Gospel Story Finder

At BYU-Idaho we have exceptional faculty. When our students speak of their teachers we see big smiles and sometimes tear-filled eyes of gratitude. Last winter semester, I walked our campus with a film crew to capture a few of these stories. Before being recorded, we asked permission to share students’ responses.
One student looked especially surprised, pulled me aside, and humbly asked, “But Sister Meredith, I’m a convert. Do you still want my story?” I was taken aback by her response and reassured her that yes, her experience is just as valuable as any other student’s experience. We are thrilled that she has chosen BYU-Idaho to continue her journey of discipleship while receiving an education.
As I have pondered her question, I have wondered if I adequately communicated just how loved she is. Though each student who attends this university comes through a unique path with differing life experiences, we hope you understand your true identity and the great love our Heavenly Father and His Son have for each of you. We feel it keenly every day. You are meant to do great things!

I want to share a story that sums up all the points I've addressed today. My great-grandmother Wetekia Rukuku Elkington was born and raised on a small island called Rangitoto Ki te tonga or more commonly known in English as D'Urville Island. When Wetekia was about 14 years old she had a dream and in the dream she saw two Caucasian men in top hats and black coats and when they prayed they raised their right hand to the square. She said, "I was standing on a very wide and beautiful plain. Around me were many people standing in many small groups. They appeared to me to be very sad. I wanted to know the cause of their sadness but could find no answer to my question because none would speak to me. While doing this I heard a voice far away but I couldn't understand the words until the voice was almost over me. Wetekia heard a voice in Maori say "O house of Israel, how oft have I gathered you as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings and ye would not—I will gather you as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, if ye will repent and return unto me. [3 Nephi 10:5]. When I heard these words I looked up and saw a white dove flying over me saying these words. I clapped my hands and looked up and said, "Yes Lord, I will repent and turn unto thee." The white dove then turned into a book, a book with the pages opened out towards me. I woke up then shouting those words, I was so happy. My father rushed over to me and asked what was the matter. I told him of the dream and he said to me "It is a good dream, you are blessed of God."

Some time later a cousin returned from visiting the main island and shared with his relatives that a new religion was being taught and the missionaries of that religion traveled in pairs and taught from a new book of scripture. Upon hearing this, Wetekia immediately recognized the new religion being described as the one from her dream. Her father sent for the LDS missionaries to come to the island and teach the people about the new religion. In 1892 Wetekia, her father and several relatives were baptized members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. For Wetekia her dream had such a profound impact on her it was a defining experience in her life. Because of it, she was convinced that the Lord wanted her and her people to hear the message of the gospel and to follow the savior by joining His church. This decision has had eternal ramifications for not only her and her own posterity but many others. Today the Ngati Koata tribe is known as predominantly LDS, five and six generations of her posterity are members of the church. Hundreds of her descendents have served missions, been married in the Temple and served in various leadership positions in the church. Truly the results of her being open to the Lord's will and following the promptings of the Spirit are hard quantify over 100 years later. The impact of her decision still continues. I'm happy to say that two of Wetekia's great-great grandchildren are current students at BYUH.

Lorenzo Snow was still at work in his office in the Salt Lake Temple. It was dark outside, and the stars had come out. He was the fifth President of the Church, but he was also serving as the first president of the Salt Lake Temple at the time. He often stayed late into the evening to finish his work.

President Snow’s granddaughter Allie Young loved to visit him at his office. In those days, family members of the temple president were allowed to visit him there. They were not allowed to go through the entire temple, however, until they were old enough and had been found worthy and ready to make the sacred temple covenants.

This special evening Allie was with her grandfather in his office. The doorkeepers had gone home and the night watchmen had not yet come in, so they were alone. When Allie was ready to leave, President Snow went to a dresser and took a large bunch of keys from the drawer so that he could let her out the main entrance. Together they walked down a large corridor near the celestial room.

President Snow suddenly stopped and said, “Wait a moment, Allie. I want to tell you something.” Allie listened intently as her grandfather told her of an unforgettable experience he had once had at that place in the temple: “It was right here that the Lord Jesus Christ appeared to me at the time of the death of President Woodruff. He instructed me to go right ahead and reorganize the First Presidency of the Church at once and not wait as had been done after the death of the previous presidents, and that I was to succeed President Woodruff [as President of the Church].”
President Snow held out his left hand and said, “He stood right here, about three feet above the floor. It looked as though he stood on a plate of solid gold.”
Still speaking in hushed, reverent tones, President Snow told Allie that the Savior’s appearance was so glorious and bright that he could hardly look at Him.
President Snow put his right hand on Allie’s head and said, “Now granddaughter, I want you to remember that this is the testimony of your grandfather, that he told you with his own lips that he actually saw the Savior, here in the temple, and talked with him face to face.”
Allie listened to every word of this sacred experience and never forgot that precious moment but shared it many times later in her life with her family and friends.

President David O. McKay spoke about his horse Dandy, who wanted complete freedom and no restraints. President McKay said:
“Under the saddle he was as willing, responsive, and cooperative as a horse could be. …
“But Dandy resented restraint. He was ill-contented when tied and would nibble at the tie-rope until he was free. He would not run away, he just wanted to be free. Thinking other horses felt the same, he would proceed to untie their ropes. …
“… His curiosity and desire to explore the neighborhood led him and me into trouble. Once on the highway he was hit by an automobile. …
“Recovering from that, and still impelled with a feeling of wanderlust, he inspected the fence throughout the entire boundary. He even found the gates wired. …
“One day, however, somebody left the gate unwired. Detecting this, Dandy unlatched it and took another horse … with him, and together they … went to an old house used for storage. Dandy’s curiosity prompted him to push open the door. … There was a sack of grain. What a find! Yes, and what a tragedy. The grain was bait for rodents! In a few minutes Dandy and the other horse were in spasmodic pain, and shortly afterwards both were dead.”
President McKay continued: “How like Dandy are many of our youth! … They are impulsive, full of life, full of curiosity. … They, too, are restive under restraint, but if they are kept busy, guided carefully and rightly, they prove to be responsive and capable; but if left to wander unguided, they all too frequently violate principles of right which often lead to snares of evil, disaster, and even death.”

“I remember the excitement of being chosen as a crossing guard in sixth grade and how cold it was walking in the snow all the way to the school on the hill when I was in seventh grade. My biggest challenge was applying myself in school. I was more interested in sports and other things. Then, in junior high school, I was stimulated to learn so that I gained a balance in my life. I was able to pull up my grades and earn a scholarship.
“Serving a mission in Brazil was a great turning point in my life,” declared Elder Sorensen. “When I was twenty and had just completed two years of college at the University of Chicago on an academic/athletic scholarship, I had doubts about my going on a mission. When I returned home that summer, Mom said to me, ‘Well, now you can prepare for your mission.’
“Elder Sorensen told his mother that he had changed his mind and didn’t think that he would serve a mission. “I’ll never forget the hurt look on Mom’s face,” he recalled, “after I told her my decision. She didn’t scold me, but afterward she privately cried and prayed.
“I didn’t go back to school in Chicago that fall. With the help of Mom and Dad and a wise and understanding bishop, I accepted a mission call to Brazil and left for South America in 1940.
“It wasn’t very long after I arrived in the mission field and began studying the scriptures regularly that my testimony really began to grow. Since then it has never wavered but has grown stronger. I’m grateful to the Lord and my parents for guiding me at that very important crossroad.
“Children, listen to your parents. They love you more than anyone else does, except your Father in Heaven, who has an even greater capacity to love. If you follow their good teachings and example, you will always be happy that you did. And remember to follow the counsel and guidance of Church leaders, particularly your bishop.”

Many years ago in Cuzco, high in the Andes Mountains of Peru, Elder A. Theodore Tuttle and I held a sacrament meeting in a long, narrow room with a door that opened onto the street. It was night and it was very cold.

While Elder Tuttle spoke, a little boy, perhaps six years old, appeared in the doorway. He was naked except for a ragged shirt that went about to his knees.

On our left was a small table with a plate of bread for the sacrament. This ragged street orphan saw the bread and inched slowly along the wall toward it. He was almost to the table when a woman on the aisle saw him. With a stern toss of her head, she banished him out into the night. I groaned within myself.

Later the boy returned. He crept along the wall, glancing from the bread to me. He was near the point where the woman would see him again. I held out my arms, and he came running to me. I held him on my lap.

Then, as something symbolic, I set him in Elder Tuttle’s chair. After the closing prayer, much to my sorrow, he darted out into the night.

When I returned home, I told President Spencer W. Kimball about him. He was deeply moved and spoke of it in a conference talk. He told others of it and said to me more than once, “That experience has far greater meaning than you have yet come to know.”

I have never forgotten that little street orphan. Many times in South America I have looked for him in the faces of the people. When he comes back into my mind, others come with him.

Over the years, I have wondered what President Kimball meant when he reminded me of that street orphan in Cuzco and repeated, “That experience has far greater meaning than you have yet come to know.” One day he added, “You held a nation on your lap.”

Now in my 78th year, I understand what President Kimball was seeing; I know what he meant. That boy in Cuzco and the one in Japan and the other children about the world profoundly influence what I think and how I feel and what I pray for most earnestly. I constantly think of little children and their parents who struggle to raise them in ever more perilous times.

My name is Matilda, and I am from Chile. Ever since moving to another country, other kids have made me notice that I am different from them. They have laughed at my curly hair, the color of my eyes, my eyebrows, and even the color of my skin. They have called me ugly and weird and even told me that I am poor because I look different than everyone else.
My mom has taught me to respond to bullying with a smile. She says many times that people who bully are sad or are living with something that hurts them. She has also taught me that it’s not my fault, and being different is something good and wonderful. God created different kinds of things in the world like different plants, places, and people. It doesn’t matter how we look as long as we have a good heart.
Since my mom taught me that, every time I get bullied, I think about it and talk to the person who is saying bad things. I try to stop the situation. Once I told a classmate that saying bad things about others can hurt a lot. I said that he doesn’t know what happens to others in their hearts when they hear bad things about themselves for being different. Since that day, that classmate hasn’t made fun of me anymore, and now we are friends.
I think the way my mom taught me to fight bullying is the best way. She taught me to fight bullying with love, as God would do it. I try to always ask myself, “What would Jesus Christ do in this situation?” This has helped me come closer to our Heavenly Father.

When I was 14, I lived with my family on a small island off the coast of Malaysia. Weather on the island was always warm, so my family enjoyed an occasional escape to the cool highlands on the mainland. During one such escape, we decided to visit a small mountain village accessible only by a narrow road. For safety reasons, this road was closed after dark. During the day, it operated on an alternating hourly schedule with one-way traffic flow directed either up or down the mountain.
After spending the afternoon on the mountain, we decided to return to our hotel. We waited patiently for the traffic direction to change and began our descent. When we were about halfway down the mountain, the engine of our car stopped. With great effort, my father steered the stalled car into a clearing along the side of the road. He inspected the engine but couldn’t find the cause of our problem. Everything appeared to be fine, but the engine would not start.
We quickly realized how difficult our situation was. Even if we could find the cause of our engine trouble, we did not have the tools needed to make major repairs. We could not walk to find help because the only towns with services were miles away. We had little hope for help from other motorists because traffic was light and the road would soon be closed for the night.
Knowing that we could not solve the problem ourselves, my father called us together and led us in a family prayer. He explained the situation to Heavenly Father and asked for guidance and help in getting the engine started. As we said amen at the end of the prayer, the clearing was filled with a strong breeze that moved the surrounding trees and bushes. The air had been unusually still up to that point, and we all felt that the breeze was Heavenly Father’s way of telling us not to worry, that our prayers had been heard.
About a half hour after our family prayer, we heard the sound of a vehicle making its way up the mountain. When it came into view, we could see from the telephones painted on the doors that it was a government telecommunications vehicle. As it rounded the corner, it came to a halt, and three men walked over to our car. My father explained the trouble we were having, and the leader of the group assured us they would fix our car.
The men unloaded an array of specialized tools and began a systematic check of the engine. It was clear that the men were highly skilled and, after 30 minutes of work, they found and repaired a problem in the car’s electrical system.
As they packed up their tools, my father thanked them for their help and asked what had brought them up the mountain. The leader of the group explained that a television transmission tower on the mountaintop had gone dead. They had been sent to repair the tower but had felt compelled to help our family, even before restoring television service to a large part of the country. When we inquired further, we learned that the television transmissions had ended about the same time our engine had failed.
As we started down the mountain again, my heart was filled with gratitude for an earthly father who could call down the blessings of heaven and for a Heavenly Father who sent people to help us.

Normandie Luscher, 29, a Master of Fine Arts student in Maryland, USA, uses her artwork for good. “I’ve been focusing a lot over the last couple of years on the most important commandment, to love God and to love our neighbor,” she explains. “In my artwork I’ve been focusing on telling stories. We can really learn how to be compassionate and love our neighbors more by listening to them and hearing their stories.”
A self-proclaimed “idea person,” Normandie brings people together for good in many ways. A school project led her to put on a fundraiser for a local women’s shelter: a gallery show featuring paintings she created telling the story of Job through a woman’s perspective. “Other women came and shared their stories and their experiences,” she explains. “And I thought that was a really powerful thing.”
Another idea Normandie pursued was for a collaborate zine (a self-published or online magazine). She reached out to other artists, and together they told Book of Mormon stories through the lens of contemporary art.
Personally, Normandie has found that she can be an influence for good by opening up to others. “I’ve been working on developing the courage to be vulnerable and share my own experiences and perspectives. Art is about being honest and sharing ideas. So in terms of being a force for good, I’m just trying to embrace those ideas of being honest and courageous and reaching out to other people and communicating through visual art.”
She encourages other young adults to develop courage to do good too. “Don’t be afraid of not being able to do enough,” she says. “I think a lot of people get overwhelmed with, ‘There’s nothing that I can do,’ and falling into that fallacy prevents so much good from being done. Don’t be afraid. Be courageous to move forward and to act.”

Their marriage was hopeless, they told me. And now they were in the final stages of preparing for divorce.
They had received marriage counseling elsewhere. But it was of a purely secular nature, and their relationship was getting worse, not better. Instead of humbling themselves and changing their behavior, they had been focusing on trivial techniques—such as liking themselves better and becoming more self-assertive—which only further justified them in their destructive behavior.
These were good people. But they had become caught up in the behavior and attitudes of a competitive world—where forcing, criticizing, controlling, and commanding are often promoted as the way to gain influence. They were blaming one another for their problems and were trying to punish and intimidate each other into changing.
I was frank with them. I tried to help them see how self-righteous they were being and how accusing their hearts were. I explained that our problems as individuals and as couples are primarily spiritual—and that these problems begin when we fail to apply gospel principles. And I told them that since we have no direct control over the behavior of our partners, we need to focus on our own hearts.
After our first visit, this couple went to the temple together. In the celestial room, each quietly prayed that our Father in Heaven would reveal to them individually what they, themselves—not their partner—had been doing wrong. In his mercy, God opened the floodgates and gave them their answers. The revelation they received humbled them and softened their hearts. Since they hadn’t attended the temple for some time, even though they lived close by, they were amazed at how freely and clearly the answers came to them and how merciful our Heavenly Father really is.
Now they could start making progress. They began to shift their focus away from blaming each other and toward their own need for repentance. They began to see that striking back at each other is the world’s way—not the Lord’s. They recognized they had not read their scriptures or genuinely prayed on a regular basis—and now they could see that these were manifestations of pride.
Their hearts were broken over the fact that they were both so self-preoccupied and self-serving and that their conflicting self-interests were destroying any possibility for oneness. And they realized that their examples were adversely affecting their children.
It was thrilling to watch this couple humble themselves and find again the love they thought they had lost.

Resting on the stone steps of the ancient ruins of Dzibilchaltún in Mexico, Sandra Hernández and Meily Tolosa quietly consider the scattered ruins of a city nearly 1,500 years old. The silence around them is almost as heavy as the humid tropical air. But the peaceful moment doesn’t last long.
The silence shatters as Samuel Hernández comes hooting and hollering out of the thick jungle, which grows right up to the edge of the small pyramid. His friends Jorge Tolosa and Wilbert Agosta follow right behind him.
“Oh, I thought I was going to die,” he laughs as he throws himself down onto the steps and tries to catch his breath. Picking their way through the jungle, Samuel and his friends had been making their way toward a partially overgrown structure when they startled a flock of hidden birds. The birds weren’t the only ones startled. “Oh, my heart,” Samuel says, laughing.
Samuel, Meily, and other youth from the Canek Ward, Mérida México Centro Stake, are spending the day exploring some of Mexico’s ancient ruins. Dzibilchaltún is just one of the thousands of crumbling settlements left throughout the Americas by ancient inhabitants.
The land from central Mexico to Honduras (also called Mesoamerica) has been home to many thriving civilizations. On this trip to Dzibilchaltún, the youth are grateful that ruins of some of their ancestors’ cities have been preserved so they can explore where their ancestors lived. “It’s interesting to learn what my ancestors did and what happened to them,” says Jorge, a deacon.
In the same way, these youth are thankful that the record of the family of Lehi has been preserved so they can learn from its teachings and experiences. “I’m grateful the Lord preserved the Book of Mormon for us to learn from,” Jorge says.
Many Nephite prophets, such as Nephi, Enos, and Mormon, prayed that the Lord would preserve their testimonies of Jesus Christ to help their descendants (see 2 Ne. 25:21; Enos 1:16–18; W of M 1:8).
As He promised, the Lord preserved their records and brought them to light again through the Prophet Joseph Smith. Now the Book of Mormon is bringing the descendants of Book of Mormon peoples—and other people from all around the world—to Jesus Christ.
“I’m so grateful for the Book of Mormon,” says Carmen Hernández, a Mia Maid who hopes to thank the Book of Mormon prophets someday. “When I meet them,” she says, “I will say, ‘Thank you for helping so many people find answers and come to Christ.’” (See 2 Ne. 33:11; Jacob 6:13; Ether 12:38.)

Since I’ve been in school, I’ve had friends who haven’t understood the moral standards of our religion. At first it was difficult, but over time my friends have become used to the idea of my being morally clean. I made a goal in my life to be clean and pure, and it’s worked out well, both for me and for those who used to criticize me. Over time, respect, peace, and joy have become a part of our loving circle of friends.

Last year, the whole school was studying the nature of God and what He is like. Our teachers taught us that God the Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost are all one being without “passion or form” (feelings or a body). We knew that that was not correct, and we talked about it with our parents. When it came time for me to take the test on what we had learned that week in Bible class, one of the questions asked was, “Name the three parts of God.” Although I knew the answer they wanted me to give, I refused to write it because I knew that God was not made of three parts and that I should not give an answer I did not believe.
Later in the day, my teacher called me to her desk and asked why I had left the question blank. I told her that our church teaches that God the Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost are three distinct personages, that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ both have bodies, and that the Holy Ghost is a personage of Spirit. She said that she would give me full credit for my answer because I know what I believe, even though it differs from what the school teaches.

Jesus Christ was kind to everyone He met. He is a great example of kindness to me. One day when I was in first grade, I was the leader of the day in my class. Part of being a leader of the day was choosing someone to help me carry the lunch basket filled with lunch boxes to the cafeteria. I stood in front of the class and looked out at my classmates, trying to decide who to choose. All of my good friends were raising their hands, and at first I wanted to choose one of them. But then I noticed a boy standing in the back of the room. He didn’t have many friends, and sometimes people were not very nice to him. He never got chosen for anything. Something inside my heart told me to pick him. When I picked him to be my helper, everyone else acted surprised, but he got a big smile on his face. After lunch my teacher pulled me aside and whispered in my ear, “Thank you for picking him. That was a very kind thing to do.” All day I felt really good inside.

Whilst my wife and I were serving as leaders of the Fiji Suva Mission, we would monitor the storm weather sites from November through April to be aware of any cyclones that may affect our missionaries serving throughout the islands.
In early-April 2018, tropical Cyclone Keni developed into a category 2 cyclone which, on its projected course, would track several hundred kilometers south of the island of Kadavu. As we drew closer to the 11th of April 2018, instead of staying on its predicted course, Cyclone Keni veered northward and increased in intensity to category 3 with winds gusting up to 215 kms per hour, which tore through the island of Kadavu.
Elder Tupe and Elder Christensen served on that island, and I was extremely concerned about their welfare and that of the community of Saints there. With the power knocked out, communication was impossible for many hours. Finally, the elders were able to get a call out. The first thing I heard was, “President we’re okay.” Oh, what relief and joy filled my heart along with humble prayers of gratitude.
They shared that their accommodation was destroyed, and they had to shelter in one of only a few concrete block homes on the island, this one owned by Brother Lal (a counselor in the branch presidency). They had lost most of their belongings but had scoured the forest and reclaimed some clothing.
With their welfare in mind, I started the arrangements to evacuate these elders off the island. When I called the next morning to give them more details, Elder Tupe and Elder Christensen asked without any thought for their own needs, “President, can we stay? The members and families on the island need our help to rebuild their homes.”
As they expressed this desire, my heart swelled with admiration for these humble servants of the Lord who put their own needs aside to offer much-needed help to others.
Over the next two weeks they laboured tirelessly to clean debris from damaged dwellings and assisted with the repairs to several homes. These young missionaries exemplified the scripture: “Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matthew 25:40).
After these two weeks, Elder Tupe and Elder Christensen returned to Suva to be assigned to a different area, until the mission quarters on Kadavu could be rebuilt. As they entered the mission home, they looked different. Yes, their clothes were a little untidy, because no washing machine or iron was available, they had all disappeared in the cyclone, but their countenances shone brightly as they recalled numerous experiences of assisting members and nonmembers alike.
Their service brought a great feeling of unity to the people in Kadavu and prepared many hearts to receive the message of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. Indeed, these young missionaries exemplified this verse of scripture: “And behold, I tell you these things that ye may learn wisdom; that ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God” (Mosiah 2:17).
I will be forever grateful for the example of Elder Tupe and Elder Christensen. They exemplified so beautifully what it means to truly keep the second great commandment, to “Love thy neighbor as thyself,” (Matthew 22:39).

It was a Christmas when my three older sisters were 12, 10, and 7 just after my father, a young engineer, had accepted a transfer from Schenectady, New York, to Los Angeles, California. On Christmas Eve, my mother made preparations for the traditional Christmas dinner the next afternoon. My sisters took turns trying to keep me and my three-year-old brother from playing baseball with the shining Christmas tree ornaments. Mother found time to tend our new baby sister.
Amid the bustle of the Christmas Eve excitement, my father was preoccupied. His thoughts kept returning to the used bicycle hidden carefully in the garage rafters. Next to it lay the boxes holding two brand-new, shining black, matching three-speed bikes which he had purchased for my two older sisters. The budget strains of Christmas had prevented Dad from buying a third black three-speed for Leanne. Instead, he set about restoring the old single-speed, fat-tired bike the older two no longer rode. Scouring pads and elbow grease made the rusty spokes shine. The inner tubes were patched, and a new coat of paint erased the battle scars of collisions and neglect. A replacement set of handgrips made the handlebars look almost new.
My father realized Leanne would probably recognize the old war horse, but he was sure she could be happy just having her own bike. And in a year or two, when she outgrew this one, he would be able to buy her a brand-new one. Leanne had already received a big share of hand-me-downs from her older sisters. Many of her clothes, toys, and books had been previously used.
This Christmas Eve, as my mother tucked all of us in bed, Dad commenced his marathon toy and bicycle assembly projects. When he finished the new, black bicycles, he placed them side by side near the Christmas tree. He then carefully rolled out and placed the rejuvenated old bike next to the new ones. The stark contrast of the old half-sized, blue, thick-tubed bike against the sleek, black beauties made the revamped two-wheeler suddenly look small and old-fashioned. Dad reconsidered. Had he made a mistake in trying to redo the old bike for Leanne? Would she feel slighted? Leanne was too young to understand the economics of family finances, but she would be quick to spot this injustice perpetrated by Santa Claus: new bikes for her sisters, the old war horse for her.
A gradual panic swept over Dad as he realized he’d slipped up. Better run to the store and buy a matching bike, quick! But on Christmas Eve? It was already 11:30 P.M., and the stores would probably be closed. A few hurried telephone calls confirmed the worst. Everything was closed.
My grandmother, who was visiting for the holidays, tried to comfort Dad. “Don’t worry, Ray. She’ll love the bike. You’ve made it look just like new.”
Dad was not comforted. He kept imagining the disappointed look on Leanne’s face as she recognized the old hand-me-down. Though it was very late when he finished the last stocking and exhausted as he was from his assembly projects, Dad did not sleep well that night.
Early Christmas morning, we were poised in our annual positions in the hall—all in a row, youngest to the oldest. It was still dark outside, but we were already hopping with that special excitement of children on Christmas morning. Dad was in the living room making the movie camera and lights ready to record our grand entrance. Finally he yelled, “Okay, come on in,” and we blazed through the doorway like a shot. In a matter of minutes, the beautiful array of packages and ornaments was transformed into a mountain of strewn boxes, wrappings, and ribbons. My older sisters spotted their black beauties, gave them the once over with due praise and admiration, and moved on to the Christmas tree to locate more presents. Amid the chaos and clutter, Leanne stood firmly next to the old blue bike. She was touching every part and talking aloud, “Look, it has new grips and new paint! A brand-new seat! Just look at those pedals, and it’s my very own, my very own bike.”
Leanne didn’t seem to notice there were other presents for her under the tree. She stayed near the bike and repeated the same speech several times, though no one was listening, no one, that is, except my father. He stood silently on the other side of the room, oblivious to the rest of the children, the movie camera held low at his side, listening to Leanne. Tears of joy streamed down his face as he witnessed this perfect acceptance of his imperfect gift.
It has been a long time since the black beauties were worn out and discarded. Even the old war horse was sent to the glue factory years ago. But the image of my father’s tear-streaked face on Christmas Day reminds me still of the warmth of a Christmas gift well given and well received.

Here's an example of some 'saints' not of our faith. A few years ago there was an unusual high school football game played in Grapevine, Texas (close to our mission).The game was between Grapevine Faith Academy, a Christian school and Gainesville State School which was located within a maximum security correction facility: a prison. (You have to understand that high school football in Texas is a religion. They put a football in the crib of each boy so he can get the feel of leather.)

The Gainesville State School of Correction had 14 players who played every game -- on the road (obviously).Their record was 0-8.They had only scored twice. Their 14 players were teenagers who had been convicted of crimes ranging from drugs to assault to robbery. Most had families who had disowned them. wore outdated, used shoulder pads and helmets. On the other side, Faith Academy's record was 7-2.They had 70 players, 11 coaches, and the latest equipment.

Chris Hogan, the head coach at Faith Academy, knew the Gainesville team would have no fans, and it would be no contest. He thought, "What if half of our fans and half of our cheerleaders, for one night only, cheered for the other team?" He sent out an email to faithful fans asking them to do just that. "Here's the message I want you to send to these young men," Hogan wrote. "You're just as valuable as any other person on the planet."

Some folks were confused about the coach's efforts. One player said, "Coach, why are we doing this?" The coach said, "Imagine you don't have a home life, no one to love you, no one pulling for you. Imagine that everyone pretty much had given up on you. Now, imagine what it would feel like and mean to you for hundreds of people to suddenly believe in you."

The idea took root. On the night of the game, imagine the surprise of those 14 players from the prison when they took the field and there was a banner the cheerleaders made for them to crash through. The visitors' stands had people sitting in them. The cheerleaders were leading cheers for them. The fans were calling them by their names. Isaiah, the quarterback: also played middle linebacker said, "I never in my life thought I would hear parents cheering me to tackle and hit their kid. Most of the time, when we come out, people are afraid of us. You can see it in their eyes, but these people were yelling for us. They knew our names."

There are some things that form a common bond between Santosh and other teenagers all over the world. One of those things is the gospel. Santosh was introduced to the gospel via his uncle, Dr. Edwin Dharma Raju, who joined the Church in Samoa when he was on assignment from the government of India.

When Dr. Raju returned to India, he wanted his family to hear the gospel message, and he wrote to Church headquarters for missionaries to be sent to his family. Instead, Dr. Raju and his wife went on a short-term mission to teach the family themselves.

Santosh was eight years old when he and several family members accepted the gospel. The water tank on the roof of his Uncle Henry’s building was scrubbed and painted to serve as a baptismal font. The men and boys who attended the baptism were dressed in traditional white, loose-fitting Indian jackets and trousers. The women were dressed in white saris, the standard dress of Indian women, consisting of a long piece of cloth draped over the shoulder and wrapped around the body. The newly baptized family was to form the nucleus of the branch in Hyderabad.

Santosh is now a teacher in that branch. He and his brother Sanjay, 12, and sister Sunitha, 16, are the only youth there, but they take a very active part. Santosh arrives at the mission home, where church services are held, a half hour early each Sunday to prepare the sacrament. He is always ready to give a talk or teach a lesson to any age group. Sunitha is the branch chorister and teaches a Primary class, and Sanjay takes on various assignments and is often the first one to bear his testimony on fast Sunday.

Santosh is also preparing for a mission. “I have thought a lot about a mission,” he says. “I used to dream of going to a very remote island or a place where I could convert and baptize everyone. Now that they are calling Indian youth to serve in India, I would like to serve a mission here.”

His dreams also include medical school, which is extremely difficult to get into in his country. Of the 50,000 students who take examinations each year to apply, only 2,000 will be accepted. Only those with the highest grades can enter medical school.

Santosh, like many Indian children, has been going to school since he was three. He will graduate from “college,” the equivalent of American high school, at 17. In the meantime, he carries a stiff academic load.

His day starts before 6 A.M., when he hurries off for an hour session with a tutor. Since his classes at the private Christian school contain anywhere from 40–70 students, the time he spends with his tutor and four or five other students is essential.

He then comes home, prepares for school, reads the paper, and hops on the school bus. Once there, he attends eight classes, among them math, physics, biology, and three different language classes.

Santosh is in the 10th class, where it is crucial to be at the top. He has even had to give up most of the sports he likes so well, like cricket and badminton, in order to excel. He has to take major tests every month and exams every three months to determine his position in college.

After school, Santosh does homework and a little recreational reading until it’s time for the evening meal at 8:00 P.M. Then at 9:00 he’s off for another hour and a half with the tutor.

Although school takes up a major portion of his day, he still finds time for the Church and for scripture study. “I have a very strong testimony,” he says. “I thank my Heavenly Father for it. I know that the Book of Mormon, the Holy Bible, the Doctrine and Covenants, and Pearl of Great Price are companion scriptures and the word of God.”

That knowledge, plus the support of his family, are enough to sustain him in his minority status. “I hope I will have the strength to resist the temptations,” he says. “I love this church, and don’t ever want to go away from it.”

This first inspiring story is about Mahatma Gandhi, whose approach to leadership was based on the belief that every individual has the potential to be a leader, and that true leadership comes from serving others. He believed that leaders should be humble, compassionate, and willing to sacrifice their own interests for the good of others.

One experience of Gandhi’s effective leadership was his Salt March in 1930.[8] The British had imposed a tax on salt, which had a devastating impact on the poor in India. Gandhi decided to lead a peaceful protest against the tax by walking 240 miles—which is the distance from Rexburg to Salt Lake City—from his religious retreat to the sea, where he and his followers would collect salt from the beach.

The Salt March became a powerful symbol of resistance against colonial rule and inspired millions of people around the world to join the fight for India’s independence. Gandhi’s leadership during the Salt March was characterized by his courageous commitment to nonviolence, his willingness to take personal risks, and his ability to inspire and mobilize others to join him in the struggle for justice. Gandhi’s legacy as an effective leader continues to inspire people today, reminding us of the power of leadership that is grounded in service, humility, and commitment.

What of marriage responsibility? Are there some who delay marriage for fear of the responsibility? When my wife and I were married, we had the magnificent sum of twenty English pounds between us. Although young, we felt ready for the challenges and responsibilities that we knew lay ahead. What a glorious experience it has been for almost forty years now to shoulder responsibility and struggle together in building a happy home and a wonderful family of ten precious children.