Gospel Story Finder

At age 19, I moved to Jakarta and joined my mother. We had been separated for many years because mother had to find a job to survive when my father died. I was very lonely in this big city of 8 million people. I turned to the New Testament to study about the Savior. I had forgotten the scriptures for many years during my teenage years. One day, in early 1977, as I stood in the main train station seeing my friend off to his home town, a young lady came over and asked me about the starting date of the school year. She had mistaken me as her class mate. This introduction led me to the invitation to join her family at Church. What a miracle that was, a mistaken miracle I called it. I went with them to a small Church. I received a warm welcome. It was my first time attending a meeting of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The missionaries taught me and I accepted baptism and was confirmed a member of the Church on the 30th of April 1977.

I didn't know much at that time about the church, but I knew that Joseph Smith was a prophet. Yes I knew it! I felt my Heavenly Father's love. Somehow, I felt that life had a purpose and meaning. I could see a light for the future.

Sister Linda K. Burton told the story of a stake Relief Society president who, working with others, collected quilts for people in need during the 1990s. “She and her daughter drove a truck filled with those quilts from London to Kosovo. On her journey home she received an unmistakable spiritual impression that sank deep into her heart. The impression was this: ‘What you have done is a very good thing. Now go home, walk across the street, and serve your neighbor!’”3

President Wilkinson’s secretary called me when I first arrived and asked me if I would come over for an interview with President Wilkinson. It was his practice to interview all new faculty. In those days his office was at the Maeser Building. The Smoot Administration Building hadn’t been built. I said, “Yes,” and she set an appointment for the next day.

If you haven’t taught before, especially when facing new preparations for a first class experience, then you won’t fully appreciate this. I taught everything I knew the day I was teaching, and then I had to get ready for the next day by preparing all new material. I had three or four new preparations, and all I did night and day was prepare and present lectures. Well, when the next day came, you may have guessed, I worked right through that appointment. Nobody reminded me; I just worked right through it.

The secretary called and, of course, I was greatly embarrassed. She said, “Well, it’s okay. We’ll schedule it for tomorrow.” I accepted that appointment. Now, if you didn’t believe the first part, you’ll never believe this part. I worked right through that appointment the second day. After my second failure, the secretary called and said, “Brother Smoot, do you suppose that you could remember long enough to come now?”

Well, amazingly, I did. I do remember being in the upper area of the Maeser Building and talking to President Wilkinson, but I don’t remember so much about the conversation as I do about my efforts to arrive there.

That experience goes back to my first teaching days as a university faculty member.

While it's true that, as President Thomas S. Monson says, our decisions determine our destiny,[3] I have also come to know that what we choose to trust in our decisions affects countless other people's destinies, many we cannot foresee.

For instance, when my father-in-law was a college freshman at a Baptist university on a football scholarship, he dislocated both of his shoulders during practice days before the first game of the season. Knowing he would have to sit the season out because of his injuries, he chose to quit the team and turn in his scholarship. The coaches assured him they still had a spot for him and he didn't have to relinquish the scholarship, but he insisted, saying it was the right thing to do. This changed the trajectory of his life, and rather than going to college to become a Baptist minister, he chose a different path, which eventually led him to the gospel and baptism into the Church. If not for his decision to turn in his scholarship, his life would have unfolded in a completely different way, including the fact that I wouldn't have met his son at BYU, and I probably wouldn't even be living in Idaho! I am forever grateful for the trust in God displayed by my father-in-law, whom I didn't even meet until 52 years after he turned in that scholarship. I'm sure when he made this decision, he did not have the Mormon church or me in mind.

My great-grandmother Ann Stewart, born in 1833, had an older sister Elizabeth. She and her grandmother, known simply as “Granny,” brought the rest of the family into the Church as a result of a remarkable experience they enjoyed together.
When the Mormon missionaries came to the home of my great-great-grandfather Archibald Stewart in Ireland, Elizabeth, the third child, immediately felt the truthfulness of their message. She began to study and search for more assurance of the things she felt within. Her feelings and study stirred an immediate response in Granny, who was the real matriarch of the Stewart household.
Elizabeth spent many hours explaining to Granny, through written material, that a new prophet of God, Joseph Smith, had been called to bring back to earth the simple message that Christ was alive and had appeared to man.
Elizabeth felt a testimony burning within and asked her parents for permission to be baptized. But because of the unpopularity of the Mormons, her parents objected. Then, when Elizabeth was about to give up, Granny came to her rescue. “Let the child alone,” she said. “I have read all her books, and I do believe the child is right.” Granny was not one to be overruled, so her parents gave their consent.
On January 9, 1841, a wintry day, as Elizabeth left home with her baptismal clothes she found Granny by her side. The two walked to the river where the elders planned to hold the services. A hole had been broken in the ice. When the elders came forward to baptize Elizabeth, Granny said, “Watch your manners, child. Never step in front of your elders.”
Granny was baptized. She had brought nothing to change into, but even though she walked home in wet, frozen clothing, she didn’t take cold. She didn’t change her clothes until all the other family members had gone to bed. She said nothing about her baptism, but went about her usual tasks as though nothing had happened. After the others were asleep, she hung all her clothing near the fireplace.
When Elizabeth’s father, Archibald, got up the next morning, he saw the clothes drying. He began to joke to the others about Granny having been dipped in the river along with Elizabeth. Granny surprised him though, when she said, “Archibald, if you don’t want people to hear, stop shouting so loudly. You can’t talk about Granny now, for she can hear better than any of you.”
Granny had been deaf for 20 years, but a miracle had occurred. Her hearing had been restored at the time of her baptism. From that day until her death, she heard distinctly. In fact, Archibald laughingly said she heard too much!
This manifestation of the power of the Lord through his appointed servants made the family think seriously. They studied the gospel and as a result most of them were soon baptized.

Another example is given of a man whose daughter came to him one evening and said, “Dad, may I use the car tonight?”
He replied, “It isn’t here.”
“What do you mean, ‘It isn’t here.’ Where is it?”
“I don’t know. I let a man borrow it.”
“Well, who is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t understand. When will he bring it back?”
The father then explained, saying, “You seem to be quite concerned about my car, and yet you don’t seem to appreciate my wanting to know about your dates—with whom and where you are going and when you will come back. I have far more interest in you and your welfare than in my automobile, and I hope you can understand now why I ask you those questions.”

Not everybody has a vision of the glory. For example, toward the end of the last century, a Mr. Wright was a religious leader in the community of Elkhart, Indiana. A man by the name of Professor Kelly visited him. Professor Kelly was a local teacher who was trying to raise money for research in technical matters, and he wanted Wright’s support. He said that if people concentrated their industrial and technical efforts, they could do unbelievable things to raise their standard of living. He outlined some of the things that he thought might be accomplished. He said that man could increase his life span. He could construct homes that provided unheard of comforts and conveniences. He might even fly like a bird someday.
Wright said, “That’s an ungodly thought! I’m not going to support this. Go home and pray for forgiveness. To suggest that man could fly like a bird is to defy the will of God!”
Wright had two sons—Wilbur and Orville who had their vision of eternity as they flew the first power-driven, heavier-than-air flying machine in 1903.

“I always turn to my dad for good advice. He’s so easy to talk to.”
This remark seemed to be repeated again and again by one child after another during our discussion together.
A recently married daughter said, “I always vowed I wouldn’t marry anyone who wasn’t just like my dad. And I’m so lucky—I found a man just like him.”
“Dad has always been understanding. Once I was driving a borrowed car and became involved in a wreck. I was devastated and in tears when Dad arrived. He patiently helped me through that crisis, and I’ll never forget that experience.”
“When he tries to sing a song and doesn’t know the words, he makes up new ones. It’s really fun to sit next to him when he’s singing—it’s like listening to a foreign language.”
“Dad’s a tease and loves to tickle! When our family was in the mission field, Dad would tease the missionaries a lot.
“Speaking of the mission field, Dad used to tell the elders not to ‘tiptoe through the tulips,’ but to get the job done. At one zone conference during Christmastime, our whole family was on the program. Dad wore an orange hat and we sang and danced to ‘Tiptoe Through the Tulips.’”

Katie Lewis is my neighbor. Her father, Randy, is my bishop; her mother, Melanie, is a saint. And her older brother, Jimmie, is battling leukemia.

Sister Lewis recently recounted for me the unspeakable fear and grief that came to their family when Jimmie’s illness was diagnosed. She spoke of the tears and the waves of sorrow that any mother would experience with a prognosis as grim as Jimmie’s was. But like the faithful Latter-day Saints they are, the Lewises turned to God with urgency and with faith and with hope. They fasted and prayed, prayed and fasted. And they went again and again to the temple.

One day Sister Lewis came home from a temple session weary and worried, feeling the impact of so many days—and nights—of fear being held at bay only by monumental faith.

As she entered her home, four-year-old Katie ran up to her with love in her eyes and a crumpled sheaf of papers in her hand. Holding the papers out to her mother, she said enthusiastically, “Mommy, do you know what these are?”

Sister Lewis said frankly her first impulse was to deflect Katie’s zeal and say she didn’t feel like playing just then. But she thought of her children—all her children—and the possible regret of missed opportunities and little lives that pass too swiftly. So she smiled through her sorrow and said, “No, Katie. I don’t know what they are. Please tell me.”

“They are the scriptures,” Katie beamed back, “and do you know what they say?”

Sister Lewis stopped smiling, gazed deeply at this little child, knelt down to her level, and said, “Tell me, Katie. What do the scriptures say?”

“They say, ‘Trust Jesus.’” And then she was gone.

Sister Lewis said that as she stood back up, holding a fistful of her four-year-old’s scribbling, she felt near-tangible arms of peace encircle her weary soul and a divine stillness calm her troubled heart.

Katie Lewis, “angel and minister of grace,” I’m with you. In a world of some discouragement, sorrow, and overmuch sin, in times when fear and despair seem to prevail, when humanity is feverish with no worldly physicians in sight, I too say, “Trust Jesus.” Let him still the tempest and ride upon the storm. Believe that he can lift mankind from its bed of affliction, in time and in eternity.

I was converted to the gospel when I was very young. Throughout my youth, I held different Church callings, and it is impossible to describe the joy I received from them. But one of the most remarkable experiences I had as a young person came the week before my mission.

I turned in my mission papers in January 1976. After some time, which seemed very long to me, I received a letter calling me to serve in the México Monterrey Mission.

Because my stake president was about to be released, he set me apart a week before I was to leave for my mission. He cautioned me about how I would need to live now that I had been set apart, but we agreed that I would continue at my job for one more week—as I had planned. I wanted to continue working as long as possible to earn more money for my mission and to help my family. As I left the stake president’s home on the Sunday evening I was set apart, I felt a beautiful warmth fill my entire body.

The next morning I got up to go to work as usual. As I entered the office building where I worked, I greeted the elevator operator and told him which floor I wanted. The operator did not answer but just stared at me. Then the owners of my company got on the elevator, and we greeted each other. After the elevator doors closed, I noticed my bosses were staring at me too. They asked me what had happened. I answered that nothing had happened.

When I walked into the department where I worked, my coworkers stopped talking and looked at me. I still could not understand why.

Later that day my bosses called me into their office. They asked me to recommend someone responsible to take my place. Then they asked why I seemed so different. I told them about my religion and my mission. They congratulated me and refused to accept my resignation. They said they would instead allow me to take leave for a year and a half so I wouldn’t lose my job benefits. And they asked me to return to work as soon as I finished my mission.

As I looked at my coworkers on my last day of work, I realized how much I loved them, even though their standards were very different from mine. María, who worked near me, asked, “What is happening to you? Why are you so different?” She said she could see a light in my countenance. “Why is that?” she asked.

Finally I began to understand the importance of missionary work from a new perspective. I had been called as a servant of the Lord, and the influence of the Holy Ghost was shining through me.

I am grateful to our Heavenly Father for that week of preparation before my mission. I am also grateful for my coworkers. They strengthened my testimony of the gospel by letting me see the importance of my calling through their eyes.

Elder Brown has fulfilled a number of impactful service assignments. He has contributed hundreds of gravestone transcriptions to the BillionGraves website, aiding individuals around the world in their family history efforts. He volunteers weekly in two local charity shops, where he has become a valued team member and has also served at the Thackray Medical Museum, where he frequently shares gospel messages with those he works alongside.
One of Elder Brown’s museum supervisors, Ross, was particularly influenced by these conversations. Ross now has the Gospel Library app on his phone and has even visited the Preston England Temple grounds—an experience inspired by his time with Elder Brown.

Lydia watched Mommy get ready for work. Mommy put on pretty pink lipstick. She looked beautiful.
Lydia looked in the mirror. She felt sad. “I don’t have any lipstick,” Lydia said. “So I’m not beautiful.”
Mommy hugged her tight. “Wearing lipstick isn’t what makes people beautiful. Being strong and kind makes people beautiful.”
“Strong like having lots of muscles?” Lydia asked.
Mommy smiled. “No. This kind of strong means choosing the right.”
“How?” asked Lydia.
“Well, you are strong and kind when your hands help others,” Mommy said.
“You are strong and kind when your heart loves everyone.
“And you are strong and kind when you smile. That makes everyone happy too.
“Being strong and kind makes you beautiful inside, not just outside.”
Lydia wanted to be strong and kind!
She used her hands to carry the mail in for Grandpa. She gave her last cookie to her cousin.
She felt love in her heart when she played with a new neighbor. And she felt love when she gave coins to a girl collecting money for people who didn’t have homes.
She smiled at people she saw. They all smiled back.
That night Lydia told Mommy, “You are right! I feel strong and kind. I used my hands and my heart and my smile today.”
Mommy smiled. “You are strong and kind, just like Jesus wants you to be!”

Not long ago, on the campus of Brigham Young University, I was teaching a New Testament class focused on the life of Jesus Christ. At the conclusion of a discussion focused on the hypocrisy1 of those who questioned the Savior’s authority and the signs2 given of His Second Coming, I had a student approach me to ask a question. His motive seemed pure as he reflected: “The scriptures state that in the last days, if it were possible, even the very elect will be deceived.3 Sister Platt, how will I know Him? I don’t want to be deceived.”
My first thought was to turn to the scriptures and reexplore what we had just studied in class pertaining to the signs of Christ’s Second Coming. But the Spirit prompted otherwise. Instead, I asked a question much like one the Lord has asked on various occasions: “Do you know Him now? Is He familiar to you?” Or, in the words of Jesus, “What think ye of Christ?”4
His eyes filled with tears. “No. I don’t think I know Him as I should. Please teach me how I can come to recognize Him.”
His honest inquiry is reflective of every disciple’s desire. How can a sincere seeker of truth come to know and recognize Jesus Christ so he or she is not deceived?

I wish to speak about the uniqueness of BYU in the sense that it brings academic and spiritual things together. In the year 2000, the Palmyra New York Temple was dedicated. Prior to the dedication, the First Presidency gave instructions that those of the student body of the university who wanted to attend the service via broadcast were to do so in wards, in the chapels here in Provo.

I did a little bit of investigation, and I determined that very few students would be able to get into those chapels because the ward members also wanted to participate in the dedication. They had a strong interest in the place where the First Vision had occurred. Consequently, I asked President Gordon B. Hinckley if the service could be shown in the Marriott Center. Although there was some concern that it would be difficult to feel the Spirit during the service in this large space, he granted permission.

Students with recommends were asked to be in their seats 30 minutes before the meeting began. I arrived early and took a seat on the floor. As I entered this space through one of the tunnels, I immediately noticed extreme quiet in the room. There were no sounds. There were no whisperings. Almost every student had a set of scriptures, and each was quietly reading or pondering the events of the next two hours. A quiet, reverent attitude prevailed throughout the dedication.

Near the end, following the dedicatory prayer, the 20,000 students who were here stood and, with white handkerchiefs waving, repeated the Hosanna Shout. It was electric. The sea of handkerchiefs was like a field of grain waving in the wind. I have attended a number of other temple dedications—but not one like that one.

Following the closing hymn and prayer, the Holy Spirit pervaded every corner of this building. We watched President Hinckley and others walk out of the celestial room in Palmyra. I then approached the microphone and excused those in attendance to return to their classes. The few of us on the floor stood and waited for the audience to leave, but no one moved. After another minute, I went to the microphone and again invited those in attendance to return to class. Slowly, quietly, people rose and left the building.

It was one of the great spiritual moments of my time at this university. This building became an extension of the Palmyra temple for the two hours of the meeting.

Several years ago I attended a BYU football game with some of our young children. We lost the game. I really hate it when that happens. We listened to the coaches’ show on the ride back to our home in Bountiful. When it was over, my children had no alternative but to listen to my own postgame show. Just as I had completed my final analysis of what went wrong in the game, my seven-year-old daughter asked, “Dad, when you see the temple, do you get a good feeling inside?” I wondered, Where in the world did that come from? As I was trying to figure out what that comment had to do with the football game, I glanced over at her and could see she was looking out the window at the Salt Lake Temple. For some reason the game no longer mattered.
My whole life has been enriched by experiences of the temple. Our parents would take us to Temple Square in Salt Lake City on a regular basis. They would point to the temple and tell us that they were married there and because of that we would always be together as a family. What comfort that brought to a little boy whose biggest fear was that his parents might die. Now what comfort it brings to a grown man whose parents have passed on to the other side.
When I was 10 years old, in the shadows of the Salt Lake Temple I first read the Joseph Smith story and received a powerful testimony of the truthfulness of the Restoration.
I remember with thanksgiving going to the temple with my parents and receiving my endowments prior to departing for my mission.
My wife and I were married in the Salt Lake Temple about three years later. In subsequent years I have had the honor of performing the temple marriages of each of our six children.
We know many members of the Church have not had the luxury I have had of growing up around temples. Because of this knowledge we were all thrilled with the announcement made by President Hinckley in October of 1997 when he said, “We are determined … to take the temples to the people and afford them every opportunity for the very precious blessings that come of temple worship” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1997, 69; or Ensign, Nov. 1997, 50).
Since that time we have rejoiced and marveled as we have heard announcements of numerous temples and subsequently read of their open houses and dedications. We are witnessing a modern-day miracle and fulfillment of prophecy. What a wonderful time to be alive!
Our excitement over the building of temples is not shared by all. The adversary in particular is having a major temper tantrum as he sees his power threatened.
Over the last two years I have witnessed his wrath firsthand in West Africa. He has been very active, trying to prevent the building of a temple in that part of the world. Two years ago President Hinckley announced that there would be a temple in West Africa located in Accra, Ghana. Since then the adversary has been relentless in trying to prevent that from happening. Why is Lucifer so concerned?
We have 85,000 members in West Africa, and the Church is growing very rapidly. Sacrament meeting attendance is over 50 percent, but currently only 400 members have been endowed because of the prohibitive expense of traveling thousands of miles to Johannesburg or London. We have over 700 full-time African missionaries serving in the mission field, and very few of them have been endowed.
The African people have waited for centuries to receive the fulness of the gospel and have been through much pain and suffering. Now, at last, they can receive every blessing available to God’s children. Worthy members can receive the temple endowment and be able to have their families sealed together for time and for all eternity.
Faithfulness to temple covenants brings an acceleration of spiritual progress. As Elder John A. Widtsoe explained, “They will attain more readily to their place in the presence of the Lord; they will increase more rapidly in every divine power; they will approach more nearly to the likeness of God; they will more completely realize their divine destiny” (Evidences and Reconciliations [1960], 300).
That is why Lucifer is so concerned. In addition, he is aware of the large number of Africans who have accepted the gospel on the other side of the veil and are anxiously awaiting their proxy baptism and temple endowment as well as being sealed to their families. When a temple is dedicated, the dam in the spirit world will break and there will be a flood of humanity who have lived on the African continent flow into the temple of the Lord as their descendants do their work for them. We should not be surprised that Lucifer is using every means at his disposal to keep a temple from these people.
Through centuries of suffering, the people in general have not become bitter. They are humble, teachable, and God-fearing. They know the scriptures, and they recognize the Shepherd’s voice.
I have faith in their faith. I know the Savior loves the African people. Therefore, to paraphrase verse 33 of the 121st section of the Doctrine and Covenants, “As well might man stretch forth his puny arm to stop the [Congo] river in its decreed course, or to turn it up stream, as to hinder the Almighty from [building a temple for the African Latter-day Saints].”
As the Savior has said, “I will not suffer that [the enemy] shall destroy my work; yea, I will show unto them that my wisdom is greater than the cunning of the devil” (D&C 10:43).
It has been inspiring to see the Lord’s hand in bringing the forces together which will lead to an inevitable victory. There will be a temple in West Africa.
Last week we were driving from Provo to Bountiful again. As we left Provo we could see the temple up on the hill. Before it was out of sight, the Mount Timpanogos Utah Temple came into view, and then the Jordan River Utah Temple appeared, followed by the Salt Lake Temple. And immediately thereafter we could see the Bountiful Utah Temple standing like a jewel above that city.
I thought back to my daughter’s question, “Dad, when you see the temple, do you get a good feeling inside?” I realized the overwhelming answer is, “Yes, when I see a temple I have a wonderful feeling inside.” However, my heart aches for our African brothers and sisters who have never seen a temple in their whole life.
It is my hope and prayer that we will never take temple blessings for granted. I also have a prayer in my heart for West Africa and any other place in the world where outside influences are preventing the Saints from enjoying the blessings of a temple.
I testify to the divinity of this work. Jesus is the Christ. He stands at the head of this Church, and He is orchestrating the building of His kingdom here on earth. We are witnessing miracles, and therefore I can testify they have not ceased. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

The scene was familiar enough—just another junior high school basketball game, this one in Boston, Massachusetts. But something unusual was happening. Spectators who listened carefully overheard one of the visiting players complaining early in the game, “Hey, coach, there are two guys out there who look just alike. I can’t keep track of them.”
“Nonsense,” replied the coach. “The one guy is probable just too fast for you. Now get out there and hustle.”
Moments later the same player, this time looking really alarmed, reported, “Coach, there are three guys out there who look just alike!”
A quick glance at the home team would have shown he was right. The unsuspecting visitors had just come across Dan, Dave, and Doug Rozsa, identical triplets playing on the same team.
A couple of years later the Rozsas, by now well-known throughout the area, were again on the same basketball team, this time one that was preparing for the championship playoffs. The coach of the team they would play next was in attendance at one of their games, trying to figure out how to deal with the triple threat.
“Our biggest problem is that our guys don’t know which one to guard,” he confided to his assistant. “But I’ve got it all figured out. They each wear different colored shoes.” Unknown to the coach was the fact that seated right behind him and hearing every word was Sister Dawna Rozsa, mother of the triplets. And the next week as the confident coach came out to face the triplets, he was dismayed to find they really were identical right down to the color of their shoes.
The triplets lived in Boston while their father, Brother Allen Rosza, served as president of the Massachusetts Boston Mission. Since then, the family had been in California, where the boys are finishing up their senior year at El Modena High School in Orange.
All three young men are starting players on El Modena’s championship football team, with Dan at the defensive end, Dave at guard, and Doug at linebacker. In 1978 their team took home the Southern Conference Championship of the California Interscholastic Federation. On a rain-drenched evening they defeated Pacifica High School before a crowd of more that 10,000 spectators at Anaheim Stadium. In 1979 the team reached the semi-finals before being eliminated by the eventual champions.
The Rozsas have grown up playing on the same football, basketball, baseball, track, and wrestling teams, often much to the confusion of their opponents and even their coaches, who still haven’t figured out a way to tell them apart. The results of their collective athletic endeavors give the bedroom they share the appearance of a trophy case. Awards such as “Most Valuable, “All League,” “Player of the Game,” “All-County,” and All-CIF” seem to fill up every shelf and corner.
Many young people would be more than content with just the athletic success the triplets enjoy. Yet a look at their lives shows that this same high level of performance carries over into other areas. Each maintains a grade-point average that is nearly straight-A and each has received numerous scholastic and citizenship honors. All are Eagle Scouts and have earned their Duty to God awards. Each is active in all church activities, has served a youth mission, and is now in his fourth year at early morning seminary. Since they became deacons, the three have taken turns as president of their various Aaronic Priesthood quorums. In addition, Doug is this year’s student-body president at El Modena, with Dan assisting him as vice-president, while Dave heads up the senior class as president. Their attitude has always been to make the maximum effort at everything they do.
“We just try to be the best we can,” says Doug. “You only have an experience or situation once, and it’s a waste to say, ‘Oh, I could have done that if I’d only tried.’”
“Sure, it’s fun to be number one, but if you’re not, at least you know you never lose if you try your hardest,” agrees Dave. “We try not to think about what we’ve already done. Those things have been in the past, and we feel you have to keep proving yourself.”
Brother and Sister Rozsa were living in Greenville, Texas, in 1961 when the boys were born. Already the parents of four daughters, the couple were convinced they were never going to have any sons, so they had selected only girls’ names for the twins they thought were coming. A few days before the birth, the doctor called the Rozsas in and told them to get ready for triplets. So, with the addition of one more girl’s name, the couple thought they were prepared.
When the big day came, Brother Rozsa had his ear up against the delivery room door and heard just what he expected—“It’s a girl.” But before that had a chance to register the doctor broke in with “No, wait a minute; it’s a boy,” soon followed by exclamations of “Another boy,” “And another one.”
Practically having to pick himself up off the floor, Brother Rozsa’s first thoughts were “Scouting, fishing, and little league—at last!” An avid athlete and sportsman, Brother Rozsa says he had tried unsuccessfully to turn his very feminine daughters into tomboys. Thus he was overjoyed at the thoughts of not one but three fishing and football companions.
Brother and Sister Rozsa soon realized their three identical sons presented them with some special opportunities. One family home evening the parents and daughters decided they would read the entire New Testament by the end of the year.
“We figured out how many pages a day we would have to read to finish and talked it over, never dreaming that the boys, who were only eight years old, would be able to read the New Testament,” recalls Sister Rozsa. “But they didn’t realize they weren’t really a part of the conversation, so they started reading along with us. By the end of the year, each one had finished the New Testament along with the rest of the family.”
Brother Rozsa, now serving as a member of the Los Angeles Temple presidency, says he feels this incident taught his sons a lot about success. “They learned very early that if they stuck with a task they could be successful at it. We believe in our family that you can do anything if you set priorities and then follow them.”
As young boys, the triplets learned a lot about priorities from their parents and sisters. They soon knew that family and church came first, followed by school work, Scouting, music lessons, and sports. Over the years, they’ve kept up the same active pace. How do they do it?
“Well, we try not to waste much time. And we don’t have room for much sleep or television,” the three agree.
Serving full-time missions has been a priority with the triplets from the beginning. Their desire to do this grew even more when they were 12 and their father was called as a mission president.
“We decided when we were very young that we wanted to serve missions,” says Dave. “But being in the mission home gave us a better idea of what missionaries really do and what a mission is really like.” The three brothers still discuss the many dedicated and outstanding missionaries they knew in Boston.
Of course, they also admit they had great fun confusing the missionaries about which triplet was which. And, they remember many early morning bargaining sessions, trying unsuccessfully to convince the missionaries in the mission home to drive them around on their paper routes in the sub-zero Boston winters.
Serving a mission can be a financial burden to any missionary and his family, but what do you do when you have three sons all wanting to leave at the same time? The Rozsa family has foreseen this, and the boys have been working since the age of 13 toward their missions. In addition to those icy Boston paper routes, they’ve sold avocados, worked in construction, and held other odd jobs. Last summer all three worked at the same taco stand at the same time, guaranteeing considerable confusion among unsuspecting customers. They report their bank accounts are in good shape for the missions to come.
Even though the Rozsas have spent their lives in areas where the Church is a definite minority, none of the triplets feels he has ever had to compromise his beliefs to be successful.
“We always let people know where we stand, right from the beginning. Some guys bug us a few times, but now they respect us,” says Doug. “We don’t argue, we just say, ‘Hey, I’m not going to do that.’ Our coaches and friends know we have to be out of practice in time for Mutual, they know we don’t participate in sports on Sundays, and they know where we stand on the Word of Wisdom.”
For the most part, all three enjoy playing on the same teams. The only problem comes with wrestling season when the triplets, who stand 6 feet 2 1/2 inches tall and normally weigh in at 200 pounds, struggle to get into three different weight classes. One of them diets as another tries to eat his way into a higher weight class. The lucky third member of the trio gets to maintain the status quo.
A joint sports experience they remember is the football game when each of them made a touchdown. During another game, they all recovered the same fumble. Doug got to it first, then Dan drove in on top of him, followed by Dave.
“I guess sometimes we have an advantage,” says Dan. “We can usually figure out what each other would do in a situation.”
However it is that they do it, their coaches like it. El Modena’s football coach, Bob Lester, has only one complaint—“I wish they were quintuplets!”
Even with all their many activities, the Rozsas naturally find time for some relaxation. All three enjoy waterskiing, tinkering with cars, fishing, and other outdoor activities. Of course, some of the fun times they recall most revolve around their being triplets. At an early age, a favorite trick was to insist to Junior Sunday School teachers that all three of them were Dan. The next week they would all profess to be Dave and then Doug.
Sister Rozsa remembers a prayer offered by one of her sons at age four. “Bless my parents, bless my sisters, and bless those other two who look like me.”
Trading classes and teachers has been a source of occasional amusement, but the boys say they’ve kept this to a minimum. It’s always been a rule among them that while they often study together, each one has to take his own tests.
Now that the triplets are old enough to date, they’re really finding their threesome to be an advantage at times. Dan recalls one evening when he was trying to phone a girl to ask her out, but her number was always busy. He had to run off to a meeting, so he assigned brother Dave to fill in for him.
“Dave finally got hold of her and asked for a date. She said yes, I took her out, and she never found out what really happened,” says Dan. The three brothers remain sworn to secrecy as to the name of the young lady in question.
One thing people always ask the boys is “What’s it like to be a triplet?” Their response is really quite logical: “We’ve never been anything but triplets. It feels really normal to us,” says Doug.
“It’s easy for us to tell each other apart, too, because we look so different to each other,” says Dan. (Or was that Dave?)
The triplets are often amused by people’s reactions to seeing them for the first time.
“For some reason they get really mixed-up,” chuckles Dave. “They always come up to all three of us and ask, ‘Are you twins?’ Only rarely are we asked if we’re triplets. It’s like people think that’s just too much to be believed.”
Being triplets has its definite advantages, the boys claim. When they were young, their dad’s career in the air force took them all over the country. And unlike most kids, the triplets always got to take their best friends along with them wherever they went. In fact, in over 18 years the only time they’ve been apart was when serving their youth missions last summer. This togetherness will undoubtedly change in the next couple of years, though, as new experiences such as college and missions enter their lives. That is, unless missionaries start going forth three-by-three instead of two-by-two.

One day while upset with his younger brother, our nine-year-old loudly complained of his brother’s faults. This had happened many times before, and it had troubled me, but this day I felt inspired to try a more positive approach to solving the problem. I sent my son to his room and told him not to come out until he had written down ten nice things about his younger brother. When he emerged with the list, his attitude had changed. Looking for the positive had crowded out his negative thoughts and feelings.
We have since used this form of discipline frequently and have found it an effective way to maintain an atmosphere of love in our home. And learning early in life to look for a person’s good qualities will make our children happier and better prepared to get along with others in the future.

Jaymee was bored. There was nothing to do … nothing fun, anyway. She looked at her coloring book and crayons.
“I’m tired of coloring,” she thought.
Jaymee looked at her dolls with their colorful dresses, shoes, and purses.
“I’m tired of playing with my dolls,” she thought.
She looked at the books and magazines on her shelf.
“I’m tired of reading,” she thought.
Jaymee walked into the family room and looked at the television.
“I’m tired of movies and TV shows,” she thought.
Jaymee wandered around the house and found her mother in the kitchen washing dishes.
“Mom, I’m bored,” she said. “What can I do?”
“I can’t think of anything for you to do right now, Jaymee,” Mom said, squeezing a sponge into the hot, soapy water.
Jaymee found her brother Matthew in his bedroom. Toys, books, and clothes were scattered on the floor.
“Do you want to play, Matthew?” she asked.
“I have to clean my room right now,” he said. He picked up a truck and dropped it in the toy box.
Jaymee went outside. Mrs. Johnson was weeding her garden. She wiped her brow with a small towel, bent down, and pulled another weed. Jaymee didn’t even ask Mrs. Johnson if she wanted to play.
No, there was nothing to do. Nothing at all.
Jaymee sat down on the front porch. She started to think about what her Primary teacher had taught them. Jesus Christ had helped people, and He talked about how important it was to be a good neighbor. Jaymee smiled. She wanted to be like Jesus. She got up and hurried back into the house.
“Mom, can I help you?” she asked.
“Yes, Jaymee.” Mom handed Jaymee a dishcloth. “It would be a big help if you dried the dishes.”
When the dishes were done, Jaymee went to Matthew’s room.
“Matthew, can I help you clean your room?” she asked.
He looked surprised and said, “Yes.”
She picked up clothes, blocks, trucks, and books. At last they were done.
“Thanks, Jaymee,” Matthew said.
Jaymee went outside and saw Mrs. Johnson still weeding the garden. Jaymee went back into the house, poured a glass of cold lemonade, and took it to Mrs. Johnson.
“What a thoughtful thing to do,” Mrs. Johnson said. “Weeding makes me so hot and thirsty.” She finished the lemonade. “You are such a wonderful neighbor, Jaymee,” she said.
Jaymee smiled, and then they finished weeding the garden together.

I used to leave the house at 8:00 a.m. and return at midnight after working all day and going to class at night. During the little time my husband, Daniel, and I had together, we argued. Things were bad. We were on the verge of separating.
One Sunday evening after an argument, Daniel said, “Maybe we should get closer to God.” The next day, while Daniel was home watching our son, missionaries knocked on our door.
When the missionaries started visiting us, I disagreed with everything they taught. But after a few lessons, we began to feel something. We didn’t know what it was, but we described it as “magical,” a feeling of peace and harmony. It would linger even after the missionaries left. We realized that we needed that feeling more often in our home.
Inspired by the missionaries’ message about the importance of family, Daniel and I came closer together in our marriage. I had hoped that going to school would lead to a better position at my work. But we decided to focus on our family, spend more time together, and have more children. I quit school, quit my job, and went to work as Daniel’s secretary at his pest control business.
Less than three months after the missionaries’ first visit, we were baptized and confirmed. Our life changed dramatically. We began living the law of tithing. We began praying at home and at work with Daniel’s employees. We began serving in the Church. Daniel’s business grew, and he needed to hire more workers.
A year after our baptism, we went to the temple to be sealed. A few days after our sealing, I found out I was expecting.
Sundays aren’t easy for us. Daniel leaves early for high council meetings. I have to prepare our three children for church by myself. But we are able to share a lot of time together throughout the week. So even if we are apart at times on Sunday as we serve the Lord, we know that we are blessed.
We have gained a testimony that when we do our part, the Lord can help us, and blessings come. We have received a lot more than we had ever hoped for from our own plans. The Lord had better things in mind for us.

This story took place in Guatemala.
“I’m so excited to go to church at the chapel!” Anahí said at breakfast.
Because of the COVID-19 pandemic, Anahí and her family hadn’t been able to go to church in person for almost two years. But today they would finally be able to! Anahí was glad she could see her friends and have the sacrament with their ward again.
Anahí and her family sat down in the chapel. Anahí waved to her friends.
Soon it was time for the sacrament. After the hymn, Anahí folded her arms and bowed her head. She listened to the sacrament prayer. Then she looked at a little picture of Jesus. It helped her remember to be reverent.
A young man brought the tray to their row. But when the tray reached Anahí, it was empty!
Then Anahí looked closer. In the corner of the tray, there was one crumb left. She picked it up and put it in her mouth.
For the rest of the day, Anahí worried. She kept thinking about the tiny piece of bread. All through dinner she worried. She didn’t even eat her ice cream for dessert. She just sat at the table while Mami washed dishes.
Did the sacrament count if I only took a crumb? she thought.
Mami dried her hands on a towel. “Is something wrong, love?”
Anahí shook her head no.
“Well, your melted ice cream makes me think something is bothering you.” Mami smiled and sat down next to Anahí. “What is it?”
Tears filled Anahí’s eyes. “I was excited to take the sacrament today. But when the tray got to me, there was only a crumb of bread left.” She took a big breath. “Did I take the sacrament wrong?”
“No,” Mami said. She hugged Anahí close. “I saw you looking at the little picture of Jesus you carry in your scriptures. What were you thinking about?”
“I was thinking about how Jesus loves me. And about the nail prints in His hands and feet. And all He did for us.”
“Don’t you see?” Mami asked. “That’s why we take the bread and water. To remember the sacrifice Jesus made for us.”
“So the size of the bread doesn’t matter?”
“No. What matters is how you felt as you remembered the Savior,” Mami said. “And even though you just had a tiny piece of bread, Jesus’s love for you is not tiny. He loves you so, so much.”
Anahí smiled. She knew Mami was right. The sacrament could always be a special time to remember Jesus—even with just a tiny piece of bread.