Gospel Story Finder

After two years of custodial work, another ward was added to our building, making a total of four. On Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday we had Relief Society, with the officers arriving as early as 8:30 A.M. The Relief Society room, foyer, kitchen, south steps, nursery, and rest rooms had to be ready. While Relief Society was in session, we cleaned the rest of the classrooms, the chapel and the cultural hall.

Then at 3:00 the Primary officers began to arrive. The relief society room, nurseries, kitchen and rest rooms had to be checked and cleaned if needed. When Primary was over we picked up, swept, straightened chairs, and cleaned backboards to get ready for activity night. This went for about a year; then two wards moved out of the building. It seemed like we were on vacation!

My dad worked for over 30 years in professional scouting, so growing up, I spent a lot of time at summer camps, and I loved to go hiking with my dad. He knew the names of all the plants and trees. He made the woods come to life for me. I remember one such hike when I was still very young. We ran out of trail and into a huge boulder that hung on the edge of a steep ravine. The only way forward was down the face of that boulder, but I couldn’t manage it. My dad worked his way down and then stood below and told me to jump, promising he’d catch me.

Now I had no doubt my father loved me, but I remember hesitating. I knew he meant well, but it was a big rock, and it was a long way down. And I probably weighed more than he thought, and what if, best intentions aside, he couldn’t catch me? And so I pulled back. It took a lot of coaxing to get me to take that leap, and of course it all worked out, but it wasn’t easy.

I think sometimes I do the same thing with Christ. In life, the only way forward is to trust in Him. He has promised me that as imperfect as I may be, if I exercise faith in Him, I can trust Him to bring me home. But sometimes I pull back. “Maybe,” I reason, “He doesn’t really recognize how vast the distance is between where I am and where He is. He may not realize how heavy my burden actually is. What if I am simply not good enough?”

In another situation, a sister’s mother passed away. A friend, knowing the sister’s loss, wanted to help, but was uncertain what she should do. Should she take flowers or food? Her husband suggested she ask the Lord what to take. The answer came, “Just go.” Upon her arrival, the sister was immediately comforted by her friend’s presence and asked her to pray with her. Then the grieved sister commented on what her friend had brought—a needed peace.

Karen, whose parents divorced when she was in high school, says, “It’s a heavy burden packing your parents’ problems around. I don’t have to suffer for their mistakes, and I know that now.”

Karen received help from her grandparents. They listened compassionately and showered their love on her. “I found great comfort in things that were stable,” she says. “I was drawn to people who had regularity and routine in their lives.”

Karen says she pretended to be happy and carefree for several years after her parents’ divorce. “I watched my brothers and sister grieve and thought they were being melodramatic. It’s not that big of a deal, I thought. I couldn’t see that I was in major aftershock; I covered it up and ran from the problem.” Karen believes it took her longer to work through the pain because she tried to repress it at first.

John was a young boy when his father left home. Even as a teenager, if he doesn’t discuss his feelings occasionally, his anger seems to fester.

“Sometimes it builds up so much that I won’t say anything to anyone,” he says. “Then I’ll completely blow up. You need to talk things over with somebody who loves you.”

It’s okay to cry about a divorce and to feel the loss deeply. It’s healthy to admit things have changed. Then, when you’ve acknowledged and worked through your difficult feelings, it’s easier to move on.

Friends who don’t share your standards could actually weaken and tear your standards down. When I first moved to my new school, I tried to fit in by saying some of the things people around me would say. I almost forgot some of my standards while trying to be like everyone. I know now that in order to build your standards, you need friends who support and share your standards. I’m grateful I eventually found friends like that because they remind me of my standards.
Logan J., age 15, Utah, USA

Youth in South Bend, Indiana, know how to put in a hard day’s work. They spent part of their youth conference planting flowers, painting buildings, and pulling weeds for two charity organizations in their area. They had a lot of work to do at the beginning of the day, but the youth came through—despite the intense heat and humidity.
“The service projects were really fun. There was a lot to do, but with everyone’s help we successfully finished it all,” says 15-year-old Kristen Woolf.
This group may be small in numbers—about 65 in all—but they know how to make a big difference.

About two years ago MacLeans Geo-JaJa, a professor in the McKay School of Education, asked me to help with the Inner City Refugee Project, which is designed to meet the needs of refugees settling in the Salt Lake area. In the process I met Bob and Amy Wylie, humanitarian service missionaries who devote nearly constant attention to serving individuals from diverse cultures and religions.

I was so touched by what I learned of their work. While conversions to the Church do occur as a result of their efforts, Bob and Amy follow Elder Henry B. Eyring’s admonition to love and serve those who are not of our faith before we consider sharing our testimonies (see “Let Us Raise Our Voice of Warning,” Ensign, January 2009, 5–9). Amy and Bob serve and love these refugees because they think of them as brothers and sisters who have needs. Because this is their motivation, the service is heartfelt and sincere.

In the Japanese translation of the hymn “Called to Serve” (Hymns, no. 249), the English words onward and forward are translated as susume. That word has significant meaning for me because of something that happened a few years ago when I was a stake president in Fukuoka, Japan.
The President of the Church, Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), was visiting, and I was asked to accompany him. During one meeting, 300 full-time missionaries gathered to listen to the prophet. The Holy Spirit filled the chapel, and many of us shed tears of joy. We sang “Called to Serve” in Japanese, repeating over and over again susume, susume. President Hinckley asked the mission president, seated next to him, “What does susumemean?”
“It means ‘go forward,’” the mission president replied.
The meeting was wonderful. President Hinckley encouraged and motivated the missionaries. Afterward, he waved to them in farewell and left the building. As he got into my car to go back to the hotel, he said one word to me, in Japanese: “Susume!”
That word became a motto for me: “Go forward! Be positive! Face the future with faith!” It is the same message given to the youth of the Church in the concluding section of For the Strength of Youth. After reviewing the blessings that come from obedience to the Lord’s standards, in a section titled “Go Forward with Faith,” it says: “As you do these things, the Lord will make much more out of your life than you can by yourself. He will increase your opportunities, expand your vision, and strengthen you. He will give you the help you need to meet your trials and challenges. You will gain a stronger testimony and find true joy as you come to know your Father in Heaven and His Son, Jesus Christ, and feel Their love for you” ([2011], 43).

During my final two years of schooling to become a dentist, I had the privilege of being taught weekly by one of the world’s foremost maxillary-facial surgeons. His personal preparation and training had been long and intense. After receiving his dental degree, he had received additional degrees in orthodontics, oral surgery, plastic surgery, and pathology. Because of his renowned ability, he was sought after by people from many parts of the world to repair mouths and faces following traumatic accidents, or to remove destructive tumors that left faces deformed and in need of his talents at facial reconstruction.
We had weekly seminars with this noted surgeon. They were held in the medical theater, where the dental students could view a patient’s particular disorder and see the results achieved following the surgical correction. In the sessions before the treatment, the clinical and laboratory findings were presented, and the possible cause or causative agents that might have contributed to the malady were discussed.
It was interesting how often the causative agent would be one of the harmful substances that the Lord had revealed to mankind through the Prophet Joseph Smith. The fact that the Lord had revealed the Word of Wisdom—with all its important counsel on the various substances that are beneficial, as well as those that are harmful to our bodies—long before that knowledge was taught by the medical community, has been a great testimony to me of the calling of Joseph Smith as the Lord’s prophet of the Restoration.
During those lecture sessions, I could have closed my eyes and imagined that I was seated in one of our Church meetings being taught about the blessings of living the Word of Wisdom. At almost every session this noted surgeon would vigorously denounce tobacco because of its harmful effects, and we witnessed it before our very eyes.
At that time evidence identifying smoking as a major cause of lung cancer was being documented. However, little was published about tobacco as a major cause of mouth and throat cancer. There in that theater as a dental student, I saw the devastating effects of cancer of the mouth and face, which were attributed not only to smoking but also to chewing tobacco. Keeping that powerful irritant in contact with the mouth tissue resulted many times in disfiguring types of facial tumors.
“And again, tobacco is Not for the Body, neither for the belly, and is not good for man” (D&C 89:8).
Alcohol was also condemned during those sessions as an irritant to the delicate tissues of the mouth and throat, causing other types of tumors.
“And, again, strong drinks are not for the belly, but for the washing of your bodies” (D&C 89:7).
Tea and coffee were discussed, not only because of their adverse chemical effects on the body, but also because of the temperature of the drinks. The drinks were often taken so hot that, without realizing it, many individuals were drinking liquids close to the boiling temperature. Those detrimental effects were observed.
“And again, hot drinks are not for the body or belly” (D&C 89:9).
But why do these substances act as they do? Why does one person contract an infirmity, and another in the same situation and environment never have a problem?
Our renowned instructor explained that under normal conditions, the cells behave in a normal manner; however, certain factors can trigger the cells to go out of control. These cells then become fast-growing and destructive tumors that can disfigure and threaten life. The sensitivity level at which the cells respond to the triggering factor, or T-Factor as he called it, depends on the inherent nature of the individual. Some people are very sensitive, so just a small stimulus would cause the change, while other individuals appear to be more resistant. This inherent level at which the cells can be triggered to change could explain why some people live long and seemingly trouble free, while others are affected easily and early in life.
With this understanding, perhaps we might understand better the meaning of the words from the Word of Wisdom, “adapted to the capacity of the weak and the weakest of all saints” (D&C 89:3). For a person with a low level of resistance to a harmful substance, just one encounter may trigger unwanted and dangerous cellular changes.
It is interesting how far the medical community has come in vindicating the words of a prophet who revealed that great health law, the Word of Wisdom, when its principles were not very popular.
As a young dental student, I was extremely impressed with the knowledge of this outstanding maxillary-facial surgeon. He seemed to have great knowledge, and I was amazed with his skill. However, in reality, his knowledge was just a mite in comparison with the knowledge of the Great Physician—the one who healed the lepers, raised Lazarus from the dead, and made the blind to see. The Word of Wisdom is from Him, and medical science is just barely catching up.

I also think of my mother and father and how they faced the troubles of their day. They both entered BYU in the 1930s during the Great Depression. They met at BYU, married in 1936, and had their first child early in 1938 while they were still in school. They struggled to pay tuition and to earn enough money for food and rent. My father majored in agronomy, and as he approached graduation in 1938, the unemployment rate was 15 percent, about twice what it is today. He wondered if he would be able to find a job and support his wife and child. One of his professors encouraged him to take the civil service exam, and he did well enough on the exam that he was offered a job with the Soil Conservation Service within the Department of Agriculture. He was assigned to do soil surveys in New England, North Dakota—a small town in the southwestern part of the state. It was not where he or his wife would have chosen to go, but it was a job, and they went.

When they arrived, they discovered that there were no other members of the Church in the town. Dad and Mother held Sunday School in our home, and occasionally the full-time missionaries, who served in Dickinson, 30 miles to the north, would visit us. Money was tight, and some vital commodities were rationed during World War II, including gasoline, meat, sugar, and butter. These items were in short supply, and rationing was the only way to make sure everyone got their fair share. Even if you had money to buy more, you were only allowed to buy small amounts of the rationed items.

When I was six we moved to Dickinson, North Dakota, and after 14 years of marriage, my parents were able to buy a home. The economic situation improved somewhat after World War II; we had basic necessities, but with six children it was a challenge for my parents to meet their expenses. My mother taught us Primary at home, and we held church in our living room with our family, the two full-time missionaries, and Frank Whitney, the only other Church member in the town at the time. Gradually the Church grew—several families moved in, and a few were baptized. We rented a hall in the community center to hold church services. My Dad worked with the local Lions Club and Methodist Church to start a Scout program.

When I was 13 my dad was transferred to Bismarck, North Dakota, a beautiful little town on the Missouri River. My parents bought a three-bedroom rambler with an unfinished basement and no garage, and our family had one car, which we all shared. Mother took a job as a medical stenographer. I was happy that there was a small branch of the Church in Bismarck with several other teenagers. Our branch met in the basement of a local hotel, and as we set up for church on Sunday mornings, we usually had to clear away a few beer cans that had been left from the night before. As the branch grew, we were able to rent a small church from the Seventh-day Adventists.

At that time, Church policy was that local units had to earn a certain percentage of the cost before they could build a chapel. I remember many branch bake sales being held so we could earn money and one day have our own chapel. In addition, members were encouraged to contribute what they could to the building fund, but the branch was small and most members could not afford to give much. Accumulation of funds was slow, and I wondered if we would ever be able to build our own chapel. Finally, when I reached age 18—after years of dreaming, planning, and working—we had earned enough to pay our share of the cost to build a small chapel.

After I left North Dakota, the Church continued to grow. The Bismarck Stake was organized in the 1980s, and then in 1998 a small temple was constructed. For those of us who grew up in North Dakota and lived through the early struggles, the construction of a temple in Bismarck was a miracle that we had never dreamed could happen. Prior to that time the closest temple was in Idaho Falls, Idaho, 750 miles away.

My parents married and graduated during a challenging time—the Great Depression. They were sent to a cold and unknown place far from their families and their beloved Utah. Mother and Dad experienced North Dakota blizzards, rationing during the war, and the birth of a handicapped son. They went forward with faith and did the best they could during difficult times. As I look back on my life, I cherish the experiences I had in North Dakota. It is not where my parents would have chosen to raise us, but I thank God for sending them there. We associated with many good people of different faiths who enriched our lives, and we learned much from facing economic and spiritual challenges. I thank my parents for their faith and courage through much adversity. They taught us well and were true to their ideals.

My family joined the Church in 1977, when I was 11 years old. At that time a violent civil war was beginning in our native land of El Salvador. The political situation was serious, and there were constant armed confrontations between the army and the rebels, forcing the government to order a curfew of 6:00 p.m. for all citizens. There was no freedom of assembly or freedom of speech, and we felt threatened by both the army and the rebels.
These events caused many people to look for ways to emigrate to wherever they could. My family was no exception. My father accepted an offer of employment in Venezuela, hoping he could get us out of danger. For a time my mother was left as the head of our household.
The war made it a difficult time for the Church. The same flight that took my father to Venezuela took the last 15 missionaries out of El Salvador. This meant the end of any chance to receive the messengers of the gospel of Jesus Christ for a long time.
At the end of 1979 we and other members of the Church, especially the youth, began doing missionary work of our own. We organized small choirs and sang in the streets to give people hope. By doing this we found many people wanting to learn about the gospel.
Meanwhile we learned to live in danger. Whenever the confrontations or shelling occurred, we threw ourselves on the floor and hoped it would all be over soon. Mama would cover us with our mattresses for protection. What brought peace to us in these difficult moments were the hymns. Lying on the floor, we would hold our hymnbooks, and Mama would encourage us to sing “Come, Come, Ye Saints” (Hymns, no. 30), “How Firm a Foundation” (no. 85), “Joseph Smith’s First Prayer” (no. 26), “High on the Mountain Top” (no. 5), “O My Father” (no. 292), “I Stand All Amazed” (no. 193), and many other hymns that comforted us in our adversity. We often cried from the stress, but singing the hymns gave us the courage to face such a terrible situation.
Some time later Papa succeeded in bringing us to Venezuela, where we began a new life. We thanked our Heavenly Father for keeping us together and alive. Through this experience, I learned that the hymns invite a spirit of peace during difficult times.
Ana Gloria Hernández de Abzuela, Venezuela

When Paul H. Dunn of the First Quorum of the Seventy was eleven years old, baseball was an important part of his life. Paul’s parents permitted his team to use their large backyard for a baseball diamond. It was completely fenced in, with an alley running along the outside. Beyond the alley was a large church with a beautiful stained glass window that faced the center-field fence.
One hot summer evening an exciting baseball game was in progress in the Dunn backyard. Paul came to bat late in the game and hit an outside pitch. It looked like it might be the best hit he had ever made! The ball cleared the center-field fence, crossed the alley, and then, to everyone’s dismay, entered the church building through the large stained glass window some 260 feet away. It seemed to young Paul that the glass fell for hours. The players scattered in every direction.
When Paul got up the courage to return home, he discovered that his father had two visitors. They were both ministers from the neighboring church. To Paul’s surprise, they seemed to know from which house the baseball had come. Paul admitted to the ministers that he had hit the ball that had broken the window and told them that he was very sorry.
Paul’s father put his arm around his son’s shoulder, patted him on the head, and said, “This is a good boy.” He, too, apologized for the mishap and asked how much it would cost to replace the stained glass window. They told him that it would be about $500.
It was then that his father taught young Paul a great lesson. He asked the ministers if they understood the principle of Christ’s atonement. They seemed a little puzzled. His father said, “In our Church, we believe that ‘through the Atonement of Christ, all mankind may be saved by obedience to the laws and ordinances of the gospel’” (third article of faith). He explained that the atonement allows each of us to be forgiven of our sins if we repent. Jesus paid for all our sins when He suffered in the Garden of Gethsemane. As the only perfect person who ever lived on earth, He was the only one who could do this for us. We could not do it for ourselves. Without His sacrifice, we could never be forgiven of our sins and would not be able to live with Heavenly Father and Jesus again.
Paul’s father pointed out that although Paul had broken a window, he could never pay for it himself. His allowance of 25¢ a week would never pay for a $500 window. Taking his checkbook from his coat pocket, he wrote out a check for the amount needed and said, “As Paul’s father, and because I love him, I will pay the price that he cannot.”
This experience helped Paul understand what Jesus did for us when He atoned for our sins. At this Easter time we can be thankful that Heavenly Father loved us enough to send His Son so that we can be forgiven when we do something wrong.

A couple of years later the Rozsas, by now well-known throughout the area, were again on the same basketball team, this time one that was preparing for the championship playoffs. The coach of the team they would play next was in attendance at one of their games, trying to figure out how to deal with the triple threat.
“Our biggest problem is that our guys don’t know which one to guard,” he confided to his assistant. “But I’ve got it all figured out. They each wear different colored shoes.” Unknown to the coach was the fact that seated right behind him and hearing every word was Sister Dawna Rozsa, mother of the triplets. And the next week as the confident coach came out to face the triplets, he was dismayed to find they really were identical right down to the color of their shoes.
The triplets lived in Boston while their father, Brother Allen Rosza, served as president of the Massachusetts Boston Mission. Since then, the family had been in California, where the boys are finishing up their senior year at El Modena High School in Orange.
All three young men are starting players on El Modena’s championship football team, with Dan at the defensive end, Dave at guard, and Doug at linebacker. In 1978 their team took home the Southern Conference Championship of the California Interscholastic Federation. On a rain-drenched evening they defeated Pacifica High School before a crowd of more that 10,000 spectators at Anaheim Stadium. In 1979 the team reached the semi-finals before being eliminated by the eventual champions.
The Rozsas have grown up playing on the same football, basketball, baseball, track, and wrestling teams, often much to the confusion of their opponents and even their coaches, who still haven’t figured out a way to tell them apart. The results of their collective athletic endeavors give the bedroom they share the appearance of a trophy case. Awards such as “Most Valuable, “All League,” “Player of the Game,” “All-County,” and All-CIF” seem to fill up every shelf and corner.
Many young people would be more than content with just the athletic success the triplets enjoy. Yet a look at their lives shows that this same high level of performance carries over into other areas. Each maintains a grade-point average that is nearly straight-A and each has received numerous scholastic and citizenship honors. All are Eagle Scouts and have earned their Duty to God awards. Each is active in all church activities, has served a youth mission, and is now in his fourth year at early morning seminary. Since they became deacons, the three have taken turns as president of their various Aaronic Priesthood quorums. In addition, Doug is this year’s student-body president at El Modena, with Dan assisting him as vice-president, while Dave heads up the senior class as president. Their attitude has always been to make the maximum effort at everything they do.
“We just try to be the best we can,” says Doug. “You only have an experience or situation once, and it’s a waste to say, ‘Oh, I could have done that if I’d only tried.’”
“Sure, it’s fun to be number one, but if you’re not, at least you know you never lose if you try your hardest,” agrees Dave. “We try not to think about what we’ve already done. Those things have been in the past, and we feel you have to keep proving yourself.”
Brother and Sister Rozsa were living in Greenville, Texas, in 1961 when the boys were born. Already the parents of four daughters, the couple were convinced they were never going to have any sons, so they had selected only girls’ names for the twins they thought were coming. A few days before the birth, the doctor called the Rozsas in and told them to get ready for triplets. So, with the addition of one more girl’s name, the couple thought they were prepared.
When the big day came, Brother Rozsa had his ear up against the delivery room door and heard just what he expected—“It’s a girl.” But before that had a chance to register the doctor broke in with “No, wait a minute; it’s a boy,” soon followed by exclamations of “Another boy,” “And another one.”
Practically having to pick himself up off the floor, Brother Rozsa’s first thoughts were “Scouting, fishing, and little league—at last!” An avid athlete and sportsman, Brother Rozsa says he had tried unsuccessfully to turn his very feminine daughters into tomboys. Thus he was overjoyed at the thoughts of not one but three fishing and football companions.
Brother and Sister Rozsa soon realized their three identical sons presented them with some special opportunities. One family home evening the parents and daughters decided they would read the entire New Testament by the end of the year.
“We figured out how many pages a day we would have to read to finish and talked it over, never dreaming that the boys, who were only eight years old, would be able to read the New Testament,” recalls Sister Rozsa. “But they didn’t realize they weren’t really a part of the conversation, so they started reading along with us. By the end of the year, each one had finished the New Testament along with the rest of the family.”
Brother Rozsa, now serving as a member of the Los Angeles Temple presidency, says he feels this incident taught his sons a lot about success. “They learned very early that if they stuck with a task they could be successful at it. We believe in our family that you can do anything if you set priorities and then follow them.”
As young boys, the triplets learned a lot about priorities from their parents and sisters. They soon knew that family and church came first, followed by school work, Scouting, music lessons, and sports. Over the years, they’ve kept up the same active pace. How do they do it?
“Well, we try not to waste much time. And we don’t have room for much sleep or television,” the three agree.
Serving full-time missions has been a priority with the triplets from the beginning. Their desire to do this grew even more when they were 12 and their father was called as a mission president.
“We decided when we were very young that we wanted to serve missions,” says Dave. “But being in the mission home gave us a better idea of what missionaries really do and what a mission is really like.” The three brothers still discuss the many dedicated and outstanding missionaries they knew in Boston.
Of course, they also admit they had great fun confusing the missionaries about which triplet was which. And, they remember many early morning bargaining sessions, trying unsuccessfully to convince the missionaries in the mission home to drive them around on their paper routes in the sub-zero Boston winters.
Serving a mission can be a financial burden to any missionary and his family, but what do you do when you have three sons all wanting to leave at the same time? The Rozsa family has foreseen this, and the boys have been working since the age of 13 toward their missions. In addition to those icy Boston paper routes, they’ve sold avocados, worked in construction, and held other odd jobs. Last summer all three worked at the same taco stand at the same time, guaranteeing considerable confusion among unsuspecting customers. They report their bank accounts are in good shape for the missions to come.
Even though the Rozsas have spent their lives in areas where the Church is a definite minority, none of the triplets feels he has ever had to compromise his beliefs to be successful.
“We always let people know where we stand, right from the beginning. Some guys bug us a few times, but now they respect us,” says Doug. “We don’t argue, we just say, ‘Hey, I’m not going to do that.’ Our coaches and friends know we have to be out of practice in time for Mutual, they know we don’t participate in sports on Sundays, and they know where we stand on the Word of Wisdom.”
For the most part, all three enjoy playing on the same teams. The only problem comes with wrestling season when the triplets, who stand 6 feet 2 1/2 inches tall and normally weigh in at 200 pounds, struggle to get into three different weight classes. One of them diets as another tries to eat his way into a higher weight class. The lucky third member of the trio gets to maintain the status quo.
A joint sports experience they remember is the football game when each of them made a touchdown. During another game, they all recovered the same fumble. Doug got to it first, then Dan drove in on top of him, followed by Dave.
“I guess sometimes we have an advantage,” says Dan. “We can usually figure out what each other would do in a situation.”
However it is that they do it, their coaches like it. El Modena’s football coach, Bob Lester, has only one complaint—“I wish they were quintuplets!”
Even with all their many activities, the Rozsas naturally find time for some relaxation. All three enjoy waterskiing, tinkering with cars, fishing, and other outdoor activities. Of course, some of the fun times they recall most revolve around their being triplets. At an early age, a favorite trick was to insist to Junior Sunday School teachers that all three of them were Dan. The next week they would all profess to be Dave and then Doug.
Sister Rozsa remembers a prayer offered by one of her sons at age four. “Bless my parents, bless my sisters, and bless those other two who look like me.”
Trading classes and teachers has been a source of occasional amusement, but the boys say they’ve kept this to a minimum. It’s always been a rule among them that while they often study together, each one has to take his own tests.
Now that the triplets are old enough to date, they’re really finding their threesome to be an advantage at times. Dan recalls one evening when he was trying to phone a girl to ask her out, but her number was always busy. He had to run off to a meeting, so he assigned brother Dave to fill in for him.
“Dave finally got hold of her and asked for a date. She said yes, I took her out, and she never found out what really happened,” says Dan. The three brothers remain sworn to secrecy as to the name of the young lady in question.
One thing people always ask the boys is “What’s it like to be a triplet?” Their response is really quite logical: “We’ve never been anything but triplets. It feels really normal to us,” says Doug.
“It’s easy for us to tell each other apart, too, because we look so different to each other,” says Dan. (Or was that Dave?)
The triplets are often amused by people’s reactions to seeing them for the first time.
“For some reason they get really mixed-up,” chuckles Dave. “They always come up to all three of us and ask, ‘Are you twins?’ Only rarely are we asked if we’re triplets. It’s like people think that’s just too much to be believed.”
Being triplets has its definite advantages, the boys claim. When they were young, their dad’s career in the air force took them all over the country. And unlike most kids, the triplets always got to take their best friends along with them wherever they went. In fact, in over 18 years the only time they’ve been apart was when serving their youth missions last summer. This togetherness will undoubtedly change in the next couple of years, though, as new experiences such as college and missions enter their lives. That is, unless missionaries start going forth three-by-three instead of two-by-two.

Nikolas and Sergey Chemezov and their parents are also helping the Church grow. And they have seen their own family become closer and closer since embracing the restored gospel in 1992.
Of course, like all brothers, they have similarities and differences. Sergey is 20, Nik, 12; but Nik is the taller of the two. Nik is quiet; Sergey is bolder. Both are athletic, lift weights, and love helicopters. Both are musicians: Nik plays piano; Sergey, violin. Both love the gospel and all it stands for. And both are fiercely loyal to each other and to their parents, Sergey Sr. and Valia.
That loyalty was tested when Valia and the boys returned from an extended visit with her parents and found that Sergey Sr. was investigating the Church. But he persuaded them to listen to the missionaries, to learn what he was learning, and to give it a fair chance.
“I can say the gospel saved our family,” Sergey Jr. says. “I decided to be baptized because of the example of my father. I saw a very big change in him when he joined the Church. He became so nice, so loving. It was a testimony for me.”
“Before,” Sister Chemezov explains, “the family didn’t come first. But now we understand we are an eternal family, and we appreciate one another on a whole new level.”
“I used to think because I was the big brother, I always had to lead the way,” Sergey says. “But now when I stand next to Nik, I see that he is taller than I am. I know that sometimes he teaches me, that when I need help I can count on him.”
Nik has been there not only for Sergey but for his parents as well. “From the time he was baptized, he’s been saying, ‘I want to pass the sacrament; when can I start?’” Brother Chemezov explains. “That kind of excitement has strengthened our own testimonies and our faith. Helping other people and helping his family—Nik understands that’s what the priesthood is all about. He was very happy when he turned 12 and I ordained him a deacon.”
Nik was also happy when the family was sealed in the Freiberg Germany Temple. “After finishing the sessions, we had free time,” Brother Chemezov says. “Other people went to the city and went shopping. I asked the family, ‘Do you want to go to the city?’ and Nik said of the temple, ‘This place is so good; I don’t want to go to another place.’”
“The priesthood has the highest position in my life,” Nik says. “It helps me live as Jesus Christ says we should. I know if we will honor it, God will help us and make us better.”
That’s a reminder Sergey thinks of every day, especially now that he is serving full time in the Japan Tokyo North Mission. Nik, of course, hopes to someday follow his example.

It has been a most important influence also in missionary work. For example: When I was a young missionary, I had a companion—a wonderful man from Rupert, Idaho. His name was Elder Henry L. Baker. We tracted together in a city in eastern Canada.
As we came to one door, a woman responded to our knock and immediately invited us in—before we had a chance to give the usual door approach! Hardly had we entered the house when she said, “Where is the book you were to bring me?”
Naturally, we were astonished. But she quickly explained. She said that during the previous night she had had a dream in which she saw us come to her home. It was so vivid, she said, that when she saw us approaching her door, she recognized us instantly. She was told in the dream that we had a book that would lead her entire family to salvation.
Immediately we gave her the Book of Mormon and discussed it at some length with her. She invited us to return that same evening to meet her family, which we did. After an appropriate period of study, the family joined the Church and all are still faithful and true.

“Soldier!”
Meltiar Hatch leaped to his feet and saluted the man on horseback. The Mormon Battalion had been on the march since dawn. Meltiar had taken advantage of a break to bring his 16-year-old brother, Orin, to rest in the shade of a tree. He hadn’t heard the officer’s horse until it was right next to him.
Lieutenant Smith returned Meltiar’s salute. “At ease, soldier.” He looked down at Orin, who lay unmoving, his eyes closed. “Your companion looks to be very ill.”
“Yes, sir,” Meltiar said sadly. “He contracted the fever at Fort Leavenworth, but I know that in time—”
“Time? Time?” Lieutenant Smith loudly interrupted. “This troop has no time. The untimely death of our former commanding officer has set us back two weeks. We cannot defer to the sick and the weary. Leave him.”
Meltiar’s protests were ignored as Lieutenant Smith turned and gave the order to assemble. As the drums sounded, men began to scramble to collect their provisions and line up. Meltiar sat down heavily and put his head in his hands.
“Meltiar,” Orin’s voice was barely audible. “Forgive me. I joined up only because I wanted to finally be useful, like you were in Nauvoo. I never imagined it would end like this.”
“Well, none of us imagined we’d ever be led by Lieutenant Smith, either. Few of the non-Mormon leaders have been unkind; he’s just the worst of the lot. Let’s not forget the promises given by Brigham Young and the Twelve,” Meltiar said with conviction. “If we conduct ourselves properly on this march, our lives will be spared.” He put his pack and canteen in Orin’s hands. “Here is some extra food and some water. I must go now, but I’ll be back, I promise.” He got to his feet.
“I never meant to be a burden.”
“Brothers can never be burdens.”
When the battalion made camp for the night, Meltiar quietly slipped away and began his journey back to the place where Orin waited. Much in need of rest, he sat down by a tree and quickly fell asleep. Later, he awoke with a start. He couldn’t remember why he was alone in the woods in the middle of the night, but sensed that someone’s life depended on him. Meltiar shook his head to clear his jumbled thoughts.
At the thought of his brother, Meltiar stumbled to his feet. That’s whose life depended on him now! Weary as he was, he had to keep walking. The two previous nights, Meltiar had another soldier help him bring Orin back to camp on horseback. Each morning, when Lieutenant Smith discovered what had happened, he angrily ordered that Orin be left behind again. Last night Lieutenant Smith had informed Meltiar that if he wanted to keep up his “foolhardy venture,” he could no longer disturb the sleep of other men or beasts. That was why he was now alone and on foot. And he knew that he must be only about a third of the way back to where he’d left his brother.
Meltiar had prayed fervently for help when he’d set out. He knew he had an impossible task. Even if he had not been exhausted from lack of sleep, it would take him most of the night just to reach Orin on foot. Although Orin was much improved and could probably walk, he couldn’t travel very fast in his weakened condition. Meltiar knew that if he didn’t get back to the battalion before it pulled out at dawn, it would leave them both behind. But he also knew that he could never leave Orin.
Several times on these night trips, Meltiar had had the uneasy feeling that he was being watched. Now he was certain he saw movement by a large rock up ahead. He stopped walking and slowly reached for his pistol. But the pistol was gone! He must have dropped it back where he had fallen asleep. He started to reach for his knife but froze when an Indian stepped out of the shadows. In the light of the moon something glinted in the Indian’s hand. It was Meltiar’s pistol!
As Meltiar stood wondering what to do, he heard the sound of a horse approaching. Could someone from the battalion be following me? he wondered. Or could it be another Indian? The Indian appeared not to have heard the sound, but stood unmoving, the gun down at his side.
When the horse came into the clearing, Meltiar’s heart sank when he saw that it was an Indian pony with two riders. Meltiar closed his eyes and prayed for help.
“Meltiar?” a familiar voice said.
Startled, Meltiar opened his eyes to see that one of the riders had dismounted and was approaching him cautiously.
“Meltiar?” the voice repeated. “Is that you?”
“Orin?”
The two brothers rushed together in a brief, fierce hug, then turned to face the waiting Indians. The Indians had both mounted the pony, leaving the brothers’ guns and packs on the ground. One Indian slowly raised his hand in a salute. “Brothers,” he said before they turned and rode off into the shadows.
“That’s what he said when he came and got me,” Orin said. “I thought he meant that something had happened to you, so I went with him, even though I was scared. How did they know we were brothers?”
“They’ve been watching us these past few nights,” Meltiar said with sudden realization. “And maybe they could see how much we cared for each other. They could also see how much we needed their aid, so they helped us! Or—” he smiled at Orin— “maybe he meant that we are all brothers.”
“I’m grateful for their help,” Orin said softly, “but sometimes it isn’t easy to accept help from others.”
“I know what you mean.” Meltiar leaned on Orin. “But if you are as strong as you look, now it’s time for you to be useful. I need your help to walk back to camp. I hate to be a burden, but I am very tired!”
“I am much stronger now, Meltiar. Don’t worry,” Orin told him with a smile. “Brothers can never be burdens.”

Apr. 13, 1853 I went to Cranberry Head, near to Yarmouth (2). Here I found Brother John Robinson and Brother Benjamin T. Mitchell at Mr. Moses Shaw’s. The Brethren (Robinson and Mitchell) said that they were going to travel together. The Brethren both said that I was too young and inexperienced to travel with either of them. They said I had better go to Halifax and see Brother A. D. L. Buckland and get counsel from him.

Apr. 14, 1853 I went into Yarmouth. Came back to Mr. Grace’s. He treated me kindly. I stayed until Saturday. Started for Halifax. (3) Left Cape Sable to my right hand. Traveled two hundred ten miles around the coast capes and bays to get to Halifax. I had to rely upon Him whose business I was on. I felt my weakness. A poor, ill-clothed, ignorant boy in my teens, thousands of miles from home, amongst strangers. The promise in my Blessings, the encouraging words of President Young to me, with the faith I had in the Gospel, kept me up. Many a time I would turn into the woods and brush in some desolate place, with a full heart, wet eyes and face, to call on my Master for strength and aid. I believed the Gospel of Christ. I never had preached it. I knew not where to find it in the scriptures. I had to give my Bible to the boatman at the Digby Gut for passage across.

“Do you think Moroni was lonely, Daddy?” Roslyn asked as her family finished the Book of Mormon in their scripture reading session for the day.
“What do you think?” her father asked, then commented, “Moroni was alone for many years after the big war destroyed his people.”
“He was probably lonely,” Roslyn said, as she thought of her own loneliness over the past several weeks.
“What do you think Moroni did that might have helped him feel less lonely?” her mother asked.
Roslyn thought about Moroni for a few minutes. “Well, he wrote a lot.”
Her mother responded, “Moroni wrote some wonderful messages from the Lord to us, didn’t he, honey? It probably did help him in his loneliness.”
Later, as she brushed her teeth and changed into her nightgown, Roslyn thought about their conversation. She opened her desk drawer and lifted out the journal that had been there since the last time she’d written in it, more than three months before. She used to write in her journal on Sundays, and sometimes in between, but after her sister Shelly was killed in a bicycle accident, Roslyn had not felt like writing in it or doing the things they used to do together.
Roslyn looked again at the empty bed in her room. She had other brothers and sisters, but Shelly had been the one closest to her age, and they had shared many interests. She believed that Shelly was now in a wonderful place and happy among others who loved her—Roslyn was glad about that—but she missed her sister very, very much.
Opening her journal, she began to read some of the things she had written. One Sunday’s entry said, “Our family went to Steve’s Cub Scout pack meeting Thursday evening. It was fun. After they gave out the awards, all the families went Christmas caroling and then went back to the meetinghouse for hot chocolate and cookies.”
On another Sunday, Roslyn had written, “Yesterday when Shelly and I finished our morning chores, we fixed sack lunches and went exploring on the cliff by our house. Chips went with us. It was kind of scary because Chips kept running between us and the cliff. He’s a very protective dog. I said a silent prayer that we would be safe—I didn’t want to fall into all those spiky trees and bushes below us! My prayer was answered, and Chips helped Shelly and me eat our picnic lunch as we sat on our hillside ’thrones’ (the big ‘chairs’ we carved in the dirt).”
As Roslyn read, it was as if Shelly was with her again. What a sweet feeling it gave her! She turned to the last entry she had recorded. It was mostly about her brothers, Steve and Wesley: “Today Steve cut a hole in the bottom of one of his old sweatsuits. He stood Wesley behind a little table with a blanket over it. Wesley had the sweatsuit on, but the legs of the pants were on the table. Steve put his arms through the pants legs and put shoes on his hands so that it looked like Wesley’s legs were sitting on the table. He hid behind Wesley and made the legs dance from side to side, up around his face, and all over. We all laughed and laughed.”
The picture of six-year-old Wesley and those funny, dancing “legs” came clearly into Roslyn’s memory, and she began to laugh again, even harder than she had then. It felt good to laugh.
Then she found a pen in her drawer and began to write. She wrote about Shelly’s accident—about losing her best friend, her dear sister. She wrote about how hard it was to still sleep in the same room and to do alone or with someone else some of the things they used to like most to do together. She ended by referring to Moroni and saying that he must have felt even lonelier than she did. “But Moroni is very happy now,” she wrote, “and writing in my journal makes me feel less lonely too.”

It was my first transfer as a senior companion in the Argentina Buenos Aires South Mission, and I felt like I was quite on top of my game. My companion and I had achieved what every missionary dreams of: we had found an entire family that was willing to have us teach them. The father, Hugo, was especially willing to listen to the gospel.
Hugo loved everything about the Church. He loved listening to our message, the Church members, and the scriptures. He and his whole family wanted to join the Church so badly, but he had to quit smoking first. My companion and I planned and prayed, trying to come up with a solution to help Hugo with his addiction.
One night, we were creating a plan with Hugo to quit smoking. He was discouraged and doubted whether it would be possible. I felt inspired to share with him a scripture that would later become one of my favorites: “And Christ hath said: If ye will have faith in me ye shall have power to do whatsoever thing is expedient in me” (Moroni 7:33). I asked Hugo, “Do you think that your baptism is ‘expedient’ to Jesus Christ?”
“Absolutely, Elder Ballard,” Hugo replied. “But I don’t think I can quit smoking.”
“The Lord promises you in this scripture that if you will have faith in Christ, it will be possible,” I assured him. We finished making our plan with him, which was a quick process that would eventually require him to stop completely, and he resolved to follow it.
Hugo quit smoking within the week and his whole family was baptized into the Church the following Sunday. I know that Hugo had found power in the scripture I shared with him.

Attending sacrament meeting for the first time was strange for Cesar. It wasn’t anything like the meetings he was accustomed to.
“There was a man carrying the sacrament trays. He was very busy fixing the microphone and saying hello to everyone. There were so many people there that I wondered if they would all fit in the church! It seemed funny that the man fixing the microphone was the bishop.
“It was also a change to be in church for three hours; that seemed like a long time. I still remember that first Sunday School class. We talked about the birth of Jesus Christ, and I asked a lot of questions. After class, Betty’s brother, Isaac, helped me find the missionaries. I didn’t go to priesthood meeting that day; instead, I had my first discussion with the missionaries.”