Gospel Story Finder

I was with President Kimball when I saw the mantle of presidency fall upon him the day after Christmas 1973. I had taken President Harold B. Lee to the hospital in Salt Lake the afternoon of December 26 because he was tired and the doctor thought he ought to get a rest and have a checkup. His family had gone home for a brief period, and I was alone with him in the room when he began to have difficulties. Within seconds I called a nurse and then a doctor, and immediately the alarm was sounded—“cardiac arrest.”
A team of doctors and nurses with sophisticated equipment began an heroic hour-long struggle in an effort to save his life. As I watched, I became convinced that unless the Lord did indeed work a miracle, President Lee could not live. I at once called President Romney and then reached President Tanner in Phoenix and got in touch with President Lee’s wife and family. Again convinced that unless the Lord took a hand there would be a change in the leadership of the Church, I felt that the next President of the Church should be present.
I immediately went to the phone and called President Kimball, and when he heard my voice, he responded in his usual cheerful manner, “Well, Arthur, how are you tonight?” I said, “Not very well. I am at the hospital with President Lee, and he is very ill. I think you should come at once.” He said, “I’ll be right there,” and I hung up. As I did so, I was conscious of the fact that I had not even told President Kimball which hospital we were at. Nevertheless, he was the first to arrive. Then President Romney came, and then President Lee’s wife and family.
It was on this sad occasion that I learned a great and fundamental lesson in priesthood and Church government. As you know, President Romney was a member of the First Presidency, while President Kimball was the President of the Quorum of the Twelve. As soon as President Romney arrived, President Kimball turned to him and said, “President Romney, what would you like me to do?” At the moment there seemed little that any of us could do, except pray and wait. A short time later, the doctor came and gave us the awful news that President Lee was dead. Quietly, President Romney, knowing that the First Presidency was now dissolved at that precise moment and that the mantle had fallen upon President Kimball, turned to him and said, “President Kimball, what would you like me to do?”
In a recent conference President Kimball said: “We believe that we have in this Church the answers to all questions, for the Lord is the head of the Church, and He has given us the program. Our message is what it has always been, and our hope is that our people will live the commandments of the Lord. They have been revealed in the holy scriptures and by living prophets throughout many years.”
No, President Kimball is not an ordinary man. He is a Prophet of the Lord.

When I was a child, my dad made decisions that hurt our family. After years of prayer, counseling with church leaders, and other resources, my mom filed for divorce.
Despite her struggles, my mom remained faithful in the gospel, and three years after her divorce, she remarried in the temple to my stepdad. They are two of the most Christlike people I have ever known, and I was lucky to be raised by them.

“FSY Conference can change lives of the youth and the leaders too. Last 2023 I attended my first and last FSY Conference as a participant, I wasn’t feeling well mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, but my mother still counselled that I should go. I didn’t know that it would really change my life. I met a friend that really cared and listened to me, to my heartaches and sorrows. She was there when I needed a friend who would listen to me without any judgment. I felt God’s love after we talked and that’s one of the reasons why I accepted the calling as an FSY Counselor, I want the rising generation to feel God’s love, that no matter what circumstances and challenges they go through God is always there for them and he would send an angel (like a friend) who would help them and uplift them.” – Joemerly Hular, 20, Bacoor Stake

There’s a girl in our school who doesn’t have many friends. The other day I was walking into school with some of my friends when I saw her. She walked to the doors just in front of me and very shyly said hi. I didn’t want my friends to think I was weird so I wasn’t sure what to do, but I walked in the door and said hi back. Immediately, I knew that simply saying hi was the right thing to do.
Sometimes just saying hi can brighten someone’s day, and I try often to say hi and be more kind in my day-to-day life. It’s made me a better person.

Last year I attended Especially for Youth (EFY) for the first time. The days were filled with endless devotionals and personal scripture study. I have never felt the Spirit stronger in my life.
However, on the last day of EFY, I was separated from my friends and felt really lonely. I moodily left my spot at the dinner table and walked out of the cafeteria. As I was walking back to my room, I remembered that I was holding the scriptures in my hands. I recalled my parents saying to me that by reading the scriptures, we can be comforted. I then sat down and began to read.
Right when I had opened my scriptures and began to read, I felt the Holy Ghost. I was overcome with a sense of comfort and joy for the scriptures, and I continued to read. Soon, two people from my group came over and began to read with me. I could tell that they felt the Spirit too.
Ever since that experience, I have had a strong testimony of scripture study and the power and comfort it can give us. I am so thankful for the scriptures and what they can do in our lives.

I treasure the old photographs of my parents, Larry and Molly Hamilton, sitting on Brighton Beach in the middle of August about 70 years ago. They were on their belated honeymoon. It always amazed me how well dressed they were for the beach. I like the newspaper that remains at their feet from the fish-and-chip lunch they’d just had, and the 3d hire charge printed on the deckchairs. At first glance, they look like any other 1950s black-and-white holiday snaps taken with a Brownie box camera. But these images capture a very special occasion.
In the background of the same photograph is a figure standing on what looks like a chair, trying to talk to people as they walk past. My father recalled the actual day sitting in the deckchair hearing the words of an American missionary, speaking of a Joseph Smith and of gold plates. My father was amazed how the missionary kept pointing to the sea, saying “across the sea in America”. This was the English Channel, and across the sea was France. My parents did not speak to the missionary, but his words and the impression they left stayed with my father.
Why did my father react so eagerly to hear the missionaries? He remembered the words and feelings he had when he heard the missionary on Brighton Beach in 1951. I believe that every testimony borne in faith can touch a heart.
In Romans 10:17 we can read: “Faith cometh … by hearing … the word of God”. Perhaps like Abinadi, whose words changed the heart of Alma, that missionary on Brighton Beach never knew the powerful effect of his words on those who heard him. Many generations of members have served missions and received sacred temple blessings, because one elder had the courage to stand and declare his testimony of the Restoration of Jesus Christ’s gospel—on the beach at Brighton.

Martha Cumming was born in Scotland in 1884. She reluctantly attended a meeting of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Edinburgh in 1912, at the invitation of a visiting missionary cousin from America. When those present began to sing, “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet,” she pressed her hands tight to her ears until they had finished.
Working as a domestic servant in a Presbyterian minister’s home in Edinburgh, Martha continued to have occasional contact with the Church. She prayed to be the means of showing them the error of their teachings.
After one meeting with the missionaries, she related, “When I got home that night, I laid there with the lights on pondering the many things pertaining to the gospel, even to the Prophet Joseph. I thought ‘Maybe I am wrong and there is only one way to find out — talk to my Heavenly Father.’ I got out of bed, got on my knees, and prayed. I felt that prayer did not reach further than the ceiling, so I got out of bed again. I felt very humble, so humble and sincere that my prayer was sobbed out — each word. I asked my Heavenly Father if Joseph Smith was really His prophet; I said I didn’t want a sign (as I had known most of my life it was wicked to ask for a sign). I told my Heavenly Father so, but I said, ‘How am I ever going to believe about Joseph Smith unless in your own way, Heavenly Father? Please won’t you tell me. And please forgive me if I am asking wrong’.
“By this time, I was shaking with sobs. I was talking to my Heavenly Father and asking for something that meant so much to me. I got into bed, the light still on, when all at once I heard the most beautiful organ music. Then a choir started to sing — all the parts were sung with the most beautiful voices I had ever heard on this earth. … They sang to me the first song I ever heard in the Mormon meeting in Edinburgh, Scotland when I stopped my ears so I could not hear the few people who were at that meeting singing the song I didn’t want to hear. Yes, it was ‘We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet’! That singing went on and on … I lay spellbound listening to every word with tears streaming down my face, my heart and soul rejoicing at every word I heard … Heavenly Father heard me, a humble young woman who earned her living in a minister’s home.”
Taken from the testimony of Martha Hunter Hurry Cumming Clark, as written to her granddaughter Carole Clayton Pulley in 1952. More information can be found at https://ancestors.familysearch.org/en/KWZN-FDZ/martha-hunter-hurry-cumming-1884-1963

Many years ago in the country of Norway, a young widow with two small sons sent a pair of shoes to a shoemaker for repairs. When the mended shoes were returned, the mother was surprised to find a religious tract tucked into each shoe. Shortly thereafter, curious about the tracts, and with a parcel containing another pair of old shoes, she set forth for the half-hour walk to the shoemaker’s shop.
After concluding her business with the shoemaker, she hesitated briefly with her hand on the door latch, wanting, yet reluctant, to ask about the tracts. As she paused, the shoemaker said, “‘You may be surprised to hear me say that I can give you something of more value than soles for your child’s shoes.’
“‘What can you, a shoemaker, give me better than soles for my son’s shoes? You speak in riddles,’ she answered.”
The man “did not hesitate. ‘If you will but listen, I can teach you the Lord’s true plan of salvation for His children. I can teach you how to find happiness in this life, and to prepare for eternal joy in the life to come. I can tell you whence you came, why you are upon earth, and where you will go after death. I can teach you as you have never known it before, the love of God for His children on earth.’”
The words pierced the heart of Anna Widtsoe, whose husband, John Andersen Widtsoe, had died unexpectedly just a year before. Her oldest son, John Andreas, was six years old, and her second son, Osborne, was just two months of age. At the burial service the young widow “and her oldest son stood by the open grave while the cold words of the church funeral service were spoken, ‘Dust thou art, to dust returnest,’ with no promise of a future meeting in a happier place than man’s earth.”
Her life had since been lonely, and she was filled with many unanswered spiritual questions which her own religion had failed to satisfy. She asked the shoemaker a simple question: “‘Who are you?’” He answered: “‘I am a member of the Church of Christ—we are called Mormons. We have the truth of God.’”
As repaired shoes were returned there was always a new tract, and her curiosity finally caused her to attend a Mormon meeting. Anna Widtsoe was an intelligent woman. She “knew her Bible. Time upon time she [attempted] to vanquish the elders, only to meet defeat herself.” She insisted on debating and discussing the points of doctrine she questioned; and finally, unwillingly, yet prayerfully, she became convinced that she was in the presence of eternal truth.
“At length, on 1 April 1881, a little more than two years after she first heard of the Gospel, she was baptized into the Church. … Thin ice still lay over the edges of the fjord, which had to be broken to permit the [baptism]. The water was icy cold yet she declared to her dying day that never before in all her life had she felt warmer or more comfortable than when she came out of the baptismal waters of old Trondheim’s fjord. The fire within was kindled, never to be extinguished.”
This account is taken from a book titled In the Gospel Net (Salt Lake City: Improvement Era, 1942, pp. 47, 53–57), written by Elder John A. Widtsoe, Anna’s eldest son, who later became an Apostle and member of the Council of the Twelve in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

“I want to tell all the members of the Church that I loved my mission very much,” said Cambodian member Eng Bun Huoch, who was baptized on October 25, 1998. He served a mission in Phnom Penh two years later. “Serving a mission is not easy, but it is worth it. I can’t describe how important and profitable it was to my life. My two-year mission instilled in me leadership skills and teaching skills and showed me how to be a better friend, son, and member.”
After returning home on July 17, 2002, Elder Huoch was able to find a job that improved his quality of life. His testimony had been strengthened, and he felt better prepared to deal with the challenges of life.
“I thank the Lord that He brought the gospel to Cambodia before I was too old to serve a mission,” he says. “I would be very sad if I missed the opportunity to do this marvelous work.”

The Jeffrey family, from Illinois, USA, recognizes the freedom that comes from managing their finances with a budget. When the Jeffrey children were very young, the family realized that three of them would be serving missions at the same time. Recognizing the financial strain this would place on the family, their mother, Olga, implemented a strict budget. Along with paying 10 percent of the family’s income to tithing, Sister Jeffrey set aside an additional 10 percent to save for her future missionaries. “I realized that finances could become a stumbling block and that we needed to be prepared to provide the means for our children to serve the Lord,” Sister Jeffrey says.
As the Jeffrey children began leaving on missions, their parents were financially prepared, and the Lord blessed them.

Henry serves as a great ambassador of the Church. Wherever he competes, all around the world, he is known as a Latter-day Saint. “When I compete in Europe I always have missionaries come up to me at races. I represent the Church wherever I go as far as people identifying me as being Mormon. When I was on my way home from the Spartakiad in Russia I was talking to a Finnish man on the plane, and I gave him a Book of Mormon. A couple of years later I was at a BYU basketball game when a guy came up to me and said, ‘Are you Henry Marsh? I was a missionary in Finland and I taught a guy you gave a Book of Mormon to.’ It’s a small world.
“I also talked to Alberto Salazar, the great road and track racer, in Rome last year when we were on the bus together. We got into a long discussion on the Church, and I called up my friend Wade Bell in Oregon, who was on the 1968 Olympic team and was seventies quorum president in Oregon. He gave Alberto a copy of the Book of Mormon.”
Henry has been the subject of many many articles in important magazines and newspapers, and his Church membership is usually mentioned. One article in Sports Illustrated was titled “Go, You Stormin’ Mormon.”
Henry keeps running in perspective. “Running is a temporary thing. You reach your peak early in life, and then you’ve got the rest of your life to live.”
His own goals reflect that. “My number one goal is to go to the celestial kingdom and have my family with me. My other goals are all the things that will get us there. I have many goals in different areas of my life, and there are so many aspects of life. I have goals in the area of family, vocation, racing. I’d like a gold medal in the ’84 Olympics for example. We set family goals constantly. The overall goal is to raise a good family. Right now we have a delightful boy and a charming little girl. I try to spend as much time with my family as I can. Sometimes when I go to a track to train I take my boy with me, and he’ll stand on the track and make me hurdle him as I go past.
“My family is certainly a lot more important than the steeplechase.”
Also important in Henry’s scheme of things is his work as an attorney in a Salt Lake law firm. “I want to make a real contribution to each client I represent. I feel a strong obligation to do all I can to be an effective advocate for his needs.” He tears into each case with the same white-hot intensity he gives the last 20 yards of the steeplechase.
In addition to his work as an attorney, he also donates many hours of his time to community service through speaking to youth and school groups and serving on the U.S. Olympic Executive Board.
After this exhausting schedule of service to family, church, employers, and community, it’s a miracle he finds the energy to train for the steeplechase, but he must. Only world-class training can produce a world-class athlete. And training isn’t always fun. “Some days running is drudgery. It’s hard work. But unless you put in the work, you’re not going to get the reward.” In good weather Henry often runs near his home, high on the hillside above Bountiful, enjoying the panoramic view. But when the snows come, as they do four or five months each year, he must switch to endless circuits around an indoor track. There is no poetry to such work, only pain. If he wishes to train on a real steeplechase course, he must travel 30 miles.
Henry’s philosophy of training is perfect for the athlete who must also hold down a job. He does not emphasize running a staggering number of miles as some runners do. But he runs hard, intensely, up on his toes just as if he were really in a race, wringing two miles worth of good out of every mile he covers. “I have goals I try to accomplish each time I work out, and my goals are not geared toward the number of miles I cover. I really don’t keep track of miles. Somebody may say to me, ‘I ran 100 miles this week, and you only ran 50,’ but it’s the type of miles you’re running rather than how many miles you’ve run, because my miles are intense. I might only cover six miles this afternoon, but I guarantee you they’re tough miles and they’re run to accomplish a certain purpose rather than just to see if I can jog six miles.” Of course training is not just a matter of running. There are stretching and warm-up exercises and hurdling techniques to be practiced and honed. Most days at lunchtime, instead of relaxing over an executive lunch at some restaurant, Henry can be found bouncing around in an aerobic workout session at a nearby gymnasium.
The steeplechase is by no means the most important thing in Henry’s life, but it certainly ranks high right now. And why not? It has put him through college and law school, helped to spread the gospel around the world, and taught some great lessons about the importance of clearing life’s hurdles and having a strong finish. And it has made Henry such a winner that he can make news just by losing. But his opponents can tell you that he doesn’t make that kind of news very often.

Through my experience in Church service, I have witnessed great miracles and cherished memories that have helped me recognize the Father’s love and guidance. A few years ago, as a young bishop, I remember planning to visit some of my ward members with the stake presidency. On this particular occasion, I had a powerful impression to visit the home of a young man I had not met yet. I had just been called as bishop, and his family had not been previously attending.

When we arrived at the family home, the mother was overjoyed to see us. This was a family of two good parents, two daughters, and a son, who was a future Aaronic Priesthood holder. We introduced ourselves and told her that her son was a member of the quorum I presided over. After that visit, the family began attending church and following the covenant path.

As a family, they made covenants in the temple, the three children served full-time missions, and they continued to strive to live the gospel. I know that Heavenly Father knew them, loved them, and cared enough about them to send inspiration to a young, inexperienced bishop to find them and invite them back to the fold.

In 1918 Brother George Goates was a farmer who raised sugar beets in Lehi, Utah. Winter came early that year and froze much of his beet crop in the ground. For George and his young son Francis, the harvest was slow and difficult. Meanwhile, an influenza epidemic was raging. The dreaded disease claimed the lives of George’s son Charles and three of Charles’s small children—two little girls and a boy. In the course of only six days, a grieving George Goates made three separate trips to Ogden, Utah, to bring the bodies home for burial. At the end of this terrible interlude, George and Francis hitched up their wagon and headed back to the beet field.
“[On the way] they passed wagon after wagon-load of beets being hauled to the factory and driven by neighborhood farmers. As they passed by, each driver would wave a greeting: ‘Hi ya, Uncle George,’ ‘Sure sorry, George,’ ‘Tough break, George,’ ‘You’ve got a lot of friends, George.’
“On the last wagon was … freckled-faced Jasper Rolfe. He waved a cheery greeting and called out: ‘That’s all of ’em, Uncle George.’
“[Brother Goates] turned to Francis and said: ‘I wish it was all of ours.’
“When they arrived at the farm gate, Francis jumped down off the big red beet wagon and opened the gate as [his father] drove onto the field. [George] pulled up, stopped the team, … and scanned the field. … There wasn’t a sugar beet on the whole field. Then it dawned upon him what Jasper Rolfe meant when he called out: ‘That’s all of ’em, Uncle George!’
“[George] got down off the wagon, picked up a handful of the rich, brown soil he loved so much, and then … a beet top, and he looked for a moment at these symbols of his labor, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Then [he] sat down on a pile of beet tops—this man who brought four of his loved ones home for burial in the course of only six days; made caskets, dug graves, and even helped with the burial clothing—this amazing man who never faltered, nor flinched, nor wavered throughout this agonizing ordeal—sat down on a pile of beet tops and sobbed like a little child.
“Then he arose, wiped his eyes, … looked up at the sky, and said: ‘Thanks, Father, for the elders of our ward.’”

Feeling the influence of the Spirit is what the gospel means to many members in Otavalo—people like Lauro Yamverla and his wife, Lucila. In the beginning, he made it hard for the missionaries to teach him, Brother Yamverla recalls. But when the Spirit bore witness that their message was true, “I set a goal that if I was going to be baptized, I was going to follow the gospel’s teachings strictly.” When he began closing his grocery store on Sundays, he worried at first about losing business, but it actually got better.
Brother and Sister Yamverla have been deeply involved in service since they came into the Church. As ward Relief Society president, Sister Yamverla is concerned with helping sisters in her area learn practical things, such as cooking and other basic homemaking skills. But even more important is teaching them “to convey the love of Christ to others.”

Elder Renlund and his family lived in Sweden when he was 12. One Sunday another deacon brought a firecracker and matches to the Church building. Before others arrived, Elder Renlund lit the firecracker! He tried to put it out, but it exploded and filled the chapel with fumes. Nothing was damaged, but the smell distracted everyone in sacrament meeting. Elder Renlund felt so bad that he decided not to take the sacrament. After church, he confessed to his branch president what he had done. Elder Renlund felt joy and happiness when he repented and knew he was forgiven.

My parents did not belong to a church when I was a boy, and they didn’t talk much with me about Jesus Christ. But even as a little child, I always said my prayers. I slept in an upstairs loft on a couple of mattresses. I climbed the stairs, knelt beside the mattresses, and talked with Heavenly Father. Then I rolled into bed. I’m sure I didn’t use hallowed language, but I learned to feel comfortable praying, so that when I heard the missionaries as a teenager, it was an easy thing for me to pray about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon, and to ask Heavenly Father if the Church was true.

Such a man was Paul Tingey. Just a month ago I attended his funeral services here in Salt Lake City. Paul grew up in a fine Latter-day Saint home and served an honorable mission for the Lord in Germany. A companion of his in the mission field was Elder Bruce D. Porter of the First Quorum of the Seventy. Elder Porter described Elder Tingey as one of the most dedicated and successful missionaries he ever knew.

At the conclusion of his mission, Elder Tingey returned home, completed his studies at the university, married his sweetheart, and together with her reared their family. He served as a bishop and was successful in his vocation.

Then, without much warning, the symptoms of a dreaded disease struck his nervous system—even multiple sclerosis. Held captive by this malady, Paul Tingey struggled valiantly but then was confined to a care facility for the remainder of his life. There he cheered up the sad and made everyone feel glad. Whenever I attended Church meetings there, Paul lifted my spirits, as he did all others.

When the World Olympics came to Salt Lake City in 2002, Paul was selected to carry the Olympic torch for a specified distance. When this was announced at the care facility, a cheer erupted from those patients assembled, and a hearty round of applause echoed through the halls. As I congratulated Paul, he said with his limited diction, “I hope I don’t drop the torch!”

Brethren, Paul Tingey didn’t drop the Olympic torch. What’s more, he carried bravely the torch he was handed in life and did so to the day of his passing.

Spirituality, faith, determination, courage—Paul Tingey had them all.

Becca Briggs of the Oakhills Fifth Ward, Oakhills California Stake, has really got things cooking. Becca was selected as one of 26 finalists in Seventeen Magazine’s National Menu Planning Competition, and went on to place with the top five winners, for which she received a special citation for her “Junior Prom Dinner for Two” entry.

“I’ve always liked to experiment with fancy foods and interesting recipes,” said Becca. “I’d watch my mom cook when I was little, and decided that I wanted to learn how, too, so I started cooking back then. When my foods teacher at high school encouraged me to enter the Seventeen Magazine contest, it just seemed natural.”

So Becca and the 25 other finalists (including Jennie Balliff from the Oak Hills Sixth Ward, Provo Utah Oak Hills Stake) were off to the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, New York, for the final competition where they would whip up their delectable dishes for the judges.

“It was fun cooking in the huge kitchens there and getting to know the other finalists from across the United States,” said Becca. “A lot of people asked me about the Mormons when they learned I was from Utah. I told them that I believed in God, and explained the Church and our beliefs to them. It was a good missionary experience.”

Becca’s prize-winning menu included salmon in pastry with cheese sauce, cream of leek and potato soup, chocolate mousse, and fresh strawberries dipped in chocolate. You might like to try one of her recipes.

But no team’s members will be more loyal to each other, their coaches, and their fans than the priests quorum of the Kagiso Ward, Soweto South Africa Stake, even though they won’t be playing for the World Cup. A little over a year ago, six of these young men were introduced to the Church by their football coach, who is himself a recent convert. Now they are at the heart of another “team”—their priests quorum—and working with another “coach”—their bishop—as they live the gospel day by day and prepare to serve as full-time missionaries.
Like many people in South Africa, 29-year-old Solomon Eliya Tumane loves football. He spends tireless hours each week coaching the Hurricanes Football Club. He loves his players and rejoices in their successes. They love and respect him in return. So when Coach Solomon joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, his players were curious.
“He would come to practice straight from his institute class,” says McDonald Siyabulela Manyakanyaka, 17. “We could see the scriptures and Church magazines in his bag, so we started asking questions, and to answer, he would read to us,” says Thapelo Benjamin Sesinyi, 17.
“I was eager to teach these young ones because I love them so much,” Coach Solomon says. “I want them to go in the right path. I told one of them, ‘You would do well if you read the scriptures,’ so they all started reading the scriptures. They enjoyed it, so then I taught them about prayer. Then one day they surprised me. I got to practice early, and I was taking a nap when they woke me and said, ‘Coach, we need to visit your church.’ That was a day I will never forget, because I knew then that they were on the right path.”
But the coach wouldn’t go further without parental approval. He went to each player’s home, one at a time, to ask if it was all right to invite the players to church. The parents agreed. “We came to church three weeks in a row,” Thapelo remembers. “We wanted to learn more and more.” So the coach again asked parents for permission, this time for the players to study with the full-time missionaries. Again the parents agreed.
“The missionaries gave us each a copy of the Book of Mormon,” McDonald says. “They told us to read it and pray about it because it is true, so we did. I prayed and read and found the Book of Mormon to be true.” So did other players, who were then baptized and confirmed. Five of the team members are now Latter-day Saints.
Most teams set goals for a winning season, but these five young Hurricanes are also shooting for another goal in the not-too-distant future. With the guidance of Bishop Bongani Mahlubi, a man they consider a spiritual coach, they are preparing for full-time missionary service.
“They are a great strength in our ward,” the bishop says. “And they are part of that great priesthood team of Aaronic and Melchizedek Priesthood holders all over the world. These young men do everything together—they walk to school together, play football together, go to seminary together, and serve in the priesthood together. If I call one young man to ask if he can help, I get all five.” McDonald says the priests quorum also studies regularly from Preach My Gospel, and Thapelo says that in addition to inviting friends to church, quorum members seek out those who no longer attend. “In many ways, we are learning to be missionaries now,” he says.
“We often hear from these young men in testimony meeting,” the bishop says. “They often promise Coach Solomon that they will go on full-time missions.” Nothing would make their football coach happier. “I can’t wait for them to serve,” Solomon says.
Unity, gospel knowledge, and an orientation toward service—those are all part of a solid training regime for prospective missionaries. And in addition, these young men have already developed a great desire to work together to do good. Just like the football teams competing for the World Cup, they depend on each other, on their coaches, and on their fans (including ward members, families, and friends) to get them through to their “championship.” With that kind of team spirit, their goals will be achieved.

“Oh, I’m so glad you can come! I was afraid I might have to miss the program. I’m one of the angels in the choir.”
“Oh, we’ll all come. None of our children are in a Christmas program this year, so we’ll be happy to see yours.”
Later that evening the family sat together in the darkened auditorium, waiting for the program to begin. The curtains opened, and the program began with angels singing familiar Christmas carols. As she watched row after row of children from the audience around her go with their braces, crutches, or wheelchairs to perform on stage, Holly thought about how hard it must be for them to do things—and to do some of them in front of all these people too! She wasn’t at all surprised to see silent tears sliding down her mother’s face. Somehow after listening to Debbie all afternoon telling about her friends and the tricks they played and about how they got in trouble for racing down the hall in wheelchairs, Holly had nearly forgotten about their physical problems.
After the choir sang, a play about Santa Claus began. Santa had a bad case of gout, and he had to have physical therapy and treatment at the School for Crippled Children before he could go on his usual Christmas Eve rounds.
The part of the doctor was played by a handsome, humpbacked teenager who walked with a cane. Suddenly he lost his balance and went crashing to the floor. The audience gasped with concern. Holly felt Greg’s shoulder moving against hers, and she realized that he was struggling with the boy to stand up. Finally the boy got to his feet.
“Nurse, see that something is done about that floor!” the boy commanded, thumping the offending floor with his cane.
Waves of applause filled the auditorium along with relieved laughter. It was a Christmas program that none of them would ever forget.