Gospel Story Finder

Why is Brother Lenstrom’s carrying case so beat-up? Katie wondered. She was waiting for her dad after church, and Brother Lenstrom’s brown leather carrying case was the only interesting thing to look at. She decided that at church next Sunday she would watch him carefully to see how his case had gotten so shabby.
The next Sunday, when her family got to church, Brother Lenstrom was just ahead of them. Katie ran to see if he had his carrying case. An elderly couple in front of him was struggling with the door, so Brother Lenstrom hurried over and stuck his carrying case in it before it closed on them. The door left a big mark on his carrying case, but Brother Lenstrom just smiled.
Katie took out her piece of paper and wrote:
1. Held door open
When she got to Primary, Katie was glad to see that Brother Lenstrom was a substitute teacher. Now she could keep watching him and his carrying case. He kept it on the floor until singing time, then, to the delight of all the children, used it to beat out the rhythm of “Book of Mormon Stories.” Katie quickly scribbled on her paper:
2. Drum for Primary
Katie persuaded her family to sit in the row behind Brother Lenstrom in sacrament meeting. Sister Brown and her two little boys were sitting next to him. He smiled at the squirming boys, asked Sister Brown something, then took a Friend magazine out of his carrying case. He opened it to the For Little Friends section and gave it to the boys. Katie took out her list and wrote:
3. Holds FRIEND to share
During the meeting, when one of the boys was trying to color a picture, Brother Lenstrom let him use the carrying case as a drawing table. Katie got out her list and wrote:
4. Drawing table
After sacrament meeting Katie didn’t think she’d see Brother Lenstrom again, but she did—at the drinking fountain. He was helping a small boy reach the water by using his carrying case as a stepping stool. Katie wrote on her list:
5. Stepping stool
On the way home, while she looked at her list, she realized that Brother Lenstrom’s beat-up carrying case was always used in the service of others. It was more than an ordinary carrying case—it was a “caring case!”

It’s the moment every high school athlete dreams of: cameras flashing, parents beaming, coaches applauding, a gold medal, laced with a ribbon, gently placed around your neck. But for Andrea Nelson, it just wasn’t right.
All runners had crossed the line for the girls’ 3,200-meter race at the Washington State High School Track and Field Championships. They had just caught their breath when the whispers started. Someone would be disqualified.
“Is it me?” each girl asked herself. They then waited in uncertainty for more than an hour.
At last, a judge ruled that the first-place runner, Nicole, would lose her place. She had supposedly stepped outside the lane for three consecutive steps. The other runners would move up, taking the stand one place higher than the order in which they crossed the finish line. Andrea had finished three seconds behind Nicole but would now be given first place.
At that moment two-time state cross country champion Andrea Nelson (17) of the Woodridge Ward, Spokane North Stake, made a decision that would catch the attention of out-of-state newspapers, land her on ESPN, and even cause her to be featured in Sports Illustrated magazine.
“My coach asked, ‘What are you going to do?’ I said, ‘Well, I’m going to give her the medal,’” Andrea remembers saying.
After being given the gold medal, she jumped without hesitation from the highest stand, ran over to Nicole and placed the medal around her neck, saying it belonged to her because she won the race.
The energy from Andrea’s simple gesture started a domino effect of selfless giving. Next, the second-place runner gave up her medal to Andrea, followed by third to second, and so on, until all eight girls gave up their medals. The eighth-place girl, who chose to forfeit her medal without a replacement in mind, later received a medal Nicole won in another race.
Andrea’s mother, Edie, says, “There is no way to describe how that felt and the way that people were responding. You just had to be there.” After the runners exchanged medals, Edie says, “A reporter ran past Brother Nelson with tears in his eyes saying he wished he could talk but was on deadline and, besides, he couldn’t get control of his emotions anyway.”
Ten days later, race officials reinstated Nicole as the winner after reviewing video of the race. But at the time Andrea made her decision, no one knew that would happen. The reinstated winner, Nicole, told Sports Illustrated, “It gave me chills. It was just an incredible, surprising thing for Andrea to do, because it wasn’t her fault. No one would have blamed her if she kept the medal.”
But Andrea knows how it feels to win a race. And that wasn’t what she felt that day. To her, violation or not, the other girl had earned a spot on the stand. “I’d rather win it the right way instead of having it given to me,” she says. She understands the Savior’s counsel: “Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them” (Matthew 7:12).
For a girl nearly through high school, Andrea has received a lot of attention. After the track meet and before the beginning of summer vacation, newspapers and sportswriters were calling her high school to get her out of class as many as three times in a day. “I wasn’t expecting this to be a big deal. I just thought it was the right thing to do.”
But being looked up to or talked about isn’t really what motivates Andrea. When people mention her giving up the medal, she doesn’t break stride: “I don’t want to be the center of attention.” That’s Andrea. Like the eight other runners who followed her example, she’s just glad she could do the right thing when the moment presented itself.

Ashlyn was excited to show Grandma what she got in Primary.
“Look, Grandma!” Ashlyn said. “It’s my tree.”
Grandma smiled. “Your family tree,” she said.
Ashlyn nodded. The tree had seven faces connected by lines. “Which one are you, Grandma?”
Grandma pointed to the tree. “I’m here, and Grandpa is here. This one is your dad. We’re his parents.”
“Who’s here?”Ashlyn asked.
“Grandma and Grandpa Clark,” Grandma said. “They’re your mom’s parents.”
“And this is me!” Ashlyn pointed to the picture at the bottom.
“You’re right!” Grandma said.
“But where are Jace and Maggie?” Ashlyn asked.
“It doesn’t show brothers and sisters,” Grandma said.
Ashlyn thought about that. Sometimes Maggie pulled Ashlyn’s hair. Sometimes Jace wanted to draw in her notebook. But Ashlyn was still glad to have them in her family.
She drew two more faces next to her on her family tree.
“I made it even better,” Ashlyn told Grandma. She pointed to where she had drawn Maggie and Jace.
Grandma put her arm around Ashlyn. “I think you made a perfect family tree.”

One cool, misty morning last October, Don stood near the gigantic rocket, talking to the Mia Maids and teachers from his own ward. One of them was his daughter Lisa. He had just given them a tour of one of the simulators he used in training for the Skylab 3 flight. They had learned the function of the various gauges and switches, discussed how men work in weightlessness, talked about emergency procedures. They had sat in chairs just like those the astronauts would use and marveled at the incredible investment of time and training a person must make to take his or her place in one of those seats.
Now Brother Lind told them a little bit about the Saturn V rocket and the Apollo mission.
Then he talked to them about another journey, another mission, the one all mortals undertake, about the other mission control, and about the training that can get mortal adventurers home safely with their mission fulfilled.
“If we’ve learned anything in the space program,” he said, “it’s that we don’t want to make emergency decisions during an emergency. We want to think ahead of time about all the kinds of things that might come up and have preplanned decisions, which we call the mission rules, on what we’re going to do. When you go off to college and get invited to a fraternity rush party, and somebody shoves a glass of beer or a cocktail into your hand, if you have never thought about whether you believe in the Word of Wisdom, that’s far too late. Or if some guy pulls into a dark, country lane with you, that is not the time to start deciding if you believe in chastity. You should have decided that a long time beforehand. When we train for a flight we practice our procedures for every possible emergency through lifelike simulations. Then if a real emergency comes up we already know exactly what to do. So you’d better review your lovers’ lane procedures before you get there, or what you’re going to do in the military base before you get off the base and some new buddy says, ‘Come on with me. I’ll take you to a great place.’
“In life you’re going to get in these tight situations where, in a sense, you’re drastically alone. There may be 50 other people at the fraternity rush party, but boy, if you’ve never turned down your first cocktail, you’re going to feel all alone, and it’s going to be your background and your training and what you’ve thought out ahead of time that’s going to get you through some of those critical things.”
Don couldn’t be with them long, because he had many duties, but the young men and women had been dismissed from school till after lunch, so they took a tour of the visitors’ center, tracing the U.S. space program from the very beginning right up to the present. But although their heads were full of lunar buggies and Gemini capsules, they went away that day with an increased understanding that their own mission was far more important than anything that would ever come out of NASA.

For my second example I turn to the release of a stake president in Star Valley, Wyoming—even the late E. Francis Winters. He had served faithfully for the lengthy term of twenty-three years. Though modest by nature and circumstance, he had been a perpetual pillar of strength to everyone in the valley. On the day of the stake conference, the building was filled to overflowing. Each heart seemed to be saying a silent thank-you to this noble leader who had given so unselfishly of his life for the benefit of others.
As I stood to speak following the reorganization of the stake presidency, I was prompted to do something I had not done before, nor have I done so since. I stated how long Francis Winters had presided in the stake; then I asked all whom he had blessed or confirmed as children to stand and remain standing. Then I asked all those persons whom President Winters had ordained, set apart, personally counseled, or blessed to please stand. The outcome was electrifying. Every person in the audience rose to his feet. Tears flowed freely—tears which communicated better than could words the gratitude of tender hearts. I turned to President and Sister Winters and said, “We are witnesses today of the prompting of the Spirit. This vast throng reflects not only individual feelings but also the gratitude of God for a life well lived.” No person who was in the congregation that day will forget how he felt when he witnessed the language of the Spirit of the Lord.

7. The friendly but inaccessible person. This is the kind of person I was. I remember telling the missionaries: “I’m very impressed with what you’re doing; I think it’s wonderful—but I have no desire to change. I have a good job, a car, a home, a lovely wife, and fine children. I’m perfectly happy.” What they asked me to do was to think about the time of death, when I would lose all of these things. You know, that’s a shocking subject. I hadn’t given it much thought—and most people hadn’t. I had to agree that there were other things.
I still didn’t want to part from my friends and give up what I thought were the good things of life, though. Fortunately, the Lord had blessed me with a companion to help me in the most important ways. She had a testimony from the beginning and would not be baptized without me. It made me really think about what was important to me and what was important to both of us together. Once I thought beyond salary and security, I knew what I wanted.

Your “Scavengers Welcome” article in the March issue was so impressive that we just had to try it. And try it we did, with about 500 youth at our regional Mia Maid and teacher conference. It was great!
We used between 80 and 90 cooperative adults as team leaders and divided the youth up into teams of unsuspecting strangers. We then sent them out to impress an apprehensive city. Our youth gave piggyback rides to children, pulled weeds, washed cars, and along with several other things, sang Primary songs to a new type of audience!
Our feedback included the comment from one team leader that “Actually doing it was a lot better than reading about it in the New Era.” This is an activity we would like to encourage others to participate in as it is a fulfilling and rewarding experience for both the participant and the recipient.
Deanna ElisonRichland, Washington

As a mother of three young children, I have often found it difficult to take time for personal scripture study. And sometimes when our children are restless, our family scripture study has not been very rewarding.
One Sunday during a moment of quiet contemplation, I pondered these problems. Softly the answer came. If I studied at least one chapter in the scriptures daily, then at night I could review the chapter with my family.
The review is simple. First, I give a brief overview of the chapter. Next, I relate my feelings and impressions about it. Finally, I read several phrases and verses I feel are important.
Through my studying, I have gained a greater understanding of the scriptures. My husband learns from my summaries even while he plays with our children, and I can speak in terms my toddler understands. Our family has received many blessings from this answer to prayer.

For generations it has inspired those who read it. Herbert Schreiter had read his German translation of the Book of Mormon. In it he read:
“When ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.
“And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.”
Herbert Schreiter tested the promise and joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
In 1946, released as a prisoner of war, Herbert returned to his wife and three little daughters in Leipzig, Germany. Soon thereafter, he went as a missionary to Bernburg, Germany. Alone, without a companion, he sat cold and hungry in a room, wondering how he should begin.
He thought of what he had to offer the war-devastated people. He printed by hand a placard which read, “Will there be a further life after death?” and posted it on a wall.
About that same time, a family from a small village in Poland came to Bernburg.
Manfred Schütze was four years old. His father had been killed in the war. His mother, with his grandparents and his mother’s sister, also a widow, and her two little girls, were forced to evacuate their village with only 30 minutes’ notice. They grabbed what they could and headed west. Manfred and his mother pulled and pushed a small cart. At times, the ailing grandfather rode in the cart. One Polish officer looked at the pathetic little Manfred and began to weep.
At the border, soldiers ransacked their belongings and threw their bedding into the river. Manfred and his mother were then separated from the family. His mother wondered if they might have gone to Bernburg, where her grandmother was born, perhaps to relatives there. After weeks of unbelievable suffering, they arrived in Bernburg and found the family.
The seven of them lived together in one small room. But their troubles were not over. The mother of the two little girls died. The grieving grandmother cried out for a preacher, and asked, “Will I see my family again?”
The preacher answered, “My dear lady, there is no such thing as the Resurrection. They who are dead are dead!”
They wrapped the body in a paper bag for burial.
On the way from the grave, the grandfather talked of taking their own lives, as many others had done. Just then they saw the placard that Elder Schreiter had posted on the building—“Is there further life after death?”—with an invitation from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. At a meeting, they learned of the Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ.
The book explains:
The purpose of mortal life and death;
The certainty of life after death;
What happens when the spirit leaves the body;
The description of the Resurrection;
How to receive and retain a remission of your sins;
What hold justice or mercy may have on you;
What to pray for;
Priesthood;
Covenants and ordinances;
The office and ministry of angels;
The still, small voice of personal revelation;
And preeminently, the mission of Jesus Christ;
And many other jewels that make up the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
They joined the Church. Soon their lives changed. The grandfather found work as a baker and could provide bread for his family and also for Elder Schreiter, who had given them “the bread of life.”
Then help came from the Church in the United States. Manfred grew up eating grain out of little sacks with a picture of a beehive on them and peaches from California. He wore clothes from the welfare supplies of the Church.
Manfred Schütze is now a member of the Third Quorum of Seventy and supervises our seminaries in Eastern Europe. His mother, now 88, still attends the temple at Freiberg, where Herbert Schreiter once served as a counselor to the president.

José sat straight and solemn in his seat as he looked around at his classmates. He was lonely and homesick for the beloved land of his heart—South America. It seemed to him he could almost smell the fragrant air and see the colors of the dazzling tropical flowers around the Jesuit mission (now part of Argentina) where he had been born. He longed again for the sunny days of play with his brothers and sister and their Guarani Indian friends in the rich fruit orchards that bordered the banks of the great Uruguay River.
He remembered the friendliness of the boys in Buenos Aires, Argentina, where he had gone to school briefly. But now his father had been transferred to Madrid, Spain, and he had been enrolled in a school attended by boys from rich and influential families. Every day he felt more an outsider, more the disliked Creole son of a poor family.
None of his classmates, nor José himself, could have known that this shy, silent boy from South America would one day become one of its greatest leaders! Even though he was only seven years old, José vowed that someday he would return to the land of his birth. Twenty-six years later he did. Between that promise he made to himself and its fulfillment, José prepared well for all he had to do.
When he was only eleven he was accepted into the Spanish army, where his three older brothers were already serving. Three years later he was sent with an infantry battalion to Africa to defend a fort against the Moors. There he fought in bloody battles, the heat was exhausting, and an earthquake shook the town to pieces.
Records show that José was cited often for heroism, that he was an unusually capable young officer, and that he soon became a respected and honored colonel in the Spanish army. Then, after more than twenty years of service, José learned that the South American colonies had broken with Spain. The year was 1811.
José resigned from the army, and with a group of eager young men he set sail for the land of his birth. Soon after their arrival in Buenos Aires, they became friendly with other young men who were anxious to fight for freedom. José de San Martín became their leader; they were glad to be his followers. He was a soldier of worldwide experience, young enough to be on equal terms with his men, and one who was firm but always fair.
He once gave an order that no one could enter the munition lab wearing military boots or spurs, for fear that a spark struck by the iron might cause an explosion. A guard was stationed at the door to enforce the order.
One day José appeared wearing both boots and spurs. The guard stopped him. “You cannot pass, my general,” he said.
“I was the one who gave the order,” answered José, “so I can change it.”
“True,” replied the guard, “but up to now the order stands. You cannot go in.”
The next day José came back but again the guard refused to let him enter the lab wearing his boots and spurs. José left and later returned wearing a pair of sandals.
In a few minutes the guard was summoned to the general’s office. José de San Martín put out his hand in greeting and said, “I have brought you here to congratulate you. It is always good to know a man who obeys orders.”
Even more amazing than José’s dependable fairness was his total unconcern for personal glory. He had the officers and men under him agree on rules of conduct and then enforce these rules themselves. On the first Sunday of each month José called a meeting to urge them to keep high standards and to rededicate themselves to liberate South America.
This group was successful in winning battles in Argentina, and then José began to plan to free Chile. In order to do so, it was necessary to take his army of 3,500 men across the rugged snow-topped mountain ranges of the Andes. The Andes have an average width of 150 miles and an average height of 12,000 feet. The only roads were narrow, steep, and dangerous paths that wound around deep gorges and over jagged peaks.
Even the women and children in and around Mendoza, Argentina, where the march began, participated in the final preparations. The women brought their precious jewels to José to be exchanged for food and equipment. The children went from door to door collecting blankets, clean rags, and whatever could be used for bandages or for protection against the intense below-zero cold of the Andes.
One man had room in his saddlebags for nothing but the medical supplies for José, who was almost always ill with asthma, rheumatism, stomach ulcers, and various other ailments. But neither impassable mountains, severe illness, lack of money, lonely separation from his young wife and little daughter, nor other obstacles could stop this man whose dream was to free the people of South America from what he believed was the unfair government of Spain.
Finally all was in readiness. The night before the army left Mendoza, mule packs and oxcarts went through streets that had been strewn with flowers, as everyone gathered to hold special prayers and to pledge again their dedication to freedom.
The army made an unbelievable crossing of the Andes despite storm, cold, illness, and other hardships. This march prepared the way for the establishment of independence for both Chile and Peru.
In the meantime another great general, Simon Bolivar, was successfully leading an army that was fighting for the freedom of Spanish colonies in the north. José felt that the armies should join together and arranged a meeting of the two leaders. He offered to give up his command and serve under Bolivar. Both men were sincere patriots, but they had very different ideas. San Martín’s only desire was to free the people; Bolivar had ambitions to rule after the military victories were won. José decided he must avoid any possible conflict that might hurt the cause of freedom. During a party given in honor of the two generals, he slipped quietly away. As soon as he could, he resigned from all command and invited Bolivar to carry on his work.
José’s lovely young wife had died while he was away. José took their little daughter, Mercedes, and went with her into exile in Europe. She became the joy of his life. He planned what he must teach her, just as he had always planned his battles. On a chart he wrote his ideals for her:
To make her kind and gentle.
To make her love truth and hate lies.
To inspire her with a feeling of confidence and friendship.
To arouse in her a charity toward the poor and unfortunate.
To arouse in her respect for other people’s property.
To accustom her to keep a secret.
To inspire in her a respect toward all religions.
To teach her to speak little and to speak accurately.
Her father was Mercedes’ great example.
During his lifetime José de San Martín refused salaries, promotions, prizes, and honors. The government of Chile once gave him money that he immediately returned for a public library. A farm he was given was used as a hospital for women. He died in Boulogne, France, a poor and almost unknown man. He knew that others with whom he had fought were enjoying fame and fortune, but he cared only for the freedom of the people of South America.
In the past few years the world has come to know José de San Martín and to honor him as one of the great men of all time. Statues have been raised to his memory and many public buildings have been named for him. With special love and gratitude the people of the countries of South America that he helped to free refer to him as the “Saint of the Sword.”

During an informal fireside address held with a group of adult Latter-day Saints, the leader directing the discussion invited participation by asking the question, “How can you tell if someone is converted to Jesus Christ?” For forty-five minutes those in attendance made numerous suggestions in response to this question, and the leader carefully wrote down each answer on a large blackboard. All of the comments were thoughtful and appropriate. But after a time, this great teacher erased everything he had written. Then, acknowledging that all of the comments had been worthwhile and appreciated, he taught a vital principle: “The best and most clear indicator that we are progressing spiritually and coming unto Christ is the way we treat other people.”

Several years ago I made a presentation to a group of 20 managers in a large computer company. After the presentation, I asked them to describe a person in their organization who they felt was blocked and frustrated in his or her career. We heard about 20 different people who had specialized in a narrow area, and in many cases the company no longer needed the specialty. The managers were surprised that they had such a pervasive problem. But I was not surprised, because we had found that problem in dozens of organizations.

By the time my husband and I graduated, we had been married for a year. Elder Russell M. Nelson (at the time, he was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles) came to speak at our graduation. A luncheon followed, and only 16 students were invited to attend. Oddly enough, both my husband I were selected to be there. When the discussion was opened for questions and answers. I raised my hand, looked Elder Nelson in the eye, and expressed my concerns about being both an artist and a mother. I had worked so hard to build my talents in school, and I wanted to continue to work hard and improve, but I also knew that motherhood took precedence. Was there a way to do both? Elder Nelson’s eyes sparkled as he replied, “Absolutely!” He encouraged me to improve upon my talents and to pray to Heavenly Father for help in knowing how I could do both and that with Him, I would be able to do things I once thought impossible. I took that advice to heart.

President David O. McKay tells of a singular event that happened to him. After falling asleep, he said he “beheld in vision something infinitely sublime.” He saw a beautiful city, a great concourse of people dressed in white, and the Savior.
“The city, I understood, was his. It was the City Eternal; and the people following him were to abide there in peace and eternal happiness.
“But who were they?
“As if the Savior read my thoughts, he answered by pointing to a semicircle that then appeared above them, and on which were written in gold the words:
“These Are They Who Have Overcome the World—Who Have Truly Been Born Again!
“When I awoke, it was breaking day.” (Cherished Experiences from the Writings of President David O. McKay, comp. Clare Middlemiss, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1976, pp. 59–60.)

I recall a few years ago we had a call from a stake president. He said, “I haven’t been able to resolve this situation. Would you be good enough to help us?” We arranged a time and met with a young man from Brigham Young University—265 pounds, an all-conference tackle—and his mom and his dad. This young man was a sophomore with two more years of football to play. His mom thought it would be nice if he played football, but his dad wanted him to go on a mission. The more interviews there were, the more confusion there was. After the usual greetings, I looked at the mother by the side of this football player big enough to pull a plow and said, “Do I understand right that you favor your son’s playing football?” She said, “Yes, I think I lean in that direction.” I looked at the father and said, “Am I right in assuming you would like to have your son go on a mission at this time?” He said, “Yes, I lean in that direction.” So I looked at the football player and said, “What would you like to do?” He said, “I’d like to go on a mission.” I said, “Why don’t you?” The interview was over and he went on a mission! I love those difficult situations! How much fun I could have had if I’d spent a half hour arguing about which comes first and when, how, and where.

Dear Journal,
Today as I was leaving for school, I looked at the picture of Jesus on our wall. It reminded me that I was trying to be more like Him, so I decided to do something nice for someone as soon as possible. At school I saw a new girl wandering around looking lost, so I smiled and asked if she needed help. She said that she was just waiting for a friend, so I smiled again and walked on to class. I searched all day at school and all the way home afterward, but I didn’t see anyone to help.
When I got home, Mom was on the phone, and I could tell that she was talking to her friend Mary. When Mom talks to her, they’re on the phone a long time. Mom told me once that Mary was going through tough times and needed someone to listen to her.
I was on my way to my room when I remembered that I still hadn’t done something nice for someone. My nose told me that the baby needed a diaper change, and I decided that I could be like Jesus right in my own home! I was getting the diaper stuff so Mom could keep talking while she changed Annie, when I asked myself, What would Jesus do? I knew the answer. Jesus taught us to go the second mile, and He loved little children. I took Annie out of the playpen and changed her diaper myself.
It was so smelly that I almost took her to Mom, after all, but I didn’t. Mom saw me and gave me a huge smile that lit up her whole face. Annie grinned and cooed at me! I felt so good that before Mom got off the phone, I picked up Charlie’s toys in the living room and put them away.
Tonight when I was getting into bed, Mom came in and gave me a big hug and a kiss and told me how much she appreciated what I did for her. I felt a warm feeling in my heart as I hugged her back. I’m glad that I listened to President Hunter and tried to be a little more like Jesus. I can’t wait for the next general conference—I’m going to listen even better.

Does hiking 16 miles in the Arizona desert pulling a handcart sound like a good time? Well, for more than 225 young men and young women in the Mesa Arizona Kimball East Stake it was a great time.
The “trekkers” marched 12 miles the first day along the original Mormon Battalion Trail southwest of Phoenix. They traveled near the exact location where the Mormon Battalion was on Christmas Day, 150 years ago.
The eight companies, each including three handcarts with “Ma’s, Pa’s and children,” made camp on the second day, when they did a whole lot of “pioneering.” Many priests, Laurels, teachers and Mia Maids learned to kill a chicken and cook it.
“We did what they did,” says Rayna Martinez, 14, of the Sunny Mesa Ward, “but they had to do it every single day. It sure makes you more thankful for everything you have.”
The last day of the trek included hiking and pulling the handcarts about four more miles and ended when the tired and dusty youth were treated to a barbecue.
“It strengthened my testimony,” says Ronda Abel, 16, of the Fairfield Ward. “The pioneers went through all that because they knew that what they believed in was true. They endured those hardships. That makes me stronger. I know that if I ever have to stand up for what I believe in, I will because I’ll remember what they went through.”

In late fall 1838, Hyrum and Mary Fielding Smith awaited the birth of their first child in the midst of escalating conflict between old Missouri settlers and large numbers of newly arrived Latter-day Saints. When violence erupted, the governor ordered the Latter-day Saints to leave the state or face “extermination.” Hundreds of Church members lost their property, and a number lost their lives. Several Church leaders—Hyrum, his brother the Prophet Joseph Smith, and others—were unjustly jailed. Years later President Smith would begin a sketch of his life with these words: “I was born in Far West, Caldwell Co. Missouri, 13 days after my Father was taken a prisoner by the mob.”4

During four long months, Hyrum and Joseph and others suffered in Liberty Jail. Mary Fielding Smith, who had just given birth to her “dear little Joseph F.,” struggled to care for her newborn and the five surviving children from Hyrum’s first marriage to Jerusha Barden Smith, who had died in 1837.

While Mary lay bedridden, ruffians attacked the Smith home, ransacking the family’s belongings and nearly smothering the infant Joseph F. with bedding they tossed aside. Mary and the children, aided by Mary’s sister Mercy Fielding Thompson, joined the Saints’ forced exodus from Missouri. Hyrum was finally reunited with his family on 22 April 1839 at Quincy, Illinois, and in June, the family moved up the Mississippi River to settle with other Saints in Nauvoo, Illinois.

Aaron’s experience at Sinai reminds me of a similar experience I had as the leader of a small group of men in my army platoon at Fort Ord, California.

Our platoon was preparing for a special inspection; after cleaning the barracks, the men went outside to clean their gear. The platoon sergeant called the four squad leaders into the barracks where he noted a few tasks that still needed to be completed. He told me to call some of my men in to do these jobs. So I opened a window and called out to three men in my squad, “Sergeant Carrington wants you to come in and do some more work!”

As I turned around, Sergeant Carrington asked, “What did you tell your men?”

“I told them you wanted them to come in and do some more work.”

“No,” he said, “I told you to call your men in to do the work. You know what to do.” In Sergeant Carrington’s language, “You know what to do” was an order to do one hundred pushups, right then.

I was frustrated and embarrassed at the time; but after a few hours, I began to appreciate what he was teaching me. I was the men’s squad leader, and I had the authority to order them into the barracks to do their jobs. Instead I had used Sergeant Carrington’s name and authority to try and impress the men to do their work.

Brigham Young’s natural ability pushed him to the forefront. He was chosen one of the Camp’s captains. Frequently he preached. At times he was delegated to procure provisions. Always he closely observed Joseph Smith’s leadership and acquired experience. However, not all of the men yielded to Joseph’s leadership without murmuring. The difficulty of the march made weak-spirited men complain. “We had to be troubled with uneasy, unruly and discontented spirits,” Brigham Young recollected. “This was the first time we had ever travelled in the capacity of a large company … Brother Joseph led, counselled and guided the company, and contended against those unruly, evil disposed persons.” (Journal of Discourses 10:20.)