Gospel Story Finder

Ben stood with his friends after school in the hot sun as they waited for the bus home. He wished for the thousandth time that there was some shade at the bus stop!
“Hey, here comes Frankie,” one of his friends said. Frankie was part of their group.
“Dude, your shoes are so old they must’ve been made out of dinosaur skin!” Vince said once Frankie got closer.
Ben laughed at the joke as he glanced down at Frankie’s feet. Yup, his friend had on the same pair of tennis shoes he’d worn all school year. It was almost summer vacation. By now, the ratty shoes had holes in them and were falling apart.
They liked to give him a hard time about it, but Frankie always laughed it off.
Sure enough, Frankie was chuckling along with everybody else. But then Ben noticed something he hadn’t seen before. Frankie’s smile seemed different somehow. Like he was trying to cover up that he really was upset.
Something cold turned in Ben’s stomach.
His friends teased Frankie about the old shoes until the bus rolled up. This time, though, Ben didn’t laugh with them. He couldn’t help but feel like they’d hurt Frankie’s feelings.
As Ben plopped down onto the hot green vinyl seat of the school bus, he kept remembering the look on Frankie’s face from a few minutes earlier. Frankie walked to the back of the bus and chose a seat by himself.
Ben looked down at his lap. Had they gone too far? He knew Frankie’s family didn’t have a lot of money. In fact, now he wondered if those old scuffed shoes were his only pair besides church shoes.
Even though Ben had snagged a window seat on the bus, he couldn’t enjoy the ride home.
The next day Ben’s bad feeling grew worse. He thought about how he would feel if his friends made fun of what he wore. How often had they done that to Frankie?
And then he saw his friend at school. Ben’s eyes widened. Frankie was wearing new shoes! Not just new shoes, but cool new shoes. Ben felt another stab of guilt as he wondered if Frankie’s family could afford them.
At recess he grabbed a basketball and went over to shoot some hoops with Frankie. “So, where’d you buy those shoes?” Ben asked. “They’re awesome!”
Frankie shook his head and said quietly, “I didn’t. DJ bought them for me.”
Ben nearly dropped the basketball. DJ was one of the kids they hung out with at school. A kid who, now that Ben thought about it, never teased Frankie.
While the rest of them had made fun of Frankie, DJ did something nice instead.
I’m supposed to be Frankie’s friend, Ben thought. Why hadn’t I been nice too?
Ben cleared his throat and stopped bouncing the ball. “Hey. So, um, I’m really sorry about yesterday. You know. At the bus stop. That wasn’t nice of us.”
Frankie just shrugged. “It’s OK.”
“Hey, wanna play a game of one-on-one?” He passed the ball to Frankie. “You can start!”
Frankie’s face lit up in a smile, and Ben knew how he wanted to act from then on. He wanted to help make his friends happy every chance he could.

Jackeline Martinez Roman of the Colon Ward, Quito Ecuador Colon Stake, was recently selected as second runner-up in the Miss Quito contest, part of the annual celebration of Ecuador’s capital. She was nominated by her employers. Jackeline, along with the girls selected as Miss Quito and first runner-up, will spend time during the year raising funds for the elderly and underprivileged and attending activities sponsored by the city.
Jackeline hopes her new position will offer some good opportunities for missionary work. In fact, Miss Quito and the first runner-up have already asked about the Church and its beliefs, and Jackeline was happy to explain.
Although born in Ecuador, Jackeline lived for nine years in Maryland in the United States, where she attended school. She has served as seminary president and as a teacher in the Primary and Sunday School, and she is presently serving as Primary secretary.

The newly varnished hardwood floor resounds with the pounding of 20 feet and the intermittent squeaking of sneakers as someone does a quick pivot or makes a sudden stop. There is the normal assortment of shouts (“Over here!” “That’s the way!”) as the players put all their effort into the last crucial minutes of the closely scoring game. Suddenly the orange orb makes a satisfying swish as it falls, seemingly effortlessly, through the net at one end of the court, and as the buzzer jangles, a happy shout echoes through the gymnasium. The winning team crowds around the maker of the last-minute basket, hugging and congratulating each other.
Sound familiar? It would, if the shouts of joy weren’t decidedly high-pitched and feminine and if the hero was not a blonde, blue-eyed, and also decidedly feminine girl named Mechelle Hill.
Mechelle may be used to the fanfare of victory, but she doesn’t show any selfish pride as she rejoices with her teammates now. Her face is flushed with exertion, and she brushes her long hair off her shoulders to cool them, but her expression is not weary.
She is still not weary later as she sits in the shade outside the physical education building at the University of Utah, where she is participating in a girl’s basketball camp. This morning they had divided into teams for a tournament; this morning Mechelle had also been chosen to be on the camp’s all-star team, which included many other top high school athletes. It is the final day of the week-long activity, but Mechelle is going strong and is just a bit anxious to get back to the courts. “I like to be up and around, doing things,” she smiles.
The bright blue eyes sparkle a little as she says that, for few things could be truer. The Gunnison Valley (Utah) High School senior had just completed a first-in-state season on the basketball team, had captained a second-in-state softball team, and had been a star participant on the volleyball and track teams. If that weren’t enough, she had graced the boys’ games as well as she high-stepped to the band music at halftime as captain of the drill team. She doesn’t recite all her accomplishments at once but remembers them sporadically with an “Oh, yeah—” and a bit of surprise that anyone would be interested. “I just like to be active,” she grins in surprise at the lengthy list. And there is still more she will not remember until later, when her proud mother reminds her.
It is apparent, talking to Mechelle for the first time, that she has learned about more than slow-pitching and free throws in the course of her competition. She speaks of the excitement of winning, the sense of exhilaration when energies are spent and you’ve done your very best. But more than that, she emphasizes the personal growth that can be had from working together with a group of people for a common goal, of giving of yourself freely. Gospel principles come through as the conversation progresses and it becomes clear that multi-talented Mechelle has developed a philosophy to help her make the best of this expanding, exciting world of women’s sports. “A woman, especially, has to keep her perspective and remember who she is,” says Mechelle seriously. “You can still play basketball and be feminine.” She is living proof of that.
If Mechelle is a unique person, perhaps it is because of her unique position in her family. She is the third oldest of six children—and the only girl. Her father, Bruce, played basketball for BYU, and older brothers Jeff, 20 (now on a mission), and Greg, 18, set a precedent of athletic prowess. The year that Mechelle was a junior, Greg was a senior—and was voted the most outstanding basketball player on the boys’ team. He was also high scorer in the state tournament, in which his team placed fourth. Mechelle was high scorer in her own tournament, and the brother-sister team scored over 200 points in that small stretch of time. Younger brothers Ronnie, 15, Richard, 13, and Bryant, 11, show every indication of following suit.
Following in Mechelle’s footsteps would require a very busy agenda. As well as school sports, she likes to play tennis (“Especially on dates!”), water ski, and swim. Fall brings pheasant hunting (she outscored her brothers on a gun safety test) and dirt-bike riding in the canyons surrounding Gunnison. School itself is fun for Mechelle, who not surprisingly likes PE classes best, but she also enjoys home economics. In fact, she was elected president of the Future Homemakers of America chapter at Gunnison Valley High. Cooking and drawing “are a couple of the few things I will sit down for,” she laughs.
Competition does not take up all of Mechelle’s time and energy. “Winning is important,” she says, “only because it makes you want to do your best. Winning isn’t everything. If you play your hardest and still lose, then that is the way it was meant to be. You’ve got to learn from your experience.”
Learning, not only about the game but about people, is perhaps the best thing about playing on a team, believes Mechelle. “It helps you to get to know other people and to work with them, even though you might be shy. I was a delegate to Girls’ State last year, and I didn’t know a soul. I found my experience in team sports helped me to get involved.”
Team sports for girls are often criticized because of the feelings of rivalry between teams and the harsh attitudes that sometimes develop. Mechelle recognizes this and has learned to cope with it: “Some girls do get ‘tough’—there is a lot of strain and tension. But our basketball team, which is all LDS, tries to keep its cool. Once there was an awful lot of tension in a game, and we all felt it. Afterwards, I said, ‘Hey, you guys, let’s go talk to them.’ Now we’re really good friends with that team.”
The breeze lifts her hair away from her face, which is cooling as she catches her breath. She describes the special relationship her basketball team had, and though she is still animated, there is a serenity about her soft-featured face.
“We would say a prayer before every one of our games, and I would kneel beside my bed before I went, too. I could really feel the Spirit. At our last championship game, we said our prayer, and the Spirit was so strong that we all started crying. Things like that bring us closer together, and we are just like one person playing out on the floor.”
The girl who minutes before was bounding down the basketball court is now a little pensive as she leans her chin in her hands. “I see people in wheelchairs and I feel so blessed. I think if God gives you a talent you should use it; I’m so grateful for what I have, and I hope I can serve people in some way.”
Suddenly her features are lighted up again as she sits straight. “One way I am able to serve is in teaching Junior Sunday School. I’ve got the four-year-olds, and they’re so special! I really love little kids. I’d like to have at least four of my own, and have them grow up together the way my brothers and I did.” Suddenly the interview time is over, and as quickly as she appeared she is bouncing down the stairs back to the basketball court.
The Hill living room in Gunnison is cool and calm after the helter-skelter of the basketball camp, but Mechelle is still as vivacious. In one corner is a lace-covered table on which are propped pictures, trophies, portraits, and certificates collected by the family in the past few years; examination reveals many team photos of both sexes and of several sports. And there are snapshots of the Hill family, who seem to function as a team—without the competitors.
Out in the heat of a southern Utah midday, a box elder in the backyard flutters its leaves and casts a flickering shadow across a large cement square that has been a project of this special ‘team.’ Sister Hill promises that it will soon be a mini basketball court.
“We like to do and accomplish things together,” says Mechelle as she kneels on the grass to play with the family’s three dogs. “We have a camper up in the canyon that we use as a home base for dirt-bike riding, and we like to go skiing and golfing as a family.”
“It’s a lot of fun,” agrees Sister Hill. “Even when it’s hectic, we try to support them in all of their activities. One day we drove over 400 miles to attend both Greg and Mechelle’s tournament games! We feel we have really good relationships.”
Perhaps it was in this family setting that Mechelle first learned what teamwork means. Wherever that lesson was learned, home was the place where she began “never sitting still” as she played with her five brothers. “We always played running games, like cops and robbers, and later we’d shoot baskets and play catch,” she remembers.
As time went on, it became apparent that not only the male members of the Hill clan were endowed with athletic ability. When she entered high school and expressed an interest in basketball, her mother was wary. “It took me about a year to get used to the idea,” admits Sister Hill. “I guess I wanted her to be a dancer or something. But now (she looks at her daughter with pride), we can really see her talent and are thrilled about her success. And her brothers have gained a new respect for her.”
“They’re so funny,” giggles Mechelle. “At one of my games I had a foul called on me, and Greg jumped up and yelled at the ref, ‘That’s my sister, and she doesn’t make fouls!’”
If the brothers had any reservations about having a basketball star for a sister, they don’t now. Perhaps it is because she is still the generous, helpful sister she always has been, and sports have not made her lose that spark of lively femininity she has always had. And it has helped, not hindered, her eternal outlook. “A lot of girls would like to be professionals, and quite often I think it detracts from their desires for a family. Up until a couple of years ago, I kind of wanted to be a pro too, but I’d never do it at the expense of my family.”
It has altered one thing, though, and that is that Mechelle would like to marry an athletic man. “I’d like him to be involved in sports,” she smiles, “but not necessarily professional.” She enjoys dates with boys who play tennis and other coed sports and says that both have fun “no matter who wins!”
But marriage seems a little far away now as she enjoys another year of high school. After graduation she plans to attend college and major in—what else?—physical education.
Mechelle is excited about what the next few years will hold, both on the courts and off. She is a winner in more ways than one.

We all have heroes, particularly when we are young. I was born and grew up in Princeton, New Jersey, in the United States. The most famous sports teams near where we lived were headquartered in New York City. It was the home of three professional baseball teams in those faraway days: the Brooklyn Dodgers, the New York Giants, and the New York Yankees. Philadelphia was even closer to our home and was the home of the Athletics and the Phillies baseball teams. There were many potential baseball heroes for me on those teams.
Joe DiMaggio, who played for the New York Yankees, became my baseball hero. When my brothers and my friends played baseball on the school grounds next to our house, I tried to swing the bat the way I thought Joe DiMaggio did it. That was before the days of television (this is ancient history), so I only had pictures from newspapers to use to copy his swing.
When I was growing up, my father drove me to Yankee Stadium. That was the only time I saw Joe DiMaggio play. As if I am still there, in my mind I can see him swing the bat and see the white baseball fly straight into the stands at center field.
Now, my baseball skills never came close to those of my childhood hero. But the few times I hit a baseball well, I copied the level of his powerful swing as closely as I could.
When we choose heroes, we begin to copy, consciously or unconsciously, what we admire most in them.

One of my friends, a successful merchant, shared with me the greatest secret of his personal success—and it’s not his selling ability. He discovered it one day when the phone rang while he was helping one customer with another waiting to be helped. The clerk said, “I think it’s your wife, Ralph.”
“Hello, Ralph,” said a voice on the other end. “How are you?”
“Fine, dear, but terribly busy. What’s wrong? Why are you calling me?”
There was a short pause. Then, unhappily Betty said, “I just wanted to hear a grown-up’s voice for a change. Sorry I bothered you when you were so busy.”
Ralph loved Betty, he said he loved her more than anything else in the world, but suddenly he realized that Betty was home with four children under the age of 5, chattering, playing, quarreling, but always needing her. She was busy too—and frustrated.
Wisely Ralph took time right then to apologize, and tell Betty how much he loved her, assure her she could call him anytime, and invite her to go out to dinner that evening with him.
Ralph’s discovery? “Since Betty is the most important person in the world to me, she also deserves first claim on my time. Since I’ve learned to give it to her, she’s happier. I’m happier, and both of us can do our jobs better.”

Tauna May of the Groveland First Ward, Blackfoot Idaho Stake, has won the Ruth Sayer Phoenix Young Artist Competition Award. She performed as a piano soloist with the Idaho State Civic Symphony.
Tauna commented about her performance with the symphony. “I auditioned for four years before being chosen as a soloist and, believe me, the wait was worth it. I love being an LDS youth because it sets us apart, makes us special. There are so many, many temptations in the way of our eternal goal. The Church is there; the plan is all laid out. All we have to do is follow it like we follow the notes and markings on sheet music; and our life, like our piece, will turn out beautifully.”

Craig MacDonald carefully eased his bad leg out of the car and slowly stood up. “Take your time; we’ve got plenty of time,” Wayne, his home teaching companion assured him as they walked slowly across the parking lot into one of the Heritage Hall apartment buildings and up the stairs to room 201.
A freckled girl opened the door. “Our home teachers are here,” she called out. “Clear the deck.”
They walked inside to the kitchen area. Wayne introduced Craig to the girls in the apartment. “Craig is new in the branch this summer. This is his first time at the Y.”
Craig listened while Wayne gave the lesson; he told about an experience he had on his mission.
“Have you been on a mission?” one of the girls asked Craig.
“No,” he answered quickly.
The girl nervously shot a glance at his leg and blushed.
“Well, girls, is there anything we can do for you as home teachers?” Wayne asked, changing the subject.
“No, we’re all getting along fine,” one of them replied.
After the lesson, Wayne and the girls talked about school and Church activities while Craig sat quietly, his eyes fixed vacantly on the opposite wall. One of the girls looked nervously at the clock and excused herself to get ready for a date. Soon another girl left for the library. Wayne started to get up to leave.
“Now don’t run off without some cake. I made it especially for you two. We always have some treat when the home teachers come,” one of the girls insisted. She was blonde, overweight, and outwardly almost jolly. The other girls called her “Mom.”
“I’ve got to be going,” Wayne replied. “Craig, you can stay if you want, but I’ve got to pick up my date. Is it okay if I just leave now? Can you get back to the apartment all right?”
“Yes.”
Wayne left after the prayer. “How do you like it here at summer school?” the girl who had made the cake asked.
“Okay.”
Another girl excused herself to answer the door. She didn’t come back to the kitchen.
The two sat in silence eating the cake.
Would you like another piece of cake?” she asked.
“Okay.”
She got up and cut two additional pieces of cake for them. Halfway through the second piece she said, “I really shouldn’t be eating this.”
“Then why are you?”
“What?”
“You said you shouldn’t be eating the second piece. Then why are you?”
“What kind of a question is that?”
“You’re already overweight.”
“Thanks, you’ve really brightened my day.”
“Don’t you have any self-discipline?”
“Don’t you have any manners?” she asked sharply.
“No, I guess not.” He grabbed the edge of the table to help him as he got up. She looked away from him in embarrassment as he laboriously boosted himself up. In the process he knocked a plastic glass onto the floor. She rushed to the spot and wiped up the spilled water.
“I’m sorry about the glass.”
“Don’t be; it’s nothing.”
“Can I help you?”
“No, it’s all done,” she said, standing up.
“Are you embarrassed about my leg?” he asked.
“No.”
“Then why did you look away when I got up?”
“I don’t know.”
“I embarrass people. All I have to do is enter a room and people start looking at the floor and mothers grab their children to stop them from pointing.”
On his way out, she opened the door to her room and showed him the large poster-size picture of a young man wearing a white shirt and dark tie.
“That’s my missionary,” she said. “Elder Kirby Jackson of the Dakota-Manitoba Mission. I took his picture and sent it in to be blown up to poster size.”
She walked into the room, while he paused in the hall. “These are his letters,” she said pointing to a couple of shoe boxes on her desk. “I’m keeping his journal for him.”
“Is that a picture of you with him before his mission?” Craig asked, looking at a slender girl with flowing blonde hair standing beside a tanned 19-year-old guy on a Honda.
“Yeah,” she answered. “I’ve put on a little weight since that picture was taken.”
“How much? Forty pounds?”
“You were on your way out. I shouldn’t keep you.”
He said good-bye to the only other girl in the apartment and walked out. The blonde came out with him.
“I forgot your name,” he said.
“Paula Miller.”
“Good-bye, Paula.” He started slowly down the stairs.
“Let me walk with you,” she asked.
“I don’t need your help.”
“I know, but is it okay if I come for a little while?”
“Why?”
“I can’t face another Friday night in that place alone.”
They made their way outside. He walked slowly; several couples passed them on the sidewalk heading for the Wilkinson Center.
“It’s 30 pounds, not 40 pounds, that I’ve put on since he left.”
“I was pretty close,” he replied.
“He’s coming home at the end of the summer. Last week he wrote and asked me to send him a picture. My roommate and I tried all day to get a pose that wouldn’t give me away. It was useless.”
“What did you do?”
“I sent him a picture of me that was taken before he left on his mission.”
“‘We believe in being honest.’”
“Okay, it wasn’t honest. But I can’t let him know until I have to.”
They waited for the traffic light to change so they could go.
“He wrote back and said I hadn’t changed a bit,” she added.
The light changed, and they started across. About halfway across, the light changed again. The line of cars waited while they got across.
“Quit eating cake,” Craig said.
“That’s easy to say. On the weekend all my roommates have dates, and I’m all alone in the kitchen. I usually decide to fix a little snack for them when they get back. Sometimes it’s all gone before they return.
“At first I ate because I missed him. Now I eat because I’m depressed that I’m fat. The more depressed I get, the more I eat.”
They walked into the Harris Fine Arts Building and looked at some artwork on the first floor.
“When people talk about me anymore they say, ‘She has a sweet spirit.’ That’s the only part of me that’s not overweight.”
“Can’t you date until he comes back?”
“I’ve dated. After the second date, l make my little speech about waiting for a missionary and can’t we be friends.”
They stopped in front of a large oil painting.
“He asks me about Kirby and tells me how much he admires any girl who will wait for a missionary. Then he takes me to the door and shakes my hand. I never hear from him again. The kids in the branch know I’m waiting, and nobody asks me out any more.”
“Are you going back later and finish off the rest of the cake?” Craig asked.
“You’re really something, you know that? Do you act this suave with other girls?”
“There haven’t been many other girls. My mother’s a widow, and she feels it’s her duty to protect me so I won’t get hurt.”
“I couldn’t imagine anybody could ever hurt you,” Paula said.
“Last year when all my friends went away to school, I stayed home and took correspondence courses.
“She kept saying that if I went to college I’d slip on the ice and not even be able to walk at all.”
They left the building and continued walking in the warm summer evening.
“Finally I talked her into letting me come in the summer, but she still follows the weather report to warn me if any sudden storm blows in. And she calls me all the time and asks me if I’m ready to come home.”
“You do okay,” she said.
“It’s not the walking that’s hard. It’s being around so many people. I spent my high school years in a back bedroom reading old Life magazines. Sometimes here I don’t want to leave the apartment and go to class because people will look at me. I just want to stay in the nice room and hide.”
They sat down by the reflecting pool in front of the administration building.
“What do you suppose people think when they see you with me?” he asked. “Do you imagine they admire you for being so noble?”
“Is that why you think I’m with you? To be noble?”
“Yeah. Or is it my charming personality?”
She ignored the question.
“Can you picture me on a mission?” he asked her.
“No. Not because of your leg really, but I think you’d scare people.”
“I can’t picture myself on a mission either,” he said. “But my bishop at home can. He even got me an appointment with a specialist who gave me some exercises. The specialist thought I could complete a mission if I worked at getting stronger.”
They stood up and began to walk toward the library.
“I started on the exercises, but my mother told me that there were plenty of ‘healthy young men’ who could go on missions without sending me. She said I’d only drag my companions down because I wouldn’t be able to keep up with them. Soon after that I quit the exercises.
“Maybe she was right,” Paula said.
“Maybe. I hope she’s not always right. She told me I’d be better off staying home instead of coming here this summer. If I don’t make it this summer in school, then I go back home. This may be my only chance to prove that I can cope with life.”
He stopped and turned to her. “Will you help me?”
“How can I help you?” Paula said.
“Teach me how to get along with people. I don’t know how to dance. I don’t know how to talk to girls very well. I’m always saying something wrong. If you’ll help me, I’ll help you lose weight.
“You know I can’t get involved.”
“We could not get involved together. Just for the summer until your missionary gets back.”
Monday they went to the health center to get advice on a diet for Paula and discuss exercises to strengthen Craig’s leg.
On the way back she went ahead of him half a block and sat down to watch him walk.
“Well?” he asked.
“You carry an apology on your face, you know that? And you lower your head when someone approaches you on the sidewalk. Are you embarrassed that they should have to see you?”
“How should I walk?”
“With style, like you have something to offer the world.”
“What do I have to offer the world?”
“Whatever you decide, H.T.” she said, calling him H.T. for home teacher. “By the way, have you got any money?”
“I’m loaded. Why?”
“I’m going to make you a legend in your own time. Let’s walk downtown and get you some clothes.”
It took them two hours to get to the store. They passed a small grocery store on the way, and he bought them two cucumbers. They borrowed a knife from the lady at the counter, sliced the cucumbers, and ate them on the way.
“You like that?” he asked her. “That’s lunch.”
She had the salesman at the store get his measurements, and then she picked out some clothes. She picked out a pair of wine-colored check slacks, a wine-colored blazer, and a new tie.
“How’s this?” she asked him. “Great for a used car salesman. But I like gray.”
“What do you want, camouflage?”
“Gray is conservative,” he said.
“You’re 19 years old. Wear gray when you’re 40, not now. Will you wear it if I show you how to wear clothes with style?”
He bought her a notebook, and she wrote down everything she ate each day. At noon they met in the cafeteria for a light lunch. At that time he looked at her notebook and went item by item through all the food she had eaten during the past 24 hours. She began to lose weight.
At first they walked two miles a day. One day they decided to walk four miles.
“H.T., how many times have I got to tell you? Straighten up. You look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame.”
“My leg hurts. Can we call a taxi?”
“You’re the one who said four miles, remember?”
She started to walk away from him. He followed after her.
“Quit walking away from me!” he demanded.
“Keep up with me. The tough get going when the going gets tough.”
“Is that something your missionary friend at Dead Fish wrote?”
“It’s Deadwood and Spearfish, not Dead Fish. Yeah, he wrote that. Why?”
“It’s the dumbest thing I ever heard in my life.”
“Yeah? Says who?”
“Says me.”
“You wanna fight?” she asked.
“What weight class? Heavyweight?” he taunted.
“Not anymore, H. T. I’m losing.”
“Well, quit walking away from me.”
“No. If you want to be babied, go home to your mother. It’s a cold, cruel world, H.T.”
They were in a residential area of the town. She maintained about a 30-foot lead, not looking back.
A young boy was watering the lawn with a hand sprayer. “Could I borrow your hose to get my friend a drink?” The boy handed him the hose. He adjusted the spray so it sent out a narrow burst of water. He directed it at Paula who was still walking in front of him, not looking back, barking out commands for him to hurry up.
“Aahhhhh!” she screamed when the spray caught her in the back.
There were days when they didn’t mention her missionary, days when they walked in the hot summer sun together, sometimes holding hands. There were days when they talked about themselves. He told her about the comic books his uncle had given him when he was eight. They were Captain Marvel comic books about a crippled newsboy who becomes the world’s strongest man merely by saying “SHAZAM.” He talked about how he used to dream that he was that newsboy, and how he would wake up at night from a dream screaming “SHAZAM!”
There were nights during the weekend when they danced. She taught him every dance she knew. Sometimes she danced close to him on the slow dances.
He always knew when she’d received a letter from Kirby because she drew away from him, becoming more harsh with him.
“Go ask someone else to dance, H.T.”
“No. I don’t want to.”
“Look, you have to. It’d be better if you got to know other girls.”
“I don’t want to know other girls.”
“Maybe I won’t always be around for you.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning Elder Kirby Jackson is coming back.”
“Who’s he? I’ve forgotten all about him.”
“H.T., go dance. I’ll dance every second dance with you.”
He went and asked another girl to dance.
When he came back, she asked as clinically as she could, “Why didn’t you talk to her? We’ve gone through how to talk to girls.”
“Paula, do you mind? Can’t you treat me like a person instead of some project you’re doing for extra credit?”
He told her he didn’t want to dance for a while, and he asked her to come with him to the outdoor overlook on top of the Wilkinson Center. She seemed hesitant but finally went with him.
“Have you been here before?” he asked her as they looked out across the campus.
“Yes. Once.”
“With him?”
“Can you tell?”
“He’s like a ghost that follows me around all over the campus,” he said.
“We came here on our last date before he went into the missionary home.”
“What did he say that night?” Craig asked.
“He said, ‘I hope you’ll wait because I love you.’”
“That’s what he said, huh? How did he say it? Paula, I love you.”
“Can we go back to the dance?” Paula asked nervously.
“No, I’ve got to practice. I want to get it just right. With style. You’re very big on style, aren’t you? Paula, I love you.”
He grabbed her hand. “Did he hold your hand? Paula, I love you. Or did he put his arm around you?”
“My heart isn’t a yo-yo, H. T. Please stop.”
“No. I’ve got to know how he said it. How can a guy say three words, go to Salt Lake, get on a plane, fly away, and leave you standing here for two years, waiting for him to get back?”
“Do we have to put ourselves through this?” she asked.
“What if I told you that I love you?”
“We said we weren’t going to get involved.”
“Is it the wrong accent, or should I say it louder? Paula, I love you.”
“Craig, I’m the only girl you’ve ever known. How do you know you love me?”
“The next thing you say is ‘Can’t we just be friends?’ Don’t say it. I need you, Paula. I can’t make it without you.”
She backed away from him, tears beginning to form. “Oh no! What have I gotten myself into?” She turned suddenly and ran for the stairs. He started after her, yelling at her to stop. But he was only halfway down when he saw her run outside. He sat down on the stairs and buried his head in his hands.
Sunday after church he met with her and apologized.
That night when he got home, he was told that his bishop from his home ward had called long distance for him. When Craig returned the call, the bishop asked him again about a mission.
“I don’t think so. Not now.”
“Physically how are you doing?”
“Better. We’re walking five miles a day.”
“We?”
“This girl and me.”
“Oh. Look, Craig, I’m sending you a copy of the missionary lessons. Why don’t you look them over.”
Paula read the lessons over to find out what Kirby was teaching. They decided to try and memorize parts of the first discussion while they walked. One of them would hold the lessons while the other tried to repeat the lesson plan from memory.
The last dance they went to before Kirby was scheduled to be released from his mission, they were both quiet. During one of the slow dances, he realized he was trying to remember everything about her, the scent of her hair, the warmth of her next to him. She was more beautiful than the picture of two years ago.
“There might be nothing left between you and Kirby now,” Craig said. “Two years is a long time. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll be here waiting for you.”
“Sometimes I wish there were two of me,” she said.
“A few weeks ago, there was almost enough to make two of you. But not anymore.”
The next Saturday she left campus for the weekend to stay with Kirby and his parents at their home in Idaho.
When she got back to school, she called Craig up, and he walked over to her place.
“Well, how was it?”
“It was good, H.T.”
“Are you going to marry him?”
“I think so. Someday.”
He sat for a few minutes, silent and expressionless.
“Well, that about wraps up the summer doesn’t it?”
“I’ll never forget you,” she said.
“It’s funny you know. You told me about Kirby. At first I never believed I had a chance. But near the last I figured he didn’t have a chance. Funny, isn’t it? About a person’s attitude, I mean. It turns out I can do anything I set my mind to … except to keep you,” he said.
She threw her arms around him. He cherished the feeling of having her close.
Suddenly he pushed her away from him, held her hands in his, and said, “Good-bye, Paula.”
He took a long walk through campus. After a while he realized he was walking with a bad limp and that he was slouched over. In his mind he heard a voice barking out at him, “The tough get going when the going gets tough.”
He straightened up and began walking the way they had practiced.
“Hey, Elder Johnson,” somebody called at him from behind.
He turned around, “You talking to me?”
“Oh, sorry. I thought you were a missionary I knew in Ohio. He walked with a little limp too.”
“That wasn’t me.”
He turned around, walked a few feet more, stopped and turned back facing the guy who had called him.
“Hey, this Elder Johnson, was he a good missionary?”
“One of the best.”
“And his limp, it didn’t slow down his companions?”
“Are you kidding? We called him Johnson the Baptist.”
Craig began walking slowly homeward, going over in his mind the first discussion of the missionary lessons.

In January of 1999, an earthquake in the central mountain region of Colombia left the city of Armenia devastated. Many Church members lost their homes. They found shelter in the four undamaged chapels but urgently needed food and clothing.
The Relief Society and priesthood leaders swung into action, and donations from members throughout Colombia poured into a designated chapel in each city. Seven-year-old Neidi had come with her parents to the chapel in the city of Cali and watched as Bishop Villareal received donations from members.
“Bishop, how can I help the children in Armenia?”
“Neidi, your parents have already helped.”
She went to the other end of the chapel and observed that little clothing and no shoes for children were being packed. Neidi came back to the bishop with her shoes in her hand. “Now I know how I can help. Please give these shoes to another little girl in Armenia who has lost hers.” Her bare feet made no sound as she slipped away.

When I got baptized, it was a special time. I felt really good—I’d never had a better day. I learned more things than I ever had on a Sunday. I felt really different when I came out of the water. I knew all of my sins were washed away.
That day I was given a journal to write my feelings and thoughts in. I asked ward members to write in it, too. They wrote that they are happy to have me in the Church and that they are proud of me for choosing the right.
I chose to follow Heavenly Father’s commandments and be baptized. That made me feel happy.
Neil Cain, age 8Belle Fourche, South Dakota

Many years ago when I served as a bishop, I presided over a large ward with over 1,000 members, including 87 widows. On one occasion I was visiting, along with one of my counselors, a widow and her mature handicapped daughter. As we left their apartment, a lady from the apartment across the hall was standing outside her door and stopped us. She spoke with a foreign accent and asked if I were a bishop; I replied that I was. She told me that she noticed I often visited with others. Then she said, “No one visits me or my bedfast husband. Do you have time to come in and visit with us, even though we are not members of your church?”
As we entered her apartment, we noticed that she and her husband were listening to the Tabernacle Choir on the radio. We talked with the couple for a while, then provided a blessing to the husband.
Following that initial visit I stopped by as often as I could. The couple eventually met with the missionaries, and the wife, Angela Anastor, was baptized. Sometime later her husband passed away, and I had the privilege of conducting and speaking at his funeral services. Sister Anastor, with her knowledge of the Greek language, later was to translate the widely used pamphlet Joseph Smith Tells His Own Story into the Greek language.

Recently I went to an Alzheimer’s care facility in Salt Lake City to visit a long-time friend, Mayre Nielsen, who is 97 years of age. I was escorted by a young woman attendant to Mayre’s bedside. As I greeted her, she looked at me with glistening eyes but did not speak a word. I said to her, “Mayre, do you remember when we first met?” Still there was no answer. I continued, “It was long years ago, when you were a member of the Primary General Board and accompanied Sister Monson and me to an assignment in Sydney, Australia.”
I stopped speaking, and the attendant said, “President Monson, Mayre doesn’t know people. She is unable to recognize anyone and doesn’t know who you are. I’ll show you what I mean.”
Turning to Mayre, the attendant said, “Mayre, do you know who this man is?”
Mayre looked at the young woman and said, as clear as clear could be, “Of course. This is Brother Monson.” She then turned back to me, took my hand in hers, and pressed it to her lips. The young attendant also had tears in her eyes as she looked at Mayre in disbelief. Mayre had remembered; Mayre had spoken.
The promise found in the third verse of the beautiful Christmas carol “O Little Town of Bethlehem” had been fulfilled:
How silently, how silently
The wondrous gift is giv’n!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of his heav’n.
No ear may hear his coming;
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him, still
The dear Christ enters in.
(Hymns, no. 208)

A mission is a couple of years in the future, but it’s something 17-year-old Jeremy thinks a lot about now. Where will he be called? Will he have the opportunity to learn a language? What will a mission be like? What more can he do to get ready?
Jeremy Pownall lives in Sydney, Australia, a place known for its famous opera house, great climate, relaxed lifestyle, and surfing. Actually, body-boarding is his passion right now, although he pretty much only gets to go for a few hours early Saturday mornings. He is just getting his mind around the fact that when he goes on his mission he’ll be leaving the beach and the waves behind. After all, a lot of his surf mates have done it. In fact, those mates are the very ones who are the most effective in convincing him that he really can serve a mission and be more than happy about it.
“There’s nothing like an early-morning yarn going to the surf,” he says. “I go with the returned missionaries in the ward and my Young Men leaders. They are great advice givers. All of them say that there will be great experiences in your life, but a mission is the best experience for your life.”
What do a bunch of LDS surfers talk about at the beach? Jeremy smiles slightly and says, “We talk about the waves we’ve caught and the places we’re going to travel to, where we would like to go on a mission or where they’ve been on their missions. The older guys tell us to definitely marry in the temple. And they remind us that we are going to marry the girls we date.” Being surrounded by surf and sand seems to be the right spot for all this good advice to sink in.
Jeremy admits that he really is a listener. And he soaks in the good advice that comes from his mentors, the ones who are a few years ahead of him on the road of life. “They tell me that if I ever do something that I regret, to never feel uncomfortable about going to my bishop or talking to my parents.”
In another instance, at Young Men camp, he listened when someone got up and spoke about his patriarchal blessing. “I hadn’t thought too much about that,” he recalls. “A week later I went for my interview, and a month later I got my patriarchal blessing.”
In talking about his testimony, Jeremy mentions one of his mentors in particular. “He’s one of my dad’s friends from New Zealand. Whenever he comes here, he goes out of his way to take me surfing. It’s a perfect opportunity for us to talk. The talks I’ve had with him are a major part of my conversion story.”
Sometimes it is in the relaxing moments out in the water or on the drive to the beach when what is said is the easiest to listen to. For Jeremy, that’s where his own testimony came into focus.
The next step in his conversion was bearing that testimony. “I think my testimony grew exponentially when I started bearing it more often and more freely. I feel more confident.”
After all, he points out, he does live in the mission field every day. “A lot of people respect me for my morals, especially here in Australia. Here people at 14 will start going to parties, getting drunk, and trying smoking and drugs. They respect me for still being an interesting and outgoing sort of person, yet not doing any of that stuff.”
Jeremy has big plans for the future. His success in school and his interest in learning languages might lead to becoming an ambassador or diplomat. “Everyone complains about how world leaders are doing things at the moment. I think I could do a better job. Maybe they need the Spirit to guide them.”
Jeremy is sensitive to the impressions of the Spirit. He listens to those who have made good choices. He pays attention to his seminary teacher and his youth leaders. And he likes what he hears.
The bottom line is that he is happy. He had a friend tell him once that she envied people from his church because they all seemed to be happy. Jeremy agrees. He says he has always treasured that about the gospel. “I’m blessed to live in Australia. I’m blessed to have a good family and be brought up in the gospel. I don’t want to waste it.”

I am a banana seller and a graduate of policy studies and administration from the University of Calabar, Nigeria.
I worked with my certificate as a degree holder but was underemployed, my salary at the end of the month was not enough to take care of my basic needs so I quit the job to sell bananas.
When I was introduced to the self-reliance devotional, I found it very interesting and I joined the Starting and Growing My Business group.
During my group meeting, I learned a lot of principles that enabled me to start my own business.
Some of the principles I learned that have made my business successful are:
Payment of tithes.
Fasting and praying for the progress of my business.
Spiritual self-reliance (my faith has grown tremendously in the Lord)
Networking for clients (I have an umbrella shop. I also hawk my goods)
I have an expense book for cash in and cash out reports.
I have developed daily savings.
I have a salary from my business.
Now I can afford my basic needs, provide for those around me, and have enough time to plan for myself and my business.
The experience I gained during my group meeting has blessed my life, and I have encouraged everyone around me to join any of the self-reliance groups to also experience a change in their lives.
I may not be fully self-reliant now, but from my efforts, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

One such occasion occurred while I was spearheading an effort in Blackfoot, Idaho, to get a new Bingham County ordinance that would help reduce teenage smoking. At the time, an alarming twenty-seven percent of Idaho teens were smoking. We discovered that tobacco companies were placing their products near candy to encourage teens and children to steal, which, of course, produced more addicted customers. In turn, tobacco reps were offering to replace that stolen product for free. You can imagine how this stirred up a group of PTA moms!

So we drafted a county ordinance that would move tobacco products behind the counter, ban tobacco vending machines, and require licensing, inspections and fines. After our first meeting, it was apparent the commissioners were willing to pass the county ordinance, despite opposition from some local retailers. However, I had an uneasy feeling for some reason, and I started doubting things.

So I followed the counsel in the ninth section of the Doctrine and Covenants in order to receive a confirmation regarding our efforts. First I studied it out logically and resolved that I was still on track. Then I prayed to ask the Lord if this was right thing. I paused to listen, but I did not get a burning, or a feeling that it was right. Instead I had a hard time focusing on my question. My mind wandered and I had to keep reminding myself what I was asking. I did not hear a "no." I just had no feeling at all. Then as I practiced the "pause principle" and knelt in absolute silence, a new idea came into my mind. The idea was to abandon our attempt for a county ordinance and try for a new state law instead.

This made perfect sense, when it came from the Lord. I would have never attempted this on my own, but I was filled with a peaceful reassurance to move forward. The Lord had communicated His will to me through the Holy Ghost and I knew He would help me with the large task that was ahead. I spent the next year researching, writing a bill, finding legislators who would sponsor it, and enduring a battle with the national tobacco lobby, after which the state legislature adopted a new Idaho statute called the "Prevention of Minors' Access to Tobacco."

I know the Lord was guiding this entire process. One year after the law was adopted, minors' access to tobacco in Idaho was reduced by fifty percent. Practicing these few powerful verses helped prepare me to recognize the voice of the Lord so I could hear the confirming answer, which came first as a stupor of thought, followed by a better idea.

Junjiro, Steve, and Cassidy know what it is like to be elders. They did, after all, just come home from missions. Now, at school, they were all set to throw themselves into their education when a new learning experience presented itself. They were called to serve as the elders quorum presidency in the BYU–Hawaii First Ward.
“I was excited about the calling because I felt like the Lord trusted me,” said elders quorum president Junjiro Makise, originally from Japan. “I knew He would not give me a calling that I could not handle. And I could do something to help all the members of the ward.”
Called to serve as counselors were Stephen Dangerfield from Moscow, Idaho, and Cassidy Matthew from the Marshall Islands. Alvin Singh is the secretary. The new presidency set out to learn how to be leaders. They followed the pattern they had learned in the Aaronic Priesthood and while on their missions—they turned to the scriptures and to the Lord in prayer.
“I had a good example in my life,” said Junjiro. “That was my father. He had been the bishop and the stake president when I was growing up. He said that in a leadership position, you have to be an example and participate in everything. It’s not just telling the members what to do but showing by example. You have to do all the things that you ask them to do. You have to be at the activity or at the service project. Then they will do the things you ask them to do more willingly because they know you are doing them as well.”
“My father always drove me to Church activities,” said Junjiro. “Sometimes I just wanted to stay home and play with my friends, but he was always there to take me. Because of my father, I developed the habit of participating in all Church activities. To me, he was what a leader should be.”
Junjiro follows his father’s advice. If he asks the members of the quorum to volunteer for service or to teach a lesson or come to an activity, he is there himself offering support. He said, “Before my calling, I didn’t know the members of my quorum very well. Now I worry about how I can help them to do their part.”
When Junjiro was called, he approached the Lord, as the bishop suggested, in deciding upon his counselors. Two names came up: Stephen Dangerfield and Cassidy Matthew. He felt the influence of the Spirit in asking to serve with these fine young men.
Steve had been serving as a district supervisor for home teaching. “I knew he was on top of things and would get things done,” said Junjiro. Cassidy was newly called as the membership clerk in the ward. But when Junjiro talked to the bishop about him, the bishop said if that’s what the Lord wants, then that’s how it will be. The presidency is united in their goal to serve the elders of their ward.
Steve said, “I think the biggest thing you learn in this sort of position is how significant each person is. It doesn’t need a huge effort on each person’s part, just doing home teaching or coming to activities. It’s fulfilling your responsibilities. You don’t need to go beyond what you’re asked to do. But just doing what you are assigned makes an amazing difference.”
The first challenge facing this presidency was just getting to know all the members of their quorum. Since they are all students, turnover is significant. People finish a semester or a school year and then return home or go on to school in other places.
At first, the quorum was combined from three wards for the summer semester. “Our quorum,” said Steve, “is a good bunch of guys. They all want to be friends.”
On Sundays, Steve often has to assign the quorum to service or welfare projects. He appreciates those who are willing to serve. “They are valiant—or they have flexible schedules,” said Steve, with a smile. The presidency strives to include everyone and leave no individual overlooked.
For Cassidy, it was a surprise when he was called to the presidency. “I got a call asking me to come for an interview with the bishop,” said Cassidy. “I knew something was going to happen, but I didn’t know what it was. I had served in the elders quorum presidency in my small branch back home in the Marshall Islands before my mission, and I learned a lot. But here, in such a large quorum, I have learned even more.
“The thing that has impressed me most was when we looked at all the names on the list and discussed what we were going to do to help each person. It meant a lot to me that we were talking about the needs of each person. It hit me that I was thinking more about others than I was about myself.”
Even in a student ward, this elders quorum presidency is young. But they all see it as a chance to grow. “There are a lot of people in the ward,” said Junjiro, “who know more than we do, and they know more about how to run activities. At first, we looked at our weaknesses. They are hard to get over, but then we gained confidence, and now we just need to keep going.”
And that’s just how this presidency is working. They are pushing ahead, getting to know everyone, trying to get them all involved, finding ways to help fulfill the needs of those in the ward. They are leading by example.

In my growing-up years in Germany, I attended church in many different locations and circumstances—in humble back rooms, in impressive villas, and in very functional modern chapels. All of these buildings had one important factor in common: the Spirit of God was present. The love of the Savior could be felt as we assembled as a branch or ward family.
The Zwickau chapel had an old air-driven organ. Every Sunday a young man was assigned to push up and down the sturdy lever operating the bellows to make the organ work. Even before I was an Aaronic Priesthood bearer, I sometimes had the great privilege to assist in this important task.
While the congregation sang our beloved hymns of the Restoration, I pumped with all my strength so the organ would not run out of wind. The eyes of the organist unmistakably indicated whether I was doing fine or needed to increase my efforts quickly. I always felt honored by the importance of this duty and the trust that the organist had placed in me. It was a wonderful feeling of accomplishment to have a responsibility and to be part of this great work.
There was an additional benefit that came from this assignment: the bellows operator sat in a seat that offered a view of a stained-glass window that beautified the front part of the chapel. The stained glass portrayed the First Vision, with Joseph Smith kneeling in the Sacred Grove, looking up toward heaven and into a pillar of light.
During the hymns of the congregation and even during talks and testimonies given by our members, I often looked at this depiction of a most sacred moment in world history. In my mind’s eye I saw Joseph receiving knowledge, witness, and divine instructions as he became a blessed instrument in the hand of our Heavenly Father.
I felt a special spirit while looking at the beautiful scene in this window picture of a believing young boy in a sacred grove who made a courageous decision to earnestly pray to our Heavenly Father—a Father who listened and responded lovingly to him.
Here I was, a young boy in post–World War II Germany, living in a city in ruins, thousands of miles away from Palmyra, New York, in North America and more than a hundred years after the event actually took place. By the universal power of the Holy Ghost, I felt in my heart and in my mind that it was true, that Joseph Smith saw God and Jesus Christ and heard Their voices. The Spirit of God comforted my soul at this young age with an assurance of the reality of this sacred moment which resulted in the beginning of a worldwide movement destined to “roll forth, until it has filled the whole earth” (D&C 65:2). I believed Joseph Smith’s testimony of that glorious experience in the Sacred Grove then, and I know it now. God has spoken to mankind again!

My wife, Laura, and I were heartbroken when our first child, our four-month-old daughter, Cynthia Marie, died because of complications with spina bifida. This tragedy caused us, two grieving young parents, to search for a way to be with our daughter again someday. We were not members of the Church at the time.
One morning Laura poured out her heart to Heavenly Father, pleading, “Dear Father, I want to be with my daughter again someday, but I don’t know how. Please show me how.”
At that moment there was a knock on our door. Laura went to answer it with tears still streaming down her face. There stood two missionaries. Eventually, Laura and I both gained a testimony of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon and were baptized.
Laura wanted to make sure that all our family members had the chance to receive the gospel. For the first 15 years after our baptism, Laura prepared names for the temple, and then we took them to the temple together. After a while Laura’s arthritis got so bad that I took the names to the temple unaccompanied.
Laura passed away three years ago after a long battle with arthritis. Searching for a way to be with our little girl has brought about the temple work of thousands of our beloved ancestors. We have experienced many miracles while doing family history research and temple work (see D&C 128:18, 22).
Norman Pierce, baptized with Laura Pierce in Louisiana, USA, in 1965

It was game day in Vidor, Texas. There were signs up around town wishing the high school team good luck. Students, teachers, and administrators were wearing black and gold, the school colors. Everyone was positive and upbeat. They just didn’t mention that Vidor High had little chance of winning.
Because Vidor High School is in a region with much larger schools, it doesn’t win very often on the football field or on the basketball court, but that doesn’t affect the students’ attitudes.
They know what true winning is all about.
“We’re always up and looking for the good things,” says Rebecca Packard, student-body president. “Our spirit is awesome,” says Mollie Hoosier. “Everyone knows that about Vidor High.”
That attitude of looking for ways to win in life instead of in competition may be influenced by the student officers at Vidor High School. This past year, the LDS students (numbering 75 in a total of about 1,500) have been the leaders in the school. The student-body president, each class president, and many of the student council members are LDS. These young Mormons want to make a difference in their school and use their influence for good among their peers.
It’s a little unusual to find a school’s student leadership so dominated by LDS students in an area of the United States outside of Utah. But these young people have learned how to make the most out of high school and support each other in staying true to gospel teachings. Their friends at school can’t help but notice, and it’s making a difference in big ways and in little things.
For example, drinking, especially at weekend parties, was a big problem for their peers, so some of the LDS students started throwing their own parties and inviting everyone, as long as they followed the house rules.
“Dad announces the rules at our house,” says Priscilla Packard. “No tobacco; no alcohol; you have to be 14 to attend the party; no pairing off in the corners; and absolutely nobody outside in the cars. Then we dance, and talk, play games, and have contests to see who can do the most back flips in a row. One guy from school who had never been to one of our parties before said, ‘Wow, there’s no alcohol here, and I’m still having fun.’” The parties given by the LDS students are popular with everyone because it isn’t just the same old thing.
Then the LDS students have changed some small things, like the way the kids at their school slow dance. Instead of bear hugging as their schoolmates were doing at school dances, the Mormon kids chose to dance using the usual waltz position. It even became known as dancing “Mormon style.”
“It makes dancing more casual,” explained Brandie Carner. “You hesitate to ask people to dance when you don’t know if they are going to hang on you.”
“You can talk easier,” added Natalie Fawcett. “You’re more at ease.”
“It has changed at school,” said Brandie. “We had a school dance just the other week, and everyone was dancing Mormon style.”
How do you let your friends know your standards? A group of LDS students, who were talking about their high school, groaned in unison. The answers came fast and in a jumble. “Oh, everyone already knows. They know by what you do. They know because of our older brothers and sisters.” Voices overlapped, with several people explaining at once how they always had to be an example, because if they did something they weren’t supposed to, someone was sure to comment, “I didn’t know you Mormons did things like that.”
The reputation of what an LDS student is like precedes them. “The teachers know what to expect,” says Veronica Jenkins. “They know the Mormon kids will work hard and try to get good grades.”
“And if you slack off,” adds Brandie, “they’ll call your parents. Teachers know the Mormon parents care.”
The LDS students try to be good examples, and some of their fellow students can’t help but notice and want to know more. “I was always associating with them,” said Erika Redfield. “It was the example I noticed. Mormons seemed to always be sensitive to other people’s feelings. They were never fake or dishonest.”
When Erika was thinking about her future, planning her education and what she wanted to do, she felt a hole in her religious life. She called one of the LDS girls she knew at school and started asking about things her friend believed. Soon she was investigating the Church with the missionaries. Erika said, “My testimony came really slow at first, but every time I read something, I prayed about it. I had the feeling that it was true. Whenever I found the truth, I wanted to hear more.” But it wasn’t easy. Friends and acquaintances made sure she was well supplied with anti-Mormon literature. “I don’t know how I stood up to it all.” But Erika had found what she was looking for and was baptized.
Now Erika feels very much a part of the LDS group. “The peer group at school is awesome. They try hard to make you fit in. I could never repay them,” Erika says pausing, “but no one asks for anything in return.”
That’s part of the secret the LDS students at Vidor High have for sharing the gospel. They try to be friends with everyone. “There are lots of people out there who aren’t LDS who are good people,” says Priscilla Packard. “Like Erika. Even before she joined the Church, she was a great person. Find those good friends and socialize with them.”
And they try not to be obnoxious about letting their friends know what they believe. Here are some of their suggestions about letting your classmates know about the Church:
Molly Hoosier: “Don’t start by telling them that our church is the only true church. They think we’re being conceited and rude to them. And don’t put down other religions.”
Elizabeth Williamson: “Don’t ever start arguing. You have to stand up for the Church, but don’t get into an argument.”
Spencer Simpson: “Don’t get into far-out subjects.”
Priscilla Packard: “Take it slowly. Sometimes the thought of talking to missionaries is too intimidating. It makes them too nervous. Talk to them about the Church just as a friend.”
Erika Redfield: “Just in conversation, don’t make yourself seem superior to them just because you don’t do the things they do.”
Natalie Fawcett: “Stay away from parties and things that could be trouble. Stay strong.”
And most of all, these students agree, it’s important to live a life that illustrates what you believe. Example cannot be underrated. It speaks much louder than words.
Erika is telling the group about a boy in one of her classes who is getting ready to be baptized. When she tells them who it is, Spencer is amazed. He says, “I sat by him yesterday. That goes to show you that you have to be an example all the time because you never know what it will mean to the person next to you.”
It means something special to be LDS at Vidor High. It means something significant to be a good example. Student-body president Rebecca says, “At school, it’s cool to be good.”
And with an attitude like that, everyone can be a winner.
William and Joissine Williamson took a Mr. Busley into their home as a boarder. While living with them he talked a lot about his past and meeting the Mormons. He said Brigham Young was a good and wise leader. Mr. Williamson listened and did some thinking and finally way off in Texas in the early 1900s, he decided that if he ever got the chance he would join that church.
At noontime on January 9, 1900, two Mormon missionaries wearily made their way up the long lane that led to the Williamsons’ front door. William, looking out the window, exclaimed, “Them’s my men!”
When William and Joissine were baptized, their posterity, all nine children, were heirs to their conversion. They formed a small but united group amid great prejudice.
Their descendants make up the majority of the LDS students at Vidor High School.
Here’s some advice from the LDS students at Vidor High about getting more involved in high school:
Join different types of clubs. You never know how much fun you’ll have if you don’t join in.
Meet all different kinds of people. Don’t be with one person all the time.
Run for student offices. Peter LaPray says, “Don’t let anyone run unopposed. Run just for the fun of it, no matter if you win or not.”
Keep your grades up. Don’t procrastinate. Turn assignments in on time.
Take school seriously. Have fun, but remember you have to plan your schedule carefully, so when it’s time to graduate you’ve completed the classes you need.
Learn to set goals and finish them. Earn your Young Womanhood Medallion or your Eagle Scout Award. Maintain your standards at all costs.
Support other groups who are doing good things.

After the collapse of my father’s catering business, my family faced a serious financial situation. I remember my mother coming home with tears in her eyes, not wanting to tell us what was wrong even after I asked her what the problem was. Soon we had to move into a small one-room apartment because that was what we could afford.
Before then, the Christmas season had always been a time of intense cooking, new clothes, parties, visits to interesting places, and gifts to be shared and received. My mum had a knack for being, as we called her, “Mother Christmas.” She loved to give, and each Christmas she would enthusiastically and lovingly share with those around her. As we got older, thinking of others more than we thought of ourselves became a trait that we also tried to develop.
But that year we did not know what to do. Mum became concerned because it would be our first Christmas outside of our own home. She worried because there was nothing she could think of to share with others. However, we encouraged her because we knew that we could, in our own small way, do something to spread the spirit of Christmas.
Still, we were barely getting by, and we were also struggling to keep the peace in our new surroundings. Our landlady was not a Christian, and she was upset with us because we would wake up early to have family prayer and sing hymns. Our singing would awaken her because our room adjoined her room. Often she complained, so we tried to sing softly and not disturb her. When she saw that we weren’t going to stop having our morning family prayers, her complaints gradually ceased.
Then a thought occurred to my dad. He felt that we should sing Christmas carols to our landlady as our Christmas gift to her. Everyone was thrilled with the idea—except for me. I strongly objected, reminding my family of the complaints she had made over our family prayers. I suggested that we sing for someone who would appreciate it and not for her.
But my dad insisted, explaining that it would be an avenue for us to show her that we were her friends despite belonging to different religions. I had no choice but to join my family in choosing and practicing carols to sing for her.
On Christmas Eve we stood at her door and knocked. She did not open the door, and I was about to get angry and remind my dad of our wasted effort. But as I looked around, I saw that all the members of my family were smiling—they were happy about what we were doing. I felt a desire within me to experience that same feeling.
Eventually the landlady opened her door, and for a moment she did not know what to do. My dad quietly told her that we would love to sing for her and that, if it was all right, we would love to come inside her apartment. She stepped aside, and we went in. We sang all the Christmas songs we could remember—both the ones we had rehearsed and ones we had not. Soon there was a wonderful feeling in the room. Although we knew that she might not understand the meaning of the words, she smiled as we sang. She also told us that she had been feeling lonely and seeing us together made her long for her own family. Before leaving, we wished her a merry Christmas and a happy New Year. She thanked us, and we went back to our room.
As I was trying to fall asleep that night, I pondered on what had happened. It occurred to me that a real Christmas gift is not necessarily store bought or even homemade; it is actually the attitude and the desire we have to do what we can to make our fellow human beings happy. I realized that the greatest gift we can give at Christmastime doesn’t require a lot of money; instead, it is a gift of love.
That night I knew that my family had felt the spirit of Christmas by offering a small service to a lonely neighbor.

I'm grateful to my mom for being willing to leave her family and home in Idaho and move to Samoa for 45 years when she married my dad. I'm sure there were many times when she could have just endured the tougher life in Samoa and then convinced my dad to move back to the mainland when all of her children had moved to the US for college. But, she chose to "endure it well" and adapted to island life by not complaining about what she didn't have. Instead, she was resourceful with what was available. She, along with my dad helped the Church and Church Schools to grow because of her love for her new homeland. She relished the many blessings Samoa had to offer her family - except the bugs. Even after my dad passed away, she chose to stay in Samoa for several more years because it was her home. My dad couldn't have accomplished his work in the church and government if mom had merely endured life in Samoa. She thrived there until all of us, her kids, insisted she move to the mainland for health reasons. But her lessons have left an eternal mark on our lives.