Gospel Story Finder

My sister Melanie was supposed to be baby-sitting Cami and me while Mom and Dad were attending a funeral. Before they left, Melanie said that she would help us make a batch of chocolate chip cookies. Then, as soon as Mom and Dad had gone, she turned on the stereo and the TV, snatched a bag of chips, dropped onto the sofa, grabbed the phone, and called her friend Kendra.
Cami and I sat around the kitchen table, waiting for Melanie to come help us with the cookies. But every time Cami or I asked her when she was going to help us, she waved us away and hissed, “Just a minute! Quit bugging me! I have to tell Kendra one more thing.”
“Let’s forget the cookies,” I finally sighed, “and go down by the creek and find something to do.”
“What’s there to do down there?” Cami mumbled disappointedly. “The creek’s not deep enough to swim in.”
“We can wade in it, or maybe we can fish,” I suggested.
“There aren’t any fish in the creek, just a few old frogs.”
“Oh, well,” I sighed. “Let’s just sit here and wait for Melanie.”
Cami glanced in at Melanie and wrinkled her nose. Finally she muttered, “Catching frogs has to be better than listening to Melanie gab.”
“Then let’s go!”
Cami and I jumped up, ran out the door, cut down the dirt lane under the elm trees, and waded through Dad’s alfalfa field to the creek. I was just ready to kick off my shoes, when Cami screamed, jumped back, and scrambled up the bank.
“What’s the matter?”
Cami was on the bank with her mouth and eyes wide open. She was pointing down toward the creek. “A snake!” she blurted out.
I looked around, and sure enough, right by the edge of the creek, lying on a big flat rock, was the biggest, yellow-striped snake I’d ever seen. “Wow!” I gasped, kneeling down beside the snake. “Isn’t he neat?” I reached down and grabbed the snake behind the head and picked it up.
“Krista!” Cami screamed. “Put that awful thing down.”
I held the snake up, and it wrapped its thick body around my arm. Its black, forked tongue flashed out of its mouth. I giggled and charged up the bank toward Cami. She backed up and screamed, “Krista, don’t you dare come near me with that awful thing!”
“It’s just an old water snake. He won’t hurt you. Dad said that there aren’t any dangerous snakes around here. I think that snakes are kind of fun. They wrap around your arm and stick their tongue out at you.” I held my arm up so that Cami could see the snake better.
Cami frowned. “Girls don’t play with snakes.”
“I’m a girl, and I play with snakes.” I grinned. “I’d rather play with snakes than listen to Melanie gab on the phone or hear her old screaming music.” I laughed. “He won’t hurt you,” I repeated. “Touch him.” I held the snake toward her.
Slowly Cami reached a shaky finger out and touched the snake’s cool body. She jumped back, but a grin pulled at her mouth. “It’s creepy,” she whispered, touching the snake again. Soon she was stroking it softly with her finger.
“Do you want to hold him?”
Cami didn’t say yes, but she didn’t say no either.
“Just grab him behind the head,” I coached.
Soon Cami had the snake wrapped around her arm, while she stroked it with her free hand. She giggled. “He feels weird,” she said. “We ought to name him something.”
“How about Joe?”
“Snakes aren’t Joes.”
“Jack?”
Cami shook her head.
“Jake?” I suggested next.
Cami smiled. “Yeah. We’ll call him Jake. Jake the Snake.”
“What’re we going to do with him?” I asked.
Cami said, “He’s too big for a bottle, and he couldn’t look out through a can. Since he’s a water snake, let’s put him in the bathtub.”
I hesitated. “I don’t know if Mom will like Jake bathing in our tub.”
But Cami wasn’t listening to me. She had already started for the house with Jake. I shrugged and followed her.
When we went into the house with Jake, Melanie was lying on the floor with her feet propped up on the sofa and her hand in the chips. She didn’t even know we’d been gone. We went right to the bathroom and put Jake into the tub.
“How much water shall we put in the tub?” Cami asked.
“Let’s fill it clear up,” I said, turning on the tap. “Jake’s pretty big, and he’s going to have all the water that he wants.”
“This’s better than that old creek any day. This is clean water, and it’s nice and cool in here.”
“You know what,” I said. “Jake looks lonely.”
“Yeah, he needs a friend,” Cami agreed.
“There are lots more snakes where Jake came from, I’ll bet,” I said.
Leaving Jake in the tub, Cami and I headed back to the creek. This time we had one of Mom’s plastic mop buckets so that we could bring a friend or two for Jake.
We soon discovered lots of snakes sunning themselves on the rocks. There were yellow-striped ones and red-striped ones. At first Cami made me do the grabbing. Then she saw a tiny one. I already had one in each hand, so Cami, not wanting the little one to get away, set the bucket down and grabbed it herself.
“How many do we have?” Cami asked later, looking at the tangled mass of squirming bodies in the bottom of the bucket. “It looks like a million of them.”
“We can count them as we put them into the tub with Jake,” I suggested.
Once more we headed for the house. The music was still going, and Melanie was still laughing and talking. We hurried to the bathroom and set the bucket down.
“Jake’s gone!” Cami gasped, looking into the tub.
“I guess we put too much water in. He must have crawled right out.” I peeked out at Melanie. “We’ve got to find him fast!”
We looked behind the clothes hamper and under the sink, but we couldn’t see Jake anywhere. We went out into the hall and started looking under the chairs and behind the furniture.
“What are you guys doing?” Melanie scolded, covering the phone with her hand and glaring at us. “You’re not into anything, are you?” When we shook our heads, she grumbled, “Well, don’t. I’m almost through here, and then I’ll be out to help you with the cookies.”
“We lost Jake,” Cami announced.
“Jake?” Melanie asked, still scowling. “Who’s Jake?”
I swallowed hard. “He’s our friend.”
“Krista, you know you aren’t supposed to have friends over while Mom and Dad are gone. You tell him to leave right now.”
“We can’t,” Cami explained. “We can’t find him. Have you seen him?”
Melanie shook her head. “Maybe he already went home. You two just run into the kitchen. I’ll be there in a second.”
“But what about Jake?” I protested.
“Forget about Jake. He found his way here. He can find his way home.”
Cami and I shrugged and went to the kitchen and sat down. We didn’t sit there long, though. Not two minutes later we heard a shriek. We jumped up and rushed into the living room.
Melanie was standing on the sofa, screaming and shaking. On the floor near where Melanie had been lying was Jake the Snake. He was curled up into a little stack and was being as peaceful as could be.
“Jake!” Cami squealed happily. “Thanks, Melanie. You found him for us.”
“Jake?” Melanie screeched. “That’s Jake?”
“Sure,” Cami said, scooping Jake up and holding him out to Melanie. “He’s cute, isn’t he? Do you want to hold him?”
“Get that awful, horrible thing away from me,” Melanie cried. She backed into the arm of the sofa, lost her balance, and fell. As soon as she hit the floor, she scrambled to her feet and ran as fast as she could to the bathroom. She slammed the door behind her, and we heard the lock snap into place.
“Are you OK, Melanie?” I asked.
“Krista,” Melanie howled from behind the door, “you get that awful thing out of this house!”
“But Jake’s our friend,” Cami protested before I could even open my mouth.
“Krista, I’m warning—”
Before Melanie could finish what she was saying, we heard her bump into Mom’s plastic mop bucket. Then there was another scream, more horrible than the others. We heard Melanie jerk on the door, forgetting that it was locked. Finally the door flew open, and Melanie came charging out of the bathroom, still screaming.
Cami was right by the door with Jake, and Melanie ran into her. Both Melanie and Cami fell down, and Jake got knocked right into Melanie’s lap. Melanie just sat there shaking and watching Jake crawl on her and stick his black tongue in and out.
Suddenly Cami sang out, “Look! Jake’s friends are getting away!”
Melanie had knocked the bucket over, and all our snakes were slithering out of the bathroom. Well, I had picked Jake up by then, but when I saw all the other snakes getting away, I handed Jake to Melanie, and Cami and I went after the other snakes. Pretty soon our hands were full of snakes, and we were putting them into the bucket as fast as we could. Melanie wasn’t much help, though. She didn’t even keep Jake for us. She dropped him on the floor.
“Well, that looks like all of them,” I said when I finally found Jake behind the magazine rack.
“You mean you’re not sure?” Melanie gasped. Her face was white, and she was standing on a chair, still shaking. “Do you mean that there might be more creeping around?”
I shrugged. “There could be. We didn’t have time to count them before.”
“Don’t you have anything better to do than go around catching awful creatures like that?”
“You didn’t help us make cookies,” Cami said, “and we had to do something.”
“I’ll help you make cookies right now!” Melanie cried. “Just get those things out of here. And don’t ever bring them back.”
Cami picked up the bucket, and we started for the door. “We want chocolate chip cookies,” I called over my shoulder.
“Anything! Now, get out of here with those snakes.”
Just then the phone rang. I answered it because Melanie wouldn’t get off the chair until we took Jake and his friends outside.
“It’s Kendra,” I said, holding the phone out to Melanie. She looked at the phone, then at the bucket of snakes, then at Cami and me. She jumped down from the chair, went into the kitchen, and said, “Tell her I’m busy making chocolate chip cookies.”
I grinned at Cami, Cami grinned at me, and we both grinned at Jake and his friends as we headed for the creek.

I was asked to give a talk in sacrament meeting about the importance of the standard works in my life. I was happy to accept the assignment, even though I’m a bit shy and I get nervous in front of people. I was grateful to speak on this topic because I have a strong testimony of the scriptures.
For a long time I have studied the scriptures every day, just as our prophets have asked us to do. When I do this, I feel great joy. I know that what I read in the standard works is the word of God.
I also keep a personal journal. The missionaries taught me to do this, and I consider it to be a valuable work as well. Each day I record my experiences and any progress I have made. In accepting the assignment to speak, I felt comfortable knowing I might find something in my journal to use in my talk.
Because I was so nervous, I worked hard all week, preparing the talk and praying for guidance. I wanted my words to touch the hearts of my brothers and sisters.
Finally Sunday arrived. I shook a little as I went to the pulpit. As I spoke, I noticed the members were listening intently. I had never felt so calm or spoken with such ease. A beautiful spirit filled me, almost like a burning (see D&C 9:8). Giving my talk was a wonderful experience. I knew Heavenly Father had blessed me with His Spirit.
As I thought about the experience afterward, I realized I may have been blessed with the Spirit because I had prepared my talk so diligently and had sought the Lord’s guidance. Because I was prepared, there was no need to fear (see D&C 38:30).
I also realized that if we prepare confidently for something that seems to be as small as a talk, we can also prepare for greater things, secure in the knowledge that the Lord will sustain us.

To you deacons, may I say that I recall the time when I was ordained a deacon. Our bishopric stressed the sacred responsibility which was ours to pass the sacrament. Emphasized were proper dress, a dignified bearing, and the importance of being clean inside and out. As we were taught the procedure in passing the sacrament, we were told how we should assist Louis McDonald, a particular brother in our ward who was afflicted with a palsied condition, that he might have the opportunity to partake of the sacred emblems.
How I remember being assigned to pass the sacrament to the row where Brother McDonald sat. I was fearful and hesitant as I approached this wonderful brother, and then I saw his smile and the eager expression of gratitude that showed his desire to partake. Holding the tray in my left hand, I took a small piece of bread and pressed it to his lips. The water was later served in the same way. I felt I was on holy ground. And indeed I was. The privilege to pass the sacrament to Brother McDonald made better deacons of us all.

Just a few weeks ago, I was working on my family history with a consultant by my side and another helper on the phone. On the computer screen before me was a problem beyond my mortal power to solve. I saw two names, sent to me by the wonders of technology, of people who might be waiting for a temple ordinance. But the trouble was that the names were different, but there was a reason to believe they might be the same person. My task was to determine what was true.
I asked my consultants to tell me. They said, “No, you must choose.” And they were completely sure I would discover the truth. The computer, with all its power and information, had left me the blessing of staring at those names on a screen, evaluating the available information, seeking other research, praying silently, and discovering what was true. As I prayed, I knew with surety what to do—just as I have in other situations when I needed to rely on heaven’s help to solve a problem.

On July 12, 2004, I awoke at about 5:20 a.m. and took my regular peek out the window. The guard at our compound gate was very much awake. A lady was shaking her fingers in his face, and another 25 women were standing against the fence, each carrying one or more empty buckets or basins. I quickly got dressed and went out.
The water had been shut off the day before in Tema—a city of 100,000—and for miles around. No one had had water for about 24 hours, and panic was beginning to brew. We hadn’t noticed the problem because the Ghana Missionary Training Center, where I was serving as MTC president, has a large storage tank, and we pumped from that storage whenever we needed water. Even though no fresh water was being added, we were living off our storage.
Also, for some reason, there was still some water in our meetinghouse’s outdoor tap (in the same guarded compound), and someone had alerted the masses that the Mormons had water. They were coming from all over with their pails to fetch it. The custodian had beaten me to the meetinghouse and was opposed to letting anyone in. He was sure it was only a matter of a very short time before we would also be without water.
I summoned the guard and the custodian. I asked the custodian what the Savior would do. I asked him to ponder the good or the bad will that our decision would generate. I told him that the water might very well run out in our tap, but it would be better if it ran out with a neighbor’s bucket catching the last drop. He agreed, and we opened the gate and tried to create order among the ever-increasing crowd of people who were running to get in. We begged them to limit their take to “one person, one bucket.” It was now about 6:15. The line was long and the water pressure low, but the tap kept producing.
We believed the water would stop. Nowhere else in town was anyone getting water. We had everyone join us in prayer and ask Heavenly Father to let this one tap continue producing water for these very thirsty people. The tap never stopped. And the people were so grateful.
At about 3:00 p.m. that afternoon, the water in the city was restored, and those in line took their empty buckets and ran home. But the good feelings still linger.

For Anabel R., 18, the toughest challenges have come from teachers and peers at school. She says, “I was the only member of the Church in my class. I had a teacher who would teach something about religion, and then say, ‘Let’s ask Anabel what she thinks about this,’ trying to make me look bad in front of my friends. And whenever I would say something, she would say, ‘You’re just getting confused.’ Once when the teacher tried to make me look bad in front of the other kids, they laughed at me.

“Later, when my classmates saw me out with the missionaries in the street, dressed like them, they said, ‘Here comes the Saint. She believes in Mormon; she’s the Mormon.’ Many times they would do things to offend me.”

Anabel found it hard to be so mistreated by her classmates. But she also found that as she responded with forgiveness—the way the Lord taught—she found peace.

“The Lord commanded us, ‘of you it is required to forgive all men’” (Doctrine and Covenants 64:10.) “He wants us to love others. He taught me not to be angry at them for treating me that way.

“The truth is, many times we hold onto resentment in our hearts. But I’ve realized that when we decide not to forgive someone, we are not happy. The Savior Jesus Christ suffered many things and even as the Son of God said to forgive them because they don’t know what they do. Truthfully, I don’t resent them because they really don’t know what they are doing, just like the Savior said. And as I’ve turned to Heavenly Father in prayer, He answers. He is listening.”

“I want to give Mom something special for Mother’s Day, Josh.” Ten-year-old Sarah, perched on the porch swing, glanced up at her older brother. “You always do.”
Josh sat down on the swing next to his sister and said, “Your gifts are fine. Mine are different because I have a job and can afford to buy her a present. But that doesn’t make them any better than the ones you make for her. You know how much she likes them.”
Josh is right, Sarah thought. Mom does enjoy the crafts I gave her. Still, the jewelry box she’d made this year with Popsicle sticks wasn’t the same as the beautiful rose-colored vase Josh had bought for Mom. That’s why Sarah had decided to do something else, as well as give her the handmade gift.
“Can you keep a secret?” She glanced across the backyard. Other than their three-year-old brother, Nicholas, who was making a roadway in the sandbox, the yard was still.
Josh bent closer to Sarah. “What is it?”
“I’m singing in sacrament meeting tomorrow,” Sarah whispered.
“Doesn’t the Primary always sing in sacrament meeting on Mother’s Day?”
“This is different.” Sarah whispered again. “I’m singing a duet with Lucy Hernandez.”
“A duet with Lucy?” Josh was impressed. “She’s practically a professional!”
“Sister Fields—she’s our new Primary chorister—asked for volunteers last month. I thought it would be something I could do for Mom. Just from me.”
“She’ll love it, Sarah,” Josh said with a warm smile.
“Thanks. I’ve been practicing in my room every chance I get, when Mom’s not around to hear me. And I’ve been helping Nick too.”
“You mean Nick’s going to sing with the Primary?” Josh stared at Sarah. “He won’t even sit through Sharing Time without Mom next to him. How did you talk Mr. Shy Guy into singing?”
“I gave him some extra help with the songs. He’s a fast learner.”
“He has a good teacher, Sarah.”
The next morning Sarah made her announcement as they parked in the church lot. “I’ll be singing with Lucy,” she was saying as she unbuckled her seat belt. “All the Primary classes will sing the first two songs together. For the last song, ‘Families Can Be Together Forever,’ Lucy and I will sing the second verse. Just the two of us.”
“Sarah, that’s wonderful,” Mom said, swinging the car door open. “What a special Mother’s Day this will be!”
Sitting in sacrament meeting, Sarah squirmed a bit as the speakers told about their mothers. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t concentrate.
Finally Sister Fields stepped to the front of the chapel, signaling the children to come forward.
Sarah guided Nicholas to the front row, placing him between two older children. “You’ll do great, Nick,” she whispered. Weaving through several other Primary children, she found her way next to Lucy, who was adjusting the microphone.
Sarah’s heart hammered with excitement as the pianist played the introductory notes for the first song. She was very pleased with how clear her voice sounded as they sang the first song.
As they began the second song, Sarah thought she heard soft crying. She glanced around the large group of children. It looked like everyone was singing. Then she saw Nicholas. He was sitting in a seat usually reserved for speakers, mostly hidden from her behind standing classmates. Tears dripped down his face as he stared at the floor.
As the pianist played the prelude music for “Families Can Be Together Forever,” Sarah edged over to him and dropped to her knees. “What’s the matter, Nick?”
“I want Mommy.”
“Why don’t you sing this song first,” Sarah asked, “then I’ll take you to Mom.”
Nicholas shook his head vigorously while the other Primary children loudly sang, “I have a family here on earth. They are so good to me.”
“Listen, Nick, I’ll take you to Mom as soon as we’re through with this song.”
Nicholas’ chin creased and quivered as he shook his head a second time. He grabbed Sarah’s hand and begged, “Don’t go.”
As the other children sang, “Families can be together forever Through Heavenly Father’s plan,” Sarah looked up at Lucy Hernandez, singing confidently but obviously looking for Sarah.
“I always want to be with my own family,” the Primary choir sang on.
“Please stay here, Sarah,” Nicholas was pleading just as Sarah’s eyes met Lucy’s.
As the other children finished the first verse—“And the Lord has shown me how I can. The Lord has shown me how I can”—Sarah motioned to Lucy with her hand, signaling her to sing alone. Lucy turned, nodding first at Sarah, then to Sister Fields.
Still on her knees, her arm around Nicholas, Sarah quietly listened to Lucy’s clear, beautiful voice. “While I am in my early years, I’ll prepare most carefully.”
Nicholas’s tears subsided, but he continued to cling to his sister while Lucy finished the song: “The Lord has shown me how I can.”
Sarah led Nicholas to where their mother and Josh were sitting and slid into the pew herself so that Brother Pazooki could give the closing prayer. Afterward, still fighting tears, she was surprised to see that her mother’s eyes were also teary. She was even more surprised when her Mother told her, “I’m so proud of you, Sarah!”
“But I didn’t get to sing the duet for you.”
“I know. But when I couldn’t see Nick, I could guess what happened—he needed you with him, didn’t he?”
Sarah nodded, still puzzled.
“You’ve made this a very special Mother’s Day,” Mom continued. “Would you sing that song for me at home? You see, you really lived the words of that song, and I can’t think of a better Mother’s Day present you could give me.”

Troy Swartzle, a priest in the New Bern Ward, Kinston North Carolina Stake, was selected to attend Governor’s School of North Carolina. Troy was selected because of his outstanding abilities in instrumental music. He plays french horn.
Troy was one of two from his high school and five from the county school system selected to go to the school. During his stay, he met Church members from throughout the state and was able to invite some interested friends to accompany him to Church activities. He was also able to correct misconceptions about the Church during his philosophy class.

One day, Sister Escobar and Sister Flake followed a prompting of the Spirit and found themselves led to a pink house. José Luis, a blind man, answered the door and invited them into his home to share a scripture message. The sisters learned that his wife, Rosa, was not feeling well and was resting in another room.
When the missionaries taught José Luis about the Book of Mormon, Jesus Christ and His mission on the earth, he was eager to learn. He was so enthusiastic about what they taught that he asked for a copy of the Book of Mormon right away. He said he would have his sister read it to him or find a way to have a recorded version made.
The sisters told him when the church meeting was held on Sunday, and José was excited to come. He said he would be there the next Sunday and would bring his wife.
That Sunday, the missionaries were sitting in class when they felt impressed to leave the room. As they went out, they heard the shouts of José Luis and Rosa outside the building, struggling to find the church entrance. Rushing to help them, they realized that Rosa was also blind, and their hearts were touched by the couple’s vulnerability. It was obvious that the pair was relieved when Sister Escobar and Sister Flake found them. Everyone was grateful for the tender mercy that led the sisters to leave the class when they did. The ward members embraced José Luis and Rosa into their fold and were amazed that they would come on their own to church, despite their disabilities.
Visiting José Luis and Rosa at their home reveals another layer of their resilience. Despite their visual impairment, the couple manages daily tasks independently and even cooked a traditional Dominican meal for the missionaries. They were amazed to learn that Rosa’s illness makes it hard for her to stand for long periods of time, but she still manages to get things done.
As the sister missionaries continued to teach José Luis and Rosa, they saw the extraordinary ability of the couple to absorb and retain information. They understood everything and had it memorized after hearing it just once. They quickly grasped concepts such as the Restoration of the gospel and the Word of Wisdom. Their commitment was evident when the missionaries told them they would have to give up coffee as part of obedience to the Word of Wisdom, and they obeyed without hesitation.
The words of the Book of Mormon brought them obvious joy, and on June 28, 2023, José Luis and Rosa were invited to be baptized and enthusiastically accepted. They had received an answer to prayer that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the true church of God on the earth and wanted to be part of it. José Luis and Rosa’s commitment and faith were unwavering, and their faith brought the Spirit to each meeting with the missionaries.
During the month before their baptism, the members came together to help the blind couple get to church every week. Their baptism on July 29, 2023, was attended by many members and acquaintances who showed their love on that special day. Encircled with this love, José Luis and Rosa expressed gratitude to a kind Heavenly Father for the opportunity to be spiritually born again. They were confirmed the next day in church and received the gift of the Holy Ghost. Now they never miss a Sunday meeting.
José Luis and Rosa are examples for everyone. The couple says if it weren’t for their loss of sight, they wouldn’t have learned as much. Their example of joy in adversity has helped other members to better understand what James meant when he said, “My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations [trials];
“Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience.
“But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing” (James 1:2–4).
José Luis and Rosa’s faith to follow and make a covenant with God changed their lives. Now they are preparing to enter the temple. They share the gospel and their testimonies with those they meet.
Sister Escobar and Sister Flake say, “We are very grateful to our Heavenly Father for the opportunity to share the gospel of Jesus Christ with these wonderful people. This experience changed our lives. We better understand what Jesus Christ meant when He taught, ‘blessed are all the pure in heart, for they shall see God’” (3 Nephi 12:8).

No long ago, after 42 years as members of the Church, we finally tracked down one of those tenacious missionaries who brought us the gospel. Reed Harris was then serving as a mission president in Chile. We shared a very emotional phone call. We wept as we talked of our families and our lives in the gospel. We thanked him for what the gospel has given us—a healthy lifestyle, love from our Heavenly Father, and a life full of blessings.

The company I was working for closed. I moved to Mexico City, and because I liked to work, I applied for a temporary job with an international editorial company. They wanted me to take an inventory, which was something of a specialty with me. I did the inventory in two weeks. They offered me a permanent job at good pay, and I accepted.
I didn’t speak English at that time. Our director, a man from Texas who didn’t speak any Spanish, said to my boss, “This boy is doing good work. If he knew English, we would pay more. We would send him to New York for training, and he could eventually be a manager here.”
When my boss told me that, I asked, “All I have to do is learn English?”
I was married by then. My wife spoke English because she was born in the Church colonies in Mexico. The first time I tried to speak a few words in English, someone told me not to try. It was not my gift.
Now I was motivated by the thoughts of improving my job position and having opportunities such as traveling to New York. I went to a language school and told them I wanted to learn to speak English as soon as I could.
They asked, “How much do you know?”
I said, “Not a word. Not even ‘Good morning.’”
They said, “We have an intensive course: two weeks, 16 hours a day. Eight hours here with teachers and eight hours in your home with tapes. It costs $1,000.”
I said, “I can do that. I will ask for my vacation, and I can study 16 hours a day for two weeks.”
I went to my boss and said, “I’m going to learn English in two weeks, and you have to pay only $1,000.” He laughed and said, “It is not possible. I learned in two years.”
I told my boss, “Ask the director to give me two weeks’ vacation and pay for the course. If after these two weeks I cannot talk to him in English, then you can take the fee out of my salary.”
He gave permission.
I went to the school. Every 45 minutes for eight hours, they changed teachers. They drilled and drilled the vocabulary, sentences, and conversations.
After eight hours in school, I went into the streets looking for English-speaking tourists to talk to. Then I listened to eight more hours of tapes.
The main reason I went to school was not to learn English. I really wanted to be a manager and go to New York City. Because I was highly motivated, learning English wasn’t hard for me. I enjoyed every second of it.
When I finished the 224 hours of study, I could communicate somewhat in English. I knew that the test was communicating with my director. If I couldn’t, I would have to pay back the $1,000. So I made up a plan. I would talk to him about all that I had learned. When I entered his office, I talked and talked for 20 minutes without letting him say a word. He said, “That’s enough. Send him to New York.” And I went to New York!

Just this past month, a mammoth 747 jetliner, while flying over the Pacific, sustained a gigantic tear in its side, ejecting nine passengers to their deaths and threatening the lives of all. When the pilot, Captain David Cronin, was interviewed, having brought the craft back safely to Honolulu, he was asked, “What did you do when the plane ripped open? How did you cope?”

Captain Cronin replied, “I prayed, then went to work.”

If good fences make good neighbors, these young men and women are the best neighbors in the world, because their back fence is the Niagara River and Niagara Falls. A group of young Latter-day Saints from Niagara Falls, New York, and Hamilton, Ontario, got together recently on the Canadian side of the falls to enjoy one of the most awesome borders in the world.
Their first, and most important, order of business was just looking. That may be a lazy sort of activity in some places, but here it taxes the imagination to its very limits. People often go away from the falls feeling they have not seen everything there is to see. Not, as with the circus, because there are so many different things going on, but because the one thing going on is too overwhelming for the mind to absorb it.
But what can be seen is worth seeing. The falls, rainbow-spanned, plunge into a deep stone gorge through which the river runs on between high banks, heading north toward Lake Ontario. Far below, mist-shrouded tourist boats butt against the current, and tiny people in yellow slickers walk along shimmering wet paths.
Above the falls, the river sweeps down in a broad turn of shallow rapids, forking around green islands. The Canadian falls curve away in a great turquoise and white arc, and on the other side of the river the American falls cascade down onto broken slabs of stone. The viewer feels himself drawn over the abyss with an overwhelming sense of power. The falls pull with a weight of gravity equal to the whole massive world, reeling the water and the imagination irresistibly downward. You can’t help thinking with a delicious shudder, “What if I were in a boat and …”
And yet, even as millions of gallons of water go thundering over, a strange illusion of silence and motionlessness reigns. Later, remembering, you will not recall the thunder, and the water will go over the brink in ponderous slow motion. At the lip of the falls the water is drawn so swift and shallow that you can see the bottom as if through glass, each rock distinct and unwavering, each little wave and ripple as motionless as crystal. And from the chaos below springs up a rich, thick mist, as sustaining to the heart as a feast of ambrosia.
Standing by the falls you seem lost in a wilderness, which is amazing because this is no wilderness spectacle. The river is sandwiched between two cities. Hotels, towers, curio shops, and parking lots crowd its banks. Nearby, wax museums, carnival rides, and side shows blare out to attract tourists. It is hard to imagine a more commercialized natural wonder, and yet it seems to shake all that off like an elephant dispatching a mosquito. There is a sense of delicious solitude, even though you must maneuver your way to the rail to get a viewing spot, rubbing shoulders with a sea of tourists speaking a babble of unknown tongues. You can imagine yourself an Indian standing here long ago in the young green wilderness, or a European explorer suddenly frozen in wonder as you first glimpse the thunder you have heard from far upriver.
For a long time the young men and women looked and looked and looked. All around them others from all around the world stood shoulder to shoulder with them doing the same thing. In one sense they had all seen everything there was to see at a glance, but in a truer sense they all knew that they had not even begun to see it yet, because there is a magic here that cannot be reached by seeing. It demands reverence. Even blind people have been known to stand by the railing and look and look and look.
But no one can look forever, and when the group had taken in as much of the reality as they could, they turned to other things—playing catch with a frisbee and a football, talking, relaxing on the grass, or just watching an incredible cross-section of humanity walk past—turbaned, tennis-shoed, or tuxedoed; gowned or grubby. They talked about the falls as a proud parent might speak of a bright child, feigning nonchalance, but enjoying the enthusiasm of others. They spoke reverently of the falls in winter—bearded, solemn, and venerable—as pagans might speak of some sacred object.
Leaving the falls behind after a few last looks, they crossed over to the American side en route to Fort Niagara, stopping for lunch at a drive-in. The American drive-in readily accepted Canadian money because here tourism is king, and money, after all, is money. The Canadian youth got a kick out of the “funny money” they got back as change.
Fort Niagara is built on Lake Ontario at the mouth of the Niagara River. The French established it there because from that spot they could control the water route into and out of the continent. The French flag was later replaced by the British and then the American. As the young men and women crossed the moat and walked through the heavy gates, they sensed that they were in a place where history lay as thick as incense. As they viewed the iron and stone implements of death, the hard wooden bunks, the musty stone chambers, the awareness grew in them of the hard life those early soldiers led. This had been a land abounding in beauty and solitude but very short on pity or compassion. As they went from building to building reliving the exploits of fur traders, generals, and colonists, they began to feel they knew these colorful, flint-hard men.
The fort was well designed for defense. On three sides impregnable sea walls rose from the lake or the river. The landward side was well defended by thick walls, earthworks, moats, and banks of cannons. The gates they passed through for an inexpensive ticket would have cost lives to breach in the old days.
But for all its hard past, the spot is peaceful and beautiful now, with a park outside its gates and the blue horizon of Lake Ontario behind it. The young men and women learned much about history there, and they learned about each other as well, forging bonds of friendship. The two groups, from different nations but one gospel, brothers and sisters forever, made plans for joint activities as they strolled through the fortifications. Then they parted, the Americans to return to their homes, the Canadians to theirs to put in several hours at their stake farm. As the Canadian youth passed the border stations on their way home, they knew better than ever that in the gospel there are no borders, and no passports are required except the ones we carry in our hearts.

Like millions of Latter-day Saints all over the world, LDS youth in Russia joined in last year’s sesquicentennial commemoration of the 1847 arrival of the pioneers in the Salt Lake Valley. Like the others, they relived the trek of those who traveled by wagon and handcart to Zion. But perhaps as much or more than any other group, they truly understood what it means to be a pioneer.
“Vperiod!” Brother Brigham shouts. “Forward!” He raises his hand high and points straight ahead. The pioneers grab their handcart, grimace at the effort of pulling it, and continue past a row of apartment buildings.
Wait a minute! That’s not how the Saints got to Utah!
Not to worry. This is Vyborg, Russia. The man playing the role of President Brigham Young is actually Aleksandr B. Tomak, a district president. And the pioneers, who have only a single handcart among them, are Russians from the St. Petersburg area, gathered at a youth conference to celebrate their heritage.
Yes, these are young members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. That means that not only is the journey of the pioneers part of their history; so is the visit of God the Father and his Son Jesus Christ to the Prophet Joseph Smith. So is the translation of the Book of Mormon. And so is the Restoration of the gospel in the latter days, with living prophets, temple work, and missionaries all over the world.
That’s why, as the handcart they are now pulling has journeyed from Siberia on the east to Vyborg on Russia’s western border, the “Mormons” in each location have not only pulled it through forests and mountains but also through the streets and parks of the cities where they live. They are celebrating, not only the pioneers that were, but also the pioneers they are—young people eager to live the truth and to share it with anyone willing to listen.
“I love Russia,” says Katya Medvedeva, 16, of the Nevsky Branch. “I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else. And at the same time, I love being a Latter-day Saint. I know The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is true. It is a worldwide church. You see the members here? They are strong and happy. They believe in Heavenly Father and in Jesus Christ. They believe the gospel has been restored to the earth.”
As she walks the pioneer trail, Katya can’t help thinking about the trials faced by Church members of an earlier era. “They were driven from their homes. They faced storms, starvation, and a journey of more than a thousand miles,” she says. “Here we are on paved roads in the sunshine, when many times they had to push through the mud and shiver from cold!”
Not that today is free from challenges. “We have different tasks before us,” Katya continues. “We’re blazing trails in new ways. Sometimes it’s as simple as telling people about the Word of Wisdom. When people drink tea or coffee or alcohol, or when they smoke or use drugs, they think that if they stop they won’t have freedom anymore. But if you stop you don’t lose freedom; you gain freedom because you’re not dependent on those things anymore.”
Blazing trails. Preparing the way for others. That’s what pioneers do.
Vitaly Yakushev, 18, says that, thanks to the youth conference, he has a deeper understanding of why early pioneers went through so much to gather to Utah. Local Church leaders gave him permission to take the train from his home in Kaliningrad, located in a small slice of Russia on the Baltic Sea, across Lithuania and Latvia, then back into Russia and on to St. Petersburg and Vyborg. The distance isn’t that far, but since the train stops in nearly every town, it took 21 hours.
That might seem like a lot to go through for a youth conference, Vitaly explains. “But I believe Jesus Christ lives and that he restored his Church through Joseph Smith. To be with so many others who believe the same things brings me happiness and joy. My soul wanted to be here.”
Vitaly’s physical journey parallels the spiritual journey of another young man, Dema Nicholayev, 18, of the Tosno Branch. A year and a half ago, “I was rebellious,” he says. “I listened to heavy metal music, I had brightly colored hair, I was looking for some kind of direction, and I thought I had found it.”
Then he met the missionaries. “At first, I didn’t believe them,” Dema continues. “I didn’t believe another lifestyle could be better than mine.”
Then the missionaries introduced him to a teenage member who bore his testimony. “That touched my heart, and slowly I started to believe what they were telling me. It changed my life.” As he grew in gospel knowledge, he wanted to share what he knew.
“Now,” he says, “I’m here at the conference with two of my friends that I baptized.”
As the youth walk and walk and walk, they sing. Someone strums a guitar, and everyone joins in folk songs. At other moments, silence reigns. And every once in a while, it just seems right to sing a hymn. “Come, Come, Ye Saints” is most popular, and those who sing it sometimes cry.
“Maybe I’m a little tired from walking so much,” says Natasha Kulenech, 16, of the Kolpino Branch. “But I feel the Spirit so strong that I know I can keep going. Life is like that. Sometimes I get tired, but then I think about the gospel. Before I became a member, my life was like a black-and-white film. Now it’s living color!”
“I think I’m just a normal member of the Church,” says Genia Slepukhina, 17, of Vyborg. “I can maybe go on a hike like this, in good weather with all of my friends. But I don’t really know what it would be like in the winter without food and fuel and shoes. I don’t know if I could do what they had to do.”
But Genia has already proven she can do some things they had to do, like endure persecution. When she first joined the Church, former friends at school scorned her.
“They said, ‘You are not like we are so we won’t speak with you,’” Genia explains. “One teacher said, ‘I will quiz you every day on my subject. Every day. And I know Mormons must be truthful, so don’t lie to me if you’re not prepared.’ That was hard, because I have six or seven subjects each day, and I must prepare for every one.”
Sometimes classmates would even hit her. “But my family, Church friends, and the missionaries really helped me,” Genia says. “They gave me great examples to follow. One of the missionaries showed me Matthew 5:10–12 [Matt. 5:10–12], where the Savior says if you are persecuted because of your faith, you will be blessed. So I kept after it. I always tried to testify of the truth. I think a lot of people thought my belief was just a temporary thing, and in time it would go away. Now they know it’s here to stay.”
“For us the LDS Church is new,” says Katya Pyshnyak, 13, of the Avtovo Branch. “Nobody in our branch has been a member for more than six or seven years. So we are the first, and that makes us like pioneers. We’re trying to be examples to others, like the pioneers who crossed the plains are examples to us. They had love and believed they would reach the right place and everything would be all right when they got there. They knew that God would help them.”
She and her friend Tanya Kuznezova, 16, also from Avtovo, foresee the day when The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints will be a major influence in Russia.
“The true church must have its beginning in some country,” Katya says. “It isn’t important where it began. What is important is that it is true.”
“I think the LDS Church will be very big in Russia, that many people will want to be members,” Tanya says. “Right now people don’t understand that this is the only way we can live once again with our Heavenly Father. But some day they will understand how important it is and that they can know, as I know, that it is true.”
What do pioneers do? They go where others have not gone before, discover new things, mark a path, and prepare the way.
The Vyborg-St. Petersburg handcart company reaches the end of the trail at the shore of a lake in the forest. Here, workshops will be held and lunch served for those who have “safely completed the journey to Zion,” as President Tomak proclaims.
“Vot eto mesto!” he says, in his best Brother Brigham voice. “This is the place!”
It’s a phrase that was true 150 years ago in the valley of the Great Salt Lake. It is now a phrase that is equally true from Siberia to Vyborg, all across a vast country where modern pioneers are embracing the restored gospel today.
Two handcarts were actually used in various cities across Russia, one as a backup in case of trouble or in case activities were planned in two places on the same day. When the celebrations were through, one cart remained in Russia. The other was shipped to Church headquarters, where it was presented to President Gordon B. Hinckley, then displayed at the Church Museum of History and Art.
Members filled the handcart bound for Salt Lake City with souvenirs. The youth of St. Petersburg were eager to be part of the sharing, but what could they add to such a collection?
A perfect answer: each youth conference participant was given a sheet or two of paper. They were instructed to write their testimony, addressed to President Hinckley. Then all the testimonies were bound together in a blue velvet book trimmed with gold braid and bearing the Russian coat of arms.
Though there were many items in the cart, from teddy bears to dolls dressed in native costumes, none were more precious than the book of testimonies, a true gift from the heart.

The next year a member of Kevin’s stake spoke on the importance of family history indexing. That day Kevin went straight home, created an LDS Account, and began to index. Because of his illness, Kevin had a hard time in school, and reading was a challenge. He spent hours at his computer searching for letters he could recognize. Yet, one by one, he matched the letters on the screen with the letters on the computer keyboard. He soon began to understand the importance and impact of family history work, so he made a Duty to God goal to index a number of names.
Halfway to the goal, however, his disease began to spread even more rapidly. He lost much of the mobility in his arms and couldn’t reach the computer keyboard. A hard trial? Yes. But impossible to overcome? No.
Kevin knew that if the Lord wanted him to accomplish his goal, He would again provide a way. And that’s what happened.
In December 2014, Kevin invited the youth from his stake to help him reach his goal. About 40 youth responded. Most of them had never indexed before, yet they too felt the importance of family history work and the desire to help their friend in need. So they planned a day when they could get together, bring computers, and bring in a few indexing gurus to help them take on the challenge.
When the day came to begin indexing names for Kevin’s goal, the youth from the stake video-conferenced Kevin so that he and his family could watch them from his hospital room. Kevin had never realized he had so many friends—even friends he thought he’d been unsuccessful in reaching out to joined in the effort to help.
That day the young men and young women of Kevin’s stake indexed hundreds of names. By the end of the year, they had met Kevin’s goal—and then some.

Lobo is the reason David started going to church in the first place. He was out one morning when some boys from the neighborhood ran up and asked if they could pet his dog. They were three brothers, all younger than David, and they weren’t allowed to have a dog themselves. So David let them pet his dog. After that, the boys started coming around all the time to see Lobo, and eventually they told him they were LDS. Did David want to come to church with them some time?

That’s how it happened. The rest was simple. David prayed about it, and he gained a testimony of the gospel. Unfortunately, those three boys moved away.

Now David goes to church by himself. He takes the 7:45 one train to Lincoln Center, then walks across the street, skirting the construction at the corner of 65th and Columbus. It’s the seven-story building with the gold lettering above the door that says “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” “Visitors Welcome” is the sign on the corner, but David is not a visitor.

When my family lived in Mesa, Arizona, our one-year-old daughter became ill with viral meningitis. When the doctor diagnosed the illness, he told us that we would know within the next twenty-four hours whether she would live or die. We began to fast and pray for her recovery. She lingered near death for a week, much longer than the doctor had expected in terms of seeing some kind of change.

After that week of struggling, we again fasted, and the ward joined us. When we prayed, fasted, and said to the Lord, “Thy will be done,” a peace as tangible and real as anything we have ever experienced came to our minds. We were not in turmoil, nor were we anxious about the matter. We did not know whether she would live or die, but we were at peace. Happily, she began to recover.

Since the time he entered the Manila Philippines Temple in July 2001, just before leaving for his mission to Singapore, Riaz Gill of Pakistan knew that he wanted to return to the temple so he could have an eternal family.
In 2007, his wife, Farah, was baptized, but funds were tight and they didn’t know when they would be able to make the trip to the temple, more than 3,500 miles (5,700 km) away. With the birth of their son, Ammon Phinehas, in 2009, their desire to be sealed in the temple grew even stronger, and late in 2010, with help from the Church’s General Temple Patron Assistance Fund, their prayers were answered.
“Going to the temple with my family has helped to make my testimony stronger,” Brother Gill said. “After our temple visit, it seems like I have more to give to the Lord. … The temple visit was so good and faith-promoting, it is hard to express in words.”
While there, Brother Gill was also able to perform ordinances for his father, grandfather, and father-in-law, who have all passed away. He had the work done for his mother, and he was sealed to his parents.
“It has been a great privilege for me and my family to visit the temple,” he said. “I want to give my special thanks with a lot of prayers to the leaders who made this temple trip possible.”

I know a very faithful young deacon who transformed himself into a modern Captain Moroni. Inasmuch as he has sought to follow the counsel of his parents and Church leaders, his faith and determination have been tested every day, even at his young age. He told me one day he was surprised by a very difficult and uncomfortable situation—his friends were accessing pornographic images on their cell phones. In that exact moment, this young man had to decide what was most important—his popularity or his righteousness. In the few seconds that followed, he was filled with courage and told his friends that what they were doing was not right. Moreover, he told them that they should stop what they were doing or they would become slaves to it. Most of his classmates ridiculed his counsel, saying that it was a part of life and that there was nothing wrong with it. However, there was one among them who listened to the counsel of that young man and decided to stop what he was doing.

This deacon’s example had a positive influence on at least one of his classmates. Undoubtedly, he and his friend faced mockery and persecution because of that decision. On the other hand, they had followed the admonition of Alma to his people when he said, “Come ye out from the wicked, and be ye separate, and touch not their unclean things.”6

“I’m not afraid to go to bed,” Billy told the baby-sitter. Mrs. Jones smiled and tucked in the covers.
“But I like to see where I am sleeping,” Billy said.
Mrs. Jones turned on the small night-light.
“And my bear would be warmer if it was under the covers with me,” Billy said.
Mrs. Jones brought the teddy bear to Billy.
“If I had a glass of water near my bed,” Billy said, “I wouldn’t have to bother you in case I got thirsty.”
Mrs. Jones went to the kitchen and brought back a glass of water.
“You must be tired,” Billy said. “Would you like me to read you a story?”
“That would be very nice,” Mrs. Jones said.
Billy read a picture story about Jesus Christ.
“I would read you another story,” Billy said, “but my eyes are getting sleepy.”
“You can read it to me the next time I come,” the baby-sitter said. She kissed him good night.
Billy nodded. He was very, very sleepy. He was also happy that Mrs. Jones knew that he was not afraid to go to bed.