Gospel Story Finder

At 2,000 feet above Utah’s lush Heber Valley the Schwiezer 233 glider hangs behind its tow plane like a fine, long-winged falcon effortlessly pursuing a frantic pigeon. Then, with an audible bump, the sailplane releases the 200-foot fiber cord that binds it to its motorized helpmate. The tow plane banks hard to the left, revs its engine, and drops away. The sailplane pilot is left alone—alone with the whistling against the canopy, the invisible air currents, and the translucent blue of the sky.
Slipping along at 40 miles per hour, the knowledgeable pilot scans the landscape for signposts of soaring currents. He notices several: the slope of the nearby mountains, the dark alfalfa patch absorbing heat faster than surrounding pastures, and the hovering cumulus cloud capping a warm, moist updraft. His training reminds him that encounters with these shafts of rising air will lift his craft in direct proportion to its wing size and speed and the density of the air itself.
Suddenly he notices his instruments indicating a significant “thermal.” Up the warm air takes him, his plane climbing in slow, deliberate spirals. At 3,500 feet he holds her steady and peers at the countryside below. The roads seem to be careful checkering on the verdant fabric of corn patches, rectangular barns, and manicured villages of whitewashed homes. Cattle meander like red beetles across the scene.
Eventually, with evening approaching, the pilot’s imagination runs low on games to play with the clouds. Dipping the plane’s slim nose, he silently surrenders to the night and takes her down.

I wish you to know how much I’m thankful for this New Era magazine in watering the seed of the gospel to grow and be rooted in my heart.
I remember in the year 1978 being ten years old when two missionaries, laboring in love and understanding, patiently planted the seed of the gospel in our poor home. I was present at every discussion. I just sat observing them, because at that age I couldn’t fully comprehend their words. I hoped that through their actions I could better understand them.
I was baptized together with my family. True, I didn’t really understand why we were joining the Church, but as I went to church with my family I came to understand more and more.
The seed has grown, and yet at every turn there were temptations challenging me. I wondered whether I could truly follow all the commandments. Then one of the missionaries who taught us subscribed to the Church magazines for us. I then found the New Era which supplies my needs and helps me to stay close to the Church. It also gives me encouragement in such bitter trials, knowing that other members in other nations have overcome them. It strengthens my testimony.
So, Elder Hunter, wherever you are now, I would like to thank you for the New Era. Through this magazine you’ve truly helped to convert me. The Church is really true, and I am now preparing to serve a mission like my three brothers and sister.
Amor Q. YacapinCagayan de Oro City Philippines

When Jim was a little boy, he loved to ride his horse. He had a pair of spurs that made him feel like a real cowboy. One day when he came in from riding, he was disobedient and his mother sent him to his room in the basement. He was so angry that he threw his spurs down the stairs. Later he repented and told his mother that he was sorry. The next time he wanted to ride his horse, he couldn’t find the spurs. He looked everywhere. Finally he knelt and prayed to Heavenly Father to help him find them. When he finished praying, he started looking again—and found them. This was the beginning of Jim’s testimony that Heavenly Father hears and answers prayers. Now he is a stake president. He teaches the children in his stake that praying every night and morning will bring them great blessings all the rest of their lives.

“Hey, wake up,” someone says, poking you.
Groggily, you look at the clock next to your bed. It’s 6:30 a.m.? What’s going on? Wait, that’s not your clock. And this isn’t your bed. Where are you?
“Hey,” the voice says, “you’re the one who wanted to follow us around. It’s time to get the day started.”
As you peer up at the missionary standing over your bed, you finally remember what’s going on. Church magazines offered you the opportunity to follow a missionary companionship around for a day, and you jumped at the chance to see what missionary life is really like.
You just didn’t realize it would start this early.
“Hi, I’m Elder Jesse Ward, from Utah,” the tall missionary says as you sit up. “Welcome to Spain. This is my companion, Elder Pierrick Triplet.”
Elder Triplet is from France, and he isn’t learning just Spanish but English too. Despite the challenge of having to learn two languages at once, Elder Triplet is grateful to be on a mission.
“I’m a convert,” he says. “I’ve had a great change in my life, and I’d like others to have it too. A mission can be hard work, but seeing someone change his or her life is worth it.”
They’ve got your attention. You’ve always heard that a mission can be the best two years of your life. Today you get a chance to find out why.
6:41 a.m. After taking time to pray, the missionaries spend some time working out. Push-ups, sit-ups, even a little light weight lifting are the usual for Elder Ward. Breakfast follows a shower and shave. Cold cereal is a favorite.
8:07 a.m. Missionaries spend a good deal of time studying individually and as a companionship so they can obtain the word before declaring it (see D&C 11:21). After language study and personal scripture study, it’s time for companionship study using Preach My Gospel.
9:55 a.m. Missionaries dedicate a lot of time to planning, at the beginning of the day, throughout the day, and at the end of the day. They talk not just about what they’re going to do but about what each investigator needs.
Today the elders are talking about a man from France, an investigator they’re going to invite to be baptized.
“He’s worried,” Elder Triplet says. “He doesn’t feel worthy.”
“Let’s talk about repentance and how God remembers sins no more,” Elder Ward suggests after the companions think it over. “Why don’t you teach it in French to make sure he understands?”
The last thing the elders do before leaving is pray—again. This is one of many prayers they’ll offer today. Missionary work requires a lot of heavenly help. Then it’s out the door and off to the bus stop in a hurry.
11:09 a.m. Missionaries talk to anyone anywhere anytime about the gospel, because they never know who is going to be interested. While waiting for the bus, the missionaries chat with a young man and give him a pamphlet with their phone number on it.
11:21 a.m. A 10-minute bus ride and a short walk later, the missionaries arrive at a rented meetinghouse at the same time as their investigator. The meeting begins well, but the investigator’s concerns push the 45-minute lesson they had planned on to more than an hour.
“That was the most frustrating lesson I’ve ever been in,” Elder Triplet says afterward. “He likes the Church. He thinks it’s true. He wants to pay tithing. But he doesn’t believe he needs to be baptized again. He was a little argumentative.”
“He’s a great guy,” Elder Ward says, shaking his head. “Maybe he’ll be ready to talk about baptism next time.”
2:06 p.m. The missionaries jump on another bus, this time to El Casco, the historic quarter of Toledo, Spain. They stop by an investigator’s business to invite him to an activity that night.
“You can get lost in here really quick if you aren’t paying attention,” Elder Ward says of the maze of narrow streets lined with buildings that seem to lean over those walking below.
2:24 p.m. While navigating the tight streets, the missionaries stop to offer help to a woman carrying a heavy load. They spend a moment explaining who they are and what they do, but the woman isn’t interested.
2:47 p.m. It’s siesta time in Spain, so the missionaries catch a bus back to their apartment, or piso, for lunch. “Everything shuts down between 2:00 and 4:00 p.m.,” Elder Ward explains. “Some people get mad if you knock on their doors.”
“This is chorizo, or sausage,” Elder Triplet says poking at lunch. “It’s typical food. We eat a lot of noodles and chorizo because it’s cheap and easy to make.”
“The mission is great preparation for marriage,” Elder Ward laughs as he mixes his Kool-Aid. “You have to learn to get along, cook, clean, do laundry, budget, and take care of yourself.”
4:24 p.m. Back in El Casco, the missionaries meet with a counselor in the mission presidency about current activation efforts.
“This is a great area,” says Elder Ward, who explains that Church attendance has gone from about 15 to 80 members each week because one family set the example of fellowshipping.
4:59 p.m. The elders end up with a little unexpected free time on their hands, but missionaries are used to doing some planning on the fly. Their backup plan was to do some tracting.
5:42 p.m. In El Casco, where so many people live above street level, knocking on doors often means carrying on conversations with people on their balconies. And even in historic tourist towns, a missionary has to look out for dogs.
The elders have some success: “We found some great people,” Elder Ward says. “There were some youth from Paraguay. They invited us back tomorrow.” And some failure: “We had a half-hour conversation with one man,” Elder Triplet says. “It was like talking to a wall.”
7:45 p.m. Two buses later the elders make it to the activity they had planned with the sister missionaries who work in the same city, Sister Kathleen Bonifay and Sister Brittany Hofman.
The people they were expecting to come didn’t. “That’s the way it goes sometimes,” Elder Ward says. But after a little footwork, the missionaries are able to gather a handful of other investigators living nearby. After a hymn and a video, you can feel the influence of the Holy Ghost as the missionaries bear testimony of the Book of Mormon as another witness of Jesus Christ. The activity is a success.
“The Lord takes care of you when you put forth your best planning and best effort,” says Sister Bonifay.
9:13 p.m. After a hike to the bus stop, the elders and sisters have made it back to their respective apartments, where they’ll call their leaders, review the day and their long-range plans, and make plans for the next day.
“Well, this is what we do,” Elder Ward tells you. “It doesn’t change much.”
Elder Triplet laughs. “We are the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.”
Things didn’t go exactly as the elders had planned, but the day went well anyway. They made some good contacts, pulled off a powerful activity, bore testimony of Christ, and did their best to follow the promptings of the Holy Ghost.
“I’ve heard people say these are the best two years of their lives,” Elder Triplet says. “The two years are great, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re the best 730 days of my life. There are some days I thought would never end. But I have loved being a missionary.”
Elder Ward agrees. He has mixed emotions about leaving. “I always thought I’d be excited to go home,” he says. “But I see life differently now. I love my life. I’m a missionary. I’m speaking to people about Christ every day. Leaving will be bittersweet.”
You’ve enjoyed getting a taste of missionary work as well. As exciting as it is, missionary work can be exhausting. Now it’s time to get some rest and prepare yourself for your day as a missionary. It has a way of coming faster than you think.
Preach My Gospel is a part of every missionary’s day. You can get a copy at a distribution center or at www.ldscatalog.com.

The best part of our walk that day wasn’t riding in the shiny red wagon that Grandpa had given me for my birthday, even though it was lots of fun. And it wasn’t the snowflakes making polka dots on my blue coat and pants. The best part was when Mama stopped the wagon in front of Mr. Tanner’s pet shop.
Mr. Tanner’s window was full of frisky puppies. I got out of the wagon and pushed my nose against the cold window. The puppies ran to me and tried to lick my nose through the glass. Mama and I laughed.
“Oh, look, Cassie!” Mama exclaimed as she pointed. High up on a shelf I saw a cage of fluffy kittens. I waved, but they were busy chasing each other’s tails.
“What’s that?” I asked and pointed to a small ball of gray fur in another cage.
“I can’t tell,” Mama replied, “but here comes Mr. Tanner. Let’s ask him.”
“How’s my friend Cassie today?” asked Mr. Tanner, coming out of his shop. He brushed the snow from my hat. “Did you ever see so many little rascals?” he asked, chuckling. “Sure hope I can sell them all by Christmas.”
“What’s in that cage up there?” I asked, pointing to the gray furry ball.
“It’s a bunny,” he answered. “The last one too. Do you like her?”
Just then the bunny turned and looked at me with her big brown eyes. Her ears stood straight up, and she wiggled her tiny button nose. I wanted that bunny for my very own. “How much does she cost?” I asked.
“Just one dollar,” said Mr. Tanner.
“Oh, Mama!” I exclaimed, delighted. “I have a dollar in my piggy bank. Please, may I buy the bunny?”
Mama hugged me. “We’ll have to ask Grandpa first,” she said. “We’d better go now. It’s snowing hard, and we have a long way to walk.”
When we got home, Grandpa had supper on the table. After we’d sat down and he’d said the blessing on the food, I told him about the bunny in Mr. Tanner’s window.
“Eat your soup, Cassie,” he said. “It’ll warm your tummy.”
“Grandpa,” I said, “I have a dollar.”
“Drink your milk,” he said, filling my cup.
I love my grandpa a lot, but sometimes he just doesn’t listen to me.
“Grandpa!” I said in a loud voice. “Can I please have the bunny? You have Mama to take care of, and Mama has me, but I don’t have anybody.”
“It’s up to your mama,” he said as he buttered my bread, “but I would say no. It’ll just make a lot more work for me.”
So Mama said no. She might have said yes if she didn’t have to go to work every day. Nobody heard me say that I would take care of the bunny.
Whenever Mama and I walked to town to buy Christmas presents, we’d stop and look in Mr. Tanner’s window. Every time, there were fewer and fewer puppies and kittens, but the bunny was always there, and I was glad.
On Christmas Eve Mama and I walked by the pet shop one more time. All the animals in the window were gone. All but one—the bunny. She wiggled her nose, and I blew her a kiss. I wished for the hundredth time that Grandpa would change his mind.
Mr. Tanner saw us and came out of his shop. He whispered something to Mama, and Mama smiled and said she thought it would be all right.
“Cassie,” said Mr. Tanner, “would you take care of this bunny for me tomorrow? The shop will be closed, and it wouldn’t be right to leave her alone on Christmas Day.”
“Oh, yes!” I cried, and I quickly led Mama and Mr. Tanner into the shop. Mr. Tanner put the bunny into a small box with air holes and handed Mama a bag of rabbit food. I got to carry the bunny box all the way home!
“What in the world!” Grandpa exclaimed when he saw the bunny. “Didn’t we say a rabbit would be too much trouble?”
“It’s just for tomorrow,” Mama explained. “Cassie and I will take care of her.”
“I can do it all by myself,” I said.
Grandpa wasn’t so sure and just said, “Hmmmmm.”
I found a bigger box and put an old window screen over the top of it. I put food and water and the bunny inside. After she had eaten, I took her out and petted her and put her back until after supper.
Grandpa wouldn’t even look at her. Well, maybe he did once or twice—but just for a minute. He made a fire in the fireplace and set up our Christmas tree and strung the twinkly lights. Mama helped him hang the ornaments and strings of popcorn while I took care of the bunny.
At bedtime I put the bunny back in the box and left it by the fireplace so she would stay warm. Grandpa took me upstairs and tucked me in.
“Grandpa, can’t the bunny stay?” I pleaded.
But Grandpa just kissed my forehead and pulled the blanket up to my chin.
“Sometimes it’s hard to say no,” he said slowly, “especially to someone you love. Maybe someday, Cassie, but not now. Grandpa has no extra time.”
“I promise I’ll take care of her,” I called, but Grandpa was already downstairs.
Christmas morning I woke up before anyone else and tiptoed downstairs in my nightgown. The lights on our tree blinked on and off, and the room looked bright and sparkly. Under the tree were presents with my name on them, and my stocking, stuffed full and topped with an apple, hung from the mantle. Grandpa was asleep in his big chair by the fireplace. Our afghan lay across his lap. I tried not to wake him as I ran to the bunny box and looked in. The screen was off and the box was empty!
“Here, bunny, bunny,” I called softly, but she didn’t come. I peeked under the furniture. Then I searched all the other rooms, but the bunny was gone. I felt scared, and my heart went bump, bump, bump.
Mama came downstairs. “Cassie, what are you doing?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”
“The bunny’s lost!” I cried. “I can’t find her anywhere.”
Mama hugged me. “She has to be here somewhere.” But even with both of us searching, we couldn’t find her. “Oh, dear,” Mama said. “Maybe we made a mistake bringing her home.”
“What’s all the commotion?” Grandpa asked as he yawned and opened his eyes. “And why the sad faces? It’s Christmas!”
“The bunny’s missing,” said Mama, “and we’ve looked everywhere. What are we going to tell Mr. Tanner?”
Grandpa laughed and lifted the afghan. The bunny was fast asleep in his lap. “You tell Mr. Tanner that he’s sold another rabbit,” Grandpa said. He winked at me, and his whole face smiled. “I tried to tell her that she couldn’t stay, but she does have the biggest brown eyes, doesn’t she?”
I sat on the chair next to Grandpa.
“Cassie,” he said, “Grandpa forgot just how soft and cuddly little rabbits can be. No more pet shop for this bunny. She has a family now, and we’ll all help to take care of her.”
I hugged Grandpa hard, and Mama kissed his cheek. Later, when I opened my Christmas presents, I knew that I already had the best present of all.

Marshall was so excited to be in Nebraska. His baseball team, the Aces, had traveled from Utah to play in a tournament. So far it had been an awesome adventure.

“We’re going to win!” Marshall said to his friend Mason as they got ready for the championship game. The Aces were in the lead. All they had to do to win the tournament was beat the Mustangs from Mississippi. If they lost they would have to play a second game against the Mustangs to decide the champion.

Marshall and his teammates played the best they could, but the Aces lost the game. Marshall was disappointed. He was slowly walking back to the dugout when he heard the Mustangs’ coach call, “Hey, boys, come over here!”

“I wonder what he wants,” Marshall complained as he headed to the center of the field. He didn’t feel like being a good sport.

As boys from both teams gathered on the pitcher’s mound, the Mustangs’ coach congratulated them.

“That was a really good game, and you all played really well. We’re excited to play you again tonight. We hope that game will be good too. Now, Tyler,” he said to a boy on his team, “will you please offer a prayer for us?”

Marshall was surprised. He did not expect to be praying in the middle of a baseball field. He forgot about losing as he bowed his head and listened. He left feeling a lot better.

After the game Marshall and his teammates went to visit the nearby Mormon Trail Center at Historic Winter Quarters. As they walked around with their missionary guide, the boys told her about praying with the other team. Then suddenly Mason said, “Hey, I have an idea! If the Mustangs had enough courage to pray on the field, we should have enough courage to give them copies of the Book of Mormon!”

That sounded like a great idea to Marshall and the other Aces. They asked the missionaries if they could get 15 copies of the Book of Mormon to give to the Mustangs and their coaches.

Before the game all the Aces were excited about playing, but they were even more excited about sharing the gospel. “I hope they’ll read it,” Marshall said as he finished writing his testimony in a Book of Mormon.

The Aces all played hard that night, but they lost again. Marshall didn’t mind as much this time, though, because he was so excited to share his gift. After the game both teams gathered to shake hands and give congratulations. But this time the surprise was for the Mustangs. Marshall handed his book to one of the other boys. “I wanted you to have this. Thanks for playing and praying with us.”

“Thanks,” the boy said.

After the Aces passed out their books, the two teams bowed their heads for another prayer. Marshall was also silently thanking Heavenly Father for giving him the chance to be a missionary.

There are many other opportunities to share the gospel. For example, just this summer I received a happy letter from a new member who learned about the restored gospel when an old classmate phoned her to inquire about an illness she was experiencing. She wrote: “I was enlightened by the way he presented himself to me. After [a] few months of learning from the missionaries, I was baptized. My life has improved since then.” We all know many whose lives would be improved by the restored gospel. Are we reaching out to them?

Not surprisingly, Michelle wants to go on a mission herself someday. She’s practicing by telling her friends about the gospel and inviting them to church. Unfortunately, they seldom come. This doesn’t hurt the friendships, but it does sometimes hurt Michelle. Sadly, one friend who did listen with great interest died in a tragic fire. “I was crying,” Michelle says. “I missed her very much. We went to her church service. It was a sad, rainy day, but I prayed, and I felt that I didn’t have to be sad anymore because I would meet her again. We went to her mom’s house, and her mom was crying. I said, ‘You’ll meet her again in the next life,’ and it seemed to help.”

But Brian’s quickness isn’t what really impressed his baseball coach the first year Brian played. What most impressed coach Marcus Cloud from Hempstead, Texas, was the kind of example Brian set for his teammates: he never swore, he didn’t talk back, and he went out of his way to befriend his teammates.
“Brian carried himself in a way that was real positive, outgoing, and it always seemed like there was something a little bit different about him,” says Coach Cloud. The coach couldn’t figure out what the difference was, but he was so intrigued by it that he started following Brian’s example. When Coach Cloud found out that Brian didn’t drink tea, he decided not to drink it either.
And when Coach found out that Brian was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, he made up his mind to look into that too. Coach Cloud first met the missionaries at Thanksgiving dinner at the Blacks’ home. That night, he told the missionaries he wanted to know about the religion Brian practiced. Soon the coach was meeting with the missionaries regularly and talking to Brian. “Brian filled in a lot of blanks for me. I would go and talk with him about the things that I had read in the Book of Mormon, and he was actually able to answer a lot of questions for me,” says Coach Cloud.
But the most important question Brian’s coach asked him came on the bus ride back from a baseball game in the nearby town of Columbus. He asked simply, “Brian, do you think I have what it takes to be a member of the Church?” Brian smiled and answered, “I would say you do.” But despite Brian’s reassurances, Coach Cloud still wasn’t sure if he was ready for baptism.
A week later, Brian’s baseball team suffered a huge loss to a rival high school. After the game, the players sat in silence waiting for the bus to take them home. Everyone was depressed, especially Coach Cloud.
Brian walked over to the coach to cheer him up. Intending to comment on the game, Coach Cloud looked up at Brian. But instead of replaying the day’s gory defeat, he said, “Brian, I am going to be baptized.” If Brian was shocked by the announcement, so was his coach. But Coach Cloud says he knew he needed to join the Church.
Brian was thrilled. “It was neat that it was my baseball coach getting baptized,” says Brian, who as a priest in the Waller Branch was able to perform the ordinance. Brian says the experience strengthened his friendship with Coach Cloud. In fact, last summer the two took a trip to Utah to visit temples in the area and see Brian’s grandparents.
Unable to resist his coaching instincts for even a second, Coach Cloud made Brian work out every day but Sunday during the trip, no matter what. While they were on the road from Texas to Utah, they would often stop at rest stations and lay out orange cones so Brian could run sprints.
Far more important than the athletic training, however, was the spiritual conditioning Brian received from the trip. He and Coach Cloud were able to do baptisms for the dead at the Provo Utah Temple and visit several Church history sites. And Brian and his coach had plenty of time to talk about Brian’s plans to serve a full-time mission. “I’m looking forward to the spiritual experiences you get from a mission,” says Brian.
It’s Sunday, and the Waller Branch’s sacrament meeting is about to start. Brian sits with his family, his arm around his younger brother Brent, 8, who is dressed in clothes identical to the big brother he looks up to. Coach Cloud walks in and quietly sits down beside them.
Although his friendship with Brian has been sealed by both victory and loss on the baseball field, it’s here, enjoying the gospel, that the two feel their greatest bond. It’s a bond formed because of Brian’s example—on and off the field.
“If youth were to learn something from Brian, it’s that it is important that you set the right example,” says Coach Cloud. “There are people like me who would love to know about the gospel, but they don’t know where to look.”
Until a shortstop with quick feet and a strong testimony comes along, that is.

It was the second day of the Wyoming state track and field meet, and I was a nervous wreck. I could barely eat my breakfast that morning, and I had never been so nervous in all three years of my high school track career. I was one of the favorites to win the 2A girls’ 800-meter dash, along with Patricia. She had the fastest time of the season and was my main competition. If anyone was to beat her, it was me.
As I warmed up for my race on a nearby practice field, I silently prayed to my Father in Heaven for help with my race. I also thanked Him for all my blessings before silently closing my prayer. Saying prayers before my races had become a habit when I started racing in high school. I knew if I put forth my best effort, the Lord would extend a hand and help me.
I continued warming up but still felt nervous and sick to my stomach. A few minutes before my race, I fervently prayed again. This time I only asked the Lord to let me know that He loved me and that He would be there for me.
Almost simultaneously, I felt as if the Lord wrapped his arms around me and gave me a warm hug. Tears began stinging my eyes as the Spirit touched me. I realized that the Lord really did love and care about me. It was one of the most wonderful feelings anyone can ever experience.
I didn’t win the race that day, but I was taught an important lesson. I now know that God hears and answers prayers, and that He loves me very much.

In addition to personal growth, the clowns have been rewarded for their hard work with a treasure house of wonderful memories. “The first time we went into Shriners, we were all scared to death. We weren’t sure how we were going to handle working with crippled children. But they really responded, and it was a choice experience. When we finished we asked the nurse if there were any children who hadn’t been able to come.
“She took us to the room of a boy who had literally had his face ripped off in a car wreck. It looked like his face had been run through a hamburger grinder. He was so self-conscious that he wouldn’t come out of his room.
“So we took it very carefully. We walked in and said ‘Hi, we missed you. We wanted to give you a special balloon.’ At first he was really timid. But then he just started opening up. And I was so proud of the clowns. They really came on strong. They didn’t look away from him. They looked right at him and let him know that they cared about him.
“By the time they were finished, that boy was talking. He knew that he was somebody, and that there were four clowns in that room who cared about him. He told us about his upcoming surgery, and we all wished him the best. It was one of the most giving experiences of our lives.”

The Primary children of the Ardmore Ward in the Norman Oklahoma Stake love to serve others. Their leaders challenged them to find ways to serve in secret. When they read about the invitation to help someone in need for President Thomas S. Monson’s birthday, they were excited to have a service activity. They decided to make hygiene kits and children’s kits. But no one knew how much the kits would soon be needed.
For a few weeks, ward members donated soap, shampoo, toothpaste, crayons, soft toys, and other items for the kits. At their activity, the children packaged 15 hygiene kits and 15 children’s kits. In each kit, they included a big paper heart with the scripture, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16).
Then a terrible tornado swept through their community. Many people lost their homes and belongings. The Primary gave the hygiene kits and children’s kits to people in their community who needed them right away. Giving service helped the children feel thankful and peaceful during a hard time. They learned that serving is a blessing to both the receiver and the giver.

Elder R. Conrad Schultz has enjoyed playing basketball since he was young, so it was a surprise to everyone—himself included—when he quit his Oregon high school team as a senior. “At the time I didn’t know why I needed to quit,” he says. “But now I know.”
The day after he left the school team, a friend invited him to play for his ward team. Although not a Church member at the time, young Conrad agreed, and he helped take the team to the All-Church tournament in Salt Lake City. They placed among the top teams in the tournament, and afterward team members were able to attend a banquet where the featured speaker was Joseph Fielding Smith, President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
“When I came back from the tournament, I wanted to know more about the Church,” says Elder Schultz. “So I took the missionary discussions.” While fasting and praying, he received a strong witness that Joseph Smith was a prophet and the Book of Mormon was the word of God. He was baptized shortly thereafter, in 1956. Two years later, in June 1958, he commenced his service in the Gulf States Mission.

Just after their conversion, I underwent surgery for cancer in my upper jaw. On the day of my surgery, the president of the temple, where I served as an organist and an ordinance worker, fasted and prayed for me. After my surgery, I found it difficult to speak, eat, sing, and do other normal things.

“If you can’t speak,” the temple president told me, “you can still be an organist!”

That encouraged me to resume my service after I had healed. As I played the organ in the temple chapel, I was filled with the Spirit of the Lord and felt strengthened spiritually and physically. I often gave thanks and prayed silently over the words of the hymns.

Soon after I was called to be a stake president, our stake presidency received training from an Area Seventy. During the training, I asked a question to which he responded, “That is a good question. Let’s turn to the Church Handbook of Instructions for the answer.” We then went to the handbook, and there was the answer to my question. A little later in our training, I asked another question. Once again he responded, “Good question. Let’s turn to the handbook.” I did not venture to ask any more questions. I thought it best to read the handbook.

When Sister Gong and I were falling in love toward marriage, I learned about agency and decisions. For a period of time, we were in school studying in two different countries on two different continents. It is why I can honestly say I earned a PhD in international relations.
When I asked, “Heavenly Father, should I marry Susan?” I felt peace. But it was when I learned to pray with real intent, “Heavenly Father, I love Susan and want to marry her. I promise I will be the best husband and father I can be”—when I acted and made my best decisions, it was then the strongest spiritual confirmations came.

I was living away from home for the first time when my parents separated. It was only my first month of college, and as my family life shifted, I struggled to understand the meaning of the word home. When my parents divorced and my family moved out of the home I had lived in for the last 18 years, I was especially confused. I knew I wasn’t homeless, but I certainly felt that way.
I have often heard the Church described as a “refuge from the storm” (D&C 115:6). Institute became that refuge for me as I battled this new storm in my life. I enrolled in institute, and while I don’t recall the exact words spoken in the lessons, I will never forget the feelings of peace and comfort that came to me as I listened. I began to discover the love my Heavenly Father has for me, and I became much more closely acquainted with the best counselor I have ever found: Jesus Christ.
I have to pay for my college education, yet I learn the most valuable lessons from institute classes, which are available to me for free. I see now that the definition of home isn’t necessarily the house in which you grow up but a place where life’s lessons are taught and love abounds. Because of what I learned and the Spirit I felt, institute has become a new home for me. It is wonderful having a place where I feel loved and welcome.

“Remember the time you stopped the airplane on the runway?” I asked. Grandfather’s eyes lit up and so I continued to go back with him to a day when I was 14 years old. Grandmother had decided that she and Grandpa would take me to Salt Lake City for April conference to celebrate my birthday. She had called for airplane reservations, but as usual, she was late. As we arrived at the airport, I panicked to see our plane starting its takeoff. Although she was tiny in size, Grandmother never had a minute’s hesitation about giving Grandfather orders. This time was no different. She turned to him and ordered, “Ed, get out there and stop that plane!”
I couldn’t believe what was happening. Grandfather knew it would do no good to argue, so he just muttered a few words under his breath and crawled out of the car. He opened the large silver gate leading to the runway, and the next thing I knew, he was running alongside the plane waving his arms.
As we boarded the plane, my face was red with embarrassment, but Grandmother just ushered us to our places in her usual matter-of-fact way. As I recalled the episode with Grandfather, I started laughing, and although he couldn’t speak or laugh, his eyes spilled merriment. Once again we were sharing.

So your first question is “What’s an Iditarod?” Well, it’s a famous sled-dog team race held each year in Alaska. Your next question is “An Iditarod in sunny Arizona?” The answer to this question has more to it.
For the past six years the young men and Scouts from four different stakes in central Arizona have participated in a modified Iditarod race at their annual winter campout in Flagstaff, Arizona. Only instead of dog power, these sleds use Scout power. This past January, 375 young men were divided into teams of about 10. They pulled sleds over and through snow, mud, and dirt to the finish line. Each team built a sled equipped with both skis and wheels to handle any conditions. The course was two-and-a-quarter miles long with 10 activity stations along the way where Scouts competed in activities like archery, log sawing, and target ax throwing. The winning time along with the individual scores in the events determined the winner.
Friday night before the race, camp was set up, dinner prepared and eaten, and campers gathered around a campfire for a genuine fireside, where they heard an inspiring message from a member of the Peoria Arizona North Stake presidency. Saturday morning two teams at a time set out every 15 minutes to begin the race. An awards ceremony rounded out the day of fun and team building.
Brett Wood from the Sierra Verde Ward said, “The Iditarod is so awesome. The race course competition challenges you mentally and physically. It teaches you teamwork. It is hard but rewarding.”
“We really enjoyed the Iditarod,” added JC May from the winning Daisy Mountain Ward. “It is a time for us to get to know each other and work as a team. Everyone pulled together and worked hard.”

I think of my own experience as a Laurel adviser. The young women in my stewardship had one year until they would be out in the world on their own. I asked them what they needed to know to be ready for that independence. From their list of needs—balancing a checkbook, applying for colleges and jobs, cooking something besides cookies, and so forth—we planned our Mutual activities. I no longer had any problems with attendance, because we were preparing skills the young women needed to fulfill their important future roles. I could see that in the process of learning temporal skills, some spiritual skills were developing simultaneously. There was more genuine friendship and concern for one another. Mothers told me that the spiritual tenor of their homes improved as the young women shared some of their newfound skills.