Gospel Story Finder

One of these people was a dear sister I met while serving my mission in Ecuador. Her name is Maria. Through her life experiences, she has learned how powerful being positive can be. Maria is a survivor of leukemia, breast cancer, and a brain tumor. With each cancer, she exercised positive power as she continually reassured others that she knew she’d be okay because our loving Father in Heaven would take care of her. She saw each challenge as a blessing because she knew that when she spent time in hospitals undergoing surgery or chemotherapy she’d be able to make many new friends among the other patients, nurses, and doctors. People around her feel her positive power and are deeply affected. This sister finds joy all around her. She exudes positive power and refuses to fall into the trap of complaining or expressing negative thoughts or feelings. She is a strength to all who know her.

I was deeply affected by Maria’s example of positivity, knowing how sick she often was.

Adrian Slotboom—my maternal grandfather. He was tall for his generation, about six foot three. Strong. Even his moustache and short cropped white hair were wiry and strong. But he was also loving and kind. Oh, so kind. Through him I came to believe that real men were strong and kind, had real reverence for life, loved all living things.

We lived in a basement apartment under him when I was growing up. I saw him almost every day. Oma, my grandmother, would call him to kill a spider in the house, and my strong but kind grandfather would pick the spider up and carry it out to the garden rather than kill it.

Once my brother Gerald and I raised rabbits. This was part of our “war effort,” along with our “victory garden.” You may not remember victory gardens, but most of us were enjoined to have one—a little bit like the counsel we receive today from the Brethren. It seemed the bugs and neglect always won over our carrots and radishes, but at least our rabbits flourished. We spent happy hours harvesting clover and grass from the vacant lots of our neighborhood to feed our rabbits. They grew and fattened, and finally the day of the harvest came. Gerald couldn’t kill and clean them. I couldn’t either. Strong Opa, our grandfather, would. At least so we believed. He finally did because it needed to be done. But kind, loving Opa cried all the time he worked. Needless to say, we didn’t raise any more rabbits.

My sister and I had both been chosen to be on our school color guard (flag team). We were so excited, and we practiced daily so that we could be at the same level of expertise as the others who had been doing this for years. After a long summer of practice, it was time to take a picture of the entire color guard and marching band. For the picture the guard girls were asked to wear an outfit that was very tight and revealing. My sister and I were a little upset. We’d been taught to dress modestly, and we knew this should be no exception.
That night my sister and I made a plan. Color guard was important to us, and it was something we loved to do, but we knew that if we lowered our standards, we would be asked to do the same in the future because we’d already done it once. We knew we must be strong and stand up for what we represent, and if our coach and team couldn’t accept that, then we would quit color guard because our standards were too important to us to be changed by a sport.
The next day, after a lot of prayer that everything would turn out OK, we walked into the gym for pictures, wearing black slacks and T-shirts. The only comments we received from our teammates were that they wished they’d worn what we did because they were embarrassed to be wearing something so immodest. Even our coach agreed! My sister and I were so proud that we’d stood for what we believed in and that we could continue doing color guard! For the past two years, the uniforms had been short or sleeveless, but because we stood up for our beliefs, we’ve been able to modify them to our standards.
Though it may seem hard, if you stand up for your beliefs, the result may be something you never expected. It may not work out like it did for us, but you’ll never know if you don’t try.

I enjoy reading Q&A. A previous edition had a question about cheating (Sept. 2001). I was faced with a similar problem, where one of my classmates wanted to copy my test answers. So I was reading these young people’s responses to the question, and I took some of their advice. I prayed about it, and then I spoke to my friend, telling her that I would not break the commandment but instead I would help her as best as I could. Your magazine has not only helped me but also a lot of teenagers who were faced with the same problem.Oddett AllicockWest Coast Demerara, Guyana

Far away from home, Eric wraps himself in a blanket from Ghana as he prays. “The blanket reminds me of my earthly home,” Eric says, “and prayer reminds me of my heavenly home.”
When 21-year-old Eric Ayala of Techiman, Ghana, was 3, he and his mother were at a street-side market when a car veered out of control and struck them.
“It hit my mother first and broke her leg,” Eric says. “Then it dragged me a long way before my body rolled into the gutter. I was pronounced dead and taken to a mortuary. The mortician was preparing my body when he discovered I was still alive. I was rushed to a hospital.”
Now paraplegic, Eric faced challenge after challenge as he grew up without the use of his legs. He eventually obtained leg braces that allowed him to stand, but he soon outgrew them and couldn’t afford replacements. He was given a small wheelchair, but outgrew that too. His legs withered, sometimes shaking with spasms, and his feet became deformed.
In Ghana, those with disabilities are often considered a burden. Eric’s family had little money, not enough to pay for medical treatment. When Eric was about 10, he developed pressure sores caused by lack of movement and by sitting on wood and concrete. The sores festered, oozing constantly, and they smelled terrible.
The open-air shed where Eric lived for years still stands behind the family home.
As a result, Eric lived outside, on a bench in an open-air shed. His mother, Lucy, and his sisters brought him food, washed his clothes, and helped him bathe. Eric was often drenched by rain and shivered from cold in the night. He learned to love morning sunshine because it brought warmth. Too poor to go to school and unable to work, he spent years in that shed, occasionally venturing into the neighborhood on his wheelchair.
Rather than becoming resentful, “I started to love and believe in God,” Eric says. “Nobody taught me about Him, but I could see His creations, and I could see the good and bad in people. Sometimes it is hard to believe in Him when life is hard. But then I would see something good come into my life, and I would say, ‘See, God is here, and it is wonderful.’”
Eric had not been formally taught how to pray, but he began calling upon God. He received answers—when he was sick, an unanticipated opportunity to see a doctor; when he asked for relief from his sores, they went away; when he outgrew his small wheelchair, a kind stranger brought him a larger one. “God did many good things in my life,” he says.
Still, sometimes Eric would get discouraged. He found himself crying when he was in pain and hungry. “I decided if I was going to be happy, it was up to me,” he recalls. “I forced myself to smile. If I didn’t, I was afraid I would turn to something bad.” In particular, he saw friends using alcohol and drugs, and, “my heart told me that was wrong.”
Then, in what seemed a miracle, at age 14, Eric was accepted for school. His mother, by cooking for others, had scraped together enough money to buy him a uniform and pay for books and tuition. At school, “I couldn’t go out and exercise with the others,” he explains, “so I stayed inside and studied all the time.” He amazed his headmaster by receiving top scores in math, reading, and writing.
A nun from the hospital donated a new tricycle that Eric could pedal with his hands, making it easier for him to go to school. But as Eric went back and forth, pressure sores opened again. Infection returned, along with the putrid smell as the wounds leaked. Students complained about flies constantly buzzing around Eric. He was 17 when the headmaster told him to go home and get well, or he could not return to school.
Eric’s father had a tiny farm out in the country. He had taken the family to work on the farm, but Eric remained at home in his shed, alone. Meanwhile, his sores enlarged to huge wounds and infection entered into his bones, a life-threatening condition called osteomyelitis.
When he was 18, Eric saw his friend Emmanuel Ofosu-hene speaking English with an obruni (white man). The obruni was a Mormon missionary, Elder Old. “I only spoke Twi, but Emmanuel interpreted for me: ‘I am so sick I think I will die. Can you help me know what to do so I can go to heaven?’
“Elder Old and his African companion sat with me and taught me. For some reason, they started with the Word of Wisdom. I knew they were speaking the truth because I already knew coffee and tobacco were bad.” They also gave Eric a brochure about the restored gospel of Jesus Christ and invited him to church.
“When I went, I saw this Church was different,” he says. “It was reverent.” Even though it took him an hour to push himself to church in his wheelchair, Eric loved the meetings. “I wanted to go up front and be with people,” he says. “But I stayed at the back because I knew I smelled bad.”
Eric told the missionaries, “What I am learning is true.” He also told them he wanted to be baptized, but doctors had warned him not to get his wounds wet. “I will rely on God to provide answers,” he said. He attended church for about a year and then became too ill and weak to wheel himself there.
Eric’s mother, Lucy, met the missionaries, studied the gospel, and was baptized in 2015. But because her broken leg had never been properly set, it was painful for her to walk. Attending meetings was a challenge for her, as well.
Eventually, Eric was taken to the hospital again. In Ghana, patients have to provide their own water, food, bedding, medicine, and bandages. If they have no money, they are not treated. Eric’s mother and sisters did what they could. Eric received food and medical attention infrequently, so he grew weaker.
Then Eric received some unexpected visitors. Missionaries, Sister Peprah and Sister Nafuna, had seen his photograph at the church and came to see him in the hospital and brought him food. It had been a year since he had been to church, but he told them he still wanted to be baptized.
A few days later, Eric’s sister visited him and found him very ill. She ran home and told their mother. Though their mother had suffered permanent leg damage in the accident with Eric, she walked to the hospital, wincing with every step. “You must come home,” she told Eric. “If you’re going to die, I at least want you near.”
The next morning, the sister missionaries came to the house. “You weren’t at the hospital,” Sister Peprah said. “So we came here.” With them were Elder and Sister Wood, senior missionaries from New Zealand. They took inventory of needs and promised to return.
A few days later, Eric’s father took the family back to the farm—except Eric, who found himself alone again and without food or water. When Elder and Sister Wood returned and discovered Eric alone and hungry, they brought him food and water. They returned the next day and noticed fluid running down his leg and found a huge open ulcer on his thigh. They immediately took Eric back to the hospital.
The Woods learned of a medical humanitarian team from the United States that would be coming to Ghana. The team would perform surgery for Eric without cost. The surgeon treated the ulcer on Eric’s leg. But when he saw the severity of Eric’s wounds, as well as the osteomyelitis, he determined he could not do all the necessary procedures in Ghana. Based on his recommendation, the humanitarian organization initiated a process that would eventually bring Eric to the United States to receive additional treatment and permanently close his wounds. In addition, a shelter in Winneba, Ghana, run by members of the Church, agreed to have Eric live there when he returned so that he could attend school and complete his education.
While in Utah for surgery, Eric visits the reflecting pool near the Salt Lake Temple. Eric says he loves the feeling of peace he finds at the Salt Lake Temple.
Elder Wood, an engineer by profession, rebuilt Eric’s hand-pedal tricycle. He performed a similar overhaul on his wheelchair. He also counseled with President Cosgrave of the Ghana Kumasi Mission, a medical doctor. They felt Eric could be baptized if proper precautions were taken.
Eric shows his tricycle to his mother and siblings after senior missionaries repaired it.
“Elder Wood wrapped my body in plastic, with tape around the plastic,” Eric explains. “Then he carried me into a font filled with water treated with disinfectant. I was baptized on June 26, 2016.” Eric had relied on the Lord, and the Lord had provided a way.
Today, Eric is studying to become a computer technician. But also feels he can influence others through music—he likes to rap in Twi. His upbeat message talks about how God rescued him. One of his favorite scriptures says, “Look to God and live” (Alma 37:47). And he still says, “I see God in everything.”
He adds, “I don’t want anyone to think the way Heavenly Father has blessed me is identical to how He will bless them. But He will bless those who trust Him. When you have to deal with hard things, pray and trust God.”
Eric looks forward to a bright future. He’s studying to be a computer technician and also feels he can inspire others with music.

We had a powerful experience at the beginning of our mission. We were visiting in Samoa and met Brett Macdonald, who was the Country Director at the time. He has a strong bond with Samoa and was fascinated with the early history of the Church in that country. He had researched and found interesting information. He shared with us stories about the early missionaries and how so many suffered from disease and hardship. He took us to a cemetery where these good missionaries were buried.

As we always do each week, we wrote our journal entry, including this information, and sent it to our children and a few close friends. We received a phone call very soon after from our dear friend Greg Lambert. He said, my mother's great uncle went to Samoa on a mission in the early 1900's. He died there and no one ever really knew what happened to him. If you ever run across any information about this, would you let me know. His name was Judson Tomlinson.

We wrote to Brett and asked if he had ever heard of this young missionary. Well, as a matter of fact he had. Judson Tomlinson had become ill and they took him to the mission home. The mission president and his wife cared for him and nursed him. Elder Tomlinson suffered terribly and died in the loving care of his good mission president. He was buried in the Fagali'i Cemetery.

The next time we were in Samoa, we visited that Cemetery and took a picture of Judson Tomlinson's grave. We sent it to Greg Lambert. After all these years - 106 years, Elder Monson and I were the ones to bring closure to that family. It was our great blessing to be the ones to close that gap.

I still wonder about that experience. How did that happen? One hundred years later - what if Brett hadn't told us those stories, what if we hadn't written about it in our journal, what if we hadn't sent the journal to Greg? What if another couple had been called instead of us? It's really pretty amazing, don't you think?

I walked to school one day, my first day in fourth grade and at a new school. I was scared but got to my classroom OK. At recess, I was all alone. I saw Erin* all alone, too. She didn’t have any friends, and other kids made fun of her because she had lived in three foster homes.
I went over and said hi. She started crying. I asked what was wrong. She said that nobody had been that nice to her. It made me feel really warm inside to know that I had made someone feel better.

In one ward I lived in, I had a neighbor who would often sit in the church foyer during the second hour. One Sunday, I was surprised to see him in class. During the class discussion, my neighbor offered his perspective. The things he shared strengthened my faith, helped me feel the Holy Ghost, and provided an answer I needed at that time. I do not know the reasons why my neighbor did not regularly come to class, but I wondered how my life would be different if he had not attended and participated that day.

From Ruth Manu:
"Although there are countless sacrifices from others that have blessed my life over the years, this one stands out the most. I was in a horrific car accident a few years ago that resulted in my mother's death and me being life-flighted in critical condition. My sweet, selfless grandmother sat in the hospital and rehab centers with me every day for just over a month. I did become frustrated with her at times; however, it was one of the biggest blessings ever to have her with me at that time when I felt so utterly abandoned and alone."

“Can Christopher come out and play?”
Christopher heard his friend’s cheerful voice at the front door. He sprinted to the living room. Before his mother could say a word, Christopher had already reached the front door to greet his friend Ben.
Ben and Christopher weren’t only good friends—they were best friends. Nearly every day the boys enjoyed playing basketball, digging holes in the backyard, catching fireflies, or doing some other fun activity. Christopher was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and Ben wasn’t. But the two boys still had a lot of fun together.
“What do you want to do today?” Christopher asked. He bent over to tie his shoes, still caked with mud from his puddle-jumping competition with Ben the day before.
“Let’s go ride bikes,” Ben said.
The boys raced down the creaky porch steps and grabbed their bikes. When Ben discovered that the chain on his bike had come loose, he yelled out a bad word that sent a chill up Christopher’s neck.
Christopher had a bad feeling inside. He knew Heavenly Father didn’t want people to say words like the word Ben just said.
“I don’t really like that word,” Christopher told Ben. “We don’t say it at my house.”
Ben slowly lifted his head to look at Christopher. His eyebrows were scrunched down. He looked confused.
“What do you mean you don’t say that word at your house?” Ben asked.
“It’s just not a nice word, so we don’t say it,” Christopher replied.
“I don’t believe you,” Ben said. “Everybody says it. You have to say it.”
Christopher didn’t want to argue. He liked playing with Ben, but he knew that he needed to stand up for what he believed in.
“I’ve never said it, and I never will,” Christopher said. “You don’t have to say those kinds of words.”
“Whatever,” Ben said as he grabbed his bike and turned toward his house. “I’m going home,” he muttered as he trudged down the road.
Christopher felt bad that Ben was mad. He didn’t want to hurt Ben’s feelings. As he turned around to walk back into his house, he was surprised to see his mother standing in the doorway with a half-smile on her face.
As Christopher walked up the porch steps, Mom knelt down on one knee so she could look him in the eyes. “I’m very proud of you, Christopher,” she said. “It took a lot of courage for you to say what you said.”
“I believe I made Heavenly Father happy,” Christopher said. “But I think Ben is angry.”
“Everything will be fine,” Mom said. “Heavenly Father blesses us when we are obedient. You’ll see.”
The next morning, Christopher heard a knock on his front door. He hoped it was Ben. Several questions ran through Christopher’s head as he turned the doorknob. Would Ben still be mad? Would he call him names? Could they still be friends?
Christopher opened the door and prepared for the worst.
“Hi, Chris,” Ben said. “Do you want to play?”
Ben’s eyebrows weren’t scrunched down like they were the day before. He had a smile on his face. He wasn’t mad anymore. Christopher was happy.
“Sure, let’s go,” Christopher answered as he jumped outside.
Christopher never heard Ben use another bad word again. He knew his mother was right—Heavenly Father does bless us when we have the courage to stand up for the right.

“As an investigator, I came across an old copy of the Book of Mormon that was yellowed and musty with age. Its jacket was stiff, as if it had never been touched,” says Janet Spear of South Glens Falls, New York. “But as I picked it up, I was filled with tremendous joy, and a peaceful feeling of relief washed over me. That day I began to read the Book of Mormon for the very first time. My soul was starving for spiritual food, and I began to feast upon the words.
“The passage cried out to me as I read Alma 13:27: ‘Cast off your sins, and [do] not procrastinate the day of your repentance.’ Driven to my knees, I poured out my soul in prayer. In my heart the Holy Spirit said, ‘This journey has ended. It’s time to begin another.’
“I arranged to have the missionaries teach me the gospel. It was wonderful. I had never known such joy! Since the day I was baptized, the Book of Mormon has been my constant companion. It encourages me, inspires me, and teaches me. Its words have shown me how to live, not simply to exist. I truly experienced a metamorphosis.”

Let me share with you two contrasting responses: The patient was a 36-year-old woman; I’ll use the name Mary. She announced that she was certain she had cancer. When asked why, she said, “My mother died of cancer, my sister died of cancer, another sister now has cancer, and I have just found this big lump in my abdomen, so I know I have cancer.” I attempted to reassure her, but when we operated on Mary, we found malignancy, not localized, but spread throughout her entire abdominal cavity. When I faced Mary the next morning, she asked soberly, “I have cancer, don’t I?” My reluctant response was, “Yes, you have cancer.” Her next question was, “How long do I have to live?” I explained the impossibility of setting an exact time. She hoped I wouldn’t misunderstand her question. She was not afraid to die, she said, for she had made peace with her Maker.

Her response was similar to the one Thoreau made on his deathbed when asked if he had made peace with his Maker. He replied, “I never knew that we had quarreled.” (August Derleth, Concord Rebel, Chilton Co., 1962, p. 201.)

Mary was at peace with her Father in heaven because she had just completed a special course for senior Aaronic Priesthood bearers. It was called “Project Temple.” She spoke of her husband and her teenage daughter who had not been active in the Church until the three of them had attended the “Project Temple” meetings. At the conclusion of the experience, the bishop had assured them that in six months they could go to the temple if they would do the things they knew they should. Mary’s plea was to stay alive for that six months so she could go to the temple and be sealed to her family. “If I can stay alive that long, then I will die without complaining,” she would tell me. Mary stayed alive for that six months. During her entire stay in the hospital, she was cheerful and seemingly without pain, even though her body was riddled with a disease that ordinarily is extremely painful and requires large amounts of narcotics. Mary needed none, and she literally folded her arms and died—without a complaint.

Pastel-colored tissue paper cluttered tabletops as young women from a ward in Utah, USA, working with their leaders, cut circle after circle, then threaded the circles together to form flowers, and then attached them to head bands. As they fashioned flower after paper flower, laughter and conversation filled the air—as well as anticipation. The flowers were to be worn at a dinner where, after months of anonymous service, the young women would finally meet their “secret grandmothers.”
From February to September, the young women had worked both alone and in groups—delivering treats, washing windows, plastering paper hearts all over doors—anything they could think of to brighten the day of the senior sisters in their ward.
And now it was finally time for the grandmothers to find out which young women had been serving them.
The evening for the dinner soon arrived. It didn’t take long before young women and “secret grandmothers,” all of them with paper flowers in their hair, were laughing and joking, saying, “So, you’re the one!” and “Thank you so much!”
Once everyone was a little better acquainted, and after sharing a delicious meal, the real fun of the evening began. The “grandmothers” had responded to questionnaires. As their answers were read aloud, the young women had to guess who was being introduced.
Answers revealed information such as favorite childhood activities, best advice received from parents, life-changing moments, family rules and chores when they were teens, favorite foods, embarrassing experiences, awkward dates, nicknames, their mother’s recipes, family heirlooms and traditions, favorite teachers, and much more.
There were some tender moments. One young woman, Charlotte R., 18, who lost her mother when she was eight, found out that two of the senior sisters had been through the same experience.
“That strengthened me a lot,” Charlotte said. “Here are women I admire, who do so much and help so many, and I never knew that they lost their mothers, too.”
Sister Shields, for example, was 16 when her mother died. Charlotte said, “When she said her mother’s faith stayed strong and that she heard her mother’s testimony many times, that really touched me, because that’s how my mother was.”
Sister Shields showed two prized possessions to the young women—a baptismal dress her mother sewed, and a coat her mother made for her just before she passed away.
Serenity M., 15, said that “seeing what Sister Shields’s mother did for her made me think about what my mother has given to me.” It also made her glad that she had made something nice for Sister Shields: “a hot chocolate mug with a smiley face inside, so that when she’s done drinking cocoa she has an extra reason to smile.”
Another young woman, Michaela M., 15, said she had often seen Sister Heyward at church before the months of service began. “I never actually knew her personally,” Michaela said, “but doing service for her made me feel closer to her, even though until tonight she didn’t know who was doing it.”
At the dinner, however, Michaela gained additional perspective. “Tonight, when the ‘grandmothers’ answered questions about growing up, going on dates, what they learned in seminary, and all of that, I thought, those are the same things I’m going through. I got the feeling that we’re all sisters, even though we’re different ages.”
Emma F., 13, agreed. “Sometimes it’s fun to be with people who are a little older because you get to see how much alike we are.”
Emily M., 15, said that an added benefit of the service and the dinner was that it made her feel eager to attend Relief Society. “If they’re all nice like these ladies,” she said, “then I’m excited.”
“It brought us together as sisters in Zion,” said Chloe F., 17. “It wasn’t scary or intimidating to be with these ladies; it was easy and natural because we all had things in common. It strengthened my testimony of how we truly are sisters, and I was impressed with their faith and how it has guided them.” It was, she said, “perfect preparation for when I go into Relief Society this fall.”
And Amanda L., 17, said, “The day after the dinner, Sister Coke left me some flowers and a note that said she was happy to get to know me. I’ve made a friend and it won’t taper off. I’m going to keep visiting her every once in a while to see how she’s doing, to let her know we still care.”
That is, after all, the sort of thing that sisters do.

As a youth he decided early to read the scriptures. According to his sister Edith, he had read the Book of Mormon twice by the time he was ten.

“When I was a small boy, too young to hold the Aaronic Priesthood,” President Smith remembered, “my father placed a copy of the Book of Mormon in my hands with the request that I read it. I received this Nephite record with thanksgiving and applied myself to the task which had been assigned to me. There are certain passages that have been stamped upon my mind, and I have never forgotten them.”

Plan surprise activities. If Dad comes home from work tired and worn out, falls into his chair, and doesn’t get up until dinner, we know it’s time to plan another surprise activity. We love to kidnap Dad when he leaves from work or steps out of the car at home and take him on a family outing. Our activity might be as simple as going to a park for a picnic dinner. Sometimes we make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, throw in a bag of chips, kidnap Dad, and drive to a local point of interest. Even though they aren’t elaborate, our activities are always fun and spontaneous—and Dad loves being the center of everyone’s kidnapping scheme.

Down on the tip of England’s toe, 18-year-old Joanne Crocker of Helston Ward, tells of her teacher, Hugh Dunbar. “The day before one monthly meeting, his car wouldn’t go. He had the engine in pieces until 3:00 A.M. Then he snatched two hours of sleep and finished the job by 11:30 Saturday morning in time to begin picking up his class of seven by 12 noon. Then we drove 70 miles to the Plymouth stake centre. And this was only six months after open heart surgery.”

Early in 1957, two missionaries knocked on his mother’s door and she invited them in. This was the start of John Douglas Jeffrey’s learning about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. As he and his mother spent time with the missionaries, the Holy Ghost bore witness to him that the Church was true because the missionaries were able to answer all of his questions.
Later, John moved to Townsville, Queensland, where he met more missionaries who continued to teach him, and also his new wife, Lois. In September 1957 they became the first people to join the Church in Townsville. He was baptised in Bluewater Creek just north of Townsville. (Baptisms in creeks or swimming pools were common in the early days of the Church.)

Recently I read a story that had a profound effect on me.
A couple was swimming in the ocean not far from the beach. Suddenly the captain of a nearby boat jumped from the deck, fully clothed, and began sprinting through the water toward them. “I think he thinks you’re drowning,” the husband said to the wife. “We’re fine.” He yelled, waving him off, but the captain kept swimming hard, his eyes focused straight ahead. With powerful strokes, he dove between the stunned couple. He had seen something they had not.
Directly behind them, not 10 feet away, their nine-year-old daughter was drowning.
Safely above the surface, in the arms of the captain, the little girl was finally able to call out for her parents.1
How did this captain know—from 50 feet away—what the father couldn’t recognize from just 10? Drowning is not the violent, splashing call for help that most people expect. The captain, a former lifeguard, was trained by experts and years of experience to recognize drowning. The father, on the other hand, had learned what drowning looks like by watching television. Until she was safe in the arms of her rescuer, his daughter hadn’t made a sound.

Sometimes people judge us for being members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and for being different. Last year I got bullied a lot by people at school. But I felt God’s help when others helped me defend myself from the bullies. It was like a shield of protection from God.
I prayed that I would be able to forgive the people who bullied me. I have forgiven them in my heart, and now I smile at them and say hello when I see them.
I like to help others, like my soccer teammates, not to judge people. I want others to see the whole picture of who I am and who others are.
Matthew H., Arizona, USA

They say things are big in Texas—big state, big ranches, big stories, big ideas.
And after meeting the LDS youth in Austin, the state’s capital, you’d probably add a few more things to the “big” list. Things like big testimonies and big hearts.
As a matter of fact, their love for Christ is so big that they wanted to share it with all their friends, LDS or not. They wanted to host an activity that would bring LDS kids and non-LDS kids closer to the Savior and closer to each other. They also decided that such an activity would be the perfect way to cap off the year’s seminary study of the New Testament.
Both youth and adult leaders were called to help organize the event. They decided that since football is such a big sport in Texas, former BYU and Houston Oiler quarterback Gifford Nielson would help attract a crowd. They invited Tim Ross, a Church member well known in the area for his wacky TV weather reports, to speak, figuring he would draw people out too. The conference would include slide presentations, testimonies, prayers, workshops, and of course, there would be some serious, heartfelt talks about the Savior—how much he means to the youth of Texas and to people everywhere. There would be lighter activities, as well, like a dance and a Texas barbecue.
Equipped with an irresistible agenda, they went out to contact various youth groups in the vicinity and invite them over for the big day.
That’s when a big problem came up.
“I contacted several youth groups, and they were really excited at first,” said Anna Francis, 17, a member of the youth planning committee. “But when it got to their ministers, they decided they didn’t want them to come to a Mormon activity. Some of them seem to think that Mormons aren’t Christians, so they said we had no right holding a conference on Christ. It’s sad, because we were trying to help them see that we really are Christians.”
At that point, Plan B went into effect. Since all the youth groups invited declined the invitation, the LDS kids were encouraged to invite their nonmember friends from school. “All the Mormon youth fasted and prayed that everything would work out, and that more people would want to come,” said Tomasyn Harlow, another member of the planning committee. “We invited our friends and talked to people all over the stake. It worked. We ended up with over 225 people.”
Actually, that was quite an impressive turnout. “On a beautiful Saturday like this, they could have been in a million other places,” said Bob Ferguson, a member of the stake high council who was assigned to coordinate the conference. “They could be out waterskiing, fishing, hitting all the new movies. They could have been out working and earning some money. But they wanted to come here to get closer to Christ.”
And the event turned out to be a big success after all.
“I think this is the best we’ve ever done,” said Johnny Apel, 16. And that’s a pretty big compliment. After all, this is a stake that sponsors memorable activities at the end of each seminary year that correspond with the book of scriptures they’ve been studying. They’ve put on things like a “Nephite Festival” that was their version of a county fair in the land of Bountiful, complete with a realistically simulated earthquake and storm, followed by a beautiful talk on Third Nephi.
Then there was the big “Wander in the Wilderness,” where the seminary students were taken to a desolate area, divided by their birth months into twelve “tribes,” and required to complete 12 Old Testament-oriented tasks like rescuing Daniel from the lion’s den, building a tower of Babel, and building an ark. At the end, they were treated to a big feast, similar to that of the Passover.
With activities like that, rating the “Come unto Christ” youth conference number one really says something.
What made the event such a big success? The location wasn’t out of the ordinary—much of the program was held in the chapel, and the workshops were held in church classrooms. Meals were brought in and either eaten outside in the Texas sunshine or inside, picnic-style, on blankets on the gym floor.
So it was the theme itself and the attitudes of the kids involved that made this such a big event. “What could be more important than to come unto Christ?” said Tisha Perry, age 16. “I hoped that this activity would help me to get closer to him, and it did.”
You could actually see some changes taking place right before your eyes as the day wore on. “I really don’t know where it started, but lately I’ve had a real problem with listening to what my parents say and following the counsel they give me,” Greg Harkrider, 16, told the entire group. “I just want them to know that I’m glad that I listened to what they said and came today to learn more about Christ. That’s what I need to be here for. I’ll try to be better because of this.”
And responses from the 30 or so non-LDS kids who did come were positive as well. Rick Moore and Eric Bradshaw, two 16-year-olds who met on the set of a movie they were both involved in, came to the conference because the subject was of great interest to them both. Rick is LDS. Eric is Presbyterian. “Pretty much everything that’s been said here today I’m 100 percent with,” said Eric. “This is really encouraging for me.”
Darla Marburger, 16, who came with her LDS friend Milli Egger, 14, had a response similar to Eric’s. “This has really helped me to grow spiritually,” she said.
“I’m just glad someone has taken the time to teach us more about Christ,” added Milli. “It’s important to learn now, when we’re young and impressionable, so we have a better chance of turning out right.”
Richard Cromwell, a very popular high school teacher and an ordained Methodist minister, also paid big compliments to the event. “This is great!” he said. “I’m all for anything that helps bring the kids closer to Christ.”
The spirit of the day was not diminished when the lights in the gym went down low and the music was turned up for the dance that finished off the conference. A stake music committee, made up mostly of youth, had previously selected all the music that would be played, making sure it was fun to dance to, yet didn’t contain inappropriate lyrics.
While the music played inside, the youth on the organizing committee wandered outside for a breather. They inevitably began discussing the big subject of the day. “Being a part of all this really makes me want to work harder to be better—to be more like Jesus,” said Mark Davies, 17. “That would be so great.”
“We heard a lot about Christ today, and his spirit was here,” added Anna. “That’s exactly what we wanted.”
“Oh yes,” Thomasyn agreed. “Even though it didn’t turn out exactly like we’d planned at first, it was a big success.”
There it was. Still another big to add to the Texas list.