Gospel Story Finder

One day I was waiting outside the First Presidency boardroom. I had been invited there to take part in a meeting to discuss temple matters. I sat quietly outside the room, alone. I thought the First Presidency was already meeting and that I would be invited to join them in a few minutes.
As I sat there, I could hear someone walking down the hall whistling. I thought to myself, “Someone doesn’t understand proper protocol. You don’t go walking around whistling outside the office of the President of the Church.”
A moment later the whistler walked around the corner—it was President Monson. He was happy, and he was positive. He greeted me warmly and said, “I guess we’ll start the meeting in a couple of minutes.”
Even with the weight of the whole Church on his shoulders, he is an example of happiness and he always has a positive attitude. We should be that way.

After high school, like many freshmen, I was overwhelmed by my college courses and the challenges of simultaneously living away from home but also with five roommates.

This was when I learned to understand the strengthening and enabling power of Christ’s grace. I spent my days working and studying, but I depended on daily prayers in which I pled to Heavenly Father for the ability to complete the necessary tasks. As the school year continued, I discovered to my joy that with the strengthening and enabling power of Christ’s Atonement, I could function not only well but without difficulty.

Maggie loved things that matched. She wore her dark hair in two matching braids almost every day. Her purple backpack matched her purple notebook perfectly. And she carefully sorted her food into matching colors at lunchtime.
One day after lunch, Maggie walked out to the playground. She was about to join her friends when she saw someone sitting alone by the slide. It was a girl with long blonde hair.
Maggie sat down next to the girl. “What’s your name?” she asked.
“Anna,” the girl whispered. She sniffed and wiped her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Maggie asked.
“No one will play with me,” Anna said, looking up sadly at Maggie.
Then Maggie saw that Anna had pretty green eyes. Maggie knew another girl who also had green eyes and blonde hair. The two girls would match perfectly!
“I know someone who can play with you!” Maggie told Anna.
“You do?” Anna asked with a hopeful smile.
“Yes! Sarah from my class.” Maggie pointed to a girl jumping rope. “See her over there? She would probably play with you.”
“Oh,” Anna said. Her face melted back into a frown.
Maggie didn’t know what to do next. “Well, I’ll see you later,” she said, standing up and walking over to her friends.
But Maggie couldn’t forget Anna’s sad eyes. That night at dinner, she told her family about what happened.
“She needed someone to play with?” Mom asked.
“Yeah,” Maggie said, “but she wouldn’t go ask Sarah to play, even though they both have blonde hair and green eyes.”
Dad looked over at Maggie. “Why didn’t you play with Anna?”
Maggie’s mouth fell open. “Because—because—Sarah and the girl matched!”
“Hmm,” Mom said as she wiped the baby’s face. “Do you remember what Jesus says about how we should treat other people?”
“We should love them?” Maggie said. Mom smiled and nodded.
“It doesn’t matter whether our body looks the same as someone else’s,” Dad said. “It doesn’t even really matter if they think the same way we do, or believe in the same things. The most important thing is that our actions match what Jesus taught.”
Maggie felt a warm tingling in her body, and she knew that Dad was right. “I’ll remember that,” she said.
The next day at recess, Maggie looked for Anna. She found her sitting alone by the sandbox.
“Hi,” Maggie said.
“Hello,” Anna said quietly.
“Do you want to come play with my friends and me?”
Now Anna looked up! Her green eyes sparkled brightly as a smile spread across her face.
“Really?” she asked.
“Really!” Maggie said, helping Anna stand.
This feels like a perfect match, Maggie thought as the two ran off to play.

I began meeting with my bishop regularly in working through the repentance process and Church discipline. He recommended I attend meetings of the addiction recovery program, offered through LDS Family Services. I had never heard of the program. I learned that the group held free, confidential meetings based on the 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous, adapted into a framework of the doctrines and principles of the Church.
I admit that during the first few meetings, I thought, “I don’t need to be here. I don’t really have a problem with pornography. I can quit any time.” That, of course, wasn’t true.
With my bishop’s encouragement, I continued to attend. My pride began to melt away, and I began to work the steps of the program: honesty, hope, trust in God, truth, confession, change of heart, humility, seeking forgiveness, restitution and reconciliation, daily accountability, personal revelation, and service. For the first time in a long time, I was living a “sober” life, a life free of pornography. Recovery isn’t ever really “over,” but I had been introduced to a new level of freedom. It came because as I participated in the 12 steps, I came to understand what was behind my addiction.
Knowing what triggered my addiction was one thing. Avoiding environments that aided my addiction was another. This stance requires being vigilant 24 hours a day, seven days a week for the rest of my life. I cannot get online “just to browse.” In fact, if I am by myself, I don’t go online at all. I can’t look at an ad and entertain thoughts in my mind. We don’t have cable TV in our home. When I commute to work, I avoid taking certain roads because I know there are billboards along those roads that could trigger inappropriate thoughts. If I start to slip and my mind begins to wander, I turn to my wife, to my bishop, and to prayer for strength.
My addiction affects the most minute parts of my life, but taking these precautions is worth it. I cannot neglect these defenses because I know what my addiction can do to me and to those I love.
It’s not just a matter of avoiding the bad, though. I also must make constant, conscious efforts to turn to the good. Several of the 12 steps have helped me do this by bringing me closer to God.
Every day when I wake up, I get on my knees and thank Heavenly Father for giving me the opportunity to repent of my sins and to come to Him through the Atonement of His Son, Jesus Christ. I ask Him to let me know His will so that I can do it. I ask Him to lead me away from temptation. I pray as though I rely on Heavenly Father every minute of the day—because I do—and I keep that prayer in my heart throughout the day. I pray again each night. I also spend some time in the scriptures daily so that I can focus my thoughts on virtuous things. If I don’t make these a habit, I don’t have the Spirit in my life. And left on my own, I am not strong enough to resist temptation.
For a long time I believed I could overcome my behavior anytime I wanted to by my own willpower. But I failed miserably. After a while I got tired of doing it on my own, especially when “on my own” wasn’t working. I realized that I could not do what I needed to do without the Lord’s help. Ether 12:27 helped me understand this better. The Lord told Moroni, “My grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”
Once I went to Him, still doing all I could do (see 2 Nephi 25:23), I realized that I could do much better and become much more with His help than I ever could dream of by relying on my own merits (see Alma 7:14).
My wife and I now serve as facilitators at the addiction recovery program meetings. She has learned—and is helping others understand—that the Atonement is for not only those who are working to overcome an addiction but also those who have been affected by the addiction through no choice of their own. If we turn to the Savior, His grace can work in all of our lives.

May I conclude with the inspiring example of Melissa Engle of West Valley, Utah. Melissa is featured in the August 1992 issue of the New Era. She tells her own story:
“When I was born I only had a thumb on my right hand because the umbilical cord got wrapped around my fingers and [severed them]. My dad wanted to find something I could do to strengthen my hand and make it useful. Playing the violin seemed like a natural because I wouldn’t have to finger with both hands, like you would with a flute. …
“I’ve been playing for about eight years now. I take private lessons, and I have to work at things like a paper route to help pay for them. I get to [my violin] lessons by riding a bus across town. …
“A highlight [of my life] was Interlochen, located on a lake in Michigan, one of the best music camps in the world for [youth]. I sent in my application for the eight weeks of intensive music training and couldn’t believe I [was] accepted.
“The only problem was money. It costs thousands of dollars, and there was no way [I could] make that much before the deadline. So I prayed and prayed, and about a week before I had to send in the money, I was called into the office of a man who had a grant for someone with a handicap who was pursuing the arts. That, to me, was a miracle. … I’m really grateful for it” (“Something You Really Love,” New Era, Aug. 1992, pp. 30–31).
Melissa, when she received the grant, turned to her mother, who had been anxious not to see her daughter disappointed and had thus attempted to curb her enthusiasm and hope, and said, “Mother, I told you Heavenly Father answers prayers, for look how He has answered mine.”
He that notes a sparrow’s fall had fulfilled a child’s dream, answered a child’s prayer.

Between 1990 and 1994, Rwanda was torn apart by an ethnic conflict that led to hundreds of thousands of killings between April and July 1994. These tragic events impacted the lives of nearly every person in the country. During this time, 11-year-old Agnes Twagiramariya witnessed a neighbor killing her parents, four of her siblings, and many of her extended family members. For the next 12 years, Agnes wrestled with the pain of her family members’ deaths. “To lose my family, especially my parents,” Agnes explained, “is a very bad thing in my life and it had caused some behaviors like being alone, to hate people, to be unhappy for some time with a broken heart.”
In 2006, while she was studying at the University of Kigali, Agnes moved into a home with her cousin Yvonne, who was a member of the Church. While they lived together, Yvonne began to share Church videos about Jesus Christ and the Restoration of His gospel through Joseph Smith. Eventually, Yvonne invited Agnes to read the Book of Mormon and to attend Church meetings with her.
“The first thing that attracted me was the teachings,” Agnes said later. “The other thing is the behavior of some Church members; they behave like children of the Lord.”
Agnes was baptized on June 13, 2010. Soon she was called to teach children in the quickly growing Primary of the Kigali Branch. As her joy in the gospel grew, however, Agnes still wondered if she would see her family again, if they were still in pain, and what life after death was like for them. In 2012, Agnes traveled to Johannesburg, South Africa, to attend the temple for the first time—and be sealed to her deceased parents and siblings for eternity.
While loss will always be a part of her life, Agnes found healing through the restored gospel. “I have started to smile and talk again,” Agnes said. “I made changes in my life, and I can be happy for a long time. I’m peaceful with a forgiving heart.”
“I am able to forgive those killers of my family,” she noted. “For me, forgiveness is a gift I’ve received after understanding the gospel.”
Christ, who had suffered in the house of His friends (see Zechariah 13:6), knew how to reach her in her struggles.
“The true Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints became my bridge to leaving the life of confusion to the life of truth, from the sadness to the real happiness, from sorrow to joy, from anger to forgiveness,” she said. “I testify that our Savior Jesus Christ loves us, and He wants us to be happy and to have real joy.”

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.

Thank you for the interesting articles about decorating your room without spending a lot of money. I have found the ideas very helpful—especially in fixing up a shabby wooden desk and bookcase. My sister and I got a pale color to match the walls and painted both pieces; then we got a darker color and put on the edges of the shelves and around the edge of the top of the desk. It looks great.
Kathy OkerlundOrem, Utah

One night in Chicago, my wife, June, and I were taking a sister home from a ward meeting. I parked outside the apartment house and accompanied the sister into the lobby and to her door. June remained in the car and locked all the doors. I left the key in the ignition in case she needed to drive away. We lived on the south side of Chicago and were accustomed to taking such precautions.
Before returning outside, I looked carefully in each direction. I saw three young men walking by, so I waited until they were out of sight, and then I walked quickly toward our car.
As I paused for June to unlock the car door, I saw one of the young men running back toward me. Fortunately June saw him coming around the end of the car with a gun in his hand and didn’t unlock the door.
The young man pushed the gun against my stomach and said, “Give me your money.” I took out my wallet and showed him it was empty.
“Give me your car keys,” he demanded. “They are in the car,” I told him. “Tell her to open the car,” he replied. When I refused, he was furious. He jabbed me in the stomach with his gun and said, “Do it, or I’ll kill you.” Again I refused. He repeated his demands, again emphasizing them with his gun.
Not knowing what else to do, June waited and prayed. Then a peaceful feeling came over her, and she felt that everything would be all right.
From behind the robber, a city bus approached. The young man became distracted, and his gun wavered from my stomach. I realized that with a quick motion I could seize the gun without the likelihood of being shot.
But just then the Spirit let me know what would happen if I grabbed that gun: We’d struggle, and I would turn the gun into the young man’s chest. It would fire, and he would die. I also understood that I must not have the blood of that young man on my conscience for the rest of my life.
I relaxed and, following an impulse, put my right hand on his shoulder. “Look,” I said. “What you’re doing just isn’t right. You could get killed or sent to jail for this.”
The young robber went through his demands for the third time, but this time his voice was subdued. When I refused again, he hesitated for a moment, then ran away. June unlocked the door, and we drove off, uttering a prayer of thanks.
I am grateful that the Lord gave me the vision and strength that night to refrain from trusting in the arm of flesh and to put my trust instead in the protecting care of our Heavenly Father.

I’m not what most people would consider a convert to the Church. I was baptized when I was eight, and I have gone to church all my life. But when it came time to serve a mission, I decided not to go.
I thought about a mission, and I even prayed about it. But I never felt that I received an answer. I decided I didn’t want to go on a mission for someone who didn’t answer my prayers.
As the months went by and my friends started to leave for their missions, I started to grow farther away from the Church. Soon I quit going to church altogether. Before long I noticed I wasn’t very happy with my life. I couldn’t understand it. I was going to college and working at a ski resort. I had a nice car and a girlfriend. But I still wasn’t happy. It was about this time that the stake president’s secretary called me for an appointment. I couldn’t imagine why the stake president wanted to see me, but I went ahead and set up a time.
When I arrived at his office, the stake president said, “You probably wonder why I wanted to speak with you tonight.” I told him that I did. He explained that he was talking with all the young men of the stake who were my age to find out what they were doing with their lives.
Oh great, I thought, another person who’s going to tell me to go on a mission. But the stake president surprised me when he told me that my decision about a mission was between me and the Lord. We talked about my plans for the future, and then he said, “I want you to do two things for me. Will you pray and read the Book of Mormon?”
I told him that I would, even though I had no real intention of doing so. But over the next few days, I couldn’t get the stake president’s words out of my head: “Pray and read the Book of Mormon.”
One morning a couple of days later, I got up and got ready for work. Before I left, I grabbed my mom’s old copy of the Book of Mormon and stuck it in my backpack. That day, I was assigned to work at one of the slowest lifts at the resort. As I was sitting in the top shack, I decided to read some of the Book of Mormon. I’ve read 1 Nephi about 300 times, so I decided to start at Jacob and read from there. I remembered that when you read the scriptures, you are also supposed to pray to know if they’re true, so I offered a brief but sincere prayer, and then began my reading. I read Jacob, then Enos, Jarom, and Omni. The crew foreman called and told me someone was going to come and relieve me for lunch. I told him I’d like to skip lunch and stay at that lift the rest of the day. I kept reading.
By the end of the day I had read from Jacob to Alma, and I understood it. I had an overwhelming feeling to share the things that I had read with everyone that I could. The things I read made me happy. I felt excited but also peaceful. I knew that the Book of Mormon was true. There was no way to deny it.
Earlier I had felt that the Lord hadn’t answered my prayer about whether to serve a mission or not. What I hadn’t thought about is the fact that I already had an answer. I already knew that it is the responsibility of every young man to serve a mission.
Although I’m not what most people would consider a convert to the Church, that day at the ski lift I was converted, and the desire I felt to share the things I read stayed with me. I’m now serving a mission in San Bernardino, California. I’m so grateful that I didn’t pass up this chance to serve.

President J. Scott Dorius of the Peru Lima West Mission told me their story. He said:
“Becky and I were married for 25 years without being able to have [or adopt] children. We moved several times. Introducing ourselves in each new setting was awkward and sometimes painful. Ward members wondered why we [didn’t have] children. They weren’t the only ones wondering.
“When I was called as a bishop, ward members [expressed] concern that I did not have any experience with children and teenagers. I thanked them for their sustaining vote and asked them to allow me to practice my child-raising skills on their children. They lovingly obliged.
“We waited, gained perspective, and learned patience. After 25 years of marriage, a miracle baby came into our lives. We adopted two-year-old Nicole and then newborn Nikolai. Strangers now compliment us on our beautiful grandchildren. We laugh and say, ‘They are our children. We have lived our lives backwards.’”18

Kris liked the sport from the start. She won her first tournament at eight and has been playing in singles, doubles, and mixed doubles competition ever since. During the winter months of her Primary years, Kris played at 5:00 A.M. on a makeshift court—a tennis net strung across a BYU basketball practice floor. Getting up early became a habit, and Kris attended early morning seminary in order to schedule her other classes and leave school at noon for more tennis practice.

Having spent the past five summers traveling, she’s gathered recognitions and friends across the nation and finds the social advantages of tennis as appealing as the game’s challenge. Playing in tournaments has also given Kris good opportunities to talk about the gospel. “Most people know something about the Church but are generally reluctant to bring it up. Many know friends and neighbors who are members, often converts. They know that we don’t swear and that we believe in the Word of Wisdom.”

She’s also noticed that people watch more than her game when they find out she’s LDS. “I’ve realized that I’m observed by other tennis players and tournament officials when they find out I’m a member of the Church, and a bad show of temper doesn’t impress new friends. A lot of kids get away from their homes and want to party. Many of them lack direction in their lives and are very unsettled. The gospel gives my life such purpose that I find I’m respected for my beliefs.”

Match victories are as much a ribbon for her parents as for Kris’s exacting backhand. Her mother has been a faithful chaperon, sideline supporter, and confidant; and Kris calls her dad “my sponsor.” Her scrapbook is a two-volume collage of pictures, newspaper clippings, tournament programs, airline tickets, and autographs of tennis stars.

Kris feels working with the BYU women’s team, an opportunity given her by Ann Valentine, BYU women’s coach, has been the greatest boost to her game. Playing on the school’s indoor courts has allowed her to practice year-round, while the school’s televised replay of games has let her see her weaknesses. “People can tell you repeatedly you’re doing something wrong, but there’s a chance you may not grasp the concept. Once you see your mistakes, you can improve. The errors become really obvious on television.”

As the first girl to play on a varsity sports squad at Provo High, Kris found the tennis team a fun experience and good practice. But it was often hard on her opponents who were ribbed by friends for competing and losing to a girl. She graduated a semester early so she could devote more time to her game before entering BYU this fall.

For people taking up the sport Kris says, “I would hesitate learning from a book. Private lessons are the best, but make sure the teacher is good. Group lessons can also be a good start, but many don’t teach the basics. Some teach too much at once; others confuse the order of importance.”

Garage-door tennis has its strong and weak points. “It helps concentration, form, and consistency. It can also strengthen your wrist and help you train your eye on the ball, but as a regular practice routine it may get monotonous. After a while you learn to anticipate backboard returns. You also don’t have to run as much and this will slow you down in a real court situation. There’s nothing as good as playing with a tough opponent.”

Almost as important as good instruction in the basics is equipment. Beginners often overlook some essentials, says Kris. Foot blisters and cramped muscles won’t improve your game. Keep the following in mind:

When selecting a new racquet, test your racquet grips. They are generally 4 3/8 or 4 1/2 for women and 4 1/2 or 4 5/8 for men, depending on hand size. Not all 4 1/2 grips have the same feel. There may be some variation in the actual measurement.
Leave your racquet out of a press unless you don’t plan to use it for long periods of time. Use of a press also depends on the area you live in. Humid climates require the use of a press more frequently.
Playing with gut strings is more expensive but gives you a better hold on the ball. If they get wet, however, they are ruined. Nylon is slicker, with less control, but is not affected as much by water.
Squeeze balls to see if they’re dead. The more you are able to squeeze a ball, the less bounce it has. (Dead balls make good service practice balls.)
Wear extra pairs of socks if your feet blister, plus a good shock-absorbing innersole.
In considering the comparative qualities of wood versus metal racquets, personal preference prevails. Kris feels that placing precision shots is easier with wood racquets. Aluminum racquets, because they are more flexible, provide more power and speed.
With beginners there are some common problems. Males often attempt overpowering shots that inevitably end up outside the baseline or in the net. Some girls tend to be slow and indecisive in their footwork. Both men and women will watch the ball attentively until it’s about three feet away and then take their eyes off it. Keeping your eye on the ball at all times will mean more accurate shots.
“Tennis is becoming an increasingly popular game because people are realizing the importance of individual sports. You can play the game for a lifetime, and you don’t need to have a team,” says Kris. “It’s great exercise, both mentally and physically, and a fun way to socialize and meet new people. The clothes are becoming more attractive, especially for women. And it’s no longer strictly associated with country club types—more and more young people are taking up the sport.”

When Kris attended a Pancho Gonzales tennis school and played with the tennis great, he commented, “There’s another woman who’s coming up to beat the men.” But Kris says her real match will be with children. She wants to teach the game to children. Their energy, enthusiasm, and stick-to-itiveness are what tennis takes—and what Kris has had for years.

1. Don’t walk across the back of a court when others are playing. It’s very annoying to them.
2. Don’t applaud the mistakes of others at a tournament. Applaud only fine plays or shots.
3. Take turns bringing the balls so that your partner isn’t the one to always end up with dead balls.
4. If you don’t know whether the ball is in or out when you are receiving, give your opponent the point.
5. Call the shots on your side of the net and let your opponent call the ones on his side.
6. If you disagree with his call, ask for a re-serve.
7. Retrieve balls hit into your court from another. When you hit one into another player’s court, wait for him to return it. If he doesn’t, do not go onto his court to pick it up until a stop in his game.
8. When playing doubles, don’t hog the court; play your side.
9. If a ball comes between doubles players and there is a doubt as to who will hit it, call your shot. It should preferably go to a player’s forehand.
10. Volunteer to play doubles when others are waiting for a court, or cut down your singles playing time.

Susan wandered into the kitchen, where Mother was busy fixing dinner.
“Would you go get the baby for me, please?” asked Mother. “He just woke up, and this afternoon’s fun has put me way behind in everything.”
Susan’s younger brother Mark had spent a lot of time during the week sanding and painting his car for his first Pinewood Derby race. The derby had lasted longer than expected, so the baby had been taking a late nap while Mother tried to get supper ready.
Susan brought little Jonathan into the kitchen, pulled out a chair from the table, and held the baby on her lap. She sat there so quietly that her mother looked over at her and asked, “Why so sad?”
Susan was staring at Mark’s trophy on the kitchen counter. Mark hadn’t had a very fast car, but it had won the prize for “best looking car.”
“I’ll never get a trophy,” Susan said, sounding very discouraged. “When I went to Lynn’s birthday party last week, I saw her trophies for baton twirling. Claudia has a trophy from her dancing class, and when we visited Grandma last summer, I saw all of Uncle Robert’s racquetball trophies. The only thing that I’m in is the stamp club, and nobody gives trophies for that!”
“You know what?” Mother asked slowly. “I think that you already have some trophies.”
“I do?” Susan thought for a minute. “No, I don’t. Not even one.”
“Oh, I’m not talking about that kind of trophy.” Mother flicked her hand at the trophy sitting on the counter as if that kind of trophy wasn’t special at all. “The kind of trophy that I’m talking about is an invisible one.”
Susan looked puzzled. “An invisible trophy?”
“Well, right now you’re tending your baby brother, and he’s learning to love you, just the way Mark and your little sister do. Remember how you played house with Beth yesterday after school, even though you had other things that you wanted to do? Love is a wonderful kind of trophy, but it’s not the kind that you can see on a shelf.”
Susan looked doubtful as she gave baby Jonathan a squeeze.
Mother smiled and said, “I know of another trophy that you’ve earned. You practice the piano before school every morning, and I never have to remind you. Nobody hands out trophies for practicing without being nagged, but learning to do things on your own is an invisible trophy that will last forever.”
“What good is a trophy,” Susan wanted to know, “if nobody can see it?”
“Remember last fall,” her mother answered, “when a new girl came into your class and some of the kids weren’t very nice to her? You were the first one to be her friend and make her feel wanted. You certainly deserve a trophy for that, but friendship is its own reward, and a plaque on the wall announcing the fact would only spoil it.”
Susan was quiet as Mother put the meat loaf into the oven, but as she looked one more time at the Pinewood Derby trophy on the counter, she said wistfully, “I still think it would be fun to have a trophy to put on my bedroom shelf.”
“Oh, you still have plenty of life ahead of you to collect some of those,” Mother told her. “Just remember that you will probably never get one for the things that really count.”
“Why doesn’t anybody give out trophies like that?” Susan asked.
“I guess that the things that matter most are hard to measure. But when you do good things, you feel good, and that’s better than a whole roomful of this kind of trophy.” Mother kissed Susan on the forehead as she picked up the baby from her lap. “Besides,” she continued, “Heavenly Father can see the real you inside, and He knows that you’re worth a lot! Now, want to help me change a wet baby?”
“Sure thing.” Susan jumped up and followed her mother out of the kitchen without a backward glance at the brown and gold trophy on the counter.

Shannon Welty of Centerville, Utah, is saving the lives of African children—with puppets.
“When little children get sick with diarrhea and vomiting, the parents don’t know it’s dangerous to restrict water,” Shannon explains. “Because their children are discharging liquid they think they have had too much moisture, so they stop giving them food and water. The children end up dying from dehydration.”
Instead of waiting for some international committee to help, Shannon organized a service project to teach African villagers how to treat sick children. She persuaded people in her hometown to donate materials, enlisted elementary school students as volunteers, and spent many hours preparing 13 puppet kits.
The puppets will be used to tell a story about a little boy who is sick with dehydration and how to treat him. Contacts in Mali, Botswana, Zimbabwe, and Burkina Faso will receive and translate the kits.
“I couldn’t have imagined I’d be saving lives by making puppets,” Shannon says. “People were asking how I felt saving someone’s life and that’s when it hit me. Service is really Christlike because he saved everyone.”

I don’t think I had ever even seen a homeless person until I moved to Puerto Rico with my family before my junior year of high school. Then the day after Christmas, the youth and leaders of my ward gathered at the church building to put together boxes of food to distribute to the homeless people who live on the streets of Old San Juan.
I had been to Old San Juan several times, but there weren’t any homeless people out during the day, or else I just hadn’t noticed them. When we arrived in the city, each of us set out with one box and the hope we would find someone who needed what we had to offer.
To my surprise, it wasn’t difficult. The first man we saw was selling little bags of tostones that his wife had made. When we asked him if he could use the food we had, he smiled and took it, thanking us until we were too far away to hear him. Before we left, he handed us a bag of his snacks to show his appreciation.
After giving away four of our boxes, we had only one box left. We got in the car and decided we would keep our eyes out for someone. It was getting late, and we needed to get back to the wardhouse.
As we were driving, one of the girls in the car told the driver to stop. “Do you see that guy over there?” she asked.
“Yeah, but he doesn’t look homeless.”
“I know, but I have seen him three times tonight, and he’s just been walking around.”
With that, she jumped out of the car and yelled, “Necesita comida?” or “Do you need food?”
The sweetest, most sincere smile I have ever seen came to his face as she handed him the box, covered with Christmas wrapping and filled with food.
A tear fell down his cheek as he said, “Feliz Navidad!” We could tell by his “Merry Christmas” greeting that one box filled with crackers, apples, and juice made a difference in his life.

Serving a mission was a sacred time of my life. In my last interview with him as a full-time missionary, President Blair Pincock spoke of the upcoming change in mission leaders, as he and his wife were also nearing the completion of their service. We were both sad to be leaving something we loved so much. He could see that I was troubled by the thought of not being a full-time missionary. He was a man of great faith and lovingly taught me as he had for the previous two years. He pointed to the picture of Jesus Christ above his desk and said, “Elder Olsen, it is all going to be OK because it is His work.” I felt reassured knowing that the Savior will help us, not just while we are serving but always—if we will let Him.

I express gratitude for a living prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley. Last November he visited many South American countries, including Chile. That same week Chile hosted an important summit meeting for all nations of Latin America. There were presidents and dignitaries from 16 different countries. Streets in the areas where they stayed and met were barricaded. Day and night, sirens wailed and red lights flashed to make way for those men as they traveled back and forth from their meetings. In the midst of all the commotion, President Hinckley arrived. There was no fanfare and no special welcome, recognition, or privilege extended to him. Two vans left the airport and maneuvered through the streets of Santiago, one carrying the Lord’s living prophet. At the hotel there were police and guards to protect the summit visitors, while President Hinckley, with his family and others, entered unnoticed.

The next day, as President Hinckley spoke to over 50,000 Saints and testified of Christ and of His Church, one could feel his conviction. He told all present that he wanted them to remember that they had heard Gordon B. Hinckley say that God lives and Jesus is the Christ. He counseled the Saints to put their lives in order, to teach their children the ways of the Lord, and to form eternal families by being sealed in the temple. At the conclusion of the conference, with tears in their eyes and a testimony in their hearts that here, truly, was a prophet of God on earth, the vast congregation stood and waved white handkerchiefs in farewell. President Hinckley took his handkerchief from his pocket and with love returned their farewell. I know, as those many Saints in Chile and throughout the world know, that President Gordon B. Hinckley is the living prophet of God on earth. I am grateful for him and for his example.

President Thomas S. Monson tells of a Robert Blatchford who, 100 years ago “in his book God and My Neighbor, attacked with vigor accepted Christian beliefs, such as God, Christ, prayer, and immortality. He boldly asserted, ‘I claim to have proved everything I set out to prove so fully and decisively that no Christian, however great or able he may be, can answer my arguments or shake my case.’ He surrounded himself with a wall of skepticism. Then a surprising thing happened. His wall suddenly crumbled to dust. … Slowly he began to feel his way back to the faith he had scorned and ridiculed. What had caused this profound change in his outlook? His wife [had] died. With a broken heart, he went into the room where lay all that was mortal of her. He looked again at the face he loved so well. Coming out, he said to a friend: ‘It is she, and yet it is not she. Everything is changed. Something that was there before is taken away. She is not the same. What can be gone if it be not the soul?’”

One thing that happens in Anne of Green Gables is that the main character has to cut off her hair after trying to dye it. I recently cut my hair short too, but for a different reason. My mom and I read in the newspaper that you can donate hair for wigs for people who are sick or don’t have hair. A couple of women in our branch had cancer and lost their hair, and I have an uncle and a cousin with a medical condition that makes their hair fall out. Thinking of them made me want to help. So I grew my hair out for more than a year and cut off nine inches to donate. Now some of my friends are donating their hair too!

Let me share with you some things I have discovered over the years, especially while I was involved in football. I didn’t have much confidence, but I wanted to play almost more than anything else. The coach told us to eat a lot of beans and drink lots of milk. I didn’t like milk, but I drank it. I really wasn’t all that hot on beans, but I persuaded Mom to make a pot as often as I could. The coach said to be in bed by 9:30, and I was in bed by 9:30. It wasn’t hard to do because the desire to play overshadowed all these little things. One thing the coach asked me to do that I couldn’t do was work out on Sunday. He had asked each player to do calisthenics on an individual basis on Sunday. In this thing I followed the teachings of the Church.

At regular football practice I would do every calisthenic exercise the best I possibly could. I felt like I needed to do more than the other guy because he had more talent than I did. I only remember missing one football practice in three years, with the exception of when I broke my leg. The one practice I missed was for my grandmother’s funeral. And even at that age I hoped the funeral would be at a time other than practice. For four weeks after I broke my leg I would go out and watch the team play. After four weeks I persuaded the doctor to take the cast off, and six weeks after my leg had been broken I had the privilege of playing in another game.