Gospel Story Finder

One Sunday morning before church I was playing our piano. I decided to open the piano top to watch the hammers move. When I lifted the top, a large glass vase full of flowers fell off the piano and crashed to the floor. My mom came running to find out what had made such a loud noise. She was unhappy when she saw that her new vase had been broken. She asked me if I had done it. At first I said “No,” but then I said “Yes,” because I knew it was the right thing to do. I asked my mum how much the vase cost, and she told me two pounds. But she said that I only needed to give her one pound to help buy a new one. I went upstairs to my room and got the money out of my piggy bank. I gave her a one-pound coin and then surprised her by hiding another one for her to find. I felt good when I told the truth and paid for the new vase. It made Mum happy too. I want to be like Jesus every day and give more than people ask of me.

The dust chased the racing engine of the small import as it labored up the canyon road. It nearly succeeded in enveloping the car at the turn-around curve of each switchback only to be left behind as the gears changed and the complaining engine sped up. Near the top of the ridge the car turned sharply to the right, coasted up a slight incline to a small level opening overlooking the valley below, and stopped. The dust caught up with its now silent prey.
They sat in silence and watched the valley begin its transformation from day to early evening. After a few minutes, he opened the window, sniffed the last remains of the settling dust, and then opened his door to get out. “Well, here we are at Lover’s Leap. Ladies before gentlemen!” he said, as he opened the door for her.
They walked a short distance up the ridge to a large boulder. It was level enough near its base to serve as a chair for her as they attempted to find from this viewpoint the location of their homes among the orchards, fields, and tiny towns that made up their valley.
From that lookout the valley ran for fifteen miles to the north and twenty-five miles to the south. Its boundaries were fixed by the mountains that surrounded it on all sides.
“Brad, does it seem good to be home again?” she asked.
“You know, I think a large part of me is still back there giving discussions. It was, let me see, just twenty-six hours ago that I left my mission president and his wife at the airport. The plane flew home in about the time it took to figure out how to open the salad dressing lid on my supper. When the plane landed, I was in a different world. There was my mom and dad, brothers and sisters, my dog Smart, and you.”
“Listed in the order of their importance?” she teased.
“No, of course not. I’d rate Smart above my brothers and sisters. But what I want to know is, where on that ride did I change from Elder Roberts, missionary, to Brad Roberts, college dropout? Should I have asked the stewardess to help me drop my former identity out of the plane?”
“No. I think that if you ask for anything unusual on a plane now, they just fly you to Cuba.”
“This morning I woke up at six. I was racing for the shower to ace out my companion and just got to the door when I realized there was nobody to beat. I was home.”
“So you decided to get back to a civilized way of life and went back to sleep?” she asked.
“No, I went fishing.”
“And how did you do?”
“Don’t ask.”
“Brad Roberts, do you mean you were skunked?”
“Zero fish. It’s the full moon.”
She laughed. “That’s what my dad says when he doesn’t catch any fish—or else the river is too high or too low or under-stocked.”
“My old fishing hole, the one I kept secret from my brothers, the one you have to walk down the railroad tracks for a half mile and then into a bunch of trees to get to—I went there this morning.”
“By the way, how is it that you took me there once? Weren’t you afraid I’d tell everybody?”
“You are so bad at giving directions I knew that anybody you’d tell would wind up somewhere in the middle of a corn field in Nebraska.”
“Well!” she said, faking insult.
“So I tromp through the trees and what do I see across the river? A trailer camp with maybe a hundred campers and trailers. There’s no fish there now. All those guys from California or Montana or some place have taken my fish and gone. You know, I used to get my limit in an hour all the time there.”
“Has anything else changed, Brad?” The question, as she had intended it, should have evoked a discussion of the new motel, or the new stretch of interstate highway, or the addition to the ward chapel, or the way his brothers had grown in two years. But a certain edge in her voice betrayed her.
He caught the uncontrollable change in direction. “Whatever happened to Cathy Miller?”
“Isn’t she still waiting for Brad Roberts to get back from his mission?” she replied.
“All this time? Good grief, she waited all this time?”
“The happiest two years of his life,” she teased.
“What was it like for you?” he asked.
“The easiest thing in the world. I just called up all my old boyfriends and told them I was available.”
“Really? I knew you went and joined the Peach Fuzz Festival just for publicity; you know, for those guys who may not have been blessed to have been born in our fair town but could still read the paper.”
“It was the Strawberry Festival.”
“Cathy, what was it really like?”
She thought a while before answering. “After you left, I imagined I could wrap my life in Saran Wrap and let it sit for two years until you came back. But it’s a sterile existence to try to stop living and watch the clock tick. I couldn’t do it, Brad. I’ve had a busy life since you’ve been gone. But I always had a little comfortable room in my mind where memories of you hung like pictures from the walls. I often visited that room and remembered how good it was when we were together. That’s the way it was, Brad. You didn’t want me to tell you that I cried myself to sleep every night, did you?”
“No, Cathy. I never wanted that.”
They had walked back to the car. The sun had dropped down behind the mountain across the valley from them.
He reached through the window, opened the glove compartment, and pulled out a small package. “Cathy, I’ve got something that I want you to have.”
She opened it up. An engagement ring lay mounted on a velvet cushion.
“It’s beautiful, Brad.” She spoke quietly, her voice nearly cracking.
“I bought it two years ago before I left.” In case she might not realize, he added, “Cathy, it’s an engagement ring.”
“I know, Brad.”
“Will you marry me?”
She touched his hand lightly. “Brad, could we sit down for this?”
The cold silence beat its fury on them as he helped her into the car and walked around to the driver’s side and got in.
“Brad, why did you do this?”
“Because I want to marry you.”
“Why do you want to marry me?”
“We’ve talked about this before, Cathy. We agreed we would get married if you were still here when I got back.”
“And so now you feel obligated to me for waiting for you?”
His words leaped out. “Have you decided to go into law, for crying out loud! Why have we been writing all this time? Why did you go to summer school while I’ve been gone? So that you could work while I finished school. Why have you spent so much time with my parents while I’ve been gone?”
“You do feel obligated to me for the last two years, don’t you?”
“You’re twisting my words! You do remember that you said you would marry me, don’t you?”
“That was two years ago, Brad! Maybe you can say that it seems like you just left yesterday, but I can’t say that. It seems to me like you left ten years ago!”
He was confused and off balance. “I love you, Cathy,” he said softly.
“Why, Brad, you don’t even know me now; how could you love me?” Her words seemed to hit him. “Do you know who you love? You love a girl that doesn’t even exist anymore—a girl with my name but two years younger than me. You go ask her to marry you. But she won’t. Because she loves someone with your name but two years younger than you. You wouldn’t stand a chance with that girl.”
“What are you trying to tell me?”
“That I can’t accept your ring. At least not now.”
“Is there someone else?”
“Not really.”
She touched his arm. “You don’t owe me a thing, Brad. Most of all, you don’t owe me a proposal of marriage as a payment for waiting for you. I am not going to hold that club over your head. When I kneel across the altar in the temple, I’ve got to be certain that it’s the right guy for me and I want him to be convinced too.”
She handed him the jewelry box containing the ring.
“Am I still in the running?” he asked quietly.
“You are if I am, Brad. But with no pressure because of what we’ve talked about or written in the past. And not because our parents wish it. And not because of what it was like two years ago. You can’t save cotton candy.”
“You can’t what?”
“I was just remembering something that happened to me when I was a little girl. My father took me to a carnival and bought me some cotton candy. It was pink and looked like the clouds at sunset. I just thought it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. When we got home, it was time for bed. I decided to save it so that every day I could have it and look at its beauty. I put it in a little box and put the cover on. The next morning when I woke up, I rushed to look at my beautiful treasure. There was just a lump of sugar and a sticky cardboard funnel. I cried because I thought someone had destroyed it. When I told my mother that I had wanted it to last forever, she said, ‘You can’t save cotton candy. If you want cotton candy forever, you have to make a little every day.’”
They took a long silent look at their valley. The several small towns could be seen as small clusters of light around the darkness defining the lake.
“Cathy?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks. Is there anything else I should know?”
“Yes, Brad.”
“What is it?”
“I’m hungry.”
A hint of a smile swept across his face. “Well, at least that hasn’t changed.”
“Watch it, fella! That’s no way to talk to Miss Strawberry Festival.”
“Let’s go to the taco place we went to before I left.”
“We can’t. They tore it down last year.”
The car backed slowly down to the road, stopped, and then in low gear crept down the dusty road.

On yet another occasion we visited a home where two little girls were sent to meet us at the door by their alcoholic parents. The little girls said through the screen door that their mother and father were asleep. The bishop kept talking to them, smiling and praising their goodness and their bravery, for what seemed to me 10 minutes or more. As I walked away at his side, he said quietly, “That was a good visit. Those little girls will never forget that we came.”

It’s like open season on siblings. Behind the house, Josh is pelting little brother Joe with tennis balls. Joe is pelting Josh back. With each volley, the velocity increases. Dad, on a ladder washing windows, is about to climb down, storm over, and threaten mass destruction if Josh and Joe don’t “Cut it out!”
Inside the house, little sister Jessie is sobbing because big sister Jonelle pulled on Jessie’s hair. Meanwhile, Mom is trying to change baby Jackson’s diaper, not noticing that dinner is about to boil over on the stove.
Enter you. We’ll call you Jasmine, if you’re a young woman. If you’re a young man, we’ll call you Jeremy.
Actually, it doesn’t matter what first name we give you, because what we’re really going to call you is Captain Peacemaker, the superhero of harmony at home, always ready to help family members get along. Confronted with the chaos just described, here’s what the Captain might do:
Ask permission. If someone’s in danger of being physically hurt, rush to their aid. Otherwise, ask Mom or Dad if it’s all right to intervene. Except in emergencies, no family superhero worthy of the title operates outside parental permission.
Use a soothing voice. It’s one of Captain Peacemaker’s most potent superpowers. “A soft answer turneth away wrath” (Proverbs 15:1). A quiet, “Hey, guys,” may be just enough to get everyone to shift gears and quiet down.
Put out the “fire.” In the case of food boiling over, remove it from the heat. In the case of people boiling over, do the same thing. Cool the combustion by separating those whose tempers are flaring. (For example, take one outside for a walk while the other goes downstairs.)
Suggest alternatives. Use Captain Peacemaker’s magic motto: “Let’s do this instead.” Switching to a new activity may help others to stop fanning the flames of contention by focusing their attention elsewhere.
Request backup. You probably don’t have a special signal light in the sky, but you do have ways to summon assistance. Siblings may become allies if enlisted. Parents can step in. So can Church leaders if needed. You can pray. And you can study in your scriptures about the Prince of Peace and follow His example.
Let’s take a look at the scenario now. Thanks to Captain Peacemaker, Josh and Joe are playing catch with Dad, focusing on the accuracy of their throws rather than on how to inflict pain with a projectile. Both boys have promised that after dinner they will help Dad finish washing windows. Jonelle is helping Jessie to braid her hair, and they’re talking about what dresses they’ll wear to church on Sunday. Dinner is simmering on the stove. And Mom is gently rocking little Jack-Jack to sleep. Incredible.
Peacemaker. That’s a superpower worth seeking.

“I’m not going to school today!” Tilly told her mother one Tuesday morning. She turned over in bed and frowned at the wall.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” her mother said. “I guess you don’t want waffles with strawberry sauce and whipped cream, either, do you?”
Tilly rolled over and tumbled out of bed. “I’ll eat waffles, but I’m not going to school.”
The waffles were crispy on the outside and fluffy on the inside. Tilly ate two. She drank her mug of milk and took her dishes to the sink. “I’m still not going to school,” she said.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” her mother said. “I guess you don’t want to wear your favorite purple sweater with the baby kittens on it, either, do you?”
Tilly went back to her room and opened her top dresser drawer. There was her favorite sweater with the kittens on it. She pulled off her nightgown and put on her sweater and her favorite pair of jeans. She put on her purple socks and tennis shoes. “I’m still not going to school.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” her mother said. “I guess you don’t want me to braid your hair and put in a sparkly hair ribbon, either, do you?”
Tilly brought the hairbrush to her mother. “One braid, please,” she said. “And I’d like the purple sparkly ribbon.”
Tilly stood very still while her mother fixed her hair. The brush went swoosh down her back until all the tangles were out. Tilly felt the gentle tug of her mother’s fingers as they twisted her hair into a braid. Click! went the fastener on the purple sparkly hair ribbon. “I’m still not going to school today,” she said.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” her mother said. “I guess you don’t want a tuna fish sandwich and grapes and chocolate milk in your lunch box, either, do you?”
“I’ll help you make the sandwich,” Tilly said, “but I’m not going to school.”
Tilly watched her mother open the tuna fish can and make tuna salad. Tilly herself carefully spread it nice and thick on a slice of bread, then topped it with another slice before her mother cut it into triangles and wrapped it up.
Tilly put it and some grapes into her lunch box while her mother poured some creamy chocolate milk into Tilly’s thermos bottle. Finally she snapped down the latch on the lunch box. “I’m still not going to school today,” she said.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” her mother said. “I guess you don’t want to take your seashells for show and tell, either, do you?”
Tilly ran to her room. On the top shelf of her bookcase was a jar of seashells from her trip to the beach. There were tiny white ones with smooth, gray insides, and big brown ones with rough edges. She even had two round sand dollars with pretty flowers on their tops.
Just then the doorbell rang. Tilly heard her mother answer the door. It was Tilly’s best friend, Tamra. “Good morning, Tamra,” her mother said. “I guess Tilly’s not going to school today.”
“Yes, I am! Yes, I am!” Tilly called. She held her seashell jar in one hand and her lunch box in the other.
Her mother smiled. “I’m glad, Tilly. Now you can play hopscotch with Tamra at recess and you can show Mrs. Turner how well you practiced your addition last night.”
“Good-bye, Mom,” Tilly said as she kissed her mother on the cheek. “Come on, Tamra—I can’t wait to get to school today!”

We also met a faithful sister who came to New York from Haiti to be treated for cancer. During her stays, the ward council did everything it could to help her and make sure she had what she needed, including transportation to and from her treatments. We were blessed to serve and visit her during this time. We hoped for a better ending, but she passed away.
Those two experiences represent what the ward did for people—help them and lift them. We are grateful for these and other remarkable experiences.

“We were playing with a Ouija board in school one day,” said JoAnn, a Laurel in Southern California. “We kept asking questions and the board kept answering correctly. I became increasingly frightened and eventually so scared that I fled from the room. I couldn’t sleep for days. I kept waking up with nightmares. It was a horrible experience. We are told to seek for the positive in life,” she continued, “but the negative is just as powerful. By forcing all your attention and your thoughts on an object, using ritual to make the image emotional, you can easily surrender your consciousness to evil powers.”

Is this guy completely crazy?
That’s what I asked myself as I talked to Darrin Shamo at his family’s home in Hurricane, Utah.
Sure, he looks pretty normal: tall, skinny, with short blond hair. He wears glasses. You wouldn’t know from looking at him that he has an artificial leg.
But that’s not the strange part. What’s strange is that Darrin is happy. I mean extremely cheerful. His right leg is gone, but he laughs, he jokes, and he tells stories about his artificial leg while holding it in his lap.
How does he do it?
Darrin lost his right leg to cancer in June of 1991. But he hasn’t let his loss hold him back. His only regret is having to interrupt his mission to Chile, where his condition was diagnosed.
“I never wanted to leave,” he says. “I enjoyed every single day.”
But it was decided that Darrin should go home for further tests. Within an hour or two after arriving in Salt Lake City, doctors told him he definitely had a cancerous tumor on his knee.
Surely he was worried, right?
“I was a little bit scared about cancer because I didn’t know what it was,” Darrin says. “When you hear cancer, you think something really scary.”
What helped Darrin’s outlook was a little scripture reading on his plane ride to the United States from Chile. He had been reading in Alma about the Anti-Nephi-Lehis, and how they didn’t fear for their lives when the Lamanites came to attack them.
“I looked at that and I said, ‘I’m not going to fear for my life.’ I told that to people on the plane.”
After getting home, Darrin decided to maintain a positive attitude. “We had some long discussions,” says Darrin’s dad, Ronald Shamo, “and Darrin said, ‘I can approach this one of two ways. I can accept it and make the most of it, or I can be bitter. People don’t like to be around people who are complaining and unhappy. But when you’re positive and can look forward to getting better, people enjoy helping you along the way. They enjoy being with you.’”
And that has made all the difference. Darrin admits chemotherapy sickness had him depressed at times, but he even managed to conquer that. “I made sure no matter what I was doing in the hospital, I was happy. I especially enjoyed going to the fourth floor from three to five in the morning and looking at the babies.”
But Darrin’s condition required more than chemotherapy. His knee had to be removed, and doctors let him choose between joint replacement surgery and amputation just above the knee. Joint replacement would let him keep his leg, but it might leave him with little or no control over that leg because the muscles running through the joint would be cut.
With amputation, however, Darrin could get an artificial leg and soon be back to his old hobbies, like basketball, volleyball, bowling, and rappeling. Yes, rappeling. Having fun with his friends was important to Darrin, so the decision to amputate was not overly difficult. His bowling scores are down since the operation, but he’s confident that will change with practice.
What made Darrin most happy was when he learned he would be able to complete his mission. He was sent to the California Sacramento Mission and returned home this fall.
“Whenever we have a trial, there’s always something we can learn if we’re looking for it. There’s always some blessing,” Darrin says. “Cancer just made me look harder for the blessings, but they’re still always there.”
Hmmm. Maybe I exaggerated about Darrin. Maybe he’s not so crazy after all.

Opportunities often arise for religious discussions at work. Brother Robertson recently had occasion to interview a new employee. Halfway through she asked suddenly, “Are you a Mormon, sir?”

When he answered yes, she said, “Two American lads came to teach me the other day. When I said I was coming here soon, they asked me to look out for a man named Bruce Robertson. I told them you were my new boss.” This young lady now has the unique opportunity to work and learn the gospel at the same time.

On December 26, 2004, a powerful earthquake struck off the coast of Indonesia, creating a deadly tsunami that killed more than 200,000 people. It was a terrible tragedy. In one day, millions of lives were forever changed.
But there was one group of people who, although their village was destroyed, did not suffer a single casualty.
The reason?
They knew a tsunami was coming.
The Moken people live in villages on islands off the coast of Thailand and Burma (Myanmar). A society of fishermen, their lives depend on the sea. For hundreds and perhaps thousands of years, their ancestors have studied the ocean, and they have passed their knowledge down from father to son.
One thing in particular they were careful to teach was what to do when the ocean receded. According to their traditions, when that happened, the “Laboon”—a wave that eats people—would arrive soon after.
When the elders of the village saw the dreaded signs, they shouted to everyone to run to high ground.
Not everyone listened.
One elderly fisherman said, “None of the kids believed me.” In fact, his own daughter called him a liar. But the old fisherman would not relent until all had left the village and climbed to higher ground.
The Moken people were fortunate in that they had someone with conviction who warned them of what would follow. The villagers were fortunate because they listened. Had they not, they may have perished.

The second story happened this year with our present quarterback, Robbie Bosco. We were playing the University of Pittsburgh. They were preseason ranked third in the country. We were leading 3–0 in the third quarter and had a good drive going. Robbie threw a bad pass. It was intercepted and returned for a seventy-yard touchdown. Pittsburgh led 7–3. They kicked off to us, and on our second play, Robbie threw a pass that ricocheted off the shoulder of one of our receivers. It was caught by a Pittsburgh defensive back and returned to our 15-yard line. Four plays later, Pittsburgh scored and went ahead 14-3. I thought to myself, “This will be a good chance to see what Robbie is made of.” In fact, with the next possession of the ball we drove down the field and scored. And then, with three or four minutes remaining in the game, Robbie moved our team the length of the field and threw the winning touchdown pass to Adam Haysbert. Right then, I knew there was no question that Robbie was going to be a great quarterback.

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

In Holland during World War II, the Casper ten Boom family used their home as a hiding place for those hunted by the Nazis. This was their way of living out their Christian faith. Four members of the family lost their lives for providing this refuge. Corrie ten Boom and her sister Betsie spent horrific months in the infamous Ravensbrück concentration camp. Betsie died there—Corrie survived.
In Ravensbrück, Corrie and Betsie learned that God helps us to forgive. Following the war, Corrie was determined to share this message. On one occasion, she had just spoken to a group of people in Germany suffering from the ravages of war. Her message was “God forgives.” It was then that Corrie ten Boom’s faithfulness brought forth its blessing.
A man approached her. She recognized him as one of the cruelest guards in the camp. “You mentioned Ravensbrück in your talk,” he said. “I was a guard there. … But since that time, … I have become a Christian.” He explained that he had sought God’s forgiveness for the cruel things he had done. He extended his hand and asked, “Will you forgive me?”
Corrie ten Boom then said:
“It could not have been many seconds that he stood there—hand held out—but to me it seemed hours as I wrestled with the most difficult thing I had ever had to do.
“… The message that God forgives has a … condition: that we forgive those who have injured us. …
“… ‘Help me!’ I prayed silently. ‘I can lift my hand. I can do that much. You supply the feeling.’
“… Woodenly, mechanically, I thrust my hand into the one stretched out to me. As I did, an incredible thing took place. The current started in my shoulder, raced down my arm, sprang into our joined hands. And then this healing warmth seemed to flood my whole being, bringing tears to my eyes.
“‘I forgive you, brother!’ I cried. ‘With all my heart.’
“For a long moment we grasped each other’s hands, the former guard and the former prisoner. I had never known God’s love so intensely, as I did then.”6

My father had an idea that his boys ought to learn to work, and so he bought a five-acre farm which eventually grew to include more than 30 acres. We lived there in the summer and returned to the city when school started.
We had a large orchard, and the trees had to be pruned each spring. We learned a great truth—that you could pretty well determine the kind of fruit you would pick in September by the way you pruned in February. Further, we learned that new, young wood produces the best fruit. That has many applications in life.

“Nuno and Miriam, will you follow the example of Jesus Christ and be baptized next Saturday?” Sister Silva asked.
Paulo couldn’t believe his ears. The sister missionaries had just invited his 10-year-old brother and sister to be baptized!
“Yes! Yes!” the twins said happily.
Miriam couldn’t stop smiling. Nuno gave Sister Lopes a high-five. Grandmother beamed from her big red armchair in the corner.
For a few weeks the sister missionaries had been teaching Paulo and his siblings at Grandmother’s house on the green, breezy island of São Miguel—1,000 miles (1,600 km) away from mainland Portugal. Paulo loved to open the top half of Grandmother’s front door and feel the sea breeze as he watched Sister Lopes and Sister Silva walk up the street to teach him about the gospel.
The sister missionaries said today would be a special lesson. Now Paulo knew why. Nuno and Miriam were going to be baptized, just like Jesus taught! Paulo also wanted to follow the Savior’s example.
“Sisters, can I be baptized next Saturday too?” he asked eagerly, holding his illustrated Book of Mormon closer to him.
Sister Silva smiled but shook her head. “I’m sorry, Paulo. The Lord has told us that we all need to be baptized but only after we turn eight years old. Because you are only six, you aren’t accountable for your choices yet.”
“But, sisters,” Paulo objected, “I have been praying and reading the Book of Mormon with my family, like you taught me. I go to Primary every week with Grandmother and Uncle Mário. I know the Church is true! Can’t I be baptized with Nuno and Miriam?”
“You have done such a good job living the commandments and learning about the gospel,” Sister Lopes said. “But you still need to wait two years before you can be baptized.”
Paulo’s throat started to burn, and hot tears filled his eyes. He jumped up and ran to his room in the attic, where he slept with his siblings.
After crying into his pillow for a few minutes, Paulo heard someone climbing the attic stairs. Uncle Mário sat down on Paulo’s bed.
“What happened, Paulo?” Uncle Mário asked.
“Sister Silva and Sister Lopes said I can’t get baptized, but Nuno and Miriam can,” Paulo said. “I want to be a member of the Church! I love singing the hymns in sacrament meeting and learning about the scriptures in Primary. I don’t want to be left behind.”
“Paulo, you can still be a part of the Church, even though you are not old enough to be baptized,” Uncle Mário said gently.
“How?” Paulo sniffed into his pillow.
“Well, you know that the Primary is preparing a sacrament meeting program,” Uncle Mário said. “Your Primary teacher told me she is looking for volunteers to bear their testimonies in the program. That is one way you can participate in church,” Uncle Mário explained.
“Really?” Paulo sat up and faced his uncle. He thought for a minute. “Maybe I could bear my testimony at Nuno and Miriam’s baptism too!”
“That’s a great idea!” Uncle Mário said. “Even though you are too young to be baptized, you can still have a testimony.”
Paulo hopped off his bed and hurried down the stairs.
“Where are you going, Paulo?” Uncle Mário called.
“I’m going to practice bearing my testimony to the missionaries!” Paulo called back happily. “I’m going to share it while I wait to be baptized!”

Someone has said that courage is not the absence of fear but the mastery of it. At times, courage is needed to rise from failure, to strive again.

As a young teenager, I participated in a Church basketball game. When the outcome was in doubt, the coach sent me onto the playing floor right after the second half began. I took an inbounds pass, dribbled the ball toward the key, and let the shot fly. Just as the ball left my fingertips, I realized why the opposing guards did not attempt to stop my drive: I was shooting for the wrong basket! I offered a silent prayer: “Please, Father, don’t let that ball go in.” The ball rimmed the hoop and fell out.

From the bleachers came the call: “We want Monson, we want Monson, we want Monson—out!” The coach obliged.

Many years later, as a member of the Council of the Twelve, I joined other General Authorities in visiting a newly completed chapel where, as an experiment, we were trying out a tightly woven carpet on the gymnasium floor.

While several of us were examining the floor, Bishop J. Richard Clarke, who was then in the Presiding Bishopric, suddenly threw the basketball to me with a challenge: “I don’t believe you can hit the basket, standing where you are!”

I was some distance behind what is now the professional three-point line. I had never made such a basket in my entire life. Elder Mark E. Petersen of the Twelve called out to the others, “I think he can!”

My thoughts returned to my embarrassment of years before, shooting toward the wrong basket. Nevertheless, I aimed and let that ball fly. Through the net it went!

Throwing the ball in my direction, Bishop Clarke once more issued the challenge: “I know you can’t do that again!”

Elder Petersen spoke up, “Of course, he can!”

The words of the poet echoed in my heart: “Lead us, O lead us, / Great Molder of men, / Out of the shadow / To strive once again.” I shot the ball. It soared toward the basket and went right through.

That ended the inspection visit.

At lunchtime Elder Petersen said to me, “You know, you could have been a starter in the NBA.”

Several years ago, President Russell M. Nelson invited the young adults of the Church “to increase their testimony” and “learn all they can about Jesus Christ.” He asked them to spend some time each week “to study everything Jesus said and did as recorded in the standard works” using the scripture citations under the heading Jesus Christ in the Topical Guide or Guide to the Scriptures.

At that time, President Nelson had already “read and underlined every verse cited about Jesus Christ, as listed under the main heading and the 57 subtitles in the Topical Guide.” He studied over 2,200 scriptures! It took him six weeks to complete the task. When President Nelson’s wife Wendy asked him what impact studying all those scriptures had on him, he said, “I am a different man!”

Jayant loved the Church even before he became a member. He liked to listen to his uncle talk about the gospel and tell how he had been the first person from India to join the Church in Fiji.
After listening to the missionaries, Jayant asked his parents if he might join the Church. They gave their permission, and Jayant tried hard to be a missionary to his family by living the principles of the gospel and being a good example.
Before long Jayant’s father and brother were baptized, but his mother hesitated. Her grandfather had been an important Hindu priest in India, and she was worried about what her family would say if she became a Mormon. Because of the example of her son, however, she too finally joined the Church.
Now all of Jayant’s family are active in their branch in Suva, Fiji, and they know the love and joy that come from serving our Father in heaven.

Photographs courtesy of Jessica Blad
Some goals stretch you more than others. And then there are other goals that hardly seem possible at first glance.
The youth planning committee from a stake in Texas, USA, knew they were shooting for the moon on this one.
“We weren’t really sure how we were going to do it,” says Kyle O., 17, one of the young men on the planning committee for their stake’s annual stake youth conference. Even the adult leaders let out a bit of a gasp after the youth proposed their plans.
So, what was the goal? Simply this: to send out 200 youth in pairs to bear their testimony about a gospel message with 100 different nonmember or less-active families. In the families’ own homes. During a single hour.
No point in setting goals that are boring, right?
The annual two-day conference is something the youth in this stake look forward to all year. It takes a ton of planning, praying, and courage to try things that have never been done before.
Each conference starts with the youth planning committee. “We really wanted the youth to have a positive experience in sharing the gospel,” says McKenna F., 17, one of the young women on the committee.
Specifically, they hoped to provide a positive experience for those young men and young women who didn’t think they had the confidence to share the gospel with others. “We wanted to give them a taste that it really is doable,” McKenna explains.
One thing the youth committee didn’t want was 100 doors slammed in their faces. They didn’t want to spend the hour trying to find families to visit.
So they had the adults throughout the stake ask friends and neighbors if they would allow the youth to come share a testimony about Christ. In the end, 115 families accepted the invitation.
As part of preparation, full-time missionaries and other leaders provided tips and advice to the youth during the conference so that when they talked to others, they could say what was in their hearts. Many of the youth were still nervous, but they headed out anyway.
The next hour would prove to be the favorite of the entire two-day conference, hands down.
Luke E., 17, and his younger companion approached the home of their assigned family to visit. A small cross hung on the front door. “With that cross on the door, I knew they were probably a pretty faithful family,” Luke says.
Inside the home they had a great spiritual discussion with the family. Luke and his companion shared their testimony and thoughts based on Christ’s words in the Bible, “If ye love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15).
As the conversation unfolded, the couple asked a question that Luke and his younger companion hadn’t expected.
“What is the Book of Mormon?” they asked.
The adult leaders in the room remained silent in order to allow the youth to answer.
“I took this one,” Luke says. In a few minutes he explained the meaning of the title and subtitle (“Another Testament of Jesus Christ”) of the Book of Mormon, as well as a basic overview of the contents inside. He shared with them how Jesus visited and taught other nations after His Resurrection. Luke also bore testimony of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon and left them a copy.
When Luke finished answering the question, the couple was touched. They thanked everyone for coming and said, “We are grateful for young people in the world who believe something so passionately.”
For Luke, the experience was a huge boost in confidence for sharing the gospel.
“Sometimes in high school you clam up and stay quiet about spiritual things, and then you lose your confidence,” Luke says. “That day was very strengthening for me as a young man preparing to serve a mission.”
Tristan S., 17, served on the planning committee and was excited about the whole conference. But even with all that energy, he still felt a little unsure about the actual teaching experience.
“I was nervous,” Tristan says. For one thing, part of the goal with each visit was to stay and talk for at least 15 minutes. In other words, no showing up, sharing a scripture or two, and leaving within a few minutes. Sometimes 15 minutes can feel pretty long.
Tristan went with a younger companion to the home of a single man in his 30s. “We shared scriptures from Matthew about how Jesus Christ brings peace in our life,” Tristan says.
The man they were visiting added to the conversation right away as he shared his own insights and experiences. They sailed right past the 15-minute mark without noticing. By the time they reached 45 minutes, the man told them, “There’s something different about you guys.”
Tristan and his companion gave the man a card directing him to mormon.org, which he accepted gladly.
“It was an amazing experience,” Tristan says. “It’s something I’ll never forget.”
Lindsey J., 17, and her companion for the day visited a woman who’s been investigating the Church for three years. Her husband was not investigating.
The conversation with the wife was going well when, after a few minutes, her husband decided to enter the room and join in. “They were a very talkative family,” Lindsey says.
As they continued to visit, Lindsey felt a strong prompting. “Usually I’m not the kind of person to ask somebody something so direct,” she explains, “but I felt like I should ask the husband if he would be interested in going to church.”
So she did.
To Lindsey’s surprise, the husband answered that, yes, he’d like to attend even though he wouldn’t make any promises. Two Sundays later, both husband and wife came to church together. They’ve been attending ever since.
Lindsey has most enjoyed getting to know the couple better and better. “I say ‘Hi’ to them all the time,” she says. They’ve become close friends. Lindsey even brought flowers on Mother’s Day because the woman doesn’t have children of her own.
Ever since the youth conference, Lindsey has chatted with many other youth about their experiences. With each conversation, it became clearer just how much everybody enjoyed sharing testimonies about the Savior.
“A lot of the youth said that this was the best weekend of their lives,” Lindsey explains.
That one short hour of teaching was just the beginning. Some families began meeting with full-time missionaries afterward. Others attended a Church meeting for the first time, prayed, or started reading scriptures.
As for the youth who participated, they’ll never forget the experience. They also gained confidence in sharing their beliefs with others. “A lot of youth were really nervous about this,” says Kyle O. “But going out to share increased their confidence. They realized it really wasn’t that hard to open your mouth and share the gospel, to share the love of Christ.”
It just goes to show that you don’t have to be afraid to shoot for the moon when it comes to setting goals.
You might just get there.

The bus pulled into the parking lot of the hotel at 10:00 P.M. and deposited 36 nervously excited singers, a load of stage equipment, and a couple of dazed advisers who were showing the effects of a 16-hour bus ride. Inside the hotel’s ballroom Bob Hope was finishing up a few jokes while 750 Hollywood celebrities and top military officials finished their dinner. In the parking lot a few last-minute instructions were given, a prayer was offered, and on the cue of “Footprints, let’s go!” the Footprints of Freedom entered the Beverly Wilshire Hotel to entertain at the annual Air Force Ball.
The group had left Provo the night before and had not really slept since. After the show they would have six hours of sleep before the bus picked them up for the return trip to Provo. But cramped buses, lack of sleep, and a steady diet of roadside hamburgers are minor inconveniences when the Footprints have the chance to sing about America’s proud 200 years.
The performance at the Air Force Ball was a rousing success. General David C. Jones, Air Force Chief of Staff, personally came backstage after the performance to congratulate the Footprints. The group was invited to film a short segment in a movie for the Air Force, and it was nearly midnight before everyone got back to their hotel rooms. At 6:00 A.M. the bus would arrive for the return trip. There’d be another round of “Good,” “Bad,” and “Ugly” awards, another luggage rack rotation, and another 16-hour bus ride.
But it had been worth it—they had sung about America for 20 minutes. And during those 20 minutes perhaps one person had decided not to let the good land pass him by.