Gospel Story Finder

Just about everybody at the Air Force Academy knows who Jake Oldham is. It’s hard not to.
Jake was the Top Graduate, number one in his class for combined academic, athletic, and military scores. In his four years at the academy, with a double major in premedicine and mechanical engineering, he maintained a 3.969 grade-point average.
Jake earned a spot in the drum and bugle corps. He was number one at the academy in his weight division in boxing and placed third at nationals. And he was one of four group commanders (a leader of 1,000 cadets). No wonder he got a standing ovation at the awards ceremony.
Jake spent graduation week meeting generals and VIPs. His photo was on the front page of the Colorado Springs Gazette Telegraph. He sat in the first chair of 916 chairs at graduation. His name was added to the 100-year honor roll.
Despite all these accolades, Jake earned a reputation as a modest, polite young man. “He always showed a profound respect for others,” said John Hasler, director of the Colorado Springs LDS Institute. “He always stood up when you entered the room. He always shook your hand and looked you in the eyes. It was more than just being polite. He made each person feel important.” One military officer described him as “a perfect poster boy for the Air Force Academy.”
Jake graduated in May 1996. He is now studying medicine at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, on his way to becoming a military doctor.
That’s quite a list of accomplishments, particularly for someone who once resigned from the academy with no guarantee he’d be allowed to return. A lot of people at the academy know that story about Jake Oldham, too.
Jake accepted a call from the Lord, signed by a living prophet, to serve full-time in the Japan Sapporo Mission of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. That meant resigning, leaving the lofty realms of the academy for the even higher heights of the mission field.
“I prayed about it a lot,” says Jake, who comes from Kaysville, Utah. “I knew it was what I needed to do. Some things are important enough that, no matter how difficult, they are worth doing.
“And my mission was a great experience. I have never spent two years, even at the academy, so focused on one thing—learning the gospel and teaching it.
“My mission not only gave me an opportunity to love the Japanese people and to share the gospel with them, but it also did a lot to help me understand myself and to strengthen my testimony.”
As his two-year mission came to a close, however, Jake had to face the reality that he might not be reappointed to the place cadets call “the hill.” “I had to apply all over again, compete with a new group of potential appointees, and try to communicate with the admissions officers clear from Japan. I was a bit apprehensive,” Jake explains.
Even though the process is tough, he was greeted with open arms. “I discovered that the academy is learning to respect returned missionaries. We come back as better leaders, better people, just better officer-candidates all-around. The things they teach us in the mission field about loving and helping people—those are traits that make anybody a better person.”

Elder Spori’s labors extended as far as Joppa, Damascus, and Jerusalem. It was here in the land of Palestine that he discovered how miracles can come about through small means.
By local law all Christians had to be out of the city of Haifa before the gates were locked at dusk. But Elder Spori was working in that city with an investigator who was ill at the time. The young Mormon elder hated to leave until he was sure his friend was better. That evening, with the investigator getting better, Jacob made plans to leave the city. He knew the gates were locked and that getting caught meant going to jail. As he walked along the city’s shore, pondering what to do, he watched the fishing boats coming into port. He noticed some men preparing the nets for the next day’s work and had the feeling he should help them. He stepped up and began working; no one seemed to notice him. When the work was finally done the men rolled up the nets, got into the small boat and prepared to set sail. Without a word Elder Spori also got into the boat. Before long they were on the sea. The next day the boat landed at Cairo, and Elder Spori jumped from the boat, went into the city, and resumed preaching the gospel.

An interesting experiment in social psychology investigates how much the judgments of others influence the way we see things. A psychologist built a small machine containing a bright light which could be switched on in pinpoint bursts. When one views a small burst of light in a dark room, the light appears to move, even though the machine producing the light is stable and doesn’t move at all. This is called the autokinetic (self-movement) effect, and it plays an important role in this experiment.
During the first stage of the experiment one person, let’s call him Bill, is led into a dark room and instructed to judge how far the tiny pinpoints of light move each time he sees a burst of light. His judgment is two centimeters the first time, three centimeters the second time, and four centimeters the third time. After several trials he settles on three centimeters as his average judgment.
Bill is then excused from the room, and Susan is invited to be seated several feet from the light machine. She then voices her judgments each time she sees a burst of light. She begins with three centimeters, then two centimeters, and she finally begins to repeat estimates of about one centimeter.
After her judgments have been recorded, Bill is then invited back into the room with Susan, and both of them are instructed to voice their individual estimates of another series of light bursts. After the first burst Bill says, “three centimeters,” and Susan counters with “one centimeter.” On the next trial Susan says, “one and a half,” and Bill replies, “two and a half.” After several subsequent trials, they concur that the light moves two centimeters each time.
The interesting conclusion to this experiment may appear, at first, to be trivial, but in many regards it is profound. The light never moves. It is only our perceptions of the light that change. As we associate with others whose opinions differ from our own, their judgments often influence how we view things, and we, in turn, influence their view of the world.

Growing up, I was often exposed to alcohol, tea, and coffee, mostly when I would spend time with my extended family. My immediate family and I are the only members of the Church among my relatives, and sometimes it felt disheartening and isolating when others would look down on my beliefs. But I knew God was real, I had faith in His restored gospel and in my baptismal covenants, and I knew He wanted me to make good decisions.
When I moved to London, England, in my early twenties, I began working at an international bank. Everyone lived off tea and coffee to get them through the workday on our fast-moving trade floor. On my second day of work, my manager made me a cup of tea. I thanked her but explained that I don’t drink tea—she quickly offered me coffee instead.
I knew she was just being kind, but I was determined to keep my standards. Although I felt a little awkward, I explained in greater detail why I don’t drink tea or coffee, and I was able to share some of my beliefs with her, including the Word of Wisdom.
That was a great experience, but similar situations didn’t always go as well.
As time went on, being surrounded by the normalcy of others drinking alcohol made it difficult for me to keep my standards. Going to pubs with clients and coworkers was a regular circumstance I would find myself in. I grew tired of having to explain myself when I turned down a drink, and sometimes I just wanted to fit in.
But beyond wanting to fit in, I wanted to be an example of a disciple of Jesus Christ, so I learned a few ways to help me resist temptation:
I prayed for strength each morning to make good decisions.
I often listened to conference talks or hymns on my way to work.
I kept my favorite scripture taped to my bathroom mirror to read each day: “Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things” (Alma 26:12).
I enlisted the help of my closest coworkers, asking them to support me when others would offer me “just one drink.” They could tell when I was feeling uncomfortable and would kindly jump in and order me a “sparkling water on the rocks” to help me avoid feeling awkward during these gatherings.
I worked with many other religious individuals who had similar morals. There were a few practicing Muslims whom I bonded with, and we often sat together during work functions so we could have strength in numbers. Surrounding myself with like-minded people who respected my standards helped me immensely (see Ecclesiastes 4:9–10).
I strove to focus on my baptismal covenant to “always remember Him” (see Doctrine and Covenants 20:77, 79), which helped me feel the Spirit more abundantly. I had promised to follow God and be a disciple of Christ, and seeking to always remember the Savior helped me keep an eternal and infinite perspective in the most finite moments of temptation.
But what has helped me most in resisting temptation is knowing that the Lord has a higher purpose for keeping all of His commandments, including the Word of Wisdom. And I know that remaining true to the commandments has always blessed my life in so many ways. (See Doctrine and Covenants 82:10.)
I’ve realized that the Word of Wisdom is more than just going without alcohol and other strong substances. Heavenly Father gave us this commandment to help us maintain good health and practice self-mastery, to protect us from potentially crippling addictions and other consequences, and to allow us to find greater wisdom and knowledge (see Doctrine and Covenants 89).
I’ve seen that when we demonstrate obedience to the simple things the Lord asks of us, our capacity and desire to keep all of His commandments grows, and we can learn to overcome even greater temptations and challenges (see 2 Nephi 28:30).
I know that Heavenly Father loves me and that through His strength and the Savior’s, I can overcome peer pressure and temptation. I always remember Alma 7:11–12, which explains how the Savior understands all we face—pains, afflictions, and even temptations. He knows how “to succor his people according to their infirmities.”
As I have relied on Jesus Christ to help me in my weaknesses, I have felt His strength enter my life, and I more fully see that He truly does understand us. And when we are faced with temptation, He is ready to help us see the bigger picture and choose well. All we need to do is turn to Him.
You can submit your own article, ideas, or feedback at liahona.ChurchofJesusChrist.org. We can’t wait to hear from you!

I had been a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints only a short while, and I was very happy. I arose early every Sunday to attend church with my young daughter, and I knew I was being well fed spiritually. Then one Sunday I had a disturbing experience.
It was ward conference, and when our stake president spoke, his words were very special to me. Then he said, “Brothers and sisters, I would like you to raise your right hand to show that you sustain President Gordon B. Hinckley as our prophet and President of the Church.” All 50 or so members of my ward raised their hands—except me. The stake president then asked that we sustain the other General Authorities. Once again I did not raise my hand. Finally he asked us to sustain our local leaders. “Now I can raise my hand,” I thought. “I know these leaders, so I can sustain them.”
No one asked me why I had not raised my hand to sustain the prophet and the General Authorities—probably because they knew I was a new member of the Church. But the experience continued to disturb me. “How can I sustain President Hinckley when I do not know him?” I wondered. “And how can I possibly know him when I live in Brazil and he lives in the United States? To sustain him, I need to know him and see him face to face.”
Then the Spirit began to speak to me: “You never saw Jesus Christ face to face, but you sustain Him.”
“Yes, but I know Him through the scriptures, which testify of Him.”
“You can also know the prophet, even without seeing him face to face.”
“How?”
“By reading and pondering his words. Pray for guidance from Heavenly Father, and He will help you to understand how to sustain the prophet.”
And that is what I did. During the following days I read several of President Hinckley’s talks. I watched him and listened to him speak on videos, observing every detail I could about him and his teachings. And I prayed for understanding.
Then one day as I was reading an article in the Liahona, President Hinckley’s words penetrated my soul deeply: “It is never too late to learn. I believe this with all my heart” (“A Conversation with Single Adults,” Liahona, Nov. 1997, 22; Ensign, Mar. 1997, 62). I also believed with all my heart and felt that it was not too late for me to learn.
For a long time I looked at the picture of the prophet printed beside his article. Suddenly I felt as though I were right in front of him. I looked at his eyes—eyes that seemed to speak of eternity. I looked at his face—which radiated peace. I had studied his teachings and felt the Spirit testify of them. For the first time I knew that I knew President Hinckley and that I could trust him and sustain him.
Profound well-being enveloped me, and I felt a desire to raise my right hand, not only in front of the members of my ward, but in front of the entire world. Through the witness of the Spirit, I could declare with complete conviction, “I too sustain the prophet.”

Elsa Jacobsen had a problem. After years of working hard in school and excelling in the classroom, on the student council, and in the ballet studio, she had created a situation for herself that she didn’t quite know how to handle. Several top universities, including Stanford University located near Palo Alto, California, were vying to have Elsa as a student. All were great schools, some were offering attractive scholarship packages, and any of them would provide lots of great learning opportunities.
“I finally narrowed it down,” says 18-year-old Elsa, “and after a lot of fasting and prayer I received a peaceful confirmation about coming to Stanford. From the time I arrived here, I knew why. I love it here.”
Everyone should be so lucky to have problems like that, right? But whether you’re an ace student or you’re praying that the local junior college will look past your grade point average and concentrate on your potential, the decisions you make about your education will affect the rest of your life.
Once you arrive there will be even more decisions to make: What will you major in? Whom will you be friends with? Whom will you date? It’s a huge change, and it can be a little overwhelming. But Elsa and her Stanford classmates have come up with several great ideas for establishing a great after-high-school life that will work whether you’re headed for the Ivy League or Hometown U. Here are some of their stories:
Dustin Matsumori, a Stanford freshman from Murray, Utah, faced a dilemma similar to Elsa’s. He knew he was going to go to college, but where? And why? So Dustin started doing what any good student would do—his homework. He considered cost, class sizes, majors offered, and the student population at each school on his list.
“I came to visit Stanford with my parents and was really impressed with the beautiful campus and the great weather,” says Dustin. “Then the tour guide started giving us the stats about Supreme Court justices and Nobel laureates and other impressive people who have graduated from Stanford.”
Dustin was excited by the prospect of being able to go to a school that had such an awesome reputation. But he wasn’t ready to sign on the dotted line just yet. Something was still missing.
“When I was getting information about Stanford, I found out that the Latter-day Saint Student Association [LDSSA] hosted a seminar each Friday at lunchtime. When I walked into that room with the other LDS students, I felt right at home. It was then that I knew I could go away from home and have wonderful educational experiences and still strengthen my testimony.”
Andy Walburger is a returned missionary who plays on the Stanford water polo team. Being able to play for the team was a big factor in his decision to go to Stanford, but it wasn’t the only one.
“I love the LDS community here at Stanford,” he says. “I think relationships are a very important part of a college education. In fact, a big part of what you learn at college happens outside the classroom, so you want to make sure that it will be a good atmosphere. Having LDS friends here has made all the difference for me. After all, staying at home by yourself every Friday night isn’t a lot of fun.”
Holly Goodliffe, a freshman from Salt Lake City, says that although she was thrilled to be at college, there was some uncertainty as she faced her first days in a world where her parents weren’t nearby.
“I think that being away from home for the first time has really helped me appreciate the gospel more than ever before,” says Holly. “I feel like I have a solid foundation. Also, I know I can rely on my other LDS friends. We sort of look out for each other. If someone’s not at church, we let them know we missed them.”
Mark Madsen led the Stanford basketball team to the NCAA Final Four last year. He is a tenacious and aggressive player, and it would be easy to assume that basketball is the only thing that matters to such an impressive athlete. But Mark, who served a mission in Spain, says that it’s church, not sports, that gives him the anchor he needs in his life.
“Going to church at the student ward is a huge relief for me, especially after a road trip with the team,” says Mark. “After a few days in a strange city playing against tough guys, it’s nice to come and sing the opening hymn and be with my ward family. I love Sundays.”
Even though LDSSA is just one of several religious, academic, and professional groups on campus, the LDS students say they think it is one of Stanford’s most noticed groups. Their numbers may be small—less than 100 of the 7,000 undergraduate students are LDS—but their impact is felt in almost every dorm, classroom, and organization. These guys are involved with a capital “I.”
In addition to the athletic pursuits of Mark and Andy and their LDS teammates, there are LDS athletes in gymnastics, synchronized swimming, and crew just to name a few. Emily Andrus, an LDS student from Salt Lake City, just finished a year in office as student body president. This year another LDS student, Maren Norton, took her place. One LDS student leads daily campus tours. Several are in musical, dance, and performing groups. And at nearly every rally, game, performance, or debate, there is a small but vocal cheering section of LDS students.
“I’m always running in several different directions at once,” says Emily. “But my LDS friends watch out for me. I’m well taken care of.”
That involvement and the support network that comes along with it make it easy for all the LDS students to let their gospel light shine. In every group and on every team, people notice that the Mormon kids seem to have their own fan club, which leads to questions about the gospel. Lisa Arrington, a recent convert to the Church, became interested in the gospel because she was friends with Mark. She wanted to know more about the friends that seemed to always surround him and why they always seemed so happy. Now Mark isn’t just her friend; he’s also her home teacher.
But it isn’t just high-profile activities that bring missionary opportunities. Dustin’s friends noticed he didn’t drink. They asked questions, and soon Dustin was sharing the Book of Mormon and For the Strength of Youth pamphlets with the guys on his floor. Holly’s roommate, a Christian, noticed that Holly read her scriptures daily just as she did. She wanted to know more about Holly’s beliefs, and now they occasionally study the Bible together.
Meghann Evershed, a sophomore, jogs a few times a week with her friend Matt Blythe. While they jog, they often talk about the gospel.
“I really enjoy discussing religion with Meghann because she’s very clear,” says Matt. “She seems to have all the answers. It’s cool to understand her beliefs.”
Four years seems like a long time, but time flies when you’re having fun, and these students are definitely doing that. It’s the kind of fun that comes from working hard, playing hard, and loving and living the gospel. It’s the kind of fun that anyone, no matter where they go to school, can have if they want to.
So maybe you didn’t get a perfect score on the SAT, and the thought of college algebra makes you break out into a cold sweat. Just remember that whether you’re trying to decide between several schools or just hoping that one will take pity and let you in, every problem has a solution. Especially when you have the gospel to guide you and good LDS friends to help you find your way.
It’s a simple concept—one that will make you look very smart no matter where you go to school.
Here are some things that make the Stanford LDSSA great. Keep them in mind when you’re choosing a college—your bishop can tell you if there’s an institute program at the school you choose. Or if you choose a school without an LDSSA, maybe you could team up with other LDS students or young adults in the area and help implement some of the following ideas when you arrive:
All incoming freshmen receive a welcome letter and a packet of information about where the student ward meets, where institute classes are held, and how to get involved.
Stanford students stay connected via e-mail. If there’s an activity or an event, it’s easy to let everyone know.
Helping the community is a great way to build friendships. Stanford students have developed a tutoring program that allows them to help struggling elementary, junior high, and high school students succeed.
Stanford students use the buddy system. Each incoming freshman is assigned a “big brother” or “big sister,” an upperclassman who can show them the ropes.
Institute classes not only provide a spiritual dimension to education; it’s also a great break from other studies and a good way to see friends. Stanford students make every effort to schedule their other classes so they can attend.

Elder F. Enzio Busche of the Quorum of the Seventy learned about peace when he was a boy. He says, “During World War II in my home country of Germany, I lived with my mother and four sisters far away from home in southern Germany in two very small, humble rooms. We had fled from our home because of the many air attacks that had destroyed our city and threatened our lives. My father was separated from us because he had been drafted into the army. I was too young to understand the dramatic events happening around me during that terrible war.
“Lying in bed one night in the room I shared with two of my sisters, I remember an intense feeling of loneliness. … I was awake until early in the morning, and I was so overcome with despair that I began to cry. I wept and wept.
“Suddenly something changed. A comforting power enveloped me, and a small voice said to my soul, ‘You are My child. Have trust in Me.’
“Immediately joy and happiness filled my heart. All my fear, loneliness, and despair were changed into feelings of warmth and comfort. That night I learned for the first time that there is some unseen but loving Person who is concerned about me.” (Blazer A manual, page 126; Friend, October 1980, page 6.)
Elder Busche experienced the peace that comes from the Lord.

We are fortunate in our family to have a special member who has touched everyone’s heart. My grandfather is blind, but his handicap has made him all the more special to me.
My grandpa, Maurice Beckstead, began to go blind in 1967. My brother Shane was the last grandchild my grandfather was able to see. Grandfather now has three more grandchildren and one great-grandson. When we told him he was now a great-grandfather, his comment was, “I know, I’ve always been great!”
When he started losing his sight, it was hard for him to adjust. He had worked hard his entire life. He enjoyed working and was proud and independent. It was a difficult step in his life for him to accept the fact that he would have to take an early retirement because of his eyesight.
After Grandpa retired, he continued to work hard on his yard and garden, something in which he and my grandmother took great pride. Even with his failing eyesight, he would walk quite a distance every week to turn the irrigation water down to his property in order to water his garden, pasture, and lawns. One summer night his turn came at midnight, and it was a dark and frightening time in his life. After he had taken his water turn and was attempting to return home, he became lost in a cornfield adjoining the right-of-way to the canal. He lost his sense of direction and panicked. He was lost for over an hour, with my grandmother and the neighbors searching, thinking he might possibly have drowned in the canal. They had decided to call the police, but at that moment, a neighbor found him crawling along the side of the road quite a distance from his home. After that incident, his neighbors insisted that they turn the water on for him. He also started to use his cane, a need that was difficult for him to accept.
Grandpa has a terrific memory. He can remember birth dates and special events in great detail. He is also the family taste tester. He likes to sample special dishes and desserts we make for family dinners. And when Grandpa says it’s good, we consider it high praise. For his birthday, Father’s Day, or Christmas, it is difficult to buy him a gift because he can’t enjoy many things, so we usually give him chocolates or candy. When he receives these gifts, he hides them from everyone else so that when he and Grandma are alone, they can enjoy them. And boy, does he enjoy them!
He knows his yard and house by heart. If anyone moves anything of his, such as his shoes, hat, or cane, it makes it nearly impossible for him to help himself and he must ask for help. He always has a horse or cow that he feeds at a specific time twice a day. He usually cares for my uncle’s colt. He knows exactly how much grain, water, and hay to give it. He is always proud of his accomplishments, and whenever someone comes around, he takes pride in showing them how well the animal looks. Because he can’t see a clock, all of his children bought one that chimes on the half hour and the hour. He listens carefully for the chimes.
Grandpa loves to have the grandchildren perform. It doesn’t matter if it’s in marching, singing, dancing, reciting the alphabet, or just talking to him. He will sit and listen to the comments of other people around him, and when someone comes to see him he will say, “You should have seen my granddaughter the other night. She looked great. She was the cutest thing you’d ever want to see.”
My grandfather has taught me a lot through his example. I hope I can learn to be like him with his great sense of humor, his determination, and his love.

During my mission, I got to see so many people change for the better because of the gospel. And it filled my heart with joy every day. But every time my companion and I taught families, I was reminded of my own family, especially my mother, who was not a member of the Church. Every preparation day, I tried to encourage her through my emails to meet with the missionaries. I prayed that Heavenly Father would prepare her heart to receive the gospel.
I was still on my mission when the inspired change occurred regarding missionaries’ communication with their families.1 When I first heard the news, the Spirit let me know that this was an opportunity to invite my mother to learn more about the gospel. I felt a lot of joy about that change and that feeling. During the week, I asked the Lord to help me know what He would have me share with her.
When preparation day arrived and I saw my mother through my computer screen, I had a strong impression that we should say a prayer. I expressed that feeling to her, and she agreed. During the video call, I explained to her the main message I was trying to share as a missionary: that the gospel of Jesus Christ had been restored. I testified with all my heart that I knew it was true. I also invited her to pray and ask God about these things to know for herself. We finished our conversation with a prayer that she offered. We both felt the Spirit so strong that it pierced our hearts. After the call, I sent a referral to the missionaries in her area.
I waited anxiously for the next week to hear from her again. Just as we had done the first time, we started our video chat with a prayer, and then I listened to the Spirit to know what to share with her. We did this for weeks. Eventually, to my surprise, she started to meet with the missionaries. And I noticed a new glow in her eyes.
When I returned home, I went with my mother to her lessons with the missionaries. In one of those lessons, she, with a smile on her face, expressed her desire to make covenants with the Lord. I was shocked to hear how she had received the answer that the gospel was true! Again, the Spirit filled the room and testified to our hearts that we were witnessing truth.
And so, just a few weeks after returning home, I witnessed one of the greatest miracles of my mission: my mother entered the waters of baptism and made a covenant with Heavenly Father.
Tears ran down my face when I saw her go down into the water. When I hugged her afterward, we were both feeling a lot of emotions, but mostly we felt God’s love for us. She looked me in the eyes and said, “I felt like God hugged me and welcomed me. I know that He was waiting for me.”
As I heard my mother’s words, my testimony was further strengthened, and I knew then with all my heart that Heavenly Father hears our prayers and can help us share the fruit of the tree with others—especially our own family.

A few years ago a girl I knew well submitted a story in the Mayhew Contest. Like many of the other stories submitted that year, hers featured raw “realism”—sex, violence, etc. I was puzzled because I was this girl’s campus bishop, and I had heard her several times in sacrament meetings bear testimony of the gospel and otherwise express her feelings. She seemed an unusually spiritual, refined, sensitive girl, and I could not understand why she would write such a story. So I called her to my office.
“Why did you write this story?” I asked. “Is this the real you coming out, the inner self that just had to be expressed?”
“Oh, no!” she answered. “I’m not at all like that, Bishop.”
“Then why did you write that way?”
“Because I thought I had to write that way to be published,” she said.
Right then I determined to do something so that students might know that they don’t have to write “that way” to be published. And this essay is one of my efforts. Young writers, and old ones too, should have freedom to write any way they want, for an artist must be true to himself—no matter what the truth. But writers who want to resist the popular fashions of our times and write in harmony with convictions and ideals that may be out of fashion also need reassurance that this is their privilege and that there may be an audience larger than they realize who will rejoice in their affirmation, integrity, and courage.

When I was in my teenage years, we thought that my older brother wouldn’t get to serve a mission because the ward was allowed to send only one young man at a time on a mission. Everybody else had to be available for the military draft. But our bishop and stake president found out that they could send one more. So, they talked to my brother about it, and he came home and told my parents.

My father was a wonderful man, but he was not active in the Church. His response was negative—but for an unusual reason. He wasn’t critical of the Church or even of a mission, but my brother was preparing for medical school. My father said, “You’ve prepared yourself to go to medical school. You’ve taken the classes. You can do more good if you go to medical school than you can if you go on a mission.”

That evening, this faithful, wonderful brother of mine sat with me, and the two of us talked. We concluded that there were really three questions that would determine his response to our father. The first one was, “Was Jesus Christ the Savior of the world?” The second one was, “Is the Book of Mormon the word of God?” And the third one was, “Was Joseph Smith a prophet?” I realized that the answers to those three questions would affect almost every decision I would make for the rest of my life.

I had always loved the Savior and I had read the Book of Mormon, but realizing how significant those answers were, I prayed that night and received through the Holy Ghost a profound favorable answer to those questions. Jesus Christ is the Savior, the Book of Mormon is the word of God, and Joseph Smith was a prophet. I testify that these things are true.

“She’s so mean!”
Emily crossed her arms and turned away from the family computer.
“Who’s so mean?” Mom asked, walking over.
“Kayla. She wrote me a really mean email. I never want to talk to her again.”
Kayla and Emily had been friends since second grade. They always used to sit together at lunch and play together after school. But this year things were different. Kayla said mean things about people a lot. It made Emily feel uncomfortable. She was still nice to Kayla, but they didn’t hang out much anymore.
“What did she say in the email?” Mom asked.
“It’s still on the screen. You can read it,” Emily said, slouching in her seat.
Mom looked at the screen. “You’re right. That isn’t very nice. I’m sorry she wrote those things to you.”
“Why would Kayla say that? I’m always nice to her.”
“Sometimes when people are upset they don’t say things in a nice way,” Mom said.
Emily sat up. “Well, I’m going to tell her how I feel!” She moved her chair back toward the computer and began typing furiously.
A few minutes later Emily said, “There, I’m done.” She hovered the mouse over the send button on the screen.
“Maybe you should wait a few minutes before you send it,” Mom said. “You can come back when you’ve cooled down a bit.”
Emily took a deep breath and reread the email. Then she leaned back in her chair and sighed.
“OK.” She got up from the computer desk and went to the living room, where her brother and sister were playing a game. They invited her to play, but Emily didn’t feel like it. She just sat on the couch and watched. Emily couldn’t stop thinking about what Kayla wrote and what she had typed to send back.
Emily saw the picture on the wall of Jesus. People were mean to Jesus a lot, but He was never mean back. He showed patience and love to everyone. As she thought about Jesus, Emily felt calm. She knew what to do.
Emily walked back to the computer and sat down. She deleted what she had written and started over. This time she typed a short, kind reply. It told how she felt, but it wasn’t mean.
Emily called Mom back to the computer. “How’s this?” she asked, pointing to the screen.
Mom read the words and smiled. “How do you feel about it?”
Emily clicked the send button. “I feel better now,” she said. “The first email I wrote wasn’t very nice. I’m glad I didn’t send it.”
“I’m glad too,” Mom said. “Do you know why you feel better?”
“Because I followed Jesus,” Emily answered. “I think the Holy Ghost is telling me I replied in the right way!”

Anja Pedersen, 16, lives in another Arctic city, Finnsness. On Sundays, she and her father, the only active members in town, drive two hours each way to Narvik, the nearest branch.
“I have a brother who says he could write five pages of things he thinks are wrong with the Church,” she says. “And I have a sister who thinks my father has brainwashed me. My mother and my other two brothers just don’t care. But I met a friend a year ago who asked me about the gospel. I had to read and study and I found things that I needed. My testimony grew stronger and stronger.”
Since then, she’s shared seven copies of the Book of Mormon with friends and given two copies to local libraries. She also wrote a seven-page report about the Doctrine and Covenants, which she read to her school religion class, and saved up enough money to take a trip to the temple that left her feeling “all warm inside.”

“You’re it!” Mandy said. She tagged her little brother and then swam away. Mandy’s family was staying in a motel until they could move to their new home. It was fun eating ravioli warmed up in the microwave for lunch. And they got to swim in the motel pool almost every day!
But there was one not-so-good part about the motel. The motel manager’s office was right under their room, and the manager thought Mandy and her brothers and sisters were too loud. “How can I rent rooms when it sounds like a herd of elephants are over my head?” he asked Dad.
After lunch Mandy’s little brother Aaron jumped off the bed and hit the floor with a thump. Mandy winced and looked up at Mom.
“No jumping. Tiptoe, please,” Mom said.
But it was too late. The phone rang.
“Uh oh,” thought Mandy.
Mom picked up the phone. Mandy could hear her apologizing to the manager.
Mom’s shoulders sagged as she hung up the phone. “Edward and Mandy,” she said, “I need to put Aaron and Emily down for a nap. Will you please take Kristine and Daniel for a walk?”
As they started across the motel parking lot, Mandy spotted something small and brown on the ground.
It was a wallet. And it had money in it!
“Look, Edward!” she said, holding the wallet up high.
“We need to take this to the manager’s office right away,” said Edward.
Mandy felt her stomach clench. Why did they have to take it right now? Couldn’t Mom or Dad return it later?
But Mandy knew the right thing to do.
The children opened the office door and timidly stepped inside. The manager frowned. “Um, we found this wallet in the parking lot,” Mandy said. Her hand shook as she set the wallet on the counter.
A man who was standing at the counter looked over. “That’s mine,” he said. He quickly looked through the wallet. “And everything’s here. Thank you, kids!”
Mandy looked up at the manager. His frown was gone, and his eyes were twinkling.
After they left the office, Daniel asked, “Was that wallet magic?”
“Why do you think it’s magic?” asked Edward.
“Because it made the grumpy man happy!”
Edward shook his head. “The wallet wasn’t magic,” he said. “He was happy because we did the right thing.”
Mandy had a special feeling inside. She never knew choosing the right could make people so happy.
A few days later, Mandy and Dad went to pay the week’s bill. The manager smiled at Mandy. He had only called once since they found the wallet, and just to thank them for being honest. Mandy felt like she’d made a new friend.
“Choosing the right really is magical,” Mandy thought. She waved goodbye, and the manager waved back. “And he really isn’t so grumpy after all.”

President Smith then married Jessie Evans, former contralto and soloist with the Salt Lake Tabernacle Choir, on April 12, 1938. A born entertainer with a vivacious and cheerful nature, she was at the president’s side for thirty-three years, buoying him up and caring for him with a love and devotion that was truly beautiful. She lived to see him become president of the Church and traveled extensively with him on his many Church assignments, sharing not only his rigorous schedule but also the loving reception of the Saints of many lands. When she succumbed to a heart ailment on August 3, 1971, millions shared President Smith’s loneliness and sorrow. On seeing the compassion and concern extended to him at this time by President Harold B. Lee, President Smith assured his counselor that the Lord would give him strength to continue in his duties. “I’ve been through this before, you know,” he said.

My decision stunned my family. My older brother declared that if I went on a mission, I should not plan on having anything to do with my family in the future.
But as Nephi promised, the Lord prepared a way for me to do what He asked (see 1 Ne. 3:7). I left for the Taiwan Taichung Mission in May 1996. Right before I left, my brother held me in his arms and tearfully told me that he opposed my going because he hated to lose me. Throughout my mission, my family gave me their full support.
Serving a mission changed my life. I came to understand more clearly my relationship with Heavenly Father. My testimony grew, and the significance of the work, of bringing souls to Jesus Christ, became eternally impressed on my mind and heart.
What is most dear to me now that I have completed my mission is the promise I made to God that I would endure to the end. I remember my mission president’s words as a group of us were soon to be released. He said he wanted us to stay worthy so we could all be together again in heaven someday. I have thought of this challenge often, especially during times of trial.
My heart is filled with gratitude. I am grateful that God has protected me and provided me with learning experiences. Many of these experiences were surprising and unexpected, but they all have stretched me into becoming more like the servant of the Lord I so much want to be.

Jenny rested her head against the school bus window. This was the first time she had ridden the bus to school, and she felt strange—sort of lonely, despite the greetings by the other children.
When the bus stopped at the corner of Cedar and Oak, she noticed an old man with white hair standing by the curb. He looked at the bus and waited. Just as the bus began to move again, he quickly raised his arm and gave a friendly wave.
“He waved to us,” Jenny blurted out to Billy who had sat down next to her. “Why did he do that?”
“I don’t know. He just does. He’s just some old man.”
One morning before Halloween, Jenny said, “Look, Billy. There’s a cardboard pumpkin on the old man’s door.” When the old man waved, Jenny smiled and waved back. She felt good inside.
By late November, the days grew colder. One morning, as a bitter chill frosted up the windows, Jenny said, “I wonder if the old man will be there today?” She crooked her neck to look up ahead. She saw him tacking up a colorful turkey decoration. “Hurray!” she exclaimed.
In the days that followed, Jenny didn’t wonder anymore if the old man would be there. She knew that he would be. It was as simple as that.
Time drew near for school to let out for the December holidays. Every morning Jenny anxiously glanced at the old man’s door. On a cold and dismal morning just before school let out, Jenny spotted a snowman decoration on the old man’s door. In spite of the cold, she felt sunshine inside when the old man smiled and waved.
A light snow was falling when school started again in January. Bundled up snugly, Jenny bounded up the steps of the bus. It sputtered and shuddered as it neared Cedar and Oak. When everyone began to cheer and shout, Jenny knew that the old man was there.
And then one morning, as a February drizzle fell in a gray and dreary mist, Jenny thought, Valentine Day is almost here. I wonder what the old man will put on his door. Her eyes searched for him. He wasn’t at the curb, or on the sidewalk, or on his porch. As the bus rolled by, she pressed her hands against the window, peered at his house through the streaks of dribbling rain, and felt sad. Where’s the old man? she wondered. She turned to Billy. “Do you know his name?”
“Mr. Brown. He’ll probably be back tomorrow.”
But the next morning he wasn’t there, either. Nor the next morning. Nor the next.
Finally Jenny said, “We have to call and find out where he is.”
Billy rolled his eyes. “There are hundreds of Browns.”
“But we know his address—717 Cedar.”
At lunchtime Jenny and Billy found a telephone book in the office. “Just look at the Browns one at a time,” Jenny said. “Not the name, just the address.”
“OK, but this could take days,” Billy moaned.
Jenny lowered her head. “Just start looking,” she said firmly.
With a steady rain beating against the windows, they read through the listings on the first page, then the next. Just as Billy licked his finger to turn the page, Jenny shouted, “Here it is—717 Cedar! Brown, Quincy. Let’s call.”
“Not me. Maybe he’s not there anymore.”
“But maybe he is.” Jenny picked up the phone and dialed the number.
After two rings, a woman’s voice said, “Hello?”
Jenny gulped. “Mrs. Brown?”
“Yes?”
“This is Jenny. A friend of Mr. Brown. Is he there?”
“A friend of his?”
“Sort of. I used to see him from the school bus every morning.”
“Oh, the school bus. He’s been worried about that.”
“Worried? That’s great! I mean, I’m glad to know he still lives on Cedar.”
“Oh, yes, but he’s been in bed with the flu. He’s over the worst of it, but until he gets his strength back, he has to stay inside. Unless the sun is out. Sunshine would do him a world of good.”
Jenny thanked Mrs. Brown and hung up. Sunshine, she thought. She raised an eyebrow and looked at Billy. “You’re thinking,” he said.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m thinking about sunshine. We have a few more days before Valentine Day. And I know just what we can do.”
When Valentine Day finally arrived, the sky was cloudy as they rode to school.
“All set?” Jenny asked.
“All set,” Billy said. “But the sun isn’t out.”
“The bus driver said it will be OK. He checked with Mrs. Brown. She’ll be there if Mr. Brown can’t be.”
As the bus rumbled along, Jenny could hardly breathe. But even though she wished as hard as she could, the sun did not come out.
“It’s not going to work,” Billy said. “Maybe we should wait.”
“We can’t,” Jenny said with a sigh. “Valentine Day is today. I guess we’ll have to give them to Mrs. Brown.”
The brakes whined as the bus slowed to a stop. When Mrs. Brown came outside, Billy and the others rifled through their backpacks and found the valentines they had made, and Jenny reached under the seat and pulled out the huge red heart trimmed in white that they had all signed. They watched silently as the bus driver collected them and gave them with a grin to Mrs. Brown. Mrs. Brown smiled at everyone on the bus, then hurried back to the house.
“We didn’t even get to see him,” Jenny mumbled.
That afternoon as the closing school bell rang, bright rays of sunshine streamed in through the classroom window. “Great!” Jenny grumped as she frowned at the clear blue sky. “Where were you this morning?”
She slumped in her seat as they rode the bus back home. Even though the sun was shining now, inside she felt as if the clouds had not gone away.
When they reached the corner of Cedar and Oak, Billy poked her with his elbow. “Look!”
Jenny turned her head and peered out the window. “Wow! There it is,” she said. “The heart we made is on Mr. Brown’s door.” She bounced up and down and clapped her hands. “And look at that.”
A roar went up, and everyone clambered for the windows on that side of the bus. Valentines filled Mr. Brown’s yard. Red hearts on long skinny sticks poked up all over the place. As they got closer, Jenny squinted her eyes. “They’re ours,” she squealed. “The ones we made for him.”
“Look over there, Jenny,” Billy said, as another cheer came from the bus.
There, standing in the sunshine and waving from the curb, was the old man at Cedar and Oak. Jenny beamed as she waved back.
“Well,” Billy said, “the old man is back, and things are just the way they were.”
Jenny’s eyes sparkled. She felt warm and snug inside. “No,” she said with a smile. “Mr. Brown is back, and things will never be the same old way again.”

On August 15, 2007, Peru suffered a massive earthquake that all but destroyed the coastal cities of Pisco and Chincha. Like many other Church leaders and members, Wenceslao Conde, the president of the Balconcito Branch of the Church in Chincha, immediately set about helping others whose homes were damaged.
Four days after the earthquake, Elder Marcus B. Nash of the Seventy was in Chincha helping to coordinate the Church’s relief efforts there and met President Conde. As they talked about the destruction that had occurred and what was being done to help the victims, President Conde’s wife, Pamela, approached carrying one of her small children. Elder Nash asked Sister Conde how her children were. With a smile, she replied that through the goodness of God they were all safe and well. He asked about the Condes’ home.
“It’s gone,” she said simply.
“What about your belongings?” he inquired.
“Everything was buried in the rubble of our home,” Sister Conde replied.
“And yet,” Elder Nash noted, “you are smiling as we talk.”
“Yes,” she said, “I have prayed and I am at peace. We have all we need. We have each other, we have our children, we are sealed in the temple, we have this marvelous Church, and we have the Lord. We can build again with the Lord’s help.”

Reader B: Her name was Betty June. Just under six feet, she must have been the tallest, toughest girl in the high school sophomore class. She got in fights. She wasn’t very smart.
Reader C: I know, because she was in my sophomore English class.
Reader B: She kept calling everybody else “stupid” or “creep.” Most of the kids stayed away from her.
Reader C: Including me.
Reader B: She had some friends though, because she was so tough.
Reader C: I know, because she was in my gym class right after English. I stayed away from her crowd. One day, after the first month of second semester, we had a big exam in English. I studied hard and when the papers were returned, I had received an A. Afterwards, in the girls’ locker room getting ready for gym class, I was so excited about my success that I started telling my locker mates about the A I got.
Reader B: Suddenly a voice grumbled from behind.
Reader D: “You’re such a creep.”
Reader C: I turned to see Betty June looking down at me.
Reader D: [sullenly] “You’re always bragging, kissying up to the teacher.”
Reader B: Betty June brushed by hard and walked away.
Reader C: In gym class, we were practicing basketball. I was assigned to a team playing opposite Betty June’s team. At one point, I was guarding the basket while Betty June dribbled like a bear toward me. She knocked me to the floor as if I hadn’t been there and made her shot. But before she stalked away, she grumbled down at me.
Reader D: [sullenly] “Keep outa my way!”
Reader C: And I did keep out of her way. I disliked Betty June.
Reader B: People dislike those who intimidate and threaten them. But in church we were always learning about charity.
Reader C: And besides, my conscience bothered me. Valentine’s Day was coming up. I bought valentine cards with cute sayings for some of my friends. And I decided [pause] I’d give one to Betty June, too. At least the Lord would know I tried. The day came. I got to English class early. I thought, “What if it offends her?” Then I thought, “What’s the worst she can do to me? She can pound me into the ground, that’s what. But maybe being pounded into the ground isn’t as bad as letting myself be intimidated.”
Reader B: Finally Betty June came into the room.
Reader C: My throat felt dry. My scalp tingled as if my hair would stand on end. My hands felt ice cold and my palms sweaty, as if I would turn to rubbery water any minute. I felt scared, but I told myself that being scared is a whole lot safer if nobody knows it. I walked stiffly to Betty June’s desk and sputtered, “Here, this is for you.” Class was starting. So I quickly, and with relief, sat down. Through the corner of my eye, I saw Betty June open the envelope and look at the card. Then she placed it open at the top of her desk. After class I started out the door and into the hallway on my way to gym, when I felt a tall figure walk up beside me.
Reader D: [awkwardly] “You’re not mad at me or nothing.”
Reader C: “Uh, why should I be mad?”
Reader D: “ ’Cause I bumped you or something.”
Reader C: “No, uh, I’m not mad.”
Reader B: Scared maybe, but mad, no.
Reader C: But I didn’t say that, only thought it.
Reader D: “Did you get that assignment Miss Phelps gave us for next week?”
Reader C: “You mean writing a theme using at least ten similes? Yeah, I think I understand what she wants.”
Reader D: “Do you think maybe you wanna look at mine when I do it? I mean, I don’t know if I can do it right.”
Reader C: “Sure. I’d be happy to help. When do you want to get together?”
Reader D: “How about maybe Saturday?”
Reader C: “Saturday’s fine, in the afternoon. See, Saturday morning our church has an activity and service project. Would you like to come?”
Reader B: Not everyone responds easily. But most do when trust is placed in the Savior’s advice, “Love thy neighbor as thyself.”
Reader C: Because most of the time my neighbor is like me. It takes trust.

I was busy shopping one day some years ago when two young women asked if they could speak with me. “Certainly,” I replied.
“If you died today,” they asked, “would you go to heaven?”
They must have noticed my surprise, because they immediately opened their copies of the Bible and quoted a verse from the New Testament. “All you need to do to go to heaven,” they declared, “is to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ.”
What followed is still a painful memory. I was amazed at their doctrine, and I tried to remember what I had learned at Sunday School, seminary and college religion classes I had taken on the New Testament; but I could give only one scripture to indicate that there was more to entering the kingdom of heaven than simply a profession of faith.
The two women quickly quoted other scriptures similar to the first. I could share some of my beliefs as a Latter-day Saint, but I could not quote the principles from the scriptures. Unconvinced by my feeble arguments, they soon left me. I watched them walking hurriedly up to the next shopper.
“It is a common thing,” President Spencer W. Kimball said, “to have a few passages of scripture at our disposal, floating in our minds, as it were, and thus to have the illusion that we know a great deal about the gospel.”
Such an illusion was mine!
“Each of us,” he continued, “at some time in our lives, must discover the scriptures for ourselves—and not just discover them once, but rediscover them again and again.” (Tambuli, September, 1976.)
The experience discouraged me, and I determined to never again be unprepared. I set aside some regular study time, and began to discover the gospel again.