Gospel Story Finder

The museum was in the heart of the city. Urban decay had rotted away the neighborhood near the museum. They parked the car and walked along a newspaper-strewn sidewalk.

A man stood in a doorway watching them approach. He held in one hand a twisted brown paper bag which contained a bottle. As they came near him, he stumbled out of the doorway toward them.

“Are you Mormons?” he asked, slurring his words.

“Yes,” Scott answered.

“I thought so. Well, I’ve got a question for you. Do you know Jesus Christ?”

The man leaned forward, thrusting his face at Scott.

“Our church can tell you more about the Savior than any other church,” Scott said.

“That’s not what I want to know. Do you, yourself, know him?”

Scott felt the man’s probing glare. He’s only a drunk, he thought. He probably has to beg for whiskey.

“Do you know Jesus Christ?” the man again demanded.

Scott tried to move aside, but the man grabbed his coat sleeve.

“Do you know Jesus Christ?”

“Let go of me!” Scott ordered, jerking his sleeve and running for the museum doors. Elder Anderson followed after him.

“Tell me!” the man shrieked.

“Well, he won’t follow us in here,” Elder Anderson said with a smile in the museum lobby.

“Why not?” Scott asked, still shaken by the experience.

“Because it costs two dollars to get in.”

They strolled through the museum corridors, following the progress of mankind from earliest times until the present. Around every corner, Scott expected to see the man charging toward him, yelling his question, but he never saw the man again.

As they stood before one exhibit, Elder Anderson stood beside Scott and said quietly, “Elder, I’m sorry. I didn’t even want to be a zone leader.”

Scott turned slightly to acknowledge his companion. “It’s all right. It’s not your fault.”

Several seconds passed, and then Elder Anderson asked quietly, “Whose fault is it?”

Scott looked at him, puzzled by the question. “Is it President Snowden’s fault for receiving the inspiration? Or is it the Lord’s fault for giving the inspiration?”

“I’m sorry,” Scott said quickly. “I didn’t mean that. It just slipped out.”

Scott couldn’t sleep that night. An overwhelming feeling of failure crept into his throat and chest and crushed down. Dreams became nightmares. The man from the street ran through his thoughts, shouting at him with the same question.

As Ryan was participating in a school quartet, he found that the song selected for the group to sing had lyrics he objected to. Ryan talked to the teacher about changing the words, but the teacher became angry. Ryan was hurt by the teacher’s reaction. After school, the teacher asked to speak to him and apologized for getting upset. “She said that what I had done took courage,” said Ryan. “She said she admired me for standing up for what I believed in and that she was willing to resolve the problem because she really wanted me in the quartet.”

Stephanie Cole and Tiana Karren have been close friends since they were two years old. Even going to different schools hasn’t gotten in the way of their friendship. This year, the two Laurels from the Saratoga Ward, in the California Saratoga Stake, decided to turn that friendship into good works with a joint Personal Progress project.
One day last fall, Stephanie was talking about how much her younger cousins like to sing and how they wanted to be in a choir. Stephanie, who loves music and has played piano since kindergarten, suggested she might organize a children’s choir. When her mom casually mentioned the conversation to the ward Primary chorister, the chorister jumped at the opportunity and signed Stephanie on in short order.
The children’s choir seemed like the perfect Value Project—until Stephanie counted the children in the Primary. “I knew right away that this was a bigger task than I could handle on my own,” says Stephanie.
Knowing that her friend Tiana loved music, she enlisted her help. “Sometimes it was really challenging to get the children to even listen and pay attention,” says Tiana.
When the day finally arrived for the program, Stephanie accompanied the children on piano, and Tiana directed. The children sang beautifully!
“Our teamwork really paid off,” says Stephanie. “So many people came up after and told us how much they enjoyed the program.”
After 12 hours of work, the Primary program was done. The girls continued to hold practices with the children’s choir to finish the project’s needed hours—and for fun! But they didn’t stop there.
“Ashley, my younger sister, was always trying to talk me into coaching her basketball team,” says Stephanie. “I’ve been playing on a basketball team since fourth grade, and I love the game so I figured, why not?” Once again Tiana responded to Stephanie’s call for help. At first, it looked like another good opportunity for a Personal Progress project. In the end it became a labor of love in which they ended up working beyond their required hours.
“Not only did we get to be involved in something we both love,” says Tiana, “but it was even more fun when we found out that all but three of the girls on the team are members of our ward and the other girls are all their friends.”
Needless to say, coaching the young team has not been without challenges. For starters, Tiana and Stephanie had to make time in their busy schedules for three full months of weekly practices and Saturday games, not to mention time spent making phone calls to keep parents updated.
Tiana laughs when asked about the other challenges they faced, noting that “the players are the best of friends, and sometimes they love talking even more than they love basketball!”
Stephanie says the hardest part of coaching was teaching basketball skills that are second nature to her and Tiana but are new to the team and especially the younger girls who have never played before.
Tiana added that coaching this team has made her think about what it means to be a good example. “We had to be careful to treat each player fairly and impartially even though we both have younger sisters on the team,” she says.
Tiana and Stephanie taught the girls to work together as a unit, just as they had to learn to work together as coaches. On this team, no girl is a stranger, and no girl is left out.
When asked about her coaches, 11-year-old Leah Williams says, “I totally look up to them. Not only are they really good basketball players and my coaches, but they are also my best friends. I know that when they tell me what to do I can trust them.” She added that someday she would like to coach a team herself.
Eleven-year-old Abby Hulme, who had never played on a basketball team before, said she was more comfortable with Stephanie and Tiana than she would have been with a coach she didn’t know.
Linda Williams, the Saratoga Ward Young Women president (and Leah’s mom), commented that she was impressed that Stephanie and Tiana are so willing to share their talents and what they love with others.
A Primary choir. A girls’ basketball team. Who knows what’s next for these two Laurels? One thing is sure, though—they know that when they are in the service of others, they are in the service of their Heavenly Father. Understanding that principle helped them to see that Personal Progress doesn’t have to be an unwelcome chore or extra work.
“Find a way to do the things you are interested in anyway,” suggests Stephanie.
Of course, not all Personal Progress projects are meant to be done as a team. But as Tiana says, “Doing it with a friend makes it more fun.”

A story from my own family history illustrates this principle. My great-grandfather Joseph Watson Maynes was born in 1856 in Hull, Yorkshire, England. His family joined the Church in England and then made their way to Salt Lake City. He married Emily Keep in 1883, and they became the parents of eight children. Joseph was called to serve a full-time mission in June of 1910, when he was 53 years old. With the support of his wife and eight children, he returned to his native England to serve his mission.

After serving faithfully for approximately two years, he was riding his bicycle along with his companion to Sunday School services in Gloucester, England, when his tire burst. He got off his bicycle to assess the damage. When he saw that it was serious and would take a while to fix, he told his companion to go ahead and begin the Sunday service and he would be there shortly. Just as he finished saying this, he collapsed to the ground. He had died suddenly of a heart attack.

Joseph Watson Maynes never saw his wife and eight children again in this life. They were able to transport his body back to Salt Lake City and have his funeral service at the old Waterloo Assembly Hall. A statement made at his funeral service by Elder Anthony W. Ivins of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles teaches us an important lesson about life, death, and endurance: “This is what the gospel gives us—not immunity from death, but victory over it through the hope we have in a glorious resurrection. … It applies to [Joseph Maynes]. … It is a pleasure, and it is a satisfaction and joy to know that men lay down their lives in righteousness, in the faith, true to the faith.”4

This family story inspires me to try my very best to follow the example of endurance and spiritual stamina illustrated by my great-grandfather. I am equally inspired by the faith of his wife, Emily, whose life after Joseph’s death was certainly a heavy burden to bear. Her testimony was strong and her conversion complete as she spent the rest of her life true to the faith while supporting her eight children on her own.

Eighteen-year-old Liane Pearce and Tony Morgan, 21, a recently returned missionary, have joined the brigade of traffic wardens, or “yellow peril” (referring to the stripes on their uniforms) as they are more commonly called, assigned to traffic control on London’s busy streets.
It’s hard work—long hours trudging the streets in all kinds of weather—and they are the targets for abuse, both verbal and physical, from angry motorists. But they both say they love their unusual job.
Because they are the only members of the Church in their brigade, they have plenty of opportunities for missionary work. As far as rough language of fellow workers is concerned, Liane says, “Tony and I turn a deaf ear. People know we are members of the Church and, strangely enough, seem to be respectful to us.
“People imagine all we do is hand out parking tickets,” she continues, “but that’s only a small part of it. We consider we are doing a public service by directing the traffic, keeping the roads clear for other motorists, and working school crossing patrols.”

One of the most challenging things I’ve ever overcome was my “I don’t care” attitude. If I wasn’t passionate about what I was doing, I was cold and impatient with people.
This all changed one school break when I was asked to care for my 76-year-old grandfather. “Dadi,” as we called him, had suffered a stroke, which left him half-paralyzed. When my family asked me to care for him for two months, I couldn’t even imagine how!
I had to wake up early to prepare his breakfast, his bath, and his medicine. I helped him walk around for his daily exercise. Since he had difficulty moving, I was by his side at all times, including during his bath and his toilet. As an 18-year-old girl, this was the hardest part.
Aside from all this, he was difficult to be with. He is not a member of the Church and has different principles than I do. He was a man full of regrets—always shouting, never smiling, and constantly saying, “I’m dying!” Because of this attitude, it was hard for us to share a good bond.
At first, I did all I could to avoid my tasks, but that didn’t work. So I decided to change my attitude and give my best effort.
After a week of this new attitude, serving Dadi became a joy to me. My patience grew, and I came to understand his affliction. As I served him, I stopped thinking of being with him as a burden but rather as an opportunity to create good times with him.
Dadi changed too. This frowning old man became a smiling, gentle grandpa. He even came to like listening to Especially for Youth songs!
One night I heard him making some noise, so I looked into his room to find out what he was doing. He was praying for the first time. I’m inspired every day by this change.
Now I’m back at college, but I still go twice a month to visit Dadi with my family. We eat with him and sing for him. His health has worsened, so now the most powerful help that I can give is prayers on his behalf.
I’m grateful for the opportunity to watch over Dadi because it helped me see what I’m capable of giving. Love is a very powerful thing—it softened both my heart and Dadi’s. I have learned the meaning of sacrifice and compassion. Truly, charity enlightens every heart!

Sister LaRue Longden, a former counselor in the General Presidency of the Young Women, was a ward Young Women’s president at the time of the serious illness of her little daughter. She and Brother Longden were kneeling in fervent prayer by the side of their bed when word came that the little girl had passed away. They were heartbroken. But after the funeral all the leaders and the young women held flowers and formed an aisle while she, their president, had to walk past them. And during this time of intense emotion she suddenly realized that they were watching her. “I had to live what I’d been teaching,” Sister Longden said. “I had to be an example of what I really believed.” So she lifted her chin and smiled her famous smile upon them.

At the top of Mr. Gellért, high above the magnificent city of Budapest, Hungary, two sister missionaries search for a secluded spot in a grove of trees where they can be alone and unobserved.
They open their scriptures and bring out a typewritten copy of a prayer—the apostolic blessing, newly translated into the Hungarian language, that Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve pronounced on Hungary in April 1987. It was here on Mt. Gellért—overlooking the Danube River, with the hills of Buda on one side and the plains of Pest on the other—that Elder Nelson originally gave this prayer, asking the Lord to pour out his blessings upon the nation and its people. Now, kneeling reverently among the trees, the sisters quietly review the prayer aloud in their own tongue. Overhead, a warm breeze gently stirs the leaves, and the bright sun shines in a cloudless sky. For a few moments, the sisters are enveloped in a spirit of warmth and peace.
Sisters. They love the sound of that word. There’s no family relationship between Sister Nagy Erika and Sister Pálinkás Bernadett. (Hungarian surnames are used first, followed by the given names.) And they met for the first time after becoming missionaries. But no sisters could feel more united in purpose and spirit. Their mission is filled with a sense of history in the making: These sisters are sharing the privilege of being the first two Hungarian citizens ever to serve as full-time missionaries in Hungary.
“For me,” says Sister Pálinkás, “it’s unbelievable that we Hungarians can actually do this now—hear the gospel message and then serve as missionaries.” Indeed, the events that brought them to this opportunity are miraculous. For nearly 40 years, Hungary was a communist-controlled socialist state, with no freedom of religion. In June 1988, just one year after Elder Nelson gave his dedicatory prayer, the Church received official recognition in this land. In October 1989, Hungary became a democracy, and in July 1990 a mission of the Church was opened in Budapest. Sister Nagy and Sister Pálinkás were baptized within a month of each other in 1992.
“I believe Elder Nelson was an instrument in the hands of God when he gave this blessing,” Sister Nagy says. “As I studied it again today, I thought about all the missionaries who are here right now and all the missionaries who will come later, after us. The prayer talks about all of them. I thought about the youth. I thought about all the stakes and wards that Elder Nelson prophesied would dot this land. I thought, too, about our Hungarian national anthem, which starts out ‘God Bless the Hungarians.’ God really has blessed the Hungarians!”
“Of course, we Latter-day Saints aren’t the only ones proselyting in Hungary,” says Sister Pálinkás. “Missionaries from many, many other churches are here now, too. This makes it hard for the people. After a long period of everything being forbidden, now it’s completely free as far as religion goes—and the people are a bit scared and confused and overwhelmed with all of these churches. Many keep to themselves a little bit and don’t want to make any decisions.
“That’s why our way of spreading the gospel is so important. If we do it with love, with Christlike love, and show them that we care for them and are not doing it for other reasons, then I don’t think there’s a person in the world whose heart won’t be touched.”
Both of these sisters know firsthand the religious confusion and uncertainty some of their investigators are feeling. Sister Pálinkás Bernadett is from Dunaújváros, a factory city built by Joseph Stalin as a model Communist city. For many years, there were no churches at all in the city. “My parents are not believers in God,” she says. “But somehow I felt close to Him and felt that He loved me.
“I often thought about what I was doing here on earth, what the purpose of life was, why I was born here in Hungary and not somewhere else, and why now and not earlier or later. Something was missing in my life, but I didn’t know exactly what.”
When Bernadett was almost 20, two American missionaries came into the store where she sold office supplies. “My co-workers and I could tell from the very first that these young men were different from others,” she remembers. “There was something shining from their eyes that made me very curious as to who they were and what they were doing here in Hungary. I felt that they could show me something that I didn’t know—something that I needed to know.”
Bernadett and a co-worker arranged to hear the first discussion. Although her friend soon lost interest, Bernadett attended sacrament meeting alone the following Sunday and was baptized a month later, on 22 August 1992. A year and a half later, she became a full-time missionary. None of her family has yet been baptized.
Bernadett’s parents are not happy with either decision—to be baptized or to serve a mission. “It hurts them because they don’t understand what I’m doing and why, even though I’ve tried to explain it to them. When I decided to be a missionary, my first goal was to somehow bring my parents closer to the Church. Now I recognize that each person has to personally walk the road to get to God, and it takes some people longer than others. I write to my parents every week and pray for them always.”
Although Bernadett doesn’t hear from her family, she is grateful for letters from branch members—especially the youth—back home. And she has a lot of support around her in the mission. Her first zone leader was the missionary who had baptized her in Dunaújváros a year and a half earlier! “When he baptized me, he was a beginner missionary,” she says. “Now I was a beginner, and he was more experienced. I felt very proud to be able to work at the same time with him.”
In April 1992, Nagy Erika was 20 years old and was living with her family in the city of Nyiregyháza when a friend encouraged them to listen to the missionaries. Erika’s father, a devout Christian, had taught his family about God, and the whole family had attended their own church earlier that day. “But when the two elders came in the door and greeted us—my parents and all eight of us children—we felt a surprising feeling of happiness because of the spirit that came from them.”
With that spirit, the missionaries “became our friends,” says Erika. “It was wonderful how they showed their love to us—to my younger brothers and sister, to us older children, and to our parents—and how they talked about their own parents with such love and respect. We thought that if someday, somehow, we could show this much love to other people, that would be a great thing. When they began talking about God and Jesus Christ, a wonderful discussion flowed between us.”
After the second discussion, the family suddenly lost contact with the missionaries. First, one of the elders was transferred. Then, unexpectedly, Erika’s family had to move to Budapest. “Every evening I tried to pray—the best I knew how—and I asked God to help me find somebody to talk to about what the missionaries had taught us.”
Two months after moving to Budapest, Erika had one of those days when everything seemed to go wrong. First, she missed her bus. Then she had to walk a great distance in the rain. When she finally reached a subway station, she was feel’mg pretty discouraged. “Then, whi1e waiting for the subway, I suddenly noticed two elders-and one of them was the one who had taught us in Nyiregyháza! I couldn’t believe it—in a city of more than two million people!”
The discussions immediately resumed with the family, and Erika was baptized alone on 13 September 1992, just five months after first meeting the missionaries. By December, seven of the ten family members had also been baptized. And she is confident the other three will follow. “In every letter, I send them good spiritual messages, and they are progressing,” she says with a smile.
A year after her baptism, Erika received her mission call to Hungary. “I was happy to be called to serve my own people in my own language. But I worried whether I was worthy to be the first Hungarian citizen to serve in Hungary and if I would be able to give the people what they needed. I prayed about it and felt many special feelings that night. I knew that God loved me and my family. I felt very close to God.”
As the two sisters reminisce about experiences they are having as missionaries, it is obvious that they are being richly blessed by the Lord in their efforts. “When I went to my first city as a new missionary,” says Sister Pálinkás, “my companion and I looked in our planners and there was nothing scheduled. I said, ‘Oh no, what are we going to do?’ But we went out and worked hard. I learned that when there’s an empty day in our planners, we can say, ‘No problem; we’re going to teach three or four discussions.’ Then we include in our prayers a plea to the Lord to help us with that righteous desire. I’ve learned that if we ask with real faith and real intent, the Lord will help us with it, as long as it’s according to his will.”
The joy of seeing a person change his life and be baptized is the greatest reward. “I can’t express how excited I was for my first baptism as a missionary,” says Sister Pálinkás. “I felt as if I could fly because of the happiness. It was a great thing to know that this wonderful person was going to be a member of the Lord’s church—a person whom I and many other members could learn from.”
As these sisters see it, the preaching of the gospel in Hungary is both a beginning and an end. “The gospel gives us Hungarians a new start,” says Sister Pálinkás. “We have a chance to come to know God and his gospel and to know ourselves. Maybe this means an end to the feeling some people have had that they needed to be apart from everyone else, that they couldn’t love each other.”
“Big walls are falling down and gates are opening up because of the gospel,” says Sister Nagy. “Over the years, we’ve built walls to protect us from things that were going to happen in our lives, and love and brotherliness were missing. But the gospel helps us open the gates to love and service.”

Fourteen-year-old Clara Lacy and her niece could have been killed.
“I was taking her to school in a Blackstone neighborhood,” Clara says. “This boy was throwing gang signs across the street, and some other boys were throwing them back. He ran right in front of me just as they started shooting at him. He got shot in the leg. I almost got shot. Then another boy got a gun he’d hidden in a garbage can in the alley and started shooting back at the boys across the street. I put my little niece on my back and started running.”
Unfortunately, Clara’s experience isn’t that unusual for a teenager growing up in Chicago’s inner city. It is a place of danger, drugs, violence, and fear. Each day is filled with uncertainty. There are few incentives to do well in school. Unwed parents and nonfunctioning families are commonplace. Everyone seems to have been the victim of, or knows someone close who has been the victim of, serious crime.
Of course it’s not that bad everywhere all the time. There are quiet neighborhoods. There are good friends, strong families, and honest efforts to improve. Life goes on. But it is often life in the shadow of fear, the sort of shadow that can make the future seem bleak.
If only someone could open a window and let Clara glimpse a better life. Maybe then hope could grow in place of despair.
Such a window is being opened, thanks to a nonprofit foundation called the Inner City Youth Charitable Trust. Each summer, two groups of 20 boys each, one ages 9–11 and one ages 12–14, attend a three-week camp called Summer Quarters. Facilities are located in farm country 50 miles north of Chicago, and students from Ricks College of Rexburg, Idaho, serve as counselors. Twenty girls ages 12–18 attend the three-week Lucy Mack Smith Summer Jam—Yes I Can day camp, held at the Hyde Park/Ryan Woods chapel but with field trips to various locations. Again, students from Ricks’ Urban Discovery program serve as counselors.
The inner-city youth participants are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or relatives or friends of members. Clara, for example, is a member of the Ryan Woods Ward, Chicago Heights Illinois Stake. Each participant must be interviewed and recommended by a bishop and agree to abide by Church standards. A number of the inner-city youth are repeat participants, having benefitted from the program several summers in a row.
The trust (which was founded five years ago by Church members but involves other business and professional people) also sponsors Career Adventure, a program for about 20 inner-city youth ages 14–18. It includes a one-week exploration of career opportunities and tours of businesses with student counselors who have come to Chicago from Brigham Young University. And it teams up participants with mentors who will help the teenagers acquire job skills and employment opportunities.
The overall program isn’t huge. But it is an effort that is teaching a lot to both streetwise kids and previously sheltered students.
“I think the whole purpose is for the boys to realize that there’s more in life than the violence and the gangs,” says Summer Quarters counselor Hans “Maddy” Madsen. “It’s also to help us as counselors to realize that there are people in need.

“It’s hard for me to imagine the kind of society where you never feel safe,” he continues. “I come from a stable home with both parents. Most of these kids only have one parent or they’re living with their grandma or a cousin or someone else.

“One boy told me of at least 25 incidents where he had seen people shot, stabbed, or killed. Those were just the ones he could remember at the moment. Another boy had his cousin die in his arms.”
Statistics show that 80 percent of inner-city children have witnessed violence first-hand by the time they are four years old, according to statistics the Ricks students receive in their sociology classes.
“They are very mature in some ways,” Maddy says. “But they have witnessed so much that they’re calloused. They’re not used to trusting people. That’s one of the things we try to teach them—that there are people you can trust.”
That trust is built in a variety of ways. Boys and counselors go on bike rides or go swimming together. With adult volunteers from the Buffalo Grove and Naperville Illinois Stakes, they work on school skills, like math and spelling. They sing songs and put on skits. They visit a dairy and a toolbox manufacturer. The boys work one-on-one with counselors on simple projects, like building model planes and toy boats.
“Some of the things we do at camp, like making boats and planes, are good things to do at home when you’re alone or bored and there’s nothing to do,” says Chris Woods, 12, who is investigating the Church. “They’ll keep us off the streets, keep us from getting physical and threatening somebody.”
The girls’ field trips take them to a construction site, a radio station, a bank, and a hotel. During workshops at the chapel, they learn to play songs on the piano and lead music; act in plays; write journals; and sew quilts, pillows, and curtains. They play sports and rehearse for job interviews.
“We learn a lot of practical things,” says Qawi Wafford, 12, of the Chicago First Ward, Wilmette Illinois Stake.
And whether it’s at the chapel in town or at camp in the country, there is also a spiritual level of trust that’s growing.
“Because of the gospel we feel a kinship,” says Elisa McConkie, a Summer Jam counselor. “But a lot of them don’t understand what the Church is all about and what it has to offer them. So we try to explain that. And a lot of them are lacking love, which is something we as counselors can give. We give them moral support, verbal support, a lot of guidance. And we try to encourage them to think about their future, things like, ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’”
“Our lives are centered around eternity, getting married, raising a family, getting an education,” says Summer Jam Counselor Brandi McCoy. “A lot of those ideas are foreign to them. They never think about tomorrow, just today. Making it past the eighth grade is a monumental feat for some of them. One of the girls asked me what it was like to have a peaceful night’s rest, because every night in the city she hears gunshots and sirens. Another asked me if I was always scared in high school, if I’d ever had to run home from school, or if anyone had tried to beat me up.

“Too many times people forget they have souls,” she continues. “But when we were here singing ‘Walk Tall, You’re a Daughter of God,’ I saw the light shining in their eyes. And when we talk about the temple and about eternal families, even though you can tell it’s hard for them to grasp, you can tell it’s something they want to live for.”
“At Summer Quarters we read the scriptures every night,” explains counselor Dan Kolilis. “Just last night we went out to the tents where the boys stay and had pop and chips with them. Then we read in the Book of Mormon about Jesus Christ blessing the little children. All of this year’s male counselors are returned missionaries, so we talked about our missions. Then we read the verse that says: ‘Therefore, go ye unto your homes, and ponder upon the things which I have said, and ask of the Father, in my name, that ye may understand’ (3 Ne. 17:3). It was the last night of the camp. We wanted them to go home, as we will go home, to think about how, with the gospel in their lives, the Lord will help them and guide them.”
The inner-city youth, like a lot of teens, don’t talk at length about what they feel in their hearts. Ask about Summer Jam or Summer Quarters, and their phrases are mainly short ones, like, “I feel safe here” or “I wish we could stay forever.”
But they do say they hope their counselors will write to them. And they do have a very hard time, after the farewell picnic, letting go of the hugs and saying good-bye.
The programs are short, and the inner city is strong. But through an open window comes air and light, enough to keep hope alive.

Speaking of responsibility, it reminds me of a story I heard some time ago of an individual who was a bit reluctant one morning to meet his commitments. It went something like this:
The kind motherly figure entered the darkened bedroom and gently said, "Get up Donald. It’s time to get ready for school."
The silent figure didn't move at first and then quietly turned over, pulling the covers up over his head.
With a firm tone in her voice, she said, “Donald, get up right this minute. Your breakfast is getting cold, you're going to miss the bus, and you'll be late for school."
Pulling the covers back down, Donald turned over and replied, “I don't want to go to school! Nobody likes me. The kids make fun of me, and even my teachers all hate me."
"Now Don, stop making excuses. You must go to school. You have responsibilities and you have made commitments. Besides, you're forty years old, and you're the school principal. Now get up and get dressed."

A highlight of Boys Nation for me was meeting then president Dwight D. Eisenhower in the Rose Garden of the White House. He was one of the most impressive men I have ever met. His deportment and bearing, his piercing blue eyes, and his commanding manner of address made an indelible impression on me. Senator Wallace F. Bennett of Utah hosted the two of us who were representing Utah. He was gracious and kind and devoted considerable time to us. He introduced us to then senators John F. Kennedy and Lyndon B. Johnson, as well as then vice president Richard M. Nixon, all of whom would be future presidents. The topic of civil rights was significant at that time. It was at Boys Nation that I was first introduced to the religious-based effort led by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. to achieve equality.

My admiration for President Eisenhower grew when a few months later, on September 23, 1957, he ordered the National Guard to support integration and protect the nine African American students who were attempting to integrate into Little Rock Central High School. The president’s action was in support of the Supreme Court’s decision of 1954, Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka, requiring integration of public schools.

Let me give you a story of a woman in São Paulo, Brazil. She worked while going to school to provide for her family. I use her own words in telling this story. She says:

“The university in which I studied had a regulation that prohibited the students that were in debt from taking tests. For this reason, when I received my salary I would first separate the money for tithing and offerings, and the remainder was allotted for the payment of the school and other expenses.

“I remember a time when I … faced serious financial difficulties. It was a Thursday when I received my salary. When I figured the monthly budget, I noticed that there wouldn’t be enough to pay [both] my tithing and my university. I would have to choose between them. The bimonthly tests would start the following week, and if I didn’t take them I could lose the school year. I felt great agony. … My heart ached. I had a painful decision before me, and I didn’t know what to decide. I pondered between the two choices: to pay tithing or to risk the possibility of not obtaining the necessary credits to be approved in school.

“This feeling consumed my soul and remained with me up to Saturday. It was then that I remembered that when I was baptized I had agreed to live the law of tithing. I had taken upon myself an obligation, not with the missionaries, but with my Heavenly Father. At that moment, the anguish started to disappear, giving place to a pleasant sensation of tranquility and determination. …

“That night when I prayed, I asked the Lord to forgive me for my indecision. On Sunday, before the beginning of sacrament meeting, I contacted the bishop, and with great pleasure I paid my tithing and offerings. That was a special day. I felt happy and peaceful within myself and with Heavenly Father.

“The next day I was in my office; I tried to find a way to be able to take the tests that would begin on Wednesday. The more I thought, the further I felt from a solution. At that time I worked in an attorney’s office, and my employer was the most strict and austere person I had ever met.

“The working period was ending when my employer approached and gave the last orders of the day. When he had done so, with his briefcase in his hand he bid farewell. … Suddenly he halted, and looking at me he asked, ‘How is your college?’ I was surprised, and I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The only thing I could answer with a trembling voice was, ‘Everything is all right!’ He looked thoughtfully at me and bid farewell again. …

“Suddenly the secretary entered the room, saying that I was a very fortunate person! When I asked her why, she simply answered: ‘The employer has just said that from today on the company is going to pay fully for your college and your books. Before you leave, stop at my desk and inform me of the costs so that tomorrow I can give you the check.’

“After she left, crying and feeling very humble, I knelt exactly where I was and thanked the Lord for His generosity. I … said to Heavenly Father that He didn’t have to bless me so much. I only needed the cost of one month’s installment, and the tithing I had paid on Sunday was very small compared to the amount I was receiving! During that prayer the words recorded in Malachi came to my mind: ‘Prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it’ (Mal. 3:10). Up to that moment I had never felt the magnitude of the promise contained in that scripture and that this commandment was truly a witness of the love that God, our Heavenly Father, gives to His children here on earth.”

I can still remember when my parents took our family to the newly erected Swiss Temple, the first in Europe, to become a forever family. I was 16 then and the youngest of four children. We knelt together at the altar to be sealed on earth by the power of the priesthood, with a wonderful promise that we could be sealed for eternity. I will never forget this magnificent moment.
As a boy I was quite impressed that we crossed country borders to be sealed as a family. To me it symbolizes the way temple work crosses worldly boundaries to bring eternal blessings to all the inhabitants of the earth. The temples of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints are truly built for the benefit of all the world, irrespective of nationality, culture, or political orientation.

My Grandfather Rose was very ill with heart problems. To help my grandmother with his care, our family decided that we would take turns sleeping at my grandparents’ house to help out. My mother and my aunts went over most often, but one weekend I asked if I could spend the night.
I was reclining in a chair next to my grandfather’s bed. He was sleeping well that night, which was unusual. I was just falling asleep myself when my granddad rolled over and said, “Carl, shape up.” Then he rolled back over and went back to sleep.
I didn’t know what he meant. I wasn’t a bad kid. But I wasn’t able to fall asleep the rest of the night. I stayed up thinking about what my granddad meant by telling me to “shape up.”
I thought about his words for the next few days, trying to figure out what I needed to shape up in my life. A few days later, I went again to my grandparents’ home to rub my grandfather’s back. I finished that and sat down to talk to my grandma. She said, “Carl, Granddad prays that you will gain the desire to serve a mission for the Lord.”
Later that night I was working at my gymnastics exercises. I heard my coach yelling at me to concentrate. I was so caught up thinking about the conversation that I had with my grandma and the decision I had to make that it was hard for me to work out. I was torn between a college scholarship for gymnastics and a mission.
As I was lying in bed later that night, I thought back to my granddad saying, “Carl, shape up.” I thought about whether my priorities were where they should be. They weren’t. I realized that my number-one priority was gymnastics, not the Lord and his work. I finally figured out what my granddad meant. He meant that I needed to shape up my soul and my mind. The only way to do that was to start going to seminary and church.
Not long after I began to “shape up,” I read the Book of Mormon for the first time in my life. As I did, I took the prophet Moroni’s advice and prayed about the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith. Through these exercises, I not only gained the desire to serve a mission, but I also found the light and life of the world, Jesus Christ.

At the age of 16, he left the Church of England and later became a lay preacher for the Methodist Church. On one occasion when he was with one of his parish members on the way to an appointment, he stopped in the road and said, “I have a strong impression on my mind, that I have to go to America to preach the gospel!”2 This impression remained with him.
When John Taylor did leave England in 1832, he traveled to Canada, following his family, who had emigrated in 1830. There he met and married Leonora Cannon. Canada was also where he encountered a missionary named Parley P. Pratt, an Apostle of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Many in the Methodist congregation where Elder Pratt preached were thrilled with his message until he told them of the Prophet Joseph Smith and the gold plates. Several of the men refused to listen further. John Taylor reminded them: “We are here, ostensibly in search of truth. Hitherto we have fully investigated other creeds and doctrines and proven them false. Why should we fear to investigate Mormonism? This gentleman, Mr. Pratt, has brought to us many doctrines that correspond with our own views. … We have prayed to God to send us a messenger, if He has a true Church on earth. … If I find his religion true, I shall accept it, no matter what the consequences may be.”3
John Taylor continued investigating the gospel, and on 9 May 1836 he and Leonora were baptized. In his later years, President Taylor remarked, “When I had investigated the subject, and became convinced that it was true, I said, ‘I am in for it; I must embrace it; I cannot reject the principles of eternal truth.’”4

As my own children have left home, lived in apartments, and gone on missions, I have wondered what values would be carried into their new environments. Their experiences have been a reminder to me of the importance of service as one starts to create trust in a new environment.

After a mission my youngest daughter decided to face apartment living again. On her first trip home I inquired about the apartment.

Mary said, “This is going to be hard! One of my roommates is newly engaged, and her boyfriend and his friends are always hanging around. There are piles of dirty dishes, and nobody seems to pick up anything.”

The next time Mary came home, she seemed cheerful. I said, “How’s the apartment doing?”

She replied, “A little better.”

“What happened?” I said.

“Well,” she said, “the first day I got home before the others, I scrubbed down the bathroom. I was surprised, but it made a difference.”

The first roommate came home and walked out of the bathroom with a shocked expression and asked, “Who cleaned the bathroom ?”

Mary said, “I did.”

“Yourself?”

“Yes.”

“How come?”

Mary said simply, “I like clean bathrooms.”

Mary told me, “I’m surprised, but I just try to do little things, and there is a good feeling. It’s far from perfect, but I think I’m going to like it.”

Within a few weeks one of the roommates suggested it might be nice to have prayer together. It does take time and effort to create a caring environment and to learn to love people, but an act of service is a good beginning. Each one of us, like Mary, must make a contribution in order to feel like we belong. This contribution of love and service is essential to an environment of trust.

I have seen that promise fulfilled in my own life and in the lives of others. A friend of mine served as a mission president. He told me that at the end of every day while he was serving, he could barely make it upstairs to bed at night wondering if he would have the strength to face another day. Then in the morning, he would find his strength and his courage restored. You have seen it in the lives of aged prophets who seemed to be renewed each time they stood to testify of the Lord Jesus Christ and the restored gospel. That is a promise for those who go forward in faith in their priesthood service.

Anna sat quietly in her Primary class. She looked at the picture of Jesus that Sister Albo held.
“Does anyone know what a testimony is?” Sister Albo asked.
Anna raised her hand. “Is it saying that we know the Church is true?”
“That’s part of it.” Sister Albo smiled. “When we share our testimony, we share what we know or believe is true about Jesus Christ and the Church. What do you know is true, Anna?”
Anna thought about it. “I know that Jesus loves me!”
“Yes, He does. You have a testimony that Jesus loves you.”
After church, Mommy asked, “What did you learn in Primary today, Anna?”
“I learned what a testimony is. When can I share my testimony?”
“Any time you want!” Daddy said. “We can have our own testimony meeting in home evening.”
Anna liked that idea. “We can even dress in our Sunday clothes!”
When it was time for home evening, Anna put on her favorite dress.
“Welcome to our family testimony meeting,” Daddy said.
Anna’s brother, Ethan, went first. “I know the gospel is true. I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet. I know that Russell M. Nelson is our prophet today. I know that Jesus Christ lives.”
Then it was Anna’s turn. She stood up. “I love Jesus very much. I know He loves me. He cares about me and makes me happy. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.” Her heart felt warm.
Mommy gave her a hug. “Thank you, Anna. I could feel how much you love Jesus.”
Anna smiled. “Sharing my testimony makes me happy.”

To supplement his discharge pay of 80 pounds sterling, William found work as a butcher. He was hired at good wages by none other than his former employer at Maldon, Mr. Blaxall, the man who fired him years before for joining the Latter-day Saints. William returned to Maldon and worked for about a year, during which period he had two pressing goals: emigrating to Zion and “selecting me a wife.” At first he dated his employer’s wife’s sister, Lucy Gipp, but their romance cooled when she would not join the Church. Mr. Blaxall once took William aside and offered to set him up in a good meat business if he would relinquish Mormonism and marry Miss Gipp. William told him, “I could never do that because I know Mormonism is true, and I would never marry a nonmember of the Church.”
Early in 1862 the seaman met and fell in love with Elizabeth Gentry, the attractive, 16-year-old daughter of the branch president in Maldon. Her mother had joined the Church in 1853, Elizabeth in 1854, and her blacksmith father the next year. Brother Gentry and William, converts the same year, had served together as priests at preaching services around Maldon before William’s navy service.
When William and Elizabeth became engaged, they counseled with traveling elder Francis M. Lyman about immigrating to Zion. Elder Lyman, later a member of the Council of the Twelve, advised the couple to join the emigrating company he was then organizing. They agreed. The Gentrys felt sad to have their teenage daughter leave them, but they too planned to emigrate as soon as their funds would allow it. Before departing, William introduced his fiancée to his family. “They all treated us kindly,” he recalled, “but expressed their sorrow that we were led away by such a disreputable people.”
The couple joined other emigrating Saints at London and then the group traveled to Liverpool and boarded the old sailing ship William Tapscott, which had been specially chartered by Church emigration agents. For the voyage the vessel received one of the largest Latter-day Saint companies ever to emigrate together across the Atlantic, numbering 800 souls from the British Isles, Denmark, and Sweden. “It was an interesting sight,” William reported, “to see the Saints boarding the ship with all kinds of tin utensils tied in bunches and some were carrying their straw mattresses on their heads, while others were loaded down with all kinds of parcels and lunch baskets. Some had old pieces of furniture … or some old picture of great-grandparents.”
William thought it remarkable how quickly the large crowd, divided into shipboard wards headed by specially appointed presiding elders, became orderly. “I do not think the same number of non-Mormons would have settled down to such order,” the veteran of shipboard life observed. “Nothing but the Spirit of the Lord would produce such harmony.” The ship cleared Liverpool docks on May 13, 1862.
Ward teachers were assigned to each family, and Elder Lyman requested William to be responsible for the welfare of seven emigrants, including Elizabeth. The seaman obtained their rations, arranged for their food to be cooked, and performed other needed services. The slow, six-week voyage, characterized by rough seas and much seasickness, ended at Castle Garden in New York. The company passed health inspections, then boarded trains for St. Louis. Because the American Civil War then was escalating, “we were routed and changed about a number of times. At one place we were hustled on board of a freight train. The cars had been loaded with hogs and they had not been swept or cleaned out, thus we were choked with the dust and could taste it for days afterwards.”
At the Missouri River they transferred to a small steamboat. It arrived near Council Bluffs very late at night, and passengers and baggage were unloaded helter-skelter in the darkness. At daybreak the weary travelers located their scattered luggage, then assembled at the Church’s emigration campground. There they were organized into companies of tens, fifties, and hundreds by Church emigration agent Joseph W. Young. William, being a military veteran, was named captain of the guards.
Wagons and teams had to be readied, baggage loaded, food supplies purchased and packed, and teamsters trained. While this outfitting was underway, the camp was struck by a violent storm with high winds, torrential rains, and vivid lightnings. Cattle broke loose and stampeded, doing great damage. Lightning killed at least two Saints and badly injured several others. Floods washed gullies ten feet deep in places. During the storm William, as captain of the guards, was called on to help a sister give birth under a collapsed tent—and both mother and son remained his lifelong friends in Utah. The company needed two or three days to recover from the storm, and many Saints never found boxes and bags washed away by the flash floods.
A Brother Cooper, noticing William’s skill with cattle, hired him to break his teams to yoke and then drive them to Utah. In return William and Elizabeth were promised free transportation. A few days later, however, their employer announced that he did not intend to go to Zion but wanted them to help him farm nearby. When William refused, he and Elizabeth were ordered out of the wagon and left without food or water.
Elizabeth wept bitterly. William’s thoughts focused on his 50-foot rope that Cooper had taken. Then, with his fiancée following to calm him down, William hiked the half hour to Cooper’s evening camp. When he approached the cow to which his rope was tied, Cooper “drew a beeline on me with his old Yorker.” Without hesitation, William cut loose the cow, coiled his rope, then marched up to the disagreeable man and announced: “Mr. Cooper, I am going to lay off my religion and give you a licking so you won’t forget me.” Which he did.
Fortunately for the stranded couple, Elders Lyman and Charles C. Rich rode in from the West and found them that evening. They arranged for Elizabeth to ride to Utah with a family named Wardell for 40 dollars. Elder Lyman, however, asked William to return to Florence to help with the D. F. Kimball freight train. The fiancé agreed to this separation reluctantly:
“I think this was the greatest trial I ever underwent—to leave my betrothed and go back. However, I submitted and kissed my girl good-bye and gave her a half sovereign, all the money I had in the world, and jumped in the buckboard and off we went, I with a sorrowful heart and a mind full of reflections as to the outcome of it all. Brother Rich found I was in tears and told me to cheer up and have faith and all would be well.”
At Florence the freight train was being fitted out by young men William had met aboard the William Tapscott and by some young Utahns dressed in fringed and tasseled buckskins—“rough looking Saints they seemed to me,” he said. But after hearing one of the Utahns pray, the Britisher became convinced of these frontiersmen’s faithfulness. William received three assignments to perform during the trip to Utah: drive four yoke of cattle, stand guard half of every night, and grease every wagon every 60 miles. For his labors he would receive 30 dollars per month.
His first night in camp provided the other men with a good laugh then and for years after. William, preparing for bed, reached in his bag for what he thought were duck sailor overalls and instead he held up “some sort of ladies’ unmentionables trimmed and adorned with lace.” His comrades roared. He had taken his sweetheart’s bag by mistake instead of his own! But perhaps the seaman had the last laugh: while the freight company members slept on hard ground every night for three months, William rested comfortably in his sea hammock, slung each night between two wagon wheels. On rainy nights he simply covered himself and hammock with canvas.
Day by day the scenery and travel grew increasingly tiresome. Near Chimney Rock some of the cattle became diseased and died, forcing the company to double team the wagons and make shorter drives each day. William began to think he would never get to Utah and rejoin Elizabeth. He became particularly depressed when the company passed places on the plains strewn with bleached bones upon which messages—including declarations of love—had been written by previous companies. “I began to worry that someone would pick up a rib with ‘Miss E. Gentry loves someone or married someone or is to be married to someone.’”
Cattle continued dying, so the company was forced to send for assistance from the valley. Finally one October Saturday, William’s company descended the hills above Salt Lake City, awed by a beautiful sunset across the Great Salt Lake and by the splendid square-blocked city stretched out below them. As they approached the city, an occupant of a nearby cabin called and waved to William. It was Sister Wardell, the woman with whom Elizabeth had traveled to Utah! William hurried to her, but his anticipation was instantly crushed. She informed him that Elizabeth no longer loved him and planned to marry a local polygamist! “This was like a bolt of thunder to me,” he recalled. Heartsick, the young man continued with the company to the valley floor, then returned that night to the Wardells. The woman tried to persuade William to marry her daughter, but he was not interested. “I formed a resolution that I was going to have the ‘love of my youth,’” he said.
Friends from Maldon lived in Centerville, so early the next week William hiked 12 miles to locate them. He arrived at night, and “to my great joy the girl of my heart was found lying asleep on an old home-made lounge and looking fine although almost in rags. She awoke, and her joy was unbounded.” Elizabeth then explained that the Wardell woman had tried to marry her to her own son. That failing, the mother turned the girl out and kept all the clothes and bedding until Elizabeth’s 40-dollar fare was paid in full. The woman then had made up the story about Elizabeth’s loss of affection for William, hoping the navy veteran would marry into the Wardell family.
William returned to Salt Lake City and drove his freight team to Springville where he received his three months’ wages. Then he walked back to Salt Lake, paid off the 40-dollar debt, obtained his and Elizabeth’s belongings, and then got a ride back to Centerville. Two weeks later the engaged couple were married. It was a joyous celebration, William remembered, thanks to neighbors who “came with their old-fashioned squash pies and ground cherry tarts, and … sweet cake and roasted all their roosters, and had roast pork and roast bear and lots of other good things.”
Hard work brought the young couple a fine brick home and prospering meat business in Salt Lake, enabling them to pay for the immigration of Elizabeth’s family in 1867. But the next year the Woods gave up home and career to fill a difficult colonizing mission to Arizona. They returned destitute four years later and took up residence in a tumbledown dugout within sight of their former home. When asked her reactions to this strange turn of fortune, Elizabeth told her husband, “I am glad you filled your mission, and would rather be in this dugout with your mission filled, than in that fine house with your mission unfilled.”
William again left his prospering business and a growing family in 1880 to fill a proselyting mission to his home country. Near the end of that otherwise successful mission he reported:
“I preached the Gospel to my dear ones, my father, mother, brother, and sister, and although none of my own kindred have obeyed, they had to acknowledge they could not confute the doctrine, and they feel to-day that I am not what they judged me to be twenty-seven years ago. When a boy … I obeyed the Gospel of Jesus Christ. They would then say, ‘I believe William is a fool, or he is crazy to join such a deluded people,’ and at the same time say ‘What a pity such a good boy should leave his father, mother, and all to follow after such things.’ They forgot the blessings which Christ promised should follow all who would take up the cross and follow him. … All my dear relations have treated me with marked kindness, as they have any of the Elders that called upon them at the time. I know God will bless them for that.”
Six years after he returned from his mission, his beloved Elizabeth gave birth in her 42nd year to their 13th baby, but within days both mother and baby died. William later remarried, and he and his families went on to gain prominence in Canada where the Wood name became linked with extensive ranching and meat packing interests. William’s son Edward J. served for many years as a stake president and temple president in Alberta.
The year before William died, he wrote up his impressive life story, hoping his example as convert, sailor, pioneer, and missionary might teach young people in the Church that “should their lot be cast away from where they have been taught the gospel … never to yield to any invitation that leads to intemperance or immorality. Always petition the Lord, whether you are called by the servant of God to preach the Gospel or surrounded by the horrors of war—never forget to offer a silent prayer to your Eternal Father. He will not forget you.”
In his youth William Wood received a specific promise by the Spirit that the Lord would be bound to help him if he did what the Lord asked. On his deathbed William acknowledged that during his adventurous life that promise had been generously fulfilled.

Eli looked at the pile of homework his friend had dropped off after school. Eli had missed another week of school because of an ear infection.
That evening Eli’s parents came into his room. His mom sat on the side of Eli’s bed and took his hand. “Eli, the doctor thinks you need an operation,” she said.
“What kind of operation?”
“He wants to put tubes in your ears to keep you from getting more infections,” Mom said. “It won’t hurt, and you’ll be out of the hospital in a day.” She squeezed his hand.
Eli trusted his parents. But the idea of having an operation scared him. He thought about the story he had heard in Primary about Joseph Smith. When Joseph was seven years old, the bone in his leg became infected. The infection got worse until the doctor decided that he must remove part of the bone or Joseph might lose his leg or even die.
Eli thought about Joseph’s courage and faith in his father. “Can I have a blessing, Dad?” he asked. Eli knew a priesthood blessing could help him. At the beginning of the school year, Eli’s father had given him a blessing.
“That’s a great idea,” his father said.
Eli’s mother folded her arms and bowed her head. Eli felt his father’s hands on his head. His father’s voice grew in confidence as he blessed Eli that he would not be scared and that he would recover completely.
When the blessing was over, Eli was no longer afraid. “I can have the operation now,” he said.
Three days later he went to the hospital and returned home the next day. The ear infections soon stopped, and Eli quickly made up the schoolwork he had missed.
Eli was grateful that he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and that he could be blessed through the priesthood.