Gospel Story Finder

I’d like to tell you another story about my growing up in Tooele. Bevan Anderson at the time was bishop of the Tooele Fifth Ward. Brother Anderson is a stalwart in the town, a faithful soul. When my father was stake president, he called Brother Anderson as a young bishop. Shortly after he was called, my father had the overwhelming feeling that he should release him. He couldn’t understand this because you don’t call bishops and then suddenly release them. But he had this terrible feeling that Bishop Anderson should be released, even though he was worthy, strong, and faithful, and as good a bishop as you’ll find anyplace. But still there came the feeling that he should be released. My father fought this feeling; he didn’t want to release him. As time went on, finally, Bevan Anderson came to him and said, “For some reason, I feel I should be released.” And he was then released as bishop.

Called to take his place was O. T. Barrus. You’ve got to understand a little about Bishop Barrus’s background. Going way back, he had a heritage of faithfulness in the Church. But, in recent years Brother Barrus had not been as active in the Church as he should have been. He was a good man, but the world had gotten in the way a little bit, and he wasn’t active. The Barruses had a son by the name of Dean Barrus. Dean was one of those persons who was all-everything. In everything he did, he was outstanding. He wasn’t cocky or proud. He was a humble, nice person that everybody loved. He played basketball well, he played football well, he was governor at Boys’ State. In everything he touched, he was a leader. He was one of those special souls the Lord sends from heaven every once in a while.

About this same time World War II broke out, and young Dean Barrus found himself on Navy duty. As fate would have it, the ship he was on was sunk by a submarine and his life was taken. My father tells of a very sacred and personal experience after the release of Bishop Anderson. He said, “I was given to know that in the heavens young Dean Barrus, because his life was taken so early, was given the opportunity to have fulfilled a desire he had for his family.” It was Dean Barrus’s desire that his father might be called as bishop, that through this action, he might be drawn into Church activity and through this be put in a position where he could use his talents to serve other people in the kingdom. So it was, without anybody’s being able to explain it, Bevan Anderson was released with a good feeling and the realization that is what the Lord wanted, and O. T. Barrus was called as bishop and later as stake president—a strong and faithful member of the Church and a person who did much good before the Lord called him home.

This sequence of events taught me some very significant lessons about a person’s call and about a person’s release. It also taught me something as a priesthood leader because there have been occasions in my own leadership duties when I felt that someone probably should be released. You see, a release is as providential as a call so it’s no punishment. We serve because we’re called, and we’re released because we’re called.

Many years ago, a friend of mine told of an experience he had one evening as he was flying home from New York City to Salt Lake. He had been in New York seeking to find funding for a company he was trying to start.
About a half hour after takeoff, sitting in an aisle seat, my friend noticed President Boyd K. Packer walking down the aisle from the front of the plane where he had been seated. My friend said he later learned that President Packer often walked through the plane after the seat belt sign had been turned off, and if there were members of the Church on the plane he usually found them.
They made eye contact and then for the next ninety minutes, my friend was tutored by this Especial Witness of the Lord, Jesus Christ. Among the things Elder Packer told my friend were these two ideas:1. Never let any taint come upon your name, your company, or your money.2. Memorize Section 59 and use it as your guide as your make critical decisions in your career.
This counsel, given more than thirty years ago, was very influential to my friend, who is actually Elder Monte J. Brough, who served for nearly twenty years as a member of the Quorum of the Seventy. This experience happened many years before he was general authority, when he was like you: young, ambitious, and trying to get started in the world.

Latter-day Saints know that revelation and prophecy have foretold the spread of the gospel throughout the world in the latter days. Few realize, though, how clearly this has been manifest in Korea. Not a single Korean national was a member of the Church until 1951, but today, little more than a generation later, South Korea has fourteen stakes and a temple.
Much of this growth must be attributed to the work and influence of modern-day pioneer Kim Ho Jik.
Born 16 April 1905 in the province of Pyeongan Buk-Do (now part of North Korea), Kim Ho Jik moved south as a teenager to attend school in Suwon, a farm town south of Seoul. He graduated from Suwon Advanced Agricultural and Forestry School in 1924, then earned a bachelor’s degree in biology from Tohoku University in Japan, graduating in 1930. His comparatively advanced education allowed him to rise quickly to positions of influence. After his return to Korea, he became president of Sukmyeong Women’s University. Then, in 1946, he was appointed director of the Suwon Agricultural Experimentation Station.
Kim Yeon Jun, a former colleague and now president of Hanyang University in Seoul, remembers that “the thing he [Kim Ho Jik] seemed most concerned about was finding ways to improve the quality of life for Koreans.” Kim ho Jik focused his research on ways to improve nutrition in the Korean diet.
But he longed to learn more about the latest theories and discoveries in agriculture. American scientists who worked with him at the experimentation station encouraged this desire, pointing out that Korea desperately needed well-educated leaders in science and education. Syngman Rhee, president of South Korea, wanted to send him to America to learn more efficient ways of feeding their country’s malnourished population. So Kim Ho Jik made plans to enroll at Cornell University in New York, which had one of the world’s top graduate study programs in nutrition.
A yearning for education was not the only passion that filled his heart as he journeyed to the United States in 1949. Since his youth he had been interested in religion and had investigated several churches. None had satisfied his spiritual hunger. As a boy, he had looked into different religious movements. He also studied in a Buddhist monastery. In 1925, he joined a Protestant church and became an elder in that organization.
Han In Sang, an early Latter-day Saint convert in Korea and now director of the regional Presiding bishopric Office in Seoul, recalls: “Dr. Kim had great faith in orthodox Christian concepts, such as Jesus Christ as the Savior, but he had some dissatisfaction with other aspects of the Protestant churches—the theological confusion and the false doctrines, like predestination.” The sudden death of his third son in 1935 had deepened Kim Ho Jik’s longing for spiritual satisfaction.
Long before he came to America, he believed in the Spirit of God and sought its guidance. His faith served him well just before he left his homeland, when he felt compelled to sell his beautiful home, his cars, and his other possessions. He gave the cash raised from these sales to his wife and children to live on. To critics of this apparently purposeless act, Kim Ho Jik replied only that the Spirit had instructed him to do so.
A few months after he arrived in America, the reason became clear. War broke out with the North Korean invasion of June 1950. Bombs destroyed his former home, and the South Korean government confiscated all automobiles for use by the military. But Kim Ho Jik’s family remained financially secure in his absence.
Kim Ho Jik hoped the Spirit would help him find the “true church” in America. While he completed a doctoral degree at Cornell, he attended meetings of various churches in and around Ithaca, New York. But the answer he was seeking lay at his very doorstep.
The Korean educator shared an office with Oliver Wayman, a doctoral candidate in physiology. Like his office companion, Oliver Wayman was older than most of the other graduate students. He also happened to be a Latter-day Saint.
The two men became good friends. Their wide-ranging discussions, however, did not include religion—until one day shortly before Brother Wayman was to leave Cornell, when his Korean friend asked if he had any literature about his church.
“I have never seen you smoke or drink,” Kim Ho Jik told Brother Wayman. “I have never heard you use vulgar language or profane the name of God. You work harder and longer hours than any of the others, but I have never seen you here on Sunday. You are different in so many ways. I wonder if you would tell me why you live as you do?”
Brother Wayman gave him a copy of The Articles of Faith by Elder James E. Talmage. Kim Ho Jik read the book within a week. “He told me it was the best book on the gospel he had ever read and that he believed it thoroughly,” Brother Wayman recalls. Given a copy of the Book of Mormon, the Korean read it quickly and reported to his American friend that he believed it to be the word of God. It was, he said, more complete and easier to understand than the Bible.
Though Kim Ho Jik responded favorably to Latter-day Saint doctrine, he still believed his Protestant church could reform itself from within by incorporating some of the teachings of the Church. He began to attend the local branch, but also continued to attend his Protestant meetings.
On Brother Wayman’s last day at Cornell, he was saying good-bye to friends when Kim Ho Jik approached him. Brother Wayman felt impelled to ask the Korean why he had decided to leave his homeland and family to study in the United States. The Korean scholar responded that he needed the new knowledge in nutrition available at Cornell for the benefit of his people.
Then, Brother Wayman recalls:
“I bore my testimony … and told him that it was my opinion that the Lord had moved upon him to come to America … in order that he might receive the gospel and take it back to his people in preparation for a great missionary work to be done there. … I informed him … that if he refused to do the work the Lord had for him … another would be raised up in his place.”
Brother Wayman never saw Kim ho Jik again, but he left New York “sure that the Spirit which touched me when I bore my testimony to him touched him at the same time. I could see a change in his expression.”
Kim Ho Jik’s outlook had indeed changed. He continued to study the gospel avidly, but now with an eye toward baptism. Don C. and General Wood, Seneca District missionaries who taught him, recall, “As soon as we would begin any type of review with Brother Kim, he would hold up his hands and say emphatically, ‘No, no, I have already accepted that. Let us go on.’”
His was particularly receptive to a discussion of the Word of Wisdom. As Elder Wood finished reading the eighty-ninth section of the Doctrine and Covenants, tears flowed down Brother Kim’s cheeks.
“Oh,” he sobbed, “if only I had known all of this when I came here. My government wanted me to find ways to feed our people properly, and without sufficient grazing lands for cattle, we did not know how to do this. My whole time studying in America has been to find ways to feed our people through the grains the Lord has always intended for us to use.” Brother Kim accepted the Lord’s health code wholeheartedly.

I ran downstairs in my nightgown and robe. “Hey, everybody, I’m eight years old!” I whooped.
“Sure enough. Happy birthday, little chickie,” mother said, giving me a whirl and a kiss.
“It seemed like I’d never turn eight!” I declared.
The main thing about being seven was getting ready to be eight. Someone was always saying that he could tell by my new front teeth coming in that I was seven, and wasn’t that exciting, because on my next birthday I’d be old enough to be baptized.
And now it was my next birthday! I asked, “Can I ask Cindy to come see me being baptized? Can I, Mom?” Cindy isn’t a Mormon, but she likes to come to Primary with me.
“Of course you may. Invite her parents too,” my mother answered.
I ate breakfast in a hurry, then ran to Cindy’s house. She saw me coming and held the screen door open.
“Guess what!” I panted. “I’m getting baptized tonight, and I want you and your mother and father to come.”
Not only did Cindy and her folks come to my baptism, but they came to church the next day to see me confirmed!
The day after that Cindy came to our house to play dolls with me and my sisters, Katie and Shauna. Suddenly Cindy asked, “Janna Lynn, what is the Holy Ghost?”
Her question surprised me so much that I couldn’t think what to say. Katie is two years older than I am, and I looked at her for help, but she didn’t look up. She just went on brushing her doll’s hair.
I guess Cindy figured I didn’t understand her question, because she tried again. “In church yesterday your father put his hands on your head and said, ‘Receive the Holy Ghost.’ What is the Holy Ghost?”
I got real busy tying a bonnet on my doll. It gave me a minute to think. To me the Holy Ghost simply was, and He didn’t need explaining. But I knew Cindy would insist on an answer. Finally I said, “Well, the gift of the Holy Ghost is really good.”
“What does the Holy Ghost do?” Cindy asked.
“He’s a spirit person, and we can’t see Him. But He helps people to know the right thing to do.”
“Oh,” she said.
I was glad she didn’t ask any more questions.
After she went home, I sat on the front porch to think. I thought about being baptized. I thought about the blue tile font and about Dad’s hand holding mine as I went down the steps. I remembered how nice we both looked dressed in white. And I remembered feeling the swish of the water as Dad put me under. I thought about Sunday too. I’d worn the same ruffly white dress that Katie had worn two years ago when she was confirmed. Only she’d worn a wide red-ribbon sash and red ribbons in her dark hair. I’d worn a wide blue-ribbon sash, and I had blue ribbons in my hair. I thought about my uncles and our home teachers who stood with Dad when he confirmed me. Afterward they smiled at me and shook my hand.
As I thought about Cindy’s question, I remembered that Dad had once said that the feeling of warning we get when we’re tempted is from the Holy Ghost as He tries to keep us from doing wrong. I should have had a lot more of that feeling the day I thought I had to have a piece of licorice. I’d helped myself to a dime from Mom’s purse without asking, and I’d hardly felt guilty at all when I handed it to the clerk at the store.
The very next day Mom said, “Little chickie, if you’ll run and post Dad’s letter, I’ll put a peach pie into the oven for lunch.” Katie and Shauna had already gone to Aunt Shirley’s on an errand, so I was the only little chick left.
Then Mom looked in her purse and said, “Oh, oh. I was certain I had just the right change for a stamp, but there’s only a dime left.”
She took everything out of her purse and shook it. “Hmmmm,” she said, “it looks like I’ll have to write a check at the bank for some cash before I can mail this letter for your father. We’ll have to forget about the pie, because while I’m out I might as well run my other errands.”
“Oh, Mom, you’ve already made me hungry for pie. Can’t the letter wait until tomorrow?”
“No. Daddy said we must get it in the mail this morning.”
“What’re we having for lunch?” I asked.
“Tuna sandwiches. Please stay close to the telephone. Sister Heaton is going to call me. Tell her I’ll call her as soon as I get back.”
I felt awful as I watched her drive away.
That was last year. As I thought about it now that I was baptized, I knew it was important for me to tell Mom about it. I’d give her one of my birthday dimes, too, to help make things right.
I was still sitting on the porch when Scott Jenkins came clanking down the sidewalk past our front gate. He had tin cans clamped onto his shoes. “Hi, Janna Lynn,” he called. “Guess how I got so tall.”
“I already know, because I heard you coming,” I said.
“Want to come over to my house? I have two more cans that you can walk on,” he offered.
“I can’t. I’m barefoot,” I answered. “And besides, I’m trying to figure out something important.”
“Well, when you get through, put your shoes on and come on over,” he said, clanking down the sidewalk.
As I sat there on the porch, I continued thinking about Cindy’s question. In one of our Primary lessons we learned that the Holy Ghost is the Spirit of truth. Our teacher said that He would help us not to lie. I guessed I needed help with that too. I remembered the day Mom had come into the kitchen right after I had accidentally knocked the sugar bowl to the floor. Before she could even speak, I said, “Shauna made me do it.”
“Janna, look out the window,” she told me. “What do you see?”
I saw Shauna swinging on a rope hanging from the tree. I said, “That’s how she made me do it. I was thinking about hurrying out to swing with her, and it made me bump into the table.”
“Janna.” Mom tilted my face toward hers. “None of us breaks dishes on purpose. We all have accidents. It isn’t the sugar bowl that counts. It’s you. More important to me than all the dishes in the cupboard—even the crystal glasses—is a little girl who tells the truth.”
I looked down at the floor. I knew I should’ve said I was sorry, but I didn’t. Instead, I asked, “Don’t dishes sometimes get too close to the edge and fall off by themselves?”
“Oh, Janna Lynn,” Mom said, and I wished she’d spanked me instead of looking at me the way she did. It would have made me feel a lot better.
I was still sitting on the porch thinking when Katie and Shauna came running around the house. “Come and play catch with us,” they called.
We threw the ball back and forth to each other, and then Katie threw one that was too high for me. Running backward to catch it, I slipped and fell on my backside in a clump of Mom’s blue irises. Mom came out of the shed just then with a pair of clippers to cut a bouquet. I looked at the smashed flowers and was just starting to speak, when something inside of me seemed to say, “No, Janna Lynn, you’re not going to say Katie made you do it.”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said. “I ran backward and fell.”
“Yes, I know. I saw you,” she replied.
“And you’re not mad at me?”
“Of course not.”
The way she laughed, I almost felt good about sitting on her flowers.
“Just look at all those irises that you didn’t sit on,” she said. “A daughter who tells the truth is more important than a whole yard full of flowers!”
Goodness! That must have been the Holy Ghost prompting me to the the truth, I thought. And He’s helping me to learn what a great feeling you have when you know you’ve done the right thing. I could hardly wait to tell Cindy.

In my hand I hold a letter received two days ago from a faithful, brokenhearted father whose son, about the same age as the others, took his own life, notwithstanding the efforts of loving parents and a fine, wholesome family. I wish there were time to read a description of how hard these marvelous parents have tried. This is a missionary family, a committed family, a stay-together family; yet this boy, convinced of his own worthlessness, that he was a failure and that the mistakes he had made were disqualifying, took his own life. His father sent a copy of the note he left, and asked me to make such use of his letter and this letter as judgment and my feelings suggested.
I read you just a sentence from the letter left by the boy who ended his own life: “I have no hope, only dreams that have died. I was never able to obtain satisfactory interpersonal relationships. I feared the future and a lot of other things. I felt inferior. I have almost no will to achieve, perseverance, or sense of worth, so goodbye. I should have listened to you but I didn’t. I started using acid last summer. It’s purgatory.” What a tragic story!

Some years ago, I had some responsibility for the open house and dedication of the San Diego California Temple. One Saturday afternoon, one of our committees for the open house was holding a meeting in a stake center adjacent to a large sectarian chapel. The parking lots for these two buildings are contiguous, resulting in an immense expanse of asphalt between them. I thought it was quite remarkable that our committee meeting was so well attended at a time when most people are outside playing—especially in San Diego! Then, I walked into the foyer of our building. Through the glass doors I had a panoramic view of that large parking area and the other church’s meetinghouse. To my surprise the parking lot was filling with cars as people arrived for a meeting at that other building. They were coming as families mostly—fathers, mothers, and children—carrying their scriptures. They were more casually dressed than are we customarily in going to church. But they were flocking to a meeting in that other church much as our people flock to meetings in our buildings. As I watched, the thought forcefully impressed itself upon my mind that this is just the way it was in 1820 when a 14-year-old and his family flocked to religious assemblies—looking for something. The impression continued that for these people—as for those in Joseph’s day, as for us—there really is more to life than “news, weather, and sports”!

These people in that San Diego parking lot were also searching for something. But what? Many have so searched in vain.

Ryan started learning about music when he was two years old. His parents put a set of stereo headphones on him and, instead of pulling them off, he was fascinated. He started piano lessons at seven years old, but like most people, he didn’t like to practice. As he learned to play, he and his mother discovered his talent. “I never did like the endings of pieces of music in books. I would just start making up new endings.” Several years later they discovered that Ryan had perfect pitch. Then he started writing music and performing on a variety of keyboard instruments. He has won numerous awards for his musical talent—composing, performing, and singing. He was voted the most talented student in his ninth-grade class.

“Try to hurry,” Mother told Andy, who was just leaving for school.
“I’ll try,” Andy promised, waving good-bye. It was only two blocks to school. Andy was never late, but he always arrived just as the tardy bell rang. If Andy hurried, he wouldn’t have any fun at all.
As soon as Andy started for school, he saw something high up in the maple tree on the corner. It looked like an orange parrot on a branch, hopping up and down whenever the wind blew.
“Wake up, slowpoke, or you’ll be late,” Karen called as she passed him. She was skipping and swinging her lunch pail with every step.
As Andy came closer to the maple tree he could see that the patch of orange was just a piece of torn kite caught in the branches.
When he started walking again, he looked up and noticed that one big cloud seemed to be racing another across the sky. They looked like two sailboats with their white sails puffed out in the wind.
“C’mon, turtle, or you’ll never make it on time,” Billy called, dashing by.
It bothered Andy that everyone was always trying to hurry him. If they would slow down a little I could show them some of the interesting things I see every day. My friends are missing a lot by rushing to school so fast, Andy thought.
It was getting late now and Andy started to walk faster. He tried not to look at anything but the sidewalk in front of him. But something bright glinted under a bush next to the sidewalk. It was shiny and yellow and he imagined that it was a beady eye of a snake watching him.
Andy bent down for a closer look and scooped something up and put it into his pocket.
When Andy slipped into his seat at school, the tardy bell was ringing. Mrs. Rogers was sitting at her desk and had her arm around Karen. Karen’s face was red, and her cheeks were wet with tears.
“What happened?” someone asked.
“Karen lost her birthday present on the way to school,” Mrs. Rogers explained.
“It was a gold bracelet,” Karen said. “My father gave it to me yesterday, and I brought it today to show everyone.”
Andy walked up to Mrs. Rogers’ desk. “Is this your bracelet, Karen?” he asked, pulling a sparkling chain with a tiny gold heart on it out of his pocket.
Karen reached for it and said, “Where did you find it?”
“I found it under a bush on my way to school,” Andy explained.
“I didn’t see it when I came by,” Billy said.
“That’s because you were in a hurry,” Andy told him.
“You’re always slow,” Karen told Andy, “but I guess you notice more things than the rest of us.”
“You can see a lot of things if you take the time to look,” Andy said, smiling.
After school Billy and Karen walked with Andy while he told them about some of the interesting things that can be found every day. And not once did they call him a slowpoke.

During Christmastime on my mission, I was undergoing some health problems, and my companion was a new missionary. She was not happy and wanted to go home. We were walking 8 to 10 miles (13–16 km) every day, and both of us had painful blisters.
I soon became depressed and discouraged, believing that I was a bad missionary and that all of my companion’s problems were my fault. We were a miserable pair. I had been so excited about the upcoming holiday, but now I dreaded it. It loomed before me dark, cold, and lonely.
My district leader saw my struggles and offered this advice: “Keep your mind off the pain. Do whatever it takes to give your companion the Christmas spirit.” I trusted my district leader and knew he was right, so I determined that I would try to get the right spirit in both of our hearts.
I remember one dark, cold evening. We were walking down the road, and my companion began to cry. Immediately, I felt as if I had been swallowed by darkness, and I wanted to give up. But I remembered my promise and asked the Lord what I could do to help this sister. The answer that came was unexpected, but I acted promptly. I began to sing Christmas carols as loudly as I could. People kept staring at me, but I felt a strange lightness in my heart that couldn’t be subdued. My companion begged me to stop. But I told her I would not until she joined me. So she did, and we sang several songs. My companion smiled at me and seemed to enjoy the rest of the evening.
That experience was the start of an amazing holiday. It was still hard at times, but whenever the mood began to turn dismal, I threatened to start singing. That always seemed to lighten the mood.
I do not have a great singing voice, and I hate singing in front of people. But that night I was singing at the top of my lungs for all of the Bronx to hear. That Christmas I learned that we celebrate the birth of a Savior who lives today and still works for our salvation. He knows what each of us needs and how to give it to us. I will never forget the Christmas that He let me sing in His personal choir. It changed Christmas for me!
Christie Mobley served in the New York New York North Mission; she is a member of the Snowflake Seventh (YSA) Branch, Snowflake Arizona Stake.

Pam Carpenter must be a storybook princess. She is pretty, petite, and always smiling. She reigns over a huge kingdom complete with castles, lakes, islands, ships, and spaceships. And she is entertained by flights of fantasy from Peter Pan, rides with Alice in Wonderland and her friends and Captain Nemo, and pirate cruises. Her special friends include Dumbo, Goofy, Donald Duck, Chip and Dale, Mickey Mouse, and hosts of other delightful storybook characters.
Unlike most other storybook princesses, Pam works very hard at being a princess. She always looks nice, is always on the alert for people who need her special help, and graciously welcomes thousands of visitors to her kingdom each day. Such royal responsibilities seem to belong quite naturally to Pam Carpenter, a young Latter-day Saint convert from Orlando, Florida. This pretty young lady possesses a delightful combination of charm, wit, and an encyclopedic knowledge of her kingdom, and she is a person who loves helping others.
No wonder she was chosen to be the official ambassador for Walt Disney World in Florida, chosen for her special responsibilities from the more than 13,000 employees at Disney World. Because many people try out for this position, applying for it involved a series of taxing tests and interviews.
“I really wanted this, but it is so much more than just a job,” said Pam. “During the year you are an ambassador, you have to devote most of your time to it. I always come in early and stay late, and travel much of the time.
“I knew I wanted the job and felt I had something to offer and so I tried out four different years. At first I thought that if I had to try out more than once then maybe I should forget it. But then I realized that was my false pride talking, not me. I finally realized that I did not get the position to begin with because I was not ready for it—I did not know enough about what I was doing.
“The first time I tried out I felt knew all there was to know about Disney. I walked into that room and there were five managers there for the first interview. I was so scared I could hardly talk to them—my voice kind of squeaked out, I gave them all the wrong answers, and I didn’t say anything I wanted to say. I am basically a shy person, and I knew I would have to work harder at being able to get up and speak to groups and being able to present my thoughts in a clear way. So I studied and learned all the facts I could about Disney World. I learned how many acres there are in Bay Lake, how many beams were laid beneath the contemporary hotel, and how many leaves are growing on the Swiss Family tree house. And I tried to develop my poise. I transferred into tour guiding, and this helped me in talking to people and becoming more outgoing.
“I prepared in every way that I could, and then I gave it my big try. Now I am so glad that I did not give up earlier because I have had so many great experiences and met so many wonderful people. After I became ambassador, I even joined Toastmasters International where I learned more about addressing large audiences,” she added.
During the early part of her reign, Pam investigated and joined the Church.
“I had dated a Mormon, and was interested in his great family life. His family members are wonderful together, and I enjoyed spending time with them. I could see they had the key to something important that I wanted in my life. The gospel helps me to appreciate all the people I meet, but it really showed me the importance of the family unit. I love my own family even more since I joined the Church.
“I really feel that I was introduced to the Church for a reason. Meeting other Mormons reading, and talking to the missionaries all felt so right to me. I agreed with everything they taught me. It seemed so natural for me to be baptized. To me it was a very simple process; it wasn’t a big ‘do I or don’t I’ situation. I was learning things I already believed in before I ever heard of the Church. I hadn’t picked up any bad habits to overcome, so I feel like a very natural Mormon.”
Being an example for the Church comes naturally for Pam because of her experience as an ambassador. She was told when she became an ambassador that she represented all 13,000 employees and the whole Disney organization. She was chosen because she was the kind of person that her employer felt good about representing their image.
“To me there is a very specific tie-in between my job and the Church. For Disney I represent the clean, wholesome, all-American look. This is almost more of an attitude than a fashion style. You can’t really look one way and feel the other way inside. Clean, wholesome goodness is something that will never go out of style. That is one of the reasons there are strict dress codes for all of the employees here. We do not even allow men in the park without their shirts and women have to be in modest clothing. I think all young Latter-day Saints ought to try and set this kind of an example. We should be on our toes and demonstrate by the way we look and act what the gospel can do for our lives. It just is not that much trouble to be well-groomed. Combing your hair, dressing cleanly and neatly, and being generally pleasant is the kind of example I think we all should set. What a powerful influence we would be on the world if all members of the Church would be this way. And as long as I am ambassador here, it is expected that I be this kind of good example. I was always taught at home that if something is worth doing, it is worth doing right, and that is one reason I got this position in the first place. It is also one of the reasons I am having such a good year as an ambassador. I am sure not planning on changing my outlook after I leave,” she said.
Of course, Pam’s duties include more than walking around Disney World in a clean uniform. She travels widely in the U.S. and Canada, appears on many television shows and radio interviews, gives VIP tours through her kingdom, and in the company of Mickey and some of her other fantastic friends appears at children’s hospitals and schools for handicapped children.
“We take the Magic Kingdom to people who can’t get out to see it on their own. This is the most exciting and fulfilling part of my ambassador duties. There is a special warmth associated with our hospital visits because we know that many of the people we visit will never come to Disney World in person. You should see the delighted children’s faces when Mickey and the other characters walk into a hospital ward. It puts a very bright spot in the normal daily hospital routine where everything is sort of gray and white. I’ve seen patients smile who the nurses say hadn’t smiled for months. One little girl had been in a coma, and when she came out of it, they could get no response from her. She just lay there. We walked in, and she said, ‘Mickey Mouse.’ Then she smiled. The nurses thought this was incredible because they hadn’t got any kind of a response out of her for months,” Pam said.
In addition to heads of state, royalty, and entertainment and movie stars, Pam was able to show President and Sister Kimball through the Magic Kingdom.
“At the time I had only been a member of the Church for a few months, and I felt honored. I enjoyed being in the presence of this warm, wonderful, great man. Meeting President and Sister Kimball was a tremendous privilege for me because I realize how few people, some who have been in the Church all their lives, ever get this opportunity.
“I’ve had other great experiences this year as well. I met Great Britain’s Queen Mother in Toronto and many other special people who have taught me important things about life. On one of our programs in Washington, D.C., there was a young singer who was blind. He told how when he was young his parents thought he should be sheltered and kept apart from the rest of the world, so they fenced him into the backyard. He didn’t go to school; he didn’t have any friends. He was totally shut away. Yet he had learned to sing, and here he was on this program with national political figures and entertainers. This young man gave us all goosebumps with his singing. He sang ‘The Impossible Dream’ and showed us that being blind doesn’t need to be such a bad thing after all,” she said.
Pam’s work at hospitals and children’s schools has given her a special interest in the handicapped. She is learning sign language and now regularly assists the visitors to Disney World who are hearing impaired.
“I’ve been able to sign for our arts festival and recently at the Ohio and Pennsylvania schools for the deaf. You can’t imagine how excited these kids are when they learn that I am from Disney World and that I can communicate with them in sign language,” Pam said.
Before she got her job, Pam never realized how demanding or fulfilling the life of a storybook princess could be, but to her the rewards are more than worth the effort, for her job and her joys are in bringing happiness and laughter to others.
“Life is wonderful for me. I am having such a great year.* I joined the Church and I like doing all of the Church things—being around Mormons, attending meetings, and especially going to family home evenings. I love helping others, and get a special joy out of helping handicapped people. These experiences make me humble and give me a great appreciation for the things that I have, including the great privilege it is to be able to help make other people happy,” Pam said.

Rick Cartier, a former seminary student, now serving in the Brisbane Australia Mission, talks about his love of the scriptures. He says, “There were three of us in the branch that were really good friends. At times, either my friends or I went astray, but what kept bringing me back to the scriptures were two things: my testimony and caring leaders like our seminary teacher. It was love that kept bringing me back. And that’s what the scriptures are about, our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ’s love for us.” Rick and his friends are all serving full-time missions, the most missionaries the Charlottetown Branch has had out serving at the same time. They are a little like Alma and the sons of Mosiah, excited that they are all strong in the faith and teaching others.

My mid-teens were years when there was a confluence of conditions that tried and vexed me. Those are years when peer approval weighs so heavily. I found myself contending with shortness of stature, shyness, a home with outdoor plumbing, and a 4-H pig project, each of which had by then become an embarrassment. The periodic pain can be smiled at now but was real enough then. Programmed by doting uncles (and myself) in early childhood to love basketball and to aspire to be all-state, I had (until this period) been more adept at basketball than most peers. Soon I started not making the first string, then the second, and then the squad. It was a bitter pill. This failure (for the first time in athletic affairs) cruelly combined with other indications that I was for the first time outside that hard to define but real inner circle. It was a time of long thoughts. Somehow being at home feeding the pigs was not like working out with the team, especially when the boy down the block (whom I had helped somewhat to learn to play basketball) was where I wanted to be: he went on to be all-state, which he deserved.
During this time, I noticed that recycling regrets didn’t change reality. Pawing through the past was not productive. (This period was the time when my aspirations got diverted to the world of words, where there was a teacher who would not let me pass without genuine achievement.) Thus an insight dawned—not all at once—showing me that too much attention to what might have been actually gets in the way of what still can be.

I suppose there are some things in life that we would never get used to. I am reminded of an experience that happened many years ago while I was a young missionary. Between the north and south islands of New Zealand is a very rough body of water known as Cook Strait. Out in this rough water are many small and beautiful islands. On D‘Urville Island lived a large group of wonderful Maori people who were members of the Church. They were in an excellent branch of the Church and lived the gospel well. All were related to one another and were mainly professional fishermen.

President Matthew Cowley, my mission president, and I left Wellington on the steamer that sailed between the two islands. It was a rather large ship carrying up to 600 passengers. The only way for a passenger to get off the ship anywhere near D’Urville Island was to climb down a rope ladder lowered from the side of the ship at about two o’clock in the morning. This little maneuver didn’t frighten me too much until the time to perform it approached.

It was a dark night with no moon and few stars. As the ship slowed down to stop, President Cowley and I could see off in the distance a little light bobbing up and down in the water. It was a lantern held by one of the Maori men who was rowing out to pick us up. As it got closer, we could tell that the water was very rough.

Finally the boat was right under us and we could look over the railing and see them. Then we heard one of them shout for us to come down. The deck steward on the ship opened a gate in the railing and threw down the rope ladder. I looked down into the water that dark night, turned to President Cowley, and said, “You are the mission president. You go first.” He looked down that rope ladder into the darkness of the night and said, “I am the mission president. You go first.”

Fearfully, yet bravely, I started down the ladder. Never in my life had I ever climbed a rope ladder more than two or three rungs long. The first and second steps were easy because I could still feel that I was near the side of the ship. But the farther down I went, the farther the ladder hung away from the side of the ship. After I had gone down about six steps I felt very much alone and was hanging on for dear life, praying with each step.

I think that in the darkness of that night, thousands of miles away from home, I learned how to pray all over again. I was frightened, but I hung on and slowly and carefully took it one step at a time. Finally a large Maori hand grabbed me by the ankle, and a voice assured me, “You’ve made it!” I managed to get into the rowboat and put on a raincoat to keep from getting wet.

I sat down and relaxed. Then I looked up the long rope ladder to watch my wonderful mission president begin to climb down. I am sure he prayed just as hard as I did, and finally he made it into the boat. We were then with friends, feeling safe and secure. In a short while we were on dry land on D‘Urville Island. The whole branch was out to greet us in the middle of the night.

Several times while we were there, I thought of that rope ladder. I thought, That is something no one would ever get used to doing. You could never take that downward trip for granted. But doing it over and over would make it easier and possibly less frightening.

When our visit was over and it came time for us to return to the North Island it dawned on me that we needed to climb up that ladder. I discovered that a climb like that would be just as dangerous and treacherous as the climb down. This would require practically the same amount of prayer and effort.

I will never forget that one dark night in the islands of the sea. It was a most unusual and unique experience in my life.

Like many of you, I am frequently before those who are not of our faith, and the challenge is great and wonderful. Not long ago I was given a little honor before a great group of non-Latter-day Saint athletes. In the proceedings of the convention, one of my great idols, a Hall of Famer, was to take the rostrum and speak to us. Being the great athlete that he was, respected by many, I was shocked to hear his language as he repeatedly took the name of the Lord in vain. As I sat there, I wondered, “What do you do as a Latter-day Saint in these kinds of social situations?” And then I remembered—again, a great influence in my life—the counsel from a prophet and an experience that he had had one time coming out of surgery. An orderly who was wheeling the prophet back to his hospital room on a little metal cart caught his hand between the door and the cart in the elevator and, not thinking, let go with a few adjectives, taking the name of the Lord in vain in the process. And a prophet, sick as he was physically but very well spiritually, lifted his head and said, “Please don’t talk that way—that’s my best friend.”

Lorraine and Janet Fisher of the Worcester Ward explained how they handle going to parties. “We go to our friends’ parties, but it’s never been a problem. One friend brings his instant chocolate and another brings the milk. Never once have I ever been pressured into doing anything I didn’t believe I should. And they admire us. Our friends used to drink at parties, but now they don’t. They stopped drinking because they saw we had a better time. They found out you don’t need to drink to have a good time.”

Ryan found himself wandering along an unfamiliar trail. A minute later he came to a clearing in the trees and there she was, a proud dark-haired stranger with gray-blue eyes, sitting on an ornate Persian rug. She wore a full-length silk gown and a regal cape.
“Excuse me,” he said, “you haven’t seen a mountain bike around here, have you? I wiped out going down a hill. I must’ve got knocked out. When I came to, I couldn’t find the bike … or the trail I’d been on either.”
“Art thou mad?” she asked with a strange accent.
“Let me guess—the drama club is on a field trip, right? Look, if you or any of your buddies have ripped off my bike, I’m calling the cops. Just tell me where you put it so I can go home.”
“Thy words indeed condemn thee! Thou art demented.”
“Hey, c’mon, the play’s over, okay? Where’s the rest of the cast anyway? I bet the guys’ll come in waving little cardboard swords.” He touched his forehead. “My head is killing me. I must’ve hit it on a rock when I landed. Mind if I sit down?”
“I sit not with commoners.”
He sat down anyway. “You’re really carrying this too far you know.” He decided to see if he could get a normal conversation going. “You like football? I pretty much go with the Bears.”
“Doest thou expect me to believe thou livest with bears?” She stood up. “Guards!”
Nothing happened. “Missed their cue, huh? I wish they’d come too, so I can find out what happened to my bike.”
She sneezed.
“Hay fever? I get it too this time of year. My doctor gave me a prescription that seems to work. Here, I’ve got ’em here with me.” He handed her two pills. “Just don’t operate any heavy machinery for a couple of hours.” He smiled. “Of course in that outfit I doubt you’ll be doing much of that.”
“Thinkest thou to tempt me with an evil potion?” She threw the pills on the ground.
He stood up. “That’s it. I’m out of here. When I come back I’m bringing the cops. That bike cost a lot of money. Oh, I suppose you’d like to know what it cost me in farthings, right, your majesty?”
Suddenly four soldiers with swords drawn rushed into the clearing. “Oh, wow, real swords, like I’m really impressed. Okay, which one of you took my bike?”
“Throw this demon into the dungeon!” she called out.
The guards rushed him.
“Hey, cut it out!”
They started dragging him down the hill. He called out to her. “I’m going to report this. When I get done, you people will never have another drama club picnic in your entire life!”
He lay in his cell, listening to water dripping down the rough-hewn rock wall, and tried to figure out where he was. First of all, it was not a stage set made out of cardboard and wire. It was a real castle. A castle with a moat, working drawbridge, and plenty of armed guards. Why would there be a castle around here, he thought. Was Disney secretly building something?
At dusk a guard opened the door and placed a wood bowl of soup and some bread on a table and started to leave again.
“Wait. Where am I?”
“Where, indeed, but the dungeon of King Frederick, as indeed thou shalt be until the end of thy days, which because of the way Princess Kathryn raileth against thee, shouldst not be many more days hence.”
“Look, you’re not scaring me. I know this is just a dream.”
“Are the chains which bind thee a dream also?”
He pulled at the chains as hard as he could and pinched himself at the same time, hoping it would wake him up, but it didn’t do any good. “What’s going to happen to me?”
“The king will have thee brought before him. Be wise how thou answerest the king. If thou doest not answer well, thou wilt surely be put to death.”
The next morning Ryan was taken before the king.
“This is the cur who dealt so poorly with me yesterday,” Princess Kathryn said. “I want him put to death for insulting my honor.”
“My daughter says thou art a demon,” the king said.
“That’s not true, your majesty.”
“Didst thou not say to her that thou livest with bears?”
“They’re not real bears. And I don’t live with them. I just like to watch them carry the ball.”
“Seest thou what I mean,” she said to her father.
“To the dungeon!” the king called out.
“No, wait! I can explain this. I come from another kingdom. There must’ve been some kind of a time warp. Anyway, now I’m here, I can help you.”
“How?” Kathryn asked.
“I have powers.”
“Prove these powers to us,” she challenged.
Ryan set his digital watch alarm and it started buzzing. The king, the queen, and the guards quickly backed to the wall—everyone except Kathryn. He thrust the arm which held the watch in her direction. “Be careful, Princess, or I’ll turn you into a frog. No, that’s not horrible enough. I’ll turn you into a fly that’s eaten by a frog. No, that’s not lasting enough. I’ll turn you into an ox that pulls a peasant’s plow all the day long. Do not trifle with me, Princess, or you will meet my wrath.”
He was surprised, but she believed him and was frightened. He smiled. “Sorry, just kidding.” He turned to the king. “It’s okay. You can sit back down again.”
The king returned to his throne. “Thou hast spared my daughter. Wouldst thou like to marry her?”
“Well, that’s real nice of you to offer, but see, the thing is, I always planned on graduating from high school and then going on a mission before I got married.”
“When wilt thou go on this mission?” Kathryn asked.
“What year is this?”
“The year of our Lord fifteen hundred and forty.”
“Oh, well, I guess I’ll have to wait about 453 years before I can actually go.”
“I canst not wait that long for him,” Kathryn complained.
“I know, I know. Art thou interested in this stranger?” the king asked.
“Perhaps a little. Would that he were a prince; then might I have interest.”
The king stood up. “If thou canst pass the Test of Life, thou shalt be a prince.”
“You mean I have to take tests here too? Is it multiple choice? I can usually do okay on them.”
“Thou shalt surely have choices. If thou doest well, thou shalt receive my daughter to wed as well as half my kingdom and the right to be king someday.”
“All that for passing a test? I wish they’d do that in the school I go to. Especially the part about half the kingdom. I’d study a lot more.”
“Thou must first do battle with the Swordsman of Keldar. Tomorrow at dawn. My servant Michael will help thee prepare for the contest.”
Once they were alone, Ryan asked Michael. “How good is this Keldar, anyway?”
“There is a field of graves that telleth how good he be. But I have a plan how thou canst defeat him.”
“How?”
“I can steal into his tent and place a potion in his drink. It shall take away his strength. Or I can take his jousting stick and cut it part way through.”
“No, that’d be cheating. Just give me a few hints of how this game is played. We’ll set up torches and practice tonight.”
They practiced until two in the morning, and then Ryan went to the stable and spread out some straw and tried to sleep.
At dawn, he sat on his horse in a suit of armor, facing at the other end of the field the dreaded Swordsman of Keldar. The king and queen and Princess Kathryn sat in their royal chairs surrounded by other nobility of the kingdom.
A trumpet sounded. The two armored opponents spurred their horses. Both held their jousting poles ahead of them. Ryan leaned first one way and then the other, catching the swordsman in the chest and knocking him off his horse.
Ryan got off his horse and knelt down beside Keldar, who opened his eyes slowly. “You okay?” Ryan asked.
Keldar got up. “I submit to thee,” he said solemnly and then walked off the field.
Ryan watched him leave. “What does that mean?”
“It meaneth he surrendereth his house and everything he owneth to thee for pillaging.”
An hour later he and Michael entered Keldar’s house. “Anybody here?” he called out.
“All have fled to the woods,” Michael said. “They have fear of thee. Thou mayest commence pillaging.”
“Uh, could you give me a couple of hints? I’m kind of new at this.”
“Behold yon window of stained glass. Throwest thou a rock through it. Behold the curtains. Setteth them on fire. Behold the fine set of pottery. Throwest thou everything down and breaketh it.”
Ryan paused. “See, the thing is, where I come from this is called vandalism.” Ryan picked up a brick and faced the stained glass window. “What happens when I finish pillaging?”
“Keldar returneth with his family. If there remaineth an abode, they enter unto it again.”
“Keldar has a family?”
“Aye. Three children.”
“What if I break this window? How will that affect his kids?”
“It shall be even more cold than usual for them at night, but worry thou not; it is thy right.”
“Pillaging isn’t much fun when you think about how it will affect the people you’re doing it to.” He shook his head. “I’m not going to do it. Let’s go.”
“People shall not respect thee if thou doest not pillage Keldar’s house. People shall say thou art not a man.”
“I don’t care what they say. I’m still not going to do it.”
Later that night Ryan met with the king and queen and Kathryn. “Why didst thou not pillage Keldar’s house?” the king asked.
“Well, he has a family. I kept thinking of his wife and kids coming back and seeing how much damage I’d done to their home.”
The king spoke again. “Tomorrow is thy final test. Thou shalt face the Dragon of Doom. Art thou willing to face a fire-breathing dragon?”
“Sure, why not, especially since there’s no such thing as a dragon.”
“He shall go against the dragon!” the king called to the royal court. They all shouted their approval. “We will prepare a great feast for thee tonight. It may be thy last.”
“There’s no such thing as dragons.”
“Explain that to the brave souls who have died fighting him,” the king said.
Before the feast Ryan took a walk with Kathryn. “Have you ever had a date?” he asked.
“Dates I have had not, but once a fig had I.” There was a low rumble in the distance. “The dragon knowest thou art coming to meet it on the morrow. If thou doest kill it, then we shall wed.”
“Oh, yeah, right. I haven’t thought much about that part.”
“Doest thou find me beautiful?”
“Well, yeah, pretty much I’d say … overall.”
“Thou doest not sound certain.”
“Well you don’t use as much makeup as the girls I’m used to. You know, eyeshadow, stuff like that. Anyway, I’d say you’re real good looking for the 1500s.”
“Some say I am the most beautiful in the kingdom.”
“I guess it depends how big the kingdom is.”
She was insulted at first, but then began to laugh. “Thou makest me mirthful. I liketh that. Tomorrow I will accompany thee to the entrance of the dragon’s cave.”
Before the sun was even up, the entire king’s court rode out with him to the dragon’s cave. They stopped far away, but Kathryn insisted on riding with Ryan and Michael to the cave. “I shall wait for thee out here,” she said.
Michael handed Ryan a large sword and a torch. He stepped inside the cave. There was a strange smell inside. Up ahead he saw a vaporous cloud. He turned around and returned to the cave entrance. “Uh, excuse me, can I ask a question? The others who went in the cave and never came out, did they all take a torch with them? I mean nobody took a flashlight, right?”
“Flashlight?” Michael asked.
“Oh yeah, right. Well anyway, I think I know what your problem is. Move away.” Ryan stepped to the entrance of the cave, tossed the torch inside, and jumped to the side. A large explosion rocked the cave and fire flashed out of the entrance, lighting up the predawn sky. “There never was a dragon, Michael. It was just a natural gas buildup. Everyone who went in the cave with a torch set it on fire.”
“Enter therein with thy sword and makest thou large noises. Return then with a tale of how thou hast fought the dragon. Thou couldst become the most famous knight of all.”
“Making up stories wouldn’t be right,” Ryan said.
That evening at a royal banquet, the king spoke. “The test thou didst take wast designed to determine thine integrity. By refusing to take unfair advantage of Keldar, by refusing to pillage another’s property, by not inventing stories about the dragon, thou hast demonstrated integrity. One who has control of self can rule a nation. Thou shalt be the next king. I dub thee Man of Ethics and Integrity. On the morrow thou and Kathryn shall wed.”
“But we haven’t even had a date yet.”
“‘Tis no matter; we will have figs,” Kathryn said.
Suddenly Ryan opened his eyes and saw Kathryn wearing a white uniform and holding a clip chart in her hand.
“Thank you for wearing some makeup,” he said.
She smiled. “Ryan, you’ve been drifting in and out of consciousness since they brought you in here after your mountain bike accident. You must have been dreaming.”
“Does that mean we’re not going to wed on the morrow?”
She smiled. “Yes, that’s what it means.”
“I thought it was a little fast.”
“Just relax, okay? Your folks went down to the cafeteria for something to eat. They’ll be back in a minute.”
“In my dream I was dubbed a man of ethics and integrity.” He paused. “But it was all just a dream.”
“You can still be known as that kind of person,” she said.
Ryan thought about it. “I think I’d like that.”
“Can I get you anything to eat?”
He hesitated. “I don’t suppose you could get me some figs, could you?”

Elder Terence M. Vinson, newly called to the Second Quorum of the Seventy, had never heard the term Mormon before meeting Kay Anne Carden in the early 1970s in Sydney, Australia. The pair talked about religion and ultimately came to an agreement. Each Sunday, they would attend both the church of Terence’s youth and a small branch of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. One group met in a large and beautiful building, the other in a small rented space that the few Latter-day Saints had been able to procure.
But after a while “the comparison was embarrassing,” and Terence began taking the missionary discussions. He had many questions. Then, while attending stake conference, he felt a message as clearly as if it had been spoken. “I needed to join the Church in order to progress. All the questions I had would have answers,” he said.
He was baptized the next week.

1 Over the mountains and through the desert to Grandmother’s house we go!
2 Abuelita (Grandmother)!
3 The day after Thanksgiving
Why haven’t you gone into town with your brothers and sisters and cousins?
Because I love you, and I don’t get to see you very often.
4 You’re a good boy, Ramón, and you’ll be a good man. I wish your grandfather could have known you.
I wish I could have known him, too, Abuelita. I’m trying to be good so I can be with him someday. I don’t always make it, though.
5 Neither do I, querido (dear), and he didn’t either. But he always tried to do his very best, and he always repented of his sins. If we do the same, I think we’ll be fine.
6 Now, can you find room for another piece of my candy?
I’ll do my very best.

Matthew clamped his hands over his ears. “I can’t hear you!” He chanted it over and over to drown out his little brother’s whining.
“Yes, you can,” Peter said. “Why can’t I go with you?”
The trouble was, Peter always wanted to hang out with Matthew. Usually Matthew didn’t mind. But today he wanted to go to the park with just his friends. Peter could be such a pest!
“Why can’t you leave me alone?” Matthew said between gritted teeth. “You’ve got your own friends.” Then he ran out of the house before Peter could follow him.
At first he felt a little bad about leaving his brother behind. But when he and his friends started playing soccer, he forgot all about Peter.
When he got home from the park, Matthew walked into his bedroom. He stopped cold in his tracks. He couldn’t believe it! One of his dinosaur models was scattered in pieces all over the floor. It was the T-rex, his favorite.
“Peter!” Matthew yelled. “What did you do?”
Dad stuck his head in the doorway. “What’s all the yelling about?”
All Matthew could do was point to the broken model. He was too angry to even speak. It had taken him hours to paint it and put it together.
Peter came to the bedroom door, eyes on the floor. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drop it. I just wanted to play with it. I tried to fix it. …”
“Get out of my room and don’t ever come in here again!” Matthew yelled.
Peter started to cry and ran down the hallway.
Matthew didn’t need to look at Dad to know what look he had on his face.
“I’m sorry,” Matthew said at last. “But he deserved it! He shouldn’t have played with my dinosaur. And then he wrecked it.”
“It was wrong of him to play with it,” Dad said. “But I think he just wants to do the same stuff you do. You’re probably the most important person in the world to him.”
Matthew thought about that. He could picture the happy look Peter had when they played basketball together, even though Peter couldn’t dribble the ball that well. Matthew’s shoulders slumped. “I probably need to tell him I’m sorry for yelling at him.”
He found Peter curled up in his bed, the covers pulled up to his eyes. Matthew tugged at the covers. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Peter swiped tears off his cheek. “I’m sorry I wrecked your dinosaur,” he said in a muffled voice.
Matthew thought of all the hours he’d spent making the dinosaur perfect. He swallowed hard. “It’s OK,” he said. “Maybe we can fix it.”
Peter sat up. “You mean I can help you?”
Matthew nodded. “Sure.”
By the end of the afternoon, the dinosaur looked pretty good—even if one eye was a little crooked.
Matthew glued the last piece in place. “Not bad,” he said.
“Not bad,” Peter echoed.
Matthew studied the model and smiled. “Cool. He looks like he was in a fight but still came out on top.”
“Cool,” Peter said.
The next day Mrs. Garcia assigned the class to write about the most important person in their life. Matthew didn’t even have to think twice about who he would write about. His essay about Peter got an A. But that wasn’t as important as realizing how much Peter meant to him.

But you know something, I have great faith in the young women and young men of the Church. Everywhere I go I find them standing for what is right. Modesty is still popular. Good manners are still to be found and Christ-like behavior is still the model. All over our young people are saying, "Enough is enough." Another group, this one consisting of young men and young women, decided that they had had all of the improper high school dances they wanted. Their message to the school administration was clear: "Bring the dances up to our standards or we'll start holding our own." Large numbers of young men have returned to the standards of conduct the world has now abandoned. They treat the young women in their lives with courtesy and respect -- and the young women are doing the same. Things are changing and it's young people like you who are changing them. That's why I have faith in you and in your tomorrows.