Gospel Story Finder

In the Philippines, there are science high schools that have a strong focus on academics. Students in these schools take more subjects, spend more time in class, and have a lot of homework. This is the kind of environment I was in as a young woman.
I gave up many activities upon entering high school because I knew I would be spending so much time studying. I almost never attended Church activities and would occasionally miss church on Sundays because of school events. I also struggled to attend seminary.
One Saturday my seminary teacher told us how busy she was in her high school days. Despite her schedule, she managed to do her seminary assignments and study scripture mastery at the library. I decided to take up her challenge to do the same. I carried my scripture mastery cards with me all the time and reviewed them during my free time. I prayed for help to balance my seminary study with the demands of school. I memorized scriptures while commuting to school. I took the cards out while I chatted with my friends. During breaks and lunchtime, my friends enjoyed quizzing me on the mastery cards. And then some of them started bringing their scriptures and talking about activities at their churches. I felt the change in atmosphere around me, and school felt lighter and better.
My three younger sisters followed my lead, and now my family reaps the blessings of the scriptures in our home. Learning my scripture mastery verses was a very simple act, but more important than the memorized words, I learned the difference the scriptures could make in me and the people around me. I know that whatever challenge or trial we face, we will always find strength and guidance in the words of our loving Savior.

Some time ago I read the following Associated Press dispatch in the newspaper. An elderly man had shared, from early manhood, a one-room cabin near Canisteo, New York, with his brother. At the funeral for his brother, he disclosed that following a quarrel in their young manhood, they had divided the room in half with a chalk line, and neither had crossed the line or spoken a word to the other since that day—62 years before. What a powerful and destructive hidden wedge.

During the summer between my sophomore and junior years of high school, I attended a leadership camp along with a number of other high school students across the state. After a day of classes and workshops, the next activity was to go to the town’s new wave pool. It was a hot day, so the pool was crowded.
I had taken swimming lessons for a number of years and was a pretty strong swimmer, so when the waves stopped, I decided to swim down in the deep end of the pool to check out where the waves originated. Everything was fine until the buzzer sounded, indicating that the waves were going to start. I pushed off from the side to start swimming back toward the more shallow water when I suddenly felt myself being pulled under. I realized quickly that the waves were made as water was pulled from the bottom of the pool and then pushed out at the top. As the machine pulled water in, I got pulled under the surface. Then, as the machine pushed the water out, I would be pushed to the surface, where I could get a little breath and start to call out for help. Then I would again get pulled under.
After this happened a few times, I felt myself getting weaker from not getting enough air. No matter how hard I tried, I was not strong enough to get out of this cycle. Then, as a wave pushed me back up, I felt an arm go around me, and a big man pulled me over to safety. I was so weak I could hardly pull myself out of the pool. I was gasping for breath. The man who saved me asked if I was all right, and then he swam away and has probably never thought of the incident since. I don’t know this man’s name, but he literally saved my life. He did for me what I could not do for myself.
I have reflected on this incident often and have learned many lessons from it.

Zavannah Vaaulu and Keri Robinson are walking from class. They’re also in the familiar yellow and blue colors of the Church College’s uniforms. When you begin talking to Zavannah and Keri, you notice right away that their friendship resembles Justina and Melinda’s. The fact all four are friends isn’t surprising.
Although Zavannah and Keri aren’t busy growing bacteria, Zavannah, at 14, and Keri, at 15, are also top netball players and members of the Church College’s intermediate school championship team. They take many of the same classes together, they both play the saxophone, and they, too, are in the Apia Fifth Ward. And if you see Keri, you can usually find Zavannah nearby. Keri is usually the one laughing, while Zavannah tends to be a little more serious. While Zavannah is a lifelong Church member, Keri was baptized less than a year ago.
“Keri’s also the better saxophone player,” Zavannah says.
“Yeah, but Zavannah is better at tennis,” says Keri.
The words volley back and forth until Keri talks about her baptism last August. Now it’s her turn to get serious as she talks about Zavannah’s friendship and influence.
“Zavannah kept bugging me to come to church,” Keri says, “She always helped me come to church. She always invited me to Church activities. She wanted me to see how fun it would be. It really has been.”
When asked about her role in helping Keri join the Church, Zavannah starts by saying, “I do feel a certain responsibility.” Then Keri finishes Zavannah’s sentence with “to set an example for Keri.”
They look at each other and start laughing. They spend so much time together that they seem to know what the other is thinking. As they both sit there, Zavannah makes sure Keri knows a little bit more of what she’s thinking.
“I just want [Keri] to be happy the way I am because of the Church. I want her to know the true meaning of happiness is in the gospel, something I’ve come to learn and appreciate.”
Zavannah’s voice trails off, and it suddenly gets very quiet.
It’s been five days since you first met Justina, Melinda, Zavannah, and Keri. Here’s what you know: They’re like girls anywhere in the world. They love to laugh, talk about boys, eat pizza, and play sports.
But when it comes to these four young women, this is what you really know. They’re devoted friends and very serious about the gospel. They help each other and want to see each other’s testimonies grow.
“Some days I have doubts about the Church, and then I look at Melinda and I see her and see how happy she is. It makes me want to be like her,” says Keri.
“And I guess I’ve been pretty lucky because Tina has been like an older sister to me. Melinda and Tina have been some of the best friends I’ve ever had. They give me advice, and just seeing what they do is very helpful,” explains Zavannah.
It’s quiet again, and this time you’re touched by the things they say. You’ve learned a lot about friendships and about them.
Later that day you’re standing on the grounds of the Church College of Western Samoa. It’s bright and sunny in Apia. A warm breeze is blowing off the ocean, and another day of school is over. Students are all going in different directions. But four girls are walking together, and you know why.

As time passed and we both matured, we started to talk to each other about school, teachers, friends, and all the other things that concerned us. Tommy and I actually became friends. In high school, Tommy was a senior when I was a sophomore, and it was nice to receive advice from an experienced student. We were both in the marching band, and even though we had our own friends, Tommy was always willing to talk to me or help me in any way. He had developed a real sense of humor, and I enjoyed spending time with him.
I remember nights when we would be the only ones up, doing our homework, and Tommy would serve us both some ice cream. We would talk late into the night. Tommy was a wonderful example to me, and I was always learning something from him. He chose good friends, and I never saw him hesitate to choose the right. I especially respected him for how well he treated my parents. Whenever we came home from school, Tommy would go into the kitchen to get something to eat, and we would sit down and chat with Mama about the day. Somehow, the conversation always drifted to things deeper than school. I will always cherish those times.

In February 1959, Elder Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles visited Chile and stressed the need for developing local leadership. One of the first local leaders was Carlos Cifuentes, who was a counselor to the mission president, Robert Burton. Elder Julio Jaramillo, who later became an Area Seventy and a temple president, related this experience: “I received my first impression of Brother Cifuentes when I was invited to a priesthood meeting after my baptism. When the meeting began, he came up to the pulpit and the only thing I saw was his dirty, black fingernails. I thought, ‘How can this man be conducting a meeting alongside the mission president if he has dirty hands?’ That was until he began to speak and I forgot everything else when I felt his spirit. With simple words he delivered profound concepts to us. He was a heavy machinery mechanic and on Saturdays he worked late, then would clean his hands, but with the few means available at his shop was unable to remove all the grease. Then and there I learned to not judge people by appearances but rather to value them for what they really are.”4

“Hey, Sofía! Wanna go to the Valentine’s Day dance with me?”
Sofía felt her cheeks turn red. She didn’t know what to say. Kyle Thornton was one of the cutest and nicest boys in the seventh grade, and here he was asking Sofía to the dance! Sofía knew she shouldn’t date until she was 16, but part of her really wanted to go. It would be so much fun! And besides, the dance was at school, so meeting Kyle there wouldn’t exactly be a real date. …
But Sofía didn’t feel super comfortable with the idea.
“Um … can I tell you tomorrow?” she asked.
“Sure, no problem.” Kyle smiled and walked to class.
After school, Sofía’s best friend, Ashley, ran up to her. “I heard Kyle asked you to the dance!” she said. “That’s so great!”
Sofía shrugged.
“You’re going, aren’t you?” Ashley asked.
“Well, my family is going to make cookies and take them to a care center that day,” Sofía said. “I’m probably going to go with them.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Ashley said. “You can do something with your family any day. This is important, especially since Kyle asked you!”
Sofía knew lots of girls liked Kyle. What would they think if she said no? But how could she tell Ashley she couldn’t date yet?
“I gotta go,” Sofía said. “Mom needs me home right away to watch the twins.”
“OK,” said Ashley. “Let me know what you decide.”
When Sofía got home, Mom gave her a quick hug before hurrying out the door to go visiting teaching. Sofía and her eight-year-old twin brothers, Mateo and Leo, spent the time building block towers and cities.
As she played with her brothers, Sofía thought about the dance. All of her friends were going. She thought about Kyle and smiled. It would be fun being at a dance with him. But she knew what the prophets had said—kids shouldn’t date before turning 16. She wanted to be obedient. As fun as the dance might be, Sofía knew what she had to do.
At school the next day, Sofía saw Kyle in the hallway. She took a deep breath and walked up to him. She had practiced what to say all morning.
“Thank you for asking me to go to the dance with you,” she said. “But I can’t go.”
“Why not?” Kyle asked, his smile fading.
“I’m not going to date until I’m 16,” Sofía said. “But we can still be friends.”
Kyle’s shoulders slumped. “OK. I guess I understand.”
They said goodbye, and Sofía walked to class. She hated seeing Kyle so sad. But she also felt OK about her decision.
On Friday after school, instead of picking out an outfit and doing her hair for the dance, Sofía frosted heart-shaped cookies with Mom and Dad and her brothers. Instead of going to the school gym, Sofía went to a care center to pass out the cookies.
In the main room at the center, Sofía noticed a piano in the corner. She knew several Primary songs by heart, so she asked her family to sing along while she played. People sitting nearby clapped at the end of each song. When she and her family finished singing “A Child’s Prayer,” Sofía saw that several people had tears in their eyes.
“Thank you!” one lady said. “That was even better than the cookies! Will you come back?”
Sofía smiled. “Of course!” Maybe she could even invite her friends and Kyle next time.

When it was time to come up with some ideas for a song for the 2017 Mutual Theme album, I immediately knew what I wanted to write about: I basically gave up seeing my best friend so that I could focus on my mission. I wanted to write about how even though those were some sad, dark days, I knew it was what I was supposed to be doing.
I still had another decision to make. My first year of college was hard because pretty much all of my high school friends had already left on their missions. But the girl I’d known my senior year actually came to BYU too, and she and I became even closer. We started hanging out all the time. Even though I didn’t want to admit it, I could tell—we were slowing becoming boyfriend and girlfriend.
Part of the way through the semester, I started getting a prompting, “You’ve got to stop hanging out so much with this friend.” I knew a mission was on the horizon, and I could tell that because we were hanging out all the time, I wasn’t focusing on preparing for my mission. Actually, this was making it harder for me to go.
It was a really hard prompting to get, because she was my best friend—and one of my only friends. I prayed constantly to know if it was the Lord’s will, even telling Heavenly Father, “This is going to be really hard for me.”
One day I went to the temple and asked Him, and I just felt that that was what I needed to do. So I decided I needed to follow the Lord’s will. I finally talked with her about it, and she understood that I needed to focus on my mission. Still, it was a really difficult, emotional experience.
Over the next few days, I felt so much strength and peace from Heavenly Father. I was able to focus on my mission a lot more and started feeling myself progress spiritually much faster than I had before. Scriptures started standing out to me during my personal scripture study—like Isaiah 3:10, which says that the righteous will “eat the fruit of their doings,” which means that if you do the right things, you will reap the rewards. Once again, my testimony of following the Lord’s will was strengthened.

When I attended stake conference that morning in March 1993, I had no idea how much my life—and the lives of my ancestors—would be affected.
Along with other members of the Brazil Santos Stake, I was enjoying the conference. Then, near the end of the meeting, a sister’s talk especially stirred something within me. She spoke about family history work.
My friend, Silmara Peres, was also strongly moved by the Spirit. At the end of the meeting, we approached one of the people responsible for family history work in our stake and volunteered to help with the family records extraction program.
The following Tuesday, the two of us went to the stake building to begin our new assignment. After we received our training, we began the work of extracting names and dates from microfilmed records so that the saving ordinances of the gospel could be performed in the temple for the people listed in the records.
Someone else was there working on a roll of microfilm. He graciously let us continue the roll he was working on, so that we could get started immediately.
We had just begun—we had extracted only two names—when I found myself reading the names of my great-grandparents! At first I was doubtful. Could this be a coincidence? We asked the supervisor what city these microfilmed records had come from. Noticing our excitement, she returned the microfilm to the beginning, where it showed the name of the town: Itirapina.
Silmara and I looked at each other in amazement. During a recent vacation with our bishop and his family, we had visited Itirapina. I had wanted to see the town because it was the place my father had come from. Now, as we looked at the names and dates on the microfilm, we knew that we really had found my ancestors! I was overcome with emotion, gratitude, and testimony. Now temple work could be done for them.
Since then, Silmara and I have continued to make this work a part of our lives, and our testimonies have increased. Every week we go to the stake building and give this service. As we extract names from the microfilms, we know that we are serving the Lord, for now these people can also be baptized and receive temple ordinances.
We are finding that this is not only a service—it is a blessing.

Every year in Australia, an endurance race that goes from Sydney to Melbourne is held. This race is 543.7 miles long and takes world-class athletes five full days to complete. It is known as the world's most grueling ultra-marathon. And the athletes who enter are mostly young, less than 30 years of age, highly trained and sponsored by large companies.

Let me share with you the story of a very unlikely competitor named Cliff Young, who at 61 years of age showed up at the start of this race wearing his overalls and work boots. Everyone assumed he was a spectator, but when he picked up his number and joined the other competitors, everyone was shocked. When he was interviewed by the press, they told him in effect that he was crazy to attempt this and that he should not even start the race. They told him there was no way he could ever finish. To which Cliff replied: "Yes I can. See, I grew up on a farm where we couldn't afford horses or tractors, and the whole time I was growing up, whenever the storms would roll in, I'd have to go out and round up the sheep. We had 2,000 sheep on 2,000 acres. Sometimes I would have to run those sheep for two or three days. It took a long time, but I'd always catch them. I believe I can run this race."[9]

The professionals who had run this race knew what it took and they had calculated that in order to finish in five days, a person had to run for 18 hours straight and then sleep for six hours. Everyone knew this fact. Everyone, that is, except for Cliff Young!

When the race started, Cliff was left in the dust. He wasn't flashy, he wasn't sponsored, and he wasn't fast. In fact he didn't even run properly-he shuffled! So on the second day of the race, Cliff was forgotten. But to everyone's surprise, he was still in the race. He had jogged all night long! And not only that, but he had determined to run for the next five days straight to the finish line without sleeping at all. No one believed that this could be done-no one that is, except Cliff.

"Cliff kept running. Each night he came a little closer to the leading pack. By the final night, he had surpassed all of the young, world-class athletes. He was the first competitor to cross the finish line and he set a new course record...Today, the 'Young-shuffle' has been adopted by ultra-marathon runners because it is considered more energy-efficient. At least three champions of the Sydney to Melbourne race have used the shuffle to win the race. Furthermore, during the Sydney to Melbourne race now, modern competitors do not sleep. Winning the race requires runners to go all night as well as all day, just like Cliff Young."[10]

What does this story teach us? It isn't that we shouldn't sleep; rather, it teaches us that we can change the world! We can do hard things. We can endure. We must prepare and all our life is preparation. Believe in yourself! Don't give up. Endure! You have the power to achieve anything you set your mind to.

Rigas Pofantis and Nicholas Malavetis had been looking for religious truths for three years when they happened upon a newspaper article in 1898 that discussed Mormonism. They were intrigued and wrote to Church headquarters to learn more. Church leaders dispatched the president of the Turkish Mission to visit and teach the pair in Greece. In 1903 Nicholas Malavetis died, but two years later, Rigas Pofantis again wrote to Church headquarters and asked to be baptized. Church leaders again sent the Turkish Mission president, who baptized Brother Pofantis and five others, including Nicholas Malavetis’s widow.

It’s about 9:45 Sunday morning in Solo, 585 kilometers southeast of Indonesia’s capital city of Djakarta. Brother Suwarno leaves his home and gets on his bicycle. Three of his seven children get on the bicycle with him. Three other children balance on another bicycle pedaled by big brother Andi. They are going to Sunday School. After he has taught the Gospel Doctrine class, Brother Suwarno will attend priesthood meeting for ten minutes or so and then return home in time to bicycle his wife to sacrament meeting.

My bedroom is like many other teenage boys’ rooms. Yes, there are school books piled up to the ceiling. And yes, there are posters all over the walls. But next to these posters is a picture of the Savior. Now I have been in my room when friends have looked at that picture and asked, “So what does Jesus have to do with all of this?” Of course, I know why that picture is there.
It all stems from a talk Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve gave at general conference.
Elder Scott counseled us to do three things: (1) place Christ at the center of your life, (2) realize that happiness comes from what you are, not what you have, and (3) always stay morally clean. These three points, if applied, can form the basis of the strength which we need to be strong in a world such as the one we live in.
The first point, about placing Christ at the center of our lives, is the reason I have that picture of Christ in my bedroom. When I awake in the morning, I look at that picture. Because of my testimony of the Savior I consciously make a decision to honor his name during the day. Of course when I make mistakes, I look at that picture and wonder how I could have let him down.
If we do place the Savior at the center of our lives we certainly will be different to those around us. We will, as the scriptures say, be a “peculiar people” (Deut. 14:2).
Take my name, for example. I love the name Ronan because it’s unusual. But I hope I’m peculiar, not because of my name, but because I’m a representative of Jesus Christ and his gospel. I don’t think many of us are as peculiar as we need to be.
The second suggestion is that we should realize that happiness comes from what we are, not what we have. I am as guilty as anyone of the “I want” syndrome. I know I must try to ignore my peers and seek only to please God. I need to recognize the things I do have: my testimony, my family, and the many other blessings I enjoy.
The third item is to stay morally clean. In a broad sense, this means to be moral, to be righteous, and to be true. Of course, more specifically, it means to obey the laws of chastity. I was once invited to a party which I knew would be morally suspect. At first I rationalized, thinking I would be strong enough to resist whatever temptations might be around me. Fortunately, I decided not to go. I later learned about the alcohol that was consumed and the moral iniquities that took place there. I realized that was not the kind of place for a Latter-day Saint to be. If I had gone to that party, I could in no way have looked at that picture of the Savior in my room and felt at ease.
I’m glad for that picture and I know I’m going to try my best to always place the Savior at the center of my life.

Let me tell you one student’s story. In 1997 Alicia’s family moved to Jerusalem as a result of her father’s assignment to teach at the BYU Jerusalem Center for Near Eastern Studies. While there she had the opportunity to travel to Jordan and attend church meetings with the members of the Amman Branch. She was frustrated that she could not speak with them and vowed that she would learn Arabic. True to her word, she enrolled in Arabic 101 the first semester of her freshman year here.

Like many students Alicia found Arabic challenging, but she pushed on, looking forward to returning to Jerusalem in January of 2001 to participate in our winter/spring intensive Arabic program. Less than three months before our scheduled departure, violence broke out in Jerusalem and quickly spun out of control. No students have been sent to Jerusalem since. As a result of remarkable prior events, however, our students ended up spending winter semester in Syria, a land where few Americans go.

Once in Damascus, the students applied themselves to learning Arabic. With the help of excellent teachers and good friends they gradually acquired facility in the language. Syrians are particularly proud of their language and were deeply impressed to see Americans striving to learn it. Thousands, if not millions, came to know about our students, who were regularly featured on radio and TV and in newspapers. Everywhere the students went, people recognized them.

All of the students spent time serving in the community. Of one such experience Alicia wrote in her journal:

This morning before classes we did service at the handicapped school again. As we entered the gates, as with all other mornings, about 20 or so little Down syndrome kids raced toward us with huge smiles and outstretched arms. We began the routine of the morning with exercises and the national anthem of Syria and then went off to class. As we filed away to classes I was pulled away by a messenger who had been sent to tell me that the director of the school wanted to see me. I followed her to a room where the director and other administrators were anxiously waiting. . . . The principal informed me that their school was to participate in a Mother’s Day program where numerous government officials would be in attendance. He asked if I knew any children’s songs about mothers that the children could perform. . . . All that I had to draw from were the Primary songs of the Church that I had learned and sung to my mother as a child.

“Yes, I know some Mother’s Day songs,” I replied.

“Good. Will you sing one for us?” he asked.

I was startled. They all sat quietly and waited for the impromptu performance. I motioned to my colleague across the hall to come join me. Then she and I stood and sang. With no practice or prior notice we sang our hearts out. And as we did so, I felt certain that our voices were amplified by the power of heaven. We sang with the voices of angels resonating through the stone-arched walkways of this little school. A spirit of peace descended upon all present. At the close of our performance the director complimented us and asked if we would teach our songs to the children to perform on Mother’s Day. We accepted and went to work. For months we practiced, and finally the day of performance arrived.

As we waited for our turn to perform, we watched the performance of other schools. Instead of the sweet love-filled holiday I had expected, this had played out instead to be a political rally. Mothers and children, infuriated by their separation from one another by the Israeli occupation of the Golan, chanted out calls of war and pledges to reclaim what had been taken from them.

The children walked on stage with guns, flags, and signs of protest. The listening crowd cheered. I began to panic, realizing that it was almost our turn to perform. What we had to offer was such a contrast to what had been presented thus far. Yet there was nothing to do but to simply go on and pray that all would go well. . . . We stood on stage and . . . thanked God in heaven for sending us to our dear mothers. We sang of goodness, light, and peace. . . . A silence fell on the crowd, and for a brief moment the anguish and hate were lifted.

All in attendance felt of the peace that emanated from our simple Primary songs. Though it was just a Mother’s Day program, for me it was a grand experience. During this performance I came to understand a portion of the pain that these Syrians had experienced, and through our songs we offered to them the healing balm of the Spirit and peace. A bridge of understanding had been built between us, and our message to each other was burned into each others’ hearts.

In April our group spent a few days visiting Lebanon. We met with the Beirut Branch for church meetings. The room that serves as the chapel was filled to overflowing. The students were thrilled to hear (and understand!) talks given in Arabic and to participate in Sunday School. In a combined priesthood/Relief Society meeting, Nabil Assouad, the branch president, spoke for a few minutes and then turned the time over to the students to share their testimonies. One after another they rose and bore testimony. The Spirit was powerfully present. Alicia spoke of how she had prayed in her first visit to the Amman branch that she would be able to learn Arabic and participate in the meetings. She wept as she thanked God.

After the meetings and after some delicious food provided by the members, students and members got to know each other better. Both the Lebanese Saints and the students were hungry for each other’s company, the Beirut Branch being small and the students having had little or no contact with other members of the Church. The students had also missed having access to a piano, so one student soon began playing hymns and Primary songs. A number of students began to sing along. Other students and local members pulled up chairs to listen. Later that day I wrote in my journal, “I was very touched at the sight. Here we were, in Beirut, symbol [for the West] of all that’s gone wrong in the region, but we were united in love and peace, praising God.”

We returned to Damascus to participate in a symposium on Islamic philosophy jointly sponsored by Damascus University and BYU. Syrian professors, students, dignitaries, and media representatives packed the large room and stood in the hall as President Bateman emphasized the common values and the deep faith in God that the Syrian people and the Latter-day Saints share. Dr. Mouaffak Daaboul, academic vice president of the University of Damascus, opened the conference by expressing his admiration for BYU and for the Church and its members, recounting personal details of his visit to Utah to attend the Conference on the Family. He reflected on memories of a family home evening here that, left him deeply touched. He concluded his talk by expressing his love for the BYU students and then reading from letters that they had written in Arabic to the president of Syria about their experiences.

One student had written, “What surprised me was the friendliness of the Syrians—in my view the Syrians are the gentlest nation I have ever met. Syrians always have the time to sit and talk with us. People are the most important thing in their lives.” Dr. Daaboul concluded his remarks by holding the students up as an ideal for all to emulate in order to build bridges of understanding between the peoples of the world.

A few days later the students bid farewell to Syria, some to return to the U.S. and others to continue on for additional study in Jordan, Egypt, Morocco, and Spain. In each of the three branches of the Church in Jordan the students presented special programs. Returning to Amman meant that Alicia had come full circle and was finally able to communicate with the Saints there. Members and their friends thrilled to mingle with young American members who spoke their language and valued their culture. One of the senior missionaries serving there told me that the students accomplished more in a few days than he would in 18 months. We went on to similar experiences with the Saints in Cairo. Many of the students commented that these opportunities to strengthen Arab members of the Church were the high point of their Study Abroad experience.

Our students returned home just two months before the tragic events of September 11. I am convinced that they were sent to Damascus and other places by a loving Father in Heaven who knows all things. They softened many hearts, and their hearts were filled with love and understanding. Individuals can make a critical difference in the course of history. I believe that the world is a better place and that it will be a better place because of what these students and others have done, what they are doing, and what they will yet do. Many of them are or will be in positions of responsibility that will allow them to be a force for good, for peace, for understanding. They will likely make an even greater contribution through their children.

Weeks after her return to the U.S., Alicia left to serve in the Singapore Mission, from which she returned in January. She recently wrote me:

For the first year of my mission I served among the Muslim people in countries ruled by Islamic governments. Although we were not generally permitted to teach Muslims, there were numerous occasions where I had opportunities to build bridges. . . . I attended several Islamic conferences and was able to speak with the conference participants (often in Arabic) and tell them of my experiences in Jerusalem, Syria, and other places. . . . They were interested in our Study Abroad program. They were interested in my love for the Muslim people and expressed a desire for future programs to their countries so that students will likewise come to understand and love them as I do the people of Syria. I was daunted by the fact that I would be the sole representative there. However, I was comforted by remembering that the Lord had prepared me through experiences such as the Islamic Translation Series Conference in Damascus, where I, with the other students, was able to represent our student program and answer questions that I would later be asked again as I stood on my own in Malaysia. I have no doubt that those experiences were in the plan of the Lord and that He prepared me for them.

Every month it was the same. It had been that way as far back as I could remember, so by the time I was a deacon I knew the drill—on fast Sunday, Brother Andersen got the microphone first.
As soon as the bishopric member finished speaking, and before even the quickest deacon could get there with a microphone, Brother Andersen would stand up in place and start speaking in his heavy Danish accent (“Brudders and Sisters, …”) and then give his testimony of a particular gospel principle. You could rely on it like the rising of the sun, the changing of the seasons, death, taxes, and a mother’s love.
I don’t recall that Brother Andersen ever took all that long. He simply spoke about Jesus Christ, Joseph Smith, faith, the scriptures—something different every time. And you could tell he put some thought into it.
I once heard some people wonder why Brother Andersen insisted on being first. I wondered myself. Only some time later did I hear a story about him that made me see his monthly testimonies in a different light.
When Brother Andersen was a young man, World War II started and Nazi-controlled Germany invaded Denmark. Like many, he was afraid for his future. He prayed to Heavenly Father for help in surviving so that he might leave Europe and come to the United States. He promised Heavenly Father that if He would help him through this ordeal, he would bear witness of Him and His Son and of the restored gospel at every opportunity.
He eventually made it, and his monthly testimony was one way he felt he could keep his promise. Now, of course we’re not expected to bear testimony in sacrament meeting every month, but this example made me wonder how I kept my baptismal promise to “stand as [a witness] of God at all times and in all things, and in all places” (Mosiah 18:9).

I was told once of a young man who for many years was more or less the brunt of every joke in his school. He had some disadvantages, and it was easy for his peers to tease him. Later in his life he moved away from his community. He eventually joined the army and had some successful experiences there in getting an education and generally stepping away from his past. Above all, as many in the military do, he discovered the beauty and majesty of the Church and became very active and happy in it.

Then, after several years, he came back to the town of his youth. Most of his generation had moved on, but not all. Apparently when he returned quite successful and quite reborn, the same old mind-set that had existed before was still there, waiting for his return. To the people in his hometown he was still just old “so and so”—you remember the guy who had the problem, that idiosyncrasy, this quirky nature, and did such and such and such and such. And wasn’t it all just hilarious?

Well, you know what happened. Little by little this man’s Pauline effort to leave that which was behind and grasp the prize that God had laid before him was gradually diminished until he died about the way he had lived in his youth. He came full circle: again inactive and unhappy and the brunt of a new generation of jokes. Yet he had had that one bright, beautiful midlife moment when he had been able to rise above his past and truly see who he was and what he could become. Too bad, too sad, that he was again to be surrounded by a whole batch of Lot’s wives, those who thought his past was more interesting than his future. Yes, they managed to rip out of his grasp that for which Christ had grasped him. And he died even more sadly than Miniver Cheevy, though as far as I know the story, through absolutely no fault of his own.

At first glance, it looks like a rainbow is running wild. It’s twisting and turning and flowing all over a lush green hillside, in seemingly random motion.
But take a closer look, and you’ll see that the rainbow is made up of hundreds of girls in brightly colored T-shirts. They’ve come to this campground near Richmond, Virginia, for a three-day mother-daughter gathering, and each stake has been assigned certain colored T-shirts that correspond with each of the Young Women values.
The motion of the rainbow is actually being orchestrated by a small airplane flying overhead. It’s strafing the girls with packets of candy, and they follow its erratic flight over the hillside in hopes of catching extra sweets for their mothers and friends.
The theme of the encampment is “A More Excellent Way,” and all the activities, meetings, and programs focus on how living the Young Women values can help make lives better.
Included are songs, dances, talks, cheers, and even a rap by “Run LDS” that stresses the Young Women values.
But nowhere are those values more apparent than in the lives of the girls themselves. They are the values personified, each adding her own unique color to the rainbow that could only be formed when nearly 1,000 LDS women collect in one place.
Most doctors would be stunned to see Maria Turman at the encampment. As a matter of fact, they would be surprised to see her alive and smiling at all. Just a few short weeks ago, they were sure she was dying of brain cancer.
“I could barely stand the thought of what she would have to endure through whatever time she had left,” said her mother. “So we went home and called everyone we knew and asked them to pray for her. People of every faith joined us in prayer, and her name was in many of the temples.”
People fasted for her. People prayed for her. And they supported her in other ways too—like those who stood by her in the hospital, and the friend who told her that if she had to shave off her beautiful hair, he would shave his head too and, who knows, maybe they’d start a fad.
After a grueling two weeks of treatment and testing, her doctor came to her in total shock. “There’s been a miracle,” he said. “This girl does not have brain cancer. She does have another disease, but it is not fatal.”
Through all this Maria and everyone involved developed an incredible amount of faith—faith in the power of prayer, faith in the power of the priesthood from which blessings came that said she would be restored, and faith in the power and love of Heavenly Father.
Maria adds a sparkling, pure white to the rainbow.
Things don’t always go perfectly for everyone. All prayers aren’t always answered in the way we expect. Such was the case for one Laurel who would have given anything to have her non-LDS mother at the encampment with her.
“I prayed all summer long that my mom would share this weekend with me,” she said. “She didn’t. I cried, and I felt pretty down. I saw all the love between the mothers and daughters here, and I wished I could have that too. I have a friend here who was in the same position, so we decided to kneel down, just the two of us, and pray.
“I’ve never felt the Spirit so strong in all my life,” she continued. “I knew that Heavenly Father was right there with me. I knew that I’m his daughter and that I’m loved by him.”
Her mother did not attend the encampment with her, but she was able to learn about the love of another Parent. Knowing of that love and of her own divine nature will sustain her through trials for the rest of her life, and enables her to add a magnificent blue to the rainbow.
The women in the Perkins family were sorely missed back home. Their men were sitting silent in their plantation house at the end of a long, dirt road. The family plays bluegrass music together, but Susan, who plays the piano and upright bass, wasn’t around.
Lynda, the mother, who had never been separated from her husband except to give birth to a child, wasn’t there either. And Stacey, who adds the smile and sparkle, was also absent.
With the fuss the men put up about their leaving, there was no doubt in the women’s minds about their individual worth.
But they knew they needed to learn more about their lives as daughters of a Heavenly Father who loves them.
So off they went to the encampment, where they add their vibrant red to the rainbow.
Knowledge made the difference in Denver Mendiola’s life—knowledge of the English language, which she learned only two years ago, and, most important, knowledge of the truthfulness of the gospel.
Twelve-year-old Denver has not had an easy life. She was born in the Philippines, and her family was introduced to the gospel by missionaries tracting there. When Denver was ten, her mother was shot and killed, and her family divided. Denver came to the U.S. to live with her sister.
But Denver is not bitter. In fact, she was one of the happiest, most energetic girls at the encampment. Even when a minor accident caused her to need stitches, she was smiling and had a ready laugh. She’ll tell you it was because the doctor who sewed her up was gorgeous, but her positive attitude goes deeper than that. “I know that I’ll see my mother again, and that makes me happy,” she says. “I love being Mormon, and I know that the Church is true.”
That knowledge gives Denver a merry green to add to the rainbow.
It’s a critical time for Leah Guzman. The decisions she’s making now will affect her forever.
For most of her life, Leah attended her father’s church. But recently, since her parents split up, she’s been going to church with her mother at the Virginia Beach Third Ward. Although she’d attended LDS meetings when she was younger, it’s still a bit new to her, and she’s in the middle of deciding just how important the Church will be in her life.
The decision to come to the encampment was a big one for her, and she’s happy she made it. “I’m glad I came,” Leah said. “At the other church they had carnivals once a year and a church fair, but nothing like this, where you really get to know each other and learn things. I’ve decided to start coming to this church all the time. It’s different and I like it.”
Leah has many other important decisions ahead, but the one she’s already made adds a beautiful, bright orange to the rainbow.
Shanon Graber of Virginia Beach is the type of person who dives right into things with energy and enthusiasm. That’s why she was so successful with the fund-raising projects the youth in her ward sponsored all year long.
They did pizza sales and Valentine cookie sales and doughnut sales and garage sales. The girls in the ward needed money for girls’ camp and youth conference, as well as the mother-daughter encampment, and it was taking an awful lot of work.
But Shanon shined. She put her shoulder and her heart to it and ended up making more than enough to cover her expenses. So what did she do with the excess? “Sister Murdock?” she asked her adviser, “do any of the other girls need any help?” Shanon, a Mia Maid, ended up donating enough money for two more girls to come to the encampment.
Those good works help her add a brilliant yellow to the rainbow.
“It was the first time I’d performed in public in four years,” said Gretchen Williams, from Newport News, when talking about her performance the night before in the opening program. She danced a ballet solo while a friend sang a song. What most people didn’t know is the she’d given up her beloved ballet several years earlier because she was afflicted by painful arthritis.
When Gretchen arrived at the encampment, she discovered that the stage would be much smaller and shaped differently than the one she’d rehearsed on. It would have been easy to back out, using her physical pain or the unfamiliar stage as an excuse. After all, under the given circumstances, there was no way she could perform her best, and hundreds of people would be watching. But Gretchen wouldn’t think of pulling out.
She realized, as the program she performed in said, “Integrity is doing what you know you should do, even it it’s inconvenient or difficult.”
And with that she adds a deep, rich purple to the rainbow.
Each girl at the encampment contributed her own, unique shade, and the mothers helped mix them together. “This is so good for our girls—being able to come here and share with so many other people who have the same morals and standards as they do,” said Linda Floyd of Waynesborough. “We’re all just walking around about two feet off the ground.”
Nothing could dampen their spirits, not even the warm Virginia rains that came and ended the encampment a day early. The rainbow colors ran a bit, but only to become beautifully blended.
People worked together to make sure that everyone left dry and happy.
“It’s programs like these that make mother-daughter relationships that last for eternity,” said Tara Romney, from Newport News.
The commitments, the decisions, and the loving relationships that were made and cultivated that weekend certainly do have eternal significance. They create a brilliant, beautiful rainbow that will span from this life into the next.

In closing, may I share with you a story of a woman whose life demonstrated trials, promises, and dedication to Relief Society.
Years ago, a faithful father and mother were traveling with three of their six daughters from Utah to Washington. About 13 miles out of Baker, Oregon, the car spun out of control, left the road, and rolled two and a half times. The second time it rolled over, the mother, who was driving, and her youngest daughter, who was 10 years old, were thrown from the car. Because the car did not have enough momentum to complete the third roll, it rocked back and pinned the mother and her daughter beneath its weight. The father quickly surveyed the situation and, knowing that if the car was not moved quickly his wife would die, he bowed his head in humble prayer and then proceeded to lift the huge Buick, with its wheels still spinning. The youngest daughter crawled from beneath as his 12-year-old daughter pulled her mother from beneath the car. The mother was critically injured and in terrible pain. As the father tended to the others, the 12-year-old daughter knelt beside her mother to comfort her. The mother reached for the girl’s hand and said, “Always remember who you are, and always be a good girl.”
The ambulance soon arrived, and the mother was whisked off to the nearest hospital. Amid the critical moments of that evening as the mother teetered between life and death, she pled with her Father in Heaven to spare her life long enough to see her six daughters married to worthy men in the house of the Lord. She promised that if He would grant her this righteous desire, she would then be ready to go, and she would dedicate her life to Him.
Miraculously, the woman steadily progressed over the days and weeks that followed until she fully recovered from her near-fatal injuries. More committed than ever, she faithfully served the Lord and focused her attention on raising her six daughters in righteousness.
Years later, while serving as the stake Relief Society president in Clearfield, Utah, she saw her youngest daughter married for time and all eternity. That day was the fulfillment of a sacred covenant between a beloved daughter of God and her loving Heavenly Father. The woman, her husband, their six daughters, and their eternal companions stood together in the house of the Lord. Her earnest plea from a hospital bed years before had been heard and fulfilled.
From that day forward, the woman’s health quickly declined under the ravages of cancer. Her condition worsened to the point that she could no longer continue in her calling as stake Relief Society president. As a result, she reluctantly accepted a release just weeks before she serenely and gratefully passed into the eternities, returning to a Heavenly Father who was mindful of her.
Sisters, that 12-year-old girl who knelt at the roadside beside her mother so many years ago, stands before you as a witness that:
“Your every need shall be fulfilled, now, and in the eternities; every neglect will be erased; every abuse will be corrected. All of this can come to you, and come quickly, when you devote yourself to Relief Society.”

Growing up, living the gospel felt simple. I trusted my parents and leaders, and they guided me and helped me make good choices.
But as I’ve reached young adulthood, I’ve learned that we can often face difficulties and challenges in life that will test our faith.
When my grandmother passed away unexpectedly, my family and I faced one of these difficult times. It made me stop and question, “If God is good, why would He take someone good from our lives?”
My grandma was our pillar. She was kind, caring, and charitable—a mother to everyone. She welcomed everyone into our home. Neighborhood kids who played in the street in front of our house would eat dinner with us because she had a plate of food for everyone.
So when she died, I struggled with my faith.
Amid all my grief, even though I wasn’t looking to find answers in the gospel or in God, I still prayed every day. At first, my prayers were monotonous. I asked for the same things. I was grateful for the same things.
But as time passed, there was one question in my heart that I finally asked Heavenly Father:
“How can I find peace?”
A friend was the answer to that sincere prayer.
Thanks to him, I started attending church again. He invited me to come with him, and I agreed to go, just because he was my friend. I wasn’t interested in participating.
But little by little, just because I was there, the gospel messages began to enter my heart. I saw that Heavenly Father has a plan for us. President Russell M. Nelson taught:
“Eternal perspective provides peace ‘which passeth all understanding.’ (Philippians 4:7.) …
“Life does not begin with birth, nor does it end with death.”
Though I still mourn for my grandma, the gospel of Jesus Christ provides me with peace and the reassurance that we will one day be reunited.
I also learned that it takes constant and daily effort to remember my baptismal covenant and listen to the guiding voice of the Spirit. I began to treasure the gift of the Holy Ghost in my life. I know He is always with me, through every difficulty I face.
I’m so grateful for a friend who noticed I was pulling away from the gospel and reached out to support me. As I continued attending church, institute, and other young adult activities, I grew closer with more young adults in my area who were all seeking to love one another and live the gospel of Jesus Christ.
President Nelson also taught:
“Latter-day Saints, as with other followers of Jesus Christ, are always looking for ways to help, to lift, and to love others. They who are willing to be called the Lord’s people ‘are willing to bear one another’s burdens, … to mourn with those that mourn; … and [to] comfort those that stand in need of comfort’ [Mosiah 18:8–9].
“They truly seek to live the first and second great commandments. When we love God with all our hearts, He turns our hearts to the well-being of others in a beautiful, virtuous cycle.”
Helping me bear my burdens was exactly what my fellow disciples in my ward did for me and what they continue to do for one another. I sincerely love those in my ward! We get together often, we support each other, and we minister to one another. When someone needs a job, we help each other look for opportunities. When new people visit our Sunday meetings, we welcome them and try to make them feel included.
Good friends have helped me grow strong in the gospel, and together, we are strong against the trials and temptations of life.
And just as good friends supported me when I needed it most, I now have the opportunity to be that friend to others. At times when I’ve noticed people I love are struggling or have been distancing themselves from the Church, I do what I can to keep supporting and inviting them—to remind them that the Lord loves them and is waiting for them to return to the covenant path.
I know I wouldn’t be where I am today without my wonderful friends and ward members who helped me have the courage to stay faithful when I was feeling so much grief.

Kim was excited about family home evening. Grandma and Grandpa were coming to stay for a visit, and they were going to share a special lesson.
Grandma and Grandpa arrived at Kim’s house on Monday afternoon. Kim, Cody, Kate, and even baby Connor could hardly wait for family home evening.
Grandma started the lesson with a question: “What does it mean to go the extra mile?”
Kim, Cody, and Kate thought and thought. They didn’t know.
Mom spoke up. “If someone asks you to go one mile with them, you would go two miles.”
“If the bishop asks us to help someone, we can do what he asks us to do and then see if there is something more that needs to be done,” Dad said.
“I get it!” Cody said. “If Mama asked me to clean my room, I could clean up the living room too. And go the extra mile!”
“Great examples,” Grandma said. “Do you have any more ideas?”
Kim said, “If Mama asks me to watch Connor while she fixes dinner, I could play with him instead of just watching him.”
“If Mama asks me to water the plants, I could put water in Toby’s dog dish too,” Kate said.
“If Daddy asks me to carry a bag of groceries, I could go back and carry another bag,” Cody said.
“I love your ideas!” Grandma said.
“Grandpa hasn’t said anything,” Kim said. “What could you do to go the extra mile, Grandpa?”
Grandpa thought for a few seconds. “If Grandma asks me to eat one cookie, I could eat two cookies,” he said.
Kim laughed. “Oh, Grandpa, you are so silly,” she said.
“What do you mean?” Grandpa asked. “Don’t you think it would be going the extra mile to eat two cookies instead of just one?”
Kim, Cody, and Kate laughed.
Grandma laughed too. Then she asked everyone to remember the lesson and go the extra mile whenever they could.
After Grandma and Grandpa’s visit was over, they went back to their own home. Grandma called Kim, Cody, and Kate every once in a while to see what they were doing to go the extra mile.