Gospel Story Finder

I’ll never forget one high school football game against a rival school. I played the wingback position, and my assignment was to either block the linebacker or try to get open so the quarterback could throw me the ball. The reason I remember this particular game so well is because the fellow on the other side of the line—the man I was supposed to block—was a giant.
I wasn’t exactly the tallest athlete in the world. But I think this other guy may have been. I remember looking up at him, thinking he probably weighed as much as two of me. Keep in mind, when I played we didn’t have the protective gear that players have today. My helmet was made of leather, and it didn’t have a face guard.
The more I thought about it, the more I came to a sobering realization: if I ever let him catch me, I could be cheering for my team the rest of the season from a hospital bed.
Lucky for me, I was fast. And for the better part of the first half, I managed to avoid him.
Except for one play.
Our quarterback dropped back to pass. I was open. He threw the ball, and it sailed towards me.
The only problem was that I could hear a lumbering gallop behind me. In a moment of clarity, I thought that if I caught the ball there was a distinct possibility I could be eating my meals through a tube. But the ball was heading for me, and my team was depending on me. So I reached out, and—at the last instant—I looked up.
And there he was.
I remember the ball hitting my hands. I remember struggling to hang on to it. I remember the sound of the ball falling to the turf. After that, I’m not exactly sure what happened, because the giant hit me so hard I wasn’t sure what planet I was on. One thing I did remember was a deep voice coming from behind a dark haze: “Serves you right for being on the wrong team.”
William McKinley Oswald was my high school football coach. He was a great coach and had a profound influence on my life. But I think he could have learned his method of motivating players from an army drill sergeant.
That day, during his half-time speech, Coach Oswald reminded the whole team about the pass I had dropped. Then he pointed right at me and said, “How could you do that?”
He wasn’t speaking with his inside voice.
“I want to know what made you drop that pass.”
I stammered for a moment and then finally decided to tell the truth. “I took my eye off the ball,” I said.
The coach looked at me and said, “That’s right; you took your eye off the ball. Don’t ever do that again. That kind of mistake loses ball games.”
I respected Coach Oswald, and in spite of how terrible I felt, I made up my mind to do what Coach said. I vowed to never take my eye off the ball again, even if it meant getting pounded to Mongolia by the giant on the other side of the line.
We headed back onto the field and started the second half. It was a close game, and even though my team had played well, we were behind by four points late in the fourth quarter.
The quarterback called my number on the next play. I went out again, and again I was open. The ball headed towards me. But this time, the giant was in front of me and in perfect position to intercept the pass.
He reached up, but the ball sailed through his hands. I jumped high, never taking my eye off the ball; stabbed at it; and pulled it down for the game-winning touchdown.
I don’t remember much about the celebration after, but I do remember the look on Coach Oswald’s face.
“Way to keep your eye on the ball,” he said.
I think I smiled for a week.

Accept help from others. The next important point is to be willing to ask for help from those around you. Sometimes help comes from unexpected sources. A few years ago I stood in line in Chicago waiting to put my baggage on a plane. Behind me was an older man. After a few minutes he said to me, “Where are you going?” I said that I was heading for Salt Lake City. He said, “I’m going there too. Are you a Mormon?” I responded by saying I was. He said that he had been a Latter-day Saint all his life and had prepared himself finally to go to the temple. While waiting for the plane, he opened his suitcase to show me all the missionary pictures that he had collected through the years. After some minutes, we were on our way and had a wonderful talk as we flew toward Utah. Upon arrival, we left the plane quickly. I made sure he knew where he was going and said good-bye.
Some weeks later, I received this card in the mail: "Dear Brother Christensen, I lost your address and then found it. So, I’m writing you a card. When I met you in Chicago, it was a prayer answered. I never travel anywhere. I wanted to be with someone. I have thought of you many times. I really enjoyed myself in Salt Lake City at the temple. Hope to see you someday. Thanks many times for the help you were to me." I wasn’t planning to be useful that day, but I’m grateful for this brother who sought for extra help and I was nearby to assist.

Steve Hammond, 14, of King Salmon, Alaska, is an Eagle Scout, but he didn’t have a troop to help him reach his goal. Steve was following in the footsteps of his 16-year-old brother, David. Both boys earned their Eagle badges as Lone Scouts.
Their father became a registered Scoutmaster so he could supervise their work. He wanted his sons to do their work the right way. He says, “I was probably tougher on them than another Scoutmaster would have been.”
Steve had a wonderful time earning his fishing merit badge. He hooked a 36-pound king salmon.
Steve and David made something of a competition out of earning merit badges. They received their awards together in a special court of honor. As an Eagle project, Steve and David took on the restoration of a nearby Russian Orthodox church cemetery.
Steve and David are in the King Salmon Branch, Alaska Anchorage Mission.

As a member of the Church, you can expect that the full-time or the ward or branch missionaries will ask for the opportunity to help you make a list of people with whom you could share the gospel. The missionaries may suggest you think of relatives, neighbors, and acquaintances. They may ask you to set a date by which you will try to have the person or family prepared to be taught by the missionaries. I’ve had that experience. Because we in our family accepted that invitation from the missionaries, I was blessed to perform the baptism of a widow in her 80s, taught by sister missionaries.

When I placed my hands on her head to confirm her a member of the Church, I felt impressed to say that her choice to be baptized would bless generations of her family, after and before her. Even after she passed away, I was able to be in the temple with her son as he was sealed to her.

My older brother and sister, David and Shannon, also had their challenges. When David was one year old, he was severely burned. Scars covered his hands, arms, stomach, and legs. Shannon had a walking disability and was born with a slower mental capacity that often made her act younger than she was. Almost daily children at school made fun of them.
Despite their trials, my brother and sister looked to Christ in everything they did. Both of them served honorable missions. Their humility, constant faith, and perseverance provided wonderful examples. They are everything I want to become.
In this life we may be criticized and persecuted. That’s part of why we came here—to rise above the persecution and become stronger because of it. David, Shannon, and I are better people today for having been faithful in difficult experiences. I often say that everything given to us in life can be either a blessing or a curse. The strength of one’s heart determines which it is.

Often in the temple, and as we engage in family history research, we feel promptings and have impressions from the Holy Ghost. Occasionally in the temple the veil between us and those on the other side becomes very thin. We get additional assistance in our efforts to be saviors on Mount Zion.
Several years ago in a temple in Central America, the wife of one of our now-emeritus General Authorities assisted a father, a mother, and their children in receiving eternal covenants in the sealing room, where the temple mirrors are located. As they concluded and faced those mirrors, she noticed there was a face in the mirror that was not in the room. She inquired of the mother and learned that a daughter had passed away and accordingly was not physically present. The deceased daughter was then included by proxy in the sacred ordinance. Never underestimate the assistance provided in temples from the other side of the veil.

Brother Michael Kagle took a convoy of trucks loaded with equipment from his own company to Mississippi. Many employees, who are not of our faith, volunteered to go with him every weekend to give assistance in the storm-stricken areas. Walkie-talkies were used for communication along the way. Mike’s high priests group leader, while driving along with them in his pickup truck, said he had white knuckles from driving so fast. Trying to slow the convoy down, he got on the walkie-talkie and said, “Gentlemen, do you realize we are going 80 miles per hour?” One of the truck drivers came on and said, “Well, you have to understand that’s all these big trucks will do. We can’t go any faster.” Hundreds of letters of gratitude have been received. One woman, a nurse from Mississippi, wrote: “I was speechless. Had God answered my prayers so quickly? Tears immediately began to roll down my cheeks as men in hard hats and boots, with chain saws of all shapes and sizes, appeared out of the debris. It was absolutely, unequivocally, one of the most supreme sacrifices that has ever happened to me personally.”

I consider June 2, 1940, to be a very important day in the history of my family. On this day my father was baptized into this Church.
Writing to his father, Elder Jack McDonald, one of the missionaries who baptized my father, described the day with these words:
“Last Sunday was an especially beautiful day. We missionaries went out to a secluded spot on the river’s edge, out in the country, and there Elder Jones and I [Elder McDonald] made our first baptism. Antony Aidukaitis entered into the icy waters and became a member of the Church. … Everything was perfect. The sky so blue, the countryside so still, so green, so lovely that none of us could help feeling the presence of some great influence.
“[As we walked] with our new member, he said that he just couldn’t explain how wonderful this day had been for him, how he actually felt like a new man. … That was our first baptism—no credit to me or anybody. He converted himself.”
This event changed the history of my life. I am not sure my father was able to foresee the wisdom of his act, but I love him for what he did that day. He passed away more than 30 years ago, but I will honor and bless his name forever.
I admire the courage my father had to be baptized into the Church in spite of the circumstances he faced at the time. It was not easy for him. His wife did not get baptized with him. The vices of drinking alcohol and smoking were strong temptations for him. He was poor. His mother was against his joining the Church, and she told him that if he were baptized, she would no longer consider him her son. With fewer than 300 members in Brazil, the Church did not have a single chapel there. I am truly astonished by my father’s determination and courage.
How could he make such a decision in the face of so many unfavorable circumstances? The answer is simple: it was because my father read the Book of Mormon. When he read it, he came to know of the truthfulness of the message of the Restoration. The Book of Mormon is a proof that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is true. Preach My Gospel teaches that “the Book of Mormon, combined with the Spirit, is [the] most powerful resource in conversion” ([2004], 104).

Screams of terrified Laurels echoed through the Santa Cruz Mountains. A big, black, hairy “gorilla” had just come charging out of the darkness! The surprise appearance of this unusual creature was just part of the excitement at the San Jose 14th Ward’s first annual Laurel and priest high school graduation party.
The party was planned by the first-year Laurels and priests, and the only information they gave to the “guests of honor” was that they should be at their homes in their Sunday best at 5:30 P.M. on Friday, June 16.
Chauffeurs picked up the graduates and escorted them to a mountain retreat in the heavily forested Santa Cruz Mountains. As they arrived, many wondered what they were doing at a Boy Scout camp in suits and long dresses! Their curiosity was soon satisfied, however, when they were escorted into the beautifully decorated A-frame building. Pictures of the graduates at various ages had been hung on the walls, and classical music created a pleasant atmosphere for the delicious lasagne dinner that was served.
Then came more surprises. The parents of each of the graduates had furnished stories, home movies, and slides of their children, and this provided the first portion of the evening’s entertainment. Afterwards, funny awards were presented to each of the graduates by the above-mentioned “gorilla,” Mr. Chimpchump. (Mr. Chimpchump was a great scientist, explained the emcee, but had somehow been turned into an ape.) Following this, the final event of the evening was an elegant dance.
Everyone seemed to have a great time and to feel the joy that comes from participating in good, wholesome activities. Without a question, a tradition had been starred in San Jose!

The clock was running out in my New York high school wrestling match, and the score was 13 to 2. I was behind, and even though I had tried everything, I was no match for my opponent, Elmer. Yet I thought to myself, I can’t afford to lose. Everything depends on my match. If I lose, we can’t possibly get enough points in the rest of the matches to win. And there will go our undefeated season.
This was supposed to be our high school’s 99th consecutive wrestling team match win, and the 100th team match was scheduled later that day. It took many years of undefeated seasons to have a school record like that. Reporters from local newspapers and several radio stations would be at the 100th match because we were about to make Long Island wrestling history. No one ever expected us to lose.
Unfortunately, for publicity’s sake, the coaches had decided to save all the first-string wrestlers for the upcoming 100th match and let the second string wrestle the 99th. We watched in horror as many of our teammates lost their individual matches. It became painfully obvious to all of us that everything was going to depend on my bout. To make matters worse, I was not only the last-minute substitute for our sick, 165-pound wrestler, but my opponent outweighed me by 13 pounds.
Throughout each period, I worked extremely hard to leverage speed and skill to put Elmer on his back. Instead I fought most of the time to keep my own back off the mat. I simply could not compete with Elmer’s size and strength.
In the final moments of the match, Elmer was on his knees with his chest pressed against my back. He must have figured he could contain me there while he caught his breath and ran out the clock. Meanwhile, my coach sat despairing with his head in his hands. The roar of the crowd was deafening as they cheered Elmer’s imminent win and Brentwood’s upset.
By chance, my eyes caught sight of the clock. There were only 20 seconds to go. I wondered, What do I do now?
Just then, Elmer’s head dropped to obscure my view. He was exhausted. Instantly, both of my hands grabbed Elmer’s head. I tucked it into my chest and arched my back. Over he went like a sack of potatoes. “Pin!” shouted the referee as his hand slammed the mat and the buzzer sounded. I’d pinned Elmer before his feet ever hit the mat. Victory was mine. With only seconds left, I had glued Elmer, and our high school won its 99th in a row and went on to win the 100th team match.

Keryn stuffed an extra pair of jeans into her suitcase, then squeezed it shut.
“There!” she said to herself.
She had been looking forward to the school trip for months. Her class would be at camp for two days, living like pioneers—making candles, cooking over fires, even helping to build a log cabin.
Keryn glanced around the room, trying to spot anything she had missed. Her toothbrush was packed. She had clean clothes and an extra pair of shoes—oh, she’d better grab her old sweatshirt.
As she picked up her sweatshirt off the floor, her eyes fell on her scriptures on the table by the bed, and she froze.
Each member of her family had agreed to read the Book of Mormon daily, and so far Keryn hadn’t missed a night. But how was she supposed to read it in a cabin full of girls from school? With a sigh, she unlatched her suitcase, stuffed her scriptures between T-shirts and jeans, and sat on the suitcase to close it. Maybe she could find some quiet time to go off by herself and read.
“C’mon, Keryn. Race you to the campfire!” Sarah took off, and Keryn ran to catch up.
The day had been fun and very busy. Keryn had chopped at a log to help build the cabin, dunked candlewicks into wax over and over, carved a whale out of soap, and swum in the lake.
The fun carried on through the campfire time of singing songs and listening to a storyteller. Finally, Keryn, Sarah, and two of their cabinmates marched through the darkness to the cabin arm in arm, singing loudly.
The girls flopped onto their bunk beds, told stories, and laughed about the day. Then one by one they began to get ready for bed.
Keryn brushed her teeth, then climbed onto her top bunk and listened to the others. She had decided to leave her scriptures in the suitcase, but she just didn’t feel right. Then these words came into her mind: “Read them. You know you need to read them.”
Reluctantly, Keryn climbed out of bed and pulled her scriptures out of her suitcase. Then she climbed back up and tried to open the Book of Mormon without being noticed.
No such luck. She had just found her place in Mosiah when Sarah poked her head over the edge of the bunk. “What are you reading?” she asked.
“OK,” Keryn told herself, “it’s time to be a missionary.”
“It’s a book like the Bible, and it’s called the Book of Mormon,” she said aloud.
Sarah climbed up on the bunk with her. “What’s it about?”
Carol and Tasha gathered around, too.
Keryn sat up. “Well, right now I’m in a part called Mosiah, and a prophet named Abinadi is preaching the gospel to the wicked king and his priests. He’s telling them about the Ten Commandments and all the things they should already know. But they’re doing evil things instead.” She scooted over so Tasha could climb up.
“What happens to them?” Tasha asked.
“Well, later Abinadi won’t deny God, so the king has him killed.”
“What?” exclaimed Sarah. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah, it’s really sad,” Keryn agreed. “But Alma, one of the king’s priests, really listens to Abinadi. He ends up teaching the gospel to lots of people.”
“That’s awesome,” Tasha said. “I read my Bible most days, but I didn’t bring it here.” Then she flipped onto her stomach and reached down to the bottom bunk. “Hey, Carol, did you see me jump in the lake?”
Keryn smiled as the conversation turned back to the day’s events. She was glad she hadn’t left her scriptures in her suitcase, glad her friends didn’t make fun of her, and glad she had a chance to tell them about the Book of Mormon.
She looked at Sarah, Carol, and Tasha, now talking about their craft projects, then turned back to her book and continued reading about Abinadi and King Noah.

When I started reading the Fulfilling My Duty to God booklet, I felt that many duties were waiting for me. Although I only recently decided to read, apply, and share what is written in this booklet, it has already influenced my spirituality. Using Duty to God helps me grow and become a little better. Before using this booklet, I had never taught or testified of the gospel to my family. After reading and applying what was written in the booklet, I started finding opportunities to teach and testify to my family.

During the Vietnam War, we held a series of special meetings for members of the Church called into military service. After such a meeting in Chicago, I was standing next to President Harold B. Lee when a fine young Latter-day Saint told President Lee that he was on leave to visit his home and then had orders to Vietnam. He asked President Lee to give him a blessing.

Much to my surprise, President Lee said, “Your father should give you the blessing.”

Very disappointed, the boy said, “My father wouldn’t know how to give a blessing.”

President Lee answered, “Go home, my boy, and tell your father that you are going away to war and want to receive a father’s blessing from him. If he does not know how, tell him that you will sit on a chair. He can stand behind you and put his hands on your head and say whatever comes.”

This young soldier went away sorrowing.

About two years later I met him again. I do not recall where. He reminded me of that experience and said, “I did as I was told to do. I explained to my father that I would sit on the chair and that he should put his hands on my head. The power of the priesthood filled both of us. That was a strength and protection in those perilous months of battle.”

I was asked to conduct the hymns in sacrament meeting, and I was very anxious. I had never conducted hymns before. I practiced a lot during the week.
I talked to my father about my worries. He asked me if I knew the purpose of conducting. I said that it’s to set the time and rhythm. Conducting is like following the leader.
After this conversation, I thought about how being a conductor is like the example of Jesus Christ. He is our leader and guides us in the right way and at the right time. He guides us in the darkness and is our Shepherd.
I said a prayer and felt that a conductor really is an example of Jesus Christ. Now I am more excited to conduct because I will represent Christ.

“When I was younger, I was struggling with letting go of an issue with one of my siblings, which could have ruined our family unity for years, but my dear mother lovingly and swiftly corrected me and asked me to do what the Lord had counselled the Nephites to do when He appeared to them in the Americas.
“In 3rd Nephi it says (and she made me read this even when I was angry):
“But behold I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them who despitefully use you and persecute you (3 Nephi 12:44).
“It was hard for me to do, at first . . . Who knew that kind of grudge can affect you, not just spiritually, but also physically and mentally? Yet, as Mum shared, the other person with whom I held a grudge against, is living their best life, unaware of my personal turmoil because life progresses for those who learn to let it go quickly.
“She said, ‘Don’t you let Satan win!’
“I am grateful for the Atonement of my Saviour Jesus Christ that allows me, an imperfect daughter of God, a striving covenant-keeper and disciple of Christ to repent daily as I practice being meek. The power of His Atonement strengthens me to keep trying and I know He will be there for all of us in our daily efforts to be meek and lowly in heart.”

April was here at last. The all-night study sessions and final exams were over and most of our belongings packed into a closet in the old house we had lived in for the past year. Tearful see-you-in-Septembers echoed through the empty rooms as we locked the front door. My roommate, Lanell, and I lugged our bursting suitcases through the slushy snow and into the yellow Renault.
“What a dumb time for a snowstorm,” Lanell grumbled, slamming the car door shut.
“Oh well, we’ll soon be winging our way to Europe,” I consoled, reminding her of our exciting summer plans. We had schemed all year for this two-month vacation, and because we were trying to save money by driving to Chicago and flying from there, it looked as though this sudden spring snowstorm might threaten our plans.
I switched on the radio. Another weather bulletin, this time with bad news. “All interstates in Utah are closed,” the deejay stated blandly. “Students are advised to remain in Provo until further notice.”
“No way,” I declared. “A little snow won’t stop this Canadian!”
I pulled out the road map, and Lanell and I discussed all the alternative routes. We finally chose one that went south of Provo and then east into Colorado. Since it wasn’t an interstate and didn’t seem to be too mountainous, we reasoned that it would be open and fairly safe.
We headed out as the last rays of sunlight filtered through the gray storm clouds and disappeared over the top of the western range of mountains. It was a bad time to leave, I knew, but we were anxious to be on our way.
I drove cautiously on the snow-packed highway and wasn’t too alarmed when snow began falling. We soon noticed, however, that the highway was ascending into the mountains. Lanell checked the map and to our dismay found, in tiny print, the mountain pass we thought we wouldn’t have to cross. To make matters worse, the storm had increased in fury, the snowflakes splattering so thickly on the windshield that the wipers could barely keep up. As the wind howled through the canyon, I realized that conditions were perfect for a blizzard. We considered returning to Provo for the night but were encouraged by the steady stream of cars creeping toward us on the highway.
“They made it over the pass so we will too,” we told each other.
“And the other side probably won’t be so icy,” I said, trying to sound confident. Inside, I was beginning to wonder what we’d gotten ourselves into.
The road was now glare ice and we were steadily climbing. I grasped the wheel lightly as I’d learned to do on icy roads, but as the minutes passed, I felt a knot growing in my stomach and perspiration dampened my ski jacket. I wanted to turn back now but could find nowhere to do so safely. And what would Lanell think if “this Canadian” turned back? On the other hand, what would the downhill side be like, and would I have the nerve to drive it? I mentally tightened my grip on the wheel, silently begging the Lord to help us. If ever I needed a guardian angel, it was now.
Somehow, we reached the summit and I nearly shouted for joy at what I saw in the bright yellow beam of the headlights. Parked across the road, blocking the traffic, was a pickup truck, and standing beside it, a stocky man in a cowboy hat, coveralls, and a heavy parka. He was waving a flashlight, signaling for the cars to turn around and go back.
“The road’s closed. You kids would never make it down the other side,” he said, prying my hands off the steering wheel and kindly suggesting that he turn the car around for me.
As we headed back in the direction we had come, we alternately laughed and cried and prayed. We now knew the truth about all the cars that supposedly had made it over the mountain. All those cars had simply turned around and were coming back as we were now doing. How foolish we had been to ignore the weather warnings and how foolish were those in the approaching cars. Now that the storm had abated somewhat, we could see the ribbon of their lights for miles as we drove carefully down the mountain.
“Bet they’re thinking the same thing we did,” Lanell said with a grin. I grinned back, but silently I wondered, How many times do we make decisions without knowing the whole picture? How many times do we ignore the warnings? And how many times do we continue to tread dangerous paths just because it appears as if everyone is doing it?
We reached Provo late that night, and though I was shaken by the experience, I was grateful for the many insights it had given me. That Utah mountain pass and the angel in the cowboy hat who said it’s never too late to turn around, and who offered to help, will remain forever in my memory.

Jovencio Ilagan smiles as he tells that he had intended to just play along with the missionaries who knocked on his door. “I wasn’t a very religious person,” he says. But then he began to read the Book of Mormon. As he was reading in Alma, he says, “I felt the warm feeling that comes when the Holy Ghost is there bearing testimony.” Jovencio, Zenaida, and their six children who were old enough set a baptismal date.

But three days before the baptism, “I had a business appointment with some of my old drinking buddies,” he says. “They persuaded me to drink beer with them.”

Jovencio admitted to the sister missionaries what he had done. “I’m sure they were devastated. I told them to go ahead and have my wife and children baptized, and I would follow later. But the very wise district leader said no. That was a tremendous pressure, you know! Here’s my family—they couldn’t be baptized! Oh, I struggled!” A week later, they were all baptized.

Soon Jovencio became Young Men president and Zenaida became Relief Society president. They’ve since had many callings, including his as regional representative and mission president.

The Ilagans saw their lives change in many ways. “We have a data entry service bureau,” he says, “and many times we had to work on Sundays to meet our deadlines. But after we joined the Church, we decided we wouldn’t work on Sundays. So we lost some clients. But the income we earned during the six days in the week was far more than what we used to make working overtime seven days a week.”

Then they had an opportunity to open a restaurant while still operating their service bureau. “But we never opened on Sundays. We never served any beer or coffee. We never sold any cigarettes—or anything that we felt was against the Word of Wisdom. Some customers would say, ‘What kind of restaurant is this?’ and walk off! But we had a good family atmosphere and reached a different market.”

A few years later, they sold the restaurant for a profit. Jovencio was hired as manager of the Church’s distribution center in Manila. He later worked with membership and statistical records and in data processing. Now he is area manager of materials management.

“The gospel brought a complete turnaround in my husband,” says Sister Ilagan. “It brought a peace I had never known before. And it came into our lives just in time for our children.” Several of them have served missions and have been married in the temple.

Some years ago an interesting account appeared in a New Zealand newspaper about a family—a man, woman, and their two young children—and their ocean voyage.
In a well-stocked 35-foot sloop they departed on an extended trip. After a few days out, their boat struck a reef off New Caledonia. The four occupants managed to get into a life raft with some water, food, and a radio before the yacht was lost. After some anxious hours, their radio distress signal was picked up in New Caledonia, and before long, they were reached by an air/sea rescue helicopter.
When the four family members were safely ashore and being interviewed by reporters, the woman kept repeating, “We’ve lost everything! We’ve lost everything! Everything we had was in that sailboat. All of our money, our clothes, and our possessions are gone. And the yacht was not insured. We’ve lost everything!”
As Earl Nightingale, a well-known philosopher, reported this story, he went on to comment on the lack of proper preparation of which this family was guilty. Reefs in the South Pacific are well charted. Insurance is always available and learning skills of sailing should be part of training processes before venturing out into open seas.

Bryon Sorenson, now serving in the Oregon Mission, draws on his Playmill experience by asking people if he can come in and play their piano. Once inside, he plays LDS hymns and introduces the Church. Bryon baptized a talented young man named Randy Davenport who acted at the Playmill last summer. “I decided,” Randy says, “that if the Playmill could do for me what it did for Bryon, I wanted some of it.”

Hooray! Your brother is turning (number) next week! And, being the kind sibling you are, you’ve decided to make him an extra (adjective) birthday present. First, grab some (plural noun) and maybe a few (plural noun) as well. It’s true that (adjective ) (plural noun) are also his favorite, but your sister is giving him those already. Next, (verb) over to your favorite (noun) store to buy (plural noun). You’ll need some (plural noun) to make everything stick together, of course, so be sure to find at least (number). It’s building time! Grab a (noun), gather your supplies, then head to (location) and (verb) for (length of time) to finish the craft. Wrap your brother’s present with a (color) (noun), top it with a bow, and give it to him. He’ll be sure to say (silly phrase) over and over again!