Gospel Story Finder

President Dallin H. Oaks shared how the commandments of God guide and steady our lives. He said: “Our experiences in mortality are like the little boy and his father flying a kite on a windy day. As the kite rose higher, the winds caused it to tug on the connecting string in the little boy’s hand. Inexperienced with the force of mortal winds, he proposed to cut the string so the kite could rise higher. His wise father counseled no, explaining that the string is what holds the kite in place against mortal winds. If we lose our hold on the string, the kite will not rise higher. It will be carried about by these winds and inevitably crash to the earth.”

The hot Venetian sun fills the upstairs room where the teenagers are discussing their upcoming activities. They’re using hesitant, mispronounced Italian, broken English, and some French, so the communication can’t help but break down.
Finally, one of the American boys turns to an Italian boy and translates into German. “Capito!” (understood), the boy replies, and the Young Men/Young Women group continues their discussion.
In September 1985 the Venice Italy Stake was created and the Vicenza Italian Branch and American Serviceman’s Branch were united to become the Vicenza Ward. Together, the youth of the ward are striving to strengthen their testimonies, grow in the gospel, and become united while overcoming language, cultural, and national barriers that in many parts of the world could seem insurmountable.
Vicenza is in northern Italy, where cultures have been blending and languages have been mixing, not for centuries but for millennia. In the shadow of the Alps, on the site of an ancient Roman camp not far from the Brenner Pass into northern Europe, Vicenza has been a trading area and cultural melting pot since the third century B.C.
Vicenza was first conquered by Romans, then by barbarians sweeping out of northern Europe to topple the Roman Empire, then by several medieval city-states, and then absorbed by the Venetian Republic in the 14th century. In the 1800s, it was conquered by Napoleon, then controlled by Austria until it became part of the new Italian nation in 1848.
The young men and women of the new Vicenza Ward are like the city itself, a montage of backgrounds, personalities, and nationalities. There are Americans whose fathers are stationed at a nearby military base, Italians from several areas of the country, and a German-American family. The youth are enthusiastic and bi- or tri-lingual, and strive to bridge the communication gap that separates them as much as the cultural differences.
With such diverse backgrounds and languages, Church lessons are different and more condensed than they are in a typical ward. When a missionary is not available to translate a lesson, one of the youth may try to help. But since the young people are more familiar with colloquial terms or schoolbook Italian or English, translating gospel concepts can be quite a challenge.
Some of the newer and younger youth find it difficult as well as distracting to wait for the translation, and they lose their train of thought. The older students, however, most of whom are studying languages, find this a challenge and a benefit.
“I really like how it helps me learn English better,” says Denis Evolani, a 15-year-old who is fluent in German and French and is currently studying English.
Most of the Americans are studying Italian, but many of them are new to Italy and don’t understand much. “I wonder sometimes why I can’t stay where I want to be, where I can understand the language,” says Donna Kennedy, whose family recently arrived in Italy. “But though it’s difficult now, I know that when I leave I’ll wish I didn’t have to.”
Athena Dayley, a senior at the American High School, is often the translator for the Young Women. She finds it challenging but fun. “It is so neat to be able to talk to someone in another language,” Athena says, “but translating at church is really hard, and I get flustered at times and can’t remember what is being said or comprehend the meaning of what I’m translating. All I’m doing is parroting words.”
But the youth have discovered that sometimes spiritual moments transcend the language barrier.
“I seldom cry at movies,” Athena says, “but at girls’ camp the Spirit was so strong that even if I couldn’t understand the words, I couldn’t help but have tears in my eyes.”
American Marc Dayley, 15, who attended the Young Men camp in the Alps, agrees. “You can feel the Spirit so strongly when someone is speaking about the Church, even if you can’t understand the words,” Marc explained. “Listening to other testimonies at camp really strengthened my own.”
The youth activities are very difficult to plan because school schedules for the Italian and American nationalities are very different. The Italian youth go to school six days a week, from 8:30 to 12:30, while the Americans attend school on post five days a week, 8:30–3:30, with many extracurricular activities and sports lasting until 6:30.
The Italians observe “riposo,” when shops and businesses close from 12:30 to 4:00, then reopen until 7:30, and the people often enjoy activities from 8:00 to 11:00 P.M., when most Americans are studying. Stake youth activities are often scheduled on Italian holidays, when American students must go to school. The large boundaries of the stake force many youth to commute an hour by train, so it is very difficult to schedule seminary or activities during the week.
“There are not as many youth activities here as in the States,” says Marc. “But I like the ward dances we have had where we’ve invited other youth from the stake, even if it’s more challenging to flirt with girls in a foreign language.”
Some activities, like volleyball, soccer, dancing, and camping, are universal, and can be enjoyed equally by all; while others, like scripture chases, Church knowledge games, and drama, are far more difficult because of the language problems. Food is another thing. Some youth are hesitant to try pumpkin pie, hot dogs, pizza romano (with anchovies), and other foods that may look or taste different. Yet they usually try some of everything and generally admit they like it “a little.”
These youth enjoy an opportunity to live in Europe and to gain an appreciation of another culture, whether it is the Americans viewing priceless Renaissance art or the Italians learning to play football. But they admit that it’s hard at times to be a member of the Church in Italy.
“In the States, most people know what the standards of the Church are, so it’s easier there,” Donna explains. “Here there are more temptations because they don’t know automatically what you stand for or what to expect from you.”
“It’s hard here,” Athena adds. “School activities are set up on Sunday and everyone plays soccer and goes to the movies. Here you’ve got to set your own standards for yourself and stand by them. It has strengthened my testimony.”
But despite the challenges, the youth are growing in unity, not just as a ward youth group but as citizens of the world. This was brought home forcibly to the young women when they participated in an activity that was conducted worldwide. They tied their written testimonies to balloons and released them into the Italian skies.
“I thought of all my friends in Arizona,” Donna said, “and I felt close to them, even though we are far away.”
Living in the mission field, or anywhere in the world as a Mormon youth, is not always easy, nor is gaining a testimony and understanding other cultures and people. But in the Vicenza Ward, the youth are learning to help each other by appreciating each other’s differences and reveling in their similarities.

A six- or seven-year-old boy in the car parked ahead of you turns and sticks his tongue out at you. What should you do?
This happened to Elder Wayne S. Peterson of the Seventy while he was waiting in his car. What do you think he did? Elder Peterson remembered how important it is to choose the right. He said, “I waved at the little boy. He stuck his tongue out at me again. I smiled and waved again. This time he waved back. Soon he was joined … by a little brother and sister. [When their car] pulled away, my newfound friends continued to wave for as long as I could see them.”*
Elder Peterson chose to show his faith in Jesus Christ by following His teachings. The Savior taught, “Therefore, all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them” (3 Ne. 14:12). Elder Peterson felt good as the car drove away, because he had chosen the right.

The young men and women gazing up at the maple leaf, their backs momentarily to the towering present, are Latter-day Saints who call Ottawa their home. They are all Scouts and Beehives, because the priests and teachers, Laurels and Mia Maids, are away at a youth conference in Quebec.
But the young sightseers don’t feel bad about staying behind, because Ottawa is a place for all seasons, and there is nowhere they would rather be. Set in the vast Canadian forests, Ottawa offers miles of bike paths along streams and cataracts. Near at hand are Indian trails and all the myriad benefits of a national capital, including government buildings, parks, and every kind of national museum and gallery. Near the Parliament building runs the Rideau Canal, five miles of which become a well-groomed skating rink every winter, attracting Ottawa en masse to celebrate winter, Canadian style.
Within easy reach of Ottawa are countless miles of wilderness canoeing streams over which voyageurs once paddled and portaged. The Scouts often visit these streams on long, rough canoeing trips, working hard at having a good time and achieving the Chief Scout’s Award, Canada’s highest Scouting honor.
Today they meet at the Centennial Flame. Bubbling up through water symbolizing Canada’s linking rivers, natural gas bursts into a clear flame. First lighted on the midnight separating Canada’s first and second centuries of confederation, it lights the nation to a bright future.
Leaving the flame, the young people walk around the Parliament grounds, reliving Canada’s history, with the statues of great Canadian statesmen as their text.
Then it is time to watch the changing of the guard. Ramrod-straight guardsmen in scarlet tunics and tall bearskin busbies march and countermarch under the summer sun. Afterward, the group chats with one of the guardsmen and examines his busby.
Then comes a tour of the Parliament building. They visit the now-solemn-and-empty chambers of the House of Commons and the Senate, but an aura of political excitement and hot debate still hang over them. They stand silently in the sumptuous Library of Parliament. They walk through corridors of dazzling sculpture, carvings, and stained glass telling the story of a noble heritage and a free people.
Just as they emerge into the sunlight, a handsome Mountie rides up on a tall horse. In the conversation that follows they learn a little bit more about being a Mountie and he learns a little bit about being a Mormon.
Then they all say good-bye and go home to the thousand diversions that summertime Ottawa offers to young people.
But each of them will go through life with just a little greater sense of joy because they have stood under the castle on the winding river and the red maple leaf in the free breeze.
And the young men and women themselves will radiate the very special joy that the gospel awakens in the faces and hearts of God’s children everywhere.

I stood one day some years ago with a Japanese businessman in Hiroshima, beside the monument that marks the events of that tragic August 6, 1945, when in a matter of minutes some 85,000 people were killed. He told me that he had been a member of the Japanese Imperial Army, that out of that experience had come a hatred for all Americans.

One day two of our missionaries knocked on his door. He was too intoxicated to talk with them. All purpose had gone from his life, and his only refuge was drink. Not recognizing them for what they were, he invited them back, and there followed some weeks later his baptism.

With his conversion came purpose into his life, the will to forsake old habits, the strength to turn completely around. He spoke of appreciation for the young men who had taught him and the motivation they had cultivated within him.

At the time of our conversation he was serving as a member of the branch presidency and as an active member of an elders quorum. His case, in essence, can be multiplied thousands of times. There is no other power like the reforming power of the gospel of Jesus Christ to give men the desire and the will to change their lives.

The following day at Far West Church leaders met to hear four demands from General Samuel Lucas: Mormon property was to be confiscated to pay for damages, Church leaders were to surrender for trial and punishment, the balance of the Saints were to be disarmed, and they were to leave the state under militia protection. Joseph Smith, Sidney Rigdon, Lyman Wight, Parley P. Pratt, George W. Robinson, Hyrum Smith, and Amasa Lyman were taken prisoner while the militia plundered Far West. A court-martial quickly sentenced the prisoners to be shot the following morning, and General Lucas ordered General Alexander Doniphan to carry out the order. Doniphan, who had served as an attorney for the Saints previously, responded with a memo: “It is cold-blooded murder. I will not obey your order. My brigade shall march for Liberty tomorrow morning, at 8 o’clock, and if you execute these men, I will hold you responsible before an earthly tribunal, so help me God.” Doniphan’s fearless response prevented the execution. (CHC 1:482.)

Elder Hugh B. Brown of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles (1883–1975) once shared such a lesson he learned while pruning a currant bush on a farm in Canada.
As he went about cleaning up and repairing his property, he came across a currant bush that had grown over six feet high and was yielding no berries. Therefore, he pruned it back drastically, leaving only small, teardrop-shaped stumps. The sight made it appear as if the currant bush were crying, and Elder Brown thought he heard the bush say:
“‘How could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful growth. … And now you have cut me down. … I thought you were the gardener here.’”
Elder Brown replied, “‘Look, little currant bush, I am the gardener here, and I know what I want you to be. If I let you go the way you want to go, you will never amount to anything. But someday, when you are laden with fruit, you are going to think back and say, “Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for cutting me down, for loving me enough to hurt me.”’”7

Angela stormed into the house, slamming her books onto the kitchen table. Her younger brother Caleb watched in shocked silence.
“I’m never going to school again!” Angela yelled. Her anger turned to tears as she dropped into a chair. Between sobs, she wailed, “Sheela Kelly is making my life miserable. I tried to be nice to her when she called me names. I ignored her when she teased me about my clothes. Then today she told everyone that I told her secrets about Ammon Young. Now Ammon’s afraid to talk to me.”
Mom put her arms around Angela. Angela raised her tearstained face. “Mom, Ammon’s the only other Church member in my grade. We always help each other choose the right.” She laid her head against Mom’s shoulder and cried.
Caleb, trying to help, said, “Jesus said to pray for our enemies. Maybe you should pray that Sheela gets really sick and misses lots of school.”
“I don’t think that is what Jesus meant,” Mom gently corrected.
“Maybe you could pray that Sheela moves to another country,” Caleb suggested.
Mom shook her head. “No, Caleb—but you’re right that we should pray for our enemies. In fact, this Sunday is fast Sunday. Let’s use this opportunity to fast for Sheela. When we combine faith, prayers, and fasting, miracles can happen.”
Angela, who had calmed down a bit, sniffled and added, “Like the time we all fasted and prayed for Sister Smith’s baby when he was born two months too soon?”
“That’s right, Angela,” Mom said. “Heavenly Father blessed us for our faith. He always does.”
Angela prayed many times throughout the weekend that Sheela would stop being mean. As she fasted, she hardly noticed when her stomach growled.
Before leaving for school on Monday, Angela knelt once again. “Heavenly Father, please help Sheela to stop being mean. I’ve fasted and prayed. I have faith that Thou canst change her. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Angela bounced happily down the stairs.
“Have a great day,” Mom said.
“Oh, I will—I just know it!” Angela replied.
She was sure she would when she arrived at school and found her teacher had rearranged the desks. Angela was no longer sitting next to Sheela. Angela silently offered a prayer of thanks. Ammon even smiled at her as he walked past her desk. This really is going to be a great day! she thought.
After lunch, she stopped by the rest room to make sure no food was stuck in her braces. Her heart raced when she noticed Sheela. Summoning her courage, Angela smiled and said, “Hi, Sheela—did you have a fun weekend?”
Sheela just smiled—not exactly a friendly smile but a smile. The two girls left the rest room at the same time.
“Hello, Sheela. Hello, Angela,” Mrs. Keiter, the music teacher, said as she passed by.
“Hello,” the girls answered. Angela was glad Sheela had not said or done anything mean. She was happy, too, when Sheela went to the office instead of out to the playground. Again, Angela offered a quiet prayer of gratitude.
A few minutes before school was over for the day, Angela was called to the principal’s office.
As she walked past Sheela’s desk on her way to the office, Sheela smirked, “Good luck.” It made Angela feel cold all over.
Mr. Cooper was waiting for Angela when she arrived. “Angela, I’ve received a report that you scratched ‘Angela loves Ammon’ on one of the walls in the rest room. The student who reported this said Mrs. Keiter saw you leaving there during lunch. Mrs. Keiter confirmed you were there at that time.”
Angela was stunned. How could this be? Hadn’t she fasted and prayed and used all her faith for Heavenly Father to make Sheela be nice? Sheela had been in the rest room at the same time. She must have scratched the wall.
“Mr. Cooper,” Angela said softly, “I did go into the rest room after lunch, but I didn’t scratch anything on the wall.”
“I’m sorry, Angela, but I have your word against another student’s and a teacher’s. You will help the janitor, Mr. Hamblin, during recess for a week. Maybe that will help you respect school property more.”
Caleb knew by the look on Angela’s face that things had not gone well. He walked silently beside her on the way home from the bus stop. Entering the kitchen first, he blurted out, “Angela’s faith didn’t work.”
“Caleb! That’s not nice,” Mom scolded.
“No, Mom, Caleb’s right,” Angela sighed. “I must not have enough faith for Heavenly Father to make Sheela be nice.” She told Mom about her day.
“Angela, we can’t pray away another person’s agency, no matter how much faith we have,” Mom explained. “When we pray for our enemies, it changes how we feel about them and brings us peace. We change for the better, and sometimes our goodness helps our enemies to change. Sadly, some never change. But we should never let our enemies choose how we will act.”
“So what does Angela do about Sheela?” Caleb interrupted. “How does all this help her if Sheela is still mean?”
Angela nodded. “I thought faith could produce miracles.”
“It does. I promise you it does,” Mom assured her. “Do you remember the story of Alma and his people in the land of Helam?” Mom reached for her scriptures.
“A little,” Angela said. “Alma’s people were righteous, but they still were captured by the Lamanites. Things got even worse when the Lamanites put Amulon, one of the wicked priests of King Noah, in charge of Alma’s people.”
“And Amulon was Alma’s enemy,” Caleb added. “He knew Alma had believed the prophet Abinadi and had tried to save him from being burned.”
“That’s right,” Mom said. “Amulon made slaves of Alma and his people. He even put guards over them to kill anyone caught praying.”
“But they still prayed in their hearts,” Caleb added.
“And the Lord answered their prayers,” Mom continued. “He didn’t help them escape right away, but He helped them with their trials. Let’s read what happened in Mosiah 24:15: ‘And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord.’
“So, what do you think you should pray for now?” Mom asked gently.
Angela sat quietly, then answered, “To endure my trials cheerfully.”
The next day, after sanding and painting over the writing in the rest room, Angela was emptying trash cans when Sheela walked by. Loudly she said to the girls with her, “It looks like we have a new janitor at our school.” The group left, giggling.
“Please help me to be cheerful and patient,” Angela prayed in her heart.
Just then Mr. Hamblin walked up. “Angela, you’re a good worker.” Then he smiled a big smile. “You didn’t scratch those words on the wall, did you?”
Angela shook her head.
“That’s what I told Mr. Cooper. And while we were talking, Ammon Young came to report he’d overheard Sheela Kelly bragging about doing it herself and getting you in trouble.” Mr. Hamblin smiled again. “Mr. Cooper wants to see you in his office. He’s a fair man. I think you’ll be happy to talk with him again.”
Patience and cheerfulness, prayers and faith, Angela thought. They really do produce miracles. I don’t think my troubles with Sheela are over, but I’ll keep trying to do what’s right. Maybe I’ll try to talk with her again. And as she hurried toward the principal’s office, she silently prayed, Thank Thee, Heavenly Father, for helping me with my trials.

My wife and I have tried to teach the values of work and service to our children. All seven sons—one was a foster child who came to live with us when he was a teenager—and our daughter worked at my lumber company as they were growing up. And one of the Christmas traditions that we started many years ago is still carried out each year by the entire family, including grandchildren: On the Monday before each Christmas, we take homebaked gifts and visit old friends and the widows in the neighborhood where I grew up.

At one time, Ben, Jr., and Brad, my two oldest boys, belonged to a Japanese Scout troop because our ward didn’t have a Scout troop. One day the Scoutmaster took the boys on a hike in the Zion Narrows in southern Utah. Their progress was slower than anticipated. Concerned that the park officials whom they had checked in with would be worried about them, the Scoutmaster asked my sons and a couple of other boys to hike ahead by themselves and let the park officials know that everyone was OK. The boys took a wrong turn into a dead-end canyon and didn’t know what to do. The other boys were not Latter-day Saints, but they turned to Ben and said, “Maybe you’re the one who ought to pray for us to help us get out of here.” After he offered a prayer, Ben said, “Let’s go,” and they turned and walked out without any problem. How grateful I was that my children had learned to pray, that they had faith in that prayer, and that our Father in Heaven would help them find their way safely out of the canyon.

My message to children is: Follow the counsel of your parents, and know how much they love you. Know the value of having good friends. Choose good friends with the same high standards and values that you have.

Walking to church wasn’t the only regular trek Paulo made in exercising his faith. Twice a year he traveled 530 kilometers (330 mi) to attend the São Paulo Brazil Temple. On one of those temple trips he was introduced to Rita de Cássia de Oliveira, who worked in the temple. Odete Lustoza, wife of President Lustoza, had previously met Rita at the temple and had encouraged Paulo to write to her.
Rita was accustomed to life in a big city, and she enjoyed her friends and the blessings of being a member of a ward with a nearby chapel. But after a long-distance courtship that resulted in her marriage to Paulo in the São Paulo temple in 2003, Rita joined him on the farm.
She has adjusted to farm life and is thankful for the blessing of a temple marriage. “The hardest part was finding a husband,” she said. “The rest I can adapt to.”

I went to a party one night with a group of my closest friends. As we sat laughing, the conversation turned. My friends started to gossip about a young man we all knew who was my friend. The conversation went on for a while with everyone except me agreeing with what was being said. Eventually I had enough. I expressed my feelings that it was wrong for them to belittle this young man.
The room went silent, and no one stood by me. I had never felt so alone in my life than at that moment. Eventually the conversations moved on, but everyone ignored me. I decided to call my mom to come pick me up. Then I announced that I was going home. No one asked questions, and small good-byes were said as I left.
It was hard for me to go against my friends, but I knew that it was the right thing to do. This experience changed my life, and I feel good about my decision to stick up for this young man. I learned that even if you stand alone, you should always do what’s right. Your crowd may not be the crowd you’re meant to be with. It’s better to stand alone and do what’s right than to stand with others doing wrong.

Two twins get in a rocket ship.
Wait, no, that’s not it.
One twin gets in the rocket ship, and the other stays behind. And when the twin in the rocket ship gets back he’s older. No … he’s younger than the one who stayed at home. And this all has something to do with traveling at the speed of light?
I stopped to scratch my head and let out a long sigh. The theory of relativity was one of the first things we had studied in my physical science class, and here I was, just about to take my first-ever university final and still completely in the dark about the speed of light.
Everything else in the class was as clear as a newly polished test tube, but for some reason my brain couldn’t wrap itself around Einstein’s theory. And I had to understand it since it would make up a significant part of my final exam.
I had been praying for help to understand it all semester. I had put all my effort into it and still wasn’t any closer to even a glimpse of comprehension. Why wasn’t the Lord helping me? Didn’t He know how important this class was to me?
On the day of my physical science final, I answered every question until I got to the dreaded relativity essay. “Heavenly Father,” I thought. “I’ve done my best, now please help me to get this right!”
I sat and I sat, and nothing came. Finally I just finished the rest of the test and left downhearted.
As I stepped out the door of the testing center, into my mind came the theory of relativity but, this time, I completely understood all I had been taught. And I knew that this flash of pure knowledge came from Heavenly Father. After months of struggle, it was just there all of a sudden. I wondered why the Lord couldn’t have revealed this knowledge to me a few minutes earlier while I was still taking the test.
As I pondered, the Lord taught me something else I needed to learn. The grade wasn’t the most important thing. It was learning that mattered. And more important than learning the theory of relativity, I learned that all knowledge comes from the Lord. He can help me to understand anything if I do my part, regardless of whether I have an exam or not.
Years later I still have a clear understanding of what I learned about relativity, and the Lord continues to teach me about many other subjects as I diligently seek His help.

My grandfather, Fa’alogo Tovia Fa’alogo, was a convert to the Church. Early in life he learnt about God and Jesus Christ while he was a member of the Congregational Christian Church. He passed away in 1960 aged 84, before I was born. I learnt about Grandfather from my father who took care of him, assisted by his siblings and family, until he passed away.
Grandfather learnt about the restored gospel of Jesus Christ from two missionaries. In his search for the truth, he came to know for himself that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the kingdom of God on earth and that Joseph Smith was the Lord’s revelator, the instrument through which the gospel was restored. This he believed with all his heart. In time Grandfather was ordained to the Melchizedek Priesthood, office of elder.
In 1959, grandfather gifted to the Church, by way of declaration, part of the land belonging to the Faalogo (paramount chief) family title in the village of Paia, Savai’i. The declaration (pulefaamau) was published as required by law in Samoa’s national newspaper, called ‘Savali,’ in September 1959. The declaration was subsequently approved and registered by the Samoa Lands and Titles Court.
Part of the declaration published was “this piece of land has been set aside for religious matters and an area is made available as an access road to it for use by the congregation of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-days Saints, that they may use it every day as needed by that Church for religious matters.” (“ua tuueseina atu e ia lea fasi fanua mo Mataupu tau Lotu ma le avanoa o se ala e ui i ai ia aoga i le aulotu a le Ekalesia a Iesu Keriso o le Au Paia o Aso e Gata Ai ia faapea ona latou faaaogaina mo aso uma lava . . . e mana’omia pea ai e lena Ekalesia lea fasi fanua mo Mataupu tau lotu.”) Since that time, the Church has used that land for religious matters. It now has a ward worshipping there, using the chapel, teaching areas, a cultural hall and a playing court.
I believe Grandfather knew what The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints stood for and that it added great value to what he already knew about God the Eternal Father and His Only Begotten Son, Jesus Christ. His desire, as I learnt later, was not only to please and show his love for God but also for his family, village and community to be blessed, as well as those who may come to live there. He loved God, he loved the Church, he loved his family, and he loved his village and country. He gave up something good for something much, much better. He lived as he believed.
At the time of the declaration there were only three generations of his family in the Church, now there are six; many of them reside in foreign countries with their growing families, who serve the Lord in numerous capacities. They continue the legacy he left behind—to encourage their family to keep the two greatest commandments: love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and to love thy neighbour as thyself (see Matthew 22:37, 39).
Lastly, I learnt that when Grandfather made the declaration, well before a temple was ever dreamed of in Samoa, to my mind he was essentially practicing the law of consecration. That law we have come to know so well in our temple worship and in the scriptures—knowing that the earth and all it contains belongs to God, the Creator of heaven and earth. To return a portion of it for the establishment of His kingdom seems not a sacrifice but an acknowledgment of God’s love and an expression of greater appreciation for the people and the world around us. I know Grandfather saw the hand of God touching him and his family whilst he was still living.
Grandfather reminds me of Father Lehi, when he partook of the fruit and desired for his family to do likewise, to taste of the goodness of it and to hold fast to the iron rod (See 1 Nephi 8). I am eternally grateful for Grandfather’s faith in exercising his agency to choose the right when he heard the restored gospel message and accepted it, and then he did let the consequences follow, as in the words of Choose the Right:
Choose the right when a choice is placed before you.
In the right the Holy Spirit guides;
And its light is forever shining o’er you,
When in the right your heart confides.
Choose the right! Choose the right!
Let wisdom mark the way before.
In its light, choose the right!
And God will bless you evermore.1
Grandfather’s family and village have been abundantly blessed because of his faith and trust in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, and because of the righteous choices he made.
I pray that as we celebrate the birth of our Saviour Jesus Christ during this festive season, that we may honour His name in all that we do, just as our forefathers have done, to bless the rising and future generations, that they may come to know Him as the Saviour and Redeemer of the world, and that we all may confess Him to the world, and that He may confess us to the Father.

Charlee Ann Voorhees didn’t get involved in service to get attention. But when she lost herself in the service of others, she ended up finding herself featured in the newspaper and speaking about service at youth conventions.
When Charlee’s parents divorced, she felt overwhelmed. She was in the middle of a situation she couldn’t do much about and needed something to take her mind off of her problems.
It was during that time she heard a Young Women lesson about service. The teacher told her class that serving others is a good way to get through personal problems.
“I decided I needed to get more involved,” says Charlee, a Laurel in the Sioux Falls (South Dakota) First Ward. “I was involved in a lot of other things, but as far as service, I didn’t have much of that kind of involvement in my life.”
Once Charlee submerged herself in service, she found that many of her own problems were put into perspective. “My parents were divorcing, but I could help people even though I wasn’t exactly having the best time myself,” she says.
When Charlee was looking for service opportunities, she attended a volunteer fair where she signed up for nearly every service group represented. But one organization really caught her eye: Sioux Falls’ Promise, an organization that involves youth in community service and other activities.
Charlee applied for a position on the youth board for Sioux Falls’ Promise. She was accepted, and before long she was elected president of the board.
As president, Charlee says her main goal was to create awareness of the concerns, problems, and issues that teens have in Sioux Falls. She served as an advocate for the youth of her community. One of the ways she did that was to hold a town meeting with the youth and the mayor. In that meeting, the teens raised their concerns about youth drug and alcohol abuse and a city curfew.
“Since that meeting, the mayor has actually come to us before making decisions and asked what we think about certain issues,” she says.
Charlee also organized a youth convention to discuss teens’ concerns. More than 1,000 teens attended the convention, where they discussed making friends, resolving conflicts, controlling anger, and using service to improve communities.
The success of the convention led to an invitation for Charlee and the youth board to attend a national youth convention. While there, Charlee discussed service with Colin Powell, chairman of America’s Promise and now United States Secretary of State.
As Charlee has worked to get the youth of Sioux Falls involved in service, she has seen what a dose of service can do for the giver as well as the receiver. “You get the chance to see that others are struggling, too. It’s a big eye-opener for how fortunate you are in your own life.”

The student council election results are in.
Matt told me the bad news. How are you doing?
I’m really disappointed.
I’m sorry you lost. But I’m also very proud of you.
Really?
Of course. You had some great ideas for your school, and you worked hard to get elected. You can feel good about that.
The next morning …
You’re right, Mom. I did my best. Now I’ll share my ideas with the new council. And next year I’ll start earlier, meet more students …
Will I be calling her “President Mandy” someday?

My wife and I have discovered that Scandinavia is a beautiful land filled with people of great ability and promise. Our family has a special interest in Denmark. It is the ancestral home of my wife’s great-great-grandparents. These ancestors came from Aalborg, Veeborg, Vila, and Presta. One of her great-great-grandfathers was Jens Christian Johansen. He was born in Frederikssund in Jutland in 1832. We have been privileged to read his journal, and we have become more appreciative of the rich spiritual heritage we enjoy as a result of this righteous Danish ancestor.
Jens Johansen was an industrious man. He had grown up in poverty and had prayed that his children would not be required to go begging for food as he had done as a young man. He took a job at an early age. He worked as a stable boy. He learned to farm and to make wooden shoes. His integrity and ambition as a worker enabled him to purchase a farm in Hormesta in 1857. It was at this time that the missionaries came to Grandfather Johansen and his family. He accepted the restored gospel with the same enthusiasm and dedication that had characterized his working endeavors. He worked hard trying to help the Church increase in numbers and influence in his community. Church meetings were often held in his home. At that time there was the desire among many Scandinavians to immigrate to Utah. And Jens Johansen had this same desire. Since he couldn’t go himself, he sent his three daughters in advance. In one year they had earned enough money to help their parents to follow them. He called this a miracle.
Jens discovered that his Danish talents of thrift and industry were assets in his new homeland. It was not long before he bought a small farm and erected a home on it for his family. He located in Elsinore, Utah. Grandfather Johansen’s faith in the Lord enabled him to deal successfully with hardships and challenges. It allowed him to live an enjoyable life. He enjoyed music. He loved to sing and to play the accordion. He liked to speak in Church meetings. He records that his favorite meetings were the ones spoken in Danish. He stated that they were “spoken loud enough so we could all hear and say amen.” He couldn’t understand why those speaking English always mumbled so no one could understand. He took pride in the labor of his hands. His skills were often sought after by his associates. He would willingly provide help to those in need, and he gratefully acknowledged the contributions others made toward his own comfort and happiness.

Last summer, youth in the Val Vista Ward in Mesa, Arizona, participated in what they called the “STEP” program: Students Trying Elijah’s Promise. First the youth became familiar with the Church’s Web site new.familysearch.org, where they each got a sign-in name and password. Then they went to work researching their ancestors to find those who needed temple work.
The ward also held an all-day Especially For Youth program on July 24. The event was designed to focus on family history and temple work and featured workshops, games, food, and research time on computers. “It was one of the most amazing events I have ever been a part of,” said Bishop Charles Doane. “In one day the youth found over 500 family names for ordinance work.”
The young men and women continued searching for names, and by the time they went to the temple in August they had nearly 1,200 names ready.

When I was a child growing up and learning about life, I did not have the security of my father and mother telling me who I was, how I could find lasting happiness, and what would happen to me if I were to die. My parents did not have the gospel of Jesus Christ, so my childhood was very uncertain in many ways and I was often full of fear.
But in all the memories of my childhood, there is at least one of peace and joy. This memory is of Christmas. Christmastime was celebrated in the traditions and customs of my home country of Germany, and it was specifically for the children.
Four Sundays before Christmas Day, preparations for something holy and beautiful could be felt in our home. A little wreath with four candles on it was placed on the family table.
On the first Sunday, the first candle was lit. As a family we sat around the table, singing Christmas songs and preparing little gifts that each of us would give to each member of the family.
On the fourth Sunday, the last candle was lit, and expectations for the coming joyous events grew intense.
A Christmas tree did not appear in our home until 24 December. On that day, we children had to stay outside, go on errands, and play by ourselves. I still remember how time seemed not to pass at all.
We children were taught that the Christmas tree and all of its glory and beauty, along with presents and food and cookies, came from the little Christ child.
This lack of logic did not bother us children. We believed that there was a Christ-child person of a supernatural existence who cared for us in such a way that once a year He would come in person to fulfill all of our hopes and dreams.
In preparation, we cleaned the rooms where we slept. We put on our best clothes. We had our gifts ready to give. When the sun started to set on that special day, we were invited to get ready to enter the living room.
As was the custom, the doors to the living room had been locked because we children were not to go into that room. It became a place of great mystery. Once in a while we heard some rustling of papers, and once in a while the more courageous of us tried to peek in the keyhole—only to learn that the key was in it from the inside and the door was locked.
When Mother finally decided that we were clean, orderly, dressed, our hair groomed, and had our rooms in order, we were asked to listen carefully. Suddenly we heard a little bell ringing, and our hearts beat close to explosion. This was it! This was the moment when the doors were unlocked and we were allowed to go into the living room. And there it was—a Christmas tree standing from the floor to the ceiling! We became aware of its beautiful, fresh-cut smell and that it was glowing with candles. Our father, who happened to be already inside the room when we walked in, was watching it carefully so that nothing caught on fire.
The Christmas tree had many decorations that we as children would see only at Christmastime. In the center of the tree was a wax sculpture of a little Christ child surrounded by glowing angels of gold paper and silk.
Our family gathered around the tree and sang four or five Christmas songs. Then we children were invited to find our own corner of presents, which had been covered by a blanket.
This Christmas Eve tradition developed in us powerful feelings of holiness, joy, love, gratitude, and security. These feelings, radiating from the symbols of the little wax figure of the Christ child, which we saw only at Christmastime, had a great influence on all of us.

In that company was a Mrs. Jackson. She said:
“About nine o’clock I retired. Bedding had become very scarce so I did not disrobe. I slept until, as it appeared to me, about midnight. I was extremely cold. The weather was bitter. I listened to hear if my husband breathed, he lay so still. I could not hear him. I became alarmed. I put my hand on his body, when to my horror I discovered that my worst fears were confirmed. My husband was dead. I called for help to the other inmates of the tent. They could render me no aid; and there was no alternative but to remain alone by the side of the corpse till morning. Oh, how the dreary hours drew their tedious length along. When daylight came, some of the male part of the company prepared the body for burial. And oh, such a burial and funeral service. They did not remove his clothing—he had but little. They wrapped him in a blanket and placed him in a pile with thirteen others who had died, and then covered him up with snow. The ground was frozen so hard that they could not dig a grave. He was left there to sleep in peace until the trump of God shall sound, and the dead in Christ shall awake and come forth in the morning of the first resurrection. …
“A few days after the death of my husband … the male members of the company had become reduced in number by death and those who remained were so weak and emaciated by sickness, that on reaching the camping place at night, there were not sufficient men with strength enough to raise the poles and pitch the tents. The result was that we camped out with nothing but the vault of Heaven for a roof and the stars for companions. The snow lay several inches deep upon the ground. The night was bitterly cold. I sat down on a rock with one child in my lap and one on each side of me. In that condition I remained until morning.”3

I learned about pure love from my mother. She was not a member of the Church.

One day many years ago, I visited my mother, who was struggling with cancer. I knew that she was going to die, but I was concerned that she was suffering. I didn’t say anything, but knowing me well, she said, “I see that you are concerned.”

Then to my surprise, she asked me with a feeble voice, “Can you teach me how to pray? I want to pray for you. I know you start by saying, ‘Dear Heavenly Father,’ but then what should I say?”

As I knelt next to her bed and she prayed for me, I felt a love never felt before. It was simple, true, pure love. Although she didn’t know about the plan of salvation, she had in her heart her personal plan of love, the plan of love of a mother for her son. She was in pain, struggling to even find the strength to pray. I could barely hear her voice, but I surely felt her love.

I remember thinking, “How can someone who is in such great pain pray for someone else? She is the one in need.”

Then the answer came clearly to my mind: pure love. She loved me so much that she forgot about herself. In her most critical hour, she loved me more than herself.