Gospel Story Finder

July 1
Dear Sarah,
After Lindsay came home, Mom had to spend a lot of time caring for her, and I helped a lot around the house, I didn’t have much time for the garden. I didn’t go all week, and when I finally got over there on Saturday, Mr. Trujillo was really sad. About half of our tomato plants were gone. Gophers got them. They just burrow underneath and pull the plants down—one day you see them, and the next day you don’t. He said he didn’t know how to get rid of the gophers. He was afraid to put out poison because pets might get into it. And he didn’t want to flush the gophers out and bash them over the head the way some people do. He’s really a nice man.
I told him I’d pray about it, and he kind of smiled and patted my head. On Sunday I fasted and prayed for Lindsay to get all well and for a solution to the gopher problem.
Monday morning I thought of Billy Swenson who lives down by the river. Remember him? He’s the kid who has live traps and catches squirrels and stuff up in the canyon. I went to see him, and we made a deal. He said that he’d come and trap the gophers and turn them loose down by the river if I would give him some tomatoes, three pumpkins, and two watermelons when they’re ready.
Mr. Trujillo was pretty surprised and happy. He looked at me in that puzzled way he does sometimes.
It took Billy four days to get all the gophers, but they’re gone. Yesterday we set out more tomato plants.
Love,Angela the Problem Solver

Illustrations by Bryan Beach
K.C. played with his CTR ring during Primary. He tossed it from hand to hand.
Whoops! It slipped from his hands and fell to the ground. He couldn’t see where it fell. Then it was time to go to class.
After Primary was over, Sister Ballard saw a CTR ring on the floor. I wonder if K.C. left this behind, she thought.
She slipped it in her pocket to give to him later.
A few days later, K.C. realized he had lost his CTR ring. He looked everywhere, but he couldn’t find it.
K.C. knelt down. “Heavenly Father, please help me find my ring,” he prayed.
That same day, Sister Ballard was making dinner.
“Take K.C.’s CTR ring to him,” she felt the Spirit say.
I can’t go now, Sister Ballard thought. I’m too busy!
K.C. kept searching and praying. “Please, Heavenly Father,” he said. “Please help me find it.”
“Get K.C.’s CTR ring and take it to him,” Sister Ballard heard the Spirit say again.
She set down the carrots and went to get the ring.
K.C. came downstairs and told his mom what had happened.
“I’ve prayed and prayed, but I still can’t find it,” he said.
Just then, there was a knock at the door …
It was Sister Ballard!
“I felt like you needed this,” she said, handing K.C. his CTR ring.
K.C. smiled as he happily put his ring back on. His prayer had been answered!

I was 13 when I found myself faced with what I felt was a no-win scenario. I had been friends with this girl for a few months. She was not a member of the Church, nor did she share all of our values of always striving to be Christlike. She preferred to settle her disagreements with her fists.

During lunch that day, I had been sitting quietly, listening to the conversation around me. Then my friend suddenly started bad-mouthing another friend of mine. This other friend I knew to be a nice, polite girl, who always tried to treat everyone kindly. My heart started to pound, sounding in my ears. I knew it wasn’t right for me to sit there and say nothing; so I spoke.

“Please don’t talk about her like that.”

My friend glared at me. “I can talk about her if I want,” she responded.

“I’m asking you not to,” I said a little louder.

That’s when she stood—face flushed and eyes wide. “You want to take this outside?” she snarled.

There I sat, unsure of how to keep one friend while defending another, who I knew didn’t deserve to have her reputation slandered.

I stood up to meet my friend’s eyes, praying that Heavenly Father would help me be a peacemaker.

I spoke calmly but sincerely. “You’re my friend,” I told her, “and it hurts me to hear you talk badly about another friend I care about.”

That was all it took. The wrinkles between her brows disappeared and her eyes softened. She shrugged, “Fine.” Then, she sat back down.

That may not have been our last disagreement, but that was the last time she ever wanted to fight me. I learned then that treating others as friends and fellow sons and daughters of our Heavenly Father is the right thing to do, no matter the situation. And I’m grateful for the example that our Savior, Jesus Christ, and the Prophet Joseph Smith set for me so that I could learn this for myself.

Spencer’s family were also members of the Church. That made me nervous, because I had been taught my whole life that if I walked inside an LDS church, I would see fire and go straight to hell.
But Spencer and other Mormons were really nice to me, and I felt comfortable around them. So even though I was pretty scared of the Church, I went to church with them a few times and met a lot of other good people.
Their kindness helped soften my heart.
One of my new friends, Rick, was a member of the Church too. The night before he left on his mission, I told him I was feeling frustrated. I couldn’t go into the military, I didn’t want to go to college, and I didn’t know what to do. He looked right at me and said, “You should go on a mission like me.”
That statement hit me like a ton of bricks. I said, “All right, I’ll go on a mission.”
He laughed and said, “Well, you have to be a member of the Church first.”
I met with the missionaries with Spencer’s family after Rick left for his mission. Six weeks later, Spencer baptized me. I was almost 19 years old.
Still, things weren’t perfect after that. Most of my family was not happy that I joined the Church. My dad even offered me a brand-new pickup truck if I would just forget about it. But my brother Roger supported me. When I told him I wanted to serve a mission, he told me to give it 110%. Whether I was serving a mission or not, he told me to always do my best.
When I told him I wanted to serve a mission, he told me to give it 110%.
I tried to prepare the best I could by studying the scriptures, praying, and going to a mission prep class. While I was on my mission in North Carolina, I lost myself in the work and did my best to follow Roger’s advice to give it 110%.
Ten years later, I lost my dad to cancer. Even though he and I had hard times, I love him so much. As I leaned down to hug him and say “I love you” one last time, he said something I will never forget. He told me he was proud of me and that he was glad I served a mission. Two years later, Spencer got to baptize me for my father in the temple.
My family may not have approved of my joining the Church, but because of their unfailing love and the example of my friends and their families, I was able to serve a mission, be married in the temple, and help my dad after he passed on. I am grateful to be a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Illustrations by Jess Golden
Matthew climbed into bed. He pulled a fluffy blanket up to his chin. “Is Adam coming home from the hospital tomorrow?” he asked. Matthew hadn’t seen his younger brother since Adam broke his leg and went to the hospital to get a special cast.
“Yes!” Mom said. She tucked the blanket around Matthew. “He’ll need our help. He won’t be able to move around too much because of his cast.”
“How big is it?” asked Matthew.
“It goes all the way around his waist. And it covers all of his broken leg and half of his other leg.”
“Whoa,” Matthew said. “That sounds bad.”
“It will be pretty hard for him.” Mom turned off the light. “But if we look for small and simple ways to serve him, we can help him be happy.”
Matthew was tired, but he couldn’t go to sleep. He kept thinking about all the things Adam couldn’t do in his cast. He won’t be able to play tag or hide-and-seek. Someone will have to carry him to his bed and the couch. He finally fell asleep thinking of ways he could try to help.
After school the next day, Matthew ran home from the bus stop. “Welcome home, little buddy!” Matthew yelled as he ran inside.
Adam was sitting on the couch in the family room. Matthew gave him a big hug. Adam’s cast was bright green, and it rubbed against Matthew’s arms. It was hard and scratchy.
Matthew felt sad for his brother. The cast was so big!
“So … do you want to play with me?” Matthew asked.
Adam frowned and looked down at his cast. “I can’t.”
“Sure you can! I’ll be right back.” Matthew gathered up Adam’s favorite games and toys and took them to the family room. He sat on the couch next to Adam. “We can play cars or a board game. Then maybe Dad can get your wheelchair and we can all go for a walk before dinner.”
“OK!” Adam smiled wide. “And we can play with this!” He pulled a brown teddy bear from underneath his blanket. “His name is Ruff. I got him at the hospital.”
“Awesome!” Matthew grabbed a bucket of cars. Together they turned the couch into a racetrack with giant pillow mountains and a bear cave for Ruff. They had lots of fun!
Matthew did lots of little things to help his brother. When the cast was making Adam uncomfortable, Matthew helped him move around. When Adam asked for a snack, he brought graham crackers and milk to share. They were playing a board game when Mom walked in the room.
“It looks like you’re having fun,” she said.
“Yeah!” Adam smiled. “This is the best game day ever!”
Mom hugged Matthew. “Thanks,” she whispered.
“I thought about what you said last night, about the small and simple things,” Matthew said. Then he laughed. “But there’s just one problem.”
“What’s that?” asked Mom.
“My little buddy has turned into a turtle!”
They all looked at Adam’s big green cast. Adam laughed. “I am a big green turtle!” he said.
Mom hugged Adam. “You’re the cutest turtle I’ve ever seen.”

The most outstanding example of individual effort that I know of is represented in the college career of Jim Thorpe. Of Lamanite ancestry, he attended Carlisle Indian School. There he compiled a record that has never been approached. He was one of the main players on the football team and was such a hard runner that for fun he would tell the other team which way he was coming. When his team had to kick the ball, he could kick it 64 meters.
One year little Carlisle Indian School defeated mighty Harvard University, with Thorpe kicking and running to score the points that won the game. Another time against Army Academy, he picked up one Army kick and ran 82.2 meters with it to score, but it was called back on a penalty. So Thorpe picked up the next kickoff and ran 86.8 meters to score!
In track and field, Carlisle Indian School faced a tough dual meet with strong, unbeaten Lafayette College (in Pennsylvania). Jim Thorpe came to the meet accompanied by one other man. Since Lafayette College had a squad of 48 athletes, an official said, “You mean the two of you are the whole Carlisle Indian School team?”
“No,” said Thorpe. “Only me. The other fellow is the student manager.”
Against Lafayette College that day, Thorpe won the high jump, broad jump, shotput, discus throw, 109 meter hurdles, 201 meter hurdles, and finished third in the 91.4 meter dash. Carlisle Indian School won the meet 71–41.

Yu stepped out of cram school onto the busy sidewalk. His head was full of math facts from his after-school class. People hurried by with umbrellas. Fat raindrops were falling fast, and the street was soaked.
Yu’s friend Lin stepped out beside him. “You should call your dad to pick you up,” Lin said. “Mr. Zhang says it’s flooding in some parts of the city.”
“I can get home on my own.”
“But look at all the water!” Lin said, pointing to the water flowing swiftly in the gutter.
For a moment, Yu had a funny feeling. Was Lin right? Maybe he should call Dad to drive him home before the streets flooded. But he and Dad had an argument last night, and Yu was still angry. He didn’t want to ask Dad for help.
Yu unchained his bike and said goodbye to Lin. If I pedal hard, he thought, I can make it home before the streets flood.
He pedaled hard, but soon his hands were cold, his clothes were soaked, and he was exhausted. Once again, the thought came to call Dad. Was the feeling from the Holy Ghost? The missionaries who baptized him had said that the Holy Ghost could be his guide. Yu glanced at the sky. It was so grey that he couldn’t see the tops of the buildings. But he was still mad at Dad.
Yu ignored the feeling and kept pedaling. The water got so high that shop owners closed their stores. People moved belongings to higher floors. Yu saw a mother pulling her two children through the flood in a little plastic boat.
With the water now past his ankles, Yu could no longer pedal his bike. He got off and pushed. It was probably too late to call Dad now, and the rain was still coming down. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed above him. Yu felt afraid. And he was so tired! He looked ahead. Home was still far away. He shouldn’t have ignored the Holy Ghost just because of a silly argument.
Yu stopped to say a short prayer. He couldn’t hear his voice above the rain and thunder, but he knew that Heavenly Father could hear him.
“Heavenly Father,” Yu prayed, “please help me get home safely.” When he finished, he felt strong enough to keep going.
At last, Yu could see his house on the hill. Cold, tired, and somehow missing a shoe, Yu trudged up the hill. He saw Dad waiting for him outside. Dad rushed down the hill to meet him, splashing water as he ran.
When Dad reached him, he put his arms around Yu. “I was so worried!” Dad said. “You should have called me!”
“I thought we were mad at each other,” Yu said.
“I am never too mad to help you,” Dad said. Then he took Yu’s bike and pushed it the rest of the way up the hill.
Even with thunder echoing between the tall buildings and heavy rain pelting down, a warm feeling filled Yu’s heart. He felt peace and safety as he followed Dad home.

Once a group of children was playing in a home where the Prophet was hiding from wicked men who wanted to kill him. They overheard the older people tell of the Prophet’s danger, and one seven-year-old girl said, “I know what we can do. We can pray and ask our Father in heaven to keep Brother Joseph safe from harm.”

A few minutes later the Prophet went past a bedroom door in time to see the children kneeling together and to hear their simple prayer for his safety. Tears filled his eyes and then rolled down his cheeks. As the children rose from their knees, one of them said, “Now I know Brother Joseph will be safe.”

Then the Prophet returned to the room where his older friends had come to guard him through the night. He told them that they could go to their own homes, for he knew that prayers of children are heard and answered and that he could sleep in peace that night. And he did!

The Secuya family live in a mountainous part of Cebu, with the parents working as farm caretakers to support their brood of five. On weekends, the entire household puts on formal clothes and shoes and start trekking . . . up to twelve kilometers to reach the Busay 2nd Ward meetinghouse of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“It’s important we go to church every Sunday, because we learn a lot listening to the words of Jesus Christ,” shares Richelle Secuya. Together with her other siblings and parents, Richelle walks through upland paths and then takes off her footwear to ford through streams, after which she and her family wait for a public utility vehicle that brings them to church.
As they attend sacrament meeting, the Secuyas feel a different kind of fulfillment. “We know that Heavenly Father is happy when we are at church, which is His House,” Richelle’s brother Ryle smiles.
Still, the family knows the challenges of keeping the Lord’s command to renew their baptismal covenants as they keep the Sabbath day holy. “I remember our worst experience,” recalls Mitzi Secuya, the siblings’ mother, “we had to walk three to four hours, which we did for a month.”
At one point, the long trek became almost unbearable for her children. “There were times when they would say they were tired from walking and walking,” she admits, “but we still continued because our Sunday would not be complete if we went to church without them.”
The winding ways Sister Secuya and her family traverse reflect her journey in bringing her family to walk the covenant path together. At first, Sister Secuya was the only Church member in the family, but she had become less active.
Then, one day, she saw the full- time missionaries. “I’m a member of the Church, come please,” Mitzi excitedly called them out. The missionaries set an appointment with the family, and invited them to hear about the gospel of Jesus Christ.
At first, Richard Secuya wasn’t that receptive to the missionaries, but as he thought of his wife and children, he became more responsive to the promptings of the Spirit. The entire family became members of the Church, and were sealed for time and all eternity in the temple.
“I know the Lord will not forsake us if we come to Him,” Brother Secuya testifies, “and it is truly wonderful that we are now members of the Church. He really is mindful of us.”

I love to read books that show temples from around the world. When I had a friend ask me about temples, I knew that my explanation wasn’t enough to help her understand. So I brought my books on temples and showed her what the temple is, the purpose of the temple, and how thankful we are to visit the temple. I decided to invite her to church on Sunday, where the missionaries and Sunday School teachers could help her learn more.
Jessica A., 18, Indonesia

Doug had always loved sports. Maybe it was because they almost all required running, and running was his favorite activity. As a child he ran everywhere. If you saw someone walking you knew you weren’t looking at Douglas Padilla. “I didn’t like to just wait around. Why walk if you can get there faster by running?” And of course there were always races for an aspiring young runner—impromptu school ground and back lot challenges as well as the prestigious 50 yarders sponsored by the grade school. There was only one problem. “I was always getting beat. In fact, the girls all beat me.”
This was a great boon for equality, but it wasn’t a real ego booster, especially for a boy who already carried the burden of being the smallest boy in his class. But rather than throwing away his sneakers and giving up, Doug just kept running.
He is still running today. Seven times an All-American during his track career at BYU, he now runs for the Athletics West Track Club. He has been ranked number one in the world in the indoor 3,000 and 5,000 meters, and fifth in the world in the 5,000 meters outdoor. He has enjoyed wins in many important national and international competitions, including the 1983 World Championships in Helsinki, Finland. He was the top American qualifier for the 5,000 meters in the 1984 Olympic Games in Los Angeles. Unfortunately, he had health problems at the games and finished a disappointing seventh. Like the seasoned competitor he is though, he put it behind him as “just another race” and is back working his way to the top. He enjoyed a spectacular indoor season this past winter, winning five of the seven races he entered. He was the fastest American in the 3,000 meters, the 5,000 meters, the two mile, and the three mile.
Doug’s rise from neighborhood “also ran” to world-class runner didn’t happen overnight, of course. It took some fifth quarter effort along the way. Even when he was still the slowest kid around, Doug always ran in every race he could. Finally, in junior high school he got on the track team.
At last, all the running and fifth-quarter determination started paying off. Doug’s speed and endurance began to soar. His time in the two mile improved from 11:50 his freshman year to 9:17 his senior year, when he went undefeated in cross-country and won the league meet. He went all the way to state in the two mile, finishing 13th with a personal record of 9:15.4.
After high school, Doug was not deluged with scholarship offers. By college standards, he was still a very average runner. He did finally receive an offer from a junior college near his home, however. At the end of the first year there he surprised everyone, including himself, by running a 4:10.7 and winning the mile at the Northern California Championships. At this point, Doug decided to go to BYU. He didn’t have a scholarship or even an invitation, but he went anyway. When you’ve spent a whole year in the fifth quarter, you’re game for about anything. That fall he went out for cross-country and finished as the eighth man on the team.
Soon after the end of the cross-country season, Doug was called to serve a mission in El Salvador. His track career was a little shaky at best, and he had no particular reason to think that a two-year absence would improve it much, but his desire to follow the counsel of the General Authorities was strong. As he served the people of El Salvador through his calling, he began to change in many ways. He began to have a different perspective on sports and life in general.
“When you look at a high school athlete, he grows up with sports. He eats it and drinks it. That’s his life—everything. As you grow up a little more, you find out there’s a little more to life, and then you go on a mission and find out you don’t have to run and compete to be successful and to feel important as a person. Then your emphasis changes, and running isn’t necessary anymore. Many times sports are a means by which individuals can gain self-confidence and self-esteem. Many people go through an identity crisis. How important are they as an individual? As you go on a mission you realize that the Lord loves you and cares about you and is concerned with your being a good person regardless of how you are athletically. You come to realize that your relationship with people, school, your church callings, a number of things—all are important, not just athletics. You become a little more aware of life.
“I was always very small in high school and had little self-confidence, but now my confidence is in the Lord.”
The two years in El Salvador proved to be a blessing athletically. Even though Doug had little opportunity to run in the mission field, his body had a chance to mature. He returned stronger and faster than when he left. He was the 23rd American finisher in the NCAA cross-country championships that year, earning all-American honors. He was also part of a distance medley team that took second in the nation.
His junior year brought only moderate success. In the outdoor season he finished sixth in the nationals in the 5,000-meter run.
In his senior year he finished 15th in the cross-country nationals. Then came the golden indoor season that was to vault him into the aristocracy of the running world. He somehow managed to talk his way into the Sunkist Invitational meet, even though his times really didn’t qualify him for that level of competition. There he went head to head in the two mile with the great Suleiman Nyambui, the University of Texas at El Paso star. Doug had never beaten Nyambui, the silver medalist in the 500 meters at the Moscow Olympics, although as members of the same college athletic conference, the two had competed many times. This time Doug stayed right behind Nyambui throughout the race.
“When Suleiman moved out to take the lead, I stepped right out behind him. I stayed right on his tail. I decided that what I needed to do was surprise him when I went around him. It’s twenty-two laps on the indoor track for two miles. So I said, ‘with two laps to go, I’ll make my move.’ So that’s what I did. I made it right at the top of the turn. I cut a little close, and I just brushed him with my arm, and I think that kind of surprised him. I brushed by him on the outside just as he looked to the inside to see where everybody was. I think he was kind of startled, and by the time he recovered I had six or seven yards on him. And then I just ran like crazy. He never caught me. Indoors the race is often won by the man who makes the first move and doesn’t die. The crowd was amazed that Suleiman could be beaten, especially by me.”
This was a victory that any athlete could treasure for life, even if it was followed by no others, but in this case both Doug and most knowledgeable track people sensed that it marked a great turning point in his career, the beginning of something big, a rite of passage from just another good college runner to something different. Doug was edging into that elite circle of athletes who can be described as “world-class.”
In the Western Athletic Conference indoor track meet, Doug once again shocked everyone by beating Suleiman. Some had assumed that the first victory was a fluke—a very impressive fluke notwithstanding.
This set the stage for the indoor nationals. “I knew that Suleiman would be expecting me this time, and that I would have to move earlier than I had before. So I made a move with five laps to go, almost a half mile. That was quite a race. It was rough. He ran in lane two for almost the last five full laps. He tried to pass me repeatedly. I won by four-hundredths of a second.” Less than an hour later, Doug had to run the 5,000 meters. Not knowing how much he had left, he dropped to the back of the pack. With two and a half laps to go, he made his move, swinging wide around a group in front of him. He moved into third place with a lap to go, took second on the backstretch, and kicked hard in a grim charge to overtake Suleiman. He couldn’t quite catch him, finishing second.
In the outdoor nationals that spring, he finished fourth in both the 1,500 and 5,000 meters. His college career was ended, but he was still getting faster and stronger all the time. It was time again for the fifth quarter.
Even though there are many rewards in competitive running, it is not exactly what the average person would describe as fun. It hurts. It hurts a lot. Somewhere in the course of the race all the body’s needs and desires become reduced to one—to stop. “It’s a matter of losing your concentration. You slow down, and all of a sudden you look up and realize they have ten yards on you. You lose contact with what’s going on and they break you.” The successful runner must resist this, forcing his body to do his mind’s will.
“You have to decide beforehand what you’re going to do in a race, and then you go out and you do it. With my style of running I need to decide that I’m going to stay with certain runners no matter what until I start my kick at the end. Then it’s a matter of staying with that decision regardless of how I feel. Once you’ve gone through about half the race at a good pace, you lose a little bit of the awareness of how you feel. You just learn to concentrate more on staying with an individual. You put all your energies into it, and you mask out everything else. I used to wonder how bad I wanted to win, if I wanted success enough to be willing to hurt for it. It’s a matter of determining if it’s really worth it to you or not.”
If a runner wants to know the limits of his own potential, there is a price to pay. “If you go by how you feel, you’re always going to decide you don’t have enough, and so you’ll fall back. And if you push it, there’s always more than you think. And even if there isn’t, you’ll at least know where you stand.”
Does the gospel help Doug in his running? “It has given me confidence in myself. My mission had a lot to do with that. Realizing that I could go out and do something, that I could seek the Lord’s help in accomplishing something, helped me believe in my individual worth as a person, that I was important.”
How important is the gospel in his life? “There isn’t anything more important in my life than the gospel. It is much more important than running. There isn’t any comparison. If running is the most important thing in your life and you get injured or become too old to compete, then you are left with nothing. When I was a teenager I didn’t have this kind of a testimony or perspective. I was still learning. The Church was important, but I didn’t realize how important. My mission taught me that I can do whatever the Lord wants me to do—anything.”
Where does running fit into Doug’s vision of the gospel? “The Lord wants us to develop the talent that we have, and it’s a responsibility each person has, so in that sense, it’s something that I need to do. But I’ve always felt that it’s something the Lord wants me to do also. If I didn’t have the feeling that he wanted me to run, I probably wouldn’t be running now, just because in the years after I got back from my mission, I didn’t handle the pressure very well. It was a lot to go through, especially when you’re not doing that well, and there are other things more important to me in my life. Now it would be hard to imagine not running. But there’s an awful lot of pressure before a race. I’m extremely nervous. I have to eat five or six hours before I run or I will throw up. It’s just very unpleasant. Just imagine yourself standing up to talk in general conference, and you’ll have some idea. If I didn’t feel the Lord had some purpose for me in this I wouldn’t be doing it.”
Doug gained a great strength in his life on July 14, 1983, when he married Lynette Nielson of Golden, Colorado, in the Salt Lake Temple. “Marriage has been good to me,” he says. “I’ve got a great wife. She gives me a clearer perspective on running and on life.”
When will Doug stop running? “When the Lord wants me to stop.”
How will he know when that happens? “I just won’t have any desire to run anymore.”
That time isn’t in sight right now. The short, skinny kid who lost to the girls in grade school, who had to wait for the fifth quarter to play basketball, who ran just because he loved running, has grown up into one of the finest distance runners on the planet Earth. He knows now that if you work and wait long enough, giving it everything you have, your fifth quarter will come, because the fifth quarter is only for those with the courage to endure to the end.

I will never forget the day my mother taught me how to love a mean lady.
She was my neighbor, and I was afraid of her. She had long white hair that stuck out everywhere, and she was missing some teeth. Her name was Maggie.
We lived in a yard of seven little cottages. (In England, a yard is a tiny street.) Because there was only one way out of the yard, we had to pass Maggie’s cottage every day on the way to school. If she saw us, she would come to her door and shake her fists and shout. We couldn’t understand a word she said, but she seemed angry and scary. Everyone ran past Maggie’s house or tried to avoid it.
Everyone, that is, except my mother. She seemed to be the bravest person in the world because she wasn’t afraid of Maggie one bit. She even went into her cottage! If Maggie was sick, Mum took her dinner. If Maggie was lonely, Mum went and talked with her. Mum said that sometimes she even understood what Maggie was saying.
One day I was walking home from school when I saw Mum in the yard with Maggie. Maggie’s clothes were hanging on our washing line. As usual, Maggie was pointing and shouting. Then she stomped off.
“What’s wrong?” I asked Mother. “What was she saying?”
“Oh, I’ve done her washing for her, and she says it isn’t clean,” Mum said.
I gasped. Mother’s washing was always very clean. “How could she say that? She’s so ungrateful! You should never help her again!”
Mum turned to look at me, and I could tell that she was thinking carefully about what to say. Finally, she said something that I will always remember.
“Love, I don’t do things for her so that she’ll be grateful. I do them because she needs me to do them.”
Mum went on to explain that Maggie hadn’t enjoyed the same good things in life that we had. Sad things had happened to her that made it hard for her to think and act properly. She needed people to show her love and care, and not pay attention to how different she was.
I realized that Maggie was a very important person. She was one of the “least” that Jesus spoke about when He said, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these … ye have done it unto me.”* Not only did Maggie need us to help her with everyday work, Heavenly Father also needed us to show her that she was loved. When we unselfishly served Maggie, we served Heavenly Father too. My mother understood this, and I’m glad she took the time to teach me.

President Russell M. Nelson, President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, spoke about how the Sabbath day blessed his life as a young professional: “I first found delight in the Sabbath many years ago when, as a busy surgeon, I knew that the Sabbath became a day for personal healing. By the end of each week, my hands were sore from repeatedly scrubbing them with soap, water, and a bristle brush. I also needed a breather from the burden of a demanding profession. Sunday provided much-needed relief.”1

One such athlete is 25-year-old Milton Queiro da Paixao—affectionately known to his fans as Tita—a member of the Brazilian national soccer team. Tita says he owes a great deal of his success and ability to observing the Word of Wisdom.

“Since I was baptized,” he says, “I have diligently followed the principles of the Word of Wisdom. A good diet and a morally clean life have been of great value to me in keeping in excellent physical condition.”

Being in top physical condition is necessary for Tita and his teammates as they participate in soccer matches in various temperatures and climates and at various altitudes. Known for his diligence and concentration in practice and training—he is always one of the last to quit—Tita lives his religion comfortably, and he never misses an opportunity to explain why he doesn’t join others in smoking or drinking alcoholic beverages or tea and coffee.

Luiz Ziwi Pires, a reporter with the publication Zero Hora has commented that Tita is a “well-mannered, clean-cut young man. He treats people courteously and he is always willing to respond to questions about his religion.”

In October 2011, while serving a full-time mission in South Africa, I received a phone call from Sister Catherine Wood, our mission president’s wife. All merry and bright, she told me that President Thomas S. Monson had just announced the construction of a temple in my home town, Kinshasa. I remember shouting—with joy with tears flowing down my cheeks—in gratitude to the Most High for the blessing of having a temple in my country.
Eight years later, having married and been sealed to Rachel Tshimungu in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple in 2014, I am the father of two children. Together as a family we have witnessed the fulfillment of this great miracle—not only in our country, but also and especially in our own lives. We watched as the temple rose from ground level until, finally, the Kinshasa Democratic Republic of the Congo Temple was dedicated on Sunday, April 14, 2019 by Elder Dale G. Renlund of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.

1 It was a happy day for me when my family and friends gathered at Temple Beach to share a big moment in my life. The beach is just across from the temple in Laie, Hawaii.
2 The tradewinds were blowing, the sun was hanging low on the horizon, and the waves were lapping gently as we listened to a talk on the importance of baptism.
3 We sang “I Am a Child of God,” and then, after a special prayer was said, I walked into the warm sea to be baptized.
4 My father, Leslie Forester, performed the baptism while my uncle, Chuck Rivers, stood closeby.
5 After the baptism, the three of us headed back to the beach for my confirmation.
6 I was glad to wear the flower leis given to me, for they showed everyone’s aloha, or love, for me.
7 On the beach, with the sound of the surf in the background, I was encircled by members of the priesthood and confirmed a member of the Church.
8 Here I am with my missionary friends. When I grow up, I will go on a mission and perhaps baptize new members into the Church. I am grateful to be a member of the true Church.

Many of these experiences would not have been as powerful had it not been for the background and history of the people and places provided by our guides, Yosie and Dov. They stayed with us wherever we went, and after three weeks our impact on them seemed to be equally as important. Yosie said, “When you sing, I am at peace.”

Dov became our translator in concerts, and at first, he only repeated what Dr. Woodward said. However, by the end of our tour, he was taking almost 20 minutes telling our audiences about the Mormons. He explained that we don’t drink coffee, tea, or alcohol. He talked about Joseph Smith and the gospel. He was bearing testimony without knowing it! His last words to us were, “I am a Jew and will always be Jewish, but there is a light about you that I don’t quite understand.” As he reads and studies the Book of Mormon, we pray he will come to understand more about that light.

Because Heavenly Father is merciful, a principle of compensation prevails. I have seen this in my own life. My grandson Joseph has autism. It has been heartbreaking for his mother and father to come to grips with the implications of this affliction.
They knew that Joseph would probably never be like other children. They understood what that would mean not only for Joseph but for the family as well. But what a joy he has been to us. Autistic children often have a difficult time showing emotion, but every time I’m with him, Joseph gives me a big hug. While there have been challenges, he has filled our lives with joy.
His parents have encouraged him to participate in sports. When he first started playing baseball, he was in the outfield. But I don’t think he grasped the need to run after loose balls. He thought of a much more efficient way to play the game. When a ball was hit in his direction, Joseph watched it go by and then pulled another baseball out of his pocket and threw that one to the pitcher.
Any reservations that his family may have had in raising Joseph, any sacrifices they have made have been compensated tenfold. Because of this choice spirit, his mother and father have learned much about children with disabilities. They have witnessed firsthand the generosity and compassion of family, neighbors, and friends. They have rejoiced together as Joseph has progressed. They have marveled at his goodness.

As a New York boy, I grew up as one of only two or three members of the Church in a high school of a few thousand. At a recent 50-year reunion, my former classmates remembered how I lived according to my values and beliefs. I realized then that one infraction of the Word of Wisdom or transgression of moral values would have meant I could never say, “This is what I believe” and be trusted by my friends.

Imagine that our bishop has appointed you and me to plan a picnic for all of the ward members. It is to be the finest social in the history of the ward, and we are to spare no expense.
We reserve a beautiful picnic ground in the country. We are to have it all to ourselves; no outsiders will interfere with us.
The arrangements go very well, and when the day comes, the weather is perfect. All is beautifully ready. The tables are in one long row. We even have tablecloths and china. You have never seen such a feast. The Relief Society and Young Women have outdone themselves. The tables are laden with every kind of delicious food: cantaloupes, watermelon, corn on the cob, fried chicken, hamburgers, cakes, pies—you get the picture?
We are seated, and the bishop calls upon the patriarch to bless the food. Every hungry youngster secretly hopes it will be a short prayer.
Then, just at that moment there is an interruption. A noisy old car jerks into the picnic grounds and sputters to a stop close to us. We are upset. Didn’t they see the “reserved” signs?
A worried-looking man lifts the hood; a spout of steam comes out. One of our brethren, a mechanic, says, “That car isn’t going anywhere until it is fixed.”
Several children spill from the car. They are ragged and dirty and noisy. And then an anxious mother takes a box to that extra table nearby. It is mealtime. Their children are hungry. She puts a few leftovers on the table. Then she nervously moves them about, trying to make it look like a meal for her hungry brood. But there is not enough.
We wait impatiently for them to quiet down so that we can have the blessing and enjoy our feast.
Then one of their little girls spies our table. She pulls her runny-nosed little brother over to us and pushes her head between you and me. We cringe aside, because they are very dirty. Then the little girl says, “Ummm, look at that. Ummm, ummm, I wonder what that tastes like.”
Everyone is waiting. Why did they arrive just at that moment? Such an inconvenient time. Why must we interrupt what we are doing to bother with outsiders? Why couldn’t they have stopped somewhere else? They are not clean! They are not like us. They just don’t fit in.
Since the bishop has put us in charge, he expects us to handle these intruders. What should we do? Of course, this is only a parable. But now for the test. If it really happened, my young friends, what would you do?
I will give you three choices.
First, you could insist the intruders keep their children quiet while we have the blessing. Thereafter we ignore them. After all, we reserved the place.
I doubt that you would do that. Could you choke down a feast before hungry children? Surely we are better than that! That is not the answer.
The next choice. There is that extra table. And we do have too much of some things. We could take a little of this and a little of that and lure the little children back to their own table. Then we could enjoy our feast without interruption. After all, we earned what we have. Did we not “obtain it by [our own] industry,” as the Book of Mormon says? (See Alma 4:6.)
I hope you would not do that. There is a better answer. You already know what it is.
We should go out to them and invite them to come and join us. You could slide that way, and I could slide this way, and the little girl could sit between us. They could all fit in somewhere to share our feast. Afterward, we will fix their car and provide something for their journey.
Could there be more pure enjoyment than seeing how much we could get those hungry children to eat? Could there be more satisfaction than to interrupt our festivities to help our mechanic fix their car?
Is that what you would do? Surely it is what you should do. But forgive me if I have a little doubt; let me explain.
We, as members of the Church, have the fullness of the gospel. Every conceivable manner of spiritual nourishment is ours. Every part of the spiritual menu is included. It provides an unending supply of spiritual strength. Like the widow’s cruse of oil, it is replenished as we use it and shall never fail. (See 1 Kgs. 17:8–16.)
And yet, there are people across the world and about us—our neighbors, our friends, some in our own families—who, spiritually speaking, are undernourished. Some of them are starving to death!
If we keep all this to ourselves, it is not unlike feasting before those who are hungry.
We are to go out to them, and to invite them to join us. We are to be missionaries.
It does not matter if it interrupts your schooling or delays your career or your marriage—or basketball. Unless you have a serious health problem, every Latter-day Saint young man should answer the call to serve a mission.
Even mistakes and transgressions must not stand in the way. You should make yourself worthy to receive a call.
The early Apostles at first did not know that the gospel was for everyone, for the Gentiles. Then Peter had a vision. He saw a vessel full of all kinds of creatures and was commanded to kill and to eat. But he refused, saying they were common and unclean. Then the voice said, “What God hath cleansed, that call not thou common.” (See Acts 10:9–16.) That vision, and the experience they had immediately following, convinced them of their duty; thus began the great missionary work of all Christianity.
Almost any returned missionary will have a question: “If they are starving spiritually, why do they not accept what we have? Why do they slam the door on us and turn us away?”
One of my sons was serving in Australia and was thrown off a porch by a man who rejected his message.
My son is big enough and strong enough that he had to be somewhat agreeable to what was happening or the man never could have done it.
Be patient if some will not eat when first invited. Remember, all who are spiritually hungry will not accept the gospel. Do you remember how reluctant you are to try any new food? Only after your mother urges you will you take a little, tiny portion on the tip of a spoon to taste it to see if you like it first.
Undernourished children must be carefully fed; so it is with the spiritually underfed. Some are so weakened by mischief and sin that to begin with they reject the rich food we offer. They must be fed carefully and gently.
Some are so near spiritual death that they must be spoonfed on the broth of fellowship, or nourished carefully on activities and programs. As the scriptures say, they must have milk before meat. (See 1 Cor. 3:2; D&C 19:22.) But we must take care lest the only nourishment they receive thereafter is that broth.
But feed them we must. We are commanded to preach the gospel to every nation, kindred, tongue, and people. That message, my young friends, appears more than eighty times in the scriptures.
I did not serve a regular mission until we were called to preside in New England. When I was of missionary age, when I was your age, young men could not be called to the mission field. It was World War II, and I spent four years in the military. But I did do missionary work; we did share the gospel. It was my privilege to baptize one of the first two Japanese to join the Church after the mission had been closed twenty-two years earlier. Brother Elliot Richards baptized Tatsui Sato. I baptized his wife, Chio. And the work in Japan was reopened. We baptized them in a swimming pool amid the rubble of a university that had been destroyed by bombs.
Shortly thereafter I boarded a train in Osaka for Yokohama and a ship that would take me home. Brother and Sister Sato came to the station to say good-bye. Many tears were shed as we bade one another farewell.
It was a very chilly night. The railroad station, what there was left of it, was very cold. Starving children were sleeping in the corners. That was a common sight in Japan in those days. The fortunate ones had a newspaper or a few old rags to fend off the cold.
On that train, I slept restlessly. The berths were too short anyway. In the bleak, chilly hours of the dawn, the train stopped at a station along the way. I heard a tapping on the window and raised the blind. There on the platform stood a little boy tapping on the window with a tin can. I knew he was an orphan and a beggar; the tin can was the symbol of their suffering. Sometimes they carried a spoon as well, as if to say, “I am hungry; feed me.”
He might have been six or seven years old. His little body was thin with starvation. He had on a thin, ragged shirt-like kimono, nothing else. His head was shingled with scabs. His one jaw was swollen—perhaps from an abscessed tooth. Around his head he had tied a filthy rag with a knot on top of his head—a pathetic gesture of treatment.
When I saw him and he saw that I was awake, he waved his can. He was begging. In pity, I thought, “How can I help him?” Then I remembered. I had money, Japanese money. I quickly groped for my clothing and found some yen notes in my pocket. I tried to open the window. But it was stuck. I slipped on my trousers and hurried to the end of the car. He stood outside expectantly. As I pushed at the resistant door, the train pulled away from the station. Through the dirty windows I could see him, holding that rusty tin can, with the dirty rag around his swollen jaw.
There I stood, an officer from a conquering army, heading home to a family and a future. There I stood, half-dressed, clutching some money which he had seen but which I could not get to him. I wanted to help him, but couldn’t. The only comfort I draw is that I did want to help him.
That was thirty-eight years ago, but I can see him as clearly as if it were yesterday.
Perhaps I was scarred by that experience. If so, it is a battle scar, a worthy one, for which I bear no shame. It reminds me of my duty!
Young brethren, I can hear the voice of the Lord saying to each of us just as He said to Peter, “Feed my lambs. … Feed my sheep. … Feed my sheep.” (See John 21:15–17.)
I have unbounded confidence and faith in you, our young brethren. You are the warriors of the Restoration. And in this spiritual battle, you are to relieve the spiritual hunger and feed the sheep. It is your duty!
We have the fullness of the everlasting gospel. We have the obligation to share it with those who do not have it. God grant that we will honor that commission from the Lord and prepare ourselves and answer the call, I humbly pray, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.