Gospel Story Finder

In the Free home in Williamsville, New York, the law had been laid down. No dogs allowed. Crysti was allergic, Melanie didn’t like them, and Mom and Dad didn’t want the problems associated with man’s best friend. Janna Free, the dog lover in the family, had asked before but to no avail.
“I don’t think so,” was always the reply whenever the question was posed.
For a while, it appeared the Free home would remain a dog-free environment.
Then things changed. Crysti moved out, Melanie left for her mission, and Mom and Dad turned into a couple of old softies.
And Janna—the 16-year-old with the innocent smile—decided to give Mom and Dad the big “Pleeeeeeeeease” once more. And this time, the response was a little different.
“We’ll talk about it,” said Mom. And for Janna there was a glimmer of hope.
But why the change of heart? Credit Janna for that. Her well-thought-out plan to get a dog became an offer Mom and Dad couldn’t refuse.
Janna’s strategy for getting a dog was simple. She would affiliate herself with Guiding Eyes for the Blind, and raise a guiding eye dog. She patiently explained to her parents that she would keep a dog for 18 months, while socializing it and teaching it manners and commands. Then she’d return the dog to Guiding Eyes for the Blind for the four months of specialized training all guide dogs need before being assigned to a blind person.
It was a simple plan, really. Janna, a member of the Amherst Ward, Buffalo New York Stake, would get her dog. It would be a short-term deal, and she’d be performing a service at the same time. Who could argue? Certainly not Janna’s mom and dad.
“I’d always wanted a dog, and when I was 16 it just worked out that I was looking for a project to do for Girl Scouts—to earn my Gold Award,” says Janna, now 18 and a freshman at BYU. “One day I saw a sign on a bulletin board for Guiding Eyes for the Blind.” The light went on.
“So I took down the number and came home and started bugging my parents to let me do this project,” she continues. Janna, a firm believer in the if-at-first-you-don’t-succeed adage, tried again.
Let’s just say that Janna Free can be pretty persuasive. “Oh, yes, she was,” says Janna’s mom, Maureen, remembering the process. “She went and got all sorts of literature on dogs. She showed us all the things she knew she was going to have to do. She was pretty convincing.”
Guiding Eyes for the Blind, a nonprofit organization in Yorktown Heights, New York, which has placed more than 4,000 guide dogs with blind people since it began in 1956, evaluated Janna’s application, and two weeks later approved her to receive a dog.
“I was a little nervous because I had never had a dog before. I wasn’t sure how [Guiding Eyes] would feel about giving one of their dogs to a first-time raiser, especially one so young,” Janna says.
Apparently that wasn’t a problem, because in May of 1994, Phineas, a 14-week-old black labrador retriever, was delivered to the Frees’ front door. And Janna’s year-and-a-half odyssey with her puppy began.
“There was a lot of adjustment because I took sole responsibility for Phineas. I had to walk him twice a day. I had to schedule my time so that I would be home. I didn’t want to dump him on my parents,” Janna recalls.
“You’re doing what?” was a common question among Janna’s friends. “They couldn’t believe I’d take a dog knowing I’d have to give him up in the end. That was generally the first reaction they’d give. But I knew when I took him on that I wasn’t going to be able to keep him. But I also knew he could do something better than just sit around as a house pet. I was excited to be a part of that.
“My greatest fear,” she continues, “was that he would never make it.”
Unfortunately, not all dogs graduate to become guiding eye dogs. Some don’t have the temperament. Some don’t respond to the training. Some just aren’t cut out for the task.
It was Janna’s job as a puppy raiser to take Phineas into new situations that would acclimate him to things he would face as a guiding eye dog. If Janna had to run to the store, Phineas went with her. She made arrangements with local shopkeepers to allow her to take him inside their stores. She was also impressed at how the public awareness about guide dogs increased as she took Phineas around.
Janna also noticed how her experiences with Phineas made her feel. “I’ve always wanted to keep busy. I’ve never been one to just sit around, and this felt like the perfect opportunity for me to do something for someone. There was always that sense of, Yes, I’m doing this for someone. I’m doing this for a blind person,” she says.
Although Janna’s work with Phineas made her more aware of the disabilities of people around her, she also noticed her own attitude change when she realized how blessed she was. When she’d stop and think that somewhere a blind person needed Phineas to have a full and active life, she was humbled.
“The best thing for me was what I’ve learned about service. I’ve gained a testimony of the idea that when you lose your life you find it. There are times when I get kind of bogged down when things go wrong. But my problems become so minuscule in comparison to the people I’m helping. I don’t have to go through life blind. It really gives me a renewed appreciation of how blessed I am,” she says.
All along, Janna knew her time with Phineas was short. And when the day came in August of 1995 for Phineas to leave, it was no easy thing.
“I cried. I tried not to but I cried,” she says. “Phineas knew something was going on. I was sobbing. But he just got in the car and went away.”
Last January, Janna traveled to Yorktown Heights for Phineas’s graduation from Guiding Eyes for the Blind. It was there that Janna met Joyce, the blind woman who became Phineas’s new owner. They talked, and Joyce filled Janna in on what Phineas had been up to.
Never was anybody more happy to have dog slobber on her face than Janna. “I was nervous to see whether he’d remember me. I petted him for a long time and got kisses all over my face. I was really excited,” she adds. “That was a major emotion for me. I felt grateful that he had made it all the way. It was really kind of a culminating experience to go see the graduation. I was just really proud of him.”
These days, there are few visual reminders of Phineas’s 18-month stay in the Free home. But Phineas’s impact on Janna is not forgotten. And vice versa.

The rest of Dad’s family had been converted to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints after Dad was grown and had left home. Uncle Bob was the youngest member of Dad’s family, and he had a special testimony of the Church.

One day Uncle Bob stacked an armload of wood and turned to my mother. The spirit was strong in his heart as he began to explain the things he had been learning in church and through study of the scriptures and personal prayer. He told her many things about the gospel of Jesus Christ and about Joseph Smith praying to know which church was true and discovering that not one of the churches in his day had the fullness of the gospel. Uncle Bob told her how Joseph Smith had been privileged to see God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, and to know for himself that They had bodies of flesh and bone, just as he had. Uncle Bob’s eyes never wavered from my mother’s face as he bore his strong testimony.

Mother didn’t believe a boy so young as Uncle Bob could know these things. She became angry at the words she was hearing and told Uncle Bob, “You may come back to my house anytime, but never mention these things here again.”

Uncle Bob loved my parents and wanted to come as often as he could. He agreed. “Aunt Ruth, I will never mention these things again in your home, I promise. I also promise you that someday you will ask me to baptize you.”

Now, this was many years ago, when young people did not speak their minds. They were expected to show respect to those who were older than they. It took a lot of courage for Uncle Bob to speak to my mother this way.

We spent many happy times with Uncle Bob. He stayed with us occasionally while our parents went to Wyoming to visit my mother’s family. He never broke his promise to my mother by again speaking of the great truths of the gospel or bearing his testimony, not even when both of our parents were away.

One year Dad was farming the Phillipi place in Mackay, Idaho. Uncle Bob came to stay for two weeks. My other sister, Jeannie, made spice cake every day. We whipped a half-gallon canful of pure cream for the topping. The smells seemed to curl around the corners of the room and out to the fields where Jack and Uncle Bob worked. It made your mouth water, it was such a tangy odor. But not even then, with a stove full of wood and a stomach full of sweet spice cake did Uncle Bob break his vow to my mother.

The years kept going by, one by one. Uncle Bob grew up, married, and had six sons and one daughter. He always stayed close to the Church. He knew that it was true. He held many callings over the years. Wherever he was needed, he served, becoming in later years a stake patriarch and a temple worker in the Portland Temple.

In 1971 Uncle Bob was fifty years old. My mother was sixty-four that year, and she was living in Powell, Wyoming. She telephoned Uncle Bob.

It’s curious—after all those years, she still remembered! Mother said, “Will you come, Bob. Will you come and baptize me?” On April 15, 1971, forty years after my uncle had made his promise to her, he baptized my mother a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Imagine strolling down the streets of your neighborhood, only something looks different. Looking around, you may ask yourself, “Wasn’t that house white before? When did they find time to plant all these flowers?”
Many of the homes, which only two days before looked old and worn down, are now spruced up and polished. Is it a miracle? According to teens in northern Utah, it’s all in a day’s—well, make that two-days’—work.
The Layton Utah Kays Creek Stake hosted a fun, service-filled youth conference. For two days teens and leaders alike sacrificed their time and energy to fix up several homes in a nearby city.
And they weren’t just any homes. Through fasting and prayer co-chair Neil Wall and his committee carefully selected those people (some members of the Church and some not) they thought could really use the help—mostly single mothers, the elderly, and the disabled.
And then, with 16 homes in mind, donated supplies, and multiple prayers of faith, the youth set out to offer service in life-sized proportions.
These teens quickly learned that this degree of service (it was approximately 100 degrees both days) was not for the faint of heart.
But despite the heat, what was initially a good-sized service project grew even bigger when more hands—attached to energetic teens—showed up than expected. On Friday afternoon approximately 240 teens participated, but by Saturday Brother Wall estimated there were closer to 270.
“We really thought we would lose some because it was hard work and it was very hot and the days were long,” he says. “We thought, ‘On Saturday we won’t get as many.’ And we ended up with more. It really surprised us.”
And many hands made light work. With handfuls of help, the stake restored more than 24 homes—not just the original 16. They finished all their contingency projects and then some.
“I know without a doubt they will never forget it,” Brother Wall says. “They admit, it was hard, it was hot, and it wasn’t fun in one way because it was work, but it was rewarding. They could sense that they were doing something good.”
And these Utah teens proved themselves quite handy. Working under the direction of volunteer contractors, teens spent the bulk of their time doing all kinds of odd jobs: mowing lawns, hauling away garbage, painting, pouring cement for ramps for the disabled, roofing, and so on. At one house they planted flowers in a yard where previously trees had been growing wild, sending branches through windows.
“Even though I was tired, I didn’t want to stop. I never realized how good it feels to give all your strength to help better someone else’s life,” says 17-year-old Ashlee Karpowitz.
Many of the youth agreed with Ashlee. They found that working outside in hot weather turned out to be surprisingly fun—plus a few added activity breaks didn’t hurt either. The event kicked off on Thursday evening with a dinner, music from a local band, and a movie under the stars. On Friday evening every last ounce of energy was spent slipping down a plastic water slide. Hearty meals also helped to break up the workdays.
Sixteen-year-old Taylor Merrill had only good things to say about it. “My favorite part of youth conference was using the spray-paint gun and eating the food. We had sub sandwiches for lunch every day. I always tried to eat as much as I could before we went back to work.”
But fun, sun, food, and spray-paint guns were only the beginning. In addition to the fresh paint and new leak-proof roofs, testimonies were refurbished as well.
“I feel like I accomplished something in my heart,” says 14-year-old Sarah Loock. “I made myself stronger, raised my feelings of self-worth, and strengthened my testimony.”
Like Sarah, many of these youth didn’t realize until later that service has spiritual side effects: when you forget about yourself and serve others, you can’t help but find happiness.
“I feel like I gained stronger friendships, a stronger testimony of the Church, and a closer relationship with my Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ,” says Kelly Smith, 14.
“While we worked on people’s houses I felt the Spirit of the Lord,” says 15-year-old Katie Stout.
The youth and leaders alike found the whole experience to be gratifying, but the homeowners were also blessed.
“Almost without exception, they were so excited, with tears in their eyes, just grateful that someone would consider doing it for them,” Brother Wall explains. “We had a fireside to conclude the event, and one of the sisters whose home we worked on came and spoke. It was just wonderful. The kids were just beaming.”
Today more than 270 kids may walk down the streets of this same neighborhood and see something different. Sure, anyone might notice the shiny paint, the newly made ramps, or the vibrant flowers. But when teens from the Layton Utah Kays Creek Stake walk down these streets, they will remember how good it felt when they served people who really needed help. These teens witnessed firsthand that, when it comes to serving, a handful of help goes a long way.

Take a dose of Irish mist, mix well with 13 lively Scouts (plus three tired leaders), add a blazing campfire, a bucketful of gnats, and stir with tons of energy. The result? A bubbling, sizzling Scout camp set at Castlewellan beside the Mountains of Mourne, deep in the wilds of Northern Ireland.
Scouting has been organized in the Belfast Northern Ireland Stake barely two years. The 111th Belfast Troop includes both member and nonmember boys who found many adventures during their campout. The highlight was the obstacle course on the last day, which was won by 11-year-old John Pratt, a fourth-generation Latter-day Saint.
Fourth-generation Saints are rare in northern Ireland. John’s great-grandmother was baptized in 1926 in England when missionaries still wore top hats. To celebrate the Church’s 150 years in the British Isles, John and some of his fellow Scouts went to the National Jamboree in Preston, England, further strengthening the Scouting program in the British Isles.

As the father of seven sons, I have always wanted them to love, honor, and respect their mother. As the older ones have gone through their teen years and beyond, it has been gratifying to watch them do special things for their mother.
My wife, Nicki, loves flowers. Over the years, it has not been uncommon for one of the boys to bring his mother a special bouquet of a dozen roses. These floral gifts haven’t necessarily come on Mother’s Day, her birthday, or some other special occasion, although they have come then too. More often than not, these timely gifts come spontaneously and unexpectedly just to say, “Thanks, Mom, for everything you do and for putting up with me.”
Such was the case when Jarom, our mission-bound son, surprised his mother. Over the years Jarom had found words and gestures of love and appreciation difficult to come by. He was a big, handsome, muscular young man who could bench-press 300 pounds but still struggled to refine the delicate art of telling his mother he loved her.
Of course, Nicki knew Jarom loved her, and she had accepted the fact that he would probably communicate his love and appreciation to her in other ways not associated with flowers, cards, or even spoken words.
But one afternoon he walked into the house and handed her a bouquet of yellow long-stemmed roses. Somewhat taken aback, Nicki caught her breath and exclaimed, “Jarom, how beautiful!” She instinctively breathed in their rich fragrance. “I love them. One dozen yellow roses!”
Jarom shrugged sheepishly and shook his head. “Actually, there are only 11,” he confessed. He cleared his throat and smiled bashfully. “I gave one of them away.”
He paused and then explained. “I picked up the roses and was on my way home when I passed this girl from our neighborhood. She was about nine or ten, just kind of dragging down the sidewalk, looking really sad.” He shrugged and grinned. “So I figured, why not. I stopped, took a rose from your bouquet and handed it to her. I told her to have a great day.”
“What did she do?” Nicki asked, curious.
Jarom laughed. “Well, she wasn’t sad anymore.” He took a deep breath and added, “So that’s why you’ve only got 11 roses.”
Nicki smiled for a moment and tried to picture in her mind that girl walking down the street, discouraged and perhaps crushed by some adolescent tragedy. In the midst of her sorrow she looks up and sees this big, handsome neighbor approach her with a single yellow rose, perhaps the first she has ever received in her life. He smiles at her, hands her the rose, and tells her to have a great day. She is probably flattered beyond words, and suddenly her gray day is brightened by the unexpected light from Jarom’s yellow rose.

When people told Melissa* to snap out of it, it only made her feel worse. She would try but would still wake up the next day feeling awful. “I didn’t know what to do. I would sleep the day away because I felt totally worthless.”
“I didn’t even realize I was depressed,” she says. “I didn’t even think to turn to my Heavenly Father for help.”
She also didn’t want to talk to her mom about what she was feeling. “I thought my mom would not like me for opening up and letting her know I was hurting. But once I talked to her she was really supportive, and I needed that.”
When Melissa was 14, her mom took her to a doctor. “At first I thought, No way! I don’t need a counselor. I’m fine! But I guess I wasn’t fine. When you’re depressed you don’t really realize there’s something wrong with you. And when you finally do recognize it, you’re so immune to it that it’s hard to deal with.”
Melissa has been in counseling for more than a year, and she looks forward to her once-a-week therapy sessions now. She’s glad she decided to get help. “I didn’t think I would ever need help. I didn’t think I would ever go through the things I went through. After a while I finally realized I needed to get down on my knees and ask for help. And that help came. I turned to my scriptures more often, and there would always be something there I needed to hear.”
Melissa has suffered a lot because of depression, but she feels her reactions to her trials have made her into a better person. “When I say a prayer I thank Heavenly Father for my challenges because they make me stronger and they strengthen my testimony and help me grow closer to Him.”
Things are still not easy for Melissa, Becky, and Anna. But since they have turned to the Lord and requested help from other sources as well, they are doing much better, and they now feel their lives are worth living. Becky says, “Even if you feel like no one else has ever gone through this, Jesus Christ has. He has felt every single thing.”

President Brigham Young recalled:
“Over [the] kitchen was situated the room in which the Prophet received revelations and in which he instructed his brethren [the School of the Prophets]. The brethren came to that place for hundreds of miles to attend school in a little room probably no larger than eleven by fourteen [feet—about 3.3 by 4.2 meters]. When they assembled together in this room after breakfast, the first thing they did was to light their pipes, and, while smoking, talk about the great things of the kingdom, and spit all over the room, and as soon as the pipe was out of their mouths a large chew of tobacco would then be taken. Often when the Prophet entered the room to give the school instructions he would find himself in a cloud of tobacco smoke. This, and the complaints of his wife at having to clean so filthy a floor, made the Prophet think upon the matter, and he inquired of the Lord relating to the conduct of the Elders in using tobacco, and the revelation known as the Word of Wisdom was the result of his inquiry” (Brigham Young, in Journal of Discourses, 12:158).
Brother Zebedee Coltrin adds the following information to this story: “When the Word of Wisdom [D&C 89] was first presented by the Prophet Joseph … there were twenty out of the twenty-one who used tobacco and they all immediately threw their tobacco and pipes into the fire” (minutes, Salt Lake City School of Prophets, 3 October 1883, page 56).

Thump! went the backpack on the living room end table. “Put your bag in your room, Petey!” Mother said as she rounded the corner, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. Her smile faded as she noticed Peter’s somber face. “Are you OK?”
“I guess so.” Peter shrugged as he hung his coat on a hook by the door.
“Then why the glum face? Did you have a fight with Justin?”
“Well, no … It’s just that whenever I ask him to come to Primary with me, he says he’s too busy or has stuff to do or something. Why can’t I make him come? Primary is so cool!”
“Let’s sit down a minute,” Mother said, heading for the couch. She tossed the towel onto the end table next to Peter’s backpack. “Do you remember the eleventh article of faith?” she asked when they were seated. “I think that’s one you’ve already learned.”
“Hmmm, let me think.”
“‘We claim the privilege …’” she started him off.
“Oh, yeah! I remember now. That’s the one that says ‘how, where, or what they may.’”
“That’s right! It says, ‘We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship …’”
“‘how, where, or what they may!’” Peter finished proudly.
“That’s very good, Petey. But do you know what it means?”
Peter began to fidget on the couch.
Mother smiled thoughtfully. “Let me see if I can help. Remember last week, when Dad was out of town and we had that snowstorm?”
“Do I ever! We had to shovel the walks and driveway before school. It was a lot of work. And then the neighbor kids wanted to walk through the snow, so they tromped across our lawn, instead! What a waste of time!” Peter shook his head, remembering the footprints across the front lawn.
“Well, no it wasn’t,” Mother corrected gently. “Because our walks were clear, it was easy to get the car out to take you to school.”
“OK, OK.” Peter’s nose wrinkled slightly. “I still don’t get what that has to do with the eleventh article of faith—or Justin.”
“Well, we worked hard to clear a path in the snow—that’s what we wanted to do. It was important to us. But the neighborhood children chose to walk in the snow, instead—because that’s what was important to them. Right?”
“Right,” Peter said. “So what?”
“Well, you want Justin to go to Primary on Sunday because it’s important to you, right?”
“Oh. I think I get it,” Peter said slowly. “Even though I choose to go to Primary, that doesn’t mean that Justin has to, right?”
Mother smiled. “That’s right. Heavenly Father has given us a very precious gift called agency. It is the right to choose and act for ourselves. We can’t force someone to follow the same path we choose to follow. However, while you need to let Justin have his agency, it’s also very good for you to love him and be his friend. You can keep showing Justin the ‘clear path’ that’s important to you. And maybe—just maybe—he’ll want to follow it one day.”
As Peter grabbed his backpack and headed up the stairs, he turned and smiled. “I’m glad I have my agency so I can choose to go to Primary.”

“One cow in our team was very intelligent. In fact, she was so smart that she used to hide in the willows to keep from being yoked up but when father found her and yoked her she was a good worker and a good milker. She got very lame at one time and could scarcely travel. My parents were very worried, since they had already lost one. They were afraid they could not travel as fast as the rest of the company, and so Mother said she would make a poultice and put it on as soon as the cow laid down for the night. She made a very large one that covered all of the lame hip. Well, the next morning, when father went out to get the cows up he called out, ‘Why, Mother, you have poulticed the wrong hip.’ Mother said, ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s all right. It has gone clear through.’ And sure enough she (the cow) limped very little that day, and was soon as well as ever. I know there was a great deal of faith mixed up with that poultice.”

Out on the field, Richard makes the game look simple. He feints, counterfeints, and passes. He sees an opening and sprints for it, waving his hand to let fellow players know he’s in the clear. On defense he shouts instructions and directs traffic as though he’s been playing all his life—which is just about the truth. His expertise, along with his scholarship in school, have qualified him for two trips abroad with soccer teams—one to Glenrothes, Scotland, another to Den Haag, Holland. While there, Richard lived with families and attended school, as well as playing exhibition soccer.
Of course, there have been embarrassing times, too. Like slipping and falling in the mud, or getting clobbered with a lopsided score, or losing every game during the season when Dad was the head coach. But some of that has to be expected.
How Richard plays in a particular match is determined by two things: which position he’s playing (he plays three), and which team he’s playing for at the time (he plays on four). On the ward team the ages vary significantly. So do the skill levels. But there, playing is mostly for fun. On the all-star team or in league competition, games are closely contested, and each move makes a difference.
Richard and John will talk for hours about their favorite sport. John plays forward, an offensive position that puts him on the front line of attack. Richard usually plays halfback, the midfield position, which challenges him by requiring both offensive and defensive skills. However, Richard has also played forward, as well as fullback (the last defender between the ball and the goalie).
They disagree about which is the ideal position to play. John says forwards have the most enjoyable job on the field because they go where they want. “It’s kind of like playing hide-and-seek with the defense,” he says. But he also notes that forwards often take the blame for missed goals. Richard counters that halfbacks have the fun of playing at both ends of the field, which, though it demands endurance, allows them power to control the tempo of the game.
John says fullbacks get the most rest, that their main task is to steal the ball and relay it to the opposite end of the field. Richard notes, however, that the defense is often outnumbered, and the fullback’s role is vital in preventing goals. Both agree, however, that the goalie may have the roughest assignment. He’s expected to analyze each shot-on-goal correctly and position himself properly to block or deflect it, often diving face down on the turf in the effort.
The two young men also discuss dreams, like playing on a professional or Olympic team, or even more immediate wishes, like attending a soccer clinic at BYU.
At a home evening recently, Richard brought out a scrapbook he keeps; it’s full of his souvenirs. He passed it around the family circle, describing photos he took himself and clippings from newspapers. The rest of the family joined in with other stories, laughter, and warmth. It was clear that they were all involved in learning lessons through their Church activity and through sports. They were learning about brotherhood by working together; they were learning to plan their time to be able to do things they enjoy and still meet school, Church, and household responsibilities; they were learning about family love, caring, and sharing; and they were learning about fixing goals for themselves. It was clear that they’re involved with soccer—and with each other—for more than just the kicks.

As my body hit the gym floor, a flood of mixed feelings swept through me. A numbing pain throbbed in my left temple, and I wanted to punch something … or somebody—number 11 in the black jersey, to be specific.
It had been a great game, the kind of Church basketball game that you look forward to telling college roommates about years later. We were the undersized, undermanned underdogs. Our opponents were priests, but they looked like men, sporting beards and bowling-ball-sized biceps. For three quarters they had manhandled us, and yet somehow the scoreboard showed us deadlocked at 33. Our pint-sized crew was still in the game.
After making a quick layup to tie the game, I was tightly guarding an opponent to prevent him from catching the inbounds pass when I saw number 11—all six feet four, 225 pounds of him. Suddenly, a massive elbow crashed into my head, sending me sprawling onto the carpeted gym floor.
And now, every fiber of my being wanted to hit him back. I got up quickly and glared at the giant, with every intention of sending a message of my own. He stood there, stone-faced, ready for a fight if that were the case. My natural inclination screamed at me to deck him.
But my eyes then focused past him to a poster on the wall. Our stake president had requested that a scripture be placed on the gym wall during the basketball season. The poster had part of Mosiah 18:9 on it: “To stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in.”
The words hit me harder than his elbow had. I, a priesthood holder, was responsible to stand as a witness of God at all times and in all places, not just on Sunday, not just at the sacrament table or in seminary. My actions portrayed my beliefs, no matter where I was or who was watching me.
We ended up losing that game. But before I left the court, I found number 11. I reached out my hand, and he shook it briefly. “Good game,” I told him, and I headed down the hall. We lost that game, but for the first time I felt I had truly won.

My classmates and I were staying overnight at Tanyllyn Lodge in the Welsh mountains as part of our sixth-form geography field trip. I was glad that my friend Louise and I were assigned to share a room.
It took us a while to get ready for bed. We took turns using the one tiny sink in the room and the even tinier mirror. Our clothing for the next day had to be set out along with our hiking boots and thick socks. Louise finished her preparations before I did and climbed into her bed.
When I had finished doing everything except saying my prayers, I hesitated beside my bed. Louise was not a member of the Church and had no idea I prayed each night.
My first instinct was to slip into bed as she had done and feign sleep while I silently prayed. But I anticipated two big flaws with that decision. First, I knew Louise would start talking to me and I would never make it through my prayer uninterrupted. Second, I was a little daunted by the next day’s grueling agenda and needed the comfort of a fervent prayer on my knees.
I vacillated in indecision for a few minutes, then turned to Louise and told her I was going to say a prayer. She looked a bit startled, but before she could say anything, I knelt at the end of the bed, bowed my head, closed my eyes, and offered a silent personal prayer. She was still watching when I rose.
There was a rather awkward silence as I crawled into my bed. As I anxiously searched for something to say, Louise said, “Sian, do you do that every night?”
“Yes,” I replied.
There was a slight pause, then the question, “What do you say?”
I was surprised. I had never really considered the possibility of someone not knowing how to pray. I told Louise I began my prayers by addressing our Father in Heaven. Then I thanked him for blessings I had received, asked him to help me, and closed my prayer in the name of Jesus Christ.
There was another pause, and during the silence I felt my heartbeat quicken. Before I lost my nerve, I asked her if she would like to pray with me.
“Okay,” she said, with curiosity in her voice. “What do we do?”
We knelt together by the side of the bed, and I said a prayer aloud. When it was over, I asked her how she felt.
She smiled shyly. “Well, you’ve given me something to think about.”
I don’t know what Louise’s thoughts were as we lay in our beds afterward. Mine were thoughts of gratitude. Lying there in the dark, I felt the Spirit confirming to me that we do have a Heavenly Father who loves us and listens to our prayers. I hope Louise felt it, too.

Another time in the military a whole delegation of LDS college men went through summer training. As they moved from one field demonstration to another, each hour they endured the military instructors who began each session with a dirty joke. One NCO unintentionally prefaced the inevitable lewd story by asking, “Anyone object to a joke?” There was a split second of intense silence while the opportunity ran through the group. Then quickly from the back came a solitary but solid, “Yes.” The cadreman looked up in shocked surprise, immediately becoming defensive. Intending to intimidate such an upstart, he fired back, “Well, leave if you don’t like it.” Again a second of silence—followed by a decision. Then three-fourths of the group voted with their feet.

The Christmas spirit knew no bounds as the Young Men and Young Women of the Huntington Beach Seventh Ward, Huntington Beach California Stake, crossed the Mexican border to celebrate Christmas with the Tecate Branch, Tijuana Mexico Stake. Christmas carols were sung in Spanish and English, and colorful piñatas made by the Mexican Saints were broken, scattering candies and fruits to everyone. A delicious homemade tamale dinner followed, treating the Californians to the tasty talents of their new friends. The Huntington Beach Ward then gave gifts of throw rugs designed by the Young Men, handmade stockings filled with treats made by the Young Women, and 16 tricycles and bicycles to the Tecate Saints. Both groups joined in a tearful rendition of “O, Little Town of Bethlehem” as they said good-bye to their newfound friends.

I was excited! Spring was here, and I could play outside without a coat. Kindergarten was almost out for the summer, and I was getting ready to play ball and help Dad with the garden. But I forgot all about Mother’s Day. I didn’t remember until my Primary teacher reminded us the Sunday before. I knew then that I would have to have a secret meeting with Aaron and Jarom.
Aaron and Jarom are my two brothers. Aaron’s four, and Jarom’s only two, but he’s real smart. He can talk really good. In fact, he can do nearly everything Aaron and I can.
That night when we were in bed, I talked to Aaron and Jarom and told them that next Sunday was Mother’s Day and that we just had to get Mom a present. We knew Dad was going to give her something—he always does. But we wanted to give her a big surprise just from us.
We thought about giving Mom a motorcycle or a horse or a pickup truck. Those things would have made good presents, but we knew we couldn’t ever get anything like that till we were a lot older.
We finally decided that we would get all our money together and go to Brother Bob’s store to buy Mom something.
The next day after I came home from school, Aaron and Jarom and I walked to the store. We only had two dollars and three quarters and a dime and four pennies. It wasn’t very much, but we thought we could get Mom something she’d like.
Well, there really wasn’t much in Brother Bob’s store for Mother’s Day, because he sells mostly food and things like that. We looked at the bubble gum, but Mom doesn’t like bubble gum very much. We looked at some boxes of candy because Dad sometimes buys it for her. She likes candy, but just one of those boxes of chocolates with a big bow on it costs lots more money than we had. There was a real good pocketknife inside a glass case, but it cost over ten dollars. There was a watch inside the case too. It was just a little one, not like the big one Dad wears. We figured that since it was such a little watch, we probably had enough money to buy it. But when we put our money on the counter, Brother Bob said we didn’t have quite enough.
We were going to go to the big store by the ice-cream place, but that was a long way away. You have to cross the highway to get there, so we decided not to go. Instead, we each bought a sucker and went home.
On the way home we decided that if we couldn’t buy something for Mom, we’d make something. I remembered that Mom once said she’d sure like a rocking chair to rock Jared in at night. An old rocking chair wouldn’t be very hard to make. We had wood and nails and tools and everything at home.
Every day after school Aaron and Jarom met me at the corner. Then we ran around to the backyard and worked on the rocking chair. Jarom didn’t work much; he just kind of watched us. He’d get tired and go into the house for his blanket, but he always came back and sat on a box and rubbed his blanket and sucked his thumb. We still liked to have him there because it was his present too.
We had a hard time trying to build Mom that rocking chair though. We’d seen Dad hammer and saw, but he had bigger muscles than Aaron and I. I scratched my hand with the saw, and Aaron got silvers in his hands trying to hold the boards still. And I hit my thumb, trying to hammer in a nail.
We worked every day till Saturday, but by Saturday we still didn’t have a rocking chair. We’d hammered some boards together, but they were rough and had crooked nails sticking out of them. It didn’t look like any rocking chair we’d ever seen. It looked more like a table. But Mom didn’t need a table; she needed a rocking chair.
It was hot. Jarom had his blanket and was lying down on a box, sucking his thumb and looking at our rocking chair. I was thinking, and Aaron was over by the grapevine hunting for something. Pretty soon he yelled, “Hey, Alma, come here! Look what I found!”
I threw my hammer down, and Jarom left his blanket and ran over to the grapevine with me. Under the branches, sitting on some crunchy leaves, was a big, fat horned toad. He was brown and had little bumps all over him.
I’d seen horned toads before, because Aaron likes to catch them. But this one was one of the best horned toads I’d ever seen. Aaron picked it up and tickled its tummy and rubbed it against his cheek so he could feel the bumps.
Aaron said, “I know, Alma! Let’s give Mom some horned toads! She said that she thinks they’re cute and that they’re funny to watch when they run. Let’s look for some more, and we’ll each give her a horned toad for Mother’s Day.”
There’s an empty lot behind our house that’s covered with weeds and rocks and other good places for horned toads to hide. Jarom went there with us, too, but he had to leave his blanket behind, because it would get weed stickers in it.
We hunted for a long time, and finally we found another horned toad. It was almost suppertime. We were about ready to give Mom just two horned toads, when suddenly Jarom saw a tiny one. I grabbed it. Now we each had a horned toad to give to Mom.
When we went into the house, we didn’t let anyone see the toads. I found an empty shoe box and put some rocks inside so the horned toads would think they were still outside. Then we wrapped the box in newspaper and punched some holes in the top very carefully.
The next day, after the family came home from church and Primary, Mom started fixing dinner. After my brothers and I helped her set the table, we went out to the garage and brought in our present. I put the box on Mom’s plate so she’d know we hadn’t forgotten about Mother’s Day. Aaron and Jarom and I were grinning as Mom tried to guess what was in the present. She was going to shake it, but we told her she’d better not because it might break. She kept trying to guess, but she couldn’t. Not even Dad could guess what our present was.
After family prayer and the blessing on the food, I told Mom to open our present. I knew we couldn’t eat until Mom had opened it.
She took the paper off really slow, and then she took the lid off the shoe box. Her eyes got really big, but she didn’t say anything, and we weren’t sure if she liked our horned toads. We didn’t know if she thought they were too little or not the right color. But then she got a great big smile on her face, and she looked at Aaron and Jarom and me. Her eyes were sparkling like they do sometimes when she’s real happy. We knew then that she was glad to get those three horned toads.
She got up and gave us each a great big kiss and said, “I’ll never forget this Mother’s Day. Horned toads are the best Mother’s Day surprise I’ve ever received!”
After we’d all had a good look at the horned toads, Dad said we should take them out to the garage for a while. But Mom said it would be OK to put them on the chair by the telephone if we wouldn’t bother them while we ate.
After dinner, Mom looked at her horned toads and said, “I don’t like to see toads closed up in an old shoe box. Why don’t you boys build them a house outside where they won’t feel sad and where we can go to visit them.”
The next day after kindergarten, Aaron and Jarom and I went out in the backyard by the grapevine. We’d seen lots of horned toads there, so we knew that that was one of their favorite spots. We found a shady place where there were lots of crunchy leaves. We got some rocks and put them in a little pile under the grapevines, and that was Mom’s horned-toad house. The horned toads really liked it. As soon as we let them out of the shoe box, they waddled as fast as they could into their little rock house.
Those horned toads were our very best Mother’s Day present. And Mom said one of her favorite times of the day was when she went out to the grapevine with Aaron and Jarom and me and watched her very own horned toads.

When my mission call came, I read the letter until I got to where it said ‘Birmingham.’ I thought, well, it’s going to be cold there in England. Then I read again and I saw that it said Alabama Birmingham Mission. I had to go find a map of the United States so I could see where I was going.”
That’s how Elder Terrence John Brooks of Perth, Australia, discovered he would be heading north to serve in the South.
“I got to Alabama in February 1984. So far I’ve served in Sylacauga, Florence, Bessemer, and now I’m in Montgomery.”
And in Montgomery a surprise was in store.
“When I got my mission call to Alabama, I laughed,” said Elder Graeme Thomas McKim of Adelaide, Australia. “It was the last place I was thinking of and there was sort of disbelief. But I was really happy. I thought it would be an interesting foreign country. My friends couldn’t believe it. I got heaps of Alabama jokes poured upon me in Southern accents. My mum was a little bit apprehensive; but she was just happy, as was the rest of my family, that I was going on a mission.
“My first assignment was in Troy for four months. Then came transfers.”
And, of course, Elder Brooks and Elder McKim ended up as companions. Now they make the rounds door-to-door in Montgomery, causing a few double takes when people hear their conversation.
“Most people think we’re English,” Elder McKim said.
“Someone told me I had a nice South Dakota accent,” Elder Brooks chimed in. “A man in Florence asked me if I could understand English better than I could speak it.”
The elders are quick to add, however, that they are in the South to preach the gospel, not to talk about their homeland.
“The fact that we are ‘foreign’ stirs a desire in people to speak to us,” Elder McKim said. “They want to know what we think about America. They want to know about Australia. They are curious about the way we speak and why we are here, even more so as we labor together. It’s the same with the members, too. We are the first Australians many of them have ever known.
“But laboring here in Montgomery with another Australian only makes a difference as far as the initial reaction,” Elder Brooks said. “It doesn’t make a great deal of difference as far as teaching the gospel is concerned.
“To me the most spiritual thing a person can do is to find, teach, and then to baptize someone, to watch them grow, to go through their adjustments and trials with them. To go through these trials and come out with a testimony of the gospel is the greatest thing that can happen.”
Elder McKim agreed. “I’ve had several spiritual experiences since coming on my mission, but the one that comes to mind happened in Troy. We’d been working all day, but we hadn’t been very successful. Then one woman invited us in. At first she was cool toward us, polite. But we talked to her and taught her a lesson and noticed that tears were coming to her eyes. The Spirit was very strong.
“At the end of the lesson, she told us that for weeks she had been depressed and that the night before, at her lowest ebb, she prayed that the Lord would send someone to help her. The next day, there we were! It was such a great experience for me because I had heard so many stories like that before in magazines like the New Era. You hear these stories, and you think it would never happen to you. But it did!”
Elder McKim, 19, was actually born in Glasgow, Scotland. “We moved to Australia when I was five. My parents are converts to the Church. Most of the children were born after my parents were sealed in the London Temple. My father was a stake patriarch in Glasgow. He was set apart by President Kimball, who was at the time a member of the Quorum of the Twelve.
“I was brought up in the Church, and when I was a little boy I knew I was going to go on a mission. But as the time grew near, I planned to put it off until the end of the college year. Then one night I just had this feeling that I had to go on my mission and I wasn’t to put it off. I talked to my bishop and put my papers in. And I’m glad I did. My mission has drastically changed my life and my ideals. Things which I thought were important are so trivial now. And things which I really didn’t think of before are now so important.”
Elder Brooks’s story is quite different.
“I am a convert to the Church of four and a half years, the only member in my family. I became interested in the Church through a girl I dated that was a Mormon. My testimony came slowly over a period of ten months. I really didn’t want it to be true because it meant I would need to change my life-style. But the more I was exposed to the Church the more convinced I became that it was true. The things that rang true were that there is a prophet on the earth today and that there is modern revelation. As a child I always wondered why the Bible stopped where it did and why we didn’t have someone like Moses on the earth.
“Since I was 23 when I joined the Church I thought I’d be too old to go on a mission. But I went to a Young Adult conference in Brisbane, and after talking with some friends there I was motivated to go. I worked as a civil servant before my mission, and I had saved enough money to support myself as a missionary.
“My mission has changed my life, too. I used to be shy, almost embarrassed to talk about the Church. That shyness has left me and I feel now that I can talk about it with anyone. When I told my parents I was going to go on a mission they were quite upset—they were concerned about my job. But when I received my call they were really happy for me. So in a period of about six weeks there was a real transition in my family’s attitudes. And now they are actually having a friendship with the missionaries at home. I don’t know if they’re being taught or not, but there was a time when they wouldn’t even let missionaries in the door.”
Both Elder Brooks and Elder McKim say they’ve had to adapt a little to life in the States. “The biggest adjustment is to cars being driven on the wrong side of the road!” Elder McKim said. “Several times my companions have saved my neck as I’ve gone to walk out in front of an oncoming car,” Elder Brooks agreed.
They’ve also had a few strange looks from fellow missionaries when they talk about Australian children eating fairy bread (bread and butter with candy sprinkles), or when they reminisce about hot summer Christmases celebrated with a barbecue at the beach.
“One preparation day we had an Australian day for missionaries in our zone. We invited them to an Australian party and tried to make it as authentic as possible, with food like fish and chips served on newspaper. It was especially fun for me and Elder Brooks, and the other missionaries seemed to enjoy themselves,” Elder McKim said.
In the early days of Church history, the gospel restored in New York and eventually headquartered in Utah sent missionaries from America to other lands around the globe. As the Church continues its worldwide growth, young men like Elder Brooks and Elder McKim will increasingly represent a new generation of missionaries, those who leave their homes to help share the gospel in a foreign land—America.

A couple of years ago, my bishop asked our ward to read the Book of Mormon. I did not want to do it because I thought it would be too hard. The next year I decided to try to read it before my birthday to prepare for my baptism. I bore my testimony in sacrament meeting about this goal, and my bishop asked the ward to do my goal with me. I’m already beginning to see a change in my life from reading the Book of Mormon.
Emma G., age 7, Florida

After Ron left me alone, I thought to myself, “If the Lord would tell my brother, then I’ll bet the Lord would tell me.” So I did what my brother did, reading and praying over every page of the Book of Mormon. Because I was still young, I didn’t understand a lot of the words, but it wasn’t long before I began to feel the Lord speak to me in my heart, telling me it was true. I read the whole book through and ended up with a strong testimony even at age 12. That really helped me through my youth and in preparation for a mission.
I have always been thankful for my good brother, who loved me enough to show me by example how to gain a testimony.

Mia Maid president Allison Wright and her classmates hand-made and delivered invitations to all the homes within the ward boundaries. Over 300 people attended, with approximately 100 being nonmember children and their parents. “It’s a great chance for us to associate with and get to know those we don’t usually meet through Church activities,” said Marianne Miner. “I was in charge of the punch and chips, and I got a big cauldron-looking pot, put dry ice in the punch to make it smoke, and asked one of my neighbors to dress up like a witch to serve it.”

When the First Presidency announced that a new temple would be built in Tuxtla Gutiérrez, México, Church members rejoiced. One young girl was so excited she told the news to almost everyone she knew.
“Temples are where dads and moms can be married for eternity!” she told them. “Temples are where families can be sealed together forever!”
Each time she passes the temple, she announces, “That’s where I’m going to be married someday.”
Seven-year-old Íngrid Fabiola Martínez Barredo knows something about temples. When she was five years old, she and her parents were sealed as an eternal family in the México City D.F. México Temple. The trip took 18 hours each way on a bus crowded with members from their ward and stake. Like many members in Tuxtla Gutiérrez, Íngrid is thankful now to have a temple just minutes away in her own city.
Even though the long journey to the temple was uncomfortable, Íngrid and the other Primary children accompanying their parents to the temple did their best to make it pleasant. “They sang their favorite hymns and songs on the way, such as ‘Count Your Many Blessings’ and ‘I Am a Child of God,’” says Íngrid’s dad, Javier. Several members who traveled on the bus thanked the children for helping make their journey more enjoyable.
Traveling a long distance wasn’t the only sacrifice Íngrid and her family made to get to the temple. Although her dad gave his employer plenty of notice when requesting time off from work, he lost his job because he left on the temple trip. However, after returning home he was able to get a better job.
While Íngrid was waiting to be sealed to her parents, she helped the temple nursery workers care for the younger children and babies. When it was time for her to leave, the workers said, “Oh, don’t take her! She helped us so much. She put the babies to sleep.”
A couple of years after they went to the temple, Íngrid’s mother, María Carmelita, gave birth to a baby boy. Later, Íngrid’s parents had a baby girl. “Luis Fernando and Mari Carmen are children of the covenant,” Íngrid says proudly. She explains to her nonmember relatives that since her family was sealed in the temple before her baby brother and sister were born, the babies are also members of their eternal family. Íngrid loves her brother and sister and helps her mother take care of them. “She often puts them to sleep by singing Primary songs to them,” says her mom.
Her dad says with a smile, “She tells us that when she grows up, she wants to be whatever she is thinking of at the time—a doctor, an artist, a teacher.”
“But mostly she wants to be a mother,” her mom adds. “Besides helping me with the babies, she holds her dolls and hugs them and sings to them. She has told me, ‘When I’m big, I’m going to get married. And I’m going to study a lot so my children don’t lack anything.’”
Íngrid enjoys drawing pictures of animals, running races, playing ball, and riding her bicycle. She especially loves to dress up in costumes and perform folk dances.
Her bishop, Juan José Albores Gallegos, of the Las Lomas Ward, Tuxtla Gutiérrez México Stake, says Íngrid participates with great energy in Primary and in ward activities. Bishop Albores especially appreciates the care Íngrid gives younger Primary children. “She loves them and gives them her time and attention,” he says. “She plays and sings songs with them.”
Never at a loss for words, Íngrid has told her nonmember friends and relatives about the Church and has invited several of them to attend. Although none of them have joined the Church yet, she isn’t discouraged.
“Wherever we go,” her dad says, “she tells people about the Church.”
For example, when her family was invited to a picnic one Sunday, Íngrid said, “No, we can’t go on the picnic because it’s Sunday, and we are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” When someone offers her a drink that is not in keeping with Church standards, she says, “No, we can’t drink it.”
“Íngrid has learned a lot in Primary and in our family home evenings,” her mother says. “She is often the one to remind us to say our prayers before going to bed. ‘Did you say your prayers, Papi, Mami?’ she will ask. And at mealtime, she will say, ‘Let’s bless the food before eating.’ She is teaching us all the time.”
“On fast Sunday, Íngrid is the first in our family to get up and bear her testimony in sacrament meeting, and she bears her testimony like an adult,” says her dad. “Sometimes she’ll ask me, ‘Are you going to bear your testimony today?’ I’ll usually tell her I’m not sure, because it’s hard for me to speak in public. And she’ll tease me by saying, ‘If you don’t, I’ll call you from the pulpit to come up and do it.’ I’ll say, ‘Don’t you dare!’ She smiles happily if I do go up.”
Íngrid’s parents are thankful for her strength and example. “She makes sure we obey the commandments,” her dad says. “Maybe she understands the gospel better than I do!”