Gospel Story Finder

I remember my first winter living here in Utah—snow everywhere. Coming from the Sonoran Desert, the first days I was enjoying it, but after a few days I realized that I had to get up earlier to remove the snow from the driveway.
One morning, in the middle of a snowstorm, I was sweating, shoveling snow, and I saw my neighbor opening his garage across the street. He’s older than I am, so I thought if I finished soon, I could help him. So raising my voice, I asked him, “Brother, do you need help?”
He smiled and said, “Thank you, Elder Montoya.” Then he pulled a snowblower out of his garage, started the engine, and in a few minutes he removed all the snow in front of his house. He then crossed the street with his machine and asked me, “Elder, do you need help?”
With a smile I said, “Yes, thank you.”
We are willing to help each other because we love each other, and my brother’s needs become my needs, and mine become his. No matter what language my brother speaks or what country he comes from, we love each other because we are brothers, children of the same Father.

As long as I can remember, I have had a soccer ball at my side and a dream to be a professional player. My parents supported me as I pursued this dream. They also encouraged me to go to church. But as I got older I was at church only when I didn’t have a game. I knew that the gospel, Church activities, and my friends would help me a lot in life, but what I was really looking for was to fulfill my dream of playing soccer.
As I trained I began to have important friends inside the great soccer clubs. I had opportunities to play and even train with some of these clubs. I traveled throughout various countries to participate in tournaments, and I was very excited and happy with the possibility of living the life of a professional soccer player. On one of these trips to Asia, my dream was about to come true. A large club liked what they saw when they watched me play and wanted me to join the team. But my agent found some obstacles during the negotiation, and we ultimately didn’t close the contract.
At home my friends were filling out mission papers; others were returning from missions and telling with enthusiasm what it was like to be a missionary. Their eyes shone with emotion each time they spoke, and the Spirit was very strong. I felt the desire to serve a mission too; I wanted to have these same experiences. But I worried that if I chose to serve a mission, my soccer dream wouldn’t come true because I would lose physical fitness and agility. My desire to become a professional player was enormous; I had put off college and worked and lived only to fulfill this dream.
On my soccer trips I always brought a copy of the Book of Mormon. I loved the words of the prophets, their way of life, their determination to obey the commandments, and their good example for their people. I felt ashamed of not being an example for the other players and not putting the things of God first. Sometimes I tried to share my beliefs, but what I always heard was “Let’s enjoy the trip. Forget about this nonsense. Let’s go have fun!” I started to get irritated with the gossip, dishonesty, and other aspects of soccer life. Many times I felt alone and sad, and I knew there was a place where I always felt happy and had friends who cared about me—friends who were together at activities and dances, in seminary and institute classes—celestial friends. I missed these things very much.
One Sunday when I wasn’t traveling, I went to church in my home ward in Brazil. At the end of the meetings, the bishop called me into his office to talk. I knew that we were going to talk about a mission because everyone my age was returning home. The bishop challenged me to serve a mission, and I tried to change the subject, saying that I wasn’t prepared. I tried to put off the bishop in every possible way, but he persevered and convinced me of the value of a mission. We ended the conversation with a goal for my preparation.
Some months later I turned in my papers, and I also continued with my training. For the moment, I had managed to reconcile soccer and the Church in my mind. But little did I know that it couldn’t last for long. I would have to choose.
When my call arrived, my family gathered at home. We were all very excited. Then the telephone rang.
On the other end of the line, my soccer agent told me that he had obtained a good contract with a European club. My imagination soared! I could see the stadium full of people coming to watch the games. I thought of the beautiful house and car and salary I could have. My dream was about to be fulfilled. It was within my grasp—and then I looked at the envelope with the call sitting beside the phone.
My eyes began to fill with tears. For a moment my life passed as if it were a movie. On the phone, my agent asked me what I thought of the news. I was silent. I couldn’t talk, and my legs were shaking. I didn’t want this moment to be real, but it was! I had to make a decision, the most difficult of any decision in my life.
With my voice shaking, I finally told him that I had already obtained a better contract. I would be a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for two years. I thanked the agent for the opportunity and for his work and effort on my behalf. Then I hung up the phone and went to my room, where I cried for a long time. I knew that the opportunity wouldn’t wait for two years, and my soccer dream would not be realized.
I knelt and prayed to Heavenly Father, asking for comfort. I felt a quiet and sweet voice respond, comforting my heart by saying, “My son, you are already part of the best team in the world.” I reflected on these words and still reflect on them today.
Today, home from serving in the Brazil Fortaleza Mission, I don’t regret my choice in any way. The true Church of Jesus Christ is available to anyone who wants to be happy. And on my mission I learned that the best way to be happy is doing what Heavenly Father wants us to do. My mission was the best choice I have ever made in my life. It taught me that all who seek first the kingdom of God will have a place on the Lord’s team (see Matthew 6:33).

I was taught how a quorum works in these three aspects many years ago when I attended a high priests group meeting in a small community in southern Wyoming. The lesson that week was on justification and sanctification. It was evident, as the lesson began, that the teacher was well prepared to instruct his brethren. Then a question prompted a response that changed the whole course of the lesson. In response to the question, one brother commented: “I have listened with great interest to the lesson material. The thought has crossed my mind that the information presented will soon be lost if we do not find application to put the material presented into practice in our daily lives.” Then he went on to propose a course of action.

The night before, a citizen of the community had passed away. His wife was a member of the Church, but he had not been. This high priest had visited the widow and offered his sympathy. Leaving the home after the visit, his eyes wandered over the beautiful farm of the deceased brother. He had put so much of his life and labor into building it up. The alfalfa was ready to cut; the grain would soon be ready to harvest. How would this poor sister cope with the sudden problems now falling on her? She would need time to get herself organized for her new responsibilities.

Then he proposed to the group that they apply the principles they had just been taught—by working with the widow to keep her farm operating until the widow and her family could find a more permanent solution. The balance of the meeting was spent in organizing the project to assist her.

As we left the classroom, there was a good feeling among the brethren. I heard one of them remark as he passed through the doorway, “This project is just what we needed as a group to work together again.” A lesson had been taught; a brotherhood had been strengthened; a service project had been organized to assist someone in need.

It happened for me when I performed the baptism of a young man. I knew that I had been called by the Savior’s ordained servants as a missionary to teach His gospel and to testify of Him and of His true Church. My missionary companion and I had promised the young man that he would be cleansed through the power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ as he repented with faith in the Savior and was baptized by one of His authorized servants.
As I lifted the young man out of the waters of the baptismal font, he whispered in my ear, “I am clean, I am clean.” In that moment, I remembered the Savior’s baptism by John the Baptist in the River Jordan. Even more, I remembered that I was doing the saving work of a resurrected and living Savior—attended by the Holy Ghost, as John had been.

One day while attending a stake fireside, I had the impression that I needed to serve in the temple. I was surprised because the idea had never crossed my mind before, but I talked with my bishop about it, and he was supportive and glad that I wanted to serve.
A few months later, I became an ordinance worker at the Manti Utah Temple. Though I was excited for the opportunity, I was a little concerned that it would be a burden on my time. It was the beginning of my sophomore year of college, and I always tried to keep myself busy with school. I consistently took 18 credits every semester and had taken on leadership roles with the student newspaper and the college literary journal.
As it turns out, I was wrong. Serving wasn’t a burden at all, but a blessing I’ll cherish throughout my life.
I would like to share just three things I learned during my time as an ordinance worker.
I was nervous when I first started serving in the temple because I knew I would have to memorize the words to all the ordinances. I was worried I would mess up, so I spent hours studying the words to make sure I could get them right. And while I’ve heard stories of workers who felt like the Holy Ghost helped them memorize the words faster, that wasn’t my experience.
Sometimes I felt upset that I was struggling to memorize the words. Learning the words to the first ordinance took me almost a month. But looking back, I’ve realized that my struggle was an amazing blessing. I was able to sit in the Lord’s house and study the words of the ordinances for hours. And deepening my understanding of those words brought both peace and power into my life. I was able to recognize the voice of the Lord more clearly and more often when I was both inside and outside the temple.
This experience was a testament to me that Heavenly Father knows us personally and knows what experiences will be the most beneficial to us. The opportunity to contemplate the ordinances gave me a better understanding of what the ordinances say and strengthened my desire to keep the covenants I made in the temple.
During my first time working at the veil in the temple, I had the opportunity to assist a Spanish-speaking patron. I spoke Spanish fairly well at the time, so it meant a lot to me that I was able to help that sister with her temple ordinance in a language I was familiar with. This was also a blessing for me because I was so nervous about remembering the words, and to translate effectively I was able to read the words of the ordinance.
When I was asked to help with the ordinance in Spanish, I felt like I received a quiet message from Heavenly Father letting me know that He was aware of exactly where I was and that He loved me perfectly. Experiencing this ordinance in another language also helped me better understand it because I was able to focus on the Spirit testifying to me of its truthfulness. And I gained a better understanding of what it means to be part of a worldwide Church that is full of many different cultures and languages, and of the love that Heavenly Father has for every single one of His children.
Another time when I was helping a patron at the veil, I was surprised to see that my fiancé was the worker assisting me. In his face I saw the Light of Christ. I had a feeling that I was where I was supposed to be at that time. I felt so much love for my fiancé and hope for the future that we would have together.
I also felt the power that comes from having a personal relationship with Jesus Christ and keeping my covenants. I was reminded that, as long as I did God’s will, I would have safety and peace. As President Russell M. Nelson said: “Everything taught in the temple … increases our understanding of Jesus Christ. His essential ordinances bind us to Him through sacred priesthood covenants. Then, as we keep our covenants, He endows us with His healing, strengthening power. And oh, how we will need His power in the days ahead.”1
Being an ordinance worker in the temple truly helped me to better understand the power of the covenants we make and the strength that they bring. Not everyone will be able to serve as an ordinance worker, but we can all still strive to serve in the temple as often as we can. In doing so, I know we will feel the power it brings into our lives, and we will come closer to Jesus Christ and strengthen our spiritual foundation.

I want to share an experience from my time as an undergraduate student at BYU when one of my professors acted as a sherpa or escort to me. I share this with his permission.

I had the opposite reaction to the course Economics 110 than that of most other BYU students, who can’t wait for it to be over. After taking that class, I changed my major to economics, which was great, but I didn’t really know what to do with it. I spent about a year taking classes but felt lost about what to do with economics. And even after many conversations and much study and prayer, I felt stuck in respect to where to go with the degree.

A year into the major, I did well in an econometrics course, and its instructor, James B. McDonald, asked if I would like to work for him. This began a nearly two-year period in which I met with Jim multiple times each week, working on a number of projects. We always talked econometrics, but in nearly every meeting he would also ask about my personal life and sometimes about my spiritual life.

In one of our meetings later in my time working for him, out of the blue he stopped our conversation and said there was something he needed to share. He then told me a story of how one night he had had a dream. In that dream he was shown the solution to an econometrics problem he had been working on. That dream led to a scholarly paper that was published in the then leading econometrics journal and that helped to cement Jim’s reputation in the field. Hearing the story was a spiritual experience for me, and my initial takeaway was a feeling that Jim cared for me and that this was a way for him to show me that care.

Over time I began to sense that, like Jim, I could become both a respected economist and a person of deep faith. This interaction led to actions on my part and confirmations from the Spirit that raised my sights of who I could be and what role I could play. An interesting postscript to this story is that Jim’s paper never really took off in the field of econometrics, but I have come to see that his paper had more important contributions. It allowed Jim to bear witness to many students of the fact that God is real, that He loves Jim, that He had a work for Jim to do, and that Jim’s work was largely to develop faith-filled BYU economists. Jim McDonald was an inspired escort and sherpa to a BYU undergraduate trying to find his own path.

I even began tracing my Croatian ancestors, though I soon learned that to obtain their records it would require us to travel to their homeland. So in anticipation, I became acquainted with a BYU–Hawai‘i student who had served her mission in Croatia. She helped me learn basic Croatian words and phrases and introduced me to maps of the regions we could visit. While the steps felt like they occurred slowly, the pace surely quickened in that long-awaited summer in 2006 when we arrived in Zagreb, the capital of Croatia, our first destination. Was it totally by accident that we ran into a set of English-speaking U.S. missionaries, our first morning there? We briefly chatted with them outside the building where church would be held. They described the culture and the city we would travel to next, Rijeka, along the Adriatic, where both happened to have served.

The next morning, we met a missionary couple from BYU–Provo who was familiar with the surnames of my ancestors that I was looking for. With their familiarity with the printed language, they pointed out that I had a two surnames spelled incorrectly.

We also met an assistant to the mission president who recommended we contact the branch president at Rijeka. The helpful branch president and his wife were another missionary couple from the US, and they coordinated the hiring of a translator for us.

These steps all happened very quickly!

With the aid of our new friend and translator (Sonja) we wound up the mountain roads and located the remote parish where Dianna’s grandparents lived before they emigrated to the U.S. I stood back and watched and recorded with these pictures what happened that day, which we regard now as a miracle. The priest there gladly shared with her the heavy, old books containing handwritten names and data of her Croatian ancestors. And with the aid of a state of the art copier in his office, the priest offered to make copies of these precious pages for her. I learned that the priest was probably one of my cousins as our grandmothers were both from the same tiny village down the road and since they coincidentally had the same maiden name! Translation of the copied records was another vital step in this endeavor, made possible through Sonja’s expertise.

Brothers and sisters, I learned that the Spirit of Elijah is real, and allows for the hallowed work of this dispensation to go forward, sometimes in leaps instead of just steps. And it has been a deep and fulfilling joy to help my Croatian ancestors vicariously in their next steps toward their own eternal progression.

After being in college for about four years, I remember not being able to pass one of my classes. It was a requirement for my major and there was no way around it. It was a discouraging time. At that point, I was working full-time, going to school, and raising a young family. I was already into my career as a computer programmer, and obtaining a degree didn’t seem as necessary as it did when I first began college. It was hard to envision getting beyond that trial. I shared with my wife that I felt hopeless and wanted to quit school. I’m so happy for her love and encouragement. She reminded me of my vision of receiving a college education. We spoke of the sacrifice my parents made to give us a better future. With hope renewed and refocused vision, I ultimately made the decision to continue. By the way, it didn’t take me the traditional four years; it took eight years to finish a bachelor’s degree. Quite a long time to finish, I admit, but I did finish.

My father had to fight for his testimony, and my mother rolled up her sleeves and fought alongside him. When he was 19, he found that some of his choices in life were bringing on difficult consequences. One day he was sitting on a bridge over a river, contemplating his young life and wondering if there was more meaning to this earthly experience than what he knew. His older brother saw him and came and sat by his side. As they were talking, his brother said, "Hey, I just found this new church and was baptized. You should get baptized too, and if you don't like it then you can quit in a year." My dad thought "Why not?" and decided to get baptized. He soon met my mother, and a year later they were sealed in the Cardston Alberta Temple. A few years later, after my sister and I were born, he was called to be a Seventy and stake missionary. His new priesthood office and calling required him to visit people and teach them about the gospel. He became very concerned about this. He didn't want to share a message with others about something that he wasn't sure was true. He decided he'd better find out if it was true or not. He had never read the Book of Mormon and really only joined the Church because in his mind it was going to keep him alive. He had never worked to gain a testimony; he was just going through the motions of being a member. But now he knew he needed to find out if what he was taught at church was real. He and my mom discussed what they should do. My mom had never read the book of Mormon either, so they decided they would read it together. They did not just casually read; they read with real intent and prayed every night. My dad was aware of Moroni's promise and had taken it to heart. He had a strong desire to find out if the things he had been taught at church were true. His desire to know of the truth and his action of reading and praying every day led to an answer. Somewhere in the middle of Alma, he had received a witness that the Book of Mormon was true, and his prayers changed. Instead of asking if it was true, they changed to ask for help to increase his understanding. The Holy Spirit bore witness to both my parents, and my dad now had a testimony of the Book of Mormon and that he was a member of the true Church on earth. His concerns for sharing the gospel were gone, and he became an enthusiastic stake missionary.

I learned about those realities from a wise teacher nearly 25 years ago. I spoke in an ancient theater in Ephesus. Bright sunlight flooded the ground where the Apostle Paul had stood to preach. My topic was Paul, the Apostle called of God.
The audience was hundreds of Latter-day Saints. They were arranged on the rows of stone benches the Ephesians sat upon more than a millennium before. Among them were two living Apostles, Elder Mark E. Petersen and Elder James E. Faust.
As you can imagine, I had prepared carefully. I had read the Acts of the Apostles and the Epistles, both those of Paul and his fellow Apostles. I had read and pondered Paul’s Epistle to the Ephesians.
I tried my best to honor Paul and his office. After the talk, a number of people said kind things. Both of the living Apostles were generous in their comments. But later, Elder Faust took me aside and, with a smile and with softness in his voice, said, “That was a good talk. But you left out the most important thing you could have said.”
I asked him what that was. Weeks later he consented to tell me. His answer has been teaching me ever since.
He said that I could have told the people that if the Saints who heard Paul had possessed a testimony of the value and the power of the keys he held, perhaps the Apostles would not have had to be taken from the earth.
That sent me back to Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. I could see that Paul wanted the people to feel the value of the chain of priesthood keys reaching from the Lord through His Apostles to them, the members of the Lord’s Church. Paul was trying to build a testimony of those keys.

For some kids one night a week of Mutual is enough, but not for Claudine Miller of Sandy, Utah. Besides going to her own Mutual night on Wednesday, Claudine also volunteered to help with her region’s handicapped Mutual every Thursday night.
One of Claudine’s most memorable times with the girls was on “Cinderella Night,” she says. The Mutual girls dressed up in fancy dresses and learned how to put on makeup and fingernail polish. “It really helped them feel pretty,” says Claudine.
Another great experience came when Claudine helped the handicapped Mutual do baptisms for the dead in the Jordan River Temple. “It was really neat,” she said. “The Spirit was so strong!”
Her service project ended up lasting two years, but the time flew by for Claudine. “It made my testimony grow so much to feel their spirit and hear them say thank you and express their love for me,” she says. “When I serve I feel like I’m doing it for Christ, and it makes me feel really good.”

When I was in high school, many of my friends started smoking. I was the only member of the Church who belonged to that group of friends. They knew that I am a member of the Church. One time they asked me why I didn’t smoke. I just smiled and humbly answered, “We know that the Bible says our body is a temple, and it is a special gift given to us. Therefore, we need to love and care for the gift given to us because it comes from God.” They responded by saying that maybe I was right and that we need to care for our bodies. I shared my testimony about the Word of Wisdom with them. If we show care for our bodies, we will be blessed with good health and knowledge. I knew because of the expressions on their faces that they believed what I had shared with them. Since that day I have seen an improvement in them. Sharing your testimony with those who struggle with smoking can help them to choose the right.
Michael T., 18, Palawan, Philippines

Jandi and Alison, who are also Laurels, wanted to make a meaningful contribution to camp too. Jandi’s mom, Glenda, is the camp director, so she had plenty of things they could do to help out, including setting up camp and helping organize and execute a fund-raiser. They also put together binders for each girl containing information about each day’s activities, words to campfire songs, and camp certification information. Even with a relatively small group coming to camp, it was a big job.
“We worked right up to the last minute,” says Jandi. “The day camp started, we were still putting some of them together. We finished just in time!”

“You’re unusually quiet,” Mark’s mother observed on the drive home from Church. “Is anything wrong?”
Mark found tears stinging the corners of his eyes. “Today in Primary our teacher talked about testimonies and challenged us to bear ours. I really wanted to do it in fast and testimony meeting today, but I just couldn’t. When I thought about standing up in front of all those people, I got scared. Besides, I couldn’t think of anything to say. I guess I don’t have a testimony, after all.”
“It is frightening to stand up in front of all those people, especially if you don’t know what you’re going to say,” Mark’s mother agreed with him. “But it doesn’t mean that you don’t have a testimony. Do you know what it means to ‘bear a testimony’?”
“My teacher said it means to stand as a witness for something, like at a trial.”
“That’s one meaning. But another meaning of bear is ‘carry it with you.’ Our testimonies show in what we say and do every day of the week, not just on Sundays. Do you want to know if you have a testimony?”
“Yes.”
“Pay attention to how you live your life this month. I think you’ll discover that you are bearing your testimony all the time.”
Mark hoped that what his mother said was right. He thought that he had a testimony, but he wasn’t sure. He decided that each Sunday he would write in his journal about anything that happened to him that week involving his testimony.
The first week he wrote about something his friend, Jay, had said to him. He and Jay shared a paper route after school and split their paycheck. That week Jay had said to him, “I can’t understand why you always have more money than I do—we get paid the same amount.”
“You always spend yours right away on little things,” Mark pointed out.
“I know,” Jay said. “But a lot of yours goes to your church for—what do you call it again?”
“Tithing.”
“Yeah, tithing. And into your mission savings. But you still have more left than I do.”
Mark had never thought about it before, but it was true. He did seem to have more spending money than Jay. He guessed that he was just more careful with what he had left after tithing and savings.
The next week he didn’t know what he’d write about in his journal until Saturday night. That night his friends came over and invited him to go to the movies with them. He was excited until he heard the name of the movie. “I can’t see that movie,” he told his friends.
They were surprised. “Why not? It’s a really funny movie.”
“Because the rating tells me that it has something in it that we shouldn’t see.”
“It’s just a movie,” his friends tried to persuade him.
Mark thought about a lesson his family had had at a family home evening. He knew that the prophets had warned about watching bad things on TV and in movies, or looking at bad things in magazines or books. It was almost impossible to erase those bad images from your mind.
“I’d rather not see it,” he said, and his friends went without him.
The third week, Mark knew what he was going to write about in his journal long before Sunday. It was Monday morning, in fact, when one of his friends, Rob, had come to school looking very tired.
“What’s wrong,” Mark asked him. “Are you sick?”
“No.” Rob yawned. “I didn’t sleep much last night. I ate too much candy, and my stomach was upset for a long time.”
“Too much candy isn’t good for you,” Mark said. “It’s better to snack on fruit or eat a cheese sandwich or something.”
“I know that now,” Rob said as he put his head down on his desk.
The last week of the month, Mark wrote about a very frightening thing that had happened to him. He had been out delivering his papers in the rain and was almost hit by a car. Later he remembered that in their family prayers that morning, his little sister had prayed that they would all be safe in the rain.
When fast Sunday came again, Mark was prepared. His family sat close to the front of the chapel so that he could be first to the podium when it was time for bearing testimonies. During the meeting, he offered a prayer in his heart that he would know what to say.
When it was time, he stood and walked up to the microphone. At first, he was nervous at seeing all the people looking back at him, but most of them were smiling, and he knew that they were his friends.
“I have a testimony of the law of tithing,” he began, “and of the Word of Wisdom. I know we have a living prophet today, and I know Heavenly Father answers our prayers.” Mark ended his testimony and sat down. His mom patted him on the knee.
He still felt a bit shaky, but mostly he had a really good feeling, like he was glowing from head to toe. He was glad that he had a testimony and that he could bear it every single day.

It all started with a dream to help critically ill children in London’s Royal Marsden Hospital. With the intent of giving service in a way that could make a real difference, 50 young LDS teens from the Staines England Stake set out on an incredible service project that resulted in what some called a miracle.
They planned and produced an evening of entertainment, the “MGM Spectacular.” The initials stand for Marsden’s Glorious Musical. The miraculous part of the project was the fact that in addition to raising money for the hospital, the LDS teens helped the young patients participate and perform in the production. For many of these children, this theatrical experience was a once-in-a-lifetime event. Sarah Burlinson of the Tunbridge Wells Ward, Kent England Stake, said, “The children really looked happy, and I know that they enjoyed it as well.”
The show was intended as a family event. Besides the LDS youth, the critically ill outpatients and their brothers and sisters performed in song and dance. The LDS teens wanted to offer these children a chance to forget their difficulties for a day and feel the joy of being involved in service. The money raised was used to buy needed equipment for their own hospital. And they threw themselves into the project with energy. Catherine Wittle of the Guilford Ward said, “The sick kids were a great example to us. They were so determined to do well.”
The combination of dedicated LDS youth with enthusiastic children made for a remarkable evening. The project was linked with a charity called Kids Count. The group also received help from London’s Capital Radio.
But the performance was preceded by 18 months of hard work. To earn the money necessary to hire the hall, create the costumes, and print the tickets and programmes, the stake youth held car washes, sponsored hikes and bake sales, and held a summer festival. At times it was discouraging, especially after well-made plans fell through, but then the phrase, “The show must go on,” was heard around the stake.
Everyone understood that the proceeds of this show were to serve an important purpose. “The show was a lot of fun to put together and perform,” said Alison Youngberg of the Addlestone Branch, “but the best part was knowing that we were raising money that would save the children’s lives.”
On the night of the performance, the show was a great success. The near-capacity audience was thoroughly entertained. Standing on stage that evening, Amber Travers of the Kingston Ward said, “When we all sang the closing song on stage, there was a really good feeling, a feeling of total unity and friendliness.”
A cheque for nearly £2000 (about $3,214) was donated. Beth Sepion, representing the hospital, said that the show was the most touching and innovative way she had ever seen to raise money. For the Staines Stake youth, it was a chance to learn how much fun service can be and how great things can come from that which is small.

by Pat Truman
A caravan leaves the glittering lights of Las Vegas bound for the west. Complete with a giant toy box, wishing well, fake mountain, bunk beds, black caldron, spotlights, and sound equipment, it snakes along the Nevada landscape. Following are five buses full of astronauts, teddy bears, mutated flowers, boogey-men, skunks, bunnies, and even Little Jack Horner with a two-foot diameter pie. Plainly, an unusual night is in the making!
It was a new approach to missionary work sponsored by the Las Vegas Nevada South Stake Young Men and Young Women, a combination of roadshow and missionary involvement. Since full-time elders had just been assigned for the first time to the Pahrump, Nevada, area (where an outlying ward in the stake was located), it was decided that the Las Vegas wards and outlying branches would travel there to present their roadshows. They decided to invite the 1,200 townspeople of the farming community to the roadshows in a “Meet the Mormons Night.”
The night of February 21 arrived, and 178 youths and 26 advisers eagerly boarded the buses, dressed in costumes and makeup. Robert Simmons of the Las Vegas 12th Ward remembered, “The bus ride was great, especially an hour and a half in a teddy bear costume!”
The schedule was tight, and the buses pulled into the parking lot of the Pahrump Community Center only minutes before show time. Costumes were frantically straightened in bus aisles, while scenery and props were sorted on the lawn. Eventually everyone was ready, and Brother Ted Bingham, stake roadshow specialist, began the evening’s program by explaining the Church’s interest in the cultural arts and a little about the Young Men and Young Women programs.
The cast surmounted the challenges presented by performing on a small stage and using a curtain made of sheets (supported by the branch members from Beatty) and presented roadshows that were fun for audience and participants alike. After the shows, a nonmember commented on the professional quality of the roadshows and the wholesome and clean-cut appearance of the young people involved.
After the performance refreshments were served, and copies of the Book of Mormon, plus homemade cookies and candies with “Thank You for Meeting the Mormons” notes attached, were distributed.
Some unexpected benefits of the event were the eventual baptisms of some of the nonmember youths who were members of the roadshow casts. As Faith Allen, a Laurel from Pahrump, expressed it, “Missionary work can be accomplished in so many different ways, and we found that it can be fun, too.”

For a girl who directs high school plays, sews costumes, memorizes Shakespeare, studies Russian, and performs on her school’s dance team, it’s a wonder she finds time to do anything else—especially take care of her diabetes. Adrienne was diagnosed with diabetes when she was 11, but she hasn’t let that get her down.
“There’s really no point in being sad about it,” Adrienne says, “because it’s not going to change it. You might as well make the best of the situation and do things a normal kid would do.” She makes sure to take care of herself physically and spiritually. She tries to do constructive things that make her happy. “If you do all you can, pray, and have faith in Heavenly Father,” she says, “then He’ll help you accomplish the rest.”
Adrienne has been a resource to many around her. Before moving to Utah, she was asked to teach a class on diabetes at a science museum in Minnesota. “It’s fun being able to bring something exciting out of a trial like this,” she says.
She’s also discovered that the gospel is a strength. “The Savior went through a lot more than I did. And I know that He always understands. You try your hardest, and if that’s all you can do, then don’t stress.”

I had a real problem with procrastination. One day, I went to a quiet place alone and reflected on how I felt about myself and how God felt about me. I thought about all the things I hadn’t done, and I felt totally discouraged.

Then I knelt and prayed to Heavenly Father, and I asked him to forgive me and give me the strength to do better. Little by little I have felt a change for good in my life. I have come to allow myself spiritual time to meditate on my responsibilities. Such time helps me to keep focused on what is important in my life and not worry about other things. I have developed faith in myself as I have come to know that I am a daughter of God and that he cares for me.

Maria Veronica V. Basilio, 16Tagig Ward, Pasig StakeManila, Philippines

“How high are we going, Dad?” Keith asked, skipping merrily along to keep up with his father’s long, quick strides.
“To the fourth floor,” said Dad with a smile when they approached the four-story bank building. Keith had been in the bank before but had never ridden its elevator.
“Elevators are magic,” Keith said.
“What do you mean?” asked Dad.
“Well, people go into them, and the doors close. Then when they come out, they are somewhere else.”
Father laughed. “I guess you’re right, son. An elevator is magic!”
Keith gripped his dad’s hand as they pushed through the big swinging double glass doors of the bank building. “How many elevators are there?” he asked.
“Only one,” Dad answered.
Keith was about to ask how people came back down if the elevator stopped working. But when he passed a door with the word STAIRS on it he decided he already knew the answer.
Dad stopped at some large shiny doors and pushed a little button that lighted up. The doors opened and some people stepped out. Keith wondered where they all came from.
Keith and his dad stepped quickly into the elevator. Dad pushed another little button stamped with a 4.
“What would happen if we didn’t stop at 4?” Keith asked, watching a row of numbers light up one at a time. Dad said that the fourth floor was as high as the elevator went. But Keith wondered if anyone had ever gone past there and had stopped on the roof or maybe even high above the clouds somewhere.
However, when the elevator slowed to a stop on the fourth floor, the door opened onto a long, narrow hallway. Then another thought came to Keith. “Dad, how far down does an elevator go?”
“It stops in the basement below the level of the ground,” Dad answered.
Keith wondered what would happen if the elevator didn’t stop when it got to the basement, but he didn’t say anything.
When his dad had finished with his business they returned to the elevator. Keith was still thinking about the basement when Dad pushed the button. Soon the elevator doors silently slid open. No one came out, so Keith stepped in.
Just then someone called to Dad and he stopped and turned to see who it was. Suddenly, the heavy doors closed, leaving Keith in the elevator all by himself. Keith yelled, “Dad!” and tried to open the doors, but they wouldn’t budge and he didn’t know about the special button that could be pushed to reopen them. Even if he had known, he was too short to reach it.
The elevator started moving, slowly at first, but then it picked up speed as down, down, down it went. Keith watched fearfully as the row of numbers lighted up again, one at a time—3, 2, 1. When the elevator didn’t slow down at 1, he was really afraid. But when the letter B lit up, the elevator finally came to a gentle stop.
Keith wondered what would happen next. He was so frightened that a big tear started to roll down his cheek. Slowly and quietly the doors slid open. Standing before him was a man in striped overalls, carrying a mop and a well-used bucket.
“Well, hello, there!” said the man, with a surprised look on his face.
“Hi,” Keith managed to say, stepping out of the elevator. “Who—who are you?”
The man’s surprised look slowly turned into a broad smile. “I’m Joe, the building custodian. Are you lost?”
“I guess I am, sort of. My dad’s up on the fourth floor and I’m down here. I want to get back to him.”
“Do you remember how your dad made the elevator take him to the fourth floor? I bet you could do the same thing,” Joe encouraged.
“But I can’t reach the buttons.”
“I see,” said Joe. “That is a problem.”
Then Joe held up the head of the mop. “Let me introduce you to this beauty. Her name is Liz, and she’s the queen of the basement.”
He put his head close to the head of his mop. “What did you say, Liz? That you want to visit the fourth floor, and that you’d like us to escort you?”
Joe bent down and whispered to Keith. “She means she wants us to go with her and help her punch elevator buttons. What do you think? Should we help her out?”
“You bet!” said Keith, grinning from ear to ear.
“OK, Your Highness. This way,” said Joe with a flourish and a bow to the mop. Joe picked up the bucket and, with Keith’s help, escorted Liz into the elevator. And up they went.
Dad was glad to see Keith. And after both of them thanked Joe for his help, Dad was introduced to Liz. He said he’d be honored to shake the queen’s hand, but since that didn’t seem possible, he’d just say, “Thanks.”
On the way down in the elevator, Dad asked, “Well, son, did you learn anything about elevators today?”
“Yep,” said Keith as he watched the numbers light up one at a time. “What goes up—comes down.”

My father was asked by the church to start the church school in Mexico City, The Benemerito de las Americas. To start the school they needed a Mexican citizen who had a degree from Mexico. At the time there was nobody in the church who qualified. My father had a masters degree and we moved to Mexico City so he could begin work on his doctorate. To receive a doctorate he would need to be competent in two foreign languages. My father assumed he could use either English or Spanish as one of his foreign languages, and then he would learn Portuguese or Italian, which are closely related to Spanish. We fasted and prayed as a family, and he was able to pass the Italian test after studying for six weeks. He had one of his foreign languages and expected to be able to use one of his other languages. Much to my father's surprise he was told he would not be able to use English, Spanish or Portuguese, and he would have to be able to pass one more test within a week in order to get his degree completed. These tests were not easy, you were competing against students who had studied the language for years, and only the top percentage of the class was allowed to pass. Completing the degree was critical for my father to be in a position to start the church school. Many people were counting on him, they were building the school and no one would be able to use the buildings unless they were able to start. Once again our family fasted and prayed. My father studied hard and went to take the test-He said he still does not know any French, but during the test he felt all the answers come to him and he was able to pass. What a great experience for us to have as a family to learn to rely on the Lord-although my father said he hoped it didn't happen very often where the children had to pray for their parents to pass a test, it should be the other way around.