Gospel Story Finder

Christian Mavinga, president of the Kigali-Rwanda Mission of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, undertook an arduous eight-hour journey on a hazardous road from Bujumbura, Burundi, to Baraka, South Kivu in DR Congo, to create a new branch of the Church on Sunday January 14, 2024. He was accompanied by Nuru Mirungo Salomon, first counselor in the Bujumbura District presidency, Lokwa Hoga, president of the Kalundu Branch, and Désiré Mpawenayo, communications director in Burundi.
Before becoming a branch on January 14, Church members in Baraka were organized as a group (a small congregation subordinate to a branch) for 10 years. A branch is a fully functioning congregation of the Church with Melchizedek Priesthood holders who are presided over by a stake president or, in the case of the Baraka Branch, the mission president. The first members of the Church in Baraka were converted in 2009, and since then the number of faithful has grown steadily.
According to the Church members in Baraka, this was an unforgettable day because the new branch was an answer to their prayers. “We say thank you to our Heavenly Father for this wonderful blessing that has been bestowed upon us after many years of perseverance,” said one member.
During the meeting, President Mavinga sustained the new leaders of the Baraka Branch. Trésor Amani Amani was called as branch president, Isaya Timothée M’mumbeleca as first counselor, Onda Joseph Asende as second advisor, and Venas Ben Rosen Byaombe as branch clerk.
President Mavinga said: “When we were on our way here, I asked myself the question, why organize a branch today after more than 10 years of the group’s existence here in Baraka? I know that it is not by my strength but rather by your perseverance and your prayers as well as the missionary work that you have accomplished, the Lord has answered your prayers.”
He continued, “The Church here was not going to continue operating under the leadership of the Kalundu Branch. This branch comes as an answer to your prayers and the efforts you have made in the work of the Lord. I bear you witness that the priesthood is the power of God. Our Heavenly Father has given this power here to Baraka so that you can act in His name, is this not a proof of His love? Through the priesthood, you will lead your new branch well moving forward. We bless the members, we heal the sick and it is through the latter that we prepare its children to enter the celestial kingdom. I urge you to continue to persevere in keeping the commandments, standing firm, and always strengthening your faith in Jesus Christ to receive the greatest blessing which is eternal life.”
Trésor Amani Amani, the new branch president, expressed his satisfaction at seeing the organization of this branch. He told the members that they have fought a great battle of perseverance for 13 years, “I urge you to tithe honestly and completely, to love one another, to remain united, and to share the gospel finally to spread this restored gospel of our Savior Jesus Christ.”
“Dear brothers and sisters,” he testified, “I know if we serve our fellow men, we will progress until we have a second branch, and a third. If we continue to share joy with others in unity through faith in Jesus Christ, through repentance, baptism, receiving the gift of the Holy Spirit, and persevering to the end, we will have eternal life. I know that the priesthood is the authority and power of God, our dear President Russell M. Nelson is called of God, all Church leaders as well as our dear mission president, I pray that when Jesus Christ returns and that he will find the members of Baraka rejoicing. I also know that if we read the Book of Mormon we will be greatly blessed.”

When the weather got warmer, there was time for some mountain climbing with Wallace and LeRoi, the three young men striking out for the “highest point” in the mountains above Brigham City:
“We climbed up some of the roughest places I had ever been over. I took the lead after half of the way had been traveled. LeRoi shot a snake over five feet long. There were large, deep banks of snow, some over five feet deep. Large towering masses of stone began to get very common. I walked over one large bed of rock, jumped from one stone to another. Large, deep holes, many over 25 feet to the bottom, were a common thing amongst this immense mass or field of rock. We rolled large boulders over many precipices, and they seemed to shake the earth on their destructive path, tearing up trees by the roots. I arrived at the top first, 25 minutes ahead of the others. … We could see Logan City and the beautiful white Logan temple from our lofty view. We also saw the small towns in all directions around. I left the top for home 2:10 after writing a few notes down. I ran down a path, flying homeward, arriving one hour ahead of the boys. I enjoyed it very much; wore out my shoes.”

On February 19, 2019, Elder Ulisses Soares of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and his wife, Rosana Fernandes, arrived on the island of Curaçao. He was also accompanied by Elder Walter F. Gonzalez of the Quorum of the Seventy. Elder Soares used the opportunity to meet with the missionaries serving in Aruba, Bonaire and Curaçao.
Meeting with missionaries on February 20, Elder Soares took the opportunity to remind them of their purpose as missionaries and about the importance of their service to the people. This meeting was also broadcast to the missionaries serving in Guyana and Suriname.
Later, Elder Soares presided over a meeting with 109 members in Curaçao. This meeting took place at the chapel in Mahaai, where the only branch is located. This was a historic event for most of the members, being the first time that a member of the Quorum of the Twelve has visited this island.
During this meeting, two pioneer members shared their testimonies. Sister Ingeborg Zielinski Reni, who was the first member of the church on the island, shared her story about her involvement in the missionary efforts on the island. Sister Yvonne Antersijn also shared her experiences as the first native woman to be baptized on the island.
Elder Gonzalez told the members to consider using The Book of Mormon not only for their own life purpose, but also for the lives of others.
Elder Soares recounted Sister Zielinski’s dream where a temple was constructed on the island of Curaçao. He said: “The way President Nelson is announcing new temples makes me think that this may not be a dream. There will be a day where the Lord shall tell President Nelson to construct a temple on the island of Curacao, but you need to do your part and be faithful. The door will open, and the message will penetrate the hearts of the inhabitants of Curaçao. A miracle will happen in front of your eyes.”

One evening as I was taxiing my plane full of passengers to the runway, I had a feeling that something was wrong with the aircraft steering system. To confirm my spiritual impression, I pulled off the taxiway and did a few 360-degree turns. Nothing seemed out of order.
I wondered, “Should I take off and get the passengers to their destination on time, or should I return to the gate?” I knew returning would create a long delay. Taxiway runs are one way; I would have to wait for ground control to create a space for me to taxi against the traffic flow. Then we would have to wait for the maintenance crew to check out the plane. The delays could cause problems for the airline and for the passengers who had people to meet and connections to make. I also wondered how the maintenance department would react to my report that the plane had a problem when I had nothing to go on except a strong feeling.
As captain of the aircraft, I was responsible for our safety, so I decided to follow my impression and return.
When we arrived at the gate, I told the mechanic that I felt something was wrong with the plane but that I didn’t know what the trouble was. He did not believe there was a problem.
“It was probably just the wet taxiway,” he said. “You may have been slipping on the asphalt.” He agreed, nevertheless, to look at the steering gear on the nose wheel. After checking it, he asked me to off-load the passengers so he could take the plane for a test ride.
When he returned 30 minutes later, he was very concerned. During the test ride, he had heard an intermittent grinding sound. When he applied the brakes as he was turning around to return to the gate, he lost control of the plane and nearly ran off the taxiway.
A close inspection revealed that the brakes had undergone improper maintenance the previous evening. Had I landed the plane after our flight, the brakes would have failed, and I would have lost control of the plane.
I received another aircraft to pilot, and I safely delivered my passengers to their destination three hours late.
I am glad I listened to the whisperings of the Spirit. I know that the Spirit will direct us if we seek the Lord’s guidance and listen to the promptings that come.

As a small boy on the farm during the searing heat of the summer, I remember my grandmother Mary Finlinson cooking our delicious meals on a hot wood stove. When the woodbox next to the stove became empty, Grandmother silently picked it up, refilled it from the pile of cedar wood outside, and brought the heavily laden box back into the house. I was so interested in the conversation in the kitchen that I sat there and let my beloved grandmother refill the kitchen woodbox. I feel ashamed of myself and have regretted my omission all my life. I hope someday to ask for her forgiveness.

One pivotal learning experience occurred in the central part of Africa in the Republic of the Congo. The village of Luputa is a community of about 250,000 people. There was no central water system to support the daily needs of the people. Missionaries found it difficult to teach people, because they were always walking to obtain water to meet their daily water needs. The women of the village walked about thirty-five kilometers (twenty miles) to a spring where they loaded a forty-pound water container and then returned home carrying the container on their head. It took about eight hours a day to obtain their water for cooking, washing, drinking, bathing and all other needs. There was precious little time left in the day to do anything else.
Seeing this commitment to provide clean water for their families, the Church offered to assist the villages by building a reservoir and distribution system for the community. The villagers would have to sacrifice their time and energy to dig the trench for the water line from the spring to the reservoir. The Church bought the pipe and built the concrete water stations. It took three years of hard work and sacrifice to dig the trench, but with the installation completed, the women now only had to walk an average of fifteen to twenty minutes to obtain their water.
Just think of the change that brought into their lives. Now they had time to care for their children, read, learn and serve each other. In changing their time commitment to obtaining water, the people of Luputa now had time to listen to the message of the gospel. Within one year of putting the new pipes in place, over two thousand people had joined the Church. In June of 2011 the tenth stake was organized in the Republic of the Congo.

“I had been taught to obey the Word of Wisdom, and I earnestly tried to obey it all my life. When I was married and a young bishop and the father of three children, my brother and I were involved in a serious car accident. I walked to get help for the other people in the accident, who were unconscious. By the time I got to the hospital myself, I’d lost a great deal of blood, and the doctors thought that I wouldn’t live. I asked the Lord to let me live to fulfill my responsibilities as husband, father, and bishop, and I heard a voice speaking, just as clearly as I might speak to you, say that because I had lived the Word of Wisdom all my life, I would ‘run and not be weary, and … walk and not faint’ [D&C 89:20] and that I would receive even more blessings. When my wife arrived at the hospital, someone suggested that she not go into my room because I looked so terrible. She asked, ‘Is he breathing?’ and went in anyway. She also received the same witness that I would live.”

A lot of us are not willing to step on the starter or the gas as we journey along through life. I met a student who was like that when I was dean of the College of Agriculture at Utah State University. One day I had a phone call from the Admissions Office and was told, “Dean Bennett, we have a young man here who wants to transfer from BYU to Utah State, and he wants to register in your college. His record at the Y was terrible. On the basis of his record we cannot accept him. Now, if you would be willing to interview him, put him on probation, and accept him on that basis, that is all right with us.”
I said, “Send his record over and let me have about 15 minutes to look at it. Then send him over. I would like to talk to him personally.”
They sent his record over. It was just as bad as they had said it was—just terrible—but I knew that this young man had just returned from a mission and that a mission sometimes helps a young man set serious goals and objectives and get control of himself. I was, therefore, interested in interviewing him.
He came over. The first question I asked him was, “Your record at the Y was not very good, was it?” He said, “Oh, I suppose it could have been better.” He spoke in a lackadaisical manner. That told me something—something I was looking for, something about his attitude—so I began digging beneath the surface a bit and coming at him from different angles. After three-quarters of an hour I was convinced his attitude was not good, and I decided to jar him.
“On the basis of your record at the Y,” I said, “I should not agree to your admittance. On the basis of your attitude, I am not going to admit you.”
That jarred him, and he immediately started coming at me from different angles, trying to get me to reconsider. But I was firm. Finally I got through to that young man when I said, “Have you ever stopped to realize that to you as an individual the most important life that will ever be lived is your life, and here you are, wasting it away. You seem to be satisfied with the situation. Have you ever stopped to think that the greatest loss of power that we have in this world is the loss that results from the failure of individuals to reach their potential?” The tears started to stream down his cheeks. He arose from his chair, snapped his fingers, and said, “I’ll accept your challenge if you will just admit me. I will demonstrate that I can cut the muster.”
I said, “Do you really mean that?” He said, “I do, and I am pleading for another chance.” I replied, “If you really mean it, I will give you that chance.” He said, “I really mean it.”
“All right,” I said, “I will approve your admittance.” And I did.
That young man established some goals that day, and he was serious about them. He went to work. Oh, how he worked. Winter quarter he got better than a B- average as I recall. Spring quarter he improved upon that; and he went on and on and graduated from Utah State University. I look back upon that experience as one of the choice experiences of my life—getting through to that young man, arousing him, and awakening him to the point where he established goals that were challenging.

In 1960 I met a young man at a party who told me that Jesus Christ had visited the Americas after His Resurrection. I found the idea incredible and wanted to know more, so I began searching in libraries and inquiring of the various religious denominations in my hometown of San Miguel, El Salvador.
I searched for almost three years but found nothing. When I mentioned to various religious leaders that I had heard of Christ’s coming to the Americas, they told me I had been deceived. Because my search turned up no information, I eventually came to believe they were right.
One day two missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints came to my home and said they had an important message for my family. I immediately remembered my previous inquiries and asked them, “Do you know if Jesus Christ came to the Americas?”
One of the young men said, “We bear witness of that.”
At that moment I felt a great excitement in my mind and heart, and I asked, “How do you know that?”
He took a book out of his bag and said, “We know Christ came here because of this book, the Book of Mormon.”
What the missionaries taught me during that first discussion troubled me, and I doubted the account of the Prophet Joseph Smith’s vision of the Father and the Son. However, the Book of Mormon intrigued me, and the missionaries kept teaching me the lessons.
One afternoon, the elders asked me, “Have you prayed to find out if what we are teaching you is true?”
I told them I had done so but had not obtained an answer.
“You must pray with real intent,” they said.
I had been reading the Book of Mormon for several nights and had read about and believed in Jesus Christ’s appearance to the Nephites, but I still could not accept Joseph Smith’s vision. My internal struggle was terrible.
One night I knelt alone and opened my heart to God. I told Him that I needed to know if He had really manifested Himself to Joseph Smith. If He had, I promised Him I would be baptized into the Church and serve Him all my life.
When I arose early the next morning, the answer came to me through the Holy Ghost. My mind cleared, and my heart filled with peace. From that moment on, I have had no doubts whatsoever that Joseph Smith truly was a prophet of God, that the Book of Mormon is another testament of Jesus Christ, and that Jesus Christ is our Savior and Redeemer.
I know that Christ came to the Americas after His Resurrection. My soul delights in this marvelous knowledge, taught to me with certainty by the power of the Holy Ghost.

I left school at the age of 18 with poor A-level results. If I had to sum up my life it would be football, music, best mates and girlfriends. I managed to pass an aptitude test with British Gas and committed myself to a commercial traineeship for the next 3 years. I was to get paid for studying. A ‘win-win’ if ever I had encountered one!
However, this was a time in my young life when my years growing up in the Church clashed with “the world” and after a few years of living one face to my parents and church friends, and another to my work colleagues and teammates, I felt unsettled. I was not at ease with myself.
Fortunately, I had retained some private, religious behaviours. I prayed from time to time, usually when I needed something; I attended church just to meet with my friends; I did like to read the scriptures, bingeing from time to time when I needed a ‘pick me up’. It was whilst on one of these binges that I came across a scripture that hit me. It was in James 1:8, “A double-minded man is unstable in all his ways.” These words rang true and caused me to think very deeply about myself and how I was living. I had got to the point where I needed to know the truth; one way or another I needed to know!
It came to a head when I went on a 2-week training course to Nottingham. I was in my twenty-second year now. The lads on the course kept pestering me to ‘go out on the town’ … and I knew what that meant! But, after giving them some feeble, embarrassing excuses as to why I couldn’t, I determined instead to go on a long walk and ask God for the truth. As I walked, I prayed, and my prayer was demanding: “Lord, if you want me to live this gospel, with all its inconvenient commandments, for the rest of my life, then I need to know if this church is true!” I walked and prayed and prayed and walked for a few hours, repeating that same prayer. When I got back to my bedroom late at night, I got into this big double bed and asked the Lord one more time and implored that I did not want to sleep without this being resolved.
Then someone spoke to me. I say “someone” because I was alarmed by the voice. I looked around the room fully expecting someone to be there. There was no one to be seen, but I heard a voice that was external to me; it wasn’t my normal voice of conscience. I’d never heard it before nor have I since but, oh, was it powerful, penetrating, firm, loving and fatherly, all at the same time. Four words were said: “Martin, serve a mission!” This to say the least surprised me and in a split second I responded, “But, but, Lord, I never asked you if I should serve a mission, I only asked if the church was true!” I had gotten more than I had bargained for.
The voice said to Enos: “thy sins are forgiven thee”. To me I can infer it said thy sins are forgiven thee, but I had an additional charge …. now get yourself on a mission!
As you can imagine, this experience changed my life! I now had direction, I now had the truth! Did I serve with all my “heart, might, mind and strength” on that mission to London when I was a ‘youngish’ man? Absolutely!

Joseph permitted teachers to use the large upper room to conduct their classes. However, the boisterousness of some students frequently disturbed the clerks, who were often at work writing the history of the Church. One of the Prophet’s sons, Joseph Smith III, recalled: “As schoolboys we had good reason to remember Doctor Willard Richards [one of the clerks], for often in going down the stairway from the schoolroom we were noisy, which seemed to annoy him considerably. Upon one or two occasions he met us at the foot of the stairs and refused to let us pass, the while he cautioned us to be more quiet. Doubtless we were annoying as we trampled and jostled, crowding the steps and surging through the door. He especially scolded the larger children. We learned it was better to go quietly than to cause such real distress” (Mary Audentia Smith Anderson and Bertha Audentia Anderson Hulmes, editors, Joseph Smith III and the Restoration, Independence, Missouri: Herald Publishing House, 1952, p. 28).

Often the price paid for membership in the Church was great. Jesucita Mera de Monroy was a widow and mother of four children. In 1902, after the death of her husband, she moved to the town of San Marcos in central Mexico, where she worked in a governmental position and operated a small grocery store. In March of 1913 Elders W. Ernest Young and Willard Huish visited San Marcos to conduct a funeral service for the only member in the town, Jesús Sanchez. After the funeral Señora Monroy approached the missionaries and asked them to come to her home and teach her family the gospel. After close to three months of studying, she and several members of her family, including her adult son Rafael, were baptized. This family became stalwarts in the Church, and they were influential in the development of a strong branch in the region.

Mexico was then in the midst of a civil war in which its citizenry, including members of the Church, often became innocent victims of violence. Two months after the baptism of the Monroy family, the American missionaries left Mexico because of concern for their safety. The members were left on their own. Rafael was put in charge of the small San Marcos branch. Unfortunately, in July 1915, because of a misunderstanding concerning his political activity, Rafael Monroy; Vicente Morales, his first counselor in the branch; and three of Jesucita’s daughters—Natalina, Jovita, and Guadalupe—were imprisoned by one of the revolutionary groups in the region. Their religious affiliation with the Church played a part in their arrest.

Jesucita was frantic as she tried to satisfy the demands of the leaders of the group and convince them that her children were innocent of any crime. After two days of interrogation and torture, Rafael Monroy and Vicente Morales were executed by a firing squad. Jesucita had the terrible and lonely task of recovering the bodies and organizing their burial, since most in the village, including members of the Church, distanced themselves from her and her family. Her trials continued, and she found it necessary to move from the town for a while. Her letter to Rey L. Pratt, then president of the Mexican Mission, shows her strength and faith in the gospel: “Our sorrows have been grievous, but our faith is strong, and we will never forsake this religion” (quoted in Walter Ernest Young, The Diary of W. Ernest Young [Provo: Brigham Young University Press, 1973), 121). Her promise was kept, and she and most members of her family remained faithful to the Church. (See Mark L. Grover, “Execution in Mexico: The Deaths of Rafael Monroy and Vicente Morales,” BYU Studies 35, no. 3 (1995–96): 6–28.)

At the end of my second year I applied to my university’s graphic design program. I wasn’t accepted, but I was eligible to reapply the following year. I wasn’t thrilled about waiting another year to graduate.
The closest thing to my chosen major was photography. So I prayed about changing my major and felt good about it. I just wanted to get my degree!
At the start of the fall semester, I had classes on film and on the social history of photography. I was excited about both. But as I looked over the syllabus of my film class, I noticed that students would be required to watch many R-rated movies. In my photography class the teacher stated that the pictures we would be studying would be violent, disturbing, and sexual. She said that was what photography was mostly about these days.
My heart sank as I contemplated what to do. I knew that the gospel taught against such things, but these classes were required. I thought of the scripture about being in the world but not of the world (see John 15:19). Could I be in these classes but not of them?
I prayed to know what to do and to have the faith to do what was right. I also counseled with my wife, parents, and brother. As I spoke with my brother, he reminded me of the following verse: “For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?” (Matthew 16:26).
I knew that education is important, but was I in the wrong field? How could I drop out of school temporarily when the light at the end of the tunnel was so close?
Late one night while I was up with our sick baby, the thought came to me to look up President Thomas S. Monson on the Internet.
Late one night while I was up with our sick baby, the thought came to me to look up President Thomas S. Monson on the Internet. Soon I was watching a general conference talk President Monson had delivered in October 2011. I listened intently as he talked about the deterioration of society’s moral compass, saying that inappropriate and immoral behavior had become acceptable by many.
Then he said exactly what I needed to hear: “We must be vigilant in a world which has moved so far from that which is spiritual. It is essential that we reject anything that does not conform to our standards, refusing in the process to surrender that which we desire most: eternal life in the kingdom of God.”1
These words pierced me with great power. As tears ran down my face, I knew that a living prophet had answered my prayer.
Although I have postponed my plans for graduation, I know that the Lord will bless my family and me as we follow the prophet, reject the views of the world, obey the commandments, and support gospel standards.

Within weeks of my call to the Twelve in October 2015, I had the opportunity to get an up-close glimpse of the past professional life of President Nelson. I was invited to attend an event where he was honored as a pioneer of heart surgery. When I entered the venue, I was astonished to see the large number of professionals there to honor and recognize the work that President Nelson had done many years before as a medical doctor and surgeon.

That evening numerous professionals stood and expressed their respect and admiration for President Nelson’s outstanding contribution to his medical specialty. As impressive as each of the presenters was in describing President Nelson’s various accomplishments, I was even more spellbound by a conversation I struck up with a man seated next to me. He did not know who I was, but he knew President Nelson as Dr. Nelson, director of the thoracic surgery residency program at a medical school in 1955.

This man was President Nelson’s former student. He shared many memories. Most interesting was his description of President Nelson’s teaching style, which, he said, brought with it a large measure of notoriety. He explained that much of the teaching of heart surgery residents was conducted in the operating room. There, residents observed and performed surgery under faculty supervision, as a laboratory classroom. He shared that the operating room environment under certain faculty surgeons was chaotic, competitive, pressure filled, and even ego driven. This man described it as a difficult environment, sometimes even demeaning. As a result, resident surgeons even felt their careers were often on the line.

He then explained the unique environment found in President Nelson’s operating room. It was peaceful, calm, and dignified. Residents were treated with deep respect. However, following the demonstration of a procedure, Dr. Nelson expected the highest standard of performance from each of the residents. This man further described how the best patient outcomes and the best surgeons came out of Dr. Nelson’s operating room.

This is no surprise to me at all. This is what I have observed firsthand and been truly blessed by in the Quorum of the Twelve. I feel like I have been, in a sense, one of his “residents in training.”

President Nelson has an exceptional way of teaching others and offering correction in a positive, respectful, and uplifting manner. He is the embodiment of a Christlike heart and an example to us all. From him we learn that in any circumstance we find ourselves, our conduct and hearts can be in accordance with the principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

As I nervously waited to board my flight from Boston to Salt Lake City—my first airplane ride alone—my parents repeated for the zillionth time their last request.
“Don’t forget to visit Grandpa,” they said. “He’d really love it.”
“Okay,” I promised, though silently I finished it with “if I feel like it.”
I was flying out to begin my freshman year at Brigham Young University. Dad thought the trip would be an excellent opportunity for me to drop in on his dad in Salt Lake City, but I was worried enough about my own survival far from home.
I remembered Grandpa as a kind old man who always had time for his grandchildren. After chatting a little he would take us outside to swing on his swings, eat his raspberries, and gaze over the fence at his one big cow.
But seeing Grandpa now would mean doing adult things, like socializing and asking questions. Dad wouldn’t be there to do most of the talking, like he usually did. The whole idea of visiting him was making me uncomfortable.
At the airport in Salt Lake City I was met by two teenage cousins from Mom’s side of the family. They weren’t related to Grandpa Lythgoe and didn’t know about the promise I had made to my parents. How easy it would be to keep quiet and let them drive me straight to BYU.
But as we drove I thought, not only of the promise, but also how lonely Grandpa must be since Grandma died two years before. He could probably use a visit right now, especially from a grandson he didn’t see very often. So despite my fears, I asked my cousins to stop.
With Dad we would always walk in Grandpa’s back door without knocking, but this time we approached the seldom-used front door. Back doors seem reserved for people you know, and I was beginning to realize I scarcely knew him.
Grandpa came to the door, and we knew he was happy to see us. He was closing fast on his 90th birthday and looked feeble, but he was still Grandpa. The house felt empty without Grandma, but what seemed the most different was me. With Dad 2,500 miles away, I was suddenly the adult in charge of conversation, and everything I said must have sounded a bit forced.
Of course Grandpa asked me what I planned to study at BYU, and I also told him what the rest of the family was up to, but we soon ran out of things to say. I decided we should hit the road again.
A month later the rest of my family flew out for a week to help Grandpa celebrate his birthday, but a few days before the party I got a phone call. Grandpa had died the night before.
As I hung up the phone, it suddenly became clear to me how important that short visit had been a month before. I hadn’t said anything earth-shattering, and maybe part of the reason I had gone was to please my parents, but I was happy and relieved I hadn’t passed up my last chance to see Grandpa alive. I often think of Grandpa and something I later heard my mission president say: “Be glad that you did; don’t wish that you had.”

It was game day in Vidor, Texas. There were signs up around town wishing the high school team good luck. Students, teachers, and administrators were wearing black and gold, the school colors. Everyone was positive and upbeat. They just didn’t mention that Vidor High had little chance of winning.
Because Vidor High School is in a region with much larger schools, it doesn’t win very often on the football field or on the basketball court, but that doesn’t affect the students’ attitudes.
They know what true winning is all about.
“We’re always up and looking for the good things,” says Rebecca Packard, student-body president. “Our spirit is awesome,” says Mollie Hoosier. “Everyone knows that about Vidor High.”
That attitude of looking for ways to win in life instead of in competition may be influenced by the student officers at Vidor High School. This past year, the LDS students (numbering 75 in a total of about 1,500) have been the leaders in the school. The student-body president, each class president, and many of the student council members are LDS. These young Mormons want to make a difference in their school and use their influence for good among their peers.
It’s a little unusual to find a school’s student leadership so dominated by LDS students in an area of the United States outside of Utah. But these young people have learned how to make the most out of high school and support each other in staying true to gospel teachings. Their friends at school can’t help but notice, and it’s making a difference in big ways and in little things.
For example, drinking, especially at weekend parties, was a big problem for their peers, so some of the LDS students started throwing their own parties and inviting everyone, as long as they followed the house rules.
“Dad announces the rules at our house,” says Priscilla Packard. “No tobacco; no alcohol; you have to be 14 to attend the party; no pairing off in the corners; and absolutely nobody outside in the cars. Then we dance, and talk, play games, and have contests to see who can do the most back flips in a row. One guy from school who had never been to one of our parties before said, ‘Wow, there’s no alcohol here, and I’m still having fun.’” The parties given by the LDS students are popular with everyone because it isn’t just the same old thing.
Then the LDS students have changed some small things, like the way the kids at their school slow dance. Instead of bear hugging as their schoolmates were doing at school dances, the Mormon kids chose to dance using the usual waltz position. It even became known as dancing “Mormon style.”
“It makes dancing more casual,” explained Brandie Carner. “You hesitate to ask people to dance when you don’t know if they are going to hang on you.”
“You can talk easier,” added Natalie Fawcett. “You’re more at ease.”
“It has changed at school,” said Brandie. “We had a school dance just the other week, and everyone was dancing Mormon style.”
How do you let your friends know your standards? A group of LDS students, who were talking about their high school, groaned in unison. The answers came fast and in a jumble. “Oh, everyone already knows. They know by what you do. They know because of our older brothers and sisters.” Voices overlapped, with several people explaining at once how they always had to be an example, because if they did something they weren’t supposed to, someone was sure to comment, “I didn’t know you Mormons did things like that.”
The reputation of what an LDS student is like precedes them. “The teachers know what to expect,” says Veronica Jenkins. “They know the Mormon kids will work hard and try to get good grades.”
“And if you slack off,” adds Brandie, “they’ll call your parents. Teachers know the Mormon parents care.”
The LDS students try to be good examples, and some of their fellow students can’t help but notice and want to know more. “I was always associating with them,” said Erika Redfield. “It was the example I noticed. Mormons seemed to always be sensitive to other people’s feelings. They were never fake or dishonest.”
When Erika was thinking about her future, planning her education and what she wanted to do, she felt a hole in her religious life. She called one of the LDS girls she knew at school and started asking about things her friend believed. Soon she was investigating the Church with the missionaries. Erika said, “My testimony came really slow at first, but every time I read something, I prayed about it. I had the feeling that it was true. Whenever I found the truth, I wanted to hear more.” But it wasn’t easy. Friends and acquaintances made sure she was well supplied with anti-Mormon literature. “I don’t know how I stood up to it all.” But Erika had found what she was looking for and was baptized.
Now Erika feels very much a part of the LDS group. “The peer group at school is awesome. They try hard to make you fit in. I could never repay them,” Erika says pausing, “but no one asks for anything in return.”
That’s part of the secret the LDS students at Vidor High have for sharing the gospel. They try to be friends with everyone. “There are lots of people out there who aren’t LDS who are good people,” says Priscilla Packard. “Like Erika. Even before she joined the Church, she was a great person. Find those good friends and socialize with them.”
And they try not to be obnoxious about letting their friends know what they believe. Here are some of their suggestions about letting your classmates know about the Church:
Molly Hoosier: “Don’t start by telling them that our church is the only true church. They think we’re being conceited and rude to them. And don’t put down other religions.”
Elizabeth Williamson: “Don’t ever start arguing. You have to stand up for the Church, but don’t get into an argument.”
Spencer Simpson: “Don’t get into far-out subjects.”
Priscilla Packard: “Take it slowly. Sometimes the thought of talking to missionaries is too intimidating. It makes them too nervous. Talk to them about the Church just as a friend.”
Erika Redfield: “Just in conversation, don’t make yourself seem superior to them just because you don’t do the things they do.”
Natalie Fawcett: “Stay away from parties and things that could be trouble. Stay strong.”
And most of all, these students agree, it’s important to live a life that illustrates what you believe. Example cannot be underrated. It speaks much louder than words.
Erika is telling the group about a boy in one of her classes who is getting ready to be baptized. When she tells them who it is, Spencer is amazed. He says, “I sat by him yesterday. That goes to show you that you have to be an example all the time because you never know what it will mean to the person next to you.”
It means something special to be LDS at Vidor High. It means something significant to be a good example. Student-body president Rebecca says, “At school, it’s cool to be good.”
And with an attitude like that, everyone can be a winner.
William and Joissine Williamson took a Mr. Busley into their home as a boarder. While living with them he talked a lot about his past and meeting the Mormons. He said Brigham Young was a good and wise leader. Mr. Williamson listened and did some thinking and finally way off in Texas in the early 1900s, he decided that if he ever got the chance he would join that church.
At noontime on January 9, 1900, two Mormon missionaries wearily made their way up the long lane that led to the Williamsons’ front door. William, looking out the window, exclaimed, “Them’s my men!”
When William and Joissine were baptized, their posterity, all nine children, were heirs to their conversion. They formed a small but united group amid great prejudice.
Their descendants make up the majority of the LDS students at Vidor High School.
Here’s some advice from the LDS students at Vidor High about getting more involved in high school:
Join different types of clubs. You never know how much fun you’ll have if you don’t join in.
Meet all different kinds of people. Don’t be with one person all the time.
Run for student offices. Peter LaPray says, “Don’t let anyone run unopposed. Run just for the fun of it, no matter if you win or not.”
Keep your grades up. Don’t procrastinate. Turn assignments in on time.
Take school seriously. Have fun, but remember you have to plan your schedule carefully, so when it’s time to graduate you’ve completed the classes you need.
Learn to set goals and finish them. Earn your Young Womanhood Medallion or your Eagle Scout Award. Maintain your standards at all costs.
Support other groups who are doing good things.

Members of the Chico California Stake did so much to serve those affected by the fire. Every person who came to the stake center on evacuation day was housed within hours by other members of the stake. They brought us into their homes and helped us get the things that we needed. I was also amazed by the donations of every kind that we received from Saints all over the world. We’ve been blessed and supported, and we can feel their love. It’s so great to be a Latter-day Saint. I will shout that at the top of my lungs!

Last year I reported to my doctor in Baltimore, Maryland. We had a full surgery scheduled for my right hip, which would mean a body cast for several months, perhaps even endangering my ability to attend my senior year of high school. We’d known about this for a year, since the last checkup when he made it known that my right hip was in bad shape.
When my dad and I got in the examination room, my doctor placed the X rays to the light. After looking at them, examining me, and looking back at the X rays again, he announced, rather astonished, that there seemed to be nothing wrong at all with my hip. He could see no reason to perform the extensive surgery he had planned. He said that, except for some work that needed to be done on my feet, I was in fantastic health and would need no more surgeries.
That was some kind of news to someone who had already had eight major surgeries and a handful of minor ones.
It is more than important to note that many prayers had been offered by our family and others prior to my examination, and I had many dear friends praying and fasting.
Sure enough, my hip was healed. I know that only Heavenly Father could have done what I witnessed. As a result of the many times I have had to face the reality of surgery and the consequent recovery, I have learned to pray—fervently and with real intent, exactly as Heavenly Father wishes for it to be.

“Wake up, partner,” Daddy whispered. “It’s time to get ready.” I looked out my window and saw stars twinkling in the dark sky. Inside, our house was as quiet as could be. Mom, Grandma, Robby, Paul, and Jonathan were all fast asleep.
“But, Daddy, it’s still nighttime,” I said, rubbing my eyes.
“Not really,” he said, laying my clothes on the bed. “It’s just very early in the morning, and according to the fishing forecast, that’s when the fish are supposed to bite best today. So hurry and get dressed while I make our lunch.”
When I got to the kitchen, Daddy was putting our lunch into the cooler. “All ready, Lucille?” he asked, closing the cooler and grabbing his camera.
“All ready,” I said. “I’m going to catch the biggest fish in the ocean.”
Daddy laughed. “That’s what all the fishermen say.”
By the time we stopped for breakfast, I was starved. I had eggs, sausages, milk, and a yummy doughnut that dripped grape jelly all over my new white jacket.
“But, Daddy,” I said as he rubbed and rubbed the purple spots with a wet napkin, “aren’t you glad I ate all my breakfast?”
“Very glad,” he said. “You have to be strong to catch fish. Early, too, so let’s go.”
It was almost light when we got to the marina and carried our fishing rods, the cooler, and Daddy’s camera down the long wooden dock.
Our boat’s name is Fish Tales, and it’s printed on the side in bright blue letters. Fish Tales is seven years old, the same as me, and Daddy has taken our whole family for rides in it lots of times. But today he was just taking me.
Daddy unsnapped the canvas cover on Fish Tales and folded it neatly. Then he lifted me into the boat, tucked the fishing rods and camera inside a compartment, and put the cooler beside them. Finally he slipped the key into the ignition.
“Here we go,” he said as he turned the key. But nothing happened. Daddy tried and tried, but Fish Tales just wouldn’t start. Daddy lifted the engine cover and sighed a big sigh. I sat in the driver’s seat and pretended to steer. While Daddy worked on the engine, I pushed some buttons. Maybe I can get the boat to work, I thought.
“Don’t play with the controls, Lucille,” Daddy said. But there was a black box with knobs that I hadn’t tried, so I turned one of the knobs and heard crackling noises. I turned it some more and heard voices talking about the weather out on the ocean. I remembered what the black box was for and pushed the button next to the knob.
“Hello,” I said into the box. “This is Lucille, and my father’s real mad ’cause our boat’s broke.”
“LUCILLE! Please don’t help!”
I turned off the radio and didn’t push any more buttons or turn any more knobs.
“I’m hungry,” I said after a while, “and thirsty too.”
“Help yourself,” Daddy said. “But choose something nutritious. It’s still pretty early.”
I picked chocolate cookies and cream soda, and I really didn’t mean to spill the whole can of soda all over the boat.
“Lucille,” Daddy said when we finished wiping up the mess, “I’ll get out a blanket, and you can catch up on your sleep while I fix the boat.”
I didn’t want to sleep, but the blanket felt soft and Fish Tales rocked so gently. I dreamed I caught the biggest fish in the ocean.
A loud noise woke me. Fish Tales was fixed and ready to go.
“It’s almost nine o’clock,” Daddy said. “Let’s hurry before all the fish are gone.”
He unhooked the ropes that held us to the dock, and we went slowly past the other boats at the marina. Then we went fast. Then faster. I sat very still and watched the foamy path that Fish Tales left in the water. It was a wonderful, bouncy ride as we cut through the waves, looking for just the right place to fish.
Finally we slowed down and stopped where other boats had stopped too. But the waves didn’t stop, and it was hard to stand while the boat swayed from side to side.
“You’ll get used to it,” Daddy said. But I wasn’t at all sure of that. I looked up and tried to find the sun, but all I saw were big, dark clouds.
Daddy put a piece of slippery, white fish on the end of my line and dropped it over the side of the boat. Down, down it went until it hit the ocean’s bottom. Daddy handed me the rod and told me, “Hold on tight.”
“You’ll know when a fish is nibbling, Lucille,” he said. “You’ll feel a little tug on your line. Tell me when you do, and we’ll catch the first one together.” Then he put bait on his own line and fished from the other side of the boat.
I waited and waited and waited and waited.
Then I waited some more.
Not even a little fish tugged on my line. But raindrops sure dribbled on my head.
“Come on, Lucille,” Daddy said. “Let’s eat lunch. We’ll try again when the rain stops.”
I wasn’t too hungry, but it was dry inside Fish Tales’s cabin, so I sat and tore the crust off my bologna sandwich and tossed it through a porthole into the water. Then I pressed my sandwich flat and tried to eat it. But the boat rocked and rolled, and so did my stomach. Even the green grapes and cream soda didn’t taste too good.
“Daddy,” I said, “my stomach feels funny.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “The water is getting a bit choppy. Forget about lunch, partner. We’ll eat later.”
“Are you sure there’re fish in this ocean?” I asked.
“I’m sure,” he said. “Look. It’s only drizzling. Let’s fish again. If we don’t catch anything in ten minutes, we’ll go. Sometimes, Lucille, they just don’t bite.”
My stomach felt awful as I stood in the rain and lowered my line again. I yanked on it, but just a little, to get the fishes’ attention. Suddenly it felt heavy, so I pulled harder—and harder. Something really gigantic was on the end of my line. I just knew it was the biggest fish in the ocean.
“I got one!” I yelled, and Daddy dropped his rod and hurried over to help me. Together we reeled and pulled and reeled and pulled. I was glad I’d eaten such a good breakfast, because it took all our strength to land that rusty old kitchen chair.
“Can we keep it?” I asked.
“Well … Sure, why not?” Daddy muttered. “It’s the only thing we’ve caught all day.” He unhooked the old chair, and my line fell back into the water. “Let’s go home,” he said. “We’re both soaked. I guess today is just not our day. We’ll come back another time.”
I began to reel my line in, but I didn’t think I would ever want to go fishing again. And my stomach felt worse than ever.
Suddenly my line went taut, and my rod bent into an arch.
“I think I caught another chair,” I said.
When Daddy saw my rod bend almost in half, he scrambled over to help. “Something is definitely on there,” he said, “and it’s not a chair.”
“Oh, boy!” I said. “I’ve finally got a fish. Maybe the biggest—”
“I don’t know,” Daddy interrupted. “It’s not tugging on your line like a fish would. But I’ll tell you this, Lucille: It’s big!”
Slowly we reeled and pulled. I was so excited I could hardly wait.
The people on the boats around us stopped to watch Daddy and me reel in our catch.
I forgot the pouring rain.
I forgot the rocking and rolling of Fish Tales.
I almost forgot my terrible stomach.
I could think of only one thing: I had probably caught the biggest fish in the ocean.
Then I saw it. It wasn’t a chair. Or a fish. It looked like a dinosaur!
“Huh!” Daddy said. “Quick, Lucille. Get my camera.” He pulled the creature close to the surface. It was green and scaly, and it had dark eyes and a huge, round body.
“Hold the rod tightly, Lucille,” Daddy said, letting go. “It’s only snagged under its shell, and I want to take a picture before it breaks free.”
I held the rod steady. “It’s a dinosaur!” I called to the other boaters.
“It’s not a dinosaur,” Daddy said, and he laughed as he snapped an instant picture. “It’s a big sea turtle, and it came up to see who was on the other end of the line.”
The turtle must have seen my bologna sandwich crust floating on the water, because with one, quick move it was free, and, snatching that soggy crust, it dove back to the bottom of the ocean.
“You’re quite a fisherman, Lucille,” Daddy said, hugging me. “You’ve caught the biggest turtle that I’ve ever seen, and we have the picture to prove it. Let’s go home and tell everyone. They’ll be so surprised.”
Well, today I caught the biggest chair and the biggest turtle, and next time I’m going to catch the biggest fish in the ocean. But then, that’s what all the fisherman say.

Turning to our own time, let me share with you an example of faith, of courage, of compassion, of victory. It illustrates how it is possible to meet life’s challenges—head-on. It exemplifies the ability to suffer physical impairment, endure pain and suffering, and yet never complain. Such are Wendy Bennion of Sandy, Utah, and Jami Palmer of Park Valley, Utah. Both are teenagers; both have borne similar afflictions. Their situations run almost parallel. Since Wendy’s battle has been of a longer duration, I shall speak today of her.
Stricken with cancer at a tender age, subjected to long periods of chemotherapy, Wendy persevered valiantly. Teachers cooperated, parents and family helped—but the mainstay in her affliction has been her indomitable spirit. Wendy has brought cheer to others similarly afflicted. She has prayed for them; she has sustained them with her own example and faith.
After Wendy completed eighteen months of chemotherapy, a balloon-launching party was held in her honor. The public media covered the event. One of the many balloons launched that day was found miles away by Jayne Johnson. It had landed in her backyard, and she discovered it just as she was starting her own chemotherapy treatments. She wrote to Wendy, indicating she had been feeling sad and frightened but that finding the balloon and the note inside—which told about Wendy, her cancer, and the completion of her treatments—had given her the strength and that Wendy was a real inspiration to her. Wendy said, “I think she was supposed to find that balloon so that she would know that it’s not the end of the world and that people do get better.”
Though Wendy’s cancer recurred and a second round of therapy was needed, this choice young lady has not wavered, nor has she shrunk from her course. Rarely have I witnessed one with such courage, such determination, such faith. The same can be said of Jami Palmer. They personify the words of the poetess Ella Wheeler Wilcox, who wrote:
It is easy enough to be pleasant,
When life flows by like a song,
But the man worth while is one who will smile,
When everything goes dead wrong.
For the test of the heart is trouble,
And it always comes with the years,
And the smile that is worth the praises of earth
Is the smile that shines through tears.