Gospel Story Finder

Resting on the stone steps of the ancient ruins of Dzibilchaltún in Mexico, Sandra Hernández and Meily Tolosa quietly consider the scattered ruins of a city nearly 1,500 years old. The silence around them is almost as heavy as the humid tropical air. But the peaceful moment doesn’t last long.
The silence shatters as Samuel Hernández comes hooting and hollering out of the thick jungle, which grows right up to the edge of the small pyramid. His friends Jorge Tolosa and Wilbert Agosta follow right behind him.
“Oh, I thought I was going to die,” he laughs as he throws himself down onto the steps and tries to catch his breath. Picking their way through the jungle, Samuel and his friends had been making their way toward a partially overgrown structure when they startled a flock of hidden birds. The birds weren’t the only ones startled. “Oh, my heart,” Samuel says, laughing.
Samuel, Meily, and other youth from the Canek Ward, Mérida México Centro Stake, are spending the day exploring some of Mexico’s ancient ruins. Dzibilchaltún is just one of the thousands of crumbling settlements left throughout the Americas by ancient inhabitants.
The land from central Mexico to Honduras (also called Mesoamerica) has been home to many thriving civilizations. On this trip to Dzibilchaltún, the youth are grateful that ruins of some of their ancestors’ cities have been preserved so they can explore where their ancestors lived. “It’s interesting to learn what my ancestors did and what happened to them,” says Jorge, a deacon.
In the same way, these youth are thankful that the record of the family of Lehi has been preserved so they can learn from its teachings and experiences. “I’m grateful the Lord preserved the Book of Mormon for us to learn from,” Jorge says.
Many Nephite prophets, such as Nephi, Enos, and Mormon, prayed that the Lord would preserve their testimonies of Jesus Christ to help their descendants (see 2 Ne. 25:21; Enos 1:16–18; W of M 1:8).
As He promised, the Lord preserved their records and brought them to light again through the Prophet Joseph Smith. Now the Book of Mormon is bringing the descendants of Book of Mormon peoples—and other people from all around the world—to Jesus Christ.
“I’m so grateful for the Book of Mormon,” says Carmen Hernández, a Mia Maid who hopes to thank the Book of Mormon prophets someday. “When I meet them,” she says, “I will say, ‘Thank you for helping so many people find answers and come to Christ.’” (See 2 Ne. 33:11; Jacob 6:13; Ether 12:38.)
While the testimonies of Christ recorded in the Book of Mormon were preserved by the hand of the Lord against the ravages of time, the ancient cities of Mesoamerica haven’t fared as well. Time, the elements, and other factors have reduced some of the once-great civilizations to rubble.
Still, the youth—such as the group from the Canek Ward—enjoy visiting the ruins and imagining them bustling with people and wondering what it was like back then.
“It’s awesome to see structures like those the people of the Book of Mormon may have built and lived in,” Carmen says.
Through their studies in seminary and Sunday School, the youth of the Canek Ward are trying to build testimonies of Christ that won’t crumble and decay like the ruins around them.
“As we’ve studied the Book of Mormon, my love for the book and my testimony of the Savior have grown,” says Carmen.
According to these youth, another major factor in strengthening their testimonies of Christ is going to the temple.
Many tourists come to southern Mexico—dubbed “the land of temples”—to explore the ancient ruins called “temples” because of their apparent religious uses. But for all the ancient temples surrounding them, the youth of Mexico are most excited about having their own Latter-day Saint temples—where they will make covenants with God and be married for all eternity.
One of these is the Mérida México Temple, completed in July 2000. It is only a 10- or 15-minute drive from where the youth in the Canek Ward live.
“Everyone was so excited to find out we were going to get a temple,” says Ismael Herrera, a priest. “Before, we had to travel to Mexico City.”
The youth had made the trip to the Mexico City temple to perform baptisms for the dead, but that temple is located more than 16 hours away.
“Our temple is so close,” says Jorge. “There are so many more opportunities to go.”
“In all the times we’ve been able to go to the Mérida temple, we could have gone to the Mexico City temple only once or twice,” agrees Carmen. “Having a temple here allows us to help a lot more people.”
Whenever the Lord has had a people, He has commanded them to build temples (see D&C 124:39). In the Book of Mormon, Nephi and his followers built a temple soon after leaving the families of Laman and Lemuel (see 2 Ne. 5:16). King Benjamin taught his people at a temple (see Mosiah 1:18). Alma and Amulek taught in temples (see Alma 16:13). And Christ appeared to the people gathered at the temple in Bountiful (see 3 Ne. 11:1).
These Mexican youth have read about the temples of the Nephites. They’ve visited the ruins of ancient temples. Now they have a dedicated temple in their own area. They love going to their modern temple. It’s peaceful. It’s quiet.
Like the ruins of ancient temples, it seems untouched by the outside world. But in this temple, they can feel something they don’t feel anywhere else.
“This is the house of the Lord,” says Jorge.
239 chapters in the Book of Mormon
77 verses in the longest chapter, Jacob 5
2 verses in the shortest chapters, 3 Nephi 30 and Moroni 5
3,925 references to the Savior in the Book of Mormon, or one reference every 1.7 verses
5,000 copies of the Book of Mormon made in the first printing (March 1830)
108,936,922 copies printed from 1830 to 2002
103 languages in which all or part of the Book of Mormon is available
1,353 times the phrase “it came to pass” appears in the Book of Mormon
As members of the Church all over the world study the Book of Mormon this year in Sunday School, each of us can gain, or renew, our testimony of the book’s truthfulness through prayer (see Moro. 10:3–4).
President Gordon B. Hinckley has said: “Without reservation I promise you that if you will prayerfully read the Book of Mormon, regardless of how many times you previously have read it, there will come into your homes an added measure of the Spirit of the Lord. There will come a strengthened resolution to walk in obedience to his commandments, and there will come a stronger testimony of the living reality of the Son of God” (“The Power of the Book of Mormon,” Ensign, June 1988, 6).

by Terri Jensen
When selected chapels in your stake are only ten minutes from the Bull Run battlefield of Civil War fame, 20 minutes from George Washington’s Mount Vernon, and 30 minutes from Washington, D.C., it’s only natural that your stake roadshows would bear the theme, “What’s More American?”
And for the newly formed Fairfax Virginia Stake, they did.
On March 16 and 17, 176 youths paraded up aisles to open their first annual roadshows with just that question. They carried with them 176 possible answers in the form of corn flake boxes, toothpaste tubes, footballs, baseball gloves, Christmas tree decorations, American flags, rock albums, peanut butter jars, and an array of other paraphernalia.
“What’s More American?” was asked in song. It was answered at the song’s conclusion with a unanimous shout, “I am!”
Once it was established that there’s nothing more American than Americans, each decade of our 20th century was introduced with narration and slides made from authentic pictures of the period. Among the 76 slides shown were the Wright Brothers’ first flight, Henry Ford’s Model T, and Scarlett O’Hara’s Tara.
Each ward roadshow was developed around a decade and immediately followed its slide introduction. Wakefield Ward opened the century with Teddy Roosevelt frantically searching for his missing daughter, Alice. Even the Pinkertons were called in to assist. But it all ended happily with Alice’s lavish wedding to Mr. Longworth. Manassas Ward brought 1910–1920 alive with the suffragette movement.
The 1920s gave Fairfax Ward a story line that included everything from crashing airplanes to flappers and gangsters. Charlie McCarthy, Edgar Bergen, and Shirley Temple were among those who helped Americans through the “Hard-Time 30s.” Prince William Ward brought them all to life with lavish imagination and costumes.
Warrenton Branch introduced the ’40s with a wartime laboratory that was trying to split the atom but ended up inventing the milk shake. Stuffing phone booths, doodling, and viewing 3-D movies didn’t make much sense to “square” Freddie of the 1950s. Woodbridge Ward showed Freddie finally finding someplace where he could excel so he was no longer considered a square. Fancy Foot Freddie and Boogie Woogie Betty ended the decade with a swinging rendition of the jitterbug.
The curtain closed. The combo began playing. Once again the Fairfax Stake young people marched up the aisles and began singing, “What’s More American?”
To accompany their singing, slides of the most American thing around were flashed on two large walls: The young people themselves were featured. They were hiking, laughing, running, playing, working, singing, picnicking, camping, painting, practicing, listening, serving, learning, wondering, stretching, yelling, swimming, eating, dancing, and praying.
After it was all over, church members may have driven past Bull Run, Mount Vernon, and Washington, D.C., on their journeys home. But the most American things in this area were still at the Fairfax chapel removing make-up and costumes.

When I was 12, we moved near Pendleton, Oregon, a city of 7,000 people. For the first time I lived in a ward. A couple of years later, my father was called to the high council of the Union Stake. He served in the stake presidency for more than 12 years.
During my teenage years, I traveled with him to high council or stake presidency assignments. We’d get up early on Sunday morning and drive some distance to his assignment. As we drove, he taught me the gospel. He had great gospel knowledge. I have found that I usually know the right answer to gospel doctrine questions because I was raised in a home where the gospel was understood and taught correctly.

To illustrate the vital role of parents and leaders as mentors, let me tell you a story. Chloe was called to serve as a class president. Her wise priesthood leader encouraged her to seek the Lord’s help in recommending names for her presidency. Chloe prayed and received inspiration for whom to recommend as her counselors rather quickly. As she continued to ponder and pray about a secretary, the Spirit repeatedly drew her focus to a young woman who surprised her—someone who rarely came to church or activities.

Feeling a little insecure with the prompting, Chloe talked with her mother, who explained that one of the ways we can receive revelation is through recurring thoughts. With renewed confidence, Chloe felt she could recommend this young woman. The bishop extended the call, and the young woman accepted. After being set apart, this sweet secretary said, “You know, I’ve never felt as though I had a place or was needed anywhere. I didn’t feel I fit in. But with this calling, I feel as though Heavenly Father has a purpose and a place for me.” As Chloe and her mother left the meeting, Chloe turned to her mother and said, with tears in her eyes, “Revelation is real! Revelation really works!”

There was once a young man who did not understand the importance of practicing the piano. When his parents insisted, he practiced. He wasn’t always happy about it, but always obeyed. Later in his life, while sharing his musical talent, his mother helped him see how practicing the piano blessed him and others. Practicing now is like preparing for better things yet to come. The challenge is to see the future benefits of our actions.

Maria Edilene Romão had lost hope. She couldn’t find a job, she was a single mother, and she had several children to feed.
That’s when two members of her ward in Santa Catarina, Brazil, invited her to a self-reliance devotional. At the end of the devotional, Maria joined a group to help her find a job.
“For the first time in my life, I believed in a future where I could take care of my family,” she remembers. “I believed that the self-reliance group was going to help me change my life.”
It did.
During the next 12 weeks, Maria dedicated herself to her group, her studies, and her commitments. She worked with newfound energy toward her goals. She practiced job-interviewing techniques. Within two weeks, she secured a promising job interview. That interview landed her a job.
“My life is changed forever,” says Maria, who no longer struggles to feed her family. “Now I am happy, excited, patient, and hopeful. I believe that Heavenly Father lives and loves me. I know that when I exercise my faith in Jesus Christ, I am blessed.”

In reality, that kind of precision often requires mastery of some pretty complex technology on a modern bow. You start coming across terms like stabilizer, sight, clicker, and more. “My friends are sometimes shocked at all the gear,” says LaNola P., a 17-year-old from California with a true talent for archery. “It’s a lot harder than you would think.”
LaNola has been involved in archery since she was six years old, with her dad as her coach and shooting partner. Over the years she’s won competitions and set national archery records. Archery hasn’t been her only focus, however. She keeps the gospel at the heart of all she does, even when that means getting out of bed at 4:00 a.m. to attend 5:25 a.m. seminary. “The gospel allows me to keep things in perspective,” says LaNola. “I know my strength comes from Heavenly Father.”

Some years ago I received the appointment to attend stake conference in Grand Junction, Colorado. As the plane circled the airport amidst heavy snow, the pilot’s voice announced that it appeared our landing would not be possible, and Grand Junction would of necessity be overflown. I knew that I had been assigned to this conference by a prophet, and prayed that the weather would permit a landing. Suddenly the pilot said, “There is an opening in the cover. We’ll attempt a landing.” That phrase is always a bit frightening to any air traveler.
Our landing was accomplished safely, and the entire conference went without incident. I wondered why I in particular had been assigned there. Before I left Grand Junction, the stake president asked if I would meet with a distraught mother and father who were grieving over a son’s decision to leave his mission field after having just arrived there. When the conference throng had left, we knelt quietly in a private place—mother, father, stake president, and I. As I prayed in behalf of all, I could hear the muffled sobs of a sorrowing mother and disappointed father.
When we arose, the father said, “Brother Monson, do you really think our Heavenly Father can alter our son’s announced decision to return home before completing his mission? Why is it that now, when I am trying so hard to do what is right, my prayers are not heard?”
I responded, “Where is your son serving?” He replied,
“In Dusseldorf, Germany.”
I placed my arm around the mother and father and said to them, “Your prayers have been heard and will be answered. With more than 38 stake conferences being held this day attended by General Authorities, I was assigned to your stake. Of all the Brethren, I am the only one who has the assignment to meet with the missionaries in the Germany Dusseldorf Mission this very Thursday.”
Their petition had been honored by the Lord. I was able to meet with their son. He responded to their pleadings. He remained and completed a highly successful mission.

Amy bounced up and down in her seat.
“What are you so excited about?” Mom asked, smiling at her from the front of the car.
“It’s England Day!” Amy squealed. Mrs. Harvey’s second-grade class had been learning about countries around the world. Amy had already learned to do the Mexican hat dance and sing a song in Japanese. Today her class was having a special party with lots of English food.
“Your ancestors joined the Church in England,” Mom reminded her. “They were very brave and stood up for what they believed in.”
“Today I’ll pretend to be just like them. It’ll be fun!” Amy said happily.
When she reached her classroom, Amy stared in awe. The school chairs were arranged in a circle around a table filled with warm crumpets, lemon custard, and raspberry jam. There was even a bowl of English toffee! Amy couldn’t wait for the party to start.
But then Amy noticed something. At the back of the table, a small, blue teapot was labeled TEA. Amy felt a knot form in her stomach.
Mrs. Harvey clapped her hands for the children to settle down. “Class, take a seat!” she sang out. “Today we’re having a very special party—a tea party! In England, people drink tea and eat crumpets as a snack. Who can tell me what a crumpet is?”
Amy’s classmates eagerly raised their hands, and one explained that a crumpet is a small cake. But Amy just sat in her seat feeling sick. Tea! She knew that tea and coffee were bad for her body. A commandment in the Word of Wisdom said not to drink them. The knot in her stomach kept growing. If she refused, what would her teacher and classmates think?
Then Amy thought of a better question. What would Jesus think? What would her ancestors think? Amy remembered Mom saying her ancestors were brave people who stood up for what they believed in. They followed Jesus Christ. They had been baptized in England, the same way Amy had been baptized. She still remembered that warm, clean feeling from her baptism, and how she always wanted to choose the right.
Slowly the knot loosened, and she knew what she had to do.
When Mrs. Harvey came to pour her some tea, Amy put her hand over the cup. “No, thank you,” she said. “I don’t drink tea. May I have a glass of water instead?”
“Of course you may,” Mrs. Harvey said, and she continued down the row.
As Amy drank her water and ate a crumpet dripping with jam, she felt warm inside. She had obeyed the Word of Wisdom, and—like her ancestors—she had been brave and stood up for what she believed.

A couple of weeks later, our branch was visited by a beloved member of our stake presidency. He gave a talk in the sacrament meeting and invited everyone to remain faithful in their trials and to prepare for the temple. He asked all the members to pray for us to go to the temple again. His talk was comforting to our wounded hearts and gave us hope that one day we will be able to attend the temple.

Soon after moving to Frankfurt, I was called as a presidency member of our area’s center for young adults. The calling involved coordinating institute classes, family home evenings, and other activities. It required a lot of work, but it was worth it because the center is a great blessing to young adults in the area.
Because of this calling, I learned about and joined a young single adult choir. The choir went on a concert tour to Poland and the Czech Republic. It was a great experience, and I loved having the opportunity to share my testimony through music. I was even happier when I received an e-mail several weeks later telling me that someone had joined the Church as a result of one of our concerts.

In 1968 a marathon runner by the name of John Stephen Akhwari represented Tanzania in an international competition. “A little over an hour after [the winner] had crossed the finish line, John Stephen Akhwari … approached the stadium, the last man to complete the journey. [Though suffering from fatigue, leg cramps, dehydration, and disorientation,] a voice called from within to go on, and so he went on. Afterwards, it was written, ‘Today we have seen a young African runner who symbolizes the finest in human spirit, a performance that gives meaning to the word courage.’ For some, the only reward is a personal one. [There are no medals, only] the knowledge that they finished what they set out to do.” When asked why he would complete a race he could never win, Akhwari replied, “My country did not send me 5,000 miles to start the race; my country sent me to finish the race.” (The Last African Runner, Olympiad Series, written, directed, and produced by Bud Greenspan, Cappy Productions [videocassette, 1976].)

In those six years I grew not only spiritually, but in other ways. By the time I was in the ninth grade, I stood a shade over six feet tall, and like my father, was wiry and strong. That spring I discovered that I was a runner.
Chuck and I turned out for track only after mulling long and hard about trying out for baseball. We finally decided that the assurance of running races was preferable to sitting on a bench in baseball. With only a week before the first meet, Chuck and I approached the track coach who had us join the other runners in lap work.
The middle distances sounded good to me. So a week later I found myself at a starting line with a dozen other shivering boys on a chilly April afternoon of the first race, waiting for the starter to fire his pistol.
The gun popped. “Why are they all sprinting?” I thought as we rounded the first corner. The whole race, it seemed, was a sprint. Four times around the track, pumping my arms, maintaining a stride. I kept my head down, concentrating. Midway through the last lap I looked up and saw another runner 20 yards ahead. I began to run faster, trying to catch him. If I’d come this far and run this hard, why not go for first place? The ease with which I caught him was bewildering. He must be terribly tired, I thought. Then, right in front of me was the tape. I ran through it and, for the first time, became conscious of the cheering around me.
“Great race, Tommy. Wait until you’re really in shape. You won by half a lap!” said the coach.
“How could I? I barely passed the last runner.”
“You were lapping him, Tommy.”
It seemed that I had met my destiny, all in the space of a little over four and a half minutes.
That evening, Father finished his dinner and placed his knife and fork across his plate. I had said nothing about the race because I knew he would ask. The time was at hand.
“So, how was your meet, Tommy?”
“Pretty good. I won my race. Set a freshman record, too.”
“In the 1,500 meters?”
“Yes.”
Father sat back and looked at me. “And to think you almost went out for baseball.”

Sharing the gospel is about people, not numbers. So what happened in Immokalee, Florida, began just as it should have, when Junior Reyes invited one of his friends to come to church.
Little did he know what he was starting.
At the time, there were only two Aaronic Priesthood bearers in the Immokalee Branch: Junior and another young man named Jorge Caceres. Jorge was born in the Church but had become discouraged because for a long time he had been the only Aaronic Priesthood bearer in the branch. So Junior, a convert, was the only one who went to stake firesides.
“Every time I’d go, I’d see the other branches and all the youth in the stake, but from our branch, it would just be me,” Junior says. “Finally, I said, ‘Why am I the only one here from Immokalee? I’ve got to open my mouth.’
“The way I was raised, I was taught not to be scared,” he continues. “When I talk to my friends about Jesus Christ and the restored gospel, I’m not afraid; I’m happy. I know what I’m telling them can help them make their lives better.”
So Junior invited his friend Wedner Daly to come to church. “I said, ‘You learn a lot of things and you get a lot of blessings, and it’s worth it.’”
Wedner accepted.
“I didn’t think anything special about it at first,” Wedner says. “I thought it would be like other churches. But when I got there, it was the day that everybody shared their testimonies, so I got to feel the Spirit when I first came. That was different for me. I had never been to a church where people shared their testimonies and felt great about their church. That’s one of the reasons that I liked it.”
So Wedner invited his friend, Milsont Pierre. Milsont started coming to weeknight activities and then to Sunday meetings, and then the missionaries started teaching his family. He remembers vividly, “I felt the Spirit, over and over again, especially during the sacrament prayers. I knew this was the true Church.” Milsont and his three brothers were baptized and confirmed, as well as a cousin, a nephew, and four of Milsont’s friends.
From there, the Aaronic Priesthood in Immokalee just kept multiplying. “It was like a tree,” Junior says. “It just kept growing and growing.”
“One person invited another person, who invited another person, who invited another,” Milsont says.
Some of Junior’s friends from the football team came. Others invited relatives, fellow students, or long-time friends. The full-time missionaries received lots of referrals and taught and taught and taught—often accompanied by young men from the branch. Attendance at Wednesday night and Scouting activities averaged about 30, with almost as many in attendance on Sunday. Today there are 26 active young men in the branch—and one of them is Jorge Caceres, the one who had previously been discouraged about having no other young men with whom to associate.
“I became friends with Junior, too,” Jorge says, “Then when he started inviting his friends to church, I became friends with them. Every week new people kept coming.”
And Jorge noticed something. “Once they started getting to know the Church, they changed.” The gospel was changing them; getting to know Christ was changing them. “When I saw that, I started to take church more seriously. I worked on my own testimony, and now I know the Church is true.”
What has made the difference in Immokalee? Some things you would expect. “One thing that helped me a lot is reading my scriptures and thinking about it, asking questions and praying,” says Esperandieu Andfils. “When you do that and feel the Spirit, there is no denial.”
Wilnick Louis says witnessing his older brother Milsont’s baptism made a difference for him. The baptism was held on Sunday after regular meetings, so Wilnick decided to come to church first. “I’d been to activities, but that was the first time I’d come to church on Sunday,” he says. “During the meetings, and then at the baptism, I felt something good. When the missionaries asked me if I’d come again, I said, ‘Yeah, I’ll keep coming.’”
Sergio Andres says hearing the testimonies of the other young men his age made a big difference for him, and so did hearing the testimony of the full-time missionaries. “You have to share your testimony,” Sergio says, “because if people don’t know there’s a true Church, they won’t be able to find it.”
But one of the biggest factors in the growth of the Church in Immokalee appears to be the attitude the young men here have toward each other.
“We are always together,” Wedner says. “There’s a strong feeling that we’re all brothers, and I love my brothers.” Esperandieu echoes the same feeling: “I can count on them.”
That’s what Young Men leaders have noticed, too.
“They’re friends everywhere they go,” says Michael “Bo” Browne, newly sustained Immokalee Young Men president. “It’s not a situation where if they’re in school, they avoid eye contact. They’re friends and brothers outside of the Church as well as inside, and I think that’s the key.”
“They have taught me a lot of things,” says a previous Young Men president, Frank Fernandez. “But their love for each other is the best example I’ve received. That’s the kind of love we should have toward everybody. Because of that love, they are fearless. They’re not afraid to open their mouths and talk to their friends about the gospel.”
“We’re all counseled to bring our friends and relatives unto Christ,” says recently released Immokalee Young Men president and Scoutmaster Clark Robinson, “and we feel like we should do it because we’re hearing people tell us we should. But these young men do it because they found peace here, and they’re eager to have those they care about feel what they feel and know what they know. It reminds me of Lehi’s dream, when he partakes of the fruit of the tree and immediately wants to share his happiness.
“The Lord has asked everyone to take what we have and add to it. So do the math. A willing spirit plus the correct principles equals a happy, large quorum and a growing branch or ward in the Church,” Brother Robinson says.

7. Keep cars free of inside litter. Place heavy objects—which could become missiles in case of a quick stop—in the trunk. In California, two missionaries were slowing down for an intersection when an empty pop bottle rolled from beneath the driver’s seat and up under the brake pedal. With the brakes thus jammed, they smashed into a semitrailer and the car was totaled out. Fortunately no injury more serious than a broken arm resulted, but all for an empty pop bottle. In another case a quick stop brought some heavy books flying from the back window area, whacking the driver on the neck. He was severely cut and had to have stitches. Imagine what a typewriter or an adding machine might have done!

2. Invite the bishop to come to some of your youth activities. I can remember going on a campout when I was a bishop and falling asleep in the back of the bus. Somewhere there is a picture of me asleep with my mouth open and a wild flower placed inside. My own sons were part of the practical joke. We all grew closer together when the youth enjoyed some relaxing time with me. If the bishop knows how much you want him to be with you, he will try to find time to be part of your special activities.

My great-grandmother was a Scottish lass named Margaret McNeil, who came to Utah with her parents at the age of 13. She walked across the plains and drove a cow, carrying her younger brother James much of the way on her back. She and her family camped on the outskirts of Ogden, and she later recorded this in her autobiography:

“Across the field from where we were was a little house, and out in the yard was a big pile of squash. We were all nearly starved to death. My mother sent me over to this place to beg a squash, for we did not have a cent of money, and some of the children were very weak for the want of food. I knocked at the door, and an old lady came and said, ‘Come in, come in, I knew you were coming and have been told to give you food.’ She gave me a large loaf of fresh bread and said to tell my mother that she would come over soon. It was not long until she came and brought us a nice cooked dinner, something we had not had for a long time.”8

Todd parted the barbed wire carefully and climbed through the fence. Then he held it up for King. The collie leaped through carefully and bounded into the field. He ran in wild circles, his nose to the ground, stopping occasionally to snap at bees. Todd watched him, laughing. The April sun glinted on the dog’s golden coat, thick and deep from the cold winter. Blackbirds perched on the fence posts and cried their shrill, musical notes into the warm air.
“Come here, King!” Todd called. He put his hand on King’s sun-warmed head. King was Todd’s best friend—his only nearby friend, except for Mr. Phillips. There were no boys Todd’s age in the small mountain town where he lived, and he had to ride the school bus ten miles to attend school in Dirkston.
Todd climbed through another fence into Mr. Phillips’ sheep enclosure. He could hear the old man moving around in the lambing shed. “Hi!” he called as he walked into the dimness of the shed. Then he saw Mr. Phillips watching a ewe lick her newborn lamb. His large frame was slightly stooped, and he ran his fingers through his thick white hair as he watched the lamb teeter on its legs.
“Look at this fine lamb, Todd.” A smile crinkled the old man’s weathered face, making his eyes disappear. The ewe nuzzled its lamb, and soon the newborn was sucking contentedly. Todd watched the lamb, smiling. He wanted to pick it up, to feel its woolly little body.
“You can hold it later,” the rancher said, picking up two shovels. “We have a less pleasant job to do now. Come on.”
Todd followed his friend into the bright sunlight where King waited patiently by the door. He spent most of his Saturdays with Mr. Phillips, helping him with the sheep. Todd liked being there, for Mr. Phillips was like a grandpa to him.
“What are we going to do?” Todd asked, running a little to catch up.
“Well, Todd, I’d just as soon you didn’t see this, but I guess it’s part of our job.”
As they approached the corner of the fields, several black and white magpies flapped noisily into the air. Todd saw two dead sheep on the ground. “What happened?” His stomach tightened as he looked at the sheep’s torn bodies.
Mr. Phillips started to dig in the moist ground, piling the muddy shovelfuls onto the grass. “Dogs,” he said, not looking up.
“Dogs?” Todd felt amazed and indignant. “Are you sure? Why would they do it?” Todd began digging too, widening the hole.
Mr. Phillips stooped and stopped beside the sheep. “That’s the question, Todd. They don’t even eat the sheep. They just chase and kill them.”
“Don’t you ever hear them bleating?” Todd asked.
“That’s kind of a funny thing about sheep. They don’t make a sound when they’re really frightened; they just run. I never hear a thing.”
Todd still couldn’t understand how this could happen. “When do the dogs come? Have you seen them?”
“I’ve seen four or five dogs running together ever since work started on the new dam and the men moved their trailers in up there. Everybody has a fierce watchdog because they keep so much equipment outside their trailers.”
Todd knew what he meant. He had seen a pack of large dogs too. “What can you do?” he said.
“I just don’t know.” Mr. Phillips reached out and touched the sheep’s woolly head. “These were last year’s lambs, such fine sheep. This has happened too often lately, but I haven’t told you. I’ve lost ten or twelve sheep this way.” Todd could see the tears standing in his friend’s dark eyes. He knew how much Mr. Phillips loved his sheep, how he called each one by name as he worked with them.
The boy felt a terrible anger and frustration inside him. “Can’t you go to the owners and tell them?”
“I’ve tried that. But each one claims his dog is tied at night or for some other reason couldn’t be the killer. And since I don’t actually see who does the killing, I don’t really know who’s responsible.”
“I’d put out some poison,” Todd said, angrily pushing his hair out of his face as he worked.
Mr. Phillips began digging again. “Well, Todd, I just couldn’t do that. It’s not legal. And you never know what animal might get the poison. Suppose good old King there ate it.”
Todd’s throat tightened at the thought of anything happening to King. He looked at the dog lying on the cool grass, eyes half closed against the sun. Then he had another idea. “Why don’t you get your gun and sit out here all night and watch. If you see a dog coming in here, just shoot it.”
“I’ve thought of something like that. Maybe if I clipped off one or two it would discourage the others. I don’t like the idea of shooting somebody’s dog, but I just can’t let this keep happening, and I’m within my legal right to shoot if a strange dog is on my property.”
Todd helped Mr. Phillips drag the sheep into the hole and cover them. Then they walked silently across the field to the sheds, King following sedately behind them.
Sunday morning Todd lay with his eyes closed a minute, eager to begin another beautiful spring day; but when he opened his eyes the room was gray and dim. A light rain was falling outside. He dressed quickly and quietly, wanting to see Mr. Phillips before Sunday School started and find out if anything had happened during the night.
Todd closed the back screen door quietly behind him and gave a low whistle for King. He was surprised when the animal didn’t bound out of his doghouse, but without waiting he walked quickly through the fields to Mr. Phillip’s sheds. As he crawled through the last fence, he saw Mr. Phillips leaning over something on the ground. He’s shot a dog, Todd thought. He ran forward quickly, but before he reached Mr. Phillips he stopped, fear and grief gripping his body. He walked forward slowly, his eyes fixed on the golden coat of the dog, now soggy with rain. Mr. Phillips looked up. He came toward Todd and put his hands on his shoulders.
“Todd,” he said, “it’s King. I’m so sorry.” Todd looked into Mr. Phillips’ face and saw tears mixed with raindrops, running into the deep wrinkles of his face. His dark eyes were full of suffering.
Todd felt numb. “How did it happen?” he asked.
“The night was so dark with the clouds and all—I’d fallen asleep waiting. When I woke up, I saw the dark form of a dog moving across the pastures, so I shot. I didn’t even look at the body until this morning. When I saw it was King I couldn’t believe it. He was probably headed for the house to see if we’d put out any scraps for him.” Mr. Phillips moved to put his arms around the boy.
Todd stiffened and pulled away. “How could you shoot King? You know him. You see him every day.” His voice rose with anger.
“It was dark. …” Mr. Phillips dropped his hands. Todd ran to King’s body, still hoping that it wasn’t really King, but it was. He lifted the dog’s head, thinking to carry him home. Mr. Phillips came behind him. “I’ll get the cart,” he said.
“No, I’ll take him myself!” Todd cried angrily.
Mr. Phillips went for a cart anyway as Todd struggled to lift the large wet dog. It was impossible. Together they lifted the dog into the cart and the old man pulled it down the road toward Todd’s house. The boy walked a few feet behind, grieving in silence.
Mr. Phillips wanted to dig the hole, but Todd wouldn’t let him. He dug it himself in the soft earth of his mother’s flower garden, where she would put her petunias and marigolds later on. Mr. Phillips stood silently a moment watching him and then turned and went home. Todd’s mother brought the old woolen blanket from the porch swing and wrapped it around King’s body. His father, wearing his Sunday suit, helped lower the dog into the hole.
Todd sat through Sunday School and sacrament meeting, hearing nothing, feeling only grief for his dog. He kept picturing King running through the field in the sunshine. Yesterday seemed months ago.
On Monday night Mr. Phillips came to the door with a little bummer lamb for Todd. Todd wouldn’t see him. He told his mother to tell Mr. Phillips he didn’t want the lamb. All week Todd stayed in his room after school, mostly just lying on his bed. After dinner and chores he went back to his room. On Friday night, Todd’s father followed him into his room. He sat down on the side of the bed, not saying anything.
Finally Todd spoke. “Dad, do you honestly believe in dog heaven, or is it just a story to make little kids feel better?”
“I don’t know about dog heaven, but I do believe firmly that all life is eternal, because everything was created spiritually before it was created physically.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s hard to understand, but to you it means that King still lives.”
“Will I see him again after I die?”
“I don’t know that for sure, but it may be possible.” Todd’s father looked at him closely. “You haven’t done any work at school all week, and you’ve just lain here every night. Aren’t you beginning to feel a little better?”
“No,” Todd answered, looking away.
“One thing bothers me,” his father said. “You had two great friends in this rather lonely place. You lost one by accident, something that couldn’t be helped. I don’t know why you chose to lose the second one. Have you thought any about how Mr. Phillips has been feeling this week?”
Todd had tried not to think of it. But he kept seeing Mr. Phillip’s face with tears and rain running down it. His conscience had also reminded him that shooting the prowling dogs was his idea. “Well, I don’t want that little bummer lamb. How could he think a lamb would ever replace King?”
“I’m sure he doesn’t think that, but he needs to do something to show how sorry he is. You’re hurting him far more than he hurt you, because you’re doing it intentionally.”
Todd hadn’t thought of it quite like that. He still didn’t look at his father, who suddenly leaned over and kissed his cheek.
Saturday morning, Todd woke up early, the same knot of pain forming in his stomach as it did every morning since King died. Sunshine streamed in the window. Todd dressed, went out quietly, and walked through the fields, the morning dew drenching his sneakers. As the sun warmed his face, Todd slowly began to feel a little more alive again. His heart still ached for King, but he felt some sense of comfort, a feeling of his heart softening just as he had prayed it would.
He saw Mr. Phillips in the shed gathering his shearing tools. “I guess I need that lamb if I’m ever going to have my own flock,” Todd called from the doorway. Mr. Phillips turned and came through the door into the sunlight, his eyes warm and shining.
“I’m sure glad to see you, Todd,” he said. “I’m going to need help with this shearing.”
And together they went into the shed.

In Alaska, LDS teenagers who live in the towns of Wasilla, Palmer, and Eagle River look at the Anchorage Alaska Temple and know that something of theirs is safe inside. They were fortunate enough to be in the right place at the right time to make a promise, sign their names to it, then have those pledges sealed inside the cornerstone of the temple at the dedication.
The promise they signed was quite short. It said simply: “As I prepare for marriage and a mission, I will live the standards of worthiness for entrance into the house of the Lord.” It was a promise that many of them were willing to make, but now that the promise is literally encased in stone in the temple and sealed with mortar, these young people have taken it very seriously.
“This was a goal I had previously made,” says Katie Green of the Eagle River Second Ward, “but had never put on paper. When I was given the opportunity to do so, I jumped at it. I didn’t just sign it; I pondered it. To me a promise is a promise and cannot be broken, especially with our Father in Heaven. Living the standards of worthiness doesn’t mean just not crossing the line. It means that we must live as far away from that line as possible.”
For Amie Uscola of the Wasilla First Ward, making a promise like this one is very personal. “Having my name in the cornerstone of the temple is like an agreement on a personal basis with the Lord. It is like a possession of His, and if you broke it, it is more personal. I actually do think about it every time I come here.”
These teens are thrilled to have a temple so close to their hometowns. Before the Anchorage Alaska Temple was built, these teens only rarely, if ever, had the opportunity to travel to a temple. The trips were expensive and often a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Now they have many more opportunities to do baptisms and to go through the temple for their own endowments before leaving on missions or being married. Ryan Rampton of the Eagle River Second Ward said, “With something as sacred as doing temple ordinances, now I won’t have to go to another state. I can do it in the place I grew up. That actually means a lot to me.”
Having signed a pledge that is now permanently in the temple’s cornerstone makes coming to the temple even better. “The feelings I get whenever I enter the temple,” says ShaLene Grover of the Palmer First Ward, “make the desires of my heart stronger to be a better person. This makes a difference in my life, to always be worthy to go to the temple, so I can always feel the peace I feel when going there.”
Just exactly what can these teens do to keep the promise they signed?
Katie Green’s friends know she has standards that she lives. They even know about the For the Strength of Youth pamphlet that outlines and explains just what those standards are. And they like it that when they are with Katie, they have a friend who will help them be a little bit better instead of a little bit worse.
Attending Church meetings and seminary makes it easier. Christy Kendall of the Eagle River First Ward explained how she received an answer as to how she was supposed to act. “It was a lesson when I was a Mia Maid that said you need to make a decision now so that when evil things confront you, you will have a definite answer ready. From then on, For the Strength of Youth became my handbook. It wasn’t just words to me because now I knew that was how I needed to act. Those were my answers that I needed to say when confronted.”
And staying worthy of a temple recommend also prepares these young people to serve the Lord. “The promise I made with my Heavenly Father,” says Austin Wallace of the Eagle River Second Ward, “has influenced my life. I strive to live worthy to enter the temple. I know that if I am temple worthy I am also mission worthy.”
Austin has always followed the good examples set by his friends. He says, “My friends are still the people I look up to. Their testimonies shine through me because I’ve emulated them in all they’ve done.” Austin’s best friend is serving a full-time mission, and Austin is preparing to serve also. “I’ve just loved the Church so much. Now that I’ve seen the choices my friends have made, it’s part of my own personal choice to do the same.”
The Anchorage Alaska Temple is not large, but its light-gray granite walls catch the light. It’s easy to see from one of the main highways. Tim Miner of the Palmer First Ward sees the temple when he has to go that way to get to work. And he remembers his promise.
And Tisha Harman of the Wasilla Second Ward remembers her pledge. She even remembers where her name was among the dozens of other signatures on the sheet.
Dené Christensen of the Eagle River Second Ward says, “When you really think about it, having your name sealed in a cornerstone in the house of the Lord is just amazing. You don’t want to do anything wrong. You don’t want to tarnish or damage any part of that temple. Then I remember that my name’s in there.”
Even though these teens were the right age and at the right place to sign a pledge to remain worthy to enter the temple, Emerson Fry of the Palmer Second Ward reminds us all, “Whether or not you sign a paper, I hope that everyone makes the same promise to themselves and to God.”
“We committed ourselves to our Heavenly Father, that if He would send us to the earth and give us bodies and give to us the priceless opportunities that earth life afforded, we would keep our lives clean and would marry in the holy temple and would rear a family and teach them righteousness. This was a solemn oath, a solemn promise” (Salt Lake Institute of Religion Devotional, 10 Jan. 1975, 2).—President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985)
“Signing this promise was simply a unique way of recommitting ourselves on a more personal level, much like renewing covenants every Sunday in sacrament meeting. This promise offered me a new chance to recommit myself to the standards I may have faltered in obeying. It redefined the covenants I’ve made and gave me renewed purpose to become prepared to enter the temple, go on my mission, and get married.”—Ryan Rampton, 16, Eagle River Second Ward, Wasilla Alaska Stake
“I was able to sign the pledge that is placed in the cornerstone of the temple. By signing I was able to make a promise that I will always be worthy to enter the temple. Just to think that one day I will be able to enter the temple knowing that I have been worthy brings me joy and happiness.”—Crystal Eriksson, 17, Wasilla Second Ward, Wasilla Alaska Stake

Sometime later, I was home one evening with my brothers and sisters. We heard a whining noise coming from outside. We went to the window and peered out into the darkness. Soon, Major, our large German shepherd, passed through the light from the window. We could see that something was terribly wrong! Fearfully my older brother and I went outside and were able to get Major back into the light and see why he was trembling in pain. He had had an encounter with a porcupine, and countless quills had been thrust into his nose, mouth, tongue, and chest.
Immediately we went inside to call for my father to come home. He had been working late at the college. He came quickly, examined Major, and sadly announced, “We will probably have to put him to sleep.” We understood what that meant, and, through our tears, we said, “If you’re going to put Major to sleep, you will have to put us to sleep first.”
Dad had no other choice but to pull out the quills one by one. We watched in agony as Major winced and howled in pain as each quill tore away some of his flesh.
It wasn’t long until he had fully recovered and was back on duty, faithfully protecting us and our farm from all intruders. Unfortunately, some months later, he had another encounter with a porcupine and had to suffer all that pain again.