Gospel Story Finder

Following the tornado, members of the Cedar Falls Ward, Cedar Rapids Iowa Stake, helped with various clean-up efforts. They helped turn an elementary school in nearby Aplington into the Parkersburg Distribution Center. At the center, tornado victims could pick up donated clothing, food, toiletries, cleaning supplies, and various other items, including microwaves and some appliances. Church members volunteered at the center three nights a week through August.
“We were so taken care of there,” Sister Godfrey said. “Heavenly Father took care of us [then], and He still is, and that’s what’s so amazing.”

You never know how it’s going to start.
At a school party in Melbourne a few years ago, Emily Denning walked up to Lisa Bignell and said something shocking.
For Brett Allen and Ben Marwick of Perth, it started with simple friendship, but it really got going the night they spent several hours riding their bikes in circles.
Down in Hobart, Tasmania, Selena Meure invited Sally Vellar to Sunday dinner and, in Sally’s words, “It was horrible. I have to be honest. It was terrible.”
Why was Lisa shocked? Well, the two girls had never been more than just acquaintances, classmates. So you could have knocked Lisa over with a feather when Emily walked up to her and said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about this for a while. I want to know more about your church. I want to become a Mormon.”
Lisa says, “I sort of jumped because it was really unexpected. I guess I never thought she’d be interested.”
It turns out that Emily had known for several years that Lisa was LDS. It also happened that Emily had been searching for the right church for about six years. “I was trying to find the truth, something that sounded right to me, not what other people thought I should believe. I wanted to find out for myself,” she says.
Emily visited a number of different churches, but none of them “clicked” as she puts it. In the meantime, Lisa’s family was participating in their ward’s “set-a-date” program (where members are encouraged to set a target date for having someone prepared to receive the missionaries). “We had been praying for a couple of weeks, when Emily came up to me. Because we never really hung around at school together, we didn’t know each other a whole lot. I was shocked, but then I thought immediately, This is an opportunity. I’d better take it.”
So Lisa invited Emily to a fireside where they were showing the film “How Rare a Possession.” Emily says, “I figured, well, there’s only one way to find out if this is right or not. I felt even before I came to church that I was going to join. It was just a feeling I had. When I walked into the chapel, everything just fell into place. I had this really good feeling.”
That good feeling was just reinforced as Emily continued to attend church and firesides and took the missionary lessons. Her only regrets since her baptism? Emily looks at little children in church and sometimes envies them, “growing up in church, with Primary and seminary, Young Women and all the rest of it.” She wishes she had been a member all her life. She knows how she’ll raise her own children someday.
You can see why Brett and Ben became friends in the first place. Both quick-witted. Articulate. Fond of taking a subject apart and looking at it from all angles, arguing opposite sides just for the sheer pleasure of it.
You can also see how their first gospel discussions must have been frustrating for both. Ben, the nonmember, his mind racing ahead, full of detailed questions. Brett, the member, wanting to keep things simple at first, focusing on testimony.
It all started with friendship, when Brett moved and started attending the same school as Ben. As Ben tells it: “We became pretty good friends, and occasionally I used to call him up in the morning—in the first term this was—and he was never there. His dad would say, ‘He’s in seminary.’”
Ben knew a seminary was where people studied religion, and that aroused his curiosity a little more. He and Brett had already been having those frustrating religious discussions, including the infamous evening when they were riding their bikes home from school and started talking about the Church. “I just rode around in circles with him for several hours, talking,” Ben recalls. “When you get involved in that kind of thing, you don’t notice what the time is. So of course we drove to our respective homes and got blasted for the lateness of the hour.”
Later, during the holidays, Ben was at Brett’s house with a couple of Brett’s LDS friends, who were there studying to finish off the seminary term. That’s when they invited Ben to join them at seminary. “I thought I might as well see what it was all about,” Ben says simply. So he started attending early-morning seminary, riding his bike to Brett’s house, where the class was held. The subject was Old Testament. Ben took to it like a frog to flies, completed the rest of the seminary year, and even received a certificate.
In fact, Ben didn’t just enjoy seminary. As Brett puts it, “He stole the show. All of us sort of viewed seminary as something that you needed to do if you wanted your parents to let you live. But Ben thrived on it.”
Once Ben started attending seminary, it wasn’t long before he, his sister, Josie, and his mother, Eleanor, were receiving the missionary discussions. They had the usual struggles and challenges, but all three were eventually baptized, and now Ben is thinking about his own future mission. He’s also continuing those gospel discussions with Brett, but from a very different perspective.
Dinner was a disaster, and it had nothing to do with the food. In fact, when Selena and Sally talk (and laugh) about that time, the food itself is never mentioned.
It started when Selena swallowed her fear and decided to participate in her ward’s set-a-date program. Lacking the nerve to ask the Lord for something more specific, Selena prayed that she would be presented with a situation that would show her who was the right person for her to try to fellowship. What she did next was brave. Selena set a date for the missionaries to come to dinner at her house, a dinner where she would have her unknown investigator present.
As the date approached, Selena was talking about it with a new friend, a convert of about two years named Stephen. He offered to bring his nonmember sister, Sally. “I thought, there’s my answer,” Selena says. So they went to see Sally.
Now, Selena claims she told Sally the missionaries would be there. Sally doesn’t remember that part. She simply recalls that her brother showed up with a girl she barely knew from school, and that girl invited her to Sunday dinner. Great. That’s a nice, friendly thing to do. In fact, the invitation was extended to another friend of Sally’s, too.
But Sunday arrived and the friend didn’t show. So Sally went to what she thought would be a quiet dinner with a few new friends. And that’s when the disaster struck. There was Sally, casually dressed in jeans, walking into a house full of Mormons still dressed in their Sunday clothes. In addition to Selena’s family, there were four missionaries (two of them had sort of invited themselves at the last minute). “I just sort of went, ‘Aaaagh!’” Sally recalls.
After dinner, the missionaries tried to give a presentation on the Savior, but the light was bad, and Sally was so uncomfortable she could hardly concentrate. Afterward, the missionaries asked her if she would like to take the discussions, but she was still feeling kind of numb and put them off with excuses about schoolwork.
That night, though, as she sorted out her thoughts, Sally decided, “Maybe I should just find out about it.” So she agreed to the discussions. And that’s all it took. “After the first discussion I just thought, Man, this is excellent. I love it. I have to know more.” She had the first four discussions in one week.
Sally encountered tremendous opposition from some of her friends at school, people who told her that if she joined the Mormons, they would have nothing to do with her. But the Spirit had born witness. And when she got discouraged, the elders gave her blessings.
It was August, the middle of the Australian winter, when Sally (at her request) was baptized in the ocean. Afterward, everyone got cold, wet hugs. Her brother Stephen confirmed her. Not bad for something that began as a disaster.
Actually, the missionary work never ends. Emily wants to be married in the temple and raise her children in the Church. Ben plans to go on a mission. At last report Sally was working to introduce a friend to the gospel. But first it has to begin. And it begins with friendship. It begins with letting your membership and your values be known. And it begins with faith that if you do your part, the Lord will do his.

The story is told of a certain young man in Orderville who felt the need for a new pair of pants:

As he gained in stature, the pants he wore seemed to shrink, but as there were no holes in them, and no patches, his application for a new pair was denied. But where “there is a will, there is a way.” There was a big crop of lambs that spring. When the lambs’ tails were docked [or cut off], the young brother surreptitiously gathered them and sheared off the wool which he stored in sacks. When he was assigned to take a load of wool to Nephi, he secretly took the lambs’ tail wool with his load and exchanged it for a pair of store pants. On his return, he wore his new pants to the next dance. His entrance caused a sensation. The story is that one young lady rushed up to him, embraced and kissed him. The president of the order demanded an explanation, and when it was truthfully given, he said: “According to your own story these pants belong to the order. You are requested to appear before the board of management tomorrow evening at half past eight, and to bring the store pants with you.”

At the meeting, the young brother was commended for his enterprise, but was reminded that all pants must be made of cloth from the same bolt. However, to prove its good will, the board of management agreed to have the store pants unseamed and used as a pattern for all pants made in the future, and further, the young man in question would get the first pair.

The tailoring department was soon swamped with orders for pants. The elders of the order protested. The boys went to work, as usual, but loafed on the jobs. It was noticed that the everlasting pants worn by the boys were getting thin in spots, and even some holes had developed. These boys were often on their knees when at prayers or when weeding the garden, but not much time was spent sitting down. Why was this unusual wear on the seat of the pants? When the elders saw the boys going in groups to the shed where the grindstone was housed, they became suspicious and investigated. Yes, the boys had been wearing out their pants on the grindstone. The elders protested and then capitulated. A load of wool was dispatched to Washington mills to trade for cloth. The tailor shop was a busy place. The boys were hard at work. The pants rebellion was over!

During the fervor of the early years of World War II, one of our teachers quorum members, Fritz, wanted to defend our country but didn’t want to wait until he reached the minimum age required to serve. He falsified his age and enlisted in the United States Navy. Soon he found himself far away in the Pacific sea battles. The vessel on which he served was sent to the bottom, with many hands lost. Fritz survived and later appeared in our quorum meeting in full uniform, with battle ribbons affixed. I remember asking Fritz, “Fritz, do you have any advice for us?” We were all on the very doorstep of mandatory military service.
Fritz thought for a moment and then said, “Never lie about your age or about anything else!” That one-sentence declaration is remembered yet.

It was the start of a fine spring day in Spain in 1983, and the barracks felt more confining to me than usual. But I was looking forward to this day because in the midst of my one-year mandatory service in the Spanish military, I had been given a one-day leave. I took great care in dressing so no flaw in my uniform would prevent me from passing inspection and leaving. My plan was to take a military bus to the city of Burgos, meet my friend Ricardo, and spend the day with him.
I had no problems with the inspection, and soon I met Ricardo, who was waiting with his car in Burgos. To my surprise, he had brought along a mutual friend, a young woman named Mari Carmen. I had first met Mari Carmen while she was serving as a missionary in Galicia, the region of Spain I am from. I was delighted to see her again, and the three of us decided to spend the day at a nearby park.
Ricardo parked his car at a quiet spot on the banks of the Arlanzón River, and we talked about our lives and the experiences we were having. I told them that the army had really put me to the test, spiritually speaking. Despite some pressure, I was keeping the commandments. But I felt bad that I was not able to exercise the Melchizedek Priesthood, which I hold, because there were no opportunities to do so. At times I had even wondered if I was still worthy of those divine powers.
Mari Carmen told us that she, too, was having a difficult time. She was seeing a man who had asked her to marry him, and she felt overwhelmed with the importance of making the right decision.
When the day drew to a close, Mari Carmen asked me if I would give her a priesthood blessing for additional strength and guidance. I was surprised at her request and also apprehensive. I did not feel prepared to give her a blessing, nor did I feel I could give her the help she needed. But at her insistence I decided I would try.
We went back to the car, and Mari Carmen sat in the front while Ricardo and I sat in the back. I asked Ricardo to say a prayer first so the Spirit would inspire my words and the power of the priesthood would be in my hands. His prayer immediately brought me a feeling of peace, and my fears vanished.
Then, assured that we were in a quiet place and would not be observed or disturbed, I placed my hands on Mari Carmen’s head. As I began to speak, words of comfort and encouragement came abundantly to my lips. I have never been able to remember exactly what I said, but when I finished, my heart was filled with emotion and Mari Carmen’s face was bathed in tears. She told me the things I had said were exactly what she needed to hear. She now felt she could make a correct decision concerning the marriage proposal.
Ricardo quickly moved into the driver’s seat so he could get me back to the bus stop on time. Before I knew it, I was saying good-bye to my friends and boarding a dirty military bus. But even the marked contrast in environment could not erase the feeling that had come over me—the assurance that the Lord blesses people by the power of the priesthood. As I lay on my bunk that night, I again felt an overpowering sensation of peace pass through my being. I was grateful to my Father in Heaven for his confidence in me.
Seven or eight months later, my friend Ricardo was married, and I went to Madrid to attend his wedding. Mari Carmen, who had recently married the man she had told us about, was also there with her husband, Fernando. Fernando gripped my hand firmly and looked me in the eye. “I am so grateful,” he said, “that you were able to give a blessing to the person who is now my wife. Thank you very much.”
His words left a deep impression on me. I cannot imagine a greater privilege than acting in the name of the Lord to bless the lives of people like Mari Carmen and Fernando.

Ten cents is for capital. Put it somewhere where you cannot access it or use it. This could be for 10, 15, or more years. When I think of these ten cents, I am reminded of my mother. She would sift through very good ground nuts and maize and put some aside for seeds. She would fumigate them—or so we were made to believe, so that we would not be tempted to roast that maize and eat those groundnuts when we were hungry. Mother never used the seeds, even in dire situations. She would rather have us go without than to eat those seeds. They were to be planted in the following rainy season and have them multiply. She would do the same in each harvest. She was never dependent on government handouts.7

As I arrived at the hospital, the young doctor who was attending me did what he could. But I had expanded so much, almost twice as big like a blister, that it was very difficult to tell if I was lying on my back or my stomach. And with all that, he tried to find some life signs and couldn’t. He declared me legally dead. He covered me with a sheet and took me back down to the entrance to the emergency care center. And there I was left on a cot. A nurse walked by. She was just beside the cot when my arm jerked slightly under the sheet. She became quite alarmed. They gathered all their resources and took me back up to intensive care.
Seven weeks of excruciating pain followed. Peter was given no chance to live. Teams of nurses and doctors had to relieve each other. Gradually Peter approached the threshold of consciousness.
I could hear them talking. It was like a fantasy because of all the pain. It was like a cloud around my mind. I heard the doctor say to my mother, “There is no chance that Peter will live.” When I heard him say this, I became very angry. I wanted to get up and hit the doctor. I remember trying to get off the bed, but I was tied down. I’ll never forget that feeling when the doctor said, “I don’t know how he has survived this long. There’s no chance that he’ll live.”
I remember thinking as I was slipping into a coma that I felt like I was dying. This happened many, many times, only I couldn’t remember the other times. I could only remember the time I was going through. As I was slipping away, I was so mad at the doctor that I said, I’ll prove to you I’m not going to die. I’ll keep living.”
The pain was so severe that I made a commitment to myself that before I gave up I would count to ten. I would see if I could make it to ten before I died. I’d get to five or six and feel myself slipping, and I’d say, “I’ve got to get to ten.”

Tommy Cross, 14, of the First Ward, talked about a temple trip to Dallas, Texas. “At first we all thought we’d remember going to Six Flags and that the baptisms for the dead were something we’d do just to keep the leaders happy. But when we got back and talked about it, we’d forgotten about the amusement park. Everybody remembered the temple and what went on inside the temple. It was more important. You felt better there.”

It was in Fayette, New York, that the Church was organized on 6 April 1830. Among the 56 friends and believers who gathered at the meeting was David Lewis, an 11-year-old boy. David said later: “[After the meeting] I went home and asked my mother if she was willing that I join the Church.”

She asked, “What church?” When he told her it was The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, she said, “Yes, David, you can do so if you please, but David, the whole world is against them, including all the good ministers.”

David replied, “I like the way Joseph speaks, he preaches baptism for the remission of sins, the laying on of hands for the reception of the Holy Ghost, etc.”

Only 29 days after the Church was organized, David Lewis was baptized on his 12th birthday by the Prophet Joseph Smith (David Lewis, reminiscence dictated to Andrew Jenson, 10 September 1908, LDS Church Archives; cited in Ensign, September 1978, 26).

One incident in particular made a great impression on me. In 2000 I had the opportunity to attend the groundbreaking ceremony of the first Latter-day Saint meetinghouse that would be built from the ground up in India. The location for this chapel was in Rajahmundry, a city near the eastern coast of the country. It is a relatively small city for India, even though about three million people live there.
I traveled to Rajahmundry with my wife; the mission president, Ebenezer Solomon; and his wife. As we arrived at the crowded train station in Rajahmundry, my heart went out to the many people I saw living in extreme poverty. There were many people sleeping on the hard floor wherever there was an empty space. When we arrived at the location of the groundbreaking, I noticed a great contrast between the misery I had just witnessed and the joy I saw in the faces of the members gathered to greet us. They were beaming and waving as we approached. They were so happy and excited. While they too lived in poor conditions by some standards, there was no sign of despair or emptiness.
I immediately began to understand why this location had been chosen for a chapel. I admit I had been somewhat unsure why the Church’s resources were being focused in this out-of-the-way location. But after I met briefly with the Saints in Rajahmundry, all of my questions were answered. These Latter-day Saints were so faithful and so excited to have their own meetinghouse.
After the groundbreaking ceremony, President Solomon introduced me to four widows who had been baptized several years before. They were all in their 70s. President Solomon informed me that these women had all been full-tithe payers since their baptisms. I was impressed that in an area with so much need, these faithful sisters had never missed an opportunity to pay their tithing, though I’m sure it had been a sacrifice for them.
I asked President Solomon about how much each sister would pay in tithing every month. He gave me a figure in rupees, the currency used in India. I did not understand the amount, so I asked him how much they would pay in U.S. dollars. I will never forget his answer: “They would pay between one-and-a-half and two pennies.” I was reminded again that paying tithing isn’t a matter of money, but it requires faith! It was humbling to realize that the blessing of a chapel had come to these Saints because of their willingness to sacrifice by paying tithing—even though it was only pennies. I’m sure the Lord must turn those pennies into millions of dollars.
Tithing is not a monetary commandment—it is a principle of faith. The Lord asks 10 percent of our income and waits to see if we will exercise faith in Him to make that sacrifice. The Saints in Rajahmundry had that faith.
I was impressed when we arrived at the building site to find a red carpet rolled out from the road to the canopy where the Saints were gathered. It was about 30 meters long. Under the canopy were red velvet chairs. They were large and impressive. The carpet and the chairs were worn, but it was the very best these Saints had to offer. They would not give less than their best. It was a humbling experience for me. These Saints in Rajahmundry set the example of faithfully giving to the Lord, whether it was in paying their tithing or providing their best accommodations for the visiting Church leaders.

One of the greatest lessons in devotion came when George T. Benson received a mission call. “I was about 13 years of age when father received a call to go on a mission. He went, leaving mother at home with seven children. The eighth was born four months after he arrived in the field.

“Mother was a stalwart. Never did we hear a murmur from her lips. The letters we received from Father were indeed a blessing. They seemed to us children to come halfway around the world, but they were only from Cedar Rapids, Marshall Town, Iowa; Chicago, Springfield, Illinois; etc. There came into our home, as a result, a spirit of missionary work that has never left it.

“Father returned home and while we were sitting in the yard on one-legged milking stools, milking cows the ‘armstrong method,’ he would sing over and over again, ‘Ye Elders of Israel,’ ‘Israel, Israel, God Is Calling,’ ‘Come All Ye Sons of God,’ ‘Ye Who Are Called to Labor,’ until I learned every word of these great missionary songs. Today I don’t need a songbook when we sing these great songs that Father sang to us morning and evening.”

The rodeo chute burst open and a raging, bucking bronco leaped high into the air. A cowboy sat on the horse in perfect form, the rhythm of each move matched to the twisting and turning of the wild animal.
But then the crowd rose to its feet and gasped as the massive animal came crashing down on its side, all of its weight crushing the left foot of its rider.
Zane Davis picked himself up and hobbled over to the chute. When he got his boot off, the foot began to swell. The crushed bones eliminated his chances to continue in the competition, but that didn’t keep Zane down.
Less than a month later he was back in the saddle, working his way to the title as top college rodeo rider in the United States.
Now Zane is serving a mission in Brazil and teaching the gospel to people in Portuguese. And he says, “I wouldn’t trade this mission experience for anything—even a national professional rodeo championship.”
It was in June of 1990 that Zane Davis secured the award as the national collegiate all-around cowboy of the year in the College National Finals Rodeo in Bozeman, Montana. Although only a freshman at the College of Southern Idaho, Zane didn’t get to the number-one spot by simply riding a few wild horses and winning a few competitions. Zane’s training started before he could walk, when his father, Shawn Davis (a three-time National Finals Rodeo saddle bronc world champion), took him along to rodeos across North America.
At the age of three, Zane insisted that he be allowed to ride in the rodeo against the eight- to twelve-year-old cowboys. But since he was too young to compete, he was only allowed to demonstrate his riding skill. Undaunted, he put on his hat, boots, rope, and spurs and climbed aboard a rather angry calf. Zane says that the next thing he knew he was on the ground. Apparently, he had ridden the calf almost to the time limit before falling off.
He entered his next rodeo when he was only five, and this time a pony bucked him off. But he still walked away with third-place honors. Hundreds of rodeos later, Zane had earned an impressive array of saddles, belt buckles, trophies, and cash prizes. The success came as a result of hard work.
Each day at his parents’ ranch in Idaho, Zane exercised by doing eighty sit-ups, twenty pull-ups, and four hundred push-ups. In addition, his riding included roping ten to twenty calves and practicing once a week for each riding event. Also, before each rodeo, Zane asked his father for a father’s blessing. Zane says, “I feel that these blessings kept me from getting injured on many occasions; and when I was injured, I recovered remarkably fast.”
Zane adds that obeying the Word of Wisdom has been a great blessing in his life. “Other cowboys who drink and take drugs may be good for a very short time, but they never last long,” he says.
Another reason Zane has done so well is that he has learned to face challenges. At one rodeo, he had to ride a bull that had thrown off all the college-age riders who had tried to ride it. But Zane, only thirteen years old, got on the bull and rode him in three out of five attempts. “I don’t remember ever being really frightened at a rodeo,” said Zane. “A little fear is always good for you, but too much fear is not good. If you have a little fear, you plan better. If you have too much fear, you may get out of control.”
One of the hardest decisions Zane ever had to face was whether or not to go on a mission. Colleges all over the United States were recruiting him. Although he had always planned on a mission, the final decision was really hard. “But I decided I had to go on a mission to try to pay the Lord back for some of the many blessings I have received,” he said.
Zane wrote home from his mission and said, “I’ve learned many things. I’ve changed a lot. I thought riding three times at each rodeo all summer long was tough, but it wasn’t anything as tough as serving a mission; nevertheless, it has been good for me.”
In his life, Zane has ridden a thousand wild horses and roped a thousand calves. Rodeo became easy to him. But perhaps the best thing about the sport was the chance to be with his father—who was always there, watching him, helping him stay safe.
Zane’s mission in Brazil was not easy. He underwent the shock of learning a new language and living in a different culture. But Zane improved daily. And on his mission he learned firsthand that his Father in Heaven is always there, watching him, helping him stay safe.

Jay Roberts stared out the window and sighed, then slowly stirred his cereal. He could hardly believe that summer was already gone.
“Hurry up, Jay,” Mother called from the hall. “Dad is ready for family prayer before he leaves.”
After the prayer, Jay carried his cereal bowl to the sink, then trudged up the stairs to brush his teeth. Who invented school anyway? he wondered.
When the school bus arrived, he dutifully climbed on. There were only a couple of seats left. He chose the one across the aisle from his best buddy. “Hey, Lance,” he said.
“Yo,” Lance replied. He said “yo” all the time now, after seeing a guy in a movie do it.
“Who do you want for a teacher?” Jay asked.
“Anyone except Mrs. Turnbull,” Lance replied. “I heard she’s really hard.”
Suddenly Jay was aware of a slight groan beside him. He turned around and saw a very small boy sharing the seat. “Hey,” Jay said to his neighbor, “I’m Jay.”
The little boy hesitated a moment before mumbling, “My name’s Rickey.”
“Well, hello, Rick,” Jay answered. “What grade are you in?”
“None.”
“None? What does that mean?”
“I’m just in the kid garden.”
“You mean in kindergarten?” Jay asked, trying not to smile.
Rickey nodded solemnly. “And I’m not sure where the garden is.”
“It’s OK,” Jay assured him. “There will be teachers at school to help you get where you’re going. And if there aren’t, we’ll show you.”
Rickey stared at Jay for a moment and then asked, “What’s your grade?”
“Lance and I are in fifth grade,” Jay replied, motioning toward his friend.
The little boy looked across the aisle and waved to Lance.
“Yo, Rick,” Lance said, nodding his head.
“This bus is pretty scary, huh?” Rickey said. “I mean, I never was in such a big car before.”
“Yeah,” Jay replied, “it’s bigger than anything else on the road. Everybody gets out of the way of the bus. And all the cars have to stop when we’re getting off and on.”
“Oh,” Rickey replied, looking around with a new interest. He turned toward the window. “I do kind of like looking down at all the cars.”
“I’ve been riding the bus for years,” Jay said importantly. “It isn’t too bad.”
Rickey looked at Jay’s bag. “What’s in there?” he asked.
“It’s my lunch—a peanut-butter sandwich, an apple, some raisins, and if I’m lucky, a brownie.”
“How do you know?” Rickey asked.
“I told you, I’ve been doing this a long time. Mom used to pack a different sandwich every day, but then she found out that I just traded them off, so now she just packs peanut butter.”
“Traded?”
Jay nodded. “Right. It works pretty good. Whatever you don’t like, you just trade with someone else. Sometimes you can get some really good stuff.”
Rickey considered this information. “Lunch sounds fun.”
“Did your mom tell you about recess?”
“Yes,” Rickey replied. “That’s playtime. But I don’t know who to play with.”
“You’ll make friends,” Jay replied, looking at Lance. “I guess friends are the best thing about school.”
“How come?” Rickey asked.
“Because they help you solve problems and get you through the tough stuff.”
“Like what?”
“Like when you don’t do so well on a test, and they play with you at recess and help you remember you’re the best soccer player in school. Or when you get a goofy part in a play, and they tell you it’s cool in front of all the other kids. That kind of stuff.”
The bus pulled up in front of the school, and Rickey still looked scared.
“It’s OK, Rick,” Jay told him. “Come on.”
“I’m afraid of the teacher.”
Jay gently pulled Rickey to his feet. “You don’t have to be afraid of the teachers. They’re kind of like your mom or dad away from home.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely,” Lance chimed in. “I even called my kindergarten teacher ‘Mom’ once.”
Jay looked at his friend with a raised eyebrow.
“Well, it was only once,” Lance said, shrugging.
“Let’s go,” Jay said, as the three boys walked toward the door. When they arrived at the kindergarten class, Rickey peered inside and was greeted with a smile from his teacher.
“Gotta go,” Jay said. Lance was already hurrying toward the fifth-grade classrooms.
“Listen, Jay,” Rickey told him, “if anyone makes fun of you about that play or something, just tell them you’re my friend.”
Jay nodded his head. “For sure!” With a wave he started off down the hall. Turning the corner, he saw Lance motioning to him.
“Hey, Jay,” Lance called, “we’re in the same class. We have Mrs. Turnbull!” Surprised by the grin on Jay’s face, he asked, “Did you hear me?”
“Absolutely!” Jay kept on grinning.

Adam was a cool, popular, good-looking sports captain at our high school in Brisbane, Australia. He was the guy every girl seemed to have a secret crush on. We became friends, and he would often ask me questions about being a Latter-day Saint. He respected my decision not to swear or drink alcohol like the majority of our peers did.
As we got to know each other better, I started to uncover the person underneath Adam’s popular, athletic shell. I saw something more in him that I didn’t see in most other guys. He had more respect for my beliefs, and he wanted to understand rather than mock my standards. He even stopped drinking and swearing. But I was still a little scared to present the beliefs of the Church openly to him. I was afraid he would think I was preaching or trying to convert him. Although I hoped deep inside that he would someday accept the gospel, I didn’t want to scare him away.
Sometimes I took Adam to sacrament meetings, firesides, and other Church activities. One day as we drove home from a fireside, he asked me why I didn’t tell him more about the Church. He had felt something stirring inside and wanted to know more, and I knew I should be doing more to help him.
As time went on, I made a greater effort to explain gospel principles to Adam. He was open and always respectful, but he brushed away the idea of baptism because he knew the contention it would create between him and his parents.
My friends and family thought it was good that I tried to share the gospel with Adam but didn’t seem to think he’d ever actually get baptized. I tried to keep him interested in the Church, but I really couldn’t see his baptism happening either. Still, my hope that he would someday take that step wouldn’t go away. I received strength and assurance from Heavenly Father that if I didn’t give up on Adam the Spirit would help him and bring him to baptism. After high school I moved away, and we went on with our separate lives.
Sometime after I left, Adam decided to take the missionary discussions. It was a slow and sometimes difficult process, but Adam finally decided to join the Church. His parents’ hearts were miraculously softened. It was like a dream come true. I wrote about it in my journal:
“I feel like all the prayers I’ve ever prayed, all the discouragement and worry and sorrow and whatever I’ve been through over Adam with the Church is all gone and was completely worth it because of how things are now! The Lord’s plan is so perfect and amazing. What a confirmation of the Lord’s perfect knowledge and timing. I was so impatient and faithless at times, but amidst all of that, God knew exactly what He was doing. This experience just brings me closer to the Lord, makes my faith in Him stronger, my love for Him more real and deep.”
Adam is now a faithful member of the Church, and he has already influenced many lives for good, especially those of his friends and family. My experience with Adam has taught me that it is not up to us to judge who will accept the gospel and who won’t. The gospel is not only for some select people. It is for everyone. Early in my friendship with Adam, I did not believe he would ever get baptized. But Heavenly Father knew. He knows who will accept His gospel, and He prepares their hearts and provides a way. All we need to do is never let an opportunity to share the gospel pass us by.
Don’t ever be scared to share your testimony.

In 1999, I was serving as the Harare Zimbabwe District president. By that time, I had a good job. Naume and I bought land in Norton, which was about a 40-minute drive from Harare, and we built a nice three-bedroom home on that land. We were excited to begin our new life in Norton. Our plan was to eventually build a bigger home on the property.

When the mission president learned about our plan to move from Harare, he counseled us not to leave. I reasoned that it was too expensive for us to stay in Harare. We continued to pursue our plans to move. A visiting General Authority also counseled us to stay in Harare. He suggested that we rent our house in Norton while continuing to live in Harare. I again said that it was too expensive to live in Harare. If we remained there, we would not be able to build the larger house we had planned.

On the way home from our conversation with the General Authority, Naume asked me why I was being so stubborn. I responded that our leaders did not seem to understand our situation. She said that she would support me only if I was willing to follow our Church leaders’ counsel. We remained in Harare, and we were richly blessed because of that decision.

I’m grateful that Naume had faith to stay.

On a visit to the Millcreek Stake in Salt Lake City some years ago, I learned that just over 100 brethren who were prospective elders had been ordained elders during the preceding year. I asked President James Clegg the secret of his success. Although he was too modest to take the credit, one of his counselors revealed that President Clegg, recognizing the challenge, had undertaken to personally call and arrange a private appointment between him and each prospective elder. During the appointment, President Clegg would mention the temple of the Lord, the saving ordinances and covenants emphasized there, and would conclude with this question: “Wouldn’t you desire to take your sweet wife and your precious children to the house of the Lord, that you might be a forever family throughout the eternities?” An acknowledgment followed, the reactivation process was pursued, and the goal was achieved.

One semester I had a student who needed the rest the Savior offers. She came to my office one evening in tears. Although her original purpose in coming was somehow related to our class, she soon started talking about her burdens. She had been married for almost two years and had a beautiful nine-month-old son. But her husband had a pornography addiction.

At first, he had been apologetic and repentant, but as their marriage continued, he had now become defensive and angry. He didn't see why his behavior mattered to anyone else but him. After all, he hadn't changed. He was the same man, the same husband, the same father. But this wasn't true.

Sin changes us, even if we won't admit it. Caught up in his sin, he didn't realize or didn't care that he'd started demeaning his wife, verbally abusing her for her efforts in their home, with their son, and in their marriage. And lately he'd become impatient with their child.

She wasn't really coming to me for advice; she just needed someone to listen. But as she finished, I couldn't help but make some suggestions. I recommended that she work with her bishop and a therapist to help her with the decisions she faced and to ensure her safety. I then offered comfort by reminding her that the Atonement could help ease her pain. She looked at me with great surprise and shock.

"No, Sister Papworth," she said. "I'm not the one with the pornography addiction. It's my husband that needs repentance."

This lovely, faithful young woman didn't understand that the Atonement means more than repentance. She didn't need to carry the burden of her pain and sorrow alone.

I want to mention a little incident that happened to me in the temple in Salt Lake City. As I walked down the long hall preparing to go into one of the rooms to perform a marriage for a young couple, a woman followed me out of the room after the ceremony. With great agitation, she asked, “Elder Kimball, do you re member me?” I was abashed. It seemed incredible but I could not make the connection. I was much embarrassed, as I had met thousands of people in my time. I finally said, “I’m sorry, but I cannot remember you.” Instead of disappointment, there was a great joy that came into her face. She was relieved. She said. “Oh, I am so grateful you can’t remember me. With my husband, I spent all night with you one time, while we were trying to change our lives. We had committed sin and we were struggling to get rid of it. You labored all night to help us clear it.” She said, “We have repented and changed our lives totally. I am glad you don’t remember me, because if you, one of the apostles, cannot remember me, maybe the Savior cannot remember my sins.” Her face was relieved. She said, “Thank you. Maybe the Lord will remember them no more.” The scriptures say if our sins are totally repented of, and if we totally change our lives, he will remember them no more. (Amsterdam priesthood session, August 7, 1976, p. 6.)

Lisa Toemei* paid extra attention to sweeping the floor of the one-room house. It was a special occasion. The missionaries were coming today. It would make the fourth time the American elders had visited her family.
Lisa had never been off the island of Pohnpei, which is just north of the equator in the Pacific Ocean. She looked forward to the visits of these missionaries from a land so far away. She had many questions for them.
At last the missionaries arrived. As was the custom, they removed their shoes before entering the house. “Brother and Sister Toemei, thank you for inviting us into your home.” Elder Choate greeted them in their own language.
Elder Tyson did the same.
Lisa liked listening to them, even though they spoke with a funny accent.
Barney, Lisa’s little brother, smiled shyly at the two young men.
Elder Choate and Elder Tyson came from the United States of America to teach the people about Jesus Christ. They were dressed in dark pants, white shirts, and ties. Their name badges proclaimed that they were from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Elder Choate was tall and fair, his hair so light that it appeared almost white. Even the hair on his arms was white! Lisa had never seen such pale skin and blue eyes. He was from Colorado. He showed it to her on a map. It was a small square surrounded by other squares and shapes—and very far from the ocean!
Elder Tyson was not so tall, but he still towered over her papa. His hair was bright red, making Lisa think of the sunset.
During each of the missionaries’ visits, Lisa and Barney couldn’t get their questions out fast enough. What was the United States like? How did people live without being near the ocean? What made their skin so light?
The missionaries answered the questions and then asked questions of their own. Did they know that their family could be together in heaven? Did they want to be an eternal family? Did they believe the Church was true, and if so, would they be baptized?
“An eternal family,” Mama said, her hands clasped. “It is the truth you bring us. Always we know there is something more than what we have, but we do not know where to find it. You honor us with this gift.”
Papa nodded, his face grave. “This baptism you speak of—you can do it for us?”
The elders grinned. “It would give us great joy to baptize you,” Elder Choate said. “Since Lisa is ten, she can be baptized along with you and Sister Toemei. Barney will have to wait until he is eight years old.”
“You will stay for a meal,” Mama said, already bustling about in the far corner that served as their kitchen.
What will we feed the Americans? Lisa wondered. The family had only a little food to last through the week.
Mama prepared the meal, all the while listening as the elders continued teaching from the dark blue Book of Mormon.
Lisa’s eyes widened when she saw the amount of food on the table. Rice, fresh tuna, and bananas filled the serving bowls! There was enough for several meals.
The elders held up their hands. “This is your family’s food,” Elder Choate said. “We cannot eat it.”
“You hold the everlasting gospel in your hands,” Mama said. “You must have our best.”
The young men continued to protest until Papa said quietly, “Would you turn away a gift from a friend?”
The elders looked at each other. “Thank you,” Elder Tyson said at last. “We would be honored to share your meal.”
Why?” Lisa asked her mother in a low voice as the missionaries went to wash their hands. “Why do you give them all our food? We will not have enough for the rest of the week.”
“Did you not hear what these men of God said? They bring a message from the living prophet. What is a bit of food compared to the truth and light that they teach to us?”
There was much laughter at the small wooden table during the meal. Lisa felt the Spirit warm her from the inside out. She especially liked hearing Elder Choate bear his testimony about Joseph Smith, the first President of the Church, and President Gordon B. Hinckley, the current prophet. She listened closely as Elder Tyson told of his recent visit to Guam.
Lisa scraped the last of the rice from the bowl as she put away the leftovers. She knew there would be little food for the next week, but she didn’t mind anymore.
The elders returned the following day. Each carried a sack. There were boxes of cereal and cans of fruit and vegetables.
“It is too much!” Mama said, tears bright in her eyes. “Too much.”
“Would you turn away a gift from a friend?” Elder Choate asked, using Papa’s words. “The gospel of Jesus Christ makes us all brothers and sisters. We could not let our brothers and sisters go hungry.”
Brothers and sisters—Lisa liked that.

Sue didn’t start out as a leader. She learned by trial and error. Growing up, Sue was just part of the crowd until the crowd started going a direction she did not care to follow. Her upbringing in the Church gave her a perspective different than that of her friends.

“In my second year of high school, my friends started doing awful things that would make me cry for them. I just wanted to shake them and ask, ‘What are you doing?’ but I couldn’t. It was frustrating. I started saying to myself, ‘Hey, Sue, you don’t need to do those things.’ “

That’s when she decided to make her own choices and possibly lead her friends in the right direction as well. Her bishop, Allen Dance of the Snoqualmie Valley Ward, noticed her ability to be a positive influence on her friends. “Sue has always sought the good. She has strengthened the weak in our ward and in the school. She goes out of her way to be friends to people who need a friend. As a result of her example, others have been blessed.”