Gospel Story Finder

The talent concert gave them the perfect opportunity to prove that. Take Amy Ravsten, a 17-year-old from Garland Third Ward, for example. When she heard that the young women in her stake would be performing, she offered to teach the girls in her ward a jazz routine she’d learned at cheerleading camp. A real sense of camaraderie developed as six girls of varying aptitudes worked together to perfect the dance.

For gymnast Kim McCauley, a 14-year-old from the Rockwall Ward, “someday” began when she was a toddler. She was walking at six months, running at eight months, and by the time she hit three, her parents decided they’d better find a way to channel her energy, or they’d be exhausted in the chase. They enrolled her in gymnastics classes, and today, she not only is a top competitor on her high school team, but she also uses her talent in her spare time to teach gymnastics classes for small children.

Instead of waiting for “someday” to take time to really get to know and enjoy the rest of her family, 12-year-old Stephanie Smith of the Dallas Fourth Ward learned a family talent that would send them touring the state and the country. The family took up clogging, a misleading term for a high-energy form of tap dance. Through it, she learned all about keeping in step with the rest of the family. “It’s really helped us with our unity,” she says. “Although it’s sometimes hard to get everyone together to practice, we feel a real closeness when we perform.”

“Someday I’ll be a great piano player … when I have time to practice,” is a foreign phrase to Susanna Olsen, who proved that she already has mastered the instrument. She dashed off a Rachmaninoff opus as if she’d written it herself. Members of the Richardson First Ward know that they can come to Susanna whenever they need an accompanist. She’s more than willing to oblige them.

Sherry Blanpied, a 13-year-old from the Richardson Second Ward, had no intention of waiting for “someday, when I’m good enough,” to display her dramatic talents. She performed a monologue right after winning first place with the same piece in a school competition held earlier that day.

These girls and many more were able to shower the stake with their talents. And for those who had talents that were not easily displayed on stage, such as soccer finesse or computer programming, their “someday” in the limelight came when they performed in one of three song and dance routines choreographed to include every girl who wanted to join in.

The conference theme came to life as the girls prepared for the concert. The price they paid to realize their dream of a successful show was a lot of time and effort. They passed up parties and various other school activities to meet a grueling rehearsal schedule, and some even missed going to their high school football games. That’s practically unheard of in Texas, where school spirit is as high as a lone star in the sky.

The girls in Dallas are just like most young women everywhere. In their spare time, they like to get together to talk and watch video movies, they like to go to dances, eat Mexican food, and go horseback riding. They’re especially proud of their new temple, and they go to the visitors’ center frequently. But in preparation for the conference, they put most of their other activities on the back burner and concentrated on “paying the price” to make it a dream come true.

Michelle DeMarco, 13, of the Richardson First Ward, even gave up a part in a school play to participate in the conference. Michelle, who lives and breathes theater, insisted “it was worth missing the school play to come to this. I’ve really enjoyed being together with everyone here.”

Michelle’s mother was right there supporting her from the rehearsals through to the actual production. “My mom has helped me with everything,” said Michelle. “She’s always making me feel good about what I’m doing, and she’s always there to lift me up.” That’s the way it is with many of the mothers in the Richardson Stake.

“We just can’t stand by on the side of the river and watch these young women try to maneuver the rapids by themselves,” said Linda McCauley, who spearheaded the conference. Sister McCauley had three daughters involved in the day and feels that she needs to “jump on the raft with them … to share their experiences so they don’t float so far away and become strangers.”

Some mothers and daughters in the stake are so close it’s even hard to tell them apart. They share jokes, clothes, and friendships. They were more than willing to help with the other parts of the conference by spending long hours decorating for the elaborate luncheon and pulling together the programs, speakers, and handouts for the educational part of the day.

The informative portion’s purpose, according to Sister McCauley, was to “provide the girls with a positive, uplifting experience where they learned about their responsibilities to Heavenly Father, to themselves, and to others.”

These responsibilities were brought home to the girls during a multimedia presentation starring many familiar faces. Advisers had taken the time to interview some of the girls and discuss how they could pump the most from their talents.

A video clip was shown of Rebecca Duehring, a 15-year-old from the Rockwall Ward, gliding across the ice during one of her many intense ice skating competitions. Rebecca’s struggle to be a competitive skater hasn’t been easy. She was born with brain damage that limited her coordination and space perception. She could barely walk, was constantly falling, and had broken nearly every bone in her body. Then she took up ice skating, which, for some reason she can’t explain, helped her gain her coordination.

Although it takes more time and concentration for Rebecca to perfect her routines, she’s right up there with the best in town and dreams of one day going to the Olympics. “Sometimes I can feel that Heavenly Father is behind me, and I go for the top,” says Rebecca.

The girls were also treated to talks, workshops, and presentations by people who had paid the price to reach excellence. “Commitment is more than desire,” stake president Larry Gibbons told them in his speech. “Commitment implies action.” And in other workshops, the girls learned just what kind of actions they’d have to take to be successful in different aspects of their lives.

They were shown the literal prices they’ll have to pay when the time comes to support themselves. They shuddered as they saw just how far an average, 40-hour a week job paying $5 an hour would take them. After paying tithing, taxes, rent, food, gas, transportation, insurance, and utility bills, they’d be in the hole about $2,000 per year.

“This has really started me thinking about what I want to do,” said Ruth Vigil, 16, of the Richardson Third Ward. “I hadn’t really set any goals for my future occupation, but now I realize that I’ll have to.” Ruth is musically talented. She sings and plays the piano and is now thinking about ways to incorporate those talents in a future occupation.

“We wanted to help the girls change their lives and get moving into some sort of direction,” said Connie Riska, stake Young Women president. “They need to make some of their decisions now and not wait until they graduate from high school.”

The girls realize that not all of them will go on to become working women. “My ambition is to have ten kids. six cats, and five gerbils,” jokes 16-year-old Tami McCauley of the Rockwall Ward. Just in case her dream comes true, the conference helped her to realize that the experience she’s gaining now by helping her mother take care of her nine brothers and sisters is invaluable.

Tracy Rico, 17, of the Garland Third Ward, had her feeling reaffirmed that if she’s going to meet her goal of entering into the medical profession, it can’t hurt to start learning now. That’s why she’s working as a “sports medicine trainer” at her high school.

The girls were encouraged to think about their future goals in preparation for a very special fashion show that was also part of the conference. Each young woman either made or coordinated an outfit to wear, and as they were escorted down the runway, their achievements and dreams were capsulized by the emcee.

Amanda Wilson, 15, of the Richardson First Ward, was right in her element during this part of the day. Her mother began teaching her to sew when she was seven years old, and now you might wonder who is teaching whom. Not only did Amanda sew several outfits for the fashion show, but she designed them as well, making her own patterns.

Amanda is refining her talents now so that one day she can major in fashion merchandising and hopefully have her own designing business. But in the meantime, she uses her abilities by sewing for ward members.

Short-term goals were also met via the fashion show. “It was great because my mom and I worked together on my outfit,” said Jennifer Beckham, 15, of the Rockwall Ward. “We took a whole day to go pick out the material, and as we cut it out and worked on it, we just talked about all sorts of things. It was really nice.”

That feeling of unity and understanding seemed to characterize the day. Most people were a bit surprised when Melissa Lane, 13, modeled her outfit as it was announced that one of her major goals was to become a member of the Church.

Melissa later explained, “My aunt is a member of the Church and I live with her now. She lets me go to church, and it really makes me feel good. I’m starting to read the Book of Mormon, and my aunt is letting me subscribe to the New Era. My special friends here have helped me with my testimony, and this conference has too.”

Most of the girls agreed that the friendship they cultivated by sharing their talents with each other was one of the best parts of the conference. Many of the girls go to different schools and don’t have the opportunity to get together often. “I’ve grown so close to the people here,” said Tova Carter, 14, of the Garland Fourth Ward. “We learned that if we put our minds to something, we really can accomplish it.”

An elaborate luncheon, a fashion show presented by a local designer, and minimusical concerts performed by local professionals and local Suzuki violin students all added to the day as the young women struck it rich in Dallas.

The girls might not be able to buy expensive sports cars and luxurious wardrobes with the wealth they gained by tapping the well at their conference, but deep in the hearts of the young women in Texas, they know they struck something far more valuable.

My sister, just older than I, set for me a very powerful example. For many years, she had been the main caregiver for my brother-in-law who had multiple sclerosis and whose body had come to the point that he required almost around-the-clock care. One day, my sister was not feeling well, so she went for an appointment with her doctor. Stomach cancer was diagnosed. It had spread from her stomach to her liver and other abdominal organs. It was inoperable, and she was told that she likely had a very short time to live. She never returned home again. During the weeks she was in the hospital, her temple recommend expired.

When it appeared that she had just a few days left to live, while visiting with her Latter-day Saint cancer specialist she said, I would like to be buried with a current temple recommend.

He replied, I don't think they use them over there.

Nevertheless, she answered, I want to be buried with a current temple recommend.

Her bishop and stake president came and interviewed her. She passed away a few days later and she was buried with a current temple recommend.

With that example, I hope and intend to do the same. I always want to live in such a way that I will be able to look my bishop and stake president in the eye and answer their questions honestly and appropriately. I always want to have in my possession a current temple recommend, and, as we are counseled by our leaders, to use it as frequently as circumstances permit.

Sometimes we make poor choices when we yield to peer pressure. Kieth Merrill had such an experience when he was a young man. He and his friends were diving from sheer rock walls at the East Canyon Reservoir, northeast of Salt Lake City. It inevitably turned into a teenage contest when one young man climbed up to the top of the dam and dived 50 feet into the deep water of the reservoir. The rest of the young men all went to the top of the dam and made the same high dive. One boy wasn’t satisfied with that, so he said, “All right, I’ll do one better!” He climbed 60 feet up the side of the cliff. Not wanting to be outdone, Kieth climbed up beside him. After the other boy had dived into the water and seemed to be all right, Kieth took courage and made his dive. The contest was now down to these two boys. Kieth’s friend then climbed up to 70 feet and dived. He came up from the water laughing, rubbing his shoulders and his eyes. He then challenged Kieth, “Well, are you going to do it?”

“Of course I’m going to do it!” And everybody on the shore said, “Of course he’s going to do it!”

So Kieth swam back to the shore and climbed up the rocks. He knew if he jumped from the same height of 70 feet that his friend would want to go higher, so he scrambled up 80 feet to the very top of the cliff. No one could go any higher than the top. As Kieth looked down, he was terrified to see the water so very far away. He had made a rash decision. It was not what he wanted to do nor what he felt was right. Instead he had based his decision on the prodding and dares of a half dozen young men whose names he cannot now even remember.

He backed up and ran as hard as he could toward the edge. He found the mark he had carefully laid at the edge of the rock and sprang out into space. On the way down he remembered his parents teaching him to be careful when making decisions because a wrong one could kill him. And now he thought, “You have done it, because when you hit the water you’ll be going so fast that it might as well be concrete.” When he hit the water, it even felt like concrete. How grateful he was when his head finally popped above water.

Why did he jump? What was he trying to prove? The young men who dared him didn’t care and probably don’t even remember that foolish act. But Kieth realized afterward that he had made what could easily have been a fatal decision. He had yielded to the pressure of friends expecting him to do what he didn’t want to do. He knew better. He said: “I was living in the world, and at that moment I was of the world because I was not in control of myself. I was not making decisions about my own life. The world made the decisions for me, … and [I] had barely avoided being in the world about six feet deep.”

Jake stared unhappily at his Primary teacher while she gave the lesson. He knew that she didn’t know that he was upset, because she kept smiling at him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his teacher. The problem was that he didn’t like the lesson. It was about how we can follow the prophet. The more she taught, the sadder he became. Finally he raised his hand and asked, “Why do they always want us to do such hard things?”
Sister Roper looked confused. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
Jake sighed deeply. How could he explain it? “I just don’t know why we have to do so many hard things. How are we supposed to follow the prophet? We’re not big enough yet.”
“Well, yes, you are,” Sister Roper told him. “Jesus even said that all of us should try to be like little children, so you must be able to do things right.”
Jake looked at the other children in the class. They didn’t seem to know what he meant, either. “But it’s just too hard to remember everything,” Jake explained. “And I can’t do what older people do.”
Sister Roper thought for a minute, then said, “I think I know what you mean, Jake. And if you listen really closely, I’ll tell you a story that might help.”
Jake and the other children shuffled in their seats for a moment until they were comfortable. They liked to hear Sister Roper’s stories.
“Is it a true story?” Jake asked.
Sister Roper nodded. “A few years ago, when my son Micah was your age, we had a similar lesson in Sharing Time. We were talking about how we can follow Heavenly Father. The counselor in the Primary presidency had a big banner in front of the Primary room. She told the children to raise their hands when they thought of a way to follow Heavenly Father. Then she would write their answers on the banner.
“The children began giving wonderful answers, like ‘Read your scriptures’ and ‘Say your prayers’ and ‘Be a good example.’ Micah raised his hand, and when the counselor called on him, he said, ‘Brush your teeth.’”
Jake laughed with the other children in the class. “How can that show that you’re following Heavenly Father?” he asked.
Sister Roper was laughing, too. “You know, I think we all wondered that. I thought that Micah hadn’t been paying attention. Poor Micah! Everyone was laughing, and I could tell that he was really embarrassed. He looked like he was ready to cry. I know that he was sorry that he had raised his hand.”
“Did everyone stop laughing then?” Lisa asked.
“Well,” Sister Roper went on, “there were still a few snickers, but almost everyone stopped. The great lesson that I learned that day came when the counselor said, ‘Very good, Micah. We do show Heavenly Father that we love Him when we take care of the bodies that He has blessed us with. I’m glad you thought of that.’
“No one was laughing while she wrote ‘Brush your teeth’ on the banner. I looked at Micah, and he was happily beaming. I was glad the counselor had helped both him and the rest of us see that his answer really was correct.”
“But does that really show Heavenly Father that we love Him?” Jake asked.
“Absolutely,” Sister Roper replied. “That’s what I learned that day. We don’t have to make following Heavenly Father by following His prophet’s counsel something hard. It’s as simple as brushing our teeth. We just obey and do what’s right. They don’t ask us to do anything that we can’t do. It’s really simple—just obey.”
“But what if he asks us to do something hard?” Jake was still worried.
Sister Roper cocked her head to one side as she carefully thought how to answer. “If you study it over in your mind, I think you’ll find that there isn’t anything really hard that we are asked to do. Is it too hard to say nice things? Or go to church? Or pay our tithing?”
Jake thought for a minute, then shook his head.
“I think you’re right,” Sister Roper said and smiled. “Following the prophet is like brushing our teeth in another way, too—we need to remember to do it.”
Jake sighed happily. He felt as if a heavy backpack had been lifted off his shoulders. He was grateful to learn that following the prophet wasn’t a problem. “Teacher?” Jake raised his hand as another thought came to his mind.
“Yes, Jake?”
“Does that mean we follow the prophet in lots of little ways? You know, doing little things like picking up a pencil someone drops, or answering the telephone politely, or waving at our neighbor?”
“That’s a great question, Jake,” Sister Roper told him. “What do you think?”
Jake thought for a minute, then nodded. “I think ‘yes.’”
“And I think,” Sister Roper concluded, “that if we start with little things and keep working and working at it, whatever the prophet asks us to do will be simple. Even if we are asked to leave our homes and move to the desert, like the early Saints who went to the Salt Lake Valley in Utah, we can do it. If we follow the prophet with the little things and take a step at a time, we can always do it.”
Most of us think that the price of discipleship is too costly and too burdensome. … But [it] is not as heavy as it appears to be because we acquire through obedience a much greater strength to carry it:
“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” (Matt. 11:28–30).
What is the cost of discipleship? It is primarily obedience. … It is a price worth paying, considering that the great promise of the Savior is for peace in this life and eternal life in the life to come. It is a price we cannot afford not to pay.President James E. Faust, Second Counselor in the First Presidency (Ensign, April 1999, page 4.)

Whatever Ricardo does, he does with enthusiasm. This eight-year-old from Santo Domingo in the Dominican Republic plays baseball with the energy of a professional. He joins his friend and his brother to race toy trucks or stage an imaginary battle between dinosaurs. He gets excited when his mother invites him into the kitchen to cook tostones (fried plantains).
It takes time to make his favorite treat, tostones, but Ricardo thinks it is worth every minute. He and his mother carefully peel and slice the plantains, which look like bananas but are not sweet. They fry them in hot oil, let them cool, and carefully pat them dry. Then comes Ricardo’s favorite part. He places each slice in a wooden press and smashes it flat. Then each slice is fried again. He particularly likes to eat tostones with sausage.

On another occasion, I shared a hospital room with a delightful woman in her eighties who had broken her hip. Despite her intense pain, she was determined to walk again and was full of faith and optimism. A few weeks after the hospital stay, I took my daughters to meet this good woman and her husband. We had a wonderful visit. They told us many stories of faith and love for the gospel. Now, four years later, the girls still retain an impression of the faith, joy, and love that comes from growing old in the gospel.

“Okay, I’m going to need your full name for these records. Last name?”
“Trent,” I answered, sounding a little cocky. I was proud of my last name. I had ancestors involved in all sorts of historical events. James Trent was one of the first men to found Virginia; there was the Council of Trent that reformed the Catholic Church; and there’s also a street in England bearing my last name. Trent. What a great name, I thought to myself as the secretary typed it.
“First name.”
“Jared,” I answered with even more pride. I had created a name for myself at school. I was the crazy kid, or—my personal favorite—“Ask Jared, he can answer anything.” I wondered if the secretary knew how wonderful my name was. She was, after all, typing it in bold print.
“Middle name.”
“M,” I answered as if the question wasn’t even worth an answer.
“Come on now, Jared. I need to know your middle name, not just your initial.”
Now was the hard part, disclosing my middle name. She wasn’t going to buy my middle initial trick. I was trapped.
“Moroni,” I said quietly.
“Could you spell that for me.”
“M-O-R-O-N-I.” I was growing uneasy.
“Hmm, that’s an interesting middle name. Is it Italian?”
“No, it’s a religious name.”
“Odd, I don’t remember ever reading about any Moroni in the Bible. At any rate, let’s finish this so you can start work.”
I didn’t know then why I was embarrassed by the name. It just seemed so odd to me. No one I knew, not even any of the people in my ward, had a name from the Book of Mormon. I remember once receiving a letter addressed to Jared Moron Trent. One slip of the computer, leaving off the last letter, and I was Moron.
Then, one day in seminary, my teacher asked us if we had ever read about Captain Moroni. I knew who the Angel Moroni is—the one whose statue stands on top of the temples. But I had never read the Book of Mormon, and so I had never heard of this captain guy. All I knew was that he shared my name. Then my teacher told us about the bravery and brilliance of Captain Moroni. He had invented armor for his soldiers at a time when armor wasn’t heard of. He protected entire cities and used military techniques far more advanced than some used today. He was a genius. I kept reading.
The next day my teacher asked the class if anyone knew what my middle name was. Most didn’t because I hadn’t told many people. Then she asked me to tell the class. After I did she explained that my parents had named me with an unusual name to help them share the gospel. In Saudi Arabia, where I was born, it is illegal to discuss other religions unless people ask about them. So my parents had named me, hoping that people would question the origin of my name and that would lead them to discuss the Church. I was completely surprised. I hadn’t known I had been a missionary when I was born. I was not only named after a great general, but the angel that helped to restore the gospel.
I no longer wanted to hide my middle name. I realized that the importance and nobility of it far surpassed my first and last names. I say it now with pride, explaining to people the origin of it, and why it’s such a wonderful name. I no longer think of it as one letter away from meaning idiot, but as one step away from achieving celestial glory, as the two Moronis of old did. I only hope that I might live up to its greatness.

It was in China that Aleisha Cramer got the answer to her prayers. The answer was simple yet hard to do at the same time. She was supposed to give up her lifelong dreams, go home, and live the life of an average college student. The answer surprised her, but she was willing to do the things the Lord told her to do.
Aleisha Cramer, from Lakewood, Colorado, had made it to the top as a star soccer player. She had reached most of her goals, working her way up to become a member of the United States national women’s team, giving her a chance to play in the World Cup and the 2004 Olympics.
She had it made. But it wasn’t making her happy.
“I had everything,” said Aleisha. “I had a good family. I had friends. I was going to school at BYU. I was playing really well for the national team. But would I keep working towards making the World Cup team and still feel this emptiness?”
Then, while in China to play exhibition games, Aleisha woke up one night crying. She felt a wonderful warm, comfortable feeling. “I remember putting my hand on my heart, and then I just had all these thoughts: ‘You need to quit the national team. It’s not okay for you to break the Sabbath day. It’s okay for you to take a different path. Things will work out.’” She describes being filled with the Spirit and having the experience repeated several nights in a row.
Although she had been a member of the Church her whole life, Aleisha’s interest in the gospel had been increasing. She was reading her scriptures at least 30 minutes every day, and she had noticed that her prayers were changing. She was asking the Lord what He wanted her to do. And in China, she received her answer.
“I’ve never had those feelings before, the comfort and the warmth. I wish I could have those experiences every time I have questions. Everything seemed so clear. It made so much sense.”
Aleisha acted on the inspiration she received. She said, “When you get inspiration, you have to follow it right then. If I had said, ‘Yes, that’s right. But I really want to play in the World Cup, so I’ll do it after that,’ then things may not have worked out like they were supposed to.” So before she left China, she told the national team coach and her teammates that she would be quitting. Aleisha appreciated their response. “I told some of the players that this is what I believe and that I wanted a more balanced life,” said Aleisha. “They said it was awesome I could do that, and if it made me happy, they were happy for me.”
Giving up soccer on the highest levels was going to be a big change. Soccer had been part of Aleisha’s life practically since she was born. Her older sisters and brother had all played soccer and basketball. Aleisha was particularly interested in soccer because of her older sister Chrissie’s success in the game. Growing up, Aleisha had progressed until, while trying out for a regional team, she was selected for the U-16 (under 16 years old) national soccer team.
“I called my mom and told her I made the team. She said, ‘You did! I didn’t know you were that good.’ She was completely shocked. That was the first time I realized that I might be good.” Aleisha then progressed to the U-18 and U-21 national teams until she was selected for the women’s team. She also earned an athletic scholarship to BYU.
Playing soccer is fun for Aleisha. “It’s the best when you are in shape and you feel like you can go forever. Some games you have so much energy. You just run and feel like you’re floating.”
And competing in a sport has been a good chance to learn. Aleisha said, “It’s great to try to be good at something. I’m all for developing and becoming better at whatever you’re doing as long as there’s balance in your life. I’ve learned a lot of good things. Just learning how to work hard and learning to be unselfish and being excited when someone else scores. Playing your best and playing hard, that’s great.”
She also learned about the downside of competition. “I don’t like some of the feelings I get from being competitive. It’s okay to try to do your best, but sometimes when you’re focused on beating your opponent, you just get angry. I want to be my best, but I want to focus on working hard. Competitiveness to an extreme can be harmful.”
Aleisha plays center midfield. “That’s like the quarterback. Center midfield dictates the tempo of the game and creates opportunities for people to score. The center midfielder is known as the playmaker.” But after her experience in China, Aleisha was more than willing to execute some new plays in her life.
Not being on the national team gave Aleisha time to try some new things. Her grandmother taught her how to crochet. She had time to go snowboarding. She started learning to cook, and she wanted to learn to play the guitar. “A friend said, ‘Oh, I have a friend who can teach you how to play.’”
And that started the biggest change of all in Aleisha’s life. She met a musician, Chris Rose, who was not at all like the young men Aleisha had dated in the past. In fact, at first she looked right past him. But then they started hanging out together, then dating, and now they’ve been married in the temple for a little over a year. “I am sure that I was prepared for this change by what happened in China. I gave something up and got something way better,” Aleisha says.
Her goals for soccer have changed too. She’ll finish up her last year on the BYU team; then, one day, she hopes to teach her own children a few of the moves that got her to the highest levels of the sport. She still wants to work hard, but now it will be working hard for her own family.
The playmaker is listening to the greatest coach of all, her Heavenly Father, the one who can help guide her and give her direction and inspiration. As Aleisha said, “The Lord knows each of us. For me that’s so good to know and have a testimony of.”

After learning of the deaths of the Prophet Joseph and the Patriarch Hyrum, Wilford Woodruff reports his meeting with Brigham Young, who was then the President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, as follows: “I met Brigham Young in the streets of Boston, he having just returned, opposite to Sister Voce’s house. We reached out our hands, but neither of us was able to speak a word. … After we had done weeping we began to converse. … In the course of the conversation, he [Brigham Young] smote his hand upon his thigh and said, ‘Thank God, the keys of the kingdom are here.’”

Father plopped a stack of books on the table and announced, “Tonight for family home evening we are going to write our testimonies in a Book of Mormon. Practice first on a piece of paper. Then, using your best penmanship, write your testimony on the inside cover, and sign your name. We’ll glue one of your school pictures underneath it, and tomorrow I’ll give the books to the bishop to donate to the missionaries.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Mother. “Maybe what we write will spark somebody’s interest in the Church and help to convert them. Let’s put our address under the pictures, too, and maybe someone will write back to us.”
Tyler and Christi eagerly grabbed a piece of paper.
“I’m going to explain about the priesthood and how I was ordained a deacon,” Tyler said.
“I’m going to write about our family and how we can be together forever,” said Christi.
Kevin just sat and stared at his paper.
Soon everyone except Kevin was busily writing. Several minutes later Mother stopped and said, “What’s wrong, Kevin?”
“Nothing,” he mumbled.
“Can’t you decide what to say?” Father asked.
Kevin shook his head.
“Maybe you could write how the Church has a living prophet,” Mother suggested, “or how we read the Book of Mormon every day as a family and how that helps you to make right choices.”
“Yeah, I guess I could,” Kevin said. He stared at his paper some more. What could I say that would help anybody? he wondered. Who would ever believe what a seven-year-old had to say?
Kevin thought about his next birthday. It was four months away, and he would be baptized then. An idea began to form in his mind, and he started to write. Several times he wadded up his paper and threw it away, but he kept at it.
Everyone else had finished writing and was eating cookies when Kevin finally started copying his testimony on the inside cover of his Book of Mormon. When he finished, he reread it one last time. It said:
“My name is Kevin Richards. I am seven years old. Soon I will be eight. When I turn eight, I will be baptized by immersion as Jesus was. My father will baptize me and confirm me a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I believe that this is the true church of Christ. If you read this book and pray about it, Heavenly Father will tell you that the teachings in it are true. Then you can get baptized too. Please write and tell me how you feel when you read this book.
Sincerely,
Kevin Richards”
Satisfied, Kevin carefully glued his picture underneath it, wrote his address, and added his book to the stack.
“All finished?” Father asked.
“Yes,” answered Kevin. “Boy, that sure was hard!”
“Sometimes trying to express your feelings is hard,” agreed Father. “But sharing your testimony will not only help someone else learn about the Church. It will also help your testimony grow stronger.”
“Is that why I feel good now?” Kevin asked.
“I’m sure it is. And when someone gets your book and reads what you wrote, maybe he will get that good feeling too.”
Each day after school Kevin eagerly raced to the mailbox, hoping to find an answer from the person who received his Book of Mormon.
But it was Christi who squealed one day, “An answer! An answer! I got an answer!” And three days later both Father and Tyler got a letter.
“My letter came all the way from Mexico,” Tyler bragged.
Tears welled up in Kevin’s eyes. He crept upstairs to his bedroom and lay on his bed.
There was a knock on the door. “May I come in?” asked Mother. When Kevin choked out an OK, Mother went in and sat down beside him. She sat in silence for a few minutes, then said, “You’re really disappointed to not get an answer from somebody, aren’t you? Do you want to talk about it?”
Kevin hesitated, then sat up and wiped his tears away with the back of his hand. “What if the person who gets my book laughs at what I said? What if he thinks that I’m stupid? What if he thinks that a kid doesn’t know anything, and he decides not to read my book?”
Mother gently put her arms around Kevin. “No one would laugh. He’d know that you’re very sincere and that you care about him. And children can often touch people’s hearts in a way that grown-ups can’t.”
“Then why haven’t I gotten an answer?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure that there is a good reason. Maybe the missionaries just haven’t found the right family to give your Book of Mormon to yet. And whether we like it or not, just because we bear our testimonies doesn’t mean that the people who receive them will accept them. No one has written to me yet, either, so let’s just hope that we’ll still get letters. Sometimes it just takes a while.”
That night when he went to bed, Kevin prayed, “Dear Heavenly Father, please help the missionaries to find the right person for my Book of Mormon. Bless him not to laugh at what I wrote. Bless him to read the Book of Mormon and get a testimony. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Days melted into weeks. Finally it was Kevin’s baptismal day. Just before lunch, Christi came running into the house, yelling, “Kevin! Kevin! Look what the mailman just brought.”
Kevin took the envelope Christi was waving and quickly tore it open. It read,
“Dear Kevin Richards,
Please forgive that I take so long to write. My name is Tuilolo Tuiaaga. I live with my wife and four children in Pago Pago on Samoan island called Tutuila. One day your missionaries came. I was busy in my bakery and had no time to listen. But my wife listen and keep your book and read it.
Then bad time came to my family. My bakery burn down. Our sick baby got sicker. Doctors try hard, but poor baby Sina die.
My wife say God loves Sina. God loves us. She say He cares. I get very angry. I yell, ‘If He love us, why bakery burn? Why Sina die?’
One night I hurt bad inside. I not sleep. I sit in darkness. By chair was your book. I want to burn book. I pick it up. I see your picture. I read what you write. Then I read and read and read in book. Is hard to read in English for me, but I read till morning. I read again what you write. The Spirit tells me what I read is true. I believe. I wake my wife. We cry and pray. I pray that God forgive my anger. Peace comes to my soul.
Soon will be our family baptism on 30 August. We are very happy. I thank you for sending Book of Mormon.
Peace to you, my brother,
Tuilolo Tuiaaga”
That evening, on August 30, as Kevin came out of the waters of baptism, he whispered, “Peace to you, Tuilolo. Peace to you.”

I have one such story in my legacy. Grandmother Eyring learned from a doctor in his office that she would die of stomach cancer. My father, her oldest son, had driven her there and was waiting for her. He told me that on the way home she said, “Now, Henry, let’s be cheerful. Let’s sing hymns.” They sang “O My Father” (Hymns, no. 292) and “Come, Come, Ye Saints,” where the last verse begins, “And should we die before our journey’s through” (Hymns, no. 30).

I wasn’t there, but I imagine they sang loudly—they didn’t have very melodic voices—with faith and no tears. She spent part of her last months in the home of her oldest child, her daughter. Aunt Camilla told me that Grandma complained only once, and then it was not really a complaint but just to say that it hurt.

Now, there are many people who have been cheerful and brave in the face of death. But it means far more to her family when the person has taught and testified of the power of the Savior to succor, of the sureness of the Resurrection, and of the hope of eternal life. The Spirit confirmed to me that Grandma’s peace and her courage were signs that her testimony was true, and because of that, all was well, all was well.

“You only get to be Annie once in your life,” said Candice Payne, emphasizing her statement with a shake of her short blond hair, now dyed red. “My mom dyed my hair for me for the play,” she said ruffling it with her fingers. “But I think I like it better blond.” Even while she’s sitting still, energy seems like a compressed spring in her slim frame. Someone bustles in with the message that the curtain goes up in ten minutes. Candice turns to the mirror. Even though she is just 11, she applies stage makeup to highlight her eyes and darken her lashes with the expert strokes of a professional. Her costume for the first act is the baggy dress and sweater of an orphan. The curly wig and distinctive red dress needed to create the character of Little Orphan Annie hang nearby.
Candice played the part of Annie six nights a week for more than a month before sold-out audiences in Salt Lake City. She gave up a lot for the chance to star in one of her favorite plays. She had to forego a chance for a movie and a television series, but it was worth it. She always wanted to play the little red-headed girl that sings about hope and looking forward to tomorrow.
Performing in public started when Candice was three in her hometown of Arcadia, California, where she and her family still live. The stake president called Sherma, Candice’s mother, to ask if three-year-old Candice would speak in stake conference. It was to be a tribute to grandparents. Her mother wondered if she had heard right. Surely the stake president didn’t want Candice. He must have meant nine-year-old Tasha who was well-known for her public speaking abilities. But no, he asked for three-year-old Candice.
Sherma remembers Candice’s first public performance. “She learned her talk and prepared to sing ‘In My Grandmother’s Old-Fashioned Garden.’ She always had a good memory if she could sing it. The day of stake conference came. It was a huge crowd stretching all the way to the back of the hall. Candice got scared. When it was her turn, she climbed onto the stool in front of the podium. She put her hands beside her eyes like blinders, so she wouldn’t see the people. She just froze. I stood beside her to help, but it was no use. Finally, I said, ‘Just sing your song.’ As soon as the music started, she put her hands down and sang.”
Candice soon got over any stage fright. She joined a group of little girls that performed in the stake. “I love dancing and singing,” said Candice. “It always came easy to me, and I like it.” And people love watching her perform.
For Candice, the sheer joy of dancing, moving, stretching, acting, performing, is something that motivates her life. She likes to do things well. “I remember going to a birthday party for one of my friends. They had hula hoops at the party, and the others were really good at it. They could keep the hoop twirling and could do some tricks with it.” Candice tried the hoop and it kept slipping off her hips and clattering around her feet on the ground. Frustrated but determined, she marched home and asked her mother if they could buy a hula hoop. “I was going to learn how to do it. I kept practicing until I was good at it.”
Candice has natural athletic ability which shows in her easy movements on stage and in dance. It also shows up in school activities. “Weren’t you one of just a few of your sixth grade that qualified for the Presidential Medal for Physical Fitness?” asks her dad, Barton. Candice grins and nods yes. “Wasn’t it just you and three other boys that qualified for the medal?” her dad asks again trying to remember the details. Again, Candice smiles and nods. This energy and ability also translate well into her performing routines.
“People kept telling us to get her in show business,” said Candice’s mother. “We’d hear that time after time. But no one told us how.” Candice joined a professional performing group, and the Paynes were introduced to an agent who accepted Candice as a client. She was featured in a dairy drink commercial. A television producer saw her perform and wanted her to try out for a part in a proposed television series. She got the part. She was approached about auditioning for a movie.
Then the opportunity to play Annie was offered to her. Candice had wanted to play the spunky orphan ever since she had seen the play. Shortly after attending the play, she had a bad case of flu, and while she was recuperating she would lie on the couch in the front room and listen to the tape of the music from Annie. “I listened to that tape over and over and learned all the songs,” said Candice. “I wanted to be Annie more than anything.”
Even though Candice can really belt out the melodic theme song of the play, her particular favorite is the opening number that she performs with the other girls in the orphanage. With the enthusiasm of a typical 11-year-old, Candice said, “I like the song ‘It’s a Hard Knock Life’ best because we get to jump on the beds and have pillow fights.”
Did Candice have any difficulties while playing Annie? “The worst time was when the dog that was playing Sandy was supposed to come to me. Instead it just ran off the stage, and I had to run after it and bring it back onstage for the rest of the scene,” she said. “Then there was the night that the dog thought the microphone was a mouse and started batting it with his paws.” Aside from the dog coming up with the unexpected, the play was a rousing success as the critics and nightly standing ovations acclaimed.
Candice’s parents wonder about where Candice’s talent may lead. Her mother said, “I don’t feel like we as parents have the right to deny her the opportunity to develop her talents. But on the other hand, we don’t want her talent to create false values and expose her to things in life that would be detrimental.”
Candice has already had to face a situation where she was asked to perform a song which had lyrics she objected to. In her performing group, her director told her to just not sing the objectionable part and join in later. Candice chose instead to sit out the entire number backstage. “It was completely her decision,” said her mother, Sherma. “I wasn’t even there when she made the choice to stay out of the number.”
Candice is the youngest of five children. Her older brother, Bart, and three sisters, Dawney, Julie, and Tasha, are proud of their little sister. She’s been performing for them since she was old enough to walk and talk. And as Candice finishes playing Annie, she is like the little heroine of the play, secure in the folds of a loving family, with a talent for entertaining others, and just thinking about tomorrow.

The unique qualities possessed by these men and women whom I have mentioned can be of invaluable assistance to us as we face the problems and the trials which lie ahead. May I illustrate by mentioning the experience of the Jerome Kenneth Pollard family of Oakland, California.

This past May, as Elder Taavili Joseph Samuel Pollard was traveling to the mission office on the last day of his mission in Zimbabwe, the mission car he was driving somehow spun out of control and hit a tree. A passerby was able to rescue Elder Pollard’s companion, but Elder Pollard, who was unconscious, was trapped in the car, which burst into flames. Elder Pollard perished. His mother had passed away eight years earlier; hence, his father was rearing the family alone. A brother was serving in the West Indies Mission.

When the news of Elder Pollard’s death reached his father, this humble man—who had already lost his wife—called the son serving in the West Indies Mission to let him know of his brother’s death. Over that long-distance telephone line, Brother Pollard and his son, no doubt grief stricken and heartsick, sang together “I Am a Child of God.” Before concluding the call, the father offered a prayer to Heavenly Father, thanking Him for His blessings and seeking His divine comfort.

Brother Pollard later commented that he knew his family would be all right, for they have strong testimonies of the gospel and of the plan of salvation.

President Benson’s testimony made a deep and lasting impression on a minister of that church, Father Alexander. A few years later, this minister told a Finnish member of our church, Sister Irma Airto, that of all the notable people who visited the Baptist church and signed the guest register, Ezra Taft Benson was the greatest. President Benson was visiting Russia as a high official in the United States government, but Father Alexander recognized him as a great spiritual leader. Father Alexander told Sister Airto, “When you meet Mr. Benson, tell him … that we know he is a man of God and I pray for him.” Sister Airto never expected to meet President Benson in person to convey this message. However, when he visited Finland and created the Helsinki Finland Stake in October 1977, she was able to deliver the message, strengthening her testimony that the Lord guides our affairs.

At the end of World War II, I was seated in my office in Salt Lake and received a telephone call from a man in New York, a multimillionaire who had made 30 million dollars by the time he was 30 years of age. He had a son in a military camp just outside Salt Lake City. This boy had expected to be shipped overseas, as many others had been. Then the war ended and so they were crowded into that camp, like sardines in a can. This boy was discouraged, and his father was worried about him. So he called and said, "Would you please call him on the telephone and see if you can cheer him up a bit?" I said, "Of course, I’d be happy to." And I called him and said, "Would you like to come into the office for a little visit?" And he said, "I sure would." He was a bit delayed in coming, and I was just ready to leave for home when he arrived.
I said, "Would you like to go out to the house with me and eat with the family? My wife doesn’t know you’re coming, but you’ll be welcome." So he said, "I can’t imagine anything I’d rather do tonight than that." So we went out, and we had our dinner, and we had our prayer. We gathered around the piano afterwards and enjoyed ourselves with some singing. Then after we visited for awhile, I drove him down to his bus. In a few days I got a letter from his father, and you know, you’d have thought I’d saved that boy’s life. The father quoted a letter from his son in which the son had said, "Father, I didn’t know there were any people in this world who lived like that." Yes, we take it all for granted. Here was a man worth millions of dollars—could buy his son anything that dollars could buy and never miss the money—and yet this simple thing of prayer and devotion in the home had passed him by.

In April 2006, I married Teni Leavai in Auckland, New Zealand. Although we were both members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we weren’t active at the time, so we had an intimate civil ceremony performed by my bishop. Then we began to make changes in our lives so that we could progress spiritually, more fully participate in the gospel, and embark on our journey together as a family.
Before we knew it, it was 2012. Teni and I had grown even closer and were deeply in love—it is an amazing feeling, being married to my best friend—but something significant was missing. For six years, I just couldn’t fall pregnant. I began to think I might forever be an aunt, but never a mum.
We felt so incomplete.
One evening, we received a phone call which would change our lives! There was news of an unborn baby boy and an expectant mother determined to find a good family for him.
On the night that Kahn Ui was born, his birth mother—tears streaming down her face—delicately placed him in my arms and whispered, “He’s yours now. Thank you for loving him as much as I do.”
Alert and curious, baby Kahn looked up at me, completely unaware of the miracle that had just taken place. He fit perfectly in my arms, and it is with that same ease and sense of familiarity that he also fit into our family.
My husband and I entered the wonderful world of parenthood together. We took turns feeding our baby throughout the night; we talked to him, sung to him, and shed tears of immeasurable joy as we got to know him.
We realised a profound truth in those early days. As much as Kahn needed us, we—his new parents—needed the Lord more than ever. We prayed for His guidance as we learned our new roles.
Little did we know, another miracle was in store for us.
When Kahn turned 4, we holidayed in our homeland of Samoa, where we reconnected with Kahn’s birth family. They welcomed us with open arms, and Kahn’s birth grandmother wept when she recognised him. “Your son is gorgeous,” she said. “He’s so active, and he looks like he enjoys his food, too.”
It was an emotional reunion. They thanked us for loving and nurturing Kahn—and then they asked if we had room in our lives for another child.
My husband and I were astonished.
We discovered that Kahn’s birth mother had another baby. Naree Alalafaga was 5 months old at the time and, again, her family wanted more for this child than they were able to offer.
My mother’s words echoed softly in my mind: you reap what you sow.
It wasn’t by chance we met our miracle daughter this way. The Lord knows our deepest desires, and what is best for us. So, when our reunion with Kahn’s birth family brought a precious addition—his baby sister—to our home, it just felt right.
We relocated our growing family to Australia and then, in September 2017, our family was sealed, for time and all eternity in the Melbourne Australia Temple. It was a powerful experience; one we will cherish forever.
With hearts bursting with love for our newly sealed family, how could we know Heavenly Father had yet another miracle surprise for us?
Imagine my shocked delight only three months later when we discovered I was pregnant. How could this be? We double checked the home pregnancy test—positive! We took two tests just to make sure. We both wept. I know the Lord was with me through every step of that pregnancy. I felt the love and strength of my parents, from the other side of the veil, assuring me that everything would be fine.
In the early hours of 12 August 2018, our precious little girl was born. My husband named her after his mother—Faaifomailelagi, which in Samoan means ‘sent from heaven’.
Motherhood is one of the most difficult things I have experienced, but it is by far the most fulfilling. To this day, our children continue to make us better people and better servants of the Lord. They teach us patience, forgiveness, humility and so much more.
I know that all my challenges have been for my good. When we endure our trials well and learn from them, we discover that it is never by chance that things happen, but by divine design and all in God’s timing.

Allow me to share a story to demonstrate this. Four missionaries, a senior couple, and two elders serving in Micronesia walked into the only attorney’s office on the tiny island on which they were serving. They had a problem: they needed an amendment to a birth certificate for a membership record of a girl in their branch.

Previously the municipal office had had no sympathy for their request. They had said it would be too hard, and it didn’t matter anyway since “we all know her and know when she was born!” So the city had turned down the missionaries’ request. It was suggested that the missionaries go to the only attorney’s office on the island, where they met a highly educated and deeply respected man.

The missionaries sat across from him at his desk and described their plight, to which he replied that within thirty days he would get an amended birth certificate.

At this point he stood up and walked around his desk, closed the door to his office, walked back around his desk, opened his desk drawer, and placed a worn-out Book of Mormon on his desk. Much to their surprise, he then stated, “I have been reading your book for more than twenty years, and I know it is true. It was given to me by a fellow student when I was studying in the United States.”

He handed the book to the missionaries. They each marveled at the marked-up book.

“I can’t join your church because I smoke two to three packs of cigarettes a day, my family would be devastated, and I would likely lose my job.”

The missionaries replied, “We can help.” And they did. The teaching was easy because he already had a testimony of the Book of Mormon. With some time and help, he overcame his smoking habit, which was much harder for him. And although his family was upset, especially his wife, he was baptized just months later on Christmas Day.

He began to share stories from the Book of Mormon and hymns of the Restoration with his wife. She too gained a testimony, and two months later she was baptized. Since then, most of their children have also been baptized, and this attorney has served as a leader in the branch.

The Book of Mormon is a miracle, and it brings forth miracles that lead to happiness and lasting joy.

After Oséias Portinari of Brazil was laid off at work, he spent more than two months searching for a new job. Unable to find a position, he volunteered at his local employment resource center in São Paulo. Helping others in their job searches offered Oséias an opportunity to improve his own interviewing and job search skills. He took the career workshop several times and eventually became an instructor. To his surprise, as he diligently served others, Oséias soon began to receive calls from prospective employers, which led to gainful employment.

Oséias is grateful for Church resources that give unemployed members a better vision of life. He says, “I know that as we put in effort, the Lord opens doors.”

You may have heard of Elder Green, as he has accumulated some fame during his two years of full-time missionary service as one of the first service missionaries in the UK. Despite this, he is a very humble young man.
Missionary service has had its challenges for Elder Green. But his mission has been a transformative experience, changing forever the life of Elder Green and his family.
In those two years (half of which was during the COVID-19 lockdown), Elder Green served at the Batley Food Bank. Not only did he help in the food bank, but also in the collecting of and shopping for food and items they needed. In his last year, he also volunteered at the Oxfam warehouse, in addition to his Church callings with young single adults and as a Young Men’s advisor. Oxfam have offered him a full-time paying job now that he has ended his service mission.
His greatest love was the BillionGraves project, and in his last three months he felt he could achieve the transcribing goal of 100,000 graves. When he reported at the end of his mission on 8 January 2023, he had transcribed 112,000 graves. Even though he has finished his mission, he plans to continue this work.

Janet lay in a hollow on the sand dune and watched the surfers swimming off the beach below her. There were only a dozen or so swimmers this afternoon. The gusty Australian winds whipped the stinging sand around bare legs and into eyes. Most people waited to go swimming until evening when the wind died down. Tonight the beach would be crowded with people trying to cool off from the hot day.
Janet snapped a ti-tree twig from a bush close by and swiped at the small bush flies clustering around her legs. It isn’t fair, she thought. Other people are able to go to New Zealand. I wish we could.
Her father was the branch president, but his family didn’t have enough money to go to the New Zealand Temple with those who were going there next month to be sealed as families.
“When baby Richard was born, we used the money we had saved for the trip to pay the doctor and hospital,” her mother had explained. “So we won’t be able to go with the group this year.”
Janet slammed the screen door and rushed out to the sand dunes, her favorite place to think.
There is just no place we could get the money for the trip, she decided. She knew Grandfather Turner had money, but he wouldn’t help. He had never forgiven Mother for joining the Church and marrying Daddy.
Janet loved her grandfather, even though she seldom saw him. Maybe I should visit him, she thought, as she wiped her eyes. Maybe he is just a lonely person.
Thinking about him now, Janet decided she would like to see him.
After school the next day, she walked slowly up the hill toward Grandfather Turner’s house. She was anxious to see him but she was also a little nervous.
A few minutes later, she stood on the wide veranda knocking on the front door of the big house. No one came. But Bluey, Grandfather’s cattle dog, barked furiously. Janet looked around the side of the house and saw the dog tied up in the shade of the peppercorn tree. Perhaps Grandfather was in the back yard.
Janet walked around the side of the house. “What’s wrong Bluey?” she asked. “Don’t you remember me? I haven’t seen you for a long time. Where’s Grandfather?”
Just then Janet noticed that the dog was panting by his empty water bowl. “You’re thirsty, Bluey! Grandfather must be ill, for he’d never forget to give you water on a hot day like this.” She ran back to the house.
“Help!” A voice sounded very faint. From far away it came again, “Help!”
Across the yard, through the vegetable garden, and under the jacaranda tree Janet raced. And there, sprawled in the doorway of the chicken house, lay Grandfather.
“I tripped over the jacaranda root,” Grandfather moaned. “I meant to chop it out long ago. I think I broke my hip, and I’ve been lying here since early this morning when I came to feed the chickens. I thought help would never come.”
“Oh, Grandfather, I’m so sorry,” Janet comforted, “but I’ll go for help.” She ran into the house, found the telephone, and dialed the district hospital. Speaking quickly but carefully, Janet told them to send an ambulance to Mr. Turner’s house on the top of the hill on Murray Road.
A few days later when Grandfather was feeling much better, a small family gathered around his hospital bed. Grandfather held Janet’s hand. “I never was so glad to see anyone as I was to see you, young lady. But how did you happen to come just when I needed you?”
“I was lonesome to see you and thought I’d ask you to be friends with us,” Janet replied.
“For a long time I’ve been sorry that I’ve been so stubborn,” Grandfather admitted. “But I was too proud to say so. What happened the other day showed me that I need my family.”
“A church shouldn’t divide a family,” Grandfather continued, “so when I’m all better I’ll visit your church with you.”
“That would be great,” Janet said as she squeezed Grandfather’s hand.
“Our church unites families,” Daddy explained. “We’d like to tell you all about it. We had hoped to go to the New Zealand Temple next month, where we could be sealed to each other as a family, but we aren’t able to do so. Maybe if we wait another year, we’ll have another important member of our family going with us.” Daddy smiled at them. “That will certainly be worth waiting for!”
And Janet felt a warm glow of promise.