Gospel Story Finder

When Wilford was 17 years old, his father arranged for him to continue going to school.
Wilford: But Father, I can’t afford to attend school in West Hartford!
Father: If you do chores for my friend, he will pay your room and board.
Wilford went to school but became terribly homesick.
Wilford: I miss my family, and I want to return home!
In order to avoid feeling homesick, Wilford decided that he needed to stay busy by focusing more on his studies. He grew to love history and started reading every history book he could get his hands on.
One day Wilford picked up the Bible and started to read it. Although he began reading it to learn about Christian history, he gained a testimony that the Bible was the word of God.
Wilford: I resolve to diligently seek the Lord, follow the Holy Spirit, and do the will of God as far as I can learn it!

Carlitos wiped the tears from his eyes. His mamá had been sick for many months. At last Papá had convinced her to go to the city, many kilometers from their small village in Chile, and see a doctor. After many tests, the doctor said that Carlitos’s mamá had cancer.
Mamá refused to feel sorry for herself. “I still have much to do,” she said.
One day, two young norteamericanos (North Americans) appeared at the door of their small home. “We are from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” one said in halting Spanish.
Mamá listened intently and occasionally asked questions. She accepted the young men’s message immediately. “It is the truth,” she said.
Despite the disease that caused her much pain, Mamá was determined to be baptized and confirmed.
On Saturday morning the family traveled to the small meetinghouse where Elder Metzer baptized her. She shivered as she stepped from the baptismal font.
“Mamá, you are cold,” Carlitos said and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You must go home and get warm.”
Mamá shook her head. “It is not enough. I will stay until I am confirmed. How can I be cold when the gospel warms me?” She was confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Mamá was not content with just that. She was determined that Papá and Carlitos learn of the restored gospel as she had. “If you will pray, you will know the truth of which the missionaries speak,” she told them.
The elders taught them the gospel of Jesus Christ. Papá would have to give up his cigarettes. Carlitos listened to the elders’ teachings and felt peace wrap around his heart. He began to understand the warmth that Mamá had described.
Within a month Papá had stopped smoking. Shortly afterward both Papá and Carlitos were baptized and confirmed. A few weeks later Papá received the Aaronic Priesthood. Carlitos would have to wait three more years before he could receive the priesthood.
Mamá was very weak, but she always managed to go to church and visit those in the village who were sick.
“We are members of God’s Church, but it is not enough,” Mamá told Papá and Carlitos one night.
“What must we do now?” Carlitos asked. He loved learning about the gospel and wanted to live it in every way.
“We must be sealed in the temple,” Mamá said.
The temple in Santiago was the closest one to their home. But they did not have enough money to travel there. Any extra money Papá earned went to buy medicine for Mamá.
So Mamá started a temple jar. She placed it by the door. The coins she collected grew until the family had enough money to make the trip. In the temple their family was sealed for time and all eternity.
Mamá glowed with happiness. “It is enough,” she said.

President Angel Alarcón from the Puente Piedra stake in Lima, Peru, shared the following experience with me: “Each Saturday, the missionaries, the bishop, some leaders from auxiliary organizations, and I visit less-active members, nonmembers, and new converts from 8:30 a.m. till noon.”
At this point of his story, the words of the hymn came to my mind:
Dear to the heart of the Shepherd,
Dear are the lambs of his fold;
Some from the pastures are straying,
Hungry and helpless and cold.
See, the Good Shepherd is seeking,
Seeking the lambs that are lost,
Bringing them in with rejoicing,
Saved at such infinite cost.
(“Dear to the Heart of the Shepherd,” Hymns, no. 221)
Brother Vargas, whose home was located in an area of limited access, received a call one Saturday morning. It was President Alarcón, calling from his mobile phone, announcing his arrival. Brother Vargas then said, “I am surprised; it is very hard to reach my house.”
To which came the reply: “Well, I am at your door right now, and I wish to speak to you. We need you, and we invite you to come to our Church meetings tomorrow.”
Then the man, who had stopped attending church for many years, replied, “I will be there.” Thus, he started his journey back home.

President Gordon B. Hinckley started off his 96th birthday celebration with a shovel and some dirt.
Hundreds of Brigham Young University alumni, faculty, and students, plus family members and friends looked on as President Hinckley took his shovel in hand and scooped dirt to kick off the construction of an 80,000-square-foot (7.432-square-meter) building that will bear his name at the school in Provo.
“You do me a great honor and a great kindness in what you do today,” President Hinckley told guests at the groundbreaking celebration for the new Gordon B. Hinckley Alumni and Visitors’ Center on June 23, 2006.
President Hinckley thanked guests and commented about how his wife, Marjorie Pay Hinckley, who died in 2004, had also been honored at BYU when a social work and social sciences chair was named in her honor in 2003.
“Maybe we could move her chair into my building, and we’d be together again,” he said.
President Thomas S. Monson, First Counselor in the First Presidency, President James E. Faust, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, and President Hinckley’s son Clark also spoke at the groundbreaking. Family members, President Hinckley’s counselors in the First Presidency, members of the BYU Board of Trustees, friends of the university, and donors joined President Hinckley in ceremoniously turning the first dirt for the building.
After the ceremony, President Hinckley donated the shovel he used, which came from his own tool collection. Construction commenced immediately after the ceremony.
After the groundbreaking, family, invited guests, and university leaders hosted President Hinckley at a private luncheon. President Hinckley’s children paid tribute to their father, and President Samuelson presented him with a brick with his name on it to represent the new center that bears his name.

Grandpa and Grandma were coming! To 15-year-old Holly Walker of Calgary, Alberta, Canada, this was front-page news, bigger than a visit from the queen or a phone call from E. T.

Holly and her grandfather are pen pals. She writes to him often, sharing her triumphs and traumas, her dreams and goals. He answers her with letters full of encouragement and counsel. The two share many things—a love of horses and gardening, a zest for learning, and, above all, a devotion to family and the gospel.

Holly’s grandmother symbolizes for her the ideal of strong, wise, gracious womanhood. Holly has grown up using her grandmother’s life as a model and cooking old family recipes first created by her ingenuity. On the horizon of Holly’s young life, these two people loom like giants.

Now the time for the visit had come at last. Holly waited impatiently at the Calgary International Airport with her mother; two of her sisters and their husbands; and assorted cousins, nieces, and nephews. They sat and watched the control tower gather in jets and sort them back into the sky like a mailman sorting mail. Soon one of the incoming specks would grow into the plane carrying Grandma and Grandpa.

Grandpa’s plane floated down across the southern edge of Calgary, tracing with its shadow the broad blue sweep of the Bow River. The plane banked, leaning hard on its northern wing, pointing the wing tip like a finger at the tall shafts of glass and metal that clustered in an elbow of the river. Just behind the wing tip Grandpa could see a splash of color punctuated with turning circles. He knew the circles were Ferris wheels at the stampede grounds. The plane flew north now, shedding altitude rapidly. Through the eastern windows Grandpa glimpsed a fringe of houses and then only a green and yellow distance to the horizon. Westward lay a broad rug of city, green with trees and parks. At the city’s western edge hills rose in gentle swells that grew mile by mile till they crested in a vertical tidal wave of stone—the eastern ramparts of the Rocky Mountains. From this distance they looked like an abrupt wrinkle on a relief map. Then the city rushed up, and the bump of wheels on runway told Grandpa and Grandma that their visit had begun.

Like all good Calgarians, Holly loves the Stampede, and every year she and her family attend. And Stampede 1983 was going to be something special. This year Grandpa and Grandma would go with them! It had been a long time since her grandparents’ last visit, because Grandpa is a very busy man.

When Holly’s grandfather and grandmother appeared through the airport gates, everyone rushed to greet them. You probably would have recognized them too. Holly’s grandfather is President Ezra Taft Benson, President of the Council of the Twelve. There were hugging and kissing and the happy chatter that accompanies a reunion. Then they were all off to the beautiful home where Holly lives with her mother, Barbara Benson Walker, and her father, Robert Harris Walker, who is president of the Calgary Alberta Stake.

As they drove homeward, they enjoyed the special gentility that governs life here. Drivers obeyed the speed limit, respected the rights of others and merged and yielded with courtesy. They saw cyclists pedaling out to one of the islands on the Bow River and caught a glimpse of men in immaculate white shirts and trousers playing cricket on a manicured swatch of grass.

That evening, Holly went to the LDS dance, which is one of the highlights of social life for young Latter-day Saints in Calgary. After the dance, she brought home many of her friends to meet her grandfather, who received them with graciousness and humor. He made them all feel like old and valued friends, and they also felt the powerful witness of the Spirit that they were in the presence of a beloved servant of God.

The Bensons were only able to be in town a few days, but the family made the most of the days they had. Holly treasured the opportunity more than any gift she could conceive of. Her family was the most important thing in her life, and her grandfather and grandmother were the honored patriarch and matriarch of the family. She loved to sit talking with them, enjoying the stories and counsel as much as a gourmet might enjoy a delicious meal. She listened spellbound as President Benson told her stories of his experiences as a Scoutmaster when he was a young man. It was obvious that he had taken that calling just as seriously as he does his present assignment.

Holly showed her grandfather her journal. This was almost the same as reviewing her whole life since she had last seen him, because she keeps a world-class journal. It included not only a written account of her experiences but also clippings and programs and articles and drawings and photographs and bits of fabric and many other artifacts of her life. Her descendants will be able to know their ancestor very well indeed. Through this journal President Benson was able to be a real participant in her life.

Music has always been an important part of family get-togethers, and Holly played the piano while President and Sister Benson sang. Later they walked and talked and relaxed in the well-tended yard which Holly’s green thumb had helped to prosper. Then Holly showed her proud grandpa a bedroom full of trophies and awards and shared her written goals for the coming year. For another girl, a girl with fewer trophies and fewer accomplishments, the list might have seemed pie-in-the-sky nonsense, but this young lady was up to the challenge. She has been student-body president of her junior high school, seminary president, and captain of the school basketball and volleyball teams. She is a very talented pianist, having won first place in her age group at the Calgary Kiwanis Music Festival several years in a row. She also accompanies her mother, who is a soprano soloist. Two years running Holly won the top academic and athletic award at her school. She has also won awards as a dancer, singer, and composer. These are only a few of her many accomplishments to date, and only a beginning of what she plans to achieve.

Her 1983 goals run several pages in length. They include an ambitious, capacity-stretching list of self-commitments in the areas of spirituality, academics, reading, journal keeping, photography, athletics, self-improvement, music, service, and missionary work. As an example, the sports goals include specific and challenging commitments in basketball, waterskiing, tennis, jogging, swimming, hiking, racquetball, windsurfing, trampoline, and golf.

Monday evening the family went to the chuck wagon races at the Calgary Stampede. President Benson watched with the keen eye of a lifelong horseman as the chuck wagon teams careened around the track in a cloud of dust and tangle of wagons, horses, and outriders. A constant stream of LDS Scouts who were visiting from the nearby international jamboree came to shake the Apostle’s hand, and he graciously turned away from the spectacle to greet them warmly. Afterward there was a stage show honoring Canada, and then the night became noon as fireworks blossomed in new constellations overhead. The family laughed and joked and cheered. The best part of the evening was just being together.

As with all happy events, the visit passed too quickly, but it was long enough to deepen Holly’s love for her grandparents even more. “It is great having my grandparents here. I love them and admire them both very much. They have always been and will always be great examples to me. I feel very blessed to be their granddaughter and to be so close to them. I hope that I will never let them down.

“I remember going down in the summers or at conference time to visit them. I always love to hear their stories of when they were my age or younger. Their experiences seem to really relate to me and the things I’m interested in. I love them so much. I think the greatest thing they’ve shown me is to have love in the family, and we certainly do. My family and my relatives are my closest friends. I’d much rather be with them than with anyone else.”

As her grandparents’ visit drew to a close, Holly was happy to know that every parting with those she loved would someday be followed by a reunion, and that someday there would be a reunion to be followed by no partings. Her grandfather and grandmother were hers eternally, and as beautiful as the summer is in Calgary, that knowledge was still more beautiful.

When the patriarch asked my son Blaine, his father, and me to come fasting to his home to receive a patriarchal blessing, he told Blaine that this preparation would help him to be able to give Blaine the blessing the Lord would have him receive.
We arrived at the patriarch’s home and the blessing began. It was a remarkable experience.
I felt I knew what the patriarch would say before he said it. The Lord seemed to be giving me some special insight about things I would need to know.
As Blaine grew a little older, it came time for him to go on a mission. He was interested in athletics, school, and many other things, and the thoughts of going on a mission did not fit into his plans.
One day, he said to his father: “Dad, do I have to go on a mission?”
His father replied, slowing his words thoughtfully: “No … Blaine … You don’t have to go on a mission. My sons are to make that decision and go because they want to go.”
He then came to me and told me that his father said he didn’t have to go on a mission, so he wasn’t going to go.
“But Blaine,” I said, “What about your patriarchal blessing? The blessing says you will have to bring the gospel to many.”
He didn’t reply but he was thoughtful. Later, he happened to meet a friend, crippled from poliomyelitis, who had just returned from his mission, excited and happy.
“Hey, David,” he said, “Why did you go on a mission?”
“Oh, Blaine, I went for the same reason every boy should go, to show the Lord how much I love him.”
The comment struck fertile ground. The words of his patriarchal blessing came back to him and Blaine committed himself to serve the Lord in the mission field.
My remarkable foreknowledge of Blaine’s blessing was a great aid to me in helping him make his decision to serve a mission. I think every mother in Zion is entitled to this kind of spiritual help in preparing her sons and daughters for the privilege and the responsibility of missionary service.

I had just gone through some dating heartache and was spending a lot of time at my sister’s. Inevitably we ended up eating junk food, watching TV, and taking naps. Waking from one of these naps, I remarked, “I don’t think we’re very good for each other.” We laughed, but that night I thanked Heavenly Father for the realization that I was using my sister as a security blanket and prayed for greater understanding of what I might do to move forward with my life. Over the next few months, that prayer was answered as I gained understanding one concept at a time.
The next day, while attending a Relief Society meeting, I noticed a particular scripture: “Others will he pacify, and lull them away into carnal security, that they will say: All is well in Zion; yea, Zion prospereth, all is well. … Therefore, wo be unto him that is at ease in Zion!” (2 Nephi 28:21, 24). I had always read these verses as describing the proud who went through the motions of worship. I had not considered myself as being at ease in Zion by spending so much time with my sister. But I began to realize that instead of seeking healing, I’d sought comfort. I resolved then to try harder to get out of my comfort zone.
The resolution helped, but stepping out of my comfort zone made me more aware of my inadequacies, which led me to feel more critical of myself. When I mentioned these feelings to a friend, he commented, “Isn’t forgiving ourselves great?” His comment helped me desire to better forgive myself of my shortcomings—without becoming complacent like those who are “at ease in Zion.”
One day I was struck by Mormon 2:13–14: “Their sorrowing was not unto repentance, because of the goodness of God; but it was rather the sorrowing of the damned, because the Lord would not always suffer them to take happiness in sin. And they did not come unto Jesus with broken hearts and contrite spirits.” I came to understand that my feelings of failure were stunting my personal growth, and I began to ponder what appropriate sorrow would entail. It was in Sunday School that I found my answer.
Our teacher drew a line on the chalkboard, labeling one end, “Being too hard on ourselves” and the other end, “Eat, drink, and be merry.” We talked about avoiding either extreme. I wondered what words would be in the center of the line, and the Spirit guided my thoughts to the phrase “a broken heart and a contrite spirit.” It seemed to me that the solution to a tendency to be too hard on oneself might be described as a contrite spirit—one that is repentant, accepting of the Lord’s help, and grateful for His mercy. The remedy for being at ease in Zion might be called a broken heart—one that is justly motivated to change and to heal.
The Savior taught, “Ye shall offer for a sacrifice unto me a broken heart and a contrite spirit” (3 Nephi 9:20). I am grateful to know that as I seek the Lord’s help to avoid being at ease in Zion and to avoid harshly judging myself, I am offering an acceptable sacrifice to Him—a sacrifice that helps me move forward with my life.

His promise reminded me of another experience. I met 12-year-old Charlotte Hlimi near Carcassonne, France, in 1990 while serving as a mission president. The Hlimis were a faithful family living in an apartment with eight children. They had a picture of the Savior and of the prophet on the wall. In the interview for her patriarchal blessing, I asked Charlotte if she paid an honest tithe. She responded, “Yes, President Andersen. My mother has taught me that there are temporal blessings and spiritual blessings that come from paying our tithing. My mother taught me that if we always pay our tithing, we will want for nothing. And President Andersen, we want for nothing.”
In giving me permission to share her story, Charlotte, now 45 and sealed in the temple, commented: “My testimony of tithing was very real at the time, and it is even stronger now. I am deeply grateful for this commandment. As I live it I continue to be abundantly blessed.”

Shadows wrapped the room in darkness as I lay awake listening to my husband breathe, trying to determine whether he was sleeping. It had been only two days since our 12-year-old daughter had passed away from a sudden traumatic accident. I closed my eyes again, but sleep evaded me. My heart yearned for my daughter. All the knowledge of the plan of salvation couldn’t ease the ache of missing her.
As dawn neared, I felt a sudden, intense longing. The sun would be rising soon, and in my mind I saw the sky bathed in soft pink light. Our daughter loved the color pink. A pink sunrise would be just the thing I needed to feel close to her again.
“Let’s go watch the sunrise,” I whispered to my drowsy husband.
We stood in the driveway, faced east, and waited … and waited. Though the sky lightened, the sun did not push through the low-lying clouds.
I leaned my head on my husband’s shoulder and sighed, trying to pretend it didn’t matter. But I wanted more. I needed more. Surely Heavenly Father could have granted me this desire after taking our sweet girl home to Him.
As my husband turned to go inside, looking behind us toward the west, he said, “Look!”
I turned. Behind us the clouds were bathed in a delicate blush, golden light surrounding them. My breath caught, and tears crept to my eyes. It was more beautiful than I could have imagined. It felt like a hug from our daughter. I knew Heavenly Father was aware of my aching heart and was sending a promise of hope for the future—a gentle reminder of eternal families and all the beautiful moments yet to come.
I have thought often on that beautiful moment and the new perspective it gave me. Who looks for a sunrise in the west? And yet that is where my miracle was waiting. How many blessings and miracles do I miss because they come from unexpected places? How many times do I focus on what I think should be and miss the glory of what is?
We had prayed relentlessly for a miracle that was denied, but as I looked around with my new perspective, I saw the miracle of the four lives bettered through our daughter’s organ donations, the miracle of family love and ward unity, and the miracle of service. I have felt deep sorrow, but I have also felt powerful hope fill my soul with each blushing sunrise, each rosy sunset, and each pink flower that crosses my path.
Now as the sun rises, I look east and then turn to look west. I smile with the realization that there are always miracles and blessings to be found—and that the sun will always rise on our sorrows if we let it.

By Ann-Sophie and Lawrence Cavin, Scotland, UK
Ann-Sophie: I always wanted to study at a university, but my plans about what to study changed a lot during my teenage years. After finishing high school, I volunteered in a hospital for six months. Since then I loved the idea of being a nurse, but I didn’t think I would be able to do it.
In my ward’s self-reliance class, we were asked to pick a job we would like to have even though we might not have the qualifications. I prayed about what to do, and nursing kept coming into my mind. I decided to follow the promptings of the Lord.
Pursuing this path hasn’t been easy. To get started, I researched the nursing program and what it would take for me to study. I talked to people who went through a similar process. The first time I applied to the nursing program, I was put on the waiting list. But I didn’t give up; I applied again and eventually got in. Sometimes you have to be patient and trust in the Lord as He has His own plan for you.

When I first met Uanci Kivalu, she was smiling broadly. But as she sat down and her tone turned serious, I wondered what this friendly 16-year-old would share. “My story is about the temple,” she said.
Uanci is from Tonga, an island nation filled with towering coconut trees, majestic banana trees, and broad taro plants. Most of the youth I had seen on the island seemed content with life, with smiles as broad as Uanci’s had been only moments before. Tongan youth her age like to dance, sing, play netball, and spend time with their families. They are generally a happy bunch. But Uanci’s seriousness was mixed with a deeper emotion I could not identify, and it surprised me.
“I want to talk about the temple,” she repeated.
“When I was growing up,” Uanci began, “my brothers and sister and I were members of the Church. We would attend church every Sunday with my mom. I loved the temple, and I loved going with the youth to do baptisms for the dead. I would feel the Spirit when we went there. But my dad wouldn’t come to church.”
Uanci’s voice began to quaver. I glanced up from my notepad and saw tears in her eyes.
“One day my little brother ’Alekisio had an injury in his hips that got infected,” she continued. “He got better for a while. And my dad came back to church. But then my dad fell away again.”
The tears were now streaming down Uanci’s face, and the tissue I handed her was immediately soaked, as were her sleeves, as she tried unsuccessfully to dry the tears.
“My little brother got worse, and then he died. He was only 12 years old.”
Uanci paused for a moment, overcome by her feelings, and I began to understand why she had been so serious. This young woman had already felt great tragedy in her life. But there was also a glimmer of hope shining through her eyes.
“Then,” she began again, “my dad finally decided to come back to church. At first, it was hard for him. Our bishop, leaders, relatives, and family encouraged him that the only way our family would be together again—to see my brother again—would be to be sealed in the temple.
“We struggled after my brother died,” Uanci continued. “But my parents worked hard and received their ordinances. Finally, we were sealed in the temple as a family on October 10, 2008, exactly one year after ’Alekisio died. My bishop stood in place of my little brother. It was the most indescribable feeling I ever felt.”
Uanci’s tears were not tears of sorrow but of joy. She and her family had been to the house of the Lord and were sealed in the temple, and she knew what that meant. If her family lives worthy of their covenants, they will be together forever.
As I think about Uanci, I imagine her walking across the Liahona campus, the Church-owned high school in Tonga that sits adjacent to the temple. As she walks, Uanci gazes over at the spire of the angel Moroni, its golden form glistening in the sun. There are tears in her eyes again, but she is also smiling, for she knows she will see ’Alekisio again.

When it was time for me to go on a mission, I was very excited to serve the Lord. Just before I was to leave, however, I found out that I had bone cancer. The chance of living long enough to serve a mission wasn’t very high. I had faith that the Lord would provide a way if he wanted me to go. My father gave me a blessing in which I was told that I would serve my mission in Mexico, serve in the Church all my life, and have a family. My right arm had to be amputated above the elbow, but my life was spared, and the promises I was given have all been fulfilled.

When Kate Hansen was 10 her father drove her to Slider Search, a local clinic being held for kids to try out for luge. “I tell people that luge is like bobsledding,” says Kate. “At the clinic, they set up hay bales and cones on the street and then let the kids ride a trainer sled with wheels down the course. I went through the cones without crashing. I remember it being really fun. Plus they wanted to see how well I took direction.”
As a result of the clinic, both Kate and her cousin were invited to come to Lake Placid, New York, where the national luge training facility is located. The first time Kate tried out a real sled on an ice course, she loved it. It was fast and fun. “It’s like a roller coaster but pretty relaxing. It’s very flowing.”
The whole idea that riding something going so fast, just inches from crashing into walls of ice, would hardly seem relaxing to most people. But this ability to relax while moving has been the secret to Kate’s success.
Her mother, Kathie, remembers seeing her go down a run for the first time. She says, “It’s nerve-racking when you watch your daughter go by, and she’s going so fast. I wondered, ‘What have we gotten into?’ The coaches don’t know how she does it. She can have a bad start, but as soon as she is through the first curve, she’s leading everyone because she’s settling in and relaxing and just feeling the curves.”
Her mother thinks the ability to relax might come from Kate’s skateboarding and surfing, two popular activities in La Cañada, California, where the Hansen family lives. “Kate used to lay down on her skateboard, going down the driveway with her ponytail dragging.”
While learning this new sport, Kate says, “I was just the girl from California who had her ukulele. Before races some people warm up by sitting in the corner, staying really focused. Others zone everyone out. Then there are those who listen to music and dance. I was one who danced and sang, trying to keep my mind off of what I was doing. That’s when I did well. I was just there for fun.”
Each year at the USA training facility, Kate is given a sled for the season. Last year she named her sled Ricardo—Ricky for short. “It’s your baby,” says Kate. “You take care of it.”
The sled is built to her size and can be adjusted slightly. “My sled is a lot different. I like it loose because it’s easier to steer. I did really well on it.” Kate does everything for her sled. She sands the steel runners. After races she puts oil on the steels so they won’t rust. She packs it carefully when traveling. “If you drop Ricky, you have to apologize,” she jokes.
Kate Hansen and her family haven’t had a real plan for her participation in luge. They seem to take and evaluate opportunities as they come. Heidi, Kate’s older sister, explains, “My brothers and I thought it was funny because she was luging, and no one really knows what that is. We thought she would only do it for a while, but then she would do well and get invited to train or to be on teams, so our family would say, ‘I guess she’ll move up.’”
Eventually Kate started to get noticed. In her first junior international competition at the junior level, she came in third, shocking everyone because she was so young and inexperienced. A few months later, at 15, she came in first at the Junior World Championship. She was only the third American to ever win. She now spends most of the winter months living with the team in Europe and competing on the Junior World Cup Tour. Her name has started rising to the top.
With the upcoming 2010 Winter Olympics, Kate will be invited to participate in the Olympic trials. There are only three slots on the team, and most of the competitors are much older. Kate finished sixth overall at the end of last season and looks forward to competing for a spot on the team. Whether she makes it or not, Kate has had fun participating and succeeding in luge, but it will not become the only focus in her life.
Kate’s mom and dad worry about their daughter’s keeping the right balance. “Mom didn’t want me to miss out on high school,” says Kate.
Kate is involved in school activities when she is home and maintains excellent grades. “Our goal is that she is going to college,” says her mother. “And her seminary teacher, Sister Frandsen, is kind enough to digitally record seminary every morning. We then e-mail the seminary recordings to Kate each week so she can listen to the classes. It is one of her spiritual foundations and a link to home when she is on the road.”
To help focus her goals, Kate has received her patriarchal blessing. In her blessing she was told that she would be watched by many people and would have missionary opportunities come to her.
Even so, Kate faces some hard situations when it comes to the party atmosphere that accompanies sports. It seems that drinking can become a stumbling point, especially when the team goes to Europe to compete. “After races, it’s party time. Everyone I met would drink. At first, I felt like the loner in the hotel. But I got over that feeling. My teammates knew better than to ask me to drink with them. After I won the worlds, my competitors would say, ‘Kate, you have to drink tonight.’ But I’d say no. My teammates would say, ‘No, she doesn’t drink. Don’t even ask.’”
Having a strong testimony is the bottom line for Kate. She is always excited to go to young women camp and youth conference with her stake. When asked about her favorite scripture, Kate mentions an experience she had while attending Especially for Youth. She hadn’t planned to bear her testimony, but then she had a feeling that someone there needed to hear what she had to say. She had been reading in her scriptures and had come upon Mosiah 8:18: “Thus God has provided a means that man, through faith, might work mighty miracles; therefore he becometh a great benefit to his fellow beings.”
Kate says, “I stood up and talked about my patriarchal blessing where it says I would be an example to others and people would be watching me. Now it’s my favorite scripture because it came as an answer to me.”
It seems that people are indeed watching Kate and what she chooses to do. At the end of the season, two of her teammates said they had stopped drinking because of her. “It was the biggest reward I have ever received,” says Kate.

The Davis County Sheriff’s Department received 100 teddy bears. Captain Simpson said it is policy now for a paramedic or a sheriff on a call to give any child involved under the age of ten a bear. However, young children have not been the only recipients. The paramedics gave a bear to an 80-year-old woman who suffered a stroke. “It was the only thing that calmed her down,” said Captain Simpson. “She wouldn’t let go of the bear.”

When I reflect on the race of life, I remember another type of race, even from childhood days. When I was about ten, my boyfriends and I would take pocketknives in hand and, from the soft wood of a willow tree, fashion small toy boats. With a triangular-shaped cotton sail in place, each would launch his crude craft in the race down the relatively rough waters of the Provo River. We would run along the river’s bank and watch the tiny vessels sometimes bobbing violently in the swift current and at other times sailing serenely as the water deepened.

During one such race, we noted that one boat led all the rest toward the finish line. Suddenly, the current carried it too close to a large whirlpool, and the boat leaned over on its side and capsized. Around and around it was carried, unable to make its way back into the main current. At last it came to an uneasy rest at the end of the pool, amid the other wreckage that surrounded it, held fast by the grasping, green moss.

The toy boats of childhood had no keel for stability, no rudder to provide direction, and no source of power. Inevitably their destination was downstream—the path of least resistance.

On Thursday 19 May 2022, we had a temple trip for service missionaries. Sadly, not all the missionaries could attend—but for those that could, it was a wonderful time in a sacred place.
The sun was out, and the grounds were beautiful. Being new to the mission at the time, it was good for me to meet some more missionaries.
I still feel nervous every time I go to the temple and get left alone, or even with another person my age, almost as if we are left unsupervised! But I love the feeling I get when I’m in the temple with other service missionaries (though as wonderful as the elders are, I’d definitely like more sisters in the mission!).
The temple brings a peace to my heart, even when I don’t understand everything that is going on around me. I know that Heavenly Father has a plan for us, and we won’t understand everything in this life—but that we can also bring any questions we have to Heavenly Father. He loves us and He is there for us, no matter what.
Elder and Sister Kimberling, the service mission leaders, brought a picnic style lunch for us to have afterwards. I love that they are always there to take care of us missionaries, whenever we need. They are the best. I had a wonderful time with everyone and hope that sometime soon everyone in the mission can enjoy the temple together.

Olivia heard a big word in Primary. Later she asked Daddy, “What does Restoration mean?”
“I’ll show you,” Daddy said. He stacked blocks on top of each other.
“When Jesus was on earth, He taught people to love each other and keep God’s commandments,” Daddy said. “And He set up His Church.”
“But then Jesus died. Some people stopped believing His teachings.” Daddy pushed the blocks over.
“So after a while, Jesus’s Church was gone,” Daddy said.
“That’s sad,” said Olivia.
“Don’t worry,” Daddy said. He started stacking blocks again. “Jesus asked someone to help bring back His teachings.”
“That helper was Joseph Smith. He helped restore, or bring back, Jesus’s Church.”
“Now the Church of Jesus Christ is on the earth once again. That’s what Restoration means.”
“And best of all,” Daddy said, “we can go to that Church every Sunday.”
“I’m glad I can go to Jesus’s Church!” Olivia said.

As my body hit the gym floor, a flood of mixed feelings swept through me. A numbing pain throbbed in my left temple, and I wanted to punch something … or somebody—number 11 in the black jersey, to be specific.
It had been a great game, the kind of Church basketball game that you look forward to telling college roommates about years later. We were the undersized, undermanned underdogs. Our opponents were priests, but they looked like men, sporting beards and bowling-ball-sized biceps. For three quarters they had manhandled us, and yet somehow the scoreboard showed us deadlocked at 33. Our pint-sized crew was still in the game.
After making a quick layup to tie the game, I was tightly guarding an opponent to prevent him from catching the inbounds pass when I saw number 11—all six feet four, 225 pounds of him. Suddenly, a massive elbow crashed into my head, sending me sprawling onto the carpeted gym floor.
And now, every fiber of my being wanted to hit him back. I got up quickly and glared at the giant, with every intention of sending a message of my own. He stood there, stone-faced, ready for a fight if that were the case. My natural inclination screamed at me to deck him.
But my eyes then focused past him to a poster on the wall. Our stake president had requested that a scripture be placed on the gym wall during the basketball season. The poster had part of Mosiah 18:9 on it: “To stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in.”
The words hit me harder than his elbow had. I, a priesthood holder, was responsible to stand as a witness of God at all times and in all places, not just on Sunday, not just at the sacrament table or in seminary. My actions portrayed my beliefs, no matter where I was or who was watching me.
We ended up losing that game. But before I left the court, I found number 11. I reached out my hand, and he shook it briefly. “Good game,” I told him, and I headed down the hall. We lost that game, but for the first time I felt I had truly won.

Derek, 11, recalled: “Once when our Primary was preparing for the Children’s Sacrament Meeting Presentation, the Primary president talked to us for a few minutes. She told us that we were children of god. She explained how Primary teaches us that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love us and how we can learn to love them. She talked about how Primary helps us to know and live the gospel. As she was speaking, a sensation came over me—a really warm, good feeling—and I knew that what she was saying is true.”

When Etienne Marakavi arrived in South Africa at the age of 25, he had no family, no home, and very little money.
Having lost his parents and survived many civil war atrocities in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, he left the country by himself on foot. At 19 years old, he began an epic journey, travelling from country to country in pursuit of a new home. He stayed in refugee camps along the way, relying on donated food and shelter to survive.
Eventually, Etienne found himself in Norway. There, he had the life-changing experience of meeting the missionaries and joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. But a fruitless attempt to gain asylum status meant that after some time, he was forced to leave. “I went to Rwanda, Uganda, and then Kenya,” said Etienne, “where I was advised to leave the country. Then I moved to Tanzania, where I was told the country does not accept asylum seekers. I moved to Malawi, where I unsuccessfully tried to apply for asylum, and I had to leave due to the harsh conditions of life. I managed to slip through Mozambique, where I got mugged and robbed.” He made it to Tongogara, a refugee camp in Zimbabwe. But the conditions in the camp were extremely harsh and “hopeless,” said Etienne, so he left again—this time bound for South African shores.
Because he had found the Church, he had something he didn’t previously: a testimony. But his temporal circumstances were dire.
“I had every expectation of being homeless for several years,” says Etienne.
And in the beginning, he was. He joined a group of homeless people on the streets of a small border town called Musina and lived on discarded food to stay alive.
But some months later he managed to travel to Johannesburg. There, he gradually started finding menial jobs. Now, a few years later, he pays his own rent, has completed his high-school certificate, recently finished the Church-sponsored distance-learning “Pathway” programme, and is now registered with BYU–Idaho to earn a degree in computer science. He has also remained active and faithful in the Church, currently serving as the ward assistant clerk.
Etienne shares the three biggest things he learned about self-reliance in this extraordinary journey, and his answers show an understanding that self-reliance permeates every part of our lives. “People should not confuse the topic of self-reliance with self-sufficiency,” he says. “I firmly believe that self-reliance involves both spiritual and temporal aspects of people’s lives.”
His three personal lessons are:
“What I first learned about the principle of self-reliance is to always rely on the Lord through the basic routines such as morning prayers and daily scripture studies while I am trying to achieve the goals that I set out,” says Etienne. “Self-reliance in this case means to have faith in the Lord and at that time I am exercising the free agency that the Lord bestowed upon me”.
“The second thing I learned is the ability to seek help that will impact your life positively in the long run both temporally and spiritually,” says Etienne. “In other words, you better learn to ask people to teach you how to fish, rather than constantly asking people to give you the fish.”
When he first arrived in South Africa, Etienne remembers the struggle of meeting basic financial obligations. “It was really very difficult,” he said. But as he battled through these challenges and asked for help when he needed it, he always kept in mind his end goal: “finding a job so that I could take care of myself.”
“The third thing that I learned about self-reliance is the ability to help others to become in their turn self-reliant,” says Etienne. “We all are gifted in one way or another, and we can use our gifts to help and bless others so that they too, in their turn, can even help many more. By empowering our fellow beings, we learn and enrich our lives in the process.”
Above all, Etienne’s faith in the Lord helps him maintain perspective through the tough times. “I think my trials are small compared to what Joseph Smith and the early Church pioneers went through,” he says. “In the trying moments, I always try to remember the words that God told the Prophet Joseph Smith while he was in Liberty Jail, as recorded in Doctrine and Covenants 122:
“If thou art called to pass through tribulation; if thou art in perils among false brethren; if thou art in perils among robbers; if thou art in perils by land or by sea; . . .
“. . . And above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good. . . .
“. . . Therefore, fear not what man can do, for God shall be with you forever and ever” (verses 5, 7, 9).