Gospel Story Finder

I went to FSY with the intention of trying to strengthen my testimony. I wanted to gain a strong testimony of the Church and the gospel. I have been going to this church for a very long time with my family, ever since I was a little kid, and there have definitely been times where I did question if this was truly the right church. Was is just like every other church or was it different?
Attending FSY was one of the best decisions I had ever made. It felt amazing to be surrounded with people who have the same standards and goals as me. I felt the Spirit so strong during every single one of the Natarajans’ workshops. I had the greatest feeling of comfort and peace every second I was there.
During Elder Bednar’s visit, in the middle of the Q&A session, a strong feeling came over me and I heard a voice say, “This is the true Church” over and over again. My eyes were filled with tears and I had never felt so strong about the gospel before. I was filled with assurance and comfort that this is the true Church.
I did get what I was looking for at FSY. I got my answer about the Church and I really do know that this is the true Church and that the Book of Mormon is the true word of God. I can feel it each time I read the Book of Mormon. I love this gospel and I am truly blessed to have it in my life.

I share another example of the value of learning the Articles of Faith. Forty-five years ago I worked with a man named Sharman Hummel in the printing business in Salt Lake City. I once gave him a ride home from work and asked him how he came to receive his testimony of the gospel.

He responded, “It’s interesting, Tom, that you asked me that question, for this very week my wife, my children, and I are going to the Manti Temple, there to be sealed for all eternity.”

He continued his account: “We lived in the East. I was journeying by bus to San Francisco to establish myself in a new printing company, and then I was going to send for my wife and children. All the way from New York City to Salt Lake City the bus trip was uneventful. But in Salt Lake City a young girl entered the bus—a Primary girl—who sat next to me. She was going to Reno, Nevada, there to have a visit with her aunt. As we journeyed westward, I noticed a billboard: ‘Visit the Mormon Sunday School this week.’

“I said to the little girl, ‘I guess there are a lot of Mormons in Utah, aren’t there?’

“She replied, ‘Yes, sir.’

“Then I said to her, ‘Are you a Mormon?’

“Again her reply: ‘Yes, sir.’”

Sharman Hummell then asked, “What do Mormons believe?” And that little girl recited the first article of faith; then she talked about it. Continuing, she gave him the second article of faith and talked about it. Then she gave him the third and the fourth and the fifth and the sixth and all of the Articles of Faith and talked about all of them. She knew them consecutively.

Sharman Hummel said, “When we got to Reno, and we let that little girl off into the arms of her aunt, I was profoundly impressed.”

He said, “All the way to San Francisco I thought, ‘What is it that prompts that little girl to know her doctrine so well?’ When I arrived in San Francisco, the very first thing I did,” said Sharman, “was to look through the yellow pages for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I called the mission president, and he sent two missionaries to where I was staying. I became a member of the Church, my wife became a member, all of our children became members, in part because a Primary girl knew her Articles of Faith.”

Just three months ago, the Hummel family came to Salt Lake City for the wedding of their daughter Marianne. They stopped by the office; we had a wonderful visit. All 6 daughters came, along with 4 sons-in-law and 12 grandchildren. The entire family had remained active in the Church. Each of the daughters has been to the temple. Countless are those who have been brought to a knowledge of the gospel by the members of this family—all because a young child had been taught the Articles of Faith and had the ability and the courage to proclaim the truth to one who was seeking the light of the gospel.

Illustration by Brooke Smart
Forty-five minutes after boarding the plane that would take me to Dallas, where I would meet with other missionaries en route to the Brazil MTC, we had yet to leave the gate. Finally the pilot came over the speaker and told us the plane had a mechanical problem that would take 15 minutes to fix. We were taken off the plane so work could begin.
Fifteen minutes soon turned into three hours. With each passing hour I began to worry I would miss my next layover, and I’d have to fly to Brazil alone, not knowing a word of Portuguese and running the risk of having nobody there to pick me up.
I started to get scared. I knew I was doing the right thing going to Brazil to serve a mission, but why couldn’t it go smoothly? Why was this happening?
I called my house from a pay phone. With tears in my eyes I asked my mom to contact the Church’s travel office to tell them I would miss my flight in Dallas. I wanted so badly to ask her to make the drive down to the airport to pick me up. I caught myself thinking, “Maybe I can leave for my mission next week.” But I knew that wasn’t the right thing, so I held my tongue. It was hard to say goodbye and hang up the phone.
I sat there for a second trying to collect myself, and I turned around. Just then a woman passed by me, holding her little boy’s hand. She saw my name tag and immediately stopped.
“Elder! Are you coming home or just leaving for the field?”
I told her I was just leaving, and with a smile she told me her little boy looked up to us missionaries. She wished me luck and left.
I don’t even know her name, but that conversation of less than one minute gave me the strength I needed to continue. It is one of the most memorable tender mercies I have experienced. I knew God was aware of me. He wanted me to do this—and I knew that I could.

Before she found the gospel, A. Munkhsaihan saw the world as a dark place with little hope. Finding faith and hope through the gospel changed the world for her.

In the years before 1990, she taught Russian. But when the political and cultural climate of Mongolia changed, she found that she needed to learn English so she could teach it. Munkhsaihan studied English for a year with Latter-day Saint missionaries. Before listening to the missionary discussions, she determined that she would examine their faith carefully. She found their religion was more than a faith based on true principles—it was a way of life. She was baptized and confirmed in June 2000, and the rest of her family joined the Church a month later. Now she sees the world as a much brighter place for her, her children, and her grandchildren. Currently, she serves as president of the Relief Society in the Ulaanbaatar district.

After the gospel changed her own life, Munkhsaihan wondered what would happen if she applied its principles in her work as a teacher. She began trying consciously to love all her students—and with some that was difficult. She began to pray for her students. Interestingly, she found herself changing; she developed a greater capacity to love them. Even though the students did not know she was praying for them, their attitudes toward her changed as well.

“As we exercise faith in the gospel, we can change ourselves,” she says.

And this, her experience suggests, is how the gospel may change Mongolia. As members change themselves through faith in Jesus Christ, they will change the world around them.

Heber Jeddy Grant was tall, thin, and not very strong. He played baseball with the younger boys because he couldn’t throw the ball very far.
Jeddy wanted to play ball with the boys his own age, so he spent many hours shining boots to earn enough money to buy a baseball.
When Jeddy had earned a dollar, he bought a baseball. Then he practiced countless hours throwing it against his neighbor’s barn.
Finally Jeddy’s skill improved. The boys his own age were impressed with how well he could throw a ball, and they let him play baseball with them.
Eventually Jeddy’s baseball team became the territory champions; they went on to beat the championship teams of California, Colorado, and Wyoming.
Heber Jeddy Grant learned the importance of setting and achieving goals. This ability helped him greatly when he became the seventh President of the Church.

In 1979, while serving as Sunday School general president, I was invited to attend a Regional Representatives seminar during which President Kimball gave an inspiring address about opening the doors of nations then closed to the Church, such as China. He challenged all present to study the Mandarin language so we could offer our professional skills to help the people of China.
To me, President Kimball’s challenge seemed like a prophetic mandate. So that very night I asked my late wife, Dantzel, if she would be willing to study Mandarin with me. She agreed, and we found a tutor to help us. Of course we didn’t learn to speak Mandarin very well, but we learned enough so that when I was invited the very next year (through a series of highly unexpected events) to go to China as a visiting professor to teach open-heart surgery, I was in a better position to accept the invitation.
Fast-forward five years to 1985, the year after I had been called to the Quorum of the Twelve. One day I received an urgent request to go to China to perform open-heart surgery on that nation’s famous opera star, regarded throughout China as a national hero. I explained that my full-time ecclesiastical responsibility prevented my coming, but the doctors in China pleaded with me to come at once to perform the life-saving operation.
I discussed the matter with my quorum president and the First Presidency. They felt impressed that, as a favor to the people of China, I should make the trip and perform the operation.
That I did. Gratefully, the operation was a success! Incidentally, that was the last open-heart operation I ever performed. It was in Jinan, China, on March 4, 1985.
Now fast-forward again, this time to October 2015. Wendy and I were invited to return to Shandong University School of Medicine in Jinan. We were amazed when I was warmly welcomed as “an old friend” of China and was reunited with surgeons I had taught 35 years earlier. A highlight of our visit was meeting with the son and grandson of that famous opera star. All of these amazing experiences were enabled for one reason: I heeded the counsel of a prophet to study Mandarin!

I would like to take you back a few years to the time of the Olympics in Salt Lake City. We had spent over two years of incredible efforts trying to get everything ready, in spite of a troubled history. The summer before the Games were to be held, we were finally beginning to feel somewhat confident that we would do well. However, just five months before the Opening Ceremonies were to be held, 9/11 was thrust upon all of us – an unimaginable tragedy. I clearly remember that morning, sitting at our headquarters speaking with Mitt Romney on the phone, who was just then driving by the Pentagon as it was enveloped in smoke, thinking “how are we going to host the world in just five months and keep them safe?”

We then embarked on a full review of our security planning and although we found it to be quite solid, we saw areas that needed enhancements. The law enforcement agencies and members of the Secret Service, FBI, military and FEMA were great partners and became good friends. One area of strength was protecting the athletes, thinking back to the tragedy of Munich – making sure we did everything to ensure their safety. The most vulnerable time for the athletes is when they are been transported to and from the venues. We put in place something called AVLs, or Automated Vehicle Locators, into each athlete transportation vehicle. These AVLs were GPS-based wherein the location of each vehicle was continuously communicated to security headquarters. In addition, each vehicle’s specific route was programmed into our database such that if it went off course by more than 50 feet, alarms would go off at security headquarters. We had Secret Service stationed throughout the Olympic theatre, who could respond quickly to any emergency.

A few days before the Games began, athletes arrived to settle into the Olympic Village and to practice at the venues. During this period, the AVLs were active and one morning, the alarms went off. A bus for a hockey team was off course. We called the driver on the radio and then the cell phone. No response. Could we have trouble already, even before the Games began? The Secret Service was scrambled to the location of the bus and found it empty – in a McDonald’s parking lot. They ended up joining the driver, safe and sound, for breakfast at McDonald’s. Tragedy averted.

When we go off course a little, do the alarms go off for us? Do we have the Spirit with us to warn us? Do we listen to the Light of Christ, or our conscience? Do we recognize when we are heading a little off course and quickly change directions to the straight and narrow path? If we begin to ignore the alarms or if we don’t hear them anymore, we should put our heads up, “look down the track” and recognize where we are headed, especially when we think things are somewhat OK; yet we may, in fact, be off course. The easiest way off course is just a little at a time, when it is barely noticeable. This is a key part of the message of “All is well in Zion.”

Some 12 years ago, there was a tennis match with two LDS physicians and a nonmember medical student from Brazil. With no intervening communication, last month in Curitiba, Brazil, Valentim Goncalves stood by me again, not on a tennis court but instead in a regional conference to translate for me. Thanks to his innate goodness and the good work of others, ophthalmologist Valentim is not only a member but is a stake president in Curitiba. Valentim and his special wife, sealed in the temple, have been blessed with three lovely children. This remarkable rendezvous added to my already appreciative wonder over the workings of the hand of the Lord (see D&C 59:21).

And that brings me to my wife, Elisa. I remember the first time I met her. As a favor to a friend, I had gone to her home to pick up her sister, Frances. Elisa opened the door, and at least for me, it was love at first sight.

I think she must have felt something too, for the first words I ever remember her saying were, “I knew who you was.”

Elisa was an English major.

To this day I still cherish those five words as some of the most beautiful in human language.

She was my strength and my joy. Because of her, I am a better man, husband, and father. We married, had eight children, and walked together through 65 years of life.

I owe more to my wife than I can possibly express. I don’t know if there ever was a perfect marriage, but, from my perspective, I think ours was.

Keite de Lima A. Ahmed and Viviana Torres Noguera struggled to make ends meet even though their husbands worked hard for their families. For both, the PEF was a great blessing.
Viviana and her husband, Rafael, moved from Colombia to Manaus, an important industrial center in northern Brazil, in 2002 in search of economic opportunity. “Prayer, family councils, guidance from priesthood leaders, and career workshop classes helped us to know what our Father in Heaven wanted for us and to make the right decision at the right time,” says Viviana, who felt prompted to use a PEF loan to study international business.
In 2007 Viviana went to work overseeing imports for a supermarket in Manaus. Her family needed the extra income, but with a baby on the way, she had to resign. A few months after that child—the couple’s fourth—was born, Viviana was offered a job as director of international commerce for another company. By this time she had learned to speak Portuguese, and her native Spanish made her invaluable in doing business with Brazil’s Spanish-speaking neighbors.
“When I was offered the job, I said, ‘I have four children. I can’t commit myself to work 8:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m.,’” says Viviana. “My boss told me that he had a lot of confidence in my abilities, saying, ‘I need someone I can depend on. Work at home.’ That surprised me.”
Using the Internet and a computer, Viviana works at home while her older children attend school and her baby naps. Only occasionally does she have to go to the office.
Rafael attributes the family’s blessings to more than coincidence. “The blessings we have received have come from a series of prayerful decisions and from actions made possible by the tools the Church has provided,” he says.

One of the most boring discipline remedies that I can remember was “sitting on the chair.” When we were being punished for misbehavior, we had to sit on a hard chair in a corner of our dining room for a certain time which Mom would set on the oven buzzer. What made this punishment particularly unpleasant was that the chair was right by the piano. It never failed that a big sister would plop down on the piano bench and, seeing she had a captive audience, sing and play to her heart’s content. Talk about a fate worse than death!
That form of punishment failed because Mom and Dad had to worry about us sneaking off the chair and reducing the time on the buzzer, or simply disappearing. It proved a discipline dead end.

With that kind of tradition, it was no wonder that Dene had soccer (or football, as the British usually call it) in his blood. The first gift he received from his father was a soccer ball. When he began walking at 11 months, that ball was an old and treasured possession and he began kicking it immediately. By the time he was a year and a half old, he was handling it better than most Americans his age ever would. But at that point he suffered his first setback. One day while he was out kicking his ball, he slipped and broke his leg. He was in a hospital six weeks with his leg in a sling, and he wore a cast for another six weeks. He had to learn to walk all over again, but he began kicking the ball long before his cast came off.

Eliza felt like she had butterflies in her stomach as she stood outside the school gym. She had spent the last month getting ready to try out for the school volleyball team. And today was finally the tryout!
She took a deep breath as she pushed open the gym door. Don’t be nervous, she told herself. Don’t be nervous!
Eliza might not be the best player, but she’d been practicing every day with her sister. She’d improved a lot!
“Eliza!” her friend Jada called from the other side of the gym. “Want to practice with me?”
They found a volleyball and passed it back and forth to each other. It helped Eliza feel a bit better. I can do this! she thought.
When the coach finally arrived, Eliza and Jada joined the other girls in the center of the gym. The coach welcomed them, and then tryouts began!
First they did some warm-ups. Then they split into teams and practiced hitting the ball to each other. They ended with a game of volleyball. Eliza felt good when she earned her team a point.
Two hours later, Eliza was back home and exhausted. She fell on the couch, ready to rest.
“How did it go?” Mom asked.
“I think it went OK,” Eliza said. She still felt a little nervous. “There was one girl who was really good. She’ll be on the team for sure!”
“When do you find out if you made it?” Mom asked.
“Tomorrow after school. They’ll have a list in the gym.”
Eliza could hardly wait for tomorrow! After dinner, she went straight to bed. In 19 hours I’ll know if I made the team! She knew it was going to be a long night.
As soon as school was over the next day, Eliza hurried to the gym. There it was! The list of girls who made the team was hanging on the wall. Lots of girls were crowded around it.
Eliza rushed over to the list and read it quickly. Then she read it again and felt her stomach drop. Her name wasn’t there! The girl who was really good made the team. Jada also made the team. A lot of her other friends made it too.
But I wasn’t good enough, she thought.
After going home and telling Mom her news, Eliza hid in her bedroom for the rest of the day. She didn’t want to see anyone.
She had just decided to stay in her room forever when she smelled something. It smelled so good! Eliza tried to focus on the book she was reading, but it was too hard. What was that smell? It was something familiar …
Eliza couldn’t ignore it any longer. She sneaked into the kitchen to investigate.
Key lime pie! That was her favorite dessert!
“Why are we having pie?” Eliza asked her dad.
“It’s not just a pie,” Dad said. “It’s a try pie.”
“What?”
“It’s for you. We’re going to celebrate your tryout.”
Eliza’s stomach dropped. “Didn’t Mom tell you? I didn’t make the team. I failed.”
“Part of learning new things means not always succeeding. That can be scary. But the important thing is you still tried. We think that’s worth celebrating!”
“Really?” Eliza asked.
“Really!” Dad said.
That night, Eliza and her family ate the pie. Eliza piled lots of whipped cream on her slice. It was delicious!
“Thanks for the pie,” Eliza said, with her mouth full.
“You’re welcome,” Mom said. “We’re proud of you for trying something hard!”

Starting in the middle of the week by cleaning all the salt and pepper shakers in the kitchen, the girls of the San Jose First Ward also washed walls and cleaned the cupboards. Then they joined the boys in digging weeds from a patch of ground near the chapel that is used for an herb garden.

“I didn’t even know we had an herb garden,” Paula Rudy, 18, said as she carried a pile of weeds to a trash can.

The San Jose Second Ward Scouts and Venturers rejuvenated the outside of their chapel by painting the eaves above outside entrances. Laurels and Mia Maids cleaned all the filters and grills for the heating and air-conditioning system. Then they painted the bathrooms and locker rooms, filling in and repairing joints and cracks. Everyone planned to return later in the week to finish the interior painting when the patches had dried.

“Work first, play later is pretty much what it was,” said Mike Black, 16. “That was neat because we worked on the service project first and that was altogether togetherness.”

The San Jose 18th Ward was in charge of the decorations for the dance. Jeanne Meeks, the Laurel adviser, said a month of planning was involved in the decorations. “The kids did it all. That’s one thing that made it so much fun for them,” she said, noting that several nonmembers helped in designing bow ties, eyes, and a hat that were attached to the Volkswagen.

A late-model Beetle had originally been chosen as the car to be brought into the gym. But when the dance committee tried to get it in the door, it was two inches too wide! Someone commented that older cars were smaller. The committee contacted Brother Bert Smith, a science teacher at one of the local schools, and they were able to squeeze his older car through the opening.

The dance committee also asked Brother Smith to use test tubes to set up a “mad scientist” booth at which he brewed root beer. With a wig on his head, surrounded by a cloud of dry ice “steam,” and dressed in a white lab coat, he served thirsty dancers throughout the evening.

Sister Carolyn Wright, the stake Young Women president, said she felt all the stake members involved in the service projects and in the planning of the other activities had learned some important lessons:
—That the young people of the stake were capable of generating ideas and following through on assignments, checking up on themselves to make sure everything was prepared.
—That cooperation between adults and youth is not only necessary, but fun as well.
—That guidelines provided to youth leaders, including suggestions on how to get ideas from bishopric youth committees and from Laurel, Mia Maid, Scout, and priest classes, are indeed helpful.

Sister Wright said, “We just followed the outlines given to us.” She added that youth leaders decided for themselves what activities they would like to have, drew up a list, and then narrowed down the possibilities until they felt they had a reasonable proposal. For example, Frank Taylor, a college student who is stake secretary of the Young Men, originated the chariot race idea.

Many of the service project participants agreed that their time had been well-spent.

“It was fun. I learned a lot from doing it, and I felt good afterwards. I’ve been happy all day,” said Steve Payton, a 16-year-old from the 18th Ward. David Booher, from the 13th Ward, said he felt the service projects were better organized than any he had participated in before.

Judy Nunn, 16, a First Ward member, said holding the service project and the games on the same day was beneficial. “Having it all in one day got a lot more people to come to the service project,” she said.

“I feel good about it,” said Hank Loy, 16, of the 13th Ward. “You feel just as good about a service project as the people you do it for.”

Even as the service projects were continuing, chariot construction was in the polishing stages. In the First Ward, the bishop filled in at the service project in place of Dave Holcomb, who had been working on the chariot since 6:00 A.M. At 1:00 P.M., when the vehicle was finally done, the team rolled it down the street to the high school.

“We put a stereo in it, and Brother Charles McClellan, the priests quorum adviser, helped with the wiring and balanced the weight,” Ron Fowler, a priest in the ward, explained. With the stereo playing the racing theme from the movie Ben Hur, the black chariot with gold trim attracted a lot of attention on its way to the stadium. Some people, when they heard there would be a chariot race, followed along out of curiosity.

One of the chariot builders in another ward gave up his bike for a week so he could use its wheels on the chariot. The 23rd Ward modeled a horse’s head out of aluminum foil to mount on the front of its entry.

Younger brothers and sisters were recruited as riders because of their light weight. In the 13th Ward the chariot construction was a family effort, as Phil Dold and his father designed and built their version of a Roman race car. Throughout the stake, Relief Society sisters sewed capes and fabricated helmets for the riders, including remodeled football helmets.

One ward installed carpeting and a CB radio in its chariot. And the Scouts in another ward spent several activity nights learning to weld as they built their entry.

As the racers, fans, and chariots arrived at the high school, the conversation sounded like one between automotive designers. Amateur engineers extolled the virtues of a low center of gravity, discussed pulling handle alignment, and debated the sturdiness of wheel and axle attachment to the frame.

“I thought nobody would be that interested in building the chariots because it would take a lot of time and effort,” said Dave Davis, 17, of the Second Ward. “But everybody really came through.”

Before the actual chariot race, several hours of games, designed for individual and group participation, offered a chance for recreation following a morning of hard work. To allow all of the young people to participate, adults were asked to be in charge of the different events. Colored tickets were used to limit the number of participants in a given activity at a given time.

The first contest was a balloon toss, with partners facing each other in two long lines down the center of the football field. Water-filled balloons were gently thrown between partners until only one couple remained with an unbroken balloon.

Following the balloon toss, ten other games were offered for individual competition. They included: (1) Duffle bag stuffing. With boxing gloves on, the contestant stuffed foam-rubber strips into a duffle bag, racing against the clock. (2) Spray bottle target practice. With a laundry spray bottle, each participant had to knock off a Ping-Pong ball perched atop a soda bottle. (3) Punch-drinking race. Slurping through a rubber tubing “straw” several feet long, the first person to empty a 32-ounce cup was the winner. (4) A gelatin-eating contest, with hands tied behind the back. (5) Marshmallow munching. Without the use of his hands, each contestant tried to be the one who could get the most marshmallows inside his mouth—and then close his lips. (6) Flying marshmallows. While riding a bicycle, the contestant attempted to catch a marshmallow—hung from the goal post on a piece of string—in his mouth. (7) Tricycle races (limited to those too big to ride a tricycle). (8) Blindfolded cotton-picker. A scarf was tied over the participants’ eyes. The object of the game was to spoon the greatest number of cotton balls into a bowl in 30 seconds. A stiff breeze made this a difficult project. (9) An obstacle course, including old tires, hurdles, and barrels to roll in. (10) Chocolate pudding pals. Teams were composed of three people. Two were blindfolded. One of them fed the other the pudding by following the directions of the third, who was not wearing a blindfold.

Each person was free to compete in as many individual events as he desired. These were followed by group games, which included a tug-of-war; a car-stuffing contest (28 crammed themselves into a Volkswagen); a battle over a huge, canvas ball, which could only be tossed over the goal-post by several people working together; and a contest to see how many people would fit in a four-foot circle.

A final contest before the chariot race also served to clean up the field. Each ward was given a large plastic sack, and the team with the most pieces of garbage in the bag at the end of the day was honored at the dance.

At last, the chariots were wheeled into position at the starting line. Two elimination heats of 220 yards apiece narrowed the field of six down to the three fastest teams.

“On your mark, get set, go!” the starter screamed. The speed was as fast as a 50-yard dash. Noise from the audience was so loud that Little League baseball players and their parents rushed from the other side of the school to see what was going on.

About halfway around the track, the all-girl 23rd Ward team fell behind. The other two teams were in a dead heat coming around the final turn.

On both chariots, the sprinters were nearly exhausted. Some, too tired to continue pulling, released the handles and dropped to the side of the track. The 13th Ward had only two men left, plus the rider, as the low-slung chariot pulled ahead of the First Ward’s team by four feet at the finish line.

A large banner with the number 13 on it was thrown into the air. The winners’ friends and families surrounded them, smiling, shaking hands, hugging each other, and saying, “I knew we could do it!”

Then, through the middle of the throng, President “Caesar” Brockbank pressed forward, bearing the trophy with him. He called for Kendall Hansen and Corian Taylor, who had pulled the winning chariot across the finish line. The crowd parted to let them pass, and the trophy was in their hands.

After the race, the youth of the stake were enthusiastic about the success of the day.

Karen Maury, 16, the 18th Ward Laurel president, said, “I feel the youth of the stake are beginning to gain a testimony of who we are. This whole weekend I’ve spent so much time with the Church that I know it’s going to really build me, to help me to do other things.”

Kathy Ricks, a 16-year-old 13th Warder, said, “I think the best part about it was the closeness everyone felt. I’ve never been to an event like that before, where I’ve made so many friends. You realized how much the youth are able to plan things, that they are capable.”

Mike Standard, 15, of the 13th Ward, added that “a lot of us brought friends who weren’t Mormons, and they really enjoyed it, because they saw what youth, working together, can do. They didn’t know people could just get together and do something and it could work like this did. It was a great missionary tool.”

The Second Ward’s Christan Linebarger, 16, summarized: “I’ve never seen the wards so close before. The spirit that was put across in the enthusiasm was really spectacular. I think that was the most special part of the day. It wasn’t important who won the chariot race or the tug-of-war, but it was important that the whole ward was together in whatever we were doing. That was the most special thing.”

Slowly the stadium emptied. The competitors and the fans went home to clean up and get ready for the dance. On Sunday the lessons learned in the race were emphasized during priesthood and Sunday School. At the fireside, members of the stake presidency drew analogies between pulling together as teams both in church work and in life, as well as stressing the ability of youth to engage in good, clean fun.

The lessons had meaning, because the day had been complete. Service to others was the lesson of the morning, and the need to work with others was evident in the games and in the stampede of chariots Saturday afternoon.

And as for fun, it was a good thing President Brockbank announced the Ben Hur Memorial Traveling Award as a traveling trophy, because it was obvious this would not be the last chariot race in the San Jose California Stake.

“Okay, I’m going to need your full name for these records. Last name?”
“Trent,” I answered, sounding a little cocky. I was proud of my last name. I had ancestors involved in all sorts of historical events. James Trent was one of the first men to found Virginia; there was the Council of Trent that reformed the Catholic Church; and there’s also a street in England bearing my last name. Trent. What a great name, I thought to myself as the secretary typed it.
“First name.”
“Jared,” I answered with even more pride. I had created a name for myself at school. I was the crazy kid, or—my personal favorite—“Ask Jared, he can answer anything.” I wondered if the secretary knew how wonderful my name was. She was, after all, typing it in bold print.
“Middle name.”
“M,” I answered as if the question wasn’t even worth an answer.
“Come on now, Jared. I need to know your middle name, not just your initial.”
Now was the hard part, disclosing my middle name. She wasn’t going to buy my middle initial trick. I was trapped.
“Moroni,” I said quietly.
“Could you spell that for me.”
“M-O-R-O-N-I.” I was growing uneasy.
“Hmm, that’s an interesting middle name. Is it Italian?”
“No, it’s a religious name.”
“Odd, I don’t remember ever reading about any Moroni in the Bible. At any rate, let’s finish this so you can start work.”
I didn’t know then why I was embarrassed by the name. It just seemed so odd to me. No one I knew, not even any of the people in my ward, had a name from the Book of Mormon. I remember once receiving a letter addressed to Jared Moron Trent. One slip of the computer, leaving off the last letter, and I was Moron.
Then, one day in seminary, my teacher asked us if we had ever read about Captain Moroni. I knew who the Angel Moroni is—the one whose statue stands on top of the temples. But I had never read the Book of Mormon, and so I had never heard of this captain guy. All I knew was that he shared my name. Then my teacher told us about the bravery and brilliance of Captain Moroni. He had invented armor for his soldiers at a time when armor wasn’t heard of. He protected entire cities and used military techniques far more advanced than some used today. He was a genius. I kept reading.
The next day my teacher asked the class if anyone knew what my middle name was. Most didn’t because I hadn’t told many people. Then she asked me to tell the class. After I did she explained that my parents had named me with an unusual name to help them share the gospel. In Saudi Arabia, where I was born, it is illegal to discuss other religions unless people ask about them. So my parents had named me, hoping that people would question the origin of my name and that would lead them to discuss the Church. I was completely surprised. I hadn’t known I had been a missionary when I was born. I was not only named after a great general, but the angel that helped to restore the gospel.
I no longer wanted to hide my middle name. I realized that the importance and nobility of it far surpassed my first and last names. I say it now with pride, explaining to people the origin of it, and why it’s such a wonderful name. I no longer think of it as one letter away from meaning idiot, but as one step away from achieving celestial glory, as the two Moronis of old did. I only hope that I might live up to its greatness.

That is a question that a lot of us would like to know the answer to. Scientists also are searching for the answer to such a strange phenomenon. To find out what they are learning, two of my sons and I took a trip to Scripps Institution of Oceanography last March. While visiting the aquarium there, we picked up a pamphlet that listed the times of high and low tides for the area around San Diego. Sandwiched in the center of the booklet was an article called “The Grunion Story.” It described the strange habits of a small silvery fish called the grunion that beaches itself upon the sand in very large numbers about twice each month at certain times of the year. These “runs,” as they are called, can be predicted fairly accurately from a knowledge of the tides. The booklet indicated that a grunion run was expected to begin about one o’clock the following morning. Well, you can probably guess what happened when my boys read that!

In the dead of night, Keith’s wristwatch alarm rang to wake us up. We got dressed and headed outside, where we were greeted by a fog so thick that we could only see a few feet in front of us. Undaunted, we climbed into our car and inched our way down the winding street to the ocean’s edge.

Except for us and a couple of sleepy-looking birds, the beach was deserted. Where is everyone? we wondered. We watched wave after wave roll in and break upon the sand and then recede, but no grunion appeared. I stood watch on a rock a little farther out, where a large wave broke over my feet and filled my shoes with water. But still no grunion. After an hour of fruitless waiting, we gave up and wended our way through the heavy fog back to the motel, where we lapsed into sleep.

Suddenly Keith’s alarm rang again, and we saw that it was light outside. It was almost time for the aquarium to open, so we hustled off without eating breakfast. When we got there, however, the aquarium was still closed. Puzzled, we peered through the glass door to see a large clock on the wall with its big hand on six and its little hand between seven and eight. Keith’s watch also had its big hand on six, but its little hand was between eight and nine. Then we realized the reason for the absence of people and grunion at the beach that night. Keith’s watch was an hour fast. We had arrived an hour early and left just before the grunion run was supposed to start!

“You’re unusually quiet,” Mark’s mother observed on the drive home from Church. “Is anything wrong?”
Mark found tears stinging the corners of his eyes. “Today in Primary our teacher talked about testimonies and challenged us to bear ours. I really wanted to do it in fast and testimony meeting today, but I just couldn’t. When I thought about standing up in front of all those people, I got scared. Besides, I couldn’t think of anything to say. I guess I don’t have a testimony, after all.”
“It is frightening to stand up in front of all those people, especially if you don’t know what you’re going to say,” Mark’s mother agreed with him. “But it doesn’t mean that you don’t have a testimony. Do you know what it means to ‘bear a testimony’?”
“My teacher said it means to stand as a witness for something, like at a trial.”
“That’s one meaning. But another meaning of bear is ‘carry it with you.’ Our testimonies show in what we say and do every day of the week, not just on Sundays. Do you want to know if you have a testimony?”
“Yes.”
“Pay attention to how you live your life this month. I think you’ll discover that you are bearing your testimony all the time.”
Mark hoped that what his mother said was right. He thought that he had a testimony, but he wasn’t sure. He decided that each Sunday he would write in his journal about anything that happened to him that week involving his testimony.
The first week he wrote about something his friend, Jay, had said to him. He and Jay shared a paper route after school and split their paycheck. That week Jay had said to him, “I can’t understand why you always have more money than I do—we get paid the same amount.”
“You always spend yours right away on little things,” Mark pointed out.
“I know,” Jay said. “But a lot of yours goes to your church for—what do you call it again?”
“Tithing.”
“Yeah, tithing. And into your mission savings. But you still have more left than I do.”
Mark had never thought about it before, but it was true. He did seem to have more spending money than Jay. He guessed that he was just more careful with what he had left after tithing and savings.
The next week he didn’t know what he’d write about in his journal until Saturday night. That night his friends came over and invited him to go to the movies with them. He was excited until he heard the name of the movie. “I can’t see that movie,” he told his friends.
They were surprised. “Why not? It’s a really funny movie.”
“Because the rating tells me that it has something in it that we shouldn’t see.”
“It’s just a movie,” his friends tried to persuade him.
Mark thought about a lesson his family had had at a family home evening. He knew that the prophets had warned about watching bad things on TV and in movies, or looking at bad things in magazines or books. It was almost impossible to erase those bad images from your mind.
“I’d rather not see it,” he said, and his friends went without him.
The third week, Mark knew what he was going to write about in his journal long before Sunday. It was Monday morning, in fact, when one of his friends, Rob, had come to school looking very tired.
“What’s wrong,” Mark asked him. “Are you sick?”
“No.” Rob yawned. “I didn’t sleep much last night. I ate too much candy, and my stomach was upset for a long time.”
“Too much candy isn’t good for you,” Mark said. “It’s better to snack on fruit or eat a cheese sandwich or something.”
“I know that now,” Rob said as he put his head down on his desk.
The last week of the month, Mark wrote about a very frightening thing that had happened to him. He had been out delivering his papers in the rain and was almost hit by a car. Later he remembered that in their family prayers that morning, his little sister had prayed that they would all be safe in the rain.
When fast Sunday came again, Mark was prepared. His family sat close to the front of the chapel so that he could be first to the podium when it was time for bearing testimonies. During the meeting, he offered a prayer in his heart that he would know what to say.
When it was time, he stood and walked up to the microphone. At first, he was nervous at seeing all the people looking back at him, but most of them were smiling, and he knew that they were his friends.
“I have a testimony of the law of tithing,” he began, “and of the Word of Wisdom. I know we have a living prophet today, and I know Heavenly Father answers our prayers.” Mark ended his testimony and sat down. His mom patted him on the knee.
He still felt a bit shaky, but mostly he had a really good feeling, like he was glowing from head to toe. He was glad that he had a testimony and that he could bear it every single day.

Hi! My name is Juan Bautista, and I’m from Argentina. I shine my light by sharing the gospel.
My best friend Facundo and I have known each other since we were five. We both love football! I invited him to a lot of Church activities.
Once when Facundo was having dinner with us, he asked, “Why does your family always pray?” I said it’s because Heavenly Father blesses us, and this is how we thank Him. He was amazed!
Facundo came to a family home evening when my brother Benjamin was getting ready for baptism. Facundo felt the Spirit, and he asked if he could get baptized too! My father then talked to Facundo’s parents.
The missionaries taught Facundo’s family. Then Facundo and his sister Augustine both got baptized! His parents come to church, but they haven’t been baptized yet.
Facundo asked my mom if he would ever know as much as I do about God. She smiled and said that if he studies his scriptures and prays, he could learn even more!

When I was a little girl we only had radio. Every Saturday morning I would jump out of bed the moment I heard the music that meant my favorite radio program, "Let's Pretend" was about to begin. My mind filled with images as I listened to the program each week. There were Princes, white horses, castles, gorgeous princesses and happily ever after. The words and sound effects helped me see it all. I'm so grateful for those innocent exciting images of my childhood. I exercised my imagination every Saturday morning and lots of other times, too.

Sometimes I feel like you have been robbed because your childhood included a TV, a computer and video images. Violent video games that are built around killing and destruction frighten me when I think what is being taught. Why are so many children acting out what they have seen?

I need to conclude in deference to your classes by sharing a couple of things that have happened recently. Last Friday night a dear, longtime friend toppled over at a dinner we were attending. He was unconscious and dying—it was obvious. There were some physicians in the group, one of whom reached him immediately and quickly did what had to be done to save him from choking to death on regurgitation.

Before the 911 folks arrived with their professional skills, our friend was regaining consciousness. His first words were to ask for a blessing, and some there who loved him and were qualified knelt around and petitioned the Lord to bless him.

This sobering incident seemed to me a choice example of the blending of spiritual and temporal help in reaching to supply the needs of those in trouble. It seemed also a clear example of diversity among us in responding to our observation of a need and in our helpfulness in quickly moving to offer assistance. Many present were capable of offering the help urgently needed, but many stood or sat in apparent shock or indecisiveness while a handful moved into action. A life was saved that it seemed certain would be lost.