Gospel Story Finder

It wasn’t so much that I doubted. It was just that I didn’t know.
There I was, 17 years old and an “active” member of the Church all my life. Baptized at eight. Ordained a deacon at twelve. Now in my fourth year of seminary. And I still couldn’t say “I know.”
For my good buddy Gary, it seemed so easy. We often sat side by side at the sacrament table. Almost every fast Sunday I would sense him squirming beside me. And almost without fail he would rise to his feet before fast and testimony meeting ended to bear his testimony. His voice quavered, his eyes would fill with tears, and I could feel him shaking beside me as he told how wonderful it was to feel the Holy Ghost.
I envied Gary at the same time I felt uncomfortable. His tears made me a little embarrassed for him. Still, I wished that I could feel what he was feeling. I guess I just didn’t want it badly enough then. So I continued to drift comfortably.
Then came that final year of seminary. Subject: The Book of Mormon. Focus: Moroni, chapter 10, verses 4 and 5. Our challenge was to read the Book of Mormon from cover to cover and to pray for a witness that it is true. In other words, to apply Moroni’s promise.
At first I didn’t make much of an effort. But as the school year wore on, I began to read the Book of Mormon every night, the last thing before I went to bed. And after reading, I would kneel beside my bed and ask for a witness that the book—and the Church—are true.
And still nothing happened.
Constantly in the back of my mind was Gary’s fervent, tearful testimony, his shaky voice. Also, there was the scripture in Doctrine and Covenants 9:8, where the Lord told Oliver Cowdery, “I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you.”
So night after night I knelt on that small braided rug beside my bed, said a pleading prayer, and climbed into bed to wait for that burning witness. Until, one night, I stopped in the middle of my prayer and asked myself, “Do I know if it’s true yet?”
And then it happened. There was no pillar of light. No voice. Not even the burning sensation that I had been looking for. Instead, a simple realization came into my mind.
I knew that I knew. And that was it. Calm and peaceful and seemingly unspectacular, it was all I needed at the time. I knew that I knew.
Since that time, I have become more aware of the Lord’s words to Oliver Cowdery in the sixth section of the Doctrine and Covenants: “If you desire a further witness, cast your mind upon the night that you cried unto me in your heart, that you might know concerning the truth of these things.
“Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?” (D&C 6:22–23, italics added).
Many times would follow when I felt that burning in my bosom. Or when I felt the joyful swelling in my heart that Alma describes (see Alma 32:28). But for the time being, that quiet realization was all I needed, all I had to remember. The Lord had spoken peace to my mind.

One day his aunt, a newly baptized Latter-day Saint, introduced his family to the missionaries. Soon the Liaos joined the Church. “We were active for about a year,” Domingos says. “Then my parents stopped going. I kept on for a while; then I started to play cricket on Sundays. But my conscience kept nagging me that I should be in church.”
It was at this time that Domingos’s grandfather, who lived in Melbourne, suffered a stroke. He wasn’t expected to live. Domingos, 16, felt compelled to pray. “I told Heavenly Father if he would give Grandfather a chance, I would devote my life to the Church. But I didn’t just wait for him to recover. When we returned home, I returned to church. I’ve been taught that if you say something, you should do it.”
Grandpa did get better. And by the time he did, Domingos was going to church, not just to keep a promise, but because he truly believed it was the right thing to do.

Miles practiced magic tricks at home. He did the toothpaste trick one hundred and twenty times. He did the pigeon trick one hundred and fifty times. And he practiced the newspaper trick two hundred times. He felt he was ready to perform in front of his friends.
Miles took his magic kit to school for the talent show. But when it was time for the show to start Miles was scared. He decided that he didn’t want to do his tricks in front of everyone after all, for Miles was afraid of making a mistake. He pulled his invisible magician’s hat down low over his eyes.
The first performer was a boy who played the piano.
I could never do that, Miles thought. I’d play the notes wrong with everyone watching me.
But what about Miles the Mighty? he wondered. Miles swirled his invisible cape onto his shoulders and pretended, I, Miles the Mighty, will be a piano player. Then Miles’s fingers raced along the pretended piano keys until the whole class danced on the ceiling.
Next came a girl dressed like a roly-poly clown. “HO! HO! HO! HA! HA! HA!” she laughed.
Miles shrank into his seat. I could never do that, he thought. I’d lose my stomach stuffing with everyone watching me.
But what about Miles the Mighty? he thought again. Then he waved his invisible magic wand and pretended, I, Miles the Mighty, will turn into a clown. Miles the clown performed a very funny show. The children rolled with laughter on the floor.
Miles took off his invisible hat and cape and set down his invisible wand. He was so worried that his hands were getting wet. And his feet were getting jumpy.
A boy and girl were on stage now. They did acrobatic stunts. Miles felt his stomach churn. I could never do that, he thought. I’d get all tangled up with everyone watching me.
But what about Miles the Mighty? he asked himself, thinking great magical words of encouragement, I, Miles the Mighty, will be an acrobat. He stretched himself into stupendous shapes.
Just then he heard the teacher say, “It’s your turn, Miles.” She smiled at him.
He got up slowly and picked up his magic kit. His legs were wobbling. On the way to the front of the room he got the creepy-crawly shivers. What if I do something wrong? he worried. What if everyone laughs at me? What if I left my balloon at home or my milk or pigeon or newspaper?
On stage Miles opened his magic kit. Everything was there, even his stuffed pigeon. But his legs were still wobbling.
He took out his magician’s cape and hat. When he put them on, Miles the Mighty, magically tall, looked around the room.
He showed them a toothpaste tube. He blew a whistle and out came the toothpaste all by itself. Everyone clapped.
Next he poured milk into a rolled-up newspaper. He started to spill it on the teacher. But she didn’t get wet because the milk disappeared. Everybody whistled.
For his very best trick Miles blew up a balloon. Then he popped it and there sat a pigeon. Everybody cheered.
Miles the Mighty Magician bowed in thanks to all the boys and girls, who had really enjoyed his magic tricks.

Once, while I was on a solo flight over mountain country, my airplane was suddenly engulfed in a thick cloud. I could barely see the tip of the wing out the right window. Below me, the fields, the miniature houses, and the ribbons of road wrapping up the green valley floor had vanished. A Cessna 150 has no radar, and with the familiar landmarks gone, I panicked. Was I too low? How close were the mountains? Disorientation could prove fatal.
At that instant I remembered my flight instructor’s words: “Return to remembrance of past sunshine.” I took a deep breath and coaxed the plane into a 180-degree turn. The clouds began to thin, and sunshine returned. I saw a tiny tractor below, changing a field from yellow to brown. No one heard me shout for joy.

I am not a Mormon yet, but I sometimes read the New Era. I want to say thanks for the beautiful pictures in the August New Era, especially the ones by Kris Rasmussen, because I know her. She introduced me to the Church. The first time I saw Kris she was in complete traction (her arms, head, pelvis, and legs). I was on volunteer nurse’s aid duty, and I could hear her laughing clear down the hall. At first I thought her pain pills made her laugh, but the registered nurse said that Kris refused to take pain pills. She was singing Mormon songs with four too many people in her room. She said, “Hi, Becky.” (I had my name tag on, but I didn’t understand how she could read it clear across the room.) “Come in and join us. We need another alto.” (How did she know I sing alto?) That cracked me up, so I went in, and we sang pioneer songs.
That was my favorite wing at the hospital from then on. She was there for many weeks, and we all hated to see her go. She told everybody about Joseph Smith, and if she wasn’t talking, she was listening to the Book of Mormon on cassette tapes. She always asked if it was too loud, but you could tell she wanted everyone to be able to hear it. Sometimes she would get very excited about a part of it, and then she would turn off the tape recorder and tell us about it. She liked the part about the little submarines the Jaredites made and how God made lights for them with his finger. I liked it when she told me about Christ coming to America. She took time to listen to my problems and even introduced me to a cute Mormon guy. I wrote on her body cast too.
Kris believes that God wants her to go on a mission for the Church, and I know that she will in spite of everything. She never said how much it hurt her when she was in the hospital. You could tell it did, but she’d never cry in front of anybody.
Becky FreeportLarkspur, California

Before joining the ward team, I didn’t know the other teammates very well, but as we played basketball together they quickly became my friends. In fact, all of Skip’s friends from church became my friends—the boys who played basketball and also the girls who were their age. I didn’t know how to dance, so after Mutual activities several of my new friends and I would go to someone’s basement and play old records while they taught me how to dance. I’m still not a good dancer, but they taught me enough so that I could impress Carolyn Lake, another Latter-day Saint girl. After my mission to the Gulf States, Carolyn agreed to marry me.

As a young man, I had an opportunity to serve in the U.S. Air Force as a jet-fighter pilot. Each unit in our squadron had a motto that would inspire its efforts. Our unit motto—displayed on the side of our aircraft—was “Return with Honor.” This motto was a constant reminder to us of our determination to return to our home base with honor only after having expended all of our efforts to successfully complete every aspect of our mission.
This same motto, “Return with Honor,” can be applied to each of us in our eternal plan of progression. Having lived with our Heavenly Father and having come to earth life, we must have determination to return with honor to our heavenly home.
How do we return to our Heavenly Father with honor?
Just as aircraft pilots must obey certain rules in order to avoid disaster, there are laws, ordinances, and covenants we must understand and obey as we go through this earthly life—this preparatory period—if we are to reach our goal of eternal life.
The preparatory gospel is that important part of the total gospel plan which gives us an opportunity to prepare ourselves for greater service, the ordinances of the holy temple, and eternal life.
The fourth article of faith outlines the first principles and ordinances of the gospel. They are:
“First, Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ; second, Repentance; third, Baptism by immersion for the remission of sins; fourth, Laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost.”
Elder Bruce R. McConkie, a man of great faith, said, “Faith is a gift of God bestowed as a reward for personal righteousness. … The greater the measure of obedience to God’s laws the greater will be the endowment of the [gift of faith]” (Mormon Doctrine, 2d ed. [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1966], p. 264; italics in original).
In other words, obedience to the laws and ordinances of the gospel is essential to obtain faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.
The Doctrine and Covenants stresses this very important point of obedience in a very simple way. The Lord says: “Keep my commandments continually. … And except thou do this, where I am you cannot come” (D&C 25:15).
The Lord tells us plainly, “If ye love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15).
In pilot training, we spent hours in a training device that simulated real flight. There an instructor would teach us about emergencies which could occur when flying a jet-fighter at the speed of sound. For each emergency, we were taught the procedures for avoiding disaster. We would practice each procedure over and over so that when a real emergency came, we would have developed what was called an automatic, or conditioned, response. We would know exactly what to do if the fire-warning light lit up or the panel indicated some other technical failure in the airplane. We would even predetermine the safe altitude at which we would bail out if the plane were on fire or out of control.
This training process can be compared to the lessons we learn in our homes and in the quorums of the Aaronic Priesthood—the preparatory period of our lives.
We are here at priesthood meeting this evening to learn those things which are necessary to prepare us to be strong and dedicated priesthood holders. We are preparing ourselves to take on higher laws and covenants such as obedience, sacrifice, service, chastity, and consecration of our time and talents. Why do we do this? We should learn this before we go to the temple, brethren, because afterwards it will help each of us to be valiant missionaries, caring eternal companions, and devoted fathers. We are preparing to return with honor to the presence of our Heavenly Father along with our entire families.
Following is an incident that illustrates what could happen if we do not use this preparatory time wisely.
I had a dear friend, an all-American football player. His team earned the opportunity to play in a New Year’s Day bowl game. Before 100,000 spectators and a large TV audience, his team lost by a huge score. It turned out that he and the other members of his team had not kept the training rules that their coach had tried to teach them. They paid a dear price. They had to live with the consequences of knowing they were not prepared to play the big game; they had to live with the final, very embarrassing score.
Years passed. Two members of this same football team were in my flight-training unit. One was an exemplary, well-disciplined student—a model pilot who had learned his lesson well from the failure in the bowl game.
However, the other friend had not learned to listen to those with more knowledge and more experience. When it came time for him to go to the trainer to learn emergency procedures and to precondition his mental and physical responses so that they would be automatic, even instantaneous, this all-American would put his arm around the instructor and say, “Check me off for three hours of emergency procedure.” Then, instead of training, he would go to the swimming pool, pistol range, or golf course. Later in the training the instructor said to him, “What are you going to do when there is an emergency and you are not prepared?” His answer, “I am never going to bail out; I am never going to have an emergency.” He never learned the emergency procedures which he should have mastered in preparatory training.
A few months later, on an evening mission, fire erupted in the quiet sky over Texas. The fire-warning light lit up. When the plane dropped to 5,000 feet in flames, the young pilot who was with him said, “Let’s get out of here.” And, with centrifugal force pulling against him, the young man who took his training seriously struggled to get out of the airplane and bailed out. His parachute opened at once. And he slammed to the ground. He received serious injuries but survived.
My friend who had not felt the need to train stayed with the airplane and died in the crash. He paid the price for not having learned the lessons that could have saved his life.
When fire-warning lights come on in our lives, our eternal progress may be blocked, the price we pay for neglecting the warning. If we ignore the warning lights in our lives, we may not return with honor.
Fire-warning lights of a personal nature are activated for many reasons. For example, the use of alcohol, tobacco, and drugs should turn on warning lights because, when we choose to use these substances, we become slaves; our agency is limited. We must be prepared with a conditioned response to reject them—they are harmful agents—or we will jeopardize our right to have the Spirit guide us and direct us and our ability to return to our Heavenly Father with honor.
Sometimes choosing good friends is difficult, but the important choices we make in our lives are influenced by our friends. We cannot excuse our conduct because of the actions of our friends or because of the pressure they place upon us.
Do you know how to recognize a true friend? A real friend loves us and protects us.
In recognizing a true friend, we must look for two important elements in that friendship:
A true friend makes it easier for us to live the gospel by being around him.
Similarly, a true friend does not make us choose between his way and the Lord’s way. A true friend will help us return with honor.
By applying these two fundamental principles to our selection of friends, we can determine what kind of friends we will have and what kind of friend we will be.
As Aaronic Priesthood holders, what kind of friend are we? Are we the type of friend who always makes sure that those around us know it will be easier for them to live gospel principles, such as the Word of Wisdom or the law of chastity, when they are with us? Do our friends know that they will never have to choose between what we want them to do and what the Lord would have them do?
There is nothing more heartbreaking to a bishop or a parent than to have a young woman say the young man she loved and trusted most told her that if she really loved him, she would prove it by violating with him sacred laws of morality. May we this evening resolve that when fire-warning lights of this nature come on in our lives, we will have made up our minds to do the right thing—to remember who we are and to act accordingly.
Learning your Aaronic Priesthood responsibilities well is like the experience of a student pilot when he is in the trainer. The Aaronic Priesthood holder should be preconditioned with an automatic response to keep gospel standards. He will know what his response is going to be, and the adversary will not triumph over him because he will have preconditioned himself to keep the commandments even when he is under stress.
I hope that Aaronic Priesthood holders can understand the importance of preparing, blessing, and passing the sacrament to the members of the Church. It is so important that we do so with clean hands and a pure heart. It is so important that the young men with whom we serve in the Aaronic Priesthood know we are doing so worthily and that every member in the congregation can look toward the sacrament table and trust that the members of the priesthood are worthy to perform the ordinances of the Lord.
Each Sunday, as we participate in the sacred ordinance of the sacrament, we promise three things as the blessings over the bread and water are given by a priest. In the prayer, the voice of the priest at the table is for all in the room so that each of us can renew our covenants:
First, we promise that we will always remember our Savior, Jesus Christ, and his atoning sacrifice for us.
Second, we take upon us once again the name of Jesus Christ, allowing us to renew our baptismal covenant.
Third, we promise that we will keep his commandments, renewing our covenants of obedience (see D&C 20:77–79).
If we keep these three promises, we are given one of the greatest blessings that can be bestowed upon us: that we will have his Spirit to be with us always, meaning that we will have the Holy Ghost in our lives to guide us and protect us and direct us each day.
The reason why we come to sacrament meeting each week is to renew these covenants so that we can have his Spirit to be with us and remain on the strait and narrow path that leads us to eternal life—to return with honor (see 2 Ne. 31:17–21).
I have stressed the importance of obedience. However, as important as obedience is, sometimes people are deceived and choose to be selectively obedient. A young man may recognize that he must be obedient, yet selectively do only part of what he is commanded to do.
The Lord tells us in 2 Nephi the following:
“Yea, and there shall be many which shall say: Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die; and it shall be well with us.
“And there shall also be many which shall say: Eat, drink, and be merry; nevertheless, fear God—he will justify in committing a little sin; yea, lie a little, take the advantage of one because of his words, dig a pit for thy neighbor; there is no harm in this; and do all these things, for tomorrow we die; and if it so be that we are guilty, God will beat us with a few stripes, and at last we shall be saved in the kingdom of God” (2 Ne. 28:7–8).
My brethren, this is deception, as the Lord has taught us. Wickedness—not even a little wickedness—never was happiness (see Alma 41:10). And it never will be. Wickedness prevents us from returning with honor to our Father in Heaven.
Remember, the Lord told us: “Keep my commandments continually. … And except thou do this, where I am you cannot come” (D&C 25:15).
Many young men enter the mission field having made great sacrifices. They may have had to postpone athletic, artistic, scholarship, and career plans. There may be great financial sacrifice on the part of the family. They may have even left a young lady whom they loved dearly and whom they may lose to some other young man who comes home from the mission field first.
But no matter how much an individual or family may sacrifice for a mission or anything else, unless missionaries choose obedience, consecrating all of their time, talents, and resources in the service of the Lord while they are in the mission field, they cannot fully realize all the great blessings the Lord has in store for them. But it will be much more effective if they learn to be obedient before they go to the mission field.
In order to return with honor, we need the Spirit of the Holy Ghost to be with us each day. You who hold the Aaronic Priesthood, be obedient and exercise your free agency righteously. Be worthy and be prepared to perform your calling well.
As a father, I put my arms around each of my boys as they left to serve their missions and whispered in their ears, “Return with honor.” I can picture our Father in Heaven putting his arms around each of us as we left his presence and whispering, “Return with honor.”
That we will remember who we are and be obedient to the commandments of the Lord and return with honor into the presence of our Heavenly Father with our families is my prayer, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

On a Saturday in April, Sam stopped at my house with his old wrestling shoes hanging by their laces around his neck. Dad cranked the Ford, and it fired on the second turn and sputtered to life. We all climbed in for the ride to Sparwood.
“Who you boys wrestling tonight?” asked Dad as we drove by the coke ovens on the way out of town. Cold air was rushing through the floorboards and swimming around my feet.
“Ed said he’s bringing a truckload of kids from the coast,” said Sam, turning sideways in the front passenger seat. I noticed then that he had a pack of cigarettes stuffed in his shirt pocket. Dad noticed too.
“Good,” said Dad half-heartedly. “That’ll be … er, a change.”
We nodded, waiting to see if Dad was going to talk religion. He was.
“Sam,” he said, “were you ever baptized in your church?”
“Don’t know that I ever had a church,” Sam replied. “We went to the United once, when my mom’s family was in town, but …”
Dad interrupted, “I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just our Church believes in baptism, but a lot of religions do it differently. I was just wondering how you were baptized.”
I rolled my eyes. Dad was so obvious.
“I …” Sam didn’t know what to say.
“I’m sure Jed told you all this, but when Mormons are baptized and confirmed they take upon them the name of Jesus Christ. And we believe a person must be completely immersed in water, not just a sprinkling over the head.”
Sam looked back at me. I hadn’t told him anything about baptism. I couldn’t read his face, but I guessed he was wondering where this conversation was going.
“Hmmm, interesting,” was what he picked to say.
We reached the bottom of the border pass, and Dad revved the engine to get the Ford up the facing hill. It was a steep climb, and the old car slowed to a crawl. Dad talked to it all the way up, patting it on the dashboard like a horse, and promising it a sugar cube if it made it up without quitting. We laughed. Dad was usually full of jokes, except when he talked religion.
The mountain pass got steeper just as we reached the snow line. Suddenly, a burst of steam blew from under the hood. The car shook and thumped, and Dad pulled it over to the side only a few hundred yards from the top. He shut it off and pulled the park brake. We all climbed out while Dad found his water jug in the trunk.
“Jed,” Dad said to me as he grabbed a rag and pushed down on the radiator cap, “What does it mean to take upon you the name of Jesus Christ?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Pray. Read the scriptures.” It was the answer we gave in Sunday School every week to every question. It was also the answer I gave Dad every time he asked a religious question in front of Sam.
Sam chuckled.
“Thanks for the effort,” said Dad, and he twisted the cap. We all jumped back to let the steam hiss out of the brass radiator. While we waited for it to cool, Dad asked, “Could you give it a bit more thought?”
I sighed. “It means being good. Doing stuff that you’d do in front of the Savior, if he was here with us.”
“That’s better. It also means we are representatives of the Savior on earth, which is a pretty big responsibility.”
“Why are we talking about this?” I asked, upset that Dad was distracting us from wrestling and fixing the car.
“Because I want to ask Sam something.” He poured water into the radiator slowly and then tossed the water jug back in the trunk. On his way back, he reached into the front seat and pulled a copy of the Book of Mormon from a paper sack.
“You’ve come to church with us a lot, Sam,” said Dad. “And I think it’s time that you found out if what we are doing is true.” He handed the book to Sam.
“This was my first copy,” Dad said. “My dad gave it to me when I was a bit younger than you.”
We all stared at the battered book. I felt an ache of jealousy that Dad was giving my friend something that should have gone to me. I didn’t even have my own copy. I couldn’t help being resentful.
“Would you read it?” asked Dad.
Sam shrugged and stuffed the book into his pocket. Then we stood awkwardly for a few minutes until Dad decided the radiator was cool enough to continue.
“I’m going to try going over alone,” he said. “I’ve seen Sam thrown to the mat enough to know his head is full of rocks. I think the dead weight is slowing us down. I’ll see you at the top.”
He cranked the car, and it fired. He drove back down the hill and up for the far rise. A minute later we turned to see the Ford racing up the hill toward us, revving with an increasingly deafening roar. It passed us but slowly. We ran to catch up and put our shoulders to give a good push.
At the top, Dad stopped the car and let it idle. Then we all stood in front and stared down at the green and white Elk Valley, the far side climbing peak after peak into the golden horizon. Sam and I were anxious to get to the competition, but we stood there with Dad, looking at the view for a minute.
Dad finally broke the silence. “Thanks for the push, rock head,” he said to Sam.
“No problem.”
“Sometimes you need a little help in life.” Dad reached over and patted the book in Sam’s shirt pocket. “There’s help in there. In fact, just about all the answers to life’s questions are in those pages. And I know you’ve got questions.”
Sam nodded but didn’t say anything.
That night Sam won on points over a tough red-haired kid from the coast and then had an easy time pinning a local guy he’d beaten many times. I was almost pinned in my first match by a little kid who was quick as a gunshot. But the second match, I got paired with a Crowsnest kid from our Consolidated High School whom I’d beaten before. He was a good wrestler but had dislocated his shoulder once and couldn’t go left. We were in a clinch late in the second when I shot at his strong leg and was able to lift him off balance and trip him to the mat. His back was exposed, but before I could finish him off, he spun free. Still, the move gave me enough points to win the match.
Dad didn’t say much, but he patted Sam on the shoulder and said something funny as we left the gym.

I had a really rough time when I didn’t have as strong a testimony as I wanted to. I was scared that I would fall away from the Church, and it sent me into a pattern where I did not want to come to church. However, at a baptism, somebody bore their testimony that they had followed the path that Church leaders and their parents had set out for them, and they eventually gained a testimony of their own. This helped me a lot, and now I love to go to church.
Kaden W., age, Utah, USA

I know that the gospel is real and that prayers are answered. I graduated from high school and enlisted in the navy in the middle of World War II. I was on board a ship that was part of a large group of ships. Kamikaze pilots were trying to destroy my ship and others by crashing their airplanes into the ships. My grandson Adam once asked me what I did at such times of extreme danger. There was no place to run or hide. “All I could do was pray,” I told him. “That was a good thing to do,” he answered.

The morning of 18 May 1980 stands out vividly in Elder Shirley Dean Christensen’s memory. It began as a beautiful, sunny spring day. But by noon the skies over Royal City, Washington, were black, and the once-green fields and orchards were covered in ash. Mount Saint Helens, about 150 miles (240 km) west of Royal City, had erupted.
During the next few days, Elder Christensen watched in horror as the ash-laden trees in his orchards dropped much of their precious fruit. He thought the impact of the catastrophe on his apple-growing business would be devastating.
But the remaining apples were of excellent quality, and the thinning of the fruit had actually benefited his crop. “The Lord really did protect our crop,” he says. “That turned out to be one of the most productive years we’ve ever had.” He links that blessing to his family’s faithful payment of tithing and to their desire to obey the Lord’s commandments. The experience also taught him that adversity sometimes brings blessings in unexpected ways.

In my childhood, my family went through some very troubled times. My parents divorced when I was five. My mother remarried, but divorced again. My three younger siblings and I all lived with our mother in one room in one of the worst parts of Glasgow, Scotland. Home life was quite dark, challenging, and poor.
When I was about 10, I went to a little Christian Sunday School group that met at the end of the street. We sang songs, and a teacher taught us Bible stories. One Sunday, our teacher told us the story of Zacchaeus.
Jesus was passing through the city of Jericho, and there was a great crowd of people surrounding him. A man named Zacchaeus wanted to see Jesus pass by, but Zacchaeus was not very tall. He ran ahead and climbed a tree so he could see Jesus in the midst of the crowd.
Jesus looked up and called him by name: “Zacchaeus, make haste, and come down; for to day I must abide at thy house.”
Zacchaeus was not a popular man. He was a tax collector. Many people, seeing with whom Jesus was going to spend the day, murmured because they didn’t think Zacchaeus was worthy. Yet Jesus chose to spend time with him.
We don’t read much in the scriptures about what happened while Jesus was in Zacchaeus’s home, but we do know what the result was. Zacchaeus repented and became converted. Jesus said that salvation had come to the house of Zacchaeus. (See Luke 19:1–10.)
I wondered, if Jesus knew the name of Zacchaeus, did He know my name? If this thing called salvation could come to the home of Zacchaeus, could it come to my family? If Zacchaeus could be saved, could I? I know now that the Holy Ghost prompted me to think those thoughts.
Within two years, I discovered that the Lord did know my name and that salvation could come to my family. The Lord sent missionaries from His Church to find us. My mother was not very interested in religion, but the missionaries knocked on our door on a very rainy, wet day. They had been out working all day long, and they were soaked to the skin. My mother invited them in to get warm. When I came home from school, the missionaries were sitting by our electric heater, steam rising from their clothes. That began our teaching experience. A few weeks later, we were baptized and confirmed members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Being members of the Church has been a great blessing in our lives. We found peace, direction, and hope. I grew up to serve a mission, marry in the temple, and become the father of four children. I became the first person in all the generations of my family to attend university, and I enjoyed a successful career.

First of all, Shawn Bradley is tall.
Not just the ordinary, over-six-feet, hard-to-find-trousers-long-enough kind of tall.
Shawn is the duck-through-doorways, watch-out-for-light-fixtures, can’t-fit-in-some-cars, look-over-the-heads-of-everyone-in-a-crowd kind of tall. He is literally the tallest person most people will see in their lifetime. His height simply astounds people.
But Shawn Bradley is more than a seven-foot-six freshman college basketball player. His honest concern for others and wonderful attitude about life hint at depths that match his amazing size. But first of all, before anyone can come to understand that inner person, there is Shawn’s height.
“I intimidate people,” Shawn says half apologetically, “just because I’m so big. It’s hilarious what some people do. It’s crazy.”
“Yeah,” says Justin, Shawn’s six-foot-two, 13-year-old brother, “when we see another seven-foot guy, we don’t think he’s so tall.”
Sitting in the front room of his parents’ home, Shawn doesn’t seem extraordinarily tall while slouching in a comfortable chair. But as soon as he stands up, the room’s normal eight-foot ceilings shrink. The doorways cause problems when Shawn forgets to duck. He and Justin sometimes get roughhousing together as brothers will do, “When I get chasing him around, once in a while I’ll forget,” says Shawn. “Then, wham! I’m flat on the floor. It knocks me silly.”
Teresa, Shawn’s mother, lists a few other adjustments they have had to make at home. “We had to extend our mirror up in the bathroom so Shawn can see. We’ve had to order him an eight-foot bed.”
Friends and family are completely used to Shawn’s height, but they find it entertaining to go places with him and notice other people’s reactions.
“My family treats me horribly when we go to the mall,” Shawn says, in mock complaint. Justin and sisters Tasha, 15, and Adrianne, 9, just smile because they know what he is going to say next. “We’ll all be walking together, my family and friends, and I’ll look around and no one will be there. I turn around, and they are about 20 or 30 feet behind me watching everyone look at me. I’ll say, ‘Thanks a lot, guys.’”
His sister Tasha adds, “You can’t believe the looks he gets.”
Doesn’t he get sick of it, never being able to go anywhere without causing a sensation?
“Sometimes he gets tired of it, but he loves it,” says Corinne Pugmire, one of Shawn’s best friends from high school. “He wouldn’t trade it for anything, and he’ll be the first one to tell you that.”
“I love being tall,” says Shawn. “I do get tired of people always looking at me and always saying things, but I try to represent myself in a good, upstanding manner for my faith and my family. I am what I am. I’m seven feet, six inches, and nothing is going to change that. I have to deal with it and live with it. My family and my coach have taught me to look positively at things. Make the best of the situation is a slogan I live by. Look for the best in everything. That’s what I’ve tried to do so far in my life, and that’s what I want to do the rest of my life.”
It’s the kind of attitude that would make anyone stand out in a crowd. Shawn gives a lot of credit for his positive outlook to his parents.
Teresa and Reiner met in a hospital. She was visiting a friend, and he was working his way through college as an orderly. When he walked into her friend’s hospital room, Teresa remembers thinking, “Boy, this guy is tall.” Standing six feet herself, she was aware of height. Reiner is six-foot-eight. “He remembered my phone number when I gave it to my friend and called me,” said Teresa. They were married a year later. It was while the couple was stationed in Germany, fulfilling an ROTC obligation in the army, that Shawn was born. After finishing his schooling as a medical technologist, Reiner moved his young family back to Teresa’s hometown of Castle Dale, Utah. They wanted a small-town atmosphere for their children.
“I wanted my children to become well rounded,” says Teresa. “I wanted them to participate in lots of different activities so that when the time came for them to choose what they wanted to be in life, they’d have a good background. It’s happening. My kids are involved in almost too much. We have animals, and they can sort of learn how to work doing chores.”
“No sort of about it,” Shawn interrupted. “We do chores. I like doing most chores, but the worst is in the middle of the winter when it’s snowing, and out in the corral it’s really yucky. The milk cow is wet and gross, and you have to go out and milk her at 6:00 in the morning when it’s ten below zero. It’s got to be the worst chore in the world.”
Shawn may have to face the cow in the freezing barn some mornings alone, but in everything else his family offers encouragement and love. “We were there behind him to support him,” says Reiner, “not to push him. I don’t think he ever felt pressure to play in any sport.”
Shawn loves to play baseball and was the second-string quarterback in football during junior high until he felt he couldn’t risk injury. He was on the high school golf team, although he’s quick to add that when they organized the eight-member team, only seven tried out. “They had to let me on.” He likes to horseback ride, rock climb, and water-ski with his friends.
“We knew quite early that Shawn would be good in basketball,” says Reiner. “I played ball with some men in the ward early mornings at the stake house. I asked Shawn if he would be interested in coming along. He went with me many mornings to the stake center and played with the adults when he was only eleven or twelve.”
Some time in his early teens, Shawn could beat his Dad in one-on-one. “I don’t remember when it happened. When Dad would win, it would make me feel bad, so the next time, he’d let me beat him. I never really knew when I could actually beat him.”
But Shawn is not quite so kind to his younger brother, Justin. Would he like to beat his older brother? Justin answers very quickly, “Yeah.”
Under his breath, Shawn mumbles, “It’s never going to happen. I’m not going to let him. When he beats me, he’ll know it.”
Of course, Shawn’s basketball prowess has not gone unnoticed. He has attracted national attention since he was in the ninth grade. College recruiters roamed around Castle Dale trying to persuade Shawn to consider going to their colleges.
But Shawn had one big requirement, and if schools would not agree, then there was no more discussion. Shawn told them that as soon as he turned 19 he would be taking two years off to serve a mission. That point was nonnegotiable. All the colleges that talked with Shawn agreed. His family supported Shawn’s decision as he selected a school. Teresa confesses to being delighted when her son chose to go to Brigham Young University, just about a two-hour drive from home.
As many prospective missionaries do, Shawn has thought about some of the places he may serve a mission. “I’ll go anywhere,” says Shawn, “but I hope I don’t go to Japan. We have a family friend who was six-foot-four who went to Japan and had an uncomfortable time. He said things there were built for short people.”
His mother adds, “We’re hoping he’ll go to a country that feeds missionaries really well so he can gain weight.”
And that brings up the subject of food. Shawn is too skinny for his height. He weighs 210 and is consciously working to put on weight. “I eat anything I can get my hands on,” Shawn explains. “It’s like a constant hunger. I can always eat.”
But serving a mission is more than living and eating in another place. It is teaching others about your deepest beliefs. Shawn has already had some experiences that have prepared him for teaching the gospel.
When Shawn was 15, he and a friend attended a prestigious national basketball camp with 120 of the best high school players in the United States. A new friend talking with the two Utah players had some pretty wild misconceptions about Mormons.
“He asked me, ‘There are Mormons where you’re from, right? Do you see them? Do you live by them?’
“I answered him,” says Shawn. “Yeah, we go to school with them. We see them all the time. Mormons are like you and me. They are normal people. They look like us. They dress like us. They act like us. They talk like us.
“He didn’t believe me until I said, ‘I can prove to you that Mormons are just normal people.’ He said, ‘How?’ I said, ‘We’re both Mormons.’ It really shook him up. A few days later, that kid started asking more about the Church and our ideals. He couldn’t believe we wouldn’t have sex until after we were married, and that we wouldn’t drink and stuff. It was a heavy-duty discussion for 15-year-olds.
“I ended up bearing my testimony to him. That is the best missionary tool in the world. I just couldn’t find a way of explaining everything I knew. But I knew it was true. It was an excellent feeling to know something is really true.”
Shawn finds himself more and more often talking about the Church. Besides his television interviews with national press, he spends time speaking at firesides. His friend, Corinne Pugmire, says people can sense his testimony. “When he speaks, you can tell that he is not making it up to impress people. He definitely has a strong testimony. He’s adamant about standing up for what he believes and not backing down one bit.”
Friends mean a lot to Shawn. He wants to be able to trust everybody, but he’s already met people who just want to take advantage of him. “Deep down I can sense their motives. I can tell when people want to know me for what I am, not who I am. I think it’s the Holy Ghost saying, be careful.”
“People ask, is he stuck up?” says Corinne. “He’s not at all. He’s down to earth. He’s always quick to say he’s sorry if he does something wrong. He’s totally cool.”
In his ward, Shawn’s bishop, Scott Johansen, says, “He’s just one of the guys. He’s quiet, friendly, and very considerate of others. He goes out of his way to cheer someone up. He would be an outstanding young man if he were five-foot-eleven.”
When asked to think about someone Shawn has helped, his friend Bill Wright thought for a fraction of a second before answering, “He’s helped me. He’s incredibly caring. He puts everybody ahead of himself. My mother died two years ago, and he was the only one of my friends who came to her funeral. That has stuck with me. He was so caring and thought about me so much.”
Then with a touch of amazement in his voice, Bill said, “I have a hard time even believing he’s my good friend because he is such an awesome friend.”
When asked what advice Shawn would give to young people, he said, “It bugs me when people don’t think well of themselves. They need to have high self-esteem. If I had advice for anyone anywhere, it would be that you have got to think of yourself as the Lord would think of you, as one of his children.” Maybe that’s part of Shawn’s secret, why he treats people with such kindness and courtesy.
And his ability to see the good side to things has something to do with his favorite scripture, 2 Nephi 2:11. [2 Ne. 2:11] “That’s the one that talks about opposition in all things,” says Shawn. “If something goes wrong, I say, well, there is opposition in all things. This is the opposition. You have to put it aside and go on.”
Shawn has learned how to take gospel truths into his life and let them guide his actions and decisions. It is in this way he continues to grow.
Yes, Shawn Bradley is tall, and he is definitely someone to look up to.

In the darkness we started along an icy ledge that dropped off into some unseen black depth. The night and the darkness had come quickly—too quickly for me. Our only source of light now came from a hazy moon rising up between the horizon and a ceiling of storm clouds.
“What am I doing here? What are we doing here?” I kept asking myself. It was late November, the day after Thanksgiving, and, as is almost always true of high places in the Northeast, in winter, there was a hard, icy wind blowing. I was with Scout Troop 235 from the Westchester Ward in New York State.
“Nor far now,” one of the leaders ahead of us shouted. “You won’t want to miss this.”
But I did want to miss it. What I wanted most was to be back in the camp we’d just set up, back safe and warm and dry in my sleeping bag. We’d come a long way since morning and were all wet and tired. The Scouts and the leaders ahead of us stopped and were forming a line on the ledge.
“This is incredible,” I heard someone say. What I saw was incredible. I forgot the cold and the wind and found my heart beating faster. In a lifetime a few scenes, a few images, have seared their lines and shapes and colors indelibly into my memory: there was a lightning storm rolling over the Grand Canyon, 50-foot waves crashing into rocks on the northern coast of California, the moon at midnight rising over El Capitan in Yosemite Park. This was such an image. It was as if the universe had been tipped upside down and we were looking down into a clear, star-filled night sky.
These were no ordinary wilds. These were the wildest of the wilds, a place of legends and dreams, the capital of the new Byzantine Empire. These were the wilds of the Big Apple, New York City; and the Milky Way galaxy we were looking down into was the east river, and the stars, the lights of Manhattan Island.
The place where we were standing—the place that, beyond the railing, dropped straight down 107 stories—was the top of the World Trade Center. The twin towers of the World Trade Center are the tallest buildings in New York City and the second tallest in the world. We—Troop 235 plus 150 other Scouts and their leaders, all from the Yorktown Stake, New York State—were to be the first group to camp out there.
The camp-out on the World Trade Center began that morning when we arrived at St. Mark’s Church in the Bowery district of Manhattan Island. Good weather had been forecast, but the night before the camp-out it started raining, and by morning the rain turned to snow. By the time we had started on a seven-mile hike that was to end at the World Trade Center, a hard wind was blowing, turning the storm into a blizzard. What had started out as an easy hike down Broadway became a test of survival just like any winter camp-out can become. On a regular winter camping trip we would have been able to find temporary shelter from the storm in caves or in quickly constructed lean-tos. Here we had to improvise, stopping at laundromats and restaurants. The stops were short. One hundred and sixty Scouts and their leaders in a laundromat doesn’t leave much room for customers.
The rain and the snow and the wind gave the city a kind of iridescent beauty. The streets were a black pearl color reflecting the bright reds, yellows, and greens of street lights, stop signs, and taxi cabs. “It even made the graffiti look good,” John Merrick, 13, from Poughkeepsie, said.
Like bulbs from Christmas trees, in the alleys, against fences, and in the gutters, umbrellas, some of them with broken spines and some that had been stolen by the wind from unsuspecting hands, were piled like tumbleweeds.
The Scouts followed the Old New York Historical Trail, visiting China Town, St. Paul’s Chapel (George Washington worshipped there during his presidency), Wall Street, Trinity Church, Battery Park, and Fraunces Tavern, where George Washington said farewell to his troops after the Revolutionary War.
Manhattan Island is rich in history, beautiful buildings, and parks, but for Rich Poccia, 15, from the Westchester Ward, they weren’t what he found most interesting about the city.
“The people are the most interesting thing here,” he said. “You can stand on any street corner and in just a few minutes see people from a dozen different countries.”
Even though the wind was blowing at over 40 miles per hour and the snow was coming down hard, most of the streets we passed through were crowded. It was business as usual for the Hasidim, wearing full beards and long, dark wool coats; Indians with colored turbans wrapped around their heads; and businessmen with heavy trench coats and copies of the Times held over their heads.
In the city, where almost nothing is surprising, people stopped and stared as they watched 160 Scouts and their leaders march down the streets.
Hiking through Manhattan and camping on top of the World Trade Center was unusual enough to be front-page news in the Reporter Dispatch of White Plains, New York. USA Today and the Poughkeepsie Journal also covered the story.
Late in the afternoon, the fury of the storm began to slow until the wind and the snow stopped. The evening sun dropped below the dark clouds, and golden light spilled in long rays onto the city. The effect was magical. The city was transformed into the fabled city of gold, El Dorado. The buildings and sidewalks, the water in the bay, and the people were turned into a bright, warm, gold color. The air was cool and clean. The city was at its best. In this golden light the Scouts took a ferry to Governor’s Island to eat dinner.
Because of the work the leaders put into organizing the trip, costs for the Scouts were kept to a minimum. Discount rates were obtained for meals, ferry and subway rides, and admission to museums. Several food companies donated hot dogs, drinks, and snacks. A national sporting goods company donated eight basketballs to give away as awards. The U.S. Olympic Committee donated 160 U.S. Olympic pins.
“What we have learned from this event,” Doug Jackson, a Yorktown stake Scouting leader said, “is that people and corporations are very willing to help the Scouting program.”
After dinner the Scouts returned to Manhattan and took a subway to the Natural History Museum. The rides on the New York subway were among the most exciting events of the trip.
Imagine, if you can, a group of 160 Scouts waiting in a subway station, the subway cars rattling and groaning with the sound of a flood roaring down the tunnel, then screeching to a stop. Amazed passengers watch as leaders hurry Scouts onto the cars. The doors slam shut as the Scouts get on. Then the subway cars groan again, shake, rattle, and start off with a jerk. The ride has the smoothness of an old-fashioned buckboard wagon and makes a roller coaster seem smooth. Lights flash off and on. Through the windows other stations are seen—a blur of lights, people, and graffiti. The leaders are studying the subway route, schedules clutched in their hands, with worried looks.
Erik Anderson, 12, from the Poughkeepsie Ward, said the subway was great but that he wouldn’t want to ride it every day.
Tired and wet and hungry, the Scouts finally arrived at the twin towers of the World Trade Center.
We had planned to sleep on the roof of the number two tower. But when the leaders found the decks were iced over and there was a 30-mile-an-hour wind blowing, it was decided the Scouts would spend the night one floor down in the warmth of the observation deck. The Scouts were able to go up onto the roof to see what is one of the most spectacular views in the world.
“Nothing beats this,” said Warren Moon, 14, from Pawling, as he looked down at the city lights.
Elder Robert L. Backman of the First Quorum of the Seventy, and a member of the National Executive Board of the Boy Scouts of America, joined the Scouts at the World Trade Center and spent the night with them on the observation deck. Among the highlights of the trip for many of the Scouts, along with the views of the city at night and the sun rising up over the city the next morning, was the talk Elder Backman gave.
“This morning when I saw the sunrise and light started to hit all of the buildings up and down Manhattan,” Elder Backman, dressed in full Scout uniform, stated, “it occurred to me that none of us better limit ourselves as to what we can accomplish. Just look at this engineering marvel we’re in, 107 stories up. It’s breathtaking. I’m convinced that if we really understand we are sons of God, and I know we are, we can accomplish even greater things. Being sons of God, we can even become like him, and there’s nothing more exciting than that.”
While he was packing his gear and getting ready to leave the building, Brian Fields from the Newburg Branch said camping on the top of the World Trade Center was something he would never forget.
“Camping here overnight and having Elder Backman with us—well, it’s the kind of thing I’ll tell my grandchildren about. We were the first people to ever camp up here. It’s history.”
During the night the storm blew out to sea, leaving the sky cloudless and a deep blue color.
We visited the Statue of Liberty, watched a recreation of a Revolutionary War battle, and explored the aircraft carrier Intrepid (now an air and space museum).
Then it was time to go home. While we waited for our rides, tired and happy, we sat watching the city. The air was cool and still smelled of the rain from the night before. Sea gulls circled overhead. There was a rushing sound, like the sound of a river, coming from the city. A lone man moved along a street pushing a hot dog cart.
“Hot dogs. Get your red-hot hot dogs here. Pretzels, hot fresh pretzels,” he was singing the words.
“It’ll be hard to beat this one,” Douglas McEldowney said, biting into a pretzel covered with mustard. “But I can’t wait to try.”
We all agreed.

My great-great-grandfather Israel Stoddard accepted an invitation to join the Church in 1842. Then he accepted another invitation to join the Saints, and the family moved from New Jersey to Nauvoo. When President Brigham Young extended an invitation to follow him west, they accepted.

As the family crossed the Mississippi River, they looked back and watched as their home was burned. Because of exposure to harsh elements and hardships their mother died, five weeks later the infant baby died, and shortly thereafter the father passed away. As my grandmother wrote, “This left five Stoddard children homeless and almost penniless but not friendless as the Saints were good to them.”

This invitation took the lives of the parents and their small child; however, it bound them together eternally.

Young men in Uganda start playing football as small boys, using tightly bound branches for a ball. Ever since he was very young, Dennis had a gift for the sport, and his high school gave him a scholarship to play for their team. After he completed high school, a professional team offered him pay, room, and board. It was a dream come true, but Dennis knew this would likely interfere with his plans to go on a mission later in the year.
Dennis’s desire to do what his Heavenly Father wanted him to do was so strong that he did not even want to be tempted to remain on the team when the time would arrive for him to serve a mission. Many people questioned his choice, but Dennis is certain he made the right decision—for himself and others. “My two little brothers and my little sister were just baptized,” he says. “I never thought my sister would hear the gospel. When I see God doing miracles in my family, it gives me a bright hope for my future.”

I am a convert to the Church. I was baptized when I was a 23-year-old young single adult attending medical school in Arizona, USA. I know firsthand how Satan works on investigators to confuse them and discourage them when they are seeking truth.

All during my youth, I had watched the examples of Latter-day Saint friends. I was impressed with the way they conducted their lives. I made the decision to learn more about the Church, but I did not want to tell anyone I was studying Mormonism. To avoid pressure from my friends, I decided to make my search a private investigation.

This was many years before the internet, so I went to the public library. I found a copy of the Book of Mormon and a book called A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, by Elder LeGrand Richards (1886–1983) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. I began to read these books with great desire, and I found them inspiring.

While my spirit was yearning to learn more, Satan began to whisper in my ear. He told me that in order to be completely objective, I needed to read what was written by the critics of the Church also. I went back to the public library and began to look around. Sure enough, I found a book that discredited the Prophet Joseph.

Reading this anti-Mormon book confused me. I lost that sweet spirit and influence that had guided my investigation. I became frustrated and was about to abandon my search for truth. I was praying for an answer while reading anti-Mormon literature!

To my surprise, I received a phone call from a high school friend who was attending Brigham Young University. She invited me to come visit her in Utah, promising that I would love the scenic trip. She had no idea that I was secretly studying about her Church.

I accepted her invitation. My friend suggested that we go to Salt Lake City to visit Temple Square. She was surprised by my enthusiastic response. She had no idea how interested I was to learn the truth about Joseph Smith and the Restoration.

The sister missionaries on Temple Square were very helpful. Without knowing it, they answered many of my questions. Their testimonies influenced me to “doubt [my] doubts,”9 and my faith began to grow. The power of a heartfelt testimony cannot be overestimated.

My friend also shared her testimony with me and invited me to pray and ask God if the Church was true. On the long drive back to Arizona, I began to pray with faith—for the first time “with a sincere heart, with real intent” (Moroni 10:4). At some point on that trip, it seemed that my whole car lit up with light. I learned for myself that light can dispel darkness.

After I had decided to be baptized, the devil put up a final struggle. He worked on my family, who did everything in their power to discourage me, and they refused to attend my baptism.

I was baptized anyway, and gradually their hearts were softened. They began to help me research my family history. A few years later, I baptized my younger brother. The friend who invited me to visit her in Utah is now my wife.

Mike Bruneau’s parents and Church leaders told him that work is something to take seriously, to be honest at, even when it is not very glamorous. He took that advice to heart.
Mike, 15, is working as a temporary custodian for a Pepperell elementary school during the summer. If you have ever pushed a vacuum around your own living room you can probably testify that cleaning is not the most exciting job. Mike says the temptation to slack off at work is strong at times, but he sets goals and takes pride in his work.
“It could be boring because we do a lot of the same things over and over,” Mike said. “So I set a goal to make sure we get everything done before the end of the day.”
Mike also adds that he wants to be a good example because he’s LDS. He has had the opportunity to tell other employees about the Church and feels better about talking religion when others can see what kind of person he is trying to be.

The love between David and Daniel is real—a love anyone in their presence can feel. They met in the fall of 1988 when David was assigned as a peer tutor to Daniel. David joined the peer tutoring program at Viewmont High School because he likes to help people. “We were instant best friends the first time we met,” says David. “Yep,” adds Daniel, “best friends, just like that.” And he snaps his fingers.
Most teens want to do all the “cool” things to be accepted by their peer group. David is obviously “cool.” He’s very popular—after all, he was elected student-body president. He’s handsome, outgoing, a good student, and a triathlete. And yet he befriends a youth who is mentally handicapped and even asks him to be his campaign manager in the school elections. Didn’t he wonder what the other kids would think? He answers, “People get too caught up in what others think. I only worry about what one person thinks. What the Lord thinks of me is most important.”
He continues, “I wanted Daniel to be my campaign manager because he’s so friendly and will talk to everybody. I wanted people to know that handicapped people have feelings just like everyone else and they want to be accepted. That’s exactly what I got.”

An early-morning seminary student, Cameron K. was used to starting his day in a spiritual way. “Seminary gives me that spiritual boost for the day. I wanted to get that boost,” Cameron says. And summer vacation was no exception. When the temple baptistry opened each summer morning at 6:30 a.m., Cameron was there.
Every morning, Tuesday through Saturday, Cameron left his home before 6:00 a.m., his bike lights flashing in the dark as he pedaled the five-mile route to the temple. “The streets were quiet. It felt peaceful,” Cameron says. Since he was riding a single-speed bike, enduring the initial uphill climb was his biggest challenge. “Whenever I would crest the top of the hill, I would start looking to see where the temple was. I was able to see a glimpse of the angel Moroni,” he says. “It helped me focus on the temple.”
While doing baptisms for the dead, Cameron tried to focus on the people. “Sometimes I’d think about a person as I was doing an ordinance for him, trying to feel better connected with him. There were a few times when a certain name would be read for the baptism and I kind of knew that person was happy his work was being done.”
“One time when I was leaving the temple,” says Cameron, “the temple president was at the front door. He reached out to me and said, ‘Thank you for coming.’ It made me really want to come back. It made me realize that it really is a huge work that we do in the temple. It made me want to be even more a part of it.”
By summer’s end, Cameron had made over 40 round trips to the temple, biking over 400 miles.