Gospel Story Finder

Again, as a young Navajo boy growing up on a reservation and as the only Mormon in my family, I was tempted many times by friends whose values were not as lofty as my own. Even my own flesh and blood, my own brothers and sisters, tried me.
Two, three, four of my brothers were so determined for me to live their way that one day they attacked me and attempted to bind my arms and legs. When I became helpless, they would pour wine and beer into me. But the plan didn’t work. I resisted. I fought back with all the strength and courage I had. I managed to escape and run away from them. But I still loved them and asked Heavenly Father to forgive them.

In late December a chill mist shrouds the bare vines in the predawn darkness. The vineyard is silent except for one section, which is filled with voices and a bright, crackling bonfire. It is Christmas morning, and elsewhere in this valley, people are still warm in their beds or gathered around Christmas trees watching excited children. But not the small group in the vineyard. They have come to give a gift.
To understand the meaning of the gift, you must know that this vineyard in Madera, California, USA, is part of the Church’s welfare production system. Each year it produces about 400,000 pounds (180,000 kg) of raisins. Half of the harvest goes to the shelves of bishops’ storehouses. The rest is used for humanitarian response around the world. Wards and branches from eight stakes are assigned certain tasks to complete and rows of vines to care for.
One crucial task is pruning the vines. The tangle of the past season’s growth must be cut out, leaving just the few canes that will grow to produce the next harvest. Without this dormant-season pruning, the vineyard becomes overgrown. Too many vines overwhelm the roots’ ability to sustain them. Too little fruit is produced, and the harvest is greatly diminished.
Why do this work on Christmas day? Because many of the ward members are fieldworkers by trade, pruning vineyards and orchards for their livelihood. Their work is intensive at this time of year, so this is the only day they have off in several weeks. It’s Christmas—and they spend it here in the Church’s vineyard. In fact, they have come here 8 of the past 15 Christmases. For these members of the Spanish-speaking Madera Third Ward, it is their gift to El Niño—to the Christ child.
One worker, Miguel Chavez, explains that it’s a way of giving something back for all of the blessings they receive from the Lord: “We are giving something to needy families. Our small contribution becomes a great blessing to other people.” Another ward member says simply, “This is the best work we can do because this is God’s vineyard.”
And so, on this particular Christmas day, once these members of the Madera Third Ward finish pruning, wrapping, and tying their assigned vines, they finish parts of two neighboring wards’ rows. It is a gift fit for a King.

“I’d like to say that I grew up in the Church,” says Bert, “but I didn’t. I’m considered a convert by Church standards, because I wasn’t baptized until I was twelve, although I went to Primary. I came from a part-member family.”
Bert’s father, a tough, determined, highly-respected police officer, refused to give permission for his son’s baptism; then, “when I was twelve, I really got emphatic. He finally consented, and my brother and I were both baptized. I was ordained a deacon shortly after that.” Within a year, however, Bert was enrolled in a military boarding school, complete with its own non-denominational Protestant church. During the next five years, he recalls, the influence of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints “just started fading away.”
Amanda was not a member of the Church when she and Bert met, nor was she a Latter-day Saint when they married a few years later. Bert had become somewhat active during his air force training in California; but, he says, “things were moving slowly for me.” Shortly after their marriage, however, “my life started to change because of her.
“We were married after I was commissioned as an officer in the air force.” (Amanda, by this time, had earned a degree in secondary education from the University of Hawaii.) “For a while we lived in California; then we moved to Kansas after some air force training in Texas. Two weeks after we arrived in Kansas, I think the Lord felt it was time that Amanda found out about the Church. Although we had been attending meetings, we hadn’t gotten really serious about the Church.
Bert was sent to Greenland for 109 days, and since the couple had not yet found an apartment in Kansas, Amanda stayed with Bert’s cousin and his wife. The relatives were active Church members, and they and the stake missionaries began encouraging Amanda to schedule her baptism for the same day as the cousin’s eight-year-old daughter’s.
Amanda was unhappy about the situation. “I didn’t think they should know when I was going to be ready; but they said they knew, and they had set the date.”
“I felt a little bad about that,” says Bert, remembering the letter Amanda sent him at the time. “I was a little embarrassed, because that was my church. But then the next week I got another letter saying, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t wait any longer. I’m being baptized Saturday.’”
“They did know,” smiles Amanda. “I was ready.”
Following Amanda’s conversion, Bert began to progress in the Church as well. He was ordained a priest, then an elder, and the DuPonts were soon sealed in the temple.
Still, Bert had questions. “I’m not ashamed to admit it—I had some doubts about the Church, and one of them concerned the reality of a modern-day prophet.” In time, Bert would receive that testimony in a very personal way—from a prophet of God himself.
Along with continuing spiritual growth came additional Church responsibilities, the adoption of two sons, and rapid professional advancement. As a colonel in the air force, Bert was known and respected for his integrity, willingness to work, and his ability to get the job done. Such a reputation made him a top candidate for assignment in Montevideo, Uruguay, in the early 1970s as an adviser to that country’s military services. He was offered the position, but the decision to accept or refuse it was his. “I looked at a Church directory to see if the Church was there,” he says. “There were two stakes, so I thought, ‘Well, we’ll go.’” Then he and Amanda went to Washington, D.C., where he took an intensive six-month course in Spanish language and culture.
But then came a telephone call for Bert from his superiors. “They said, ‘We need you more in Bogota, Colombia, than we do in Montevideo, so we are changing your assignment.’ I could find no Church listings for Colombia, so I refused, and there was nothing they could say to change my mind.
“Then one day I had another telephone call from an officer. I tried to explain to him that I was a member of the Church and why I didn’t want to go to Colombia. It turned out that he was a member of the Church, the senior president of the seventies in his stake, and he said, ‘Brother DuPont, have you ever thought that maybe the Lord has a job for you to do in Colombia?’ It was the first time we had thought of it like that. We decided that we would go.”
Once in Colombia, the DuPonts found that the Lord did indeed have a job for them—several jobs, in fact. “I really feel,” says Bert, “though I didn’t feel that way at the time, that we were sent there to help with the Church. When the Church moves into a new area, the people who are converted are not the bank presidents or the university professors; they are the humblest and the poorest people. And all we had there were missionaries from the United States, who often weren’t accepted by the people. I was somewhat different because of my rank in the air force; being in the military helped. And I wasn’t white; that helped, too. Missionaries would tell the people something, and they wouldn’t believe it; but if we walked in the door and said the same thing, they would listen.”
Soon after the DuPonts arrived in Bogota, Bert was called to be a counselor in the district presidency; later he served as a branch president in Bogota. Amanda, warmly interested in her Colombian sisters, learned the language and was called to assume leadership responsibilities in the Relief Society and Young Women organizations. Both the DuPonts were loved and honored for their commitment to the gospel and their daily acts of Christian service.
A good part of their service embraced the missionary effort; still developing in Colombia some twelve years ago, the Church needed all the strong testimonies and good examples it could get. One returned missionary who served in Colombia recalls that the DuPonts were “great examples for the Saints. They demonstrated what home teaching and visiting teaching really were; what home evening is all about, and what it means to love and serve each other.”
The DuPonts’ home was a much-loved gathering place for the elders and sisters. Bert remembers, “We’d sometimes have as many as sixty missionaries over for dinner for the big U.S. holidays—Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas.”
From their earliest days in Colombia, the matter of heritage played a significant role in the DuPonts’ remarkable success story. Consider, for example, their participation in the Church’s first youth conference in that country. Invited to provide some Hawaiian entertainment, they drove ten hours over a tortuous mountain road to attend the conference.
Once there, Bert was asked to speak. “As I looked out into that group—the leaders and the youth—I was struck by the impression that it was like I was in Hawaii. They all looked like my relatives; their Indian background matched up with the Hawaiians and the Polynesians. So I decided I would tell them about Hagoth, the Nephite shipbuilder; I started out talking about that, and about how they looked like my uncles and aunts back in Hawaii. Our relationship with them grew from that. I told them, ‘When I say hermanos y hermanas to you, I don’t mean brothers and sisters only in the gospel; I really mean that we have a blood relationship—the blood of Israel is here.’”
The “blood of Israel” image became still more personal when Bert and Amanda invited his parents to visit them in Bogota. It was a new beginning.
“My dad was a good man,” reflects Bert, “but we couldn’t convince him to join the Church—even though whenever he visited us, he would comment about the happiness we had in our family, and how he wished the other children could have it.”
Late one night during his parents’ visit, Bert was awakened. “I was prompted,” he recalls, “to go and challenge my dad—again—to be baptized, even though he had refused many times before. I woke Amanda (I always have to confer with her, because she’s got the Spirit!), told her my feeling, and she said, ‘Well, I guess you’d better go do it.’ So I went into his room … it was like Daniel going into the lions’ den.”
Bert woke his father, bore testimony, issued the challenge. The response? “My dad put his arms around me and hugged me and cried. He had been shot, stabbed, and injured many times during his life as a police officer, and he had never before shed a tear as far as I knew.”
Within weeks, Brother DuPont had fully embraced the gospel. “The missionaries from the U.S. could not teach him in English,” Bert explains, “because they only knew their discussions in Spanish. So I interpreted for them. My parents came to church with us every Sunday even though they couldn’t understand what was going on because everything was spoken in Spanish. But evidently my father could feel something—and I believe it was the spirit of the people. There was standing room only the day he was baptized.”
It wasn’t until 1975, after Bert and Amanda had returned to Hawaii, that Bert’s testimony of the living prophet was solidly confirmed. Bert had been asked to assist with security measures for President Spencer W. Kimball who was making a short visit to Bogota. Bert’s description of the experience is a moving testimony of the prophet’s influence:
“President Kimball shook my hand, and it felt like electricity going up my arm. He looked into my eyes, and that was it; I knew. We were together a good deal of the time, and it was the most wonderful experience.
“We had family home evening at the mission home, and I was the only one without my family. I sat right next to President Kimball, and he put his arm around me. Then we knelt down, and the mission president asked the President to give the family prayer. My whole life changed in those moments; I just knew he was a prophet. It was the full conversion.”
Meanwhile, Amanda recalls with a knowing smile, while Bert was with the President, “things weren’t going too well back home. I was in a car accident; I wasn’t hurt, but the car was damaged.”
“You have to understand,” adds Bert, “that I was a person who had to have everything neat and clean. You didn’t touch my car, because you might leave a fingerprint on it.”
Amanda says their two sons, “Duane and Doug, kept saying, ‘Oh, boy, wait until Dad comes home and sees the car.’ The day Bert arrived home, they wouldn’t even go to the airport with me to meet him, so I went by myself; there hadn’t been time to get the car fixed.”
But something had changed. “Bert came off that airplane, and I think he was walking above the ground. When he saw me, all he could talk about was what a great experience it was to be with the prophet. He went right past the damaged fender on the car and didn’t even see it.
“When we got home, the boys were peeking out from behind the drapes. Bert said, ‘Okay, when my boys are hiding, something’s happened.’ So I had to show him the damaged fender. He looked at it, turned to me, and said, ‘Oh, Mom, I’m really glad you didn’t get hurt.’ Then he gave me a big hug.”
The stories go on and on. The DuPonts have opened their arms and home to a procession of foster children, less-fortunate Colombian friends and fellow Saints, missionaries whose finances and confidence needed help, and anyone else who can use a warm Hawaiian greeting, a generous sampling of Amanda’s expert cooking, or a gentle but persuasive nudge in the general direction of truth and righteousness.
“We love people,” says Amanda, “and the gospel gives us direction in serving and helping them wherever we can.”

My mother and father were married in Canada before the Alberta Temple was built, and so they were not married in the temple. I was born about nine years before the temple was finished and dedicated, and as a child I had a great desire to go to the house of the Lord and be sealed to my parents. I understood very clearly that without the blessing of being sealed in the temple, I would not be with my family in the life after death.
When my parents made an appointment to take me and my brother to the temple immediately after it was dedicated, I was very excited. But the day before we were to go, I became ill and my mother decided that it might be best for our family to wait until I was well again. I can remember how hard I cried as I coaxed her not to put it off. Finally she consented, and we went to the temple.
Although I still remember how dizzy I was, I waited in the children’s room with my brother and many other children. Finally those in charge came and took my brother and me to the sealing room. There we knelt at the altar together, my brother and I clasping hands with my parents. A warm, peaceful feeling came into my heart as one having authority sealed me to my mother and father for time and all eternity. This was one of the most wonderful experiences of my life, for I knew that if I kept all of our Heavenly Father’s commandments, I would be with my family forever.
The morning after this beautiful experience in the temple, I was ill again. The doctor diagnosed my illness as scarlet fever. How worried we were about all the children I had been with in the temple the night before, but not one of them caught the disease from me. I am sure that because of the blessings of our Heavenly Father, this experience, which I wanted so much, was not postponed, and no one else suffered because of my illness.

Dave hurried up the last stretch of the grassy hill. Another gust of cold December wind brushed past him, but he didn’t mind. The oak tree at the top of the steep hill just had to have some mistletoe in its branches. He had a big Christmas surprise to pull off! And he needed to collect lots of mistletoe to do it.
But his pillowcase wasn’t even half full yet, and he’d been out hiking the hills with Dad all morning.
“Do you see any?” Dad asked from behind him on the trail.
Dave ran to the oak tree and peered up into its branches. There were no leaves this time of year, which made it easy to see that the branches were completely bare. There was no mistletoe growing in this tree.
“No mistletoe,” Dave said. He slumped down against the tree and sighed. This was taking forever! He thought mistletoe would be easier to find.
“Too bad,” Dad said. But then he smiled. “At least we’re up here in this clean air, enjoying some great exercise.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Dave said. Then he looked around. Green hills covered with nothing but grass and trees spread out in all directions. “Whoa! This view is awesome. Look! There’s the lake! I can’t believe we can see it this far away.”
Dad faced the direction of the lake. “You’re right! What a beautiful day to be outside.”
Dad eyed Dave’s pillowcase. “How are you holding up? Should we call it a day, or do you want to keep searching? You already have more mistletoe than I’ve ever seen in one place before.”
There was no question in Dave’s mind. He had something special planned for Mom and Dad. He needed to fill his pillowcase to the very top. “I want to keep going.”
Dad laughed and stretched his arms over his head. “This secret project of yours must be pretty special. All right. I love a good hike. Where do you want to try next?”
Dave spun in a slow circle. “How about that group of trees?” he said, pointing to the next big hill over. It would probably take them another hour to reach those trees, but there were a whole bunch of them together. He never would have noticed if they hadn’t climbed this huge hill.
“Sounds great to me,” Dad said. “If we get a move on, I’ll bet we can get there in time to eat lunch.”
They talked and laughed as they climbed down one hill and up the next. Dave loved going on adventures like this with Dad. Even the hike up the next hill didn’t seem so hard.
“You know, I think those trees have some extra shadows in their branches,” Dad said as they got closer. “This might be your lucky hill.”
Dave ran the last stretch again. Before he even reached the trees, he knew they’d hit the jackpot. “Yes!” he yelled. “We did it!” The limbs were full of mistletoe. He climbed a tree and started clipping mistletoe off the branches. Moving on to the next tree he continued filling his pillowcase while Dad got their lunches out.
“Congratulations,” Dad said as he handed Dave a peanut butter sandwich. “I have no clue what you have planned for all that stuff, but you sure have a lot of it!”
Two weeks later, Dave grinned as he wrapped the special Christmas presents he’d picked out for Mom and Dad—presents he’d paid for by selling mistletoe to Christmas shoppers at the mall. He’d planned this for months.
“Mission accomplished,” Dave said. Not only had he and Dad enjoyed a super fun adventure, now Dave couldn’t wait to see Mom and Dad’s faces Christmas morning! He loved making them smile.

When I was three, my Uncle Jim was serving a mission. Uncle Jim was impressive to me. He was two meters tall and a good man. I wanted to be just like him.
I decided I would serve a mission so I could be like Uncle Jim. There was never a question in my mind about serving a mission after that. And that single decision had a great impact on my life. Once I knew the direction I was headed in, I took advantage of opportunities that came along to help me prepare myself. With a future mission in mind, I had a greater desire to learn the gospel throughout my Primary years and my youth, and I enjoyed many experiences that helped me prepare.
My grandfathers served missions at a time in Church history when not all young men were urged to do so. That has always impressed me and made me proud of my heritage. My whole family was interested in missionary work. When I was very young, my parents helped instill in me a desire to serve a mission, and other people helped me toward that goal as I grew up.
However, as a young teenager, I began to question whether I would be allowed to serve a mission. World War II had kept my father from serving as a missionary, which he had badly wanted to do. In my case, the Vietnam War was raging; only two young men from each ward in the United States were given exemptions from military duty to serve missions. The rest had to hope for high draft lottery numbers in order to serve missions. I worried and wondered if I would actually be able to fulfill my childhood dream.
A few years before I was old enough to serve a mission, I attended a stake conference in which Elder Thomas S. Monson was the visiting General Authority. After one session, my mother and I went to meet him. I shook his hand, and we talked. I don’t remember any of the conversation except for one sentence. He looked right into my eyes and said, “You will be going on a mission.” I never worried after that; all my doubts were removed.
Throughout my teenage years, I prepared for my mission. When a loving priests quorum adviser, David Poulsen, offered to teach any of the priests the missionary discussions, a few of us took him up on his offer. We faithfully attended 7:00 A.M. classes each Sunday.
We studied the missionary discussions, and I had most of them memorized before I ever entered the mission home. We even went out a few times and taught ward members who pretended to be investigators. Most of them were a lot tougher than any real investigators with whom I worked! In 1971 I was thrilled to accept a call to serve in the Argentina North Mission.

My patriarchal blessing, received at age 13 from a beloved grandfather, includes this statement: “[Your Heavenly Father] sent you forth in this last and glorious dispensation that you might be born under the new and everlasting covenant by goodly, righteous parents.” With deepest appreciation I acknowledge that this has been the great foundational blessing of my life. I pay tribute to my parents and with love acknowledge my debt to them and to their parents and generations beyond. Not long after my call to the Seventy, I had occasion to be standing at the grave of one of those ancestors who had died years before I was born. As I contemplated the sacrifices entailed upon him and his family by their acceptance of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, a sense of gratitude flooded my heart and a resolve welled up in me to honor his sacrifice and that of those who came after by being faithful to God and the gospel covenants, as they were.

In an early stake conference assignment, Elder Paramore and I were blessed to visit the home of a dear brother who, in a tragic industrial accident on August 26, 1958, fell from a cooling tower into a hole thirty-five feet below, where he landed on his head and became paralyzed from the shoulders down. In the intervening thirty-one years he has survived as one of the longest-living quadriplegics in medical history. He was unable to attend the conference meetings, but a brief, thoughtfully prepared video of his life and testimony was presented in the Saturday evening session of conference. He lies not in a bed but suspended on a circular metal rack, where he has received devoted nursing care twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, since this accident more than thirty-one years ago.
This brother, whose home we visited following the conference, praised his nurses, his priesthood leaders, his home teachers, and many others who during those long years stood by his side and ministered to his spiritual and temporal needs. A wise stake president had called him to be the regular correspondent to the missionaries and the servicemen from his stake. I have been inspired many times as I have read his letters sent to bolster the faith of choice young missionaries across the world.
May I quote two lines from one of these missionary letters: “Christ is the only way to heaven. All other paths are detours to doom. Commitment to Christ should go hand in hand with commitment to His Church.”

In a Friend magazine I read a story about a girl who made a visitor feel welcome. That Sunday we had a visitor in our ward, and I made a goal to always be kind to visitors or new members. I just got back from a vacation where I went to a different church building every week, and I remembered how I felt sitting by myself when no one would talk to me. Now I always try to make visitors feel welcome. I’m grateful for the chance I have to do this, and I hope it will help me grow closer to Heavenly Father.

When times were tough, I learned to take time to feel joy in the little moments—the gifts—that are given to us. When my son cannot help but give me a kiss, I am grateful. When I watched my son ride the bus without anyone to sit with, I was blessed to have this scripture come into my mind: “I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up” (D&C 84:88). I knew that Brad was not alone and never will be.

The youth of the Westminster Third Ward (Huntington Beach California North Stake) know the importance of education. Using half the funds they had raised for their youth conference, they donated to the Perpetual Education Fund. Their check was presented to Elder John K. Carmack, emeritus member of the First Quorum of the Seventy, who is the managing director of the PEF.
The Westminster youth responded, along with thousands of other Church members, to President Hinckley’s call to help other Church members become self-reliant and successful (see Ensign, May 2001, 51–53).

Meet Amy Richardson and Amy Richardson.
That’s right, these girls are the same age and have the same name. They were introduced when they were both just a few hours old and fighting to stay alive in the University of Utah’s Newborn Intensive Care Center. (Both were born prematurely and suffered complications because of it.) The “Amys” got well and went their separate ways, one Amy living in Woods Cross, Utah, and the other in Murray, Utah.
But they doubled up again for a brief moment last year. It seems they share more than a name. They also share a vision for sharing the gospel and were reunited at the MTC, where they met by accident the night before Amy from Murray left to serve her mission in Latvia. Amy from Woods Cross left a few days later to serve in Dallas, Texas.

It’s a little different growing up in the Middle East. In Saudi Arabia there’s not a big Young Women program, because the foreign families who make up the branch often send their high-school-age girls off to boarding schools in Europe or the U.S.
But thanks to a special project, the girls will never forget that they are to “stand for truth and righteousness.” Before each girl leaves, she receives a quilt. Each square has been made by one of her classmates and has something to do with the Young Women values. Mothers and daughters worked together for hours to piece and sew the quilts together.
“Our prayers and encouragement have gone off with these quilts and girls,” says Debby Gibson, a YW adviser. They’ve got the girls covered.

“Just right,” Andi thought as she quickly looked in the mirror. She was wearing her favorite red dress. She always wanted to look her best on Sundays. She ran down to breakfast.
Andi was just finishing her last piece of toast when the Reeders’ car horn honked from the driveway. “Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!” Andi said, kissing them as she ran out the door.
Even though Mom and Dad were not members of the Church, they encouraged Andi to go to church each week. The Reeder family had given her a ride almost every Sunday since she had been baptized and confirmed. Andi liked how they always made her feel so welcome and loved.
After sacrament meeting it was time for Primary. Andi loved being in Brother and Sister Long’s Valiant class. They were kind, and their lessons were always the best.
“Today we’re going to talk about temples,” Sister Long said. “What are some things we know about temples?”
Andi knew one answer: “We can do temple baptisms.” She was excited about that because every year the young women in her ward made a trip to the temple to do baptisms. Soon Andi could go too!
“Great, Andi. What else do we know?”
“You can be married in the temple,” said Andi’s friend Allison.
“Very good,” said Sister Long. “Anything else?”
“Families can be together forever when they’re sealed in the temple,” Allison added.
“But not my family,” thought Andi. “Mom and Dad haven’t been sealed in the temple!” Suddenly her face felt hot, and her eyes began to sting with tears.
“Are you OK, Andi?” asked Sister Long.
“Yes,” Andi sniffed, trying to hold back the tears. But she could feel her heart pounding all through the rest of the lesson.
When class was over, Sister Long sat by Andi and put an arm around her. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
“I won’t be with my mom and dad forever,” Andi said. “They haven’t been married in the temple. Who will I belong to after I die? Does Heavenly Father still love me even if my parents aren’t members?”
Sister Long looked directly into Andi’s eyes. “No matter who you are and no matter if your family has been to the temple or not, you are still part of Heavenly Father’s family. You can stay close to Him and be an example to others. He will always love, guide, and protect you, no matter what. He wants to bless you and your family. You are a child of God, Andi.”
Just then Andi’s heart seemed to skip a beat, and the pounding stopped. Now a warm feeling filled her heart instead. She knew what her teacher had said was true.

“I was twenty-eight when I joined the Church, and I wanted to have my father’s permission. I went to him and asked for his blessing, and he said, ‘Let me sleep on it.’ The next morning, he said, ‘I have two questions for you. Number one: Have you really investigated this church?’
“‘Yes sir.’ I answered.
“‘Question number two: Are you really convinced that it’s true?’
“I said, ‘Yes.’
“‘Then you have to do it,’ he replied. ‘If you are convinced that something is right, you must do it.’
“His integrity was a strong influence in my life. I personally believe that everything has its roots in honesty.

Polly and Ruth were blessed by their contributions. Their mutual generosity created a strong bond that lasted their whole lives. When Polly was 77 years old, she was still living in Boston, but she wanted to gather with the Saints in Utah Territory. So Ruth traveled to Boston and accompanied Polly to the Salt Lake Valley in 1857. “Aunt Polly” was beloved among the Saints in Utah until her death in 1866. When Ruth died in 1884, she was buried alongside Polly.7

In March of 2003, one of my good friends, Bret, invited me to help with his Eagle Scout project. After school the next day we drove in his truck with another friend of ours, Camden, to where the project would be. Inspired by the Spirit, Bret directed Camden to a Book of Mormon situated in a holder in the passenger-side door. He told him to open to a verse he had recently read in the Book of Alma. My interest was sparked, and for the first time, I saw the book I wanted so very badly. However, I was too scared to say anything right then. Upon returning that evening, I worked up the confidence to ask Bret for the book. He happily gave it to me and told me to read it. That night I read nine chapters. From the moment I picked up the book, I fell in love with its message.

Shauna Bart of Logan, Utah, loves to dance. She is so good that she received a “Special Distinguished Dancer” award in a Miss Utah Drill Team competition. But the thing that makes Shauna different is the fact that she is deaf.
Shauna loves to listen to music, although she only hears and feels the beat. She started taking dancing lessons as a child and enjoys dancing with a group so she doesn’t get ahead or behind the music.
During the last couple of years she has been working on developing her sign language skills since she already is an accomplished lip reader. She finds signing a tremendous help in communicating with her deaf friends, and it also provides her with a way to fully understand meetings and programs at church and at school. After the first sacrament meeting she attended with an interpreter, she said, “I didn’t realize sacrament meeting was so neat.”
Shauna has a strong testimony and has been an active member of the Logan 21st Ward, Logan Utah Cache Stake. She has taken part in meetings and programs, given talks, been in road shows, and participated at girls’ camp and at youth conferences.
Shauna’s goal is to attend college and major in special education. She hopes to work with deaf children someday.

I grew up on a small farm in Idaho, and I remember raising rabbits. They were soft and friendly and wonderful to snuggle with. But sometimes they would gnaw a hole in their little compartments and escape. This was very dangerous because dogs or cats could hurt them.
When I was about seven years old, a rabbit I especially liked got out. I looked all over our little farm, but I could not find it anywhere. I was worried. I remember walking back behind an old barn and praying that I could find the rabbit.
Immediately after the prayer, an image came into my mind of a spot beneath some boards. I had a feeling that I would find my rabbit there. And sure enough, I went to that spot and found my rabbit.
This experience taught me that the Lord responds to the small and simple prayers of all of us. In D&C 8:2 He says, “I will tell you in your mind and in your heart.”

I always told myself that I would never drink or smoke because that was what I was taught. Then I started doing things with people that did drink and smoke. The more I was around them, the more curious I became. One night I drank; then a couple of days later I tried smoking. Smoking made me sick, so I know for a fact that I will never do that again. But it took me almost a year to realize that drinking is wrong and that I don’t want to drink any more. Most people do want to find these things out for themselves rather than take other’s advice, but please remember this. It’s easier to say no if you have never tried it even once.
Name Withheld