Gospel Story Finder

We find one of the most touching stories of sacrifice, faith, and loving charity in the life of Jens Neilson, who was a member of the Willie Handcart Company. Jens, a relatively prosperous Danish farmer, heeded the call to bring his family to Zion. In Iowa he wrote that he had let all of his money go to the Church except enough to buy a handcart and stock it with 15 pounds of belongings per person. Jens wrote, “Obedience is better than sacrifice.” The people for whom Jens was responsible were himself; his wife, Elsie; their six-year-old son, Neils; and a nine-year-old girl, Bodil Mortensen, whom Jens offered to take to Utah. In the early Wyoming blizzard, temperatures plummeted below zero. The Neilsons had consumed their last pound of flour days before, but somehow they made it over the treacherous Rocky Ridge, urged on by their indomitable courage and unconquerable faith. Tragically, 13 of the company died at Rock Creek and were buried in shallow, snow-covered graves—among them, Jens and Elsie’s son, Neils, and young Bodil Mortensen.
President Hinckley describes this portion of the trail as “a trail of tragedy, a trail of faith, a trail of devotion, a trail of consecration, even the consecration of life itself.”
Jens arrived at Rock Creek, 11 miles beyond Rocky Ridge, with both feet frozen. He was unable to walk another step and pleaded with Elsie, “Leave me by the trail in the snow to die, and you go ahead and try to keep up with the company and save your life.” Elsie, with her unfaltering pioneer courage, replied, “Ride, I can’t leave you, I can pull the cart.” Such was the strength and the faith of many pioneer women on the trail.

An example of a narrow window of vision being replaced by vision unlimited took place at the Monroe, Louisiana, airport several years ago. I was on my way home from a regional meeting and met a lovely African-American sister who approached me and said joyfully, “President Monson, before I joined the Church and became a member of the Relief Society, I could not read. I could not write. None of my family could. You see, we were all poor sharecroppers. President, my white Relief Society sisters—they taught me to read. They taught me to write. Now I help teach other white sisters how to read and how to write.” I reflected on the supreme happiness she must have felt when she opened her Bible and read for the first time the words of the Lord: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

That day in Monroe, Louisiana, I received a confirmation by the Spirit of your exalted objective of improving literacy among your sisters.

If you think about it, it’s a bit strange for someone to put goodies in your old sock. But like many Christmas traditions, the tradition of Christmas stockings comes from an old legend. A long time ago (so the story goes), a poor man had three daughters and couldn’t afford to give them a dowry (money or goods given to the groom’s family by the bride’s family). In those days, it was very hard for a woman to get married without a dowry. A Christian bishop named Nicholas heard about the problem and wanted to help, but the man refused to accept money. One night, Nicholas threw three balls made of pure gold in through the open window of the man’s house. Each one landed in a stocking hung by the fire to dry. The next morning, each daughter found a gold ball in her stocking. With this bounty, they were all able to get married. Stockings can remind us of the importance of service. The greatest example of service is Jesus Christ. He always “went about doing good” (Acts 10:38). Take some time to think about the Savior’s selfless acts of service. How can you give Christlike service and show kindness to others?

I believe Heavenly Father saw me heading in the wrong direction during high school and reached out to me by inspiring my parents. They noticed that I wasn’t myself anymore and that a lot of the light I used to have inside was missing. So, my mom asked if we could start having one-on-one scripture study together every night. I agreed, even though I hadn’t personally studied the scriptures for a while.
At first it felt like reading a chapter each night wasn’t making much of a difference; however, after a few months, I looked back and realized how far I’d come in strengthening my connection with God. I noticed an increase in my baseline level of happiness, and it became easier to let go of those friends who weren’t good influences.
Refamiliarizing myself with the scriptures has been a great blessing. I especially love the story of Alma the Younger and his incredible change of heart (see Alma 36:6–24). In my scripture journal I wrote this about his story: “God freely forgives anyone who repents. All we have to do is reach out. Those who leave the path are welcome back as soon as they make an effort to return.”

Back in the mid-’90s, during my college years, I was part of the Fourth Company of the Santiago Fire Department in Chile. While serving there, I lived at the fire station as part of the night guard. Toward the end of the year, I was told that I had to be at the fire station on New Year’s Eve because on that day there was almost always some emergency. Surprised, I replied, “Really?”
Well, I remember waiting with my associates when, at midnight, fireworks began shooting off in downtown Santiago. We started hugging each other with well wishes for the new year. Suddenly the bells at the fire station began ringing, indicating that there was an emergency. We got our equipment and jumped on the fire engine. On our way to the emergency, as we passed crowds of people celebrating the new year, I noticed that they were largely unconcerned and carefree. They were relaxed and enjoying the warm summer night. Yet somewhere nearby, the people we were hurrying to help were in serious trouble.
This experience helped me realize that although our lives may at times be relatively smooth, the time will come for each of us when we will face unexpected challenges and storms that will push the limits of our ability to endure. Physical, mental, family, and employment challenges; natural disasters; and other matters of life or death are but some of the examples of the storms that we will face in this life.

1 Let’s turn left on the next street.
2 Now let’s turn right.
3 Wait! I have a bad feeling about that street.
4 What kind of a bad feeling?
I—I don’t know. … Maybe the kind Sister Simon was telling us about—you know—about promptings by the Holy Ghost. I just know that I don’t want to go down there.
5 The next day
You know that street we didn’t go down yesterday?
Yeah, what about it?
There was a robbery there about the time we would’ve gone past!
6 Oh, no! I wonder …
Yeah, me too.

Crisanta Juan really wasn’t interested in leaving her family or her Philippine hometown of Mayantoc. But several of her friends were applying for jobs as nannies in Saudi Arabia. If they got the jobs, they told her, they could make lots of money to send home. Thinking nothing would ever come of it, twenty-five-year-old Crisanta signed up. A month later, she received word that she had been hired by a Saudi Arabian prince!
When the prince’s secretary came for her, Crisanta still wasn’t convinced that she wanted to go. The man couldn’t comprehend her hesitation.
“It’s a privilege to serve in a royal family!” he said.
“But I don’t want to go,” she replied. “I’m happy here in the Philippines.”
“Why? What is your work here?”
“I’m a factory worker, and I’m happy with that,” she said.
“Don’t you want a higher salary?”
“No,” she answered. “I don’t need more money. I’m happy.”
The secretary insisted that the prince had chosen her and that no one else would do. And he already had her passport ready. Feeling great pressure, Crisanta finally agreed to go. Soon she was in an airplane on her way to Saudi Arabia.
But the farther she went from home, the more frightened she became. Terrified, she wondered if it was all a cruel joke. “I couldn’t believe they would get some unknown girl from the Philippines to work for a prince!”
Then came the shock of being led into the prince’s palatial home. Crisanta had never dreamed of such wealth. There she met the beautiful nineteen-year-old princess (one of the wives of the prince) and her two-year-old daughter, who was to be Crisanta’s charge.
The child spoke only Arabic. “How can I talk to your daughter?” Crisanta asked the princess in English. “I cannot speak Arabic.”
“You must learn,” the princess answered. Crisanta, who had graduated from college, began to study Arabic with a tutor. Within three months, she spoke it so well that the prince asked her to teach Arabic and English to his daughter. He raised her pay because she was now to serve as tutor—as well as nanny.
It didn’t take long for Crisanta to become accustomed to her new lifestyle. “I felt like a princess,” she says. “I didn’t have to wash or iron my clothes, or cook, or do anything except teach and care for the child.” She was chauffeured in a luxurious car. She ate rich food—often at a long table with the prince, his wives and children, and the other nannies. She spoke almost daily with the prince about his daughter, her grades, and her development.
Crisanta was paid well. She sent money to her family, and they upgraded their humble Philippine home. She also learned to spend money on herself. Soon she had many new dresses, expensive jewelry, and other luxuries. “I wanted everything, so I bought it,” she says. “And I didn’t buy cheap things!”
After three years, Crisanta returned home to the Philippines for a month’s vacation. There she found that her parents and two sisters had joined the Church, and she agreed to listen to the missionaries. But after four discussions, she told the missionaries that she wasn’t feeling anything and didn’t want to continue. “Because of my luxurious life, I didn’t think I needed a spiritual life,” she says. But for some reason, she decided to take the Book of Mormon and Church pamphlets back to Saudi Arabia with her.
As Crisanta was reentering Saudi Arabia, the airport officials found the Book of Mormon in her luggage and told her it was illegal to take the book into the country. “I showed them the letter attached to my passport,” she says. “It said I could bring back whatever I wanted.” The officials telephoned the prince. He asked to talk with Crisanta.
“Is that book really important to you?” he asked. She replied that it was. He gave his permission.
That night, Crisanta started reading. She noticed that the missionaries had marked certain passages in the Book of Mormon, particularly Moro. 10:4–5. “I started getting interested,” she says. “And I realized that in order to understand all these things, I must ask God. So I prayed about it. Every morning, I felt challenged to read that book, and every day I made time to read it. I realized that it was really helping me spiritually. I felt that I was nearer to God and that my life was different now.”
Crisanta wrote home excitedly, telling her family of her growing testimony. They sent her a tape recording of their family home evening, complete with hymns and testimonies. Crisanta was especially moved by the testimonies of her mother and father. “They uplifted my spirit, and I cried and cried,” she says.
Before a year had passed, she wanted to go home again to learn more about the gospel. But the princess refused to give her any time off, reminding Crisanta that she had recently had a vacation—and the she had promised to stay for three more years.
“So I asked the prince for permission,” she says, “and I really cried.” The prince gave in, but he told her she must return after one week. As a guarantee that she would return, Crisanta could take only four dresses with her. The rest of her new clothes and all of the other possessions that she had earned during her years in Saudi Arabia had to stay behind.
Back home in the Philippines, Crisanta met with missionaries again. “I told them that although I hadn’t been interested before, I felt different when I read the Book of Mormon.”
During their second visit, the missionaries asked her to pray. “I felt a warm feeling in my heart—and then I started to cry and couldn’t continue my prayer for a while. I felt all my sins, and I realized the happiness that I had known since reading the Book of Mormon. I felt that I really am a daughter of Heavenly Father, that I really am important to him. After my prayer, I told the missionaries that I wanted to be baptized immediately.”
They replied, “No, Sister, we have to continue the discussions.” She was baptized a few days later, on 9 April 1988.
From that moment, Crisanta lost interest in her life of luxury in Saudi Arabia. “I felt that I had something to do here in the Philippines,” she says. “The longer I stayed here, the happier I felt. I was happy because I had learned the importance of life—not only here, but also hereafter. I had learned that the family is important. And I had found that I must put God before anything else—that I had to serve him.
“I had also learned that money cannot make me happy. In Saudi, I cherished all the luxuries. But when I joined the Church, I realized that those things are void—they are nothing to me. Everything I do in the Church gives me more joy than those other things I had. So I had to sacrifice those things.”
After a few days, the prince telephoned her from Saudi Arabia, saying that she must return because the baby was waiting for her.
“I want to extend my vacation,” she told him.
“But we want you back,” said the prince. “The baby wants you back.”
“And I really miss the baby,” Crisanta said. “I want my job. But I feel I have a job here to do.”
“What is it?” the prince asked.
Crisanta then told him that she wanted to serve a mission for the Church—and that she wouldn’t be able to return to Saudi Arabia for two years. Convinced that she was serious, the prince released her from her commitment. “You can come back to Saudi Arabia after two years if you want,” he said. “But the princess cannot wait for you.”
A month later, Crisanta received word that the prince had hired another nanny. The new nanny and Crisanta corresponded several times, sharing news and insights about the baby. “The little princess was always asking when I was going to come back,” she says.
At home, Crisanta served as a Primary teacher, as Primary president, and as a stake missionary. She worked in a bank to earn money for her mission. “If only I could bring back all that money that I spent before!” she says. “Oh, I had a lot! I was crazy before—really crazy!”
Exactly a year after her baptism, Crisanta received her endowment in the Manila Temple. Two months later, in June 1990, she received her mission call. She is currently serving—in her native Philippines.
People ask her why she would give up so much for her mission. “I tell them I’m happier now than before.”
“Is it that good?” they ask.
“Yes, it’s that good,” she tells them.
What are her plans after her mission?
“I want to go where Heavenly Father wants me to go,” she says. “If he takes me again to Saudi Arabia, that’s what he wants for me.”
But she isn’t sure. “I have already had a luxurious life and all the things that go with it. When I had a lot of money, I didn’t know God, I didn’t know Jesus Christ, and all I wanted was to buy everything I liked. But I came to realize that those things are not important to me. Other things are more treasured, more valuable.
“Now I want a simple life,” she says. “I want to serve Heavenly Father. I want to be loved by him. I want to love him.”

Lanny and I never talked about religion. He was a Catholic, but his family only went to church at Christmas and Easter. He knew I was a Mormon, but for the last few years I’d been less and less excited about it. And Lanny knew better than to bring it up.
But one Saturday, the winter when we were 16, almost 17, something changed all that.
I was walking back from the store. My little brother, Tom, was behind me. He was tired and was kicking snowballs the plow had left along the middle of the road.
“Move it,” I told him.
“I um,” Tom whined deeply, his nose full. He looked up at me and gave me a pathetic smile. I rolled my eyes but bent down, and he ran and jumped onto my back. When we turned down our road, I began to jog. Behind me, my brother laughed and covered my eyes with his wet gloves.
“Hey!”
We spun and landed in a yaffle [a jumble] in the slushy snow in front of Lanny’s house.
“Huh, huh … huh, huh, huh,” Tom laughed.
That’s when I noticed them—a couple of bikes leaning up against the side of the O‘Briens’ house. It was strange. Who would ride bikes in one of our rare snowstorms? Then I noticed two figures in the O‘Briens’ window. Two guys in dark suits. Familiar faces.
Then it hit me. The missionaries were in Lanny’s living room, standing in front of the fire to warm themselves like they belonged.
“Cum onnnn,” said Tom. He was standing a couple of yards away, flapping his arms up and down.
“Yeah, yeah.”
I pulled myself away from the window, and we trudged the last few meters home.
On Saturday nights, Lanny usually stopped at my house and we’d wander down to the town building where they’d play a movie or have a dance. That night he knocked about seven o’clock and I grabbed my coat. We dug our hands in our pockets and walked outside. Since it was too early to be seen at the dance, we headed down toward the harbor.
The wind had been blowing in snow from the island all day, and it was dumped in little drifts in front of every one of the blue and yellow houses. But as we crunched along, the wind began to die and the beginnings of a fog started moving in from the ocean.
Lanny began whistling between his teeth. He couldn’t whistle very well, and he only did it when he was nervous.
“You ever get sick? I mean really sick?” he asked me.
That’s how Lanny McDonald O‘Brien started out most conversations—with a question about something he’d been thinking up all day. He was always thinking, always wondering about something.
“You ever see me go to the hospital?” I asked him back.
“I guess not.”
“Then you know the answer.”
We walked a little more before he said, “I was just thinking I could be a doctor one day.”
“I guess. I could see you cutting people up, taking out stuff, charging them lots of money.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I could do that.”
We walked a bit more, thinking about Dr. Lanny McDonald O‘Brien, until he said, “Those Mormon guys came over today.”
“Hmph.”
Lanny took a glance at me, to size up my mood, then added, “Said your parents sent them.”
That ticked me off and he noticed my face redden. “My parents sent ’em?”
“What they said.”
“I’m gonna … Gosh, I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “I don’t care. Didn’t bug me.”
We rounded the fence at the bottom of Main and jumped the ballycater [an icy fringe] at the edge of the dock. Under our feet, the snow hadn’t settled on the rough boards, and we took two to a step. Farther along we walked into the cold ocean fog that hung like a veil. We were alone. No one came out on the dock on a winter night.
“They want to come back again,” said Lanny.
“Who?”
“The missionary guys.”
“They always do,” I said. “That’s their job: to come back and back until you join.”
“Join what?”
“The Church. The Mormon church.”
“Nah, they didn’t say that,” said Lanny. “They were just visiting.”
I laughed. “One of those guys is from the States. You think he came to Wolf Point to talk Maple Leafs hockey with your dad?”
Lanny shrugged.
“What part of the States?” he asked.
“I don’t know. They give you a lesson?”
“I guess. They talked a lot.”
“They teach you how to pray?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s the first discussion. They want you to join,” I said.
“Hmmmm.”
We reached the end of the pier and leaned on the rail—the same rail that one winter Lanny had licked to see if his tongue would really stick to frozen metal. It did. And for a month Lanny had talked with a lisp.
We stared out at the icy water, but it was too dark and the fog was too thick to see much.
“Okay, I got a question,” said Lanny, nodding his head.
“Always.”
“The Mormon guys said the Book of Mormon is like the Bible. I know that’s not right ’cause it says at the end of the Bible that there isn’t supposed to be anything added to the Bible.”
We had talked about that in Sunday School once, but I couldn’t remember the answer. “Well … um …”
“And they told us about the guy who said he saw God and started the Mormons.”
“Joseph Smith.”
“Yeah, I thought it was Brigham Young. Anyway, how does anybody know he didn’t just write the book himself?”
“Well, there were a bunch of witnesses who saw the plates he wrote it from,” I said.
“Yeah, they were probably Mormons too. Do you guys pray to him?”
Lanny kept asking questions, most of which I couldn’t answer. My first instinct was to defend the Church. But he was my friend. I should tell him how I really felt: that I wasn’t even sure if I believed anymore, that I was kind of embarrassed to be a Mormon.
I drew in a breath, ready to tell him everything … but I couldn’t. From somewhere inside I felt the need to do something I hadn’t done in a long time—say a prayer.
I opened my mouth to say something, but I didn’t have the words.
Okay, I thought, I’ll pray.
So as Lanny talked I silently told Heavenly Father that I didn’t know if the Church was true or not, and I didn’t really know what to say.
I waited a few seconds. No answer.
I opened my eyes. Lanny had stopped talking and was looking out to the harbor. He was squinting, trying to focus on the dim lights of a trawler that was bobbing in and out of view in the fog.
I don’t know why, but I guess that was the moment when everything started making sense.
Lanny needed the gospel, just like I did. We were young. Our lives were confusing. The gospel would answer questions we both had about where to go, who to become.
This time, as I opened my mouth, I felt a peace that I hadn’t felt since I was a kid. “At church once, some old guy told a story,” I began. “It’s about a kid who’s 18 and goes to work on a fishing boat out of St. John’s. And sometime in the summer of his first year on the boat it hits a sandbar and sinks. Most of the crew climbs aboard the lifeboat, but this guy and the captain get caught by a current and pulled away.
“They don’t have life jackets or anything, and for a long time they just tread water—hoping for someone to find ’em.”
“Wow,” from Lanny, who had been on enough fishing boats to know how big the ocean was, and how impossible it would be to find anyone swimming in it.
“Anyway, finally the captain realizes that the water’s too cold for them to last much longer, so he swims over to the kid and says ‘We’re not gonna make it.’ And he asks the kid if he’s religious. Well, the kid is just like me. He’s a Mormon, but he’s been kind of goofing off and it’s been a while since he’s been active. But he says he’ll say a prayer for ’em.”
“And what happened?”
“He and the captain close their eyes, and the kid says a prayer out loud … And when they open their eyes they see the light of a buoy. They swim over and hang on, and a few hours later they are found.”
Lanny smiled. “And the guy telling the story turns out to be the 18-year-old kid, right?”
“Uh, no. The guy telling the story was the captain. He joined the Church.”
“Hmmm.”
I pulled my hands out of my pockets and stuffed them back in again, not sure what to say next. I was feeling guilty for my years of goofing off, for not being able to answer Lanny’s questions. But somehow I knew it wasn’t too late.
“You said the missionaries told you how to pray. Did they say a prayer too?” I asked.
“Yeah, but no one was drowning.”
“Wise guy. How did it make you feel?”
“I don’t know, didn’t think about it.” He looked out to the ocean and breathed out. “Okay, maybe I thought about it.”
I turned to him, my eyes wide. “And?”
“Before I left tonight I prayed by myself.”
That night, instead of climbing in bed, I opened my desk drawer and pulled out my copy of the Book of Mormon. I flipped through the pages. They were filled with red and yellow highlighter, but I realized it had been a long time since I’d studied what was in there.
It was a story. It was a light in the darkness.
I began to read.

An observant husband served in two important ways. He relates:
“I was assisting my wife one Sunday with her Primary class full of energetic seven-year-olds. As Primary sharing time started, I noticed one of the class members huddled on her chair and obviously not feeling well. The Spirit whispered to me that she needed comfort, so I sat by her and quietly asked what was wrong. She didn’t answer … , so I began to sing softly to her.
“The Primary was learning a new song, and when we sang, ‘If I listen with my heart I hear the Savior’s voice,’ I began to feel the most incredible light and warmth fill my soul. … I received a personal testimony of our Savior’s love for her … and for me. … I learned that we are [the Savior’s] hands when we serve the one.”
Not only did this Christlike brother notice the need to help his wife with a class full of energetic seven-year-olds; he also gave individual service to a child in need. He followed the Savior, who taught, “The works which ye have seen me do that shall ye also do.”

When the typical teenager makes a “to do” list, it often includes homework, classes, Church activities, and a social life. But what if you added practices and games for three sports into the picture? Then it would be completely full, right? No room for service or volunteer work?
You won’t convince Blake Moore, a priest in the Forest Green Ward of the Utah Ogden Weber Heights Stake. Blake has received national recognition for his athletic skills, but he still feels service is a top priority. In fact, his dedication to service helped him to receive his latest honor, the High School Heisman Award.
In the United States, the Heisman Award is given to the best collegiate football player each year. A few years ago, a similar award was started for high school athletes. But the selection committee wasn’t just after the best football player. They were looking for a well-rounded person—someone who did well at school and was involved in his or her community. They found what they were looking for in Blake.
How does he fit it all into his busy schedule?
“You have time for what you make time for,” he says. “I don’t get it when people say they don’t have time for things. Everyone has the same number of hours in the day.”
Much of Blake’s service began through the Scouting program. In fact, for Blake’s Eagle project he organized a book drive for St. Ann’s homeless shelter and focused mainly on gathering children’s books.
But Blake’s service doesn’t end with his Eagle project. He is the area chairman for the American Cancer Society. He collects cash donations from people living in his Ogden neighborhood to be used for research and publicity. He is also the youth representative on the Utah state committee for the March of Dimes. He volunteers at a homeless shelter and a local hospital, and he also contributes his time and muscle to Habitat for Humanity.
Athletically, Blake has done it all. He is the captain of the football, basketball, and baseball teams. He also carries a 4.0 grade point average and is the senior class president.
Trying to get Blake to talk about his successes is like pulling teeth. But he finally admits that he has tried to be a well-rounded person—not just a student or an athlete. One thing he does emphasize is that it is “cool” to serve. “I want others to know that it is not nerdy to do service,” Blake says. “How could it be? Service is the best thing to do.”
Blake points out his flaws as if he is uncomfortable with all the recognition of his strengths, but he is not hesitant telling about the role his family has played in his life, where he is the youngest of five children. “The examples I’ve had in my life have really helped me. I learned from my brothers and sisters how to handle situations and leadership responsibilities. They’ve given me a lot of guidance.”
Two of his siblings are currently serving missions. “My brothers and sisters are my heroes. I owe so much to my family.”
The Moores believe this award is more than just honoring Blake. “We really feel that the Lord had a hand in it,” Blake’s mom, Leslie, said. “We hope this will further His work as kids see a good, moral person being honored.”
“Many kids that get this much attention would be ruined by it,” said Blake’s dad, David. “But Blake is the same person in all aspects of his life, on and off the field, in and out of the spotlight.”
Blake sincerely loves others, especially children. “I think it’s because I never had little brothers or sisters,” he says. “I really like getting to know the neighbor kids. I can see that they really look up to me. Children look up to athletes for role models, whether the athletes deserve it or not.”
The two national winners of the High School Heisman, one young man and one young woman, were selected based on three areas: athletics, academics, and community service.
Blake plans to attend a university for one year before serving a mission. “When I get back from my mission, I’ll have to decide how far to go with sports. I’ll pray about that decision.” Blake plans to use his love for people and his academic talents to be a pediatrician.
But no matter what the future holds, Blake will always make time to help others. “Nothing feels better,” he says smiling, “not even playing sports.”

Born with a genetic defect in the joints which affected his ability to walk, Mark Powell has learned to face obstacles and achieve in ways that have surprised many.
Mark, a deacon in the Dallas Fourth Ward, Richardson Texas Stake, started playing the piano to exercise his fingers. Through hard work, he became proficient. Encouraged by school contests in composition, he began composing pieces for other contests. His piece, called “Dinosaurs,” for piano and synthesizer won the elementary division of the Music Teachers’ Association contest. He has also composed a piece called “Running Free” for two pianos, which also placed in composition contests.

Theresa also has had a special experience. Soon after she was baptized, Theresa began preparing to go to the Tokyo Temple to perform vicarious baptisms for her deceased ancestors, who did not have the opportunity to receive the fulness of Christ’s gospel in this life. Through the efforts of those around the world doing indexing of public records, and with help from ward members and the missionaries, Theresa was able to find long lost information about her father, who died when she was young. This was such a blessing, as many family records were destroyed by bombings during wars in Sierra Leone. The database was updated just before her baptism. She was then able to prepare his name, her grandmother’s, and others to receive baptism and other temple ordinances.

I knew we are all supposed to share the gospel, but I had never had any success. Then, during a Spanish course I was taking, I met a young man named Tiago. We became friends and often walked home from school together. One day we passed an LDS chapel that had recently been built.
“I have been a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for several years,” I said. I shared with him some of the things that we believe, and I told him how much my family and I have been blessed because of the gospel. I invited him to attend meetings that coming Sunday at 9:00 a.m.
Sunday arrived and I anxiously waited, but he did not come. During the week, I invited him again. This continued every week for two or three months. He always gave me a reason why he hadn’t shown up: “I slept late,” “I was tired,” “There were problems.” But I kept asking him anyway, and he didn’t seem to mind.
One Sunday morning I sat down on one of the benches toward the back of the chapel. There were still a few minutes to go before the meeting began when someone quietly called my name. I looked toward the door, and there was Tiago!
“Didn’t I promise you I would come one day?” he said. He attended sacrament meeting and, to my surprise, stayed for the rest of the meetings and seemed pleased when I introduced him to the missionaries. He began meeting with them regularly. Tiago and I continued to talk as we walked home from school, but our conversations were about the truths he was learning. I was able to answer questions and bear my testimony. Finally, he gained a testimony of his own and joined the Church.
Today I am a full-time missionary in the Brazil Santa Maria Mission. Before I left for the mission field, Tiago also submitted his application to be a full-time missionary, and he is now serving in the Brazil Manaus Mission.
I recently received a letter from him. “Thank you for inviting me again and again to come to church,” he wrote. “I will be eternally grateful.” I am happy not only to share the gospel each day but also to know that Tiago is doing the same.

Why do I say that? Here’s one reason: I knew a boy who faced an unexpected and challenging decision. He faced it at the end of the summer in the year he turned fifteen. He had just returned home after working all summer on his uncle’s farm in another part of the state.
It was the first sacrament meeting he had attended since returning home. For some reason, he was detained a few minutes after the meeting. When he found his friends, they were standing in a group just outside the church building. As he approached, he noticed that they were concluding some kind of agreement. When he joined them, he was met with a seemingly innocent question: “Are you going in with us on it or not?”
“On what?” was his reply.
“On a half gallon of beer.”
That answer really shook him. He was not ready for it. His group had always been good kids. This question was completely out of character, he thought. But things were not as he remembered them. He had spent his summer away from his pals, and this had kept him more or less as he was. Something, however, had happened to change his friends. They seemed more grown up and worldly. This surprise made him falter before answering their question. It’s strange how many things can go through your mind in a flash: These were his friends. They were not enemies. He knew each one well. He had sat in Primary and Sunday School classes with them. They had sung songs together. Some of them had been ordained deacons the same Sunday. They had passed the sacrament together scores of times. Their school activities had brought them close. With some of them he had built toy airplanes and scooters and played rubber guns. They had hiked and worked and played together. Why should this simple question threaten this choice association?
Pressure from friends and acquaintances our own age is tremendously powerful! There is a desire to want to be “one” with friends. Besides, who wants to be a sissy, afraid to join in the fun. What’s more, if he didn’t join them, he would be one against the crowd.
But even with all of these ideas running through his head, another idea impressed itself even harder on his mind. There was one reason that stood out against all that seemed so appealing: It was not right. From somewhere within him came the courage to say, “No, I don’t think I will.”
The group turned away and strode across the street toward the beer hall, intent on carrying out their plan. My friend was left standing—alone. I’m sure he did not think of the Lord’s statement, “It is not good for man to be alone,” but he certainly understood its meaning in a new and personal way. He came to understand the truth of that statement in the days that followed and to see why all of us need true and loyal friends who believe and live as they should.
Even though he was fifteen—going on sixteen—tears came to his eyes as he walked home. His mother, sensing that something was wrong, asked, “What has happened?”
He blurted out the short experience.
“You’ve done right, my son” she reassured him.
“I wish I were as sure as you are,” he answered.
“You made the right decision,” she repeated, “and you’ll see. You will be blessed.”
The days that followed this incident were not especially happy ones. It took readjustments to establish his equilibrium. There followed a process of establishing new friendships. There was the inevitable heartache at school when conversations would grind to a stop as he joined his former group. There were moments of loneliness as he walked between the high school and the adjacent industrial arts building. What was formerly spontaneous fun and youthful sport changed to a subdued good humor. There were some obvious moments in basketball practice, too, when he would be in the clear and call for the pass, only to be ignored while another person was sought out to receive the ball.
But that all passed as everyone knows it will. Time is the great eraser. It dulls the former sad moments. It smooths hurts and salves wounds.
It was not long until former friendships were reestablished, although on a different basis than before. In a little more than a year, this young man was elected seminary studentbody president. The next year he was elected high school studentbody president by his friends. Two years later he entered the mission field, the only one of his class to do so. One classmate went on a mission the following year, but his other friends never did.
This young man has since fulfilled many calls to service and responsibility in the Church. Other tests of his integrity and moral standards have come into his life—as they come into the lives of us all. But few such tests have been so well-remembered or have made so lasting an impression on his life.
In a rather undramatic situation, he chose the right. And his mother was right, as mothers generally are. Her promise was literally fulfilled: “You’ll see. You will be blessed.”

My scripture study would have to wait. All three of our sons had awakened—and much earlier than usual. The youngest, Caden, then 18 months old, was screaming in his crib. I went into his room and saw instantly that he was sick.
Thus began a Monday of one challenge after another. At one point, shortly after I had changed Caden’s clothes and tried to feed him, he flung a large jar onto the floor, spilling applesauce everywhere and sending shattered glass across the kitchen. As I was cleaning up the mess, I thought about all the things I wasn’t getting done: family history, service, home storage, missionary work.
“How in the world can I do everything I know I should be doing when I am barely managing the basic tasks of my day?” I wondered. By early evening I was exhausted, but I set aside discouraging thoughts during dinner, family home evening, and the boys’ bath and bedtime routine.
Finally, with the children in bed, I sat down to do what I had not had time for earlier. I picked up the May 2006 Ensign, which was open to a talk by President Henry B. Eyring titled “As a Child.” My eyes fell on a passage I had previously marked: “To keep the blessing of [changed natures] in our hearts will require determination, effort, and faith. King Benjamin taught at least some of what that will require. He said that to retain a remission of our sins from day to day we must feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the sick, and help people spiritually and temporally” (Liahona and Ensign, May 2006, 17).
Immediately, I again felt that I wasn’t living the gospel fully. I wondered, “How can I feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the sick, and help people spiritually and temporally when I can scarcely take care of my own family?”
That’s when I experienced an overwhelming feeling of divine approval. It was so clear, precise, and tangible that I knew I had to write it down so I wouldn’t forget. I could see my day replay in my mind—full of feeding the hungry, doing laundry to clothe the naked (I changed Caden’s outfit multiple times), gently caring for our sick baby, helping our five-year-old prepare a family home evening lesson on missionary work, and then discussing the power of example with my family—in other words, helping people spiritually and temporally.
The impression flowed with such an overpowering feeling of peace that I knew the Lord was telling me He had accepted my offering. In caring for my family, I was fulfilling the admonitions of King Benjamin and President Eyring.

Rubén Alliaud was 14 when he left his home in Argentina to spend a year with his uncle in the United States. His father, Rubén Reynaldo Alliaud, had died earlier, and Rubén was developing “a rebellious spirit.”
His concerned mother, María, sent him to Houston, Texas, to live with her brother, Manuel Bustos, and his family. She asked one condition of her brother’s family: “Do not share your Latter-day Saint beliefs with my son.”
The spirit of the gospel, however, spoke to the struggling teenager. He observed how the Church united the Bustos family through prayer and service, and he couldn’t help but notice the numerous copies of the Book of Mormon on the shelves of his room.
Curious, he pulled down a copy and discovered Moroni’s promise that he could know through prayer that the Book of Mormon is true.
“That promise touched me,” says the newly called General Authority Seventy. “I wanted to read the book.”
He took Moroni’s promise to heart, received an affirmative answer, and told his surprised uncle that he wanted to be baptized. Uncle Manuel immediately sent Rubén back to Argentina to ask his mother’s permission. He was soon baptized. Since then, the restored gospel has anchored Elder Alliaud’s life.

Two years passed. One day I asked Roberta if she would travel with me to the city of Foggia, where I was to receive my patriarchal blessing. She agreed to go, mostly because she hadn’t been on a trip in a while.
While Roberta waited in another room, Brother Vincenzo Conforte gave me a wonderful blessing. Afterward, I was so caught up in the Spirit that I completely forgot about Roberta, who must have been feeling like a fish out of water as she waited for me. But Brother Conforte noticed her. When he learned she was not a member of the Church, he humbly knelt by her chair. Looking into her eyes, he bore a sweet and powerful testimony. God truly lived and loved her, he testified, and she could come to know Him through simple prayer.
That testimony touched Roberta’s heart. And it completely changed the way I thought about sharing the gospel with others. With that simple gesture, the patriarch taught me how to be a true witness of God.
Since I had this experience, many of my friends have come into the Church. My friend Roberta is even considering studying the gospel. And I have learned something I will never forget: Whenever we testify of the Savior and His gospel, we must do so with love.

This story took place in Argentina.
Francesco sat on the sofa next to the window. He lined up his toy cars on the windowsill.
“Time to read scriptures,” Mamá said. Francesco and his brothers and sisters gathered in the living room. Mamá opened her Book of Mormon.
Francesco listened as Mamá read the story of Abinadi. He was a prophet who tried to teach the people. But they didn’t listen.
“Wasn’t he brave?” Mamá asked. “He had an important message from Jesus Christ to teach the people. And he didn’t stop trying!”
Francesco nodded. He imagined Abinadi teaching the people.
“Do you remember what will happen next week?” Papá asked.
“Yes!” Francesco sat up tall. “General conference!”
“That’s right,” said Mamá. “At general conference we can listen to our prophet.”
Suddenly they heard a sound from the street outside. “Today I have pumpkins, bell peppers, and tomatoes!” a loud voice called out.
Francesco knew that voice! It was Ramón, the fruit and vegetable seller. Every day he drove his truck down the street, telling everyone what fruits and vegetables he had to sell. He used a loudspeaker so people could hear him from inside their houses. Then they could go outside to buy food.
“I also have apples and tasty bananas!” Ramón’s voice called out.
That gave Francesco an idea. “Mamá! Prophets are like loudspeakers!”
“What do you mean?” his sister asked.
“Jesus uses the prophet to share His words, just like Ramón uses the loudspeaker. That way everyone in the world can hear Him!” Francesco smiled big.
Days passed, and soon it was time for general conference. Papá set up a projector so they could watch conference on the wall. It was kind of like a movie theater!
Mamá made chocolate chip cookies to eat while they watched. They were all excited when it was the prophet’s turn to speak.
“Get on the covenant path and stay there,” President Nelson said.*
“I want to do that!” said Francesco. “But how?”
“You’re already doing it.” Papá smiled. “You followed Jesus Christ by being baptized. And now you can stay on the covenant path by trying to follow Him every day.”
Francesco grinned. He wanted to follow Jesus Christ. And he could do that by following the prophet!
How can you follow the prophet?
Illustration by Carolina Farías

Thirty-five youth from the Huntington Beach North California Stake danced their way down Main Street in the Huntington Beach Fourth of July parade. A crowd of 250,000 lined the two-mile parade route.
The LDS youth performed dances they had learned for a special dance festival held in the Rose Bowl. They already had bright colorful costumes for the dance festival which served double duty as the performers wore them in the parade. One observer was heard to say, “You need sunglasses to look at this group.”
Their float won first place in the youth division. The float consisted of a large flatbed trailer, decorated to resemble the Huntington Beach pier. Most of the youth rode on the truck doing their dance continuously for over an hour. Some danced in the street and greeted the spectators with handshakes and hugs.
Stake President Wesley Woodhouse told the youth shortly before the parade, “It is wonderful of you to ‘let your light shine’ and to share the months of effort that have gone into learning your dance.”
The youth were hot and tired at the end of the parade route but exuberant about the experience of giving of themselves to their community.

Photographs by Mark Davis
Ever dream about your future career? You know, what you’ll do when you head out on your own, become an adult, and realize it’s time to earn your own living? And what do you want to do when you get there? Fly planes? Create video games? Play professional football? How about acting in movies? How about making your own movies?
That’s exactly what Kamila T. of New York, USA, 16, hopes to do. That’s why she’s enrolled in a school of art and design. Kamila doesn’t just like watching movies; she loves making them too. But she knows that if she wants to make a living at it, she’s going to have to learn a few things and get to work right now. No matter how young you are, you can start thinking about your future. As it says in For the Strength of Youth, “Set high goals for yourself, and be willing to work hard to achieve them” ([2011], 40).
Kamila’s love for making movies started when she was 12. “My friends and I used iMovie on a tablet to make funny movies,” she said. “I became interested in it then. I started making films for my school and really enjoyed it.”
Pretty soon Kamila decided she wanted to pursue film in high school. But most high schools don’t have a strong film program, so she started looking around.
She explained, “When I originally heard about the school of art and design, I didn’t want to go. But my dad wanted me to. He has a lot of friends who are in film, and he thought it would be a good decision for my career. He said it was the best school for film. So I visited the school to check it out and really liked it.”
Liking the school was one thing, but getting accepted was another thing altogether.
“I had to audition in front of the teacher,” Kamila said. “It was really hectic, because I had to create two storyboards [outlines of her film ideas] to present. I wasn’t prepared on the first day like everyone else, so I had to go on the second day. On the way there we got a little lost, and I was late. My mom told me not to worry and to call my dad. I did, and he said a prayer with me over the phone. It was nice.”
Kamila calmed down and presented her storyboards. The result? She was accepted into the program, and she just started her third year there.
For Kamila, studying film has been amazing. Recently her class created a public service announcement for a competition. Experiences like that have helped her see what she can achieve.
But going to her school also comes with sacrifice. It’s an hour and a half commute each way. Plus, “All the other kids in my area go to a normal high school with football fields and other sports,” she said. “My school is different because everyone’s interested in the arts. But going there has also prepared me for things in life. I know how to take the train and how to get around on my own.”
At the same time, Kamila knows that making a living as a filmographer—especially for one holding LDS standards—can present challenges. So she’s kept her mind open to other interesting options.
“In English class we learned about psychology, and I really liked it,” she said. “My mom is going back to school, getting a minor in psychology and a major in teaching. So she shares with me what’s she’s learning. I still want to follow film, but psychology is my backup. Or finding a way to combine film and psychology would be great.”
Kamila is developing her gifts and talents for a career and independence—and a future family. “I hope to get married in the temple and be a mom one day,” she said. “I believe that by developing my talents like psychology and film, I would be able to have more open communication with my family.”
As prophets have counseled: “Heavenly Father has given you gifts and talents and knows what you are capable of achieving. Seek His help and guidance as you work to achieve your goals” (For the Strength of Youth, 40).
For other youth trying to figure out their goals and future plans for education, jobs, and family, Kamila had this advice: “Follow your dreams. Do what most interests you. It’s not a status thing or an obsession—it’s doing something you’ve always wanted to do, the thing you really want to be in the back of your mind. You can do it!”