Gospel Story Finder

I love this law and have received tremendous blessings from learning how to apply it. When I was a student at BYU, I realized that I needed to think more positively. I started working on this, and every time I caught myself thinking or talking to myself in negative, reactive ways, saying, “Your backhand stinks” or “Don’t miss that backhand,” I would stop that thought and immediately replace it with thoughts such as “I love my backhand” or “I am going to rip it down the line.” And instead of saying to myself, “School is tough; BYU is too hard for me,” I started telling myself, “I’ve got this; I can get good grades.” At some point I realized that I would always say to myself, “Don’t forget this” or “You’d better not forget this for the exam,” so one of my favorite phrases became “I will remember this.”

It took some time, but everything started to change. I was playing amazing tennis (at least for me), and I was studying half the time and getting better grades—a lot better. More important, there was no more fear. This change in thinking was a constant work in progress, and I constantly battled to apply the Lord’s lessons.

When 12-year-old Malachi Priest of Nottingham 1st Ward heard about the Captain Tom Moore’s 100 Challenge, he was very keen to take part. Malachi’s school, the Priory Ruskin Academy, had encouraged pupils to do a sponsored activity one hundred times and to donate the money to the St. Barnabas Hospice Trust, that supports people across Lincolnshire.
Malachi has enjoyed dancing from an early age and with the suggestion of his mother, Elaine, he excitedly decided that his fundraising activity would be 100 video dance games. He did four sets of 25 dances over three days, taking five hours 28 minutes and 21 seconds to complete. He said he felt exhausted after each session but, thinking of being able to help others and the encouraging support from his family, helped him carry on. Malachi’s four older siblings Rebekah, Rachael, Joseph, and Ethan supported him by taking turns dancing along with him in some of the sessions. This inspired Malachi to finish and raise over £1,000 in sponsorship.
Malachi’s charitable work caught the attention of the local media. A picture and report appeared in the local newspaper, The Grantham Journal. The local radio station, Radio Lincolnshire, interviewed Malachi and his mother. Malachi also appeared on two television news programmes: ITV Central News, and ‘Make a Difference’ on BBC East Midland News.
Some of the comments made to the local media by Malachi included: “I will be celebrating the extraordinary spirit of Captain Tom my way and help my chosen charity. Please donate to help me reach my goal, or even go beyond” and “Thank you everyone who has supported me. I did it! I followed in Captain Tom’s footsteps and danced my way down the path. I danced 100 dances from Just Dance 2021 (animated dances for downloading on electronic games ‘boxes’).”
Elaine said: “He absolutely loves dancing. It’s lovely. He’s such a kind boy, he always has been.” After he completed the challenge, she added: “Malachi feels great. I asked him when he finished if he still enjoyed dancing? Bless him, He smiled a great big smile and replied, ‘Yes, I still love dancing’” (Grantham Journal, 6 May 2021).
On Malachi’s fundraising site he gave the reason he wanted to participate and do the 100 dances, “Because I love dancing, and being kind.”

Thanking God that there is rain reminds me of a friend who personifies ThanksLiving. Here’s one last story.

This is my friend Grif the Great.

Grif is amazing. He was a few months old when he was diagnosed with a disease that affects how his blood carries oxygen. When he was four years old, he suffered a massive five-day long stroke that affected the entire left side of his body. He lost his hearing, sight, speech, and the control of his limbs.

Grif the Great is a fighter. He worked hard the next two years to relearn how to use his body. He had some long-term effects, and he couldn’t communicate verbally very much. But he didn’t need words. Grif the Great has an innate ability to tell who is having a bad day. Seeing someone who was sad, he’d cradle their face in his hands, curl up in their lap, or put his arm around them. His smile is 1000 watts of love.

He endured many more physical trials over the next few years, including regular blood transfusions, bouts of epilepsy, and frequent hospital visits. The doctors would constantly tell the family he only had six more months to live, and they’d repeat that every six months. Through it all, Grif the Great spread love and happiness wherever he went.

This picture—one of my favorite pictures ever, which I often look at when I’m having a metaphorical rainy day—says it all. Instead of complaining about the rain, Grif the Great embraces it. He is thankful for the smell and taste of raindrops. Who cares about the rain ruining a school assembly? Rain is a good thing. Be thankful for rain. That’s Grif in a nutshell.

In March last year, a few months after his baptism, on a beautiful Spring day full of his usual happiness and love, Grif the Great suddenly fell unconscious, and never woke up again. Grif the Great’s 1000-watt smile is now lighting up heaven.

I want to live in Thanksgiving like Grif the Great.

I received an answer to a prayer when I was very young and living in Pocatello, Idaho. I had a pet rabbit that was very important to me. One day it got out of its cage and could not be found. I was worried that the neighborhood dogs and cats might hurt my rabbit. I looked everywhere, then decided to go behind our wooden shed and pray. As my prayer ended, I instantly knew where to find my rabbit. I looked under a pile of boards and found it. Our prayers can be answered by the Holy Ghost putting thoughts into our minds.

Sister Eileen Taylor of the Oldham Ward, Ashton Stake, lives in an area which has many back-to-back terraced houses, with some being built between 1900-1929. Between the streets are alleyways with the original cobbled stone.
Some residents began throwing furniture and rubbish bags into the alley, turning it into an eyesore. This is when Sister Taylor and her friend Maureen decided to do something about it. They began to have meetings with councillors and environmentalists to make changes and improve the state of the alley.
After two years of concerted efforts, they obtained enough money to make an amazing transformation. Solar lamps were added to lighten the alley at night, specially made fold up benches were attached to the walls, printed and framed photographs of Oldham’s cotton industry and other local historical events were displayed. Frames were made and painted for hanging baskets, and the wooden back gates were painted to add colour to the area.
Eileen and Maureen were awarded a certificate from “Britain in Bloom” and became involved with the Greener, Cleaner Environment Exchange Programme. They were invited to speak in other areas, such as Preston, regarding the environment and its impact on health and well-being.
The alley became a colourful vibrant place where children could play safely and adults could sit and chat. The children who lived here said, “It makes us happy seeing the flowers!” and they enjoyed helping to water them.
When Covid-19 kicked in, things sadly reverted. In November 2023, this changed when one of the Oldham councillors encouraged the friends to apply for a small “Love Where You Live” grant, enabling the renewal of flowers and worn items. This meant many hours spent over several months, buying and transporting the items needed to re-create a beautiful environment.
They both enjoy sitting in the alley with their neighbours, watching the children play. It has created a special communal feeling. Two people changed the alley, and it became a beacon for other areas. A true success story.

I was on an island down in French Oceania one Sunday afternoon. I started fooling with the radio. I don’t know whether you’re supposed to play radios on Sunday afternoon or not, but I started turning the dials. All of a sudden I heard the voice of Richard L. Evans from the Tabernacle in Salt Lake City. The strange thing about it was that I wasn’t in contact with Salt Lake City; I was in tune with a station in Houston, Texas. That station was getting the program from Salt Lake City, and I was picking it up from Houston. I can’t explain these things. Some of you fellows can. I can’t explain them. But I had an instrument there which man had invented so that he could bring under his control and directions these elements out here.
I was over in Samoa. I couldn’t sleep for worrying about the centipedes and so forth, so I got up. It was three o’clock in the morning. I went in the room where they had the radio. I started turning the dials, and all of a sudden I heard a voice say, “Station KSL, Salt Lake City. Songs of Harry Clark.” I sat there and listened to Harry Clark sing for fifteen minutes. Then I had to get up the next morning at three o’clock because I’d sent him a wire and I wanted to see if he got it. He did. He mentioned it over the air. So I listened to him sing for another fifteen minutes. You know, the strange thing about it was, I was hearing him sing four hours before he actually sang. And you talk about miracles.
I got on a plane one day in Tonga. It was Saturday morning, the Sabbath of the Seventh-day Adventists. The head of the Seventh-day Adventists’ mission in the Pacific got on the plane with me. Down at the airport were his Sunday School children, giving him a send-off, singing hymns and so on. Well, we got on that plane Saturday morning, and we went to Samoa. When we arrived at Samoa, it was Friday, the day before we left Tonga. I just wondered how he was going to straighten out that “seventh day” business. He’d already had one Saturday, one Sabbath, and here he was again in Samoa on a Friday, the day before he’d had the Sabbath. The next day he had another. Now I tried to find him to ask him from which Saturday he was going to start counting the seven days. Well, these things happen. This is going on all over the world.

Let me give you another example. Last time I talked here I gave you this example, but because a young woman came up to me after the talk and questioned me about it I want to repeat it tonight. A bishop in California called me just before general conference and said, “President Tanner, I have a young man here who is having real problems, and he would like to meet you because he thinks you can help him. He knows you are interested in young people and have had experience with them.”

I said, “If you bring him over I’ll be very happy to talk to him at conference time.” He brought him over and he was dressed as a hippie—every sign: hair, clothes, and everything. I said, “What is your problem?”

He said, “I’ll tell you. I’m a returned missionary. I filled a good mission, I believe. But when I came home something happened to cause me to get this rebellious feeling, and I went out determined that the Church wasn’t going to tell me what to do. I was going to choose my own life and live as I felt I would like to live and be free. And I became associated with these hippies. Today I’m a slave. I’m a drug addict. I am guilty of a felony. I am one who is evading the law.” We talked for some time. Then he said, “I have a wife and I have a child, and here I am in this condition. It isn’t what I wanted, it isn’t what I want, but I am in this situation.” We talked it over, and at my suggestion he agreed that he would disassociate himself from the group, that he would clean himself up, and go back and turn himself over to the law.

Just a few weeks later, I received a letter from him. It started out this way, “Dear President Tanner, I’m writing from behind prison walls.” Then he reviewed our conversation, and he said, “If your use of this letter would help anybody determine never to touch drugs or to associate with or become a part of any such group, please feel free to use it.”

I first discovered that a BYU campus existed in Hawaii when I was 13-years old and instantly knew this was where I wanted to attend college. I had never been to Hawaii but I knew I was destined to be here. Thankfully I was accepted and when the time came, I was excited and nervous to move to Hawaii. I arrived in Honolulu late at night and was picked up by the “Coconut Express” shuttle sent by BYUHSA along with 3 other students. I just remember sitting in that van watching the city lights turn into pretty much nothing but a blur of bushes and darkness on the long ride to campus. I wondered about the sanity of my decision to come here for I felt completely isolated and desolate at first but the Holy Spirit reassured and helped me get through it and now, 26 years later I’m still here and loving my island home.

Since I was determined to work hard and pay my way through school without incurring any long-term debt, one of the first orders of business once I got here was to get a job. I applied for several jobs on campus and at the Polynesian Cultural Center and was turned down for all of them. I had lots of previous job experience and was a dependable worker so it just wasn’t adding up for me. The last straw was when I was denied a custodial job at PCC. I thought that I must be beyond hopeless if I’m not qualified to scrub toilets for minimum wage. As in when Nephi broke his bow of fine steel, I had to humble myself and work harder to find a way to support myself. I was just lucky I didn’t have to deal with starvation and murmuring family members like he did. Several weeks into the semester a job opened up at the School of Business. I was more suited to this position than any of the others I had applied for and was offered the job. I felt humbled at my impatience and lack of trust in my Heavenly Father’s plan for me.

The School of Business was a wonderful job and I learned many valuable skills but I had to prove myself before the blessings started to come. My supervisor spoke fluent pidgin and not much else so I had to quickly learn how to decipher “da kine” multiple times in any given sentence. I was blessed with the gift of tongues and learned how to listen to and understand her instructions. We became good friends and I worked there as a student secretary for nearly 4-years.

It was a cool, overcast morning in 1919. Twelve-year-old Howard Hunter sat in the congregation in an aging frame chapel in Boise, Idaho. He had been a member of the Church only a short time, but he loved the gospel with all his heart.
Most of the members had mixed feelings that morning. There was excitement about the announcement of a plan for a new chapel. But there was concern about the cost. Ward members were asked to pledge what they could afford, but these were hard times and there was not a lot of money to spare.
The young boy rose to his feet. “I’m Howard Hunter, and I pledge $25,” he said in a loud voice. Howard had worked years to save that money, a large amount for anyone in 1919. But he knew the new chapel was worth the sacrifice. Others followed his example. The money was found. The chapel was built.
For most of his life, President Howard W. Hunter has been setting examples people have loved to follow. On June 5, 1994, Howard W. Hunter was ordained as the 14th President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. His example now becomes a symbol of the Church he so loves.
On November 14, 1907, Howard William Hunter was born in Boise, Idaho, to John William and Nellie Marie Rasmussen Hunter. Howard was the eldest of two children.
His father was not a member of the Church when Howard was a boy. His mother was, however. She taught him the gospel, and when Howard turned eight, he desired to be baptized. His father felt Howard should wait until he was older to make that decision. Howard followed his father’s wish, but eventually the longing for Church membership became too much to bear.
“When I was 12, I joined the LDS Boy Scout troop,” said President Hunter. “I sat in sacrament meetings with the other boys. When it was time for them to pass the sacrament, I would slump down in my seat. I felt so left out. I wanted to pass the sacrament, but couldn’t because I had not been baptized. I finally prevailed upon my father to allow me to be baptized” (Church News, May 19, 1985, p. 4).
Howard and his younger sister, Dorothy, were baptized in the public swimming pool.
As a deacon, young Howard started the fire in the stove to take the chill off the chapel, and then advanced to pumping the bellows for the organ.
As a Scout, he became only the second boy in Idaho to receive an Eagle Award.
According to his sister, he was a polite, popular young man, though he did not call attention to himself. Dorothy said that he just did the things he felt were important in his own “quiet, sweet way. He was awfully good to me, and I can truthfully say I have never known my brother to do a wrong thing in his life” (Ensign, Apr. 1986, p. 23).
While still in high school Howard developed his natural ear for music by learning to play the piano, marimba, drums, violin, clarinet, saxophone, and trumpet. He formed a band, Hunter’s Croonaders, that followed him to the University of Washington in Seattle. Eventually they gained employment as a dance band on a ship bound for the Orient.
Howard moved to California. At a Church dance he met Clara May Jeffs, a former fashion model who was working as a personnel manager of a large Los Angeles department store. Soon after meeting Clara May, Howard realized that his days as a musician were numbered. A musician’s hours were not conducive to the type of family life he wanted. So, before he took Clara to Salt Lake City to be married in the temple, he packed away his instruments for good.
Howard and Clara were married in the Salt Lake Temple on June 10, 1931. The newlyweds returned to California where Howard went to work in a bank.
From the years 1934–39, Howard maintained a grueling schedule of work, Church assignments, and night school. In 1939 he graduated cum laude with a degree in law from Southwestern University in Los Angeles. During those years the Hunters’ three sons were also born: Howard William, Jr., who died in infancy, John J., and Richard A.
After passing the California state bar examination, Brother Hunter started his private law practice and became a highly respected member of the legal community.

I don’t have any photographs of myself as a child. One afternoon during my senior year in high school, my mother, who was a school teacher, and I were driving home together after my basketball practice. We lived on a ranch about three miles outside of the small town of Lima, Montana, where the school was located. As we neared our home, we could see smoke billowing up from the house. I was driving and rushed to get home. When we got there, the house was already engulfed in flames. Fortunately my stepfather and little brother were safely out working in the field. But everything that we owned, everything, burned in the fire. That was a very traumatic experience for me. I was sixteen years old, and to be left with nothing was a very, very lonely feeling.
Friends came that night and put my family up in their homes for a few days. I was distraught from worrying about what our family would do. I stayed awake most of the night, worrying and occasionally weeping. I remember that my mother came into my room about four o’clock in the morning and said, “My dear son, everything will be all right. As long as we have family, friends, and the gospel, we have everything.” That was a marvelous lesson for me to learn.

I had an experience many years ago that taught me the power that is in the word of God and the importance of strengthening our grip on the iron rod. One morning, during a very difficult time in our family, I sought direction from the Lord. I opened the sixth chapter of Ephesians in which Paul writes about the armor of God, and I read these verses:
Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might.
Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.
For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.[21]
When I read those words, I felt a powerful impression of the Spirit. This was the Lord's answer to my prayers: I needed to put on the whole armor of God and strengthen my grip on the iron rod.
I prayed diligently about that message, and the Lord answered my prayers. He showed me what I needed to stop doing and what I needed to start doing in order to put on the whole armor of God. I followed that counsel; and the Lord blessed me with increased light, understanding, and faith in Him.

One of my finest missionary companions was Elder Nolan Bergeson. Though certainly not unfriendly or without a sense of humor, Elder Bergeson was reserved; most people thought of him as a quiet, serious-minded young man.
We made a good team, and as we found success and satisfaction in our labors, we also shared some of our previous experiences. One incident he mentioned almost casually I have never forgotten; it showed the complete dedication of Elder Bergeson.
It seemed he had been in a small congregation where a lady who was deaf and could not speak often attended. For a number of years she had told those who understood her that she would like to join the Church. However, she had not been baptized because she had never been taught the discussions by the missionaries.
It was a mission rule that all converts had to be taught the six missionary lessons before baptism. This lady could communicate only by sign language, and since none of the missionaries could speak the sign language of the deaf, none of them could teach her. Elder Bergeson met her and learned that she had been converted through reading the book A Marvelous Work and a Wonder. He also received from her a card with the signs for the alphabet on it.
Elder Bergeson was not a fast learner but he had a great desire to do the Lord’s work. He went to his apartment that night and memorized the sign for each letter of the alphabet. And the next day, in an intense six-hour finger-spelling session, he taught that lady the entire first missionary lesson, spelling each word to her and watching patiently as she spelled back the answer to each question.
Elder Bergeson might have stopped there and still been richly blessed. Instead, he went to the library, borrowed some books on sign language, and practiced continually. Each discussion became easier. The last discussion took only a little more time than it would have if both participants had been speaking audibly. The sister was baptized, and to this day in sign language she blesses Elder Bergeson’s name.
As I think of Elder Bergeson’s example, I am grateful that I was able to learn from such a fine companion. And I’m humbled, wondering how many times I have passed by a brother or sister who could have used my help if I had only had that kind of dedication.

Coach Ken Jenks has some good news and some bad news for the boys on his soccer team. As members of a recreation-league soccer team, they’ve had incredible success. The LDS boys, who have teamed up with nonmember friends, are some of the best soccer players in the area.
The coach starts with the good news. “Well, boys, we’ve got a great team, and the Southern California Soccer League championship is in the bag,” he says. Then his face clouds a bit, and he delivers the bad news. “But we’ll be playing three games, and one of them is on a Sunday. How do you feel about that?”
Five hands reluctantly but firmly go up. Eric Miller, 14, Jeff Jenks, 14, Justin Bonsey, 14, and twins Trent and Travis Weaver, 15, stand up and tell the group, “We can’t play on Sunday.” The boys, who are members of the Cypress First Ward, Cypress California Stake, aren’t happy about the idea of missing out on the biggest game of the season, but they are sure about their decision.
Although the controversy of the games on Sunday still continues in Orange County sports leagues, the boys’ stand is beginning to make a difference. Many local sports organizations are holding Sunday games less often.
So, as expected, the soccer team plays well on Saturday and wins easily. Then the Mormon boys wish their team the best and go to church on Sunday. The non-LDS members of the team play the championship game and lose. The team takes third place.
Eric shrugs his shoulders, “This game is a temporary thing. I really would have liked to play that championship game if it hadn’t been on Sunday, but I know that keeping the Sabbath will help me return to my Father in Heaven.”
Justin echoes Eric, “It was an individual decision for me, too. I know that it is right and so it didn’t bother me either. The next day some of the kids at school were a little upset, but I think they respected me for staying with my standards.”
And respect from peers, parents, coaches, and other players is a valuable by-product of the sacrifice these boys have made. But perhaps even more important than that is the fact that their example does not go unnoticed by the younger boys waiting for their turn to play the game—but not on Sunday.
Editor’s note: Because of the stand these and other LDS boys have made, regular-season soccer games are no longer held on Sunday in Orange County, California.

Following is the example of Maria and Gretchen—visiting teachers who understand the power of ministering. Here we can see that now visiting teachers have the opportunity to visit separately or together. They can count their “caring” whether or not they visit together and give the message. They can take appropriate action without being asked. They can actively seek, receive, and act on personal revelation to know how to respond to the spiritual and temporal needs of each sister they visit.
Rachel was expecting her first baby and had to remain in bed for most of her pregnancy. Her visiting teachers prayed for inspiration to know the best ways to help her. Maria, who lived nearby, was able to help at Rachel’s home on most days before work. One day she cleaned part of the bathroom; the next day she cleaned the rest of it. Another day she vacuumed the living room, and the next day she made lunch for Rachel. And so her ongoing ministering continued as she did laundry, dusting, or whatever Rachel needed.
Gretchen phoned Rachel often to brighten her day. Sometimes they talked and laughed. Other times Gretchen and Maria visited with Rachel at her bedside and shared their testimonies, scripture reading, or the Visiting Teaching Message. And after Rachel’s baby was born, they continued to help her.
Throughout this time, Maria and Gretchen also worked with the Relief Society presidency to coordinate other care Rachel and her family needed. The Relief Society presidency counseled with the bishop and the ward council so home teachers and others could provide additional assistance.
Ministering became sweeter as these sisters developed love for one another and as they shared spiritual experiences. As visiting teachers we can follow these same patterns and principles of ministering and receive the same blessings.

While my dear wife and I were serving as mission leaders in Thailand, Laos, and Myanmar, we witnessed firsthand the power of God that comes to those who make and keep sacred covenants in the temple. The Temple Patron Assistance Fund made it possible for many Saints in these three countries to attend the temple after doing all they could through personal sacrifice and preparation. I recall meeting a group of 20 faithful Saints from Laos at an airport in Bangkok, Thailand, to help them transfer to another airport in Bangkok to catch their flight to Hong Kong. These members were brimming with excitement to finally be traveling to the house of the Lord.
When we met these good Saints upon their return, the added gospel maturity and associated power resulting from receiving their temple endowment and entering into covenants with God were evident. These Saints clearly went forth from the temple “armed with [His] power.” This power to do more than they could do themselves gave them strength to endure the challenges of Church membership in their home country and to go forth bearing “exceedingly great and glorious tidings, in truth,” as they continue building the Lord’s kingdom in Laos.

Several members of the Snow family, including 17-year-old Lorenzo, clambered into the carriage and drove off toward the Johnson farm, four miles away. The year was 1831, and recently a new religious group known as Mormons had sprung up in the area.
Word had been circulated that the Mormon Prophet, Joseph Smith, was to speak at a meeting at the Johnson place and the Snows, curious perhaps, decided to attend.
The Prophet was standing in the doorway of the house, addressing the group. Lorenzo later recorded his impressions thus: “He was only 25 years of age and was not, at that time, what would be called a fluent speaker. His remarks were confined principally to his own experiences, especially the visitation of the angel, giving a strong and powerful testimony in regard to these marvelous manifestations.”
Lorenzo concluded that Joseph Smith had not been deceived. Either the Mormon leader had, indeed, talked with the Father and the Son or he was an outright fraud. The boy was not religiously inclined at the time, and did not bother to find which of the possibilities was true.

“I miss everyone in our branch,” Olga said sadly. She and her family were the only ones in Sunday School again.
Olga’s sister, Wilma, closed her scriptures. “I miss them too.” Mom and Grandma nodded.
Olga wanted to cry. When she was baptized, 60 people came to church each week! But then World War II started. Because of the war, all of the missionaries in Brazil had to go home. Without them, there weren’t enough priesthood holders to have regular Church meetings. They couldn’t bless the sacrament or baptize people.
The branch stopped renting the church building. Church members met in people’s houses to study the scriptures instead. And one by one, they all started going to other churches.
When the war ended, Olga thought the branch would have church meetings again. But there weren’t enough people. So Olga and her family kept meeting alone on Sunday.
“I miss singing with everyone,” Olga said. “And I miss the children who used to come to church.”
“Me too,” said Grandma.
Over the next few days, Olga thought hard about what to do. She prayed for help. “Heavenly Father, please help us know how to make our branch strong again.”
One day Olga had an idea. She went outside. Two girls were playing under a tree.
“Olá!” Olga said. “Would you like to come to my church’s class for children tonight? We’ll learn about Jesus, sing songs, and have fun.”
The girls looked at each other. “Sure,” one of them said.
“Great! If your parents say you can come, meet me here later. We can walk to the class together.”
Olga waved goodbye and walked down the street. She found more children playing futebol (soccer). Olga invited them all.
Some of the children had come to church before. They were excited to come again! Other kids didn’t want to come. But Olga let them all know they were welcome.
Later that night, Olga gathered the children who said they would come, along with their parents. They all walked together to her house.
Mom and Grandma taught the parents in one room. Olga and Wilma taught the children in another. Olga sang songs with them. Wilma told scripture stories.
Olga felt happy as she walked the children home. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “See you next week!”
Their branch was small, but Olga knew it would grow again. And she wanted to plan next week’s lesson right away!

My family recently moved to a branch in a neighboring stake. Being the only branch member who can play the piano, I was called as pianist for sacrament meetings. Up to this time, I’ve only played classical and popular tunes. The challenge to learn hymns quickly has been a struggle. Now, rather than hearing applause for my playing, I hear the beautiful voices of the branch members as they sing the hymns in praise of our Heavenly Father.
Robyn P., 18, Tennessee, USA

President Grace mentioned in his introduction that I was associated with the 2002 Olympic Winter Games in Salt Lake City. It was the experience of a lifetime. As part of my endeavors, I wanted to experience the Olympics from the athlete’s point of view, so I have skied parts of the men’s downhill at Snowbasin, the mogul run at Deer Valley, and the slalom and giant slalom runs at Park City. I jumped dozens of times at the freestyle aerials practice facility at Park City—that picture is of me doing a front flyaway. I have taken several runs down the bobsled track, and I really lost my judgment when I decided to do the skeleton.

The skeleton is a sport where you lay on your stomach on a sled, and you go head first down the bobsleigh track. Your face is about two inches off the ice. The first time you go down, you travel at about 60 miles an hour through 15 turns, and some of the turns are close to 90 degrees.

To prepare me to go down the track, they gave me a helmet, shoulder pads, a long liability release form, and some advice: “You really don’t know what you are doing, so just put your head down, look at the ice, and pretend you are a sack of potatoes. Don’t move because you will just mess it up.” They put me on the sled, gave me a push, and very quickly, there was this big drop that accelerated me so quickly I felt like I was shot out of a cannon. It seemed like zero to sixty in three seconds. I realized at that moment that I had mixed emotions: fear and terror. I then came to the first turn—a left-hand turn of almost 90 degrees. I was going close to 60 miles per hour. I hit the side wall of the corner, ricocheted off the wall and hit the other side, and then bounced back and hit the other wall again. I couldn’t see where I was going, just the ice on the track inches from my face. I just got stabilized, and then I hit the next corner with the same ricocheting result. Only 13 turns left to go—I realized this was an experience in survival.

After the longest 60 seconds of my life, I reached the bottom. I was alive. My heart was racing, and I was ever so glad that something had ended. There was an Olympian from Turkey there to help me extract the heavy sled from the track. I told him about my ride and asked him if there was a better way. He said that I could potentially totally change my experience. He told me that I would need to look up from the ice and look down the track to see where I was going. When I came to a left-hand corner, I should turn my head to the left, which would shift my weight enough to steer me through the corner. The same principle applied for right-hand turns. I said, “Okay, let’s try it again!” What was I thinking?

On my next run, I lifted my head up from the ice to look down the track and had a completely different perspective. I could see where I was going and what was coming. After the push and the cannon-ball like acceleration, I saw the first left-hand turn approaching. I turned my head to the left, which shifted my weight, and WHOOSH! I flew through the corner without touching a side. I thought that was amazing, but then I realized I was going even faster. Then I came to a right-hand turn. I turned my head to the right and zipped right through the corner without touching a side. I had similar results all the way down until I got a little high on the last turn and bumped at the bottom. However, it was a completely different experience. I decided to go one last time to see if could beat my time and maximum speed down the track. I was now becoming competitive, of all things.

The experience was completely different in two ways. First, my perspective had completely changed. Instead of looking down at the ice, having no control, and being bumped around, I was looking ahead, seeing what was coming, and taking control of where I was going. Second, I applied learning and energy to transform my driving to a different result.

Consider the power to love. I remember a mother I met once as I made a professional house call. This woman was confined in an iron lung. The ravages of polio had effectively destroyed all the breathing muscles so that her life was completely dependent upon this large metal tank and the electrical motor that powered its noisy bellows.
While there, I watched her three children as they related to their mother. The oldest interrupted our work to ask permission to go to a friend’s house for an hour. Later the second child asked her mother for help with arithmetic. Finally the youngest child, so small that she couldn’t see her mother’s face directly, looked up at her image in a mirror that had been placed over the mother’s head and asked, “Mommy, may I have a cookie?” I’ve never forgotten that lesson on the power of love. This woman, virtually disabled and certainly incapable of any degree of physical enforcement of parental authority, sweetly influenced that home solely with the power to love!