Gospel Story Finder

Some years ago, for instance, a brother in our ward mentioned that his wife and several of their children were sick with influenza. I sympathized and asked routinely if I could do anything to help. He surprised me by saying, “Yes, you could bring our dinner tomorrow night.”
All the next day I complained about spending my valuable time preparing a meal for his family when he was well and perfectly able to feed them himself. What a contrast that was to the happy feeling I experienced recently while preparing dinner for the family of a sister who was recuperating from surgery.
What happened between these two experiences to change my attitude? Discussions in Relief Society about compassionate service have helped; the examples of joyful service in our ward have been even more influential. So many sisters are anxious to serve that in some instances it seems one practically has to sign a list and wait for your turn to serve.

I guess I had my first run-in with a bee on a hot summer day when I was about five years old. I was minding my own business when suddenly an angry bee flew into my shirt and stung me on the stomach. At least that’s what I told my mom. Actually, I was pulling the petals off of her yellow roses. You know, “She loves me not.” Pluck. “She loves me—ooh, yuck.”
I was just getting ready to prove once and for all that no yucky girl loved me when apparently I found a rose that was already in use. A bee came buzzing out and crawled through a tiny hole in my shirt. I tried holding still, something I’d always been told to do by my brave and more experienced brothers. But I panicked and frantically tried to brush the bee out from under my shirt. Unfortunately, the bee panicked too and stung me.
Inside, as Mom pulled out the stinger and dried my tears, she said, “I know you feel bad. But you should feel sorry for the bee. Once a bee has stung somebody it dies.” As I sniffled and thought about her words, I decided that maybe the score was about even. But nearly ten years later I wasn’t so sure.
When I was 14, I began working for a neighbor who raised bees as a hobby. My job was to take care of his horses, paint fences, mow the lawn, and weed the garden.
The beehives were located in the field behind the garden, and it seemed like every time I was there I’d end up getting stung or chased by some angry bee. I was beginning to wonder if the bees were trying to avenge the death of their long-lost ancestor.
I told my neighbor I was going to need combat pay if he wanted his garden weeded. He told me what I really needed was the right equipment. We went into his basement and he got out his bee suit: thick gloves with sleeves that went all the way up my arms, white pants and shirt because white tends to pacify bees, boots, a hat, and a screen mask that covered my face and head.
Feeling protected, I journeyed outside. Unfortunately it didn’t take long before I felt something crawling around on my head. There was a hole on the top of the mask. I’m not sure who panicked first, the bee or me. I took off running for the house, but before I got very far it was too late.
I guess you could say I got the point that day. But I really got it later when I was reading in Doctrine and Covenants 27:15 [D&C 27:15] where it says, “Wherefore, lift up your hearts and rejoice, and gird up your loins, and take upon you my whole armor, that ye may be able to withstand the evil day, having done all, that ye may be able to stand.”
In my spiritual life, I have learned the whole armor of God is essential to our salvation. We need to check our armor daily to see that it’s in place and in good repair—and that it doesn’t have holes in it. Prayer, daily scripture study, and repentance are just a few of the things that will help us win the spiritual battles we face.
It’s been a while since I’ve been stung by a bee, but I suppose if it happens again it will serve as a pointed reminder of the importance of putting on the whole armor of God.

One of the talks that has had an everlasting impression on me is one given in a Saturday evening session of a stake conference years ago. The talk was given by a young mother. Here’s what she said: “I have been doing the genealogy of my great-grandfather. He and his large family of sons and daughters were members of the Church.
“My great-grandfather,” she said, “left church one Sunday with his family, and they never returned—no indication why.”
She then said, “In my research, I have found that my great-grandfather has over 1,000 descendants.”
And then she said, and this is the part I have not been able to forget, “Of those 1,000 descendants, I am the only one active in the Church today.”
As she said these words, I found myself thinking, “Is it only 1,000, or could it be more?”
The answer is apparent. The spiritual influence that family might have had on their neighbors and friends did not happen. None of his sons nor any of his daughters served as missionaries, and those they would have touched with their testimonies were not baptized, and those who were not baptized did not go on missions. Yes, there are probably many thousands who are not in the Church today, and not in this very meeting, because of that great-grandfather’s decision.
As I heard her talk, I found myself thinking, “What a tragedy! Perhaps if I had been there at that time, I could have said something to the father, to the family, to the priesthood leaders that might have helped to prevent such a calamity to their family and to so many in the future generations that would follow.”
Well, that opportunity of the past is lost. But we can now look to the present and to the future. I would say to those who find themselves in the same position as that great-grandfather: Would you consider what you might be doing to your family and to all those who come after you? Would you ponder the effects of your thoughts and your actions?
If there are any concerns about Church doctrine, consider the counsel given by President Gordon B. Hinckley to a large meeting of over 2,000 members in Paris, France, last year. He said: “I plead with you, my brothers and sisters, that if you have any doubt concerning any doctrine of this Church, that you put it to the test. Try it. Live the principle. Get on your knees and pray about it, and God will bless you with a knowledge of the truth of this work.”
If you feel you have been wronged, be ready to forgive. If there is, for some reason, an unpleasant memory, let it go. Where necessary, talk to your bishop; talk to your stake president.
To all, but especially to those who someday will be great-grandfathers and great-grandmothers, your eternal blessings and those of your posterity are far more important than any prideful reason which would deny you and so many others of such important blessings. In the Book of Mormon, King Benjamin reminds us: “And moreover, I would desire that ye should consider on the blessed and happy state of those that keep the commandments of God. For behold, they are blessed in all things, both temporal and spiritual; and if they hold out faithful to the end they are received into heaven, that thereby they may dwell with God in a state of never-ending happiness” (Mosiah 2:41).
To you who are children in the homes of future errant great-grandfathers, you can continue to stand faithful; you can be a good example in the home and to those around you. You can do your part to bring peace and harmony in the home and with your associates. You can be the solution, and not the cause, of problems. Remember in the Book of Mormon when Father Lehi began to murmur, it was his righteous son Nephi who gave encouragement and found solutions to problems. So many times it is the righteous children who are able to steady the boat while sailing in turbulent waters.
To you who are bishops and stake presidents, how I wish you could have been part of the meeting I attended with a handful of regional representatives. We heard Elder L. Tom Perry as he compared those who are prospective elders and those who are not active—the future great-grandfathers—to a thermometer. We were reminded that there are many of those individuals who are more than just warm. They would come back if someone would just encourage and show the way.
I would like to tell you of a stake conference I was assigned to attend. It was a reorganization; the stake president and his counselors would be released, and a new presidency would be called. The stake president was young and had served wonderfully for almost 10 years. He was a spiritual giant, but he was also an administrative giant. In my personal interview with him, he told me how he had delegated much of the responsibility for the stake functions to his counselors and to the high council and had thus freed himself to interview those who needed encouragement. Individuals and couples were invited to come to his office. There he got to know them, counseled with them, and invited them to do better, to put their lives in order, and to receive the blessings available to those who follow the Lord. He helped them by putting them in the care of a capable leader, a teacher who helped them to understand the beauties of the doctrine. Then he told me that in these interviews he would often ask if they would like a blessing. “I have placed my hands on the heads of many members of the stake,” he said.
The next day in the general session of the stake conference, I doubt I have ever seen so many tears—not because they felt the president should not be released, but for the deep love of a young stake president who had blessed their lives. I felt prompted to ask, “How many of you have had the hands of the president on your heads?” I was amazed at the number of people who raised their hands. I thought to myself at the time, “How many of these people will bless the name of this great man, not only now but throughout the eternities?” Yes, these will be the great-grandfathers who will, because of this loving leader, leave a legacy of generations of thousands who will call him blessed.
When we see the effect one person can have on the lives of so many, it perhaps is no wonder that the Lord reminded us, “Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God” (D&C 18:10).
I pray we all might consider what we can do individually to assist those who will be the future great-grandparents, whether a little child, a teenager, or an adult, so that each will leave a righteous legacy of those who know and love the Lord. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Several years ago I was teaching a group of nursery leaders how to give a short gospel lesson to very young children. One of the leaders had her young son on her lap. I held a picture of the Savior in my hand and, demonstrating how to speak to young children, began talking about Jesus. The tiny boy slid off his mother’s lap, toddled over to me, looked intently at the picture, and touched the face. At that point in the dialogue, I asked the question, “Who is this?” With a smile on his face, the child responded, “Jesus.”
This child was not old enough to really even say his own name, but he recognized the image and knew the name of the Savior. As I watched this sweet response, I thought of the words of the Savior when He said, “Seek the face of the Lord always, that in patience ye may possess your souls, and ye shall have eternal life” (D&C 101:38).

When I was six years old, my family moved to a new house in our hometown of Quetzaltenango, Guatemala. On the day we moved in, we were tired and thirsty. My older brother took me into the kitchen to get me a glass of water, but the utilities had not been turned on yet.
We didn’t know what to do. It was late, and we didn’t know anyone. Just then, someone knocked on the door. It turned out to be a pleasant and smiling older lady. “Welcome to the neighborhood,” she said. “I’m your neighbor, Tenchita. I thought you probably didn’t have any water, so I brought you some lemonade and bread.”
I was so happy to see the lemonade that I smiled a huge smile. A few days later, Tenchita invited us to attend The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and gave us a copy of the Book of Mormon.
We soon took the missionary discussions, and three months later the elders challenged us to be baptized. My five older siblings accepted the challenge, but my parents didn’t feel ready. They continued to attend church, however, and they and I were baptized and confirmed two years later, when I was eight.
I was young, but I could see the changes the gospel of Jesus Christ made in our family. Like all families, we had our problems, but communication and harmony increased in our home, and we trusted that solutions would come because of the teachings we received in the true Church. We were grateful that Tenchita had introduced us to the gospel, but she soon moved, and we didn’t hear from her again.
Thirteen years later, my family was sealed in the Guatemala City Guatemala Temple, and I decided to serve a mission. In my first area in the Guatemala Guatemala City South Mission, we often visited members who were ill or less active. One day the bishop asked us to visit an elderly sister who was sick and couldn’t leave her home. He told us that this sister’s favorite drink was lemonade.
When my companion and I arrived at the house, the sister was ill in bed, but I recognized her immediately and gave her a big hug. Sister Tenchita didn’t know me at first, but after we had talked for a while, her eyes shone in recognition. She smiled and said, “I brought you lemonade and bread.”
I thanked her for also bringing me the gospel and making it possible for me to serve a mission.
Giving a glass of lemonade and a loaf of bread is easy and inexpensive, but giving them the way Sister Tenchita did—with affection and concern for our eternal welfare—truly made them valuable. She changed my life and the lives of members of my family. Likewise, we can all change people’s lives by helping them find their way to the “living water” and the “bread of life” (John 4:10; 6:48).
Today my family and I don’t share just lemonade and bread with our neighbors; we also share the true gospel of Jesus Christ.

A few years ago my wife Ligia asked us if would please, please clean up the kitchen while she was at Relief Society. We readily agreed and away she went content that she would come home to a spotless kitchen; dishes washed, counter cleaned, floor swept and if she was lucky maybe even mopped. As I prepared the dishwater my daughter yells out that a particular movie had just came on. We had both read the book and had a high interest in this movie. We hit upon a plan: since mom would be gone at least two hours we would wash the dishes during the long commercial breaks. In two hours we would have the kitchen finished, the movie watched and a happy mommy.

For whatever the reasons, that now escape me, something went wrong. We were only half way through the dishes when we saw the headlights coming on to the driveway Liz and I looked at each other like the proverbial "deer in the headlights." I think she said something like "we're toast." We made a mad dash to finish up the dishes and were fully engaged when she walked in. We were full of feeble excuses but they could not wash away the look of disappointment on her face. We still had not finished the dishes at 10:00pm that night. In one of my brighter and more insightful moments I said, "You're not upset about a few dirty dishes are you?" And with tender eyes she said, "It is not about the dishes."

In junior high, I didn’t think life was fair. I was short—not just a little below average, but officially vertically challenged. One day my entire grade lined up by height for a picture. I was at the end of the line—the short end.

Despite my height, I loved basketball and was determined to make the team. As a gym full of boys began running drills to win their places on the squad, I hoped my many hours of practice would pay off. The coaches stood in the middle of the gym, observing us and taking notes on their clipboards. At my size, I just prayed they would notice me.

After warm-ups, the head coach blew his whistle and explained our first shooting drill. He handed me a ball. I was one of the first to dribble from half court and pull up inside the three-point line for a jump shot. I knew everyone was watching; my shaking hands reminded me with every dribble. I stopped at the top of the key, jumped, and let go of the ball. I hoped that it would at least hit the rim. The ball rolled around the iron and dropped through the net.

Sooner than I wanted, it was my turn again. Again my shot found its way through the hoop. Through the next rotation, my luck continued. The returning center of the team noticed me and decided to help out an underdog. He began calling attention to me right before each of my next shots. Thankfully, I kept making my shots.

At the end of the day, when the list of those who made first cuts was posted, my name was there. I had just climbed the first leg of my Mount Everest.

After a few more days of tense nerves and early-morning drills, another cut was posted. I made it past my second hurdle. With only one or two cuts left, my chances were getting better, but my competition was stiffer.

At the end of the week, tryouts were over. I tried to remain calm as I walked to the coaches’ office to see if I made the team. My name was missing from the list.

The assistant coach, who was also my science teacher, pulled me aside. “You’re a good little ball player. You’ve got a lot of potential.” His compliments didn’t help my disappointment. “It’s hard to cut people. It’s just that right now you don’t have the size to play for the team. Maybe next year.”

Why me? One of my dreams crashed, and it wasn’t because I didn’t try or practice. It was because of something out of my control. Life just didn’t seem fair.

Let me tell you a story about a young man who faced just this question. Mark is not a real person, but his story is based on real experiences.

After his first year at BYU-Idaho, Mark served a mission in Brazil. When he returned, his high school sweetheart Carol convinced him to move to Cedar City, Utah, where she was attending SUU on an athletic scholarship. Mark transferred to SUU, but things did not work out like he had hoped. After dating for three months, Carol told Mark she was not happy with their relationship and thought they ought to date other people.

Mark was hurt and confused, but he did not give up. Since he really loved Carol, he continued to talk with her and finally convinced her to see him again. Their relationship picked up and over the next few months went really well. At least that is what Mark believed. In fact, Mark thought things were going so well he bought a ring and proposed to Carol.

On the night Mark proposed, Carol was surprised and upset. She turned Mark down and said things that really hurt Mark. Carol told him that she could see she would not be happy with him, that there were other guys she had met she wanted to date, and that it was time to move on. Mark was humiliated, frustrated, and angry; and he said some things in anger to Carol he should not have said.

Mark finished out the year at SUU, but he was unhappy and uncomfortable. It seemed to him that everything about SUU reminded him that Carol was the only reason he moved to Cedar City. He decided to return to BYU-Idaho.

In the first year Mark returned to BYU-Idaho, he moved in with some old friends from his old ward; but he did not date anyone. He was still angry and hurt. He doubted himself and was deeply afraid of rejection. Instead of fading with time, the anger he felt toward Carol festered. The pain and self-doubt and fear were like a dull ache in his heart. He was moody and cynical (especially about girls). He let his calling in the ward and his home teaching slide, and his roommates grew worried about him.

His roommates finally convinced Mark to go see the bishop. As he sat in the bishop's office that day, he knew that he should forgive Carol for the pain she had caused him, put his life in order, and get on with finding an eternal companion. But all of that seemed way too hard. It was as if he stood on one side of a great canyon needing to get to the other side, with no way across.

This was precisely what Mark needed. He had already planted the seed. He had served a mission and felt his testimony of the Savior grow. In his service to the Lord, the seed had sprouted and begun to grow; but it was not yet the magnificent tree of which Alma speaks. In fact, since the problems with Carol had festered, the young tree in Mark had stopped growing. Mark needed the tree to grow again and bear fruit. He needed to partake of the divine nature. He needed the gift of a merciful and forgiving heart, which he did not have.

In the Lord's framework, the first step in the growth of the tree is desire. Please turn with me to Alma, chapter 32, verse 27:

Whether you are planting the seed for the first time or trying to rekindle growth in the tree, desire is the beginning. For Mark the critical question was: Do you want to forgive Carol? Do you want to be rid of the anger and the pain and everything that you are feeling?

As Mark focused his mind and heart on what he really wanted, he realized he was sitting in the bishop's office because he wanted the anger and the pain to go away. It was the beginning of a desire to forgive.

With that beginning, Mark needed to take the second step and "give place" in his heart to the word of the Lord about forgiveness and the Atonement. The Lord said, "Of you it is required to forgive all men."[17] He also said, "I am Jesus Christ the Son of God. . . for behold, by me redemption cometh."[18]

To "give place" in his heart for these words, Mark needed to see himself with the eye of faith as a new person-forgiving Carol-rid of the anger and the pain through the power and mercy of the Lord Jesus Christ. For Mark to see himself with the eye of faith, he not only needed to imagine the tree growing and bearing fruit, but he needed to acknowledge in his mind and feel in his heart that it could happen. This is the beginning of hope.

This process did not happen all at once for Mark. There were more visits with the bishop, much prayer, and much searching of the scriptures. But there came a point where he really did see himself with the eye of faith. He began to see that the gift of forgiveness was possible. At that point, Mark took the third step: he kept his heart open to the Spirit. Alma's powerful promise in verse 28 became a reality. If you, too, will keep your heart open to the possibility of new growth, the Holy Ghost will cause the word of God to "enlarge [your] soul; . . . enlighten [your] understanding, . . . [and it will begin] to be delicious to [you]."[19]

Just as life-giving moisture in soil makes the young tree put out new roots and branches, the Holy Ghost makes the word of God come alive in the prepared heart. Let me give you an example of the word of God about the power of the Atonement and forgiveness.

Jesus suffered for our sins. But He also suffered our infirmities, our weaknesses, our pain, our humiliation, our self-doubt, our fear, and the effects of our anger. And He overcame them all. Everything we have suffered and are suffering, He suffered and overcame. This means that Mark did not need to carry the burden of fear, pain, and anger anymore. Jesus Christ, who has all power in heaven and in earth, who heals all wounds, would take the burden. Mark could give it to Lord; in fact, the Lord already had it.

When this thought took hold in Mark's heart, it was truly delicious to him. His understanding increased, and he began to see and feel light coming into his life. There was greater hope than before, because the Word is true.

Mark had come a long way; but there was much, much more to do. The young tree had begun to grow, but it needed much more care. This was the fourth step: nourishing the tree with great care. Here is Alma again (verse 37):

Since we are growing a tree, it means there must be a sustained period of nourishing and cultivating before there will be fruit. And it means also that the nourishing must be done with "great care." It is not easy to grow a fruit tree. But if it gets root and grows strong, the tree will bear fruit for a long, long time.

"Nourishing with great care" involved three things Mark's young tree needed to continue to grow and bear fruit.

First: A Fertile Heart

A fertile heart is a heart that is open to the Savior, ready to make new commitments of faith and righteousness. It is a heart where deep desires to be good and to do good combine with an attitude of willing obedience. It is a heart prepared to change.

A barren heart is full of the rocks and dense clay of pride, selfishness, lust, and greed. It is a heart committed to anger and sin and disobedience.

Mark's heart was open to the word of the Lord, but there were pockets of rocks and clay beneath the surface of his heart. His pride and the anger he had harbored toward Carol had hardened his heart. He had stopped being of service to others, and he had stopped feeling close to the Lord. The only way for the young tree to grow was for Mark to break up the rocks and the clay. Mark needed a broken heart. He had to change. Mark had to exercise his faith in Christ and repent of his lack of service and the pride, anger, and cynicism in his heart.

Mark learned something we all must learn: repentance is essential to the growth of the tree and its gifts of Christlike virtue. We all have in our hearts rocks and clay we need to break up. As we seek to become more like Christ, we all need to change. We all need hearts that are broken and spirits that are contrite. We all need to repent.

Second: Nourishment of the Spirit

The young tree began to grow in Mark's heart because the Holy Ghost made the word of God come alive in him. Growth will continue only with the continued nourishment of the Spirit. The Holy Ghost knows exactly what Mark needs to receive the gift of forgiveness and mercy. Through the "unspeakable gift of the Holy Ghost,"[22] Mark can receive increased faith and trust in God; deeper knowledge and understanding of the Atonement; feelings of love, peace, comfort and reassurance; increased empathy for others; and an increased testimony of the Savior. These are the nutrients Mark's young tree needs to grow and bear its precious fruit.

Mark knew from his mission and other experiences that to have the Spirit with him he needed to pray always with real intent, to feast on the words of Christ, to keep the commandments, and to do nothing that would drive the Spirit away. Mark's bishop reminded him of these things and also taught him that service to others would bring the Spirit into his life. The bishop promised that the Lord would bless Mark with a forgiving heart if Mark would act on the promptings of the Spirit to serve others.

Third: Deep and Extensive Roots

Mark's young tree needed to sink many roots down deep in his heart. Deep and extensive roots anchor the tree, protecting it against the winds and storms of life. Deep roots secure the nourishment an abundance of fruit will require. But deep and extensive roots also protect the soil of the heart, keeping us safe from floods of anger or despair or temptation and binding our commitments and desires to the Lord.

With a fertile heart and nourishment of the Spirit, the young tree can begin to take root. But Mark can act in faith to strengthen and deepen those roots. He can begin with his roommates, making sure the old cynical, angry, moody Mark does not reappear, watching carefully to be kind to them, to serve them, and to forgive them. He can love and serve others he knows. Here is an example:

Acting on a prompting, Mark decided to go see Bill, one of the students Mark home taught. Bill had never gotten along very well with Mark, but Mark made the visit. Mark arrived just in time to help Bill clean up a big mess caused by a flooding dishwasher. (Bill had put liquid dish soap in the machine.) That experience was an important lesson in forgiveness and the beginning of a great friendship.

It took time and "all diligence"[23]; but with much prayer, repentance, and service, Mark's heart began to change. The old cynicism and anger began to disappear. In its place came light and joy and confidence in the Lord. It was not easy. It did not happen quickly, but the "great and precious promises"[24] came true. Through the ministry of the Holy Ghost, the power of the Atonement worked in Mark according to his faithfulness. He received the gift of a merciful and forgiving heart. Mark nourished the tree, and he tasted its fruit.

The day came when Mark called Carol and apologized to her for his angry words those many months ago and sought her forgiveness. Carol told Mark she was sorry for the pain she had caused him, and Mark was so happy that he could say to her in all sincerity of heart that he had forgiven her and wished for her nothing but the best.

My freshman year in high school, however, I chose not to take seminary. I thought I didn’t have room in my schedule. I didn’t understand how important seminary was. My friends could say nothing but good about seminary, so I decided to adjust my schedule so that I could take it.
Seminary gave me a fresh outlook on the gospel. Through seminary my testimony of the scriptures developed. I read the entire New Testament and learned about the Atonement of Jesus Christ. My testimony grew at an overwhelming speed. Once again I felt the peace and love the gospel provided me, and I wanted my family to feel it as well.
I began to urge my family to come with me to sacrament meeting. I told them I wanted us to be an eternal family. To encourage them, I would wash everyone’s church clothes on Saturday night so that the excuse “I don’t have anything to wear” was no longer an option. I told them that I had a testimony of the gospel and that I wanted to share it with them. Most important, I prayed. I prayed that my family could know the Spirit the way I did. I wanted them to go to church so that we could someday be sealed in the temple.
It started slowly and took some time, but one warm August morning, my prayers were answered as we were sealed in the Portland Oregon Temple. I felt the Spirit stronger at that moment than ever before. I knew my family could be together forever. To this day I cannot thank my Heavenly Father enough for this wonderful blessing.
Now I am trying my best to be a good example and friend to everyone around me so that perhaps I can do for them what was done for me.

A couple of months ago, I was going through a rough time and felt that my life was falling apart. I’d been told many times that our trials make us stronger, but remembering that didn’t take away my pain. After one particularly rough day at high school and a stressful evening, I felt alone. I was in the midst of despair, and I couldn’t see a way to overcome what I was feeling. Then I had an overwhelming desire to pray. I resisted at first—that solution seemed too easy to bring the peace I was seeking—but then I changed my mind. I prayed for comfort and for the strength to rise above my trials. As I did so, my pain and grief were taken away and were replaced by an overwhelming, all-encompassing feeling of peace and joy.
I rarely cry, but that day I wept. That was the moment I really understood that I am a child of God and felt how much I matter to Him. Now, every time I feel alone or am in pain, I pray. Sometimes the relief doesn’t come instantly, but it always comes. Prayer is how I withstand the teasing, temptations, and other hard things that sometimes come into my life. I’m so grateful to have the gospel in my life and to be a child of God.

The glacier glows from deep within, pulling scarce light from a gray day and turning it an eerie blue. Mostly, the glacier is dirty white. But from parts of the vertical face comes faint, cold blue fire. “Ice blue” is a real color.
At the glacier’s foot a shallow lake of ice melt is dotted with an occasional miniature iceberg. A stream of glacial water tumbles into the lake with a distant, dull rumble. It’s the only sound you hear until—
Splash! “Whoop!” Someone has just jumped into the lake. Or fallen. Or been pulled. Youth of the Juneau Alaska District are holding their annual games on the sandy shore. Relays rage back and forth across a shallow inlet. Put on hip boots, wade-run through thigh-high ice water, take off the boots and hand them to a teammate for the return trip. Splash! Someone else has tried to run too fast. Again, a sharp intake of breath and “whoop!”
Soon, a stout rope is drawn across the same inlet and the teams take sides, muscles straining, heels dug into the sand. Rhythmic chants of “pull … pull … pull” echo across the lake. Inch by inch the losing team is drawn toward the incredibly cold water.
Incredibly, too, some of the youth who didn’t get wet in the relay or tug-of-war give berserk yells and wade into the bone-chilling water for the sheer daring of it. Afterward, when everyone has dried off and is back at the chapel warming up, the kids explain. It’s not insanity, just enthusiasm.
Juneau is Alaska’s capital, beautiful and interesting but a challenging place to live. There are no highways to other major cities. To get to the rest of Alaska—and the rest of the world—you either fly or you load the family car on a ferry boat. Both are expensive, so you try to find most of your fun close to home—like the Mendenhall Glacier just a few minutes from town.
Close to home there’s plenty of cold and snow in winter, lots of clouds and rain the rest of the time—more than 100 inches of precipitation a year. So, the young women just plan their camps by the calendar, not by the weather forecasts. If you let the probability of rain stop you, next thing you know, you could start worrying about the possibility of bears. Instead, you take along rain gear and a few armed priesthood brethren. And you go enjoy camp.
School football and soccer games are rarely canceled for rain. Baseball is often played under conditions that would be a “rain-out” in the lower 48 states. In a climate like this, trees grow tall, roofs grow moss, and these LDS kids have grown an attitude that seems to say, “No matter where you live—live. Jump into life with both feet.”
No, the rope’s not for the weatherman. We’re still on the subject of jumping. Carly Perkins and Shannon Orme are members of the Juneau Jumpers, one of the largest rope jumping teams in the world. “It’s about the only thing we can do that’s indoors and doesn’t cost much,” explains Carly. “And since it’s always raining, it’s something to pass the time.”
But what a way to pass the time! According to Shannon, 10 minutes of rope jumping equals about 20 minutes of jogging. “If we didn’t keep the Word of Wisdom, we really wouldn’t we able to do this,” she adds. Qualifying for the “double unders”—two passes of the rope on each jump—requires doing 200 in a row without a mistake. Then there are the “quadruple unders” … !
Add complicated routines with multiple ropes and jumpers, and you can see that competition rope jumping is as different from the schoolyard variety of rope jumping as the Monte Carlo Grand Prix is from driving school. So who teaches all of this? Sure, there are adult coaches, but it’s the team members themselves who train new candidates for the team and literally teach each other the ropes. You work with another team member to qualify for new routines. “Even freestyle, we have to do it with someone else so they learn it too,” Shannon says. “You learn to get along with pretty much everybody,” adds Carly. There’s no “king-of-the-hill” mentality on this team. You only progress and go on the road trips by being willing to help others reach your own level of accomplishment.
That’s a lot like the attitude you find among the LDS youth of Juneau, Alaska. For example, at the lake and at the chapel afterward was a fellow student who was being friendshipped by some of the LDS kids. Having seen them in action, she announced that she was ready to talk to the missionaries. You know that when she does talk to the missionaries, she’s going to have a big team backing her up and teaching her the ropes. Around here, they don’t just jump into life with both feet. They like to take a friend along.
Sometimes the world can seem like a pretty cold place. But LDS kids in Juneau have learned that if you jump in with both feet—and help someone else do the same—life can be great no matter where you live.

Years ago President Monson attended a stake conference in Star Valley, Wyoming, USA, with the assignment to reorganize the stake presidency. But he did more than fulfill that duty. He touched the lives of all who attended with a simple gesture of love as he released the stake president, E. Francis Winters, who had served for 23 years.
The day of the stake conference, the members filled the building. It seemed as if each one was saying “a silent thank-you to this noble leader,” who obviously had done his duty with whole-souled devotion. As President Monson stood to speak, he stated how long President Winters had presided in the stake and had been “a perpetual pillar of strength to everyone in the valley.” Then he was prompted to do something he has not done before or since. He asked everyone who had been touched by President Winters’s life to stand. The outcome was electrifying. Every person in the audience rose to his or her feet.
President Monson told the congregation, many of whose eyes were filled with tears, “This vast throng reflects not only individual feelings but also the gratitude of God for a life well lived.”10

After two years of custodial work, another ward was added to our building, making a total of four. On Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday we had Relief Society, with the officers arriving as early as 8:30 A.M. The Relief Society room, foyer, kitchen, south steps, nursery, and rest rooms had to be ready. While Relief Society was in session, we cleaned the rest of the classrooms, the chapel and the cultural hall.

Then at 3:00 the Primary officers began to arrive. The relief society room, nurseries, kitchen and rest rooms had to be checked and cleaned if needed. When Primary was over we picked up, swept, straightened chairs, and cleaned backboards to get ready for activity night. This went for about a year; then two wards moved out of the building. It seemed like we were on vacation!

One day, after my husband, three daughters, and I had moved across the country and away from our large, extended family, we received in the mail a photograph of my husband’s brother. All three girls had known him well, so I was amazed to find that my three-year-old daughter did not recognize him. We had been away for only six months! This incident convinced me that we needed to spend time talking with our children about our family members if we wanted them to grow up feeling that they knew and belonged to an extended family unit. My husband and I decided to use some of our family home evenings to accomplish this goal.
We began with my husband’s grandmother, who was about to celebrate her eighty-first birthday. Following our home evening lesson the week before her birthday, we told the children that someone very special to us was about to have a birthday and that we were going to help her celebrate it. We began by showing several photos of Grandma while helping them remember some of the things they had enjoyed doing with her in the past. Next, my husband related some of his memories of her and of the experiences he had enjoyed as a boy on her farm.
We then got out the colored paper, crayons, and glue, and each girl made a birthday card for her great-grandmother. My husband wrote a letter telling Grandma of his love and appreciation for her. We mailed the greetings the next day.
The girls enjoyed this activity, but more important, they learned more about their great-grandmother. They learned that even though she is far away, she loves us. They learned that it is fun to do something nice for someone else.
We all learned that it is important to set aside time to build family relationships, and long-distance birthday parties have become a tradition in our home.

One morning long ago, Kookaburra sat high and solemn in his gum tree, looking down on the rain-washed world. He had heard the strong night wind uproot a tall tree near the pond, so he flew down to take a look. Lying on the earth where the tree roots had been were two tiny eggs. The falling tree must have disturbed a bird’s nest. But whose?
Kookaburra thought he knew almost everything there was to know about anything. But he didn’t know who had laid the eggs. Mrs. Kookaburra agreed to sit on them to keep them warm while Kookaburra tried to find their owner.
First he flew to his friends in the trees. He asked Cockatoo about the eggs, and Cockatoo asked Parakeet. Then Parakeet asked Parrot. But none of them knew whose eggs Kookaburra had found.
Next Kookaburra searched out his friends who lived on the ground. He found Bowerbird decorating his nest with flowers, berries, and pieces of brightly colored material. Bowerbird came proudly down his mossy path and greeted his guest. Unfortunately, Bowerbird had never seen any eggs like Kookaburra described. So Kookaburra said, “Bowerbird, Bowerbird, come with me. Come see the eggs by the fallen tree.” And off they went.
Then Kookaburra and Bowerbird went to see Lyrebird, who was easy to find because he was putting on a show that very minute. What a sight he was! He danced around on the little stage of earth and vegetable matter that he had built, mimicking the song of one bird after another. His very long tail feathers fanned out in the sun in the shape of a lyre.
Kookaburra and Bowerbird politely waited until his act was over before asking about the eggs. But Lyrebird didn’t know whose eggs they were. So Kookaburra said, “Lyrebird, Lyrebird, come with me. Come see the eggs by the fallen tree.” And off they went.
Beyond the trees, Kookaburra and Bowerbird and Lyrebird saw the Mallee Fowls in a clearing. Their eggs had been laid, and Mallee was putting a big pile of sand over the vegetation that covered the eggs. As the visitors watched, he next scratched away earth in the center of the pile to make a little hole to let in warm air. His beak worked just like a thermometer, testing to see that the eggs were not too warm or too cool.
Kookaburra said, “Mallee Fowls, Mallee Fowls, come with me. Come see the eggs by the fallen tree.”
Mrs. Mallee explained that her mate could not leave their eggs, but she would go with them herself. So Kookaburra, Bowerbird, Lyrebird and Mrs. Mallee returned to the edge of the pond.
Mrs. Kookaburra was still there, sitting on the eggs. Kookaburra thought that if they would all hide behind the gum tree and wait very quietly, the mother bird might still return. So they did.
They had sat still for only a few minutes, although it seemed like a very, very long time, when they saw the strangest sight! Up the bank toddled a furry creature. It had a bill like a duck, but it had no wings. Its long tail was wide and flat like a beaver’s tail. And its legs were very short with webbed feet.
Kookaburra recognized Mrs. Platypus. She was returning to the place where she had dug her home under the ground. Mrs. Platypus had thought her eggs had been lost during the storm, and when she saw the two little eggs, she waddled from side to side and clattered her giant bill. Then she cuddled up to her eggs.
Because Mrs. Kookaburra had kept the eggs warm, they were all ready to hatch. One began to crack open, then the other. Out popped two tiny platypuses. They crawled right up onto their mother’s tummy and held on with all their might.
Kookaburra and his friends watched every move. Mrs. Platypus scooted right back down into the pond and flipped over onto her back in the water. She gave one big splat with her tail and floated away just like a big log, with her babies riding on top of her.
Mrs. Kookaburra said, “Well, I never!”
Mrs. Mallee ruffled her feathers and said, “Unbelievable!”
Lyrebird fanned out his tail, danced around in a circle, and started to sing.
Bowerbird picked up a feather to take to his bower, and Kookaburra blinked his eyes. He shook his head and stared in amazement. The eggs had not belonged to any bird at all, but to Mrs. Platypus. The joke was on him!
Kookaburra’s solemn look vanished, and he began to laugh. He flew back to his high branch in the gum tree and laughed louder and louder until his laugh rang out clear across the Land Down Under, where his laugh can be heard to this very day.

But Joseph did more than use soft words guided by the Spirit to show love and compassion for his enemies. His kind treatment of two spiteful persecutors is one example.
On order from the governor of Missouri, two agents, Reynolds and Wilson, arrested Joseph in Nauvoo in June 1843. They cruelly abused their prisoner, punching his sides with their pistols, threatening his life, and taking him away before he could see his family.
The tables were soon turned on the two officers when they were forced to return to Nauvoo to be tried for threatening the lives of Joseph and another Church member. Joseph had a feast prepared in celebration of his safe return, and among his guests were Reynolds and Wilson.12 That afternoon, in a speech to Nauvoo’s citizens, Joseph reported, speaking of Reynolds and Wilson:
“I have brought these men to Nauvoo, and committed them to her from whom I was torn, not as prisoners in chains, but as prisoners of kindness. I have treated them kindly. I have had the privilege of rewarding them good for evil. They took me unlawfully, treated me rigorously, strove to deprive me of my rights, and would have run with me into Missouri to have been murdered, if Providence had not interposed. But now they are in my hands; and I have taken them into my house, set them at the head of my table, and placed before them the best which my house afforded; and they were waited upon by my wife, whom they deprived of seeing me when I was taken.”13

The two towns that these five youth live in are more than 100 watery miles apart, which is the equivalent of running around a high school track 400 times—a little too far to travel each Sunday. But endless miles can’t keep the youth from sticking together. They recently had the chance to meet each other for the first time face-to-face. The youth, along with their parents, flew to Anchorage to perform baptisms for the dead in the Anchorage Alaska Temple. They had never been to the temple before, so it was a great experience for them. “It was fun to introduce ourselves and see who it was we’ve been talking to over the phone,” says 14-year-old Harrison.
As they drove into the parking lot of the temple, each felt the Spirit strongly and knew that the temple was the Lord’s house. “I can’t believe I’m actually here,” says Jaenell as she recalls her experience. “I felt a subtle, peaceful feeling of absolute contentment and happiness.”
The best part of the weekend trip was performing baptisms and confirmations for the dead in the temple. “We helped those people who couldn’t help themselves,” Zach says. He enjoyed looking at the names and dates of each person for whom he was baptized.
“I could feel the Spirit, and it felt very peaceful,” Jennifer says.
“When we were in the waiting room, I read an article by President Monson in the Ensign about the bridges Christ has built,” says Jaenell. “It really made me appreciate the things that the Savior has done, because we can’t build the bridges by ourselves.”
The trip strengthened each person’s testimony of Jesus Christ, a testimony that helps them in their everyday lives. Although they’re miles apart from each other, they’re only a phone call away.

Feeling miserable after a week of making poor choices and enduring lectures from my parents, I went to visit my grandfather. Flopping down on his front porch, I rested my chin on the palms of my hands and wondered how a kid as young as I was could get into so much trouble.
Noticing how sad I looked, my grandfather sat down beside me. “Jeffery,” he said, “I think it’s time we went fishing.”
Early the next morning we were on the lake in his boat. “Granddad, how do you do it?” I asked. “How do you always make the right choices? I’ve never seen you lose your temper or make any of the mistakes I do.”
Granddad pulled a silver compass out of his pocket and laid it on the seat between us. “I’ve made my share of mistakes, Jeff, but when I was sixteen, I learned a valuable lesson, and this compass was part of it. I carry it with me all the time because it reminds me to check my other compass to make sure that what I’m doing is right.”
“You carry two compasses with you?”
“Yup. They remind me of the day I used them both and barely escaped death, anyway.”
“Escaped death? What happened?”
“Wow, Granddad, that was some experience!”
“It sure was, Jeff, and it taught me a lifelong lesson. When I can no longer see where my pocket compass is leading me, I can still head in the right direction. I just have to let my inner compass guide me.”
“But how do you know when it’s working?”
“You know it’s working when you get a feeling that something is right or wrong. If you feel right about your choice, you know you’re following in the direction your inner compass is pointing. If you feel uncomfortable or miserable about your choice, you know you’re going in the wrong direction.”
“Thanks, Granddad,” I said, “I’m going to start using my inner compass right away.”

When I returned to the Czech Republic from Utah, I was the only member of the Church not just in my town, Chrastava (population 8,000), but also in Liberec (population 120,000), a city about six miles (10 km) from Chrastava. I worked as a hotel receptionist and taught English in a private high school. I was desperately seeking to find my new place at home. I was close to giving up. Nevertheless, I continued to kneel every night and pray for a miracle that would bring me out of my despair. I also tried very hard to stay away from my old habits and friends.
Finally my prayers were answered. The missionaries came to Liberec, where I was teaching. (I later learned that Brother Hodson had contacted the mission president for the Czech Republic and told him about me. Now there is a growing branch of about 40 Latter-day Saints in my hometown.)

It had all begun under the stars and the moon one night in Wyoming in a mad flight of spinning wheels and flying shadows known forever after as the “midnight ride of the Orem 15th.” The quorum was on a camping trip and a few priests brought along their motorcycles. One night about bedtime their adviser, Dave Anderson, jumped into the saddle, called his cohorts to horse, and they flew away over mountains and moonlit meadows like so many Paul Reveres. The night seemed to be alive. More animals than they had ever seen stood watching them pass as if hypnotized by the string of moving lights.
They got back to camp about 2:00 A.M., feeling that they were much more than just a few people assigned to the same quorum. They were friends.
Fired by the enthusiasm of the midnight riders, the whole quorum joined in, and in the weeks that followed they framed a lot of territory between handlebars.