Gospel Story Finder

Heber J. Grant was not a good singer. His mother made him take singing lessons.
The teacher tried and tried to teach Heber to sing. Finally the teacher said, “Heber, you’ll never be able to sing!”
Years later, Heber told a friend how much he wanted to be able to sing a few Church hymns.
“It will take time and effort,” said his friend. “But, you can do it.”
Heber prayed for help. He practiced and practiced. He learned to sing the Church hymns.

I was once invited to speak at graduation services at a university. The university president had wanted President Gordon B. Hinckley to be invited but found that he was unavailable. So by default I got the invitation. I was then a junior member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
The person who invited me to speak became anxious as she learned more about my obligations as an Apostle. She called me on the phone and said that she now understood that my duty was to be a witness of Jesus Christ.
In very firm tones she told me that I could not do that when I spoke there. She explained that the university respected people of all religious beliefs, including those who denied the existence of a God. She repeated, “You cannot fulfill your duty here.”
I hung up the phone with serious questions in my mind. Should I tell the university that I would not keep my agreement to speak? It was only two weeks before the event. My appearance there had been announced. What effect would my failing to keep my agreement have on the good name of the Church?
I prayed to know what God would have me do. The answer came in a surprising way to me. I realized that the examples of Nephi, Abinadi, Alma, Amulek, and the sons of Mosiah applied to what I was. They were bold witnesses of Jesus Christ in the face of deadly peril.
So the only choice to be made was how to prepare. I dug into everything I could learn about the university. As the day of the talk grew closer, my anxiety rose and my prayers intensified.
In a miracle like the Red Sea parting, I found a news article. That university had been honored for doing what the Church has learned to do in our humanitarian efforts across the world. And so in my talk I described what we and they had done to lift people in great need. I said that I knew that Jesus Christ was the source of the blessings that had come into the lives of those we and they had served.
After the meeting the audience rose to applaud, which seemed a little unusual to me. I was amazed but still a little anxious. I remembered what happened to Abinadi. Only Alma had accepted his witness. But that night, at a large formal dinner, I heard the university president say that in my talk he heard the words of God.

“It can’t be done. It won’t work.” That’s what everyone said. But when 17-year-old Tanya Fisher took a courageous stand against an embarrassing “eyesore” in her community of Laramie, Wyoming, she made it work.
A huge retaining wall (100 feet long and 22 feet high) covered with graffiti stood at the intersection of two of the busiest streets in the city. Many efforts had been made by the city council to eradicate the graffiti. They had tried painting over it with white wash. But that encouraged youthful street artists to write on it again. Then the city council spent lots of money to have large streetlights installed hoping to deter the activity. All that did was give the artists more light to work by. It seemed to be a losing battle.
One day Tanya and her mother were chatting at the kitchen table when Tanya came up with the idea to paint a giant mural on that embarrassing retaining wall. She thought it would be a great project for the student council of Laramie High School. An ambitious idea was born that day, but to bring it to full maturity took a lot of time and energy.
Tanya fought opposition everywhere, especially with her peers. They said it wouldn’t work, that graffiti would cover the drawings immediately. But Tanya didn’t give up. During the summer of 1988 Tanya visited Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, with her family. She contacted the Anti-Graffiti Network there and gathered more information. She took pictures of a wall that had been partially painted with a mural. Interestingly enough, there was graffiti all over the unpainted part of the wall. But the mural was left untouched. This gave her hope.
After much research Tanya’s first step was to present her idea to the student council at Laramie High School. It took a written proposal and some tall talking, but she finally won their support. The second step was to get the city council’s approval. Surprisingly, she was met with enthusiasm by both the council and the mayor, and the project took hold in the summer of 1989. It had taken more than a year to get to this point.
Ryan Fulton, a counselor at Laramie High School who became the sponsor of the project, said of Tanya, “That girl ramrodded the project and spent her time researching possibilities from other walls in other cities. She wasn’t afraid to present her ideas to the city council. That’s something for a high school student.”
The theme of the mural represents the three educational institutions of the community: Laramie High School, Wyoming Technical Institute, and the University of Wyoming. It was decided that there would be no advertising involved and neither the names of the schools nor the artists would appear anywhere in the drawings. Logos of the institutions are depicted in a kind of “new wave” art according to Tanya.
With about a dozen students from the high school and another dozen from the tech school, Tanya launched her project. John Kearnes, a Wyoming Tech student, was very helpful in the design and drawing of the mural.
Tanya had already met many challenges, but as the project began she found there were many more ahead. While the paint was still wet, rain washed away the first base coat. Hail ruined the surface in places another time. Tanya described the problems with the size of the wall. “There are 29 sections, only four where you can really stand. To get to the rest of it, we had to tie ropes around our waists and hang down the wall while we put in the measurements, did the sketching and the painting.” Over 600 man-hours were spent on this project. And Tanya personally contributed 87 hours. She also used this as her Young Women values project in the Laramie First Ward, Laramie Wyoming Stake.
Tanya’s mother Darlene Fisher, says, “Months have gone by and the wall is still fine. The whole city is proud of it. My husband (Monte Fisher) and I overhear people talking about the wall, and they don’t know we’re the parents of the girl who spearheaded the project. It makes us feel so good.”
What about upkeep on this huge project? The senior class of Laramie High School has formed a committee from the student council to provide maintenance on the wall. And the city council donates the paint.
Tanya said, “Everyone said it can’t work. But I said ‘Yes it can. If it can work in Boston and Chicago, it can work in a small town like Laramie.’” And it did! One young, determined girl, with a sense of community commitment, proved it.

On September 26, 1923, a young 23-year-old aerial photographer in the United States Army was in flight over the Island of Oahu, Hawaii. He documented this picture of what the Hawaii temple looked like in 1923, just four years after the temple was completed.

He also documented in his journal personal thoughts while serving as a young 23-year-old in the army in Hawaii. This was his journal entry on Thursday, January 1, 1925. He said, "I woke up this bright sunny new year's morning in the land of liquid sunshine, Honolulu Hawaii. Had breakfast and spent the morning at the L.D.S. mission home. At noon Elder Don Nelson and I left for Luke field where we spent the afternoon looking about the field. We returned at five thirty after which I took in a movie."

I will be forever grateful for that young 23-year-old aerial photographer, Willard James Watson, my grandfather, for documenting things of his testimony for me. I never met my grandfather. In 1950, at the age of 50, he passed away, before I was born.

One day, I found his journal and began to read it. It took me into the early hours one morning. I had come to the end of his writings but could not put it down. Something told me there was more I needed to know inside. I searched the whole journal again when finally, in the very back, there was a page and part of the cover that contained a small pocket.

These certificates are just some of the things I found in that small pocket. I know he left them for me to document his life and that he had a testimony of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Karen and her cousin Amy lived more than 1,200 miles apart. Karen knew Amy needed comfort, and while she couldn’t physically be there, the missionaries in Amy’s hometown could! Karen used the referral tool to tell the missionaries in Salt Lake City, Utah, USA, about Amy. “They called me, and I explained Amy’s upbringing, current situation, and that she felt God was mad at her,” Karen says.

Before long, the sister missionaries reached out to Amy. While on the phone with her, they prayed for her. That night, sobbing, Amy called Karen to tell her about the missionaries who prayed for her. “She was so touched by their kindness,” Amy says.

Even though Amy hasn’t started attending church, she has started praying daily to Heavenly Father. Karen doesn’t know what the future holds, but she says, “Amy is coming closer to Christ.”

Several years ago, we had a harsh winter in Utah, and the snow was deep in my neighborhood. Deer wandered into my yard all winter scavenging for food. They ate the bark off of trees and mangled bushes. Once spring came, my yard was a mess.

For weeks, I pulled out damaged perennials and planted shrubs and flowers. Finally, one evening, I finished. Early the next morning, I glanced out a window and noticed dirt on the sidewalk. I had swept everything the night before, so I stepped outside for a closer look and was dumbfounded with what I saw: dozens of plants were gone. Not half-eaten, but gone.

What do you do about stolen plants? Because it looked like vandalism, I called the police to see if any other yards in the area had been damaged. They sent a policeman who began walking around the neighborhood. Within minutes he was back, motioning for me to follow him. He led me to the backyard of my neighbors, who had just moved in, and there were my brand new plants lining their patio. “I assume these are yours,” he said. When I nodded yes, he knocked on the front door.

What a way to meet the neighbors, I thought, as horrified parents quickly put two and two together. Moments later, they came marching out with the cutest little girl you’ve ever seen. Oh no, I thought, I’ve called the police on a six-year-old.

The little girl and some friends had been drawn to my yard by the flowers, and she thought they’d look nice in her yard. When they tugged on the newly planted flowers, they had come up easily. In short order, the little girl and her gang of flower-snatchers had worked their mischief.

We quickly made amends, but as I planted a new batch of flowers, I couldn’t get an obvious lesson out of my mind: the flowers came up easily because they hadn’t had time to root. So, the question: How deep are your spiritual roots? Are you rooted in the Lord and His gospel, or are you enchanted with the world? If you aren’t rooted in the gospel, the adversary will attempt to uproot you with his equivalent of a six-year-old–meaning, it won’t take much.

Elder M. Russell Ballard of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles told about a 17-year-old girl who listened to and obeyed the counsel of President Gordon B. Hinckley. Elder Ballard said: “I know a 17-year-old who, just prior to the prophet’s talk, had pierced her ears a second time. She came home from the fireside, took off the second set of earrings, and simply said to her parents, ‘If President Hinckley says we should only wear one set of earrings, that’s good enough for me.’

“Wearing two pairs of earrings may or may not have eternal consequences for this young woman, but her willingness to obey the prophet will.”

And then Elder Ballard promised, “If you will listen to the living prophet and the apostles and heed our counsel, you will not go astray.” (Ensign, May 2001, 66.)

As a teenager, I was used to attending various crusades as a Christian, and returning from one such crusade, I met my older brother with two young men. They were introduced as missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and they wanted to share the gospel of Jesus Christ with us. I asked, “What do you have that I never heard before? Is it not about the preaching of Christ?”
With a smile, they responded, “We don’t know what you know about Jesus Christ and until you hear from us, you may not know what we have for you. We have six lessons to share with you.”
They proceeded to introduce the six discussions: “One, the plan of our Heavenly Father; two, the gospel of Jesus Christ; three, The Restoration—”
I interjected, “Please pause there.”
Something spiritual struck me about the topic of the Restoration. I asked if we could discuss the topic. They declined and told me that the lessons are sequential and I had to hear lessons one and two before we can get to the third. I obliged and an appointment was scheduled.
Finally, I was taught of the Apostasy, the First Vision of the Prophet Joseph Smith, the Restoration of the priesthood, the coming forth of the Book of Mormon, and the reorganization of the Christ’s Church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.
These messages enticed me to go to church and finally, I got baptized on 28 February 1987. I taught the same messages for twenty-six months in the Nigeria Aba Mission. I have since learned three important lessons about The Restoration.
Love of God
The Restoration of Jesus Christ’s Church embodies God’s love for His children. His infinite love is not limited to a particular dispensation regardless of the fallen state of His children. Amid the general Apostasy, the unconditional love of our Father in Heaven was demonstrated once again. In 1820, the heavens once again opened and a young boy, Joseph Smith’s, prayer was answered.
“When the light rested upon me I saw two Personages, whose brightness and glory defy all description, standing above me in the air. One of them spake unto me, calling me by name, and said, pointing to the other—This is My Beloved Son. Hear Him” (Joseph Smith History—1:17)!
This vision was the beginning of Jesus Christ’s restoring His Church. The Prophet Joseph Smith was used as an instrument by the Lord to restore the Church of Jesus Christ that He organized over two millennia ago.
Jesus Christ Built His Church
The Bible taught us that Jesus Christ organized His church.
“He saith unto them, But whom say ye that I am?
“And Simon Peter answered and said, Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.
“And Jesus answered and said unto him, Blessed art thou, Simon Bar-jona: for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven.
“And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.
“And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven” (Matthew 16:15–19).
This is a clear indication that Jesus Christ organized His Church. By the revelation, Apostle Paul explained the structure of the Church.
“Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellow citizens with the saints, and of the household of God;
“And are built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner stone;” (Ephesians 2:19–20).
Even though Jesus Christ Himself is the chief cornerstone, apostles and prophets were integral parts of the structures of the church to minister for the perfecting of the Saints and to avoid mingling the gospel of Christ with the doctrines of men.
“And he gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers;
“For the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ:” (Ephesians 4:11–12).
Jesus Christ told His disciples that they would be killed after His Ascension. (See John 16:1–4, Acts 12:1–3.) The martyrdom of the Apostles led to a dark age, the Apostasy that resulted in the priesthood being taken away. (See Amos 8:11–12, 2 Thessalonians 2:3.)
The Priesthood and Associated Keys.
Because Jesus Christ organized His church, He has to commission people to act on His behalf through the power of the priesthood. Jesus Christ called the Twelve Apostles, empowered them with the priesthood, and commissioned them to proclaim His gospel. (See John 15:16.) Almost two hundred years ago, the light of Christ overshadowed the dark age. Heavenly messengers, Peter, James, and John conferred the priesthood on the Prophet Joseph Smith, followed up with the various keys of the priesthood by Moses, Elias, and Elijah.
The Prophet Joseph Smith said, “The Melchizedek Priesthood . . . is the channel through which all knowledge, doctrine, the plan of salvation, and every important matter is revealed from heaven.”
On 6 April 1830, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints was organized, and Jesus Christ restored His Church. President Russell M. Nelson made this spiritually insightful statement “consider how your life would be different if priesthood keys had not been restored to the earth. Without priesthood keys, you could not be endowed with the power of God. Without priesthood keys, the Church could serve only as a significant teaching and humanitarian organization but not much more. Without priesthood keys, none of us would have access to essential ordinances and covenants that bind us to our loved ones eternally and allow us eventually to live with God.
“Priesthood keys distinguish The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints from any other organization on earth. Many other organizations can and do make your life better here in mortality. But no other organization can and will influence your life after death.”
I testify that Jesus Christ has restored His Church and that is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and the restored gospel has been a blessing to my family.

“Mom, Jimmy took my crayons again and broke one.” Janie bolted into the kitchen, where Mom was loading the dishwasher, and angrily stamped her foot. “I wish I didn’t have a little brother!”
“Now, honey, I know you’re upset. But is that the way to talk? I’m sure that Jimmy didn’t mean to break your crayon.”
“But I told him to leave my things alone, and he took them, anyway. I already warned him, Mom. Now I’m going to break one of his toys!”
Janie’s mom pulled out a chair for her daughter. “Let’s talk about this first. What do you think the Savior would do?”
Last week in Primary, Janie had learned that Jesus Christ told people to forgive one another and to be kind to those who hurt you. She sat down and folded her arms defiantly. “Well, He said to forgive someone who does something mean to you. I already did that. I forgave Jimmy for getting into my stuff and told him to keep out of my room forever. He didn’t Mom. He’s wrecking all my stuff, and now he has to learn a lesson.”
“Let’s get out the scriptures and see exactly what Jesus said about forgiveness.” Mom left the kitchen a moment and returned with a Bible. She thumbed through the pages, then handed the Bible to Janie, indicating a verse highlighted in yellow. “Here it is.”
Quietly Janie read the scripture, then said aloud, “It says to forgive seventy times seven. That’s way too many times. It isn’t fair at all.” Janie handed the Bible back to her mom.
“Wouldn’t you want the Savior to forgive you more than once? Think about it.” Mom put the Bible down. “Maybe you could try teaching Jimmy how to take care of things. Jesus Christ said to do good to those who offend you—even your enemies.”
Slowly Janie stood. OK, she thought. I’ll forgive him seventy times seven. But then he’s really going to get it! She went to her bedroom and sat down at her desk. On a piece of scratch paper, she multiplied seventy times seven. “Four hundred and ninety times!” she exclaimed, dismayed. She opened a notebook and wrote “Number of times I’ve forgiven Jimmy” on the top of the first page. Underneath, she made two slashes. “That’s two,” she said aloud. “Only four hundred and eighty-eight to go.”
Later that evening she found Jimmy looking at one of her favorite books. He wasn’t being very careful and had ripped a page while turning it. Angry, Janie grabbed the book and glared at him. Jimmy scuttled backward, fear in his eyes. “Don’t hit me, Janie,” he pleaded.
Remembering her resolve to forgive Jimmy, she gritted her teeth and said, “I’m not going to hit you, even though you took my book without asking.” Then, remembering she was supposed to do something nice, she added, “Do you want me to read it to you?”
Jimmy was astonished, but he smiled happily. “Oh, yes!”
After reading the book to Jimmy, Janie didn’t feel so angry. In fact, she decided to read it to him again because he seemed to enjoy it so much. Before she went to bed that night, she got out the notebook and made another slash. “That’s three,” she said.
The next day Jimmy was an even bigger pest than usual. But instead of acting in anger, Janie always did something nice for her brother and tried to teach him the right way to do things. When she got out her notebook that night before bed, she made eight more slashes. “That’s eleven,” she sighed. “Only four hundred and seventy-nine to go.”
“Jimmy! Get off my bike!” Janie shrieked the next morning. Jimmy was so startled that he toppled over onto the driveway. He was just learning how to ride a two-wheeler and wasn’t very good yet.
“You’re supposed to be riding my old bike,” Janie said, helping him up. “Why are you using my new birthday bike?”
“I can’t go very fast on that old squeaky bike,” Jimmy whined. “Please don’t be mad at me. I was trying not to hurt it.”
Janie sighed and dusted her brother off. “Well, my new bike won’t do you much good. It’s so big that you can’t reach the pedals if you sit on the seat. Let’s see if Dad can oil the other one.”
The old bike was soon oiled, and Janie and Jimmy rode together around the neighborhood.
After dinner, Janie told Jimmy, “I’m drawing a picture for Grandma. Do you want to draw one with me?” Jimmy nodded enthusiastically. I might as well ask him, Janie thought. He’d just get into my crayons, anyway.
It was Friday night, so Janie was allowed to stay up later. Her friend Kacey came over, and they played with dolls for a while. Then they decided to play a board game. Jimmy asked if he could play with them. Before Janie could answer, Mom said, “It’s time for bed, Jimmy.”
“Aw, Mom,” Jimmy complained. “It isn’t fair. I want to play too.” Frustrated, he jumped to his feet, accidentally knocking the game over.
“Jimmy,” Mom told him, “you need to apologize to your sister.”
“It’s OK, Mom,” Janie said. “He didn’t mean to.” Turning to Jimmy, she asked, “How about if Kacey and I read you a story before you go to bed?”
Happily Jimmy agreed. He listened to the story, then hugged his sister, waved good night to Kacey, and went to bed without a fuss.
Saturday was cleaning day. While organizing her desk, Janie picked up her notebook and stared at it thoughtfully. Finally she opened it and ripped out a page.
Later, as Mom picked up the trash from the bedrooms, the word Jimmy caught her eye. Curious, she took the paper from the wastepaper basket and smoothed it out. “Number of times I’ve forgiven Jimmy,” it said. A couple dozen slashes were underneath.
Just then, Janie walked into the room and saw Mom looking at the wrinkled page. Smiling sheepishly at her mother, she said, “I guess I don’t need that anymore. It’s funny, but Jimmy doesn’t seem as annoying as he used to.”

Like Tino, Quim served a mission in Portugal. When Harold Hillam, president of the Portugal Lisbon Mission, told Quim, “Brother Moreira, you’re going to be a missionary,” Quim replied: “How? I have no money, my parents aren’t members, and I’ll have to quit my studies.” But the mission president insisted that he must be prepared to go on a mission in a few months, and Quim continued to pray, asking the Lord how it could be done.
One night, in a dream, he saw himself dressed as a missionary, leaving home with his suitcases, and he awoke knowing that it would happen. Financial help was found through the Church, and Joaquim Moreira left school to accept the call. That is a very important decision in Portugal, for it is difficult to gain readmission to a university.

One convert, Special Constable Frankie Png, joined the Church a little over a year ago. He says, “At first, my associates tried to make me feel uncomfortable. But I always try to be patient and encourage them to live better lives. I also encourage my Muslim friends to live their religion more fully. Most respect my beliefs now.” Because of his fine example, his mother and brother were recently baptized.

My husband and I raised our children in the gospel. We had family scripture study every morning, family prayer, and weekly family home evening. We attended church, ate dinner together, and went on family vacations. Our children regularly attended the temple to perform baptisms for the dead, they graduated from seminary, and two of them served missions.
And then as adults, they started exploring paths and ideas that were different from the things we had taught them. One by one, our children stopped participating in the Church until only one of our five children still chose to attend. We shed many tears over our children and wondered if we had failed as parents or if there was something we could have done differently.
For a long time, we pled with the Lord to change their hearts, and finally the Lord answered our prayers. But not in the way we expected.
Instead of simply changing our children’s hearts, He showed us that we needed to start by changing our own hearts. While parents play an important role in teaching their children, He reminded us that Jesus Christ is their Savior and Judge.
In my determination to save my children, I had spent many hours praying, reading my scriptures, and going to the temple, thinking that if I did all of the right things, I would qualify for God’s intervention—as if somehow my actions would lead God to override their agency and force them to believe as I do.
My husband and I wanted so badly to save them, but our version of saving looked more like lecturing, nagging, or showing disapproval of their choices, which ultimately led to contention. We realized that in our desperation to bring our children back, we were actually driving them away. The more they felt our judgment and disappointment, the more they avoided us.
My prayers changed to a plea for my own heart to be changed. I realized that my reasons for wanting my children to change came from the wrong place. I prayed for more love. I also prayed to overcome my feelings of shame and embarrassment that my family didn’t look anything like the perfect families my friends displayed on social media with photos from their children’s temple marriages or grandchildren’s baptisms.
As I turned to the Savior for healing, my heart began to soften toward my children. I realized that to love them as He loves them meant making some changes. To Him, love wasn’t a method—it was the motivation that drove everything He did. He said He didn’t do “anything save it be for the benefit of the world; for he loveth the world” (2 Nephi 26:24).
Trusting in the Savior’s ability to do His work (see 2 Nephi 27:20) allowed me to focus on loving my children and turning the saving over to the Lord. It didn’t mean giving up on trying to help them, but when loving them became the driving force behind my interactions with them, it changed how I interacted.
I started to see them in a different light. I began focusing on their strengths and their talents and began to see what loving, generous, intelligent, and good people they were.
My husband and I listened more and talked less. We asked questions about their lives and their interests. Instead of judgment, we showed curiosity. We replaced criticism and disappointment with expressions of love, and our children could feel that it was genuine.
Our home became a place where they could feel love and acceptance. They stopped hiding things from us and started being honest and open about what was going on in their lives. We grew closer.
Our family is still a work in progress, but our children enjoy coming to our home and spending time with us now. They feel safe in our presence, and through our love I hope they can feel God’s love for them. I don’t know if in this lifetime they will return to the things they were taught as children, but I know that they are in the Savior’s hands.

When Richard Moyer lost his job, he and his family ate food from their home storage, paid bills using their savings, and continued to pay tithing faithfully. Despite his unemployment, Brother Moyer was amazed to see that he made exactly U.S. $1.00 more income that year than the previous one. “I have always attributed that miracle in our lives to paying tithing,” Brother Moyer explains. “The Lord always blesses you when you do the things He wants you to do.”
President N. Eldon Tanner (1898–1982) of the First Presidency taught that tithing is a commandment with a promise: “As you discharge this obligation to your Maker, you will find great, great happiness, the like of which is known only by those who are faithful to this commandment.”2 Obedience to this commandment brings peace and security. As Church members pay tithes and offerings they will experience miracles in their lives, as the Moyer family did.

Like some of you, I know what it is to face disappointment and youthful humiliation. As a boy, I played team softball in elementary and junior high school. Two captains were chosen, and then they, in turn, selected the players they desired on their teams. Of course, the best players were chosen first, then second and third. To be selected fourth or fifth was not too bad, but to be chosen last and relegated to a remote position in the outfield was downright awful. I know. I was there.

How I hoped that the ball would never be hit in my direction, for surely I would drop it, runners would score, and teammates would laugh.

As though it were just yesterday, I remember the moment when all that changed in my life. The game started out as I have described: I was chosen last. I made my sorrowful way to the deep pocket of right field and watched as the other team filled the bases with runners. Two batters then went down on strikes. Suddenly, the next batter hit a mighty drive. The ball was coming in my direction. Was it beyond my reach? I raced for the spot where I thought the ball would drop, uttered a silent prayer as I ran, and stretched forth my cupped hands. I surprised myself. I caught the ball! My team won the game.

This one experience bolstered my confidence, inspired my desire to practice, and led me from that last-to-be-chosen place to become a real contributor to the team.

When I was single, it seemed like engaged girls with sparkly diamond rings loved to show them off so everyone would know how much their husband paid for them. It’s like in the film Johnny Lingo, where islanders are shocked when Johnny buys his wife with eight cows instead of the typical three or four. I couldn’t wait until I got the chance to wave around an “eight cow” ring of my own.

But if you judge me by the plain, thin, silver-colored ring I currently wear, you’d think my husband was a cheapskate. Actually my husband worked for months so I could have a beautiful ring. Unfortunately, it was an uninsured beautiful eight-cow ring … and I flushed it down the toilet.

We’d only been married for two weeks, and I’d already formed the habit of carefully pulling off my ring and placing it safely in a little box above the sink each time I washed my hands. I didn’t want to run the risk of tainting my ring’s sparkle with soap scum buildup. As I pulled it off one Saturday morning, the pressure built, and it popped right off my knuckle. I watched in disbelief as my lovely ring sailed straight for the toilet and hit the open bowl dead center, just as it finished flushing.

I screamed. I cried. I tried to jump in after it, but grown women just don’t fit in toilet bowls no matter how desperate the circumstances. My poor husband took the toilet apart for me, stuck his whole arm down the sludge hole, and felt around for the ring. We called every person in town that had anything to do with the sewer system and pleaded our case.

“Lady, your line is connected to the largest high pressure pipe in the city. Your ring is long gone,” I was told. In one swift swirl of water, my ring was gone forever.

Over the next few days, I became understandably depressed. My marriage preparation classes hadn’t covered crises of the flushing variety. I worried I’d ruined my chances for a happy marital relationship. After all, my husband had insisted on buying me a nice ring because the sacrifice it would take for him to be able to buy it would represent his love for me. Now I’d flushed the symbol of his love down the toilet.

I was telling my husband for the 42nd time how oafish I was and how sorry I was that he’d worked so hard for something I’d clumsily lost. He took me by the shoulders, looked me in the eyes, and said, “Please stop, Arianne. I don’t care about the ring. I didn’t do all that work for some sparkly rock. I did it for you, and I’d do it all over again a hundred times if you wanted me to. You’re worth more than all the diamonds in the world. I love you.”

My husband’s comforting words and warm embrace that day made me realize how silly I’d been acting. The ring was gone, but everything it symbolized still exists.

So even though I still punish the toilet with a hard kick from time to time, I’ve learned to focus on what’s most important. And that’s not how much my husband spent on me but how much he loves me. My husband insists he’ll get me a new ring someday. But I’m not sure I want one. Every time I look at my thin little ring, I remember what real love is. It doesn’t sparkle, it can’t be shown off, and thank goodness, it can’t be flushed down a toilet.

Sybil Ferguson is at present a business executive. As a young woman she had no plans for a professional career and was married right after high school. She spent a number of years raising a family, and after about 20 years of marriage she experienced the blahs of middle age. She was overweight, she didn’t like her appearance, and she didn’t feel very good about herself. She read a lot of books and developed a weight-loss program that worked for her. People were curious as to how she’d accomplished this feat, and so she shared her program with others. Finally, she opened a diet center in her home. That center was so successful she decided to franchise the program in other cities. After 12 years, her organization has 1,500 diet centers throughout the United States. This experience changed Sybil’s life. She has become a confident executive who does a lot of public speaking and has written a bestseller on losing weight.

Susan was eight years old. She had just been baptized. She was playing out in the yard with her sisters and some friends, and she went into the house to get a drink of water. Her mother said, “Susan, dinner’s ready. Will you please call your sisters to eat?” So she went to the door and called to them.
They really didn’t want to go in, so they argued and said, “Oh, no, it isn’t time for dinner. You are just teasing us.” And they accused her of not telling the truth.
Well, she gathered herself up in all of her eight-year-old dignity, put her hands on her hips, and said, “It is dinnertime. I’m telling you the truth, and you can believe me because I have been baptized.”
She knew that her baptism required of her a certain standard of behavior. Her choice was that she would tell the truth, and she was willing to commit to that.

While serving as an assistant chaplain in the Maricopa County Jail system in Arizona, USA, I would visit and share a scripture and prayer with detainees who requested a Latter-day Saint chaplain. On one occasion a young woman made such a request.
I went to her area of the jail, which was behind several locked doors. The reception area had two cafeteria-style tables with a bench on each side and one desk with a guard. I gave the guard the request slip, slid onto one of the benches, and waited for the young woman.
I arose as she entered the reception area, greeted her, and suggested we sit at the table. She looked sad and unkempt and was on the verge of tears. As she discussed her situation, I considered what scripture I would share. I listened carefully to her concerns, and as she disclosed the difficulties she had had with various compulsive behaviors and poor choices, I thought of the perfect scripture to help her: Mosiah 3:19.
I opened the Book of Mormon to Mosiah 3:19, pushed it toward her, and asked her to read. She seemed a little disgruntled at first and began reading in a fast, singsong voice that seemed to express annoyance at being asked to read a scripture. As she finished the first phrase, “For the natural man is an enemy to God,” I interrupted to explain the meaning of “natural man.” When she understood the reference, she continued to read. Her voice gradually changed tone, and she slowed down as the words began to make sense to her.
When she started to read the list of childlike attributes of “a saint,” she slowed down even more. I could tell she was absorbing the meaning of each attribute listed in the verse. When she read “submissive, meek, humble, patient,” I began to feel the Spirit all around us. As she read the words “full of love, willing to submit,” I witnessed a change in her. Her face brightened and her attitude, tone of voice, and general manner seemed affected by the Spirit. I could see hope as she was taught by the Spirit what these words meant to her and how she should make the changes described in the scripture.
I said a prayer and then shook the young woman’s hand warmly. I left the jail on a spiritual high. I had never before seen such an immediate, powerful, magnificent effect from the scriptures. I knew Mosiah 3:19 because I have frequently encountered it while reading the scriptures, but never before had I understood the depth of the impact it could have on someone.

That night at the priesthood session, the Chile stadium was full. Young Mario and I were seated just forty meters from the prophet. The spirit of the occasion was so wonderful that tears again filled my eyes to think of the great blessings our sacrifice had brought. I was contemplating our marvelous experience when I noticed that Mario was missing. I looked quickly around, but young Mario was nowhere to be found.
Very frightened, I turned toward the prophet, as if seeking comfort. There was Mario, greeting the prophet and shaking his hand in a gesture of love. Then Mario ran toward me, weeping for joy. “Look at my hand,” he said. “It touched the prophet of God.” He had slipped past the guards protecting President Kimball.
Today, eight years later, Mario is an engineering student at the university. He is a leader in the Church and is preparing to serve a mission. “As long as I live, I will remember that I shook the prophet’s hand,” he says. “It is the love of our Heavenly Father for all of us, especially our family, that gives me the courage to serve the Lord full-time.”

Rebecca Johnson, blonde and 17, checked off a long list. Everything was nearly ready for the seminary pageant in Cardston, Alberta, Canada: the sets, the props, the music, the costumes, the actors—well, almost all of the actors. Rebecca winced when she looked down at the cast list. Tracy Watson, who played the lead female role of Lucy Mack Smith, was sick. The pageant was scheduled to open the following night, and there wasn’t time for a replacement to learn Tracy’s part.
“When I walked in that night,” Tracy later explained, “Brother Wilcox took one look at me and asked what was wrong.
“I was really sick. I told him I felt weak, that I was drained. He asked if I was going to make it through the pageant. I just didn’t know.
“‘You might just have to find a new Lucy Mack,’ I said.”
Tracy paused in telling the story, her eyes moist.
“Then Brother Wilcox and another Melchizedek Priesthood holder gave me a blessing.
“During the blessing I had a good feeling come over me. It’s hard to explain. I didn’t feel weak anymore. I felt strong.”
The following night the pageant opened its first performance that year in the Cardston Second and Third wards’ cultural hall. After months of work, preparation, and study, the cast and crew of over 100 seminary students were ready, including Tracy.
An opening prayer was said. The house lights dimmed. From high up on scaffolds light crews flooded a corner of the hall with bright spots. A piano started playing softly in the background. Two narrators, playing checkers, introduced the audience to the story.
“Why that’s an old revival song! Those camp meetings, remember those days?”
“Yes, that’s how it was when the Church got started, wasn’t it?”
One of the narrators rose, picked up a coat and an old Bible, moved toward a camp scene on the stage, and sat in the congregation.
“As I recall,” the narrator said, “it was in about 1820 in upper New York State when it all began.”
The preacher in front of the congregation came suddenly to life, bringing his fist down hard on the pulpit, and began to preach a fiery sermon. The Smith family was in the congregation.
It was the prelude to Joseph Smith’s first vision and the beginning of the Restoration. The pageant dramatized early Church history, moving from the First Vision, to the publishing of the Book of Mormon, to the Kirtland period, and finally to Carthage Jail, and was centered around the life of Joseph Smith.
Don Schiedler, who played the role of Brigham Young, later explained the purpose of the pageant and its dramatization of Church history. “We take what we learn in seminary and put it into action in the pageant,” he said. “When you put history or the scriptures into a play, it brings it to life. Portraying just a small part of what Brigham Young did is something I’ll remember all of my life.”
Besides studying the historical background for the pageant in seminary classes, the members of the cast were asked to do outside research on the characters they played. This extra involvement in the characterization of great men in Church history had a strong effect on several of the students.
After a performance Marlin Hogg talked of his role as Hyrum Smith. “It’s a good feeling,” he said, “to put yourself in the place of such a great man.”
Marlin stopped and loosened his tie that had been styled after one popular during the 1800s.
“I never realized until the pageant that the things Hyrum and Joseph endured together were incredible. While playing Hyrum’s part I tried to feel some of the courage and faith he had to have to endure the jails and persecution—what he must have gone through. I had to build myself up to reach his stature, even just a part of it. You can’t try to feel what he felt and be what he was and not be changed by it.”
Jack Stone, who was in charge of the first seminary pageant several years ago in Cardston, told of another student who had been changed by the annual event.
“One student,” Brother Stone said, “who had become inactive and dropped out of seminary, asked to be in the pageant at the last minute. We had a few extra costumes and there were several crowd scenes, so we put him in those. That year the pageant was on the Book of Mormon. As we sang the finale, the entire cast came down on the stage. It was the part in the Book of Mormon where Christ visits the people in America after his resurrection. We sang ‘I Know That My Redeemer Lives.’ It was a touching scene. I remember looking over at the boy and seeing tears stream down his cheeks. He’d been changed because of his involvement.”
Members of the cast and crew are not the only ones affected by the pageant. The students involved this year created enough interest in Church history for a special adult class to be held in the seminary, and the pageant played to a full house at all three of its performances.
Rod Brandham, Porter Rockwell in the pageant, told of this year’s pageant’s effect on him and on the audiences it played to.
“The pageant is centered around the Prophet Joseph Smith and the sacrifices he made for the gospel. When you’re on the stage during the scenes where he is persecuted and jailed, and especially after his death at Carthage, you can hear some of the audience crying and it almost makes you cry. You have to fight hard to hold it inside until the performance is over, until the final song.”
Rod hesitated, clearing his throat.
“I love that man for what he did.”
At the end of every performance, the entire cast came on stage and sang “Praise to the Man” as a tribute to the man whose greatness and courage some of the students had discovered or rediscovered in the pageant. After the second verse, the audience joined in the singing, and there were few dry eyes.