened to his words. I followed my dad’s advice. And right there in algebra, I closed my eyes and let my mind rest on my Father in Heaven. I saw Him in some ways very much like my own dad—gentle and kind and deeply caring about me as his daughter. He loved me.
The remarkable thing was that as I held on to that image, my stress vanished. I felt like what it talks about in the Book of Mormon, like I was “encircled … in the arms of his love” (2 Ne. 1:15). I knew in that moment that I could do all things with God, even making it through algebra without causing permanent damage to my psyche. In fact I felt completely free from my stress. In that moment I felt His love.

A temple trip to do baptisms for the dead took on new meaning for the youth of the Oklahoma City Oklahoma Stake. To prepare for their temple trip, the youth worked in the name extraction program and personally performed the baptisms in behalf of the people whose names they had extracted.

The Young Women worked in pairs. One would read and the other would print the information on extraction cards. The girls began to feel a close relationship with the people on the film. They prayed for guidance when names were not legible and often were able to decipher the writing.

The Young Men became interested in the program and began participating in name extraction in preparation for the temple trip. The Young Women helped train the Young Men in the correct ways of filling out extraction cards.

When the youth traveled to the temple, they felt the significance of what they were doing because they had been involved through the whole process.

It was the spring of 1864, and the fruit trees and fields were promising an abundant yield to the Navajos living in the Canyon de Chelly. Bright Morning was herding her mother’s sheep on the mesa above their village when a sudden change came into her life.
The story Bright Morning tells of the Spanish slavers, the army soldiers, Indian family life, and her friendship with Tall Boy, who is strong and proud, makes fascinating reading. Many changes come to Bright Morning and her people. Many spirits are broken. Bright Morning is one of the few who possess an inner strength based on hope. She will survive.
Scott O’Dell won the coveted Newbery Award in 1961 for Island of the Blue Dolphins. His Sing Down the Moon was the runner-up for the Newbery Award in 1971.

I was determined to have a bad attitude as my mom picked my brother and me up from school and drove us downtown. It was Christmastime, and I was supposed to be shopping with my friends. Instead, I was headed to a homeless shelter in our city to help fulfill an assignment that our stake had been given to clean the shelter and serve food to the people there.
When we arrived, my mood darkened as I was assigned to clean out the industrial-size refrigerator, which had recently been left open and now had all sorts of mold growing inside. I rolled my eyes and sighed in disgust at the green mess before me. With rubber gloves up to my elbows, I started scrubbing halfheartedly.
As I worked, a small boy in worn clothes stepped out of the food line to watch my progress. He stood at the door and simply smiled at me. And then without a word, he walked away. I was touched as I watched him go, and a scripture came to my mind: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matthew 25:40).
“How well would I clean if I were doing this for Christ?” I thought to myself. “How hard would I work for Him?”
A smile spread across my face, and I turned back to my task. And with new perspective, I scrubbed the fridge until it shined.

Evan Payne owned and operated a gasoline and auto repair station in Thousand Oaks, California. He was quick with a smile and even quicker to remember people’s names. He knew his customers, their children, and their cars. Evan worked long hours, six days a week, and was genuinely interested in helping people. He gave jobs to teenagers who had family problems or who were preparing for or returning from missions. He would stay late or arrive early to accommodate a customer. Nearly everyone in town knew Evan Payne and liked him.
Evan was also busy at home and at church. He and his wife, Becky, had five children, ages 7 to 13. He had served twice as a counselor in the bishopric, as bishop, and now as a counselor in our stake presidency.
Evan was young, athletic, happy, and outgoing. He had dark hair and a handsome face. He loved to ski and play Church softball and basketball. So it didn’t seem possible when I heard that Evan had leukemia.
In the months following his diagnosis there were family, ward, and stake fasts. Evan went through chemotherapy and radiation. When Evan’s illness did not go into remission, his brothers were tested to determine if they could be bone marrow donors. None matched. He and Becky got their affairs in order and prepared for the worst, but in spite of the pain Evan remained upbeat and positive. He continued to work nearly every day, although he was clearly suffering.
One day my office phone rang. “Joel,” Evan said, “what are you doing tonight? I want you to come with me to give a blessing to someone in your ward. Can you do it?”
“Sure,” I said. “Who are we going to bless?”
“Sally Carlisle (names have been changed). She is an elderly lady from San Diego. She is in town visiting her daughter, Joan Wilson, who isn’t active. I should be taking the Wilsons’ home teacher, but I don’t know who it is, and she needs a blessing right away. Can you pick me up?”
I had a sudden sinking feeling, and a wave of guilt flooded over me. For many months I had been assigned to home teach the Wilson family, but I had not even called them. Numerous times I had intended to call or stop by, but each time I rationalized my way out. I had not done my duty. I told Evan I would pick him up at 7:00.
As we drove Evan explained that the Wilsons had been customers at his service station for many years. Joan had been raised in the Church but had drifted into inactivity as a young adult. She had married Mike Wilson, who was not a member of the Church, and they had raised their four boys in Mike’s religion. Evan explained that we would be giving a blessing to Joan’s mother, who had the flu. Joan had called Evan at the station and asked him to come. He was the only member of the Church she knew.
When we arrived at the Wilson home, Joan greeted us at the door but excused herself while we visited with her mother. Sally explained how much she wanted her daughter to come back to the Church and how she prayed for Mike and Joan to be able to receive the blessings of the gospel. After we visited for a few minutes, I anointed Sally and Evan blessed her. It was a simple blessing of comfort and good health.
As I drove Evan home, I felt grateful to have witnessed that priesthood blessing. I was also grateful for the introduction to the Wilson family and for spending those moments with Evan Payne, who passed away just a few months later.
In the following years I visited the Wilson home regularly. They welcomed me and remembered me as Evan’s friend. At first we just talked about Evan and what a great power for good he had been in our community. I remained the Wilsons’ home teacher for 15 years, and I tried to be like Evan and help whenever I could. Mike and Joan became my good friends and blessed my life in return.
Although Joan did not return to activity and Mike did not join the Church, I will always treasure their love and friendship. I was serving as bishop when Joan passed away. At the time of her death, Mike donated a large sum to the ward missionary fund. That money supported a missionary from our ward who joined the Church as a teenager and had no family resources to allow him to serve. Mike’s contribution indirectly touched the lives of the many converts that young elder taught.
Although I am certain Evan Payne did not intend to teach me any lessons that night many years ago, I learned that it is no burden to be about the Lord’s business. I try to be, as Evan was, truly interested in and concerned for our Heavenly Father’s children. And as a home teacher I try to be as faithful as Evan was and as the Savior would want me to be.

In 1856, two handcart companies, with 1,075 pioneers under the leadership of James G. Willie and Edward Martin, left later in the year than planned, and they encountered early winter storms in present-day Wyoming (see Kate B. Carter, comp., Heart Throbs of the West, 6 vols. (1939–51), 6:360–61).

Peter Howard McBride, then but a boy of six years, was a member of the Martin Company. His father, after helping push handcarts through the icy river, died in the snow and freezing cold that night. Peter’s mother was sick; his older sister Jenetta watched out for the younger children. Her shoes had worn out, and her feet left bloody tracks in the snow. On the banks of the Sweetwater River the wind blew their tent down during the night. Everyone scampered out as the snow covered the tent—everyone except little Peter. According to his account: “In the morning I heard someone say, ‘How many are dead in this tent?’ My sister said, ‘Well, my little brother must be frozen to death in that tent.’ So they jerked the tent loose, sent it scurrying over the snow. My hair was frozen to the tent. I picked myself up and came out quite alive, to their surprise” (Peter Howard McBride, quoted in Susan Arrington Madsen, I Walked to Zion, 41, 43, 45–46).

The seminary students say that putting on the Nativity scene is the best part of the week. Their goal in reenacting the Nativity is to bring others closer to the Savior, which is why they are willing to put in hours of practice time and brave sub-zero temperatures in order to perform it. “I was freezing to death, but I was still happy that I was doing something to make a difference in someone’s life,” says Mike Kelly, 16. “I was willing to stay out there to do that.”

“The greatest gift that you can give is when you give of yourself.” I have often heard this, but it never really affected me until one Christmas—a Christmas I will never forget.
It all started with a seminary project. We were asked to take a fruit basket to an elderly person. I had not wanted to go, but somehow I found myself at the seminary waiting for my class to arrive.
Some would call it a mere coincidence, but I saw the hand of the Lord in it when my class did not show up. Fortunately, my friend’s class was also going, and I was able to go along with them. I remember the conversations that we had on the way to the elderly man’s house:
Cindy, who was a little insecure but tried to cover up for it by talking incessantly, picked Jody out as an easy target for her taunting remarks. “Jody, who did you ask to the dance?”
Lisa understood Jody’s needs and shyness and answered quickly as Jody hesitated. “I’m taking Dave, in my history class. Jody, maybe we could double.”
Jody responded to Lisa’s sensitivity. “We really should. That sounds like a lot of fun. I’m taking Tom. I thought he played so well in the football game yesterday.”
That ended the dance conversation, but the radio kept playing and the conversation moved to another subject. No one in the car was really thinking about the old man we were going to see or what was in store. We were thinking more in terms of ourselves, and maybe that was why it came as such a shock when our car stopped in front of a worn-down house that looked deserted. There were tall weeds that had taken over the front lawn, the paint on his home was chipped, and there was a long crack in his front window.
As we got out of the car and looked around the neighborhood, we noticed that all the houses looked just the same as this man’s. The rain was pouring down, disturbing the sleeping dog that was lying in the gutter.
Not wanting to go any further, yet knowing we had better unless we wanted to drown in the rain, we proceeded to his front door. After ringing the doorbell and waiting for about two minutes, we turned around to go back to the car. Then we heard the screen door open. As we turned back to the house, we saw an elderly man clad in worn dresspants and an old sweater. He gave us a smile that without words said, “I wouldn’t even care if you had the wrong house; can we talk for a moment?”
We told him that we were from a local high school and that if he would allow us to we would like to come in and talk with him. He looked very shocked but welcomed us just the same.
As we entered the house, we were touched by a very strong spirit. His house wasn’t much—it consisted of a threadbare couch, a table, a small lamp, a chair, and one small evergreen branch that was decorated and served as his Christmas tree. You could see he didn’t have many material comforts, but we sensed he had something more; he had the Spirit of the Lord.
He invited us to sit down and chat for a few minutes. We sat down and told him we had prepared a story and a song that we would like to share with him. He said that would be just fine, and we proceeded with our program.
We told him our story and began our song. As we were singing “I Am a Child of God,” each of us felt his spirit and noticed the tears, but we continued on as best we could. As we came to the conclusion of the song, we were all in tears due to the special feeling radiating through the home.
When we stood up to leave, not wanting to but knowing we had better, the elderly man said, “This has meant so much to me. You see, last week my wife died, and we had the funeral two days ago. I have really dreaded this Christmas.”
As we gave him a final hug, he continued on with what he was saying. “You girls have brought a new light to this special occasion. I thank you, and I want you to know that you have made a lonely old man very happy.”
With tears in our eyes, we left his house very humbled and filled with the Spirit of the Lord. As we rode home in the car, there was no loud music, there was no talk of boys and dates. The car was filled with silence, but there was a joy that was felt by everyone.

Let’s just cite one more example where the Lord watched over and protected his Saints in the Church. This is found in the History of the Church: There were threats of a mob on June 19, 1834. As the Mormons were making camp, five men rode up and told them that they would “see hell before morning.” They stated that an armed force from Richmond, Ray, and Clay counties was to join a Jackson County force at the Fishing River ford, bent on the utter destruction of the camp.
While these five men were in the camp, cursing and swearing vengeance, signs of an approaching storm were seen. No sooner had these men left the camp than the storm burst forth in all its fury. Hailstones struck, so large that they cut limbs from the trees, and the limbs fell all around the camp while the trees were twisted from their roots by the force of the wind. The earth trembled and quaked, and the streams became raging torrents, and the mobbers dispersed, seeking shelter that could not be found. One mobber was killed by lightning and another had his hand torn off by a fractious horse, and in fear they dispersed, saying that if that was the way God fought for the “Mormons” they would go about their business.
On the morning of June 21 (just two days later) Colonel Sconce, with two companions, visited the camp to learn what the intentions of the members were. He said: “I see there is an almighty power that protects this people, for I started from Richmond, Ray County, with a company of armed men, having a fixed determination to destroy you, but was kept back by the storm.”
The Prophet then related to these men the sufferings of the Saints, and they left the camp offering to use their influence. (See History of the Church, 2:103–6.)
During all this storm the members of the camp were protected from its fury. Why were they protected? Because of their collective obedience to the Lord.

Travis Hildebrand, 14, of the Etna Ward, Medford Oregon Stake, is one of the fastest milers in his area. He’s so fast, in fact, that in a regional meet sponsored by the Hershey Chocolate Company, he won a position and expenses to compete in a national meet in Hershey, Pennsylvania.

Travis’s parents wanted to support him at the national meet, but Pennsylvania was many miles and dollars away. That’s where a lot of hard family work and some community contributions came in. They were able to make the trip, and they stayed with a generous family in the Hershey area. Travis placed fourth in the meet, which featured some of the best runners in the country.

When Travis isn’t running, he’s studying to maintain his 4.0 GPA, working on becoming an Eagle Scout, and serving in his teachers quorum.

Sixteen-year-old Steven D. McKell of Salt Lake City, who was kidnapped at gunpoint but was able to free himself, received Scouting’s Medal of Merit for his bravery.
The FBI report of the incident reads:
“While alone at his home, Steven was confronted by a person who represented himself as a deliveryman. The man at the door had a truck-type dolly with a large cardboard box on it.
“The man indicated he had a document that Steven should sign as a receipt for the package. As the youth started to do this, the deliveryman pulled out a handgun, held it against Steven’s cheek, and forced him into the house.
“The man placed leg irons and handcuffs on Steven and forced him to lie on the floor. Steven’s mouth was then stuffed with a bandanna, and the bandanna was taped in place. Pads of cotton were placed over his eyes and taped closed. A nylon stocking was pulled over his head to keep the bandanna and pads in place.”
Steven was told to get inside the carton, which was then hauled out of the house on the dolly and lifted into the van, which was driven to a location about 10 minutes away.
The boy was led into an old rabbit hutch where boards were nailed over him. He was told by his captor not to try to escape since someone would be watching him.
“I didn’t believe him,” said Steven, “so when I heard him drive away, I began kicking my feet until I could get out of the frame. In my efforts to get free, I felt a nail against my nose and used that to pull the blindfold off.”
Steven was still gagged and cuffed hand and foot, but he could see and move. He made short jumps toward the road and attracted the attention of a jogger, who removed his gag and carried him over his shoulder to a nearby home. From there, Steven called his father, allowing enough time for the local police and the FBI to set a trap for the kidnapper, who was caught, convicted, and imprisoned.
Steven received the national Scouting office medal at a court of honor. He is a member of the Butler 12th Ward, Salt Lake Butler Stake.